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Slap-Boxing With Jesus

The Ultimate Lie

I shouldn’t even be writing about this right now. Seriously. I literally told myself I wouldn’t write about this Ghostbuster emcee until at least the New Year. But damn if this little bugger can’t stay the fuck out of sight for at least a week or so. Maybe I should just quit this rap shit for a while... Nah, then I wouldn’t be able to linguistically rub one out onto the frail mind states of the resident cyber-homos that comment, what with them feeling like e-terrorizing the schmucks who write for this site is a suitable replacement for a foot job from their homeboy during the holiday season. That’s not the gift that keeps on giving, people.

[||] on that one.

In any matter, during one of my increasingly frequent insomnia-driven nights I took a gander at the audio section and attempted to listen to the mixtape of Lil Wayne’s latest batch of Oxycontin handlers, Bad Ass Grasshopper. At this point I shouldn’t even be remotely surprised at anything the little wombat pulls out his drug-addled mind anymore. I mean all that Robitussin had to have fucked up his cognitive process, making his brain more or less resemble a Kirkland Signature rotisserie chicken from Costco Wholesale. Those 50-pack barbeque chicken wings be that crack, though.

Real talk I can’t even hate on the Weez for trying to get that Shop Boyz guap, however middling that is. If I were to ever defend his antics (which is probably something I’d never do) I’d say that his attempts to branch out into different arenas shows his willingness at developing a musical range, which would put him a step above the many carbon-copy rappers out today. But being DX’s blogging pariah you know my nihilistic ass wouldn’t even bother, because it’s quite fun when I put the serious journalism to the side to talk my shit over here.

To add on to Ketchums’ tips, the first rule in any profession is to take great interest in the field you’re in. So while I’ve never been nor ever will be a fan of Grandmaster B, I thought I would at the very least understand why the fuck he has a solid fan base. (Un?)fortunately I’ve not been able to come up with any logical reasoning other than that today’s rap fan is considerably similar to a member of either of the two major political parties in this country, and followers (the correct term would be a Stanley) of Weasel F. Fraggle are eerily reminiscent of the Grand Old Party's own in the sense that most of his disciples are just as loony as he is, an understandable notion when you take into consideration that a good chunk of them are primarily from a region that foolishly seceded from the rest of the United States because they thought that Negro slavery was “natural and normal" way the fuck back in the day. No wonder they still consider Blacks as three-fifths of a man down there now.

What’s even more coincidental is the fact that both Republicans and Wayne are essentially hypocritical liars, in the sense that - despite their anti-homosexual stances - both are known to have dabbled in the not-so-sweet science of man-on-child dry butt sex (where do you think the phrase “Superman Dat Hoe” comes from?), as well as fronting like they have some semblance of intelligence when they’re really blithering idiots trying to trick the general public. I wonder if that says anything about the fans themselves. Hmmm...

If this shit is true (and I’m praying to Shiva, Ganesha, Vishnu or whatever that Indian religion with the multi-armed elephant deity is I’m not), I’m glad I was born and raised over on the West Coast. I may have to pay just to live in a one-room jail cell in the middle of a city full of porno stores and nutrag motels with The Terminator as governor and deal with the likes of Lil Rob and Baby Bash every now and then, but at least I’m spared from drinking the Kool-Aid pickle juice that’s rotting out the brains of Lil Wanker rap fans as we speak.

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