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Slap-Boxing With Jesus

Fuck 2Pac. Remember Biko.

With yesterday officially being the sixth anniversary of the start of our endings, I’ve noticed that throughout the week so far most of us have been in some somber mood. I’ll even admit, I’ve been a little down in the dumps also, but my reason is primarily for the atrocity known as the Philadelphia Eagles’ special teams. On a semi-related note, in Sega's NFL 2K5, the last one before EA Games decided to monopolize the genre, Greg Lewis’ rating was a miserable 43 out of 100. Is it any wonder he got mollywhopped left and right on the field last Sunday?

In my state of frustration, I decided to release some tension [||] onto my little piece of bandwidth yesterday, simply explaining on why I didn’t give a shit about Lesane’s death anniversary. To paraphrase Pusha T, I never knew the guy personally, so why the fuck would I “ride” for him like he paid my way through college? Just because he made songs like “Brenda’s Got A Baby” and “Heaven Ain’t Hard 2 Find,” I guess those monumental shits easily cancel out the homophobic rants and death threats found in “Hit ‘Em Up” and “Against All Odds,” right?

And people wonder why I’ll take Bobby Caldwell over this guy any day of the week [||].

But when it really boils down to it, Lesane didn’t really die for anything; he just, well, died. Matter of fact, he got caught slipping without his vest (perhaps it wouldn’t have looked cool trying to tuck it in behind that girdle he fancied so many times [1]), and got the ever-loving shit shot out of him by some random-ass, Final Call-pushing, bow-tie Muslim that still walks among us today! Call me remorseless (among other things), but you can’t convince me that this guy is capable of “touching souls” because some of his “works” are found in junior college courses (or as I like to call it, the 13th grade) around the country. Shit, I feel more regret for the ones who jumped to their deaths six years ago yesterday than for a guy who got his start in the game molesting blow-up dolls on stage while dancing for Digital Underground.

Truth be told, when one of my close friends died of a heart attack in the college apartment next door to me five years ago (what makes his situation more heart-wrenching was the fact he was my age when he died. Rest in peace, Jerry), his impact on my life affects me to this day. Aside from his friends, family and especially Suge (he’s broke as fuck without him now), who can honestly say that Lesane's ethering has done the same to them?

If you really want to celebrate the life of an actual important individual, celebrate the one of South African activist Steven Biko, whose death happened 30 years ago today. Biko figuratively and literally sacrificed his life combatting apartheid so that the lives of millions of South Africans could be a little easier. But aside from Cry Freedom, you don’t see anybody else mentioning his efforts, lest Jay-Z decide to put his face on a shirt and perform on MTV Unplugged again, right?

You can miss me with that one.

[1] Honestly, a leather bustier on a guy is less hip-hop than this loser.

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