Thursday, February 02, 2006

The Passion of What???

I opened the mail box when I got home and I saw this. Life is sooooo freaking hard and tragic I wanted to puke cry when I saw this article. Well... not really.

The victim:

Kanye West, rap star thug extraordinaire who, proudly ackwardly proclaimed on TV with Mike Myers during the Hurricane Katrina, Hollywood-type "feel good" telethon for hope thing they put on after the tragedy, that George Bush hates black people. Well, he's doing the Jesus victim thing on Rolling Stone this month. What a victim too. Millions of dollars, pimping songs to suburban white kids, after writing lyrics on his leather couch. Pop music is so translucent it should be a crime.

And then there is Rolling Stone and their "A"game. Typical big photo in the center of the mag that vaguely relates to the title caricature on the cover. The baby pictures. The story of trouble and agony... but wait this one is different. Sure his parents divorced (dude's dad was a Black Panther) and that's gotta be a rough experience but right there, page 43 next to the big "W" it says it: Raised in a middle class family. His mom was the chair of the English department at Chicago State University. Oh then he was picked on as a kid. Who the hell wasn't? Where's the freaking adversity? No trailer park. No loss of a sibling in a wicked drowning accident. No parent died. No walking barefoot in the Alaskan snow while yodeling through absurdly crooked teeth. But the crown of thorns fits this king of rap, eh? Winning all those potential Grammy's this month. Oh I am so sad... So sad. Bush hates black people.

Folks, Kanye writes rap songs. He's a rapper. An artist. Someone with a talent. A big mouth with some big balls to go along with it. So why do we put these people in their .49 cent Jesus pose to sell magazines? It's kind of pathetic. Liberals will deny the concept of the "liberal media" until they hit their graves. Yet, they can't recognize the absurdity of a wealthy rapper who can buy all the mac and cheese he could ever want, looking like the victim.


Cross posted on my diary at BIO.

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