• » Name: Meka Soul
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Slap-Boxing With Jesus

Cyber Beef Is The New Hip-Hop

Before I start this I’d like to mention how not too many people bothered to sign the petition I created to get myself removed from hip-hop the other day, so I figure I’m either not worth anybody’s time in the long run, or that I haven’t pissed off the remaining ethnicities in this world yet. And here I figured all that was left were the aborigines.

Anyways, despite my status on this site as the resident harbinger of Internets scrapping – which, in effect, is about as ridiculous a using one’s own bodily wastes to get high (which is just sick in every aspect) – I’ve always considered beef of any kind to been meaningless, and in the electronic case, ridiculous. Granted, there have been times where I found the shit to be hilarious – like the time Jay-Z deshierbe portador Tru-Life had his goon squad hack into Jim Jones’ MySpace page – and there are the (many) times where I have incited an e-riot or two but for the most part I try to steer clear from these petty contretemps because they almost never end on a peaceful note, not to mention the fact that it’s silly in the first place.

Besides, I don’t take Interweb threats seriously these days, as it’s pretty easy to sit behind a computer and spew wild jibba jabba under an alias, not to mention that as soon as beefing guilty parties step away from their respective keyboards any and all sense of the beef tends to fade away with it. In that sense, the point of the entire beef was moot to begin with.

Think about it, though: it’s pretty awful in today’s society where a website like a MySpace of a FaceBook can single-handedly be responsible for destroying families, not to mention that there was this story I read a while ago about a guy who traveled cross-country to try to burn down an e-heckler’s home. It’s bad enough we live in a time where people walk around with nuclear missiles in the back of their mail trucks a la Loc Dog in Don't Be a Menace to South Central While Drinking Your Juice in the Hood; now I have to be worried somebody’s gonna attempt to punch me out of my unlaced sneaks one day too?

No wonder rappers drink so much Robitussin nowadays.

The reason I bring this up is because rap beef’s come full circle now, and even now my fellow untalented schmucks are getting into the mix, having their own issues with other bloggers. Not to question anybody’s trendsetting, but how silly is it when we – the lowest rung of the journalism ladder – duke it out with our fellow bottom-feeders? I don’t even like that site, but I have to shake my head at that one. I may talk my shit and cause a maelstrom, but beefing with my compatriots is something I’d never resort to.

Well, not anymore.

I guess the point of this entire rant is that some people need to just let things slide. I’m basically at the point now where if it’s not fucking with my cash flow, I could care less about beef. I don’t need to worry about if my pride is at stake anyways; my mom tells me I’m cool each and every day.

And to think: I didn’t have to toss in a racial epithet to capture your attention. Give the false braided bitch a gold star.

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