Beneath the Spin*Eric L. Wattree
Contrary to popular belief, Black people do not have a moral obligation to be stupid.
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LET US EMBRACE KNOWLEDGE OVER SWAG
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And I wasn't the only one of my generation who hated rap. Don Cornelius of Soul Train fame also hated it. The New York Times reported, "While Mr. Cornelius had somewhat reluctantly but warmly embraced disco on his show, he had more misgivings about the advent of hip-hop and rap, which he thought were degrading. 'I could do it. I could be like ‘yowassup!’ But I’d look stupid,' he once told an interviewer."
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Personally, I think the drone-like monotony of inane lyrics set against the backdrop of a monotonous drum machine lulls the mind to sleep. That’s why the White establishment promotes it and allow its Black purveyors to get rich by disseminating it. It helps to promote Black stupidity.
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History should have long since made it clear to us that the White establishment doesn't tolerate anything that enlightens the Black community in any way. But they love rap, because it makes Black people look like ignorant and inarticulate savages, and according to them, it tells the truth about who we are - the product of nasty bitches and hoes who don't even have sense enough to pull up our pants.
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But I don't blame young people for this. They grew up with this assault on Black intellect in full swing, so it's normal to them. They think it's just the way of the world. I blame the older generation, who instead of taking the time to raise their kids, just fed 'em and sent them to their room to be raised by the White man and MTV. As a result, many of these kids don't even know who they are. We've let the White man inform them of who they are and what they represent - and instead of the White man telling them about their long history of creative intellect, he told them they're just a bunch of fools and idiots whose primary goal in life is to strut around in gold chains, gaudy glitter, killing one another, and slandering the very womb of their culture - their mothers, sisters, and grandmothers! - as bitches and hoes.
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KEEP IT GANGSTA, DAWG!
I BEAR WITNESS
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I sit, I watch,
and I grow ever more obsolete
as I bear witness.
and I grow ever more obsolete
as I bear witness.
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I bear witness
I bear witness
to a once vibrant people greedily gulping down society’s hemlock. Even as they claim to be “keeping it real,“ they continue to maim, kill, and despise their own in hot pursuit of the prime directive with the passion of a sheetless klan.
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I bear witness
to Black fists in the air in false solidarity promoted by self-serving poverty pimps as the world looks on and giggle at crooked fingers pointed elsewhere.
.
I bear witness
to the superficial attempt to ban the “N-word” while the new "un-niggas" stand around watching children killing children and fathers drugging sons, as they celebrate, lionize, and enrich those who denigrate the very womb of their culture with impunity.
.
I bear witness
to a generation of lost knowledge, cut off from its roots by Ronnie’s “Just say no” generation of crack, greed, death, and political corruption; A generation where the new N-word is pronounced “Responsibility” and the keepers of the flame completely ignore the destructive power of bitch, slut, whore, and tramp.
.
I bear witness
to the reckless disregard of the words uneducated, irresponsible, and classless. Should we not ban these words as well, or should we ban banning words altogether as we celebrate their meaning?
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Yes, I do bear witness.
I bear witness to a new world -
a world where gross ignorance comes disguised as enlightenment, and funky sneakers look down with disdain upon the sweet smell of Florsheim; a world where saggin’ pants and gaudy glitter enable country bumpkins to masquerade as elegant, and the exquisite surrender of eloquence is the very essence of what it means to be hip.
.
Where's Langston? Where's Baldwin? Where's Oscar Brown, Jr?
We need you stormin' this beach, because . . .
.
I now bear witness
to a world where motherhood stands alone, to be “dope” renders a smile, and posterity is forced to embrace the wind for paternal sustenance; A world where the walking dead strut about rapping the wisdom of idiocy, and we praise the illiteracy of vulgar nursery rhymes as profound; a world where the mother of salvation's final gasp is compared to the pigmentation of brown paper bags.
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Malcolm, Martin, where are you?
I once stood with a crowd.
Now seemingly alone, I'm forced to bear witness -
horrific witness . . .
to the imminent demise of our people,
.
And my heart bleeds.
.
I bear witness
to Black fists in the air in false solidarity promoted by self-serving poverty pimps as the world looks on and giggle at crooked fingers pointed elsewhere.
.
I bear witness
to the superficial attempt to ban the “N-word” while the new "un-niggas" stand around watching children killing children and fathers drugging sons, as they celebrate, lionize, and enrich those who denigrate the very womb of their culture with impunity.
.
I bear witness
to a generation of lost knowledge, cut off from its roots by Ronnie’s “Just say no” generation of crack, greed, death, and political corruption; A generation where the new N-word is pronounced “Responsibility” and the keepers of the flame completely ignore the destructive power of bitch, slut, whore, and tramp.
.
I bear witness
to the reckless disregard of the words uneducated, irresponsible, and classless. Should we not ban these words as well, or should we ban banning words altogether as we celebrate their meaning?
.
Yes, I do bear witness.
I bear witness to a new world -
a world where gross ignorance comes disguised as enlightenment, and funky sneakers look down with disdain upon the sweet smell of Florsheim; a world where saggin’ pants and gaudy glitter enable country bumpkins to masquerade as elegant, and the exquisite surrender of eloquence is the very essence of what it means to be hip.
.
Where's Langston? Where's Baldwin? Where's Oscar Brown, Jr?
We need you stormin' this beach, because . . .
.
I now bear witness
to a world where motherhood stands alone, to be “dope” renders a smile, and posterity is forced to embrace the wind for paternal sustenance; A world where the walking dead strut about rapping the wisdom of idiocy, and we praise the illiteracy of vulgar nursery rhymes as profound; a world where the mother of salvation's final gasp is compared to the pigmentation of brown paper bags.
.
Malcolm, Martin, where are you?
I once stood with a crowd.
Now seemingly alone, I'm forced to bear witness -
horrific witness . . .
to the imminent demise of our people,
.
And my heart bleeds.
******
When I was young I’ve lived the street life. During the 50s and 60s my father was the Iceberg Slim of drugs in Los Angeles - in fact, I knew Iceberg (or Rob) when he moved to Los Angeles. As a result of that background I started going in and out of jail between the ages of 12 and 19 years old multiple time. In fact, as a teenage I spent more time in jail than I did on the street. But as an adult I've dedicated my life to steering our people in a more productive direction. I've sought to emphasize our potential for education and knowledge over stupidity. We must begin to understand that the adversity that we've endured has made us MORE rather than less, so we must use our creative intellect to make knowledge the new "soul." .
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I soon found that I was right. Now, I can laugh at their ignorant asses, and I often do. Whenever you want to kill a bigot without going to jail, all you have to do is prove to him that he's not your intellectual equal. That'll cause him to die a thousand deaths every time he thinks about it. Look at how fixated Trump is on Barack Obama. It's killing him that Barack Obama, that "uppity" Black man is obviously more loved, brilliant, and competent than he is. Obama has proven that he's everything that Trump has always wanted to be, and without even busting one sweat bubble. So knowledge is the best revenge, not swagger. Swagger just makes you look like a goddamn fool - and you are, if you think that swagger improves your image.
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That's the message I want to get across to my people - and if we adjust our focus and stop being distracted by the frivolous, we have the potential to do just that. Instead of learning nursery rhymes, we should be learning math, and instead of indulging in swag, we should be developing class. Because the White man is not only dumbing down Black people in order to indulge his greed, he must also dumb-down his own people to maintain power. How are you going to get a society of highly educated and intelligent people to follow a raving idiot like Trump? You've got to dumb them down. But what they're not considering is that we have to have somebody that's smart enough to run the country - that's where Black opportunity comes in. We should be gorging ourselves on knowledge, because there's no better time than now to level the playing field.
THE HOOD RAT
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Baby,
I’m sure you know that I love you.
You’re everything I need.
You fit the bill of all my desires,
a perfect match for all of my dreams.
From the moment I first laid eyes on you,
You were everything I craved -
that luscious vision from across the tracks,
that delicate flower beyond my blade.
*
But what you ask is foreign to me.
You need something that I’m not.
You said, just tweak my nature a little bit,
and you’ll give everything you’ve got.
*
But that "tweak" you need is who I am -
it’s my essence, can’t you see?
How can you speak of loving my soul, but
not the hood rat that is me?
*
While "hood rat" may seem trite to you,
it’s the essence of my being.
So forget about what all the other’s say,
here’s what it means to me:
*
I’ve been brutally dragged through the pits of hell,
yet, managed to survive,
well educated and fully functional,
when I came out the other side.
I scrounged the lessons taught at Harvard,
because knowledge, I found, was free.
But they’ll never obtain the lessons I’ve learned,
or the knowledge that makes me, me.
*
While the "elite" may have heard a mournful Trane,
or Miles muted in the night,
but not in the context of hunger and pain,
or hopelessness, hatred, and blight.
*
So while I've lived the life of a hood rat,
I’ve reaped a knowledge that money can't buy;
a knowledge passed on to my son and daughter,
which has greatly enhanced their lives.
*
Thus, I wouldn't change a thing in my life -
I’ve faced Hell and passed the test.
I have a PhD in adversity,
that's made me much more,
rather than less.
*
So unlike the people at Harvard and Yale, who
try to buy intellectual clout,
they only study the genius of Miles and Trane,
while I'm who they’re blowin' about.
*
So when snobs try to slur me as "just a hood rat,"
I say, "thank you," and don’t take offense.
I take great pride in surviving the travails in my life,
That’s what gives me my confidence.
*
The Ivy League degrees of those of means
are only paper compared to mine;
while they have a "receipt" for knowledge obtained,
my lessons are ETCHED within my mind.
*
I can teach philosophy to Aristotle
with the adversity that I’ve endured,
so any snob who tries to match my wit,
will come up short, and that’s for sure.
*
Snobs walk about quoting Socrates and such,
through their "education" they are prone;
but while they’re spewing the thoughts of various dead men,
I spend my time developing my own.
*
Never give the thoughts of ANY man
priority over our own;
You must collect the facts, and think for yourself,
that’s where Harvard and Yale has gone wrong.
*
Preacher, politician, potentate,
whatever their point of view,
God didn't bless them with any knowledge
that he failed to bestow on you.
*
So being seen as a hood rat has its advantages
against racists of limited wit;
I simply quietly wait for their condescension,
then show ‘em that they ain’t shit.
*
While God made birds to fly and fish to swim,
he gave man thought and that's the key.
So any man who thinks he's superior
will have to PROVE his wit to me.
*
Thus, knowledge is the key to set us free,
no matter what the people say,
and there’s nothing more formidable than
a knowledgeable hood rat,
which you’re looking upon today.
*
Yet, these are the things you want me to purge,
and spurn the life I’ve led,
but I’m sorry, my love,
as much as I love you,
the soul of a hood rat is my edge.
I’m sure you know that I love you.
You’re everything I need.
You fit the bill of all my desires,
a perfect match for all of my dreams.
From the moment I first laid eyes on you,
You were everything I craved -
that luscious vision from across the tracks,
that delicate flower beyond my blade.
*
But what you ask is foreign to me.
You need something that I’m not.
You said, just tweak my nature a little bit,
and you’ll give everything you’ve got.
*
But that "tweak" you need is who I am -
it’s my essence, can’t you see?
How can you speak of loving my soul, but
not the hood rat that is me?
*
While "hood rat" may seem trite to you,
it’s the essence of my being.
So forget about what all the other’s say,
here’s what it means to me:
*
I’ve been brutally dragged through the pits of hell,
yet, managed to survive,
well educated and fully functional,
when I came out the other side.
I scrounged the lessons taught at Harvard,
because knowledge, I found, was free.
But they’ll never obtain the lessons I’ve learned,
or the knowledge that makes me, me.
*
While the "elite" may have heard a mournful Trane,
or Miles muted in the night,
but not in the context of hunger and pain,
or hopelessness, hatred, and blight.
*
So while I've lived the life of a hood rat,
I’ve reaped a knowledge that money can't buy;
a knowledge passed on to my son and daughter,
which has greatly enhanced their lives.
*
Thus, I wouldn't change a thing in my life -
I’ve faced Hell and passed the test.
I have a PhD in adversity,
that's made me much more,
rather than less.
*
So unlike the people at Harvard and Yale, who
try to buy intellectual clout,
they only study the genius of Miles and Trane,
while I'm who they’re blowin' about.
*
So when snobs try to slur me as "just a hood rat,"
I say, "thank you," and don’t take offense.
I take great pride in surviving the travails in my life,
That’s what gives me my confidence.
*
The Ivy League degrees of those of means
are only paper compared to mine;
while they have a "receipt" for knowledge obtained,
my lessons are ETCHED within my mind.
*
I can teach philosophy to Aristotle
with the adversity that I’ve endured,
so any snob who tries to match my wit,
will come up short, and that’s for sure.
*
Snobs walk about quoting Socrates and such,
through their "education" they are prone;
but while they’re spewing the thoughts of various dead men,
I spend my time developing my own.
*
Never give the thoughts of ANY man
priority over our own;
You must collect the facts, and think for yourself,
that’s where Harvard and Yale has gone wrong.
*
Preacher, politician, potentate,
whatever their point of view,
God didn't bless them with any knowledge
that he failed to bestow on you.
*
So being seen as a hood rat has its advantages
against racists of limited wit;
I simply quietly wait for their condescension,
then show ‘em that they ain’t shit.
*
While God made birds to fly and fish to swim,
he gave man thought and that's the key.
So any man who thinks he's superior
will have to PROVE his wit to me.
*
Thus, knowledge is the key to set us free,
no matter what the people say,
and there’s nothing more formidable than
a knowledgeable hood rat,
which you’re looking upon today.
*
Yet, these are the things you want me to purge,
and spurn the life I’ve led,
but I’m sorry, my love,
as much as I love you,
the soul of a hood rat is my edge.
,
.
The piece below is the kind of thing that I'd like to see coming from our people, where excellence in music, poetry, and the eloquence of true knowledge and sophistication takes priority over ignorance and swag.
.
I'm literally sick to death of seeing such a brilliant people being dragged down by a modern-day minstrel show. The link below is an example of music and poetry that’s been inspired by excellence and a knowledge of craft, instead of trying to get by on ignorance and swag. Rap is the music of the lazy-minded who don't want to bother to learn to play an instrument, or obtain the knowledge to write coherent poetry. All they want to do is learn to recite vulgar nursery rhymes to a drum machine. So if they're that lazy-minded by nature, what are the chances that they have any wisdom whatsoever to bestow?
.
But I shouldn’t even have to point this out, because anyone with any kind of intelligence should be able to immediately see that rap is a musical assault on the brilliance of John Coltrane to embrace the minstrel show of Stepin’ Fetchit, and poetically, it's an attempt to obliterate the eloquence of Langston Hughes and James Baldwin in an attempt to promote Mother Goose. So, anyone with any kind of mind at all should be able to easily see that we’re moving backwards. We're allowing our children to be led and influenced by some of the most ignorant people in the Black community.
.
"When she walked through the door she seemed to float on a cushion of air. Her understated beauty seeped into my soul and drench the very air.
.
"At that very precious moment, I knew life would never be the same. My new life had begun, with no more childish games.
.
"Goodbye, street-life, you're no longer home. Goodbye drugs, I'm no longer prone. Goodbye road dawgs, it was fun until the end, but the end now stands before us, with my queen who just stepped in.”
.
But hip-hop sounds like this:
.
"The bitch came through the door and my jaws hit the floor. Now other stanky hoes, I will definitely ride no mo."
.
Educated adults don't want to hear that kind of childish, swaggerin' bullshit. It constitutes vulgar nursery rhymes for people with the mentality of children - and it’s recited by people who don't know the difference between a comma and a semicolon.
.
Wake Up, my people!
.
I'm literally sick to death of seeing such a brilliant people being dragged down by a modern-day minstrel show. The link below is an example of music and poetry that’s been inspired by excellence and a knowledge of craft, instead of trying to get by on ignorance and swag. Rap is the music of the lazy-minded who don't want to bother to learn to play an instrument, or obtain the knowledge to write coherent poetry. All they want to do is learn to recite vulgar nursery rhymes to a drum machine. So if they're that lazy-minded by nature, what are the chances that they have any wisdom whatsoever to bestow?
.
But I shouldn’t even have to point this out, because anyone with any kind of intelligence should be able to immediately see that rap is a musical assault on the brilliance of John Coltrane to embrace the minstrel show of Stepin’ Fetchit, and poetically, it's an attempt to obliterate the eloquence of Langston Hughes and James Baldwin in an attempt to promote Mother Goose. So, anyone with any kind of mind at all should be able to easily see that we’re moving backwards. We're allowing our children to be led and influenced by some of the most ignorant people in the Black community.
.
THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN HIP-HOP AND ART
,
The problem with rap and hip-hip is it's not grown peoples’ music. Grown folk's music sounds like this:
.
"At that very precious moment, I knew life would never be the same. My new life had begun, with no more childish games.
.
"Goodbye, street-life, you're no longer home. Goodbye drugs, I'm no longer prone. Goodbye road dawgs, it was fun until the end, but the end now stands before us, with my queen who just stepped in.”
.
But hip-hop sounds like this:
.
"The bitch came through the door and my jaws hit the floor. Now other stanky hoes, I will definitely ride no mo."
.
Educated adults don't want to hear that kind of childish, swaggerin' bullshit. It constitutes vulgar nursery rhymes for people with the mentality of children - and it’s recited by people who don't know the difference between a comma and a semicolon.
.
Wake Up, my people!
.
Here's what poetry is suppose to sound like,
not a collision between ignorance and a drum machine:
not a collision between ignorance and a drum machine:
Eric L. Wattree
Ewattree@Gmail.comCitizens Against Reckless Middle-Class Abuse (CARMA)
.
Religious bigotry: It's not that I hate everyone who doesn't look, think, and act like me - it's just that God does.
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