One Day In The Life……

Success is to be measured not so much by the position that one has reached in life as by the obstacles which he has overcome.

Booker T. Washington

The year was 1981 and the sun was pelting down on the concrete like a wide-nosed hose attached to an ocean. The urine scented streets made the unbearable heat…, unbearable. Clearly only the strong could survive such a hot and sticky atmosphere. Nevertheless, these city streets, as well as the surrounding Bronx blocks, made up the actual birthplace of Hip Hop. If a tree never grew in Brooklyn there are some unexplainable roots in the Bronx.
On this day, the Hip Hop culture was being cultivated on the corner of 163rd street and Union Avenue. And, by mid noon, the sun was hotter than a Do The Right Thing scene. The boogie down curtain opened in 23 Park, and as far as the eye could see the park is simply littered with litter and people littering. Twenty-three Park was so named for the public school that once rested adjacent to the playground. Now the (former) school is a part of the litter. It was not long ago PS 23 was the pick of the litter for parents choosing an educational facility for a young child. Rumor has it that the former Secretary of State, Colin Powell attended PS 23—severely challenging that tree growing in a concrete city theory.

There is a silver chain-linked fence that surrounds the basketball courts that are laced with variety of self-titled playground legends. Onlookers peeked through the fence at all of the ballers that are donned in low-top sneakers and high-top fades. At this juncture Nike, the Portland-based sneaker factory, was still a half a decade away from infiltrating this park—the NBA seemed even further. No time or space for advertising, just raining jump-shots drizzling from the blue collar hands of the likes of: Pee-Wee Smalls, Ivan Jackson and Morris High School legend, David Crosby. Spectators from all over the city watched as countless jump-shots and endless finger-rolls, rolled softly in the air, sometimes ricocheting off the metal backboards to a chorus line of ooohs and ahhhs. Witnessing the ball handling wizardry of Willie Mitchell underscores the gap between corporate interest and community confines.

Not far from the basketball goals—not to be confused with goals of playing basketball—are mounds and mounds of neighborhood kids statistically doomed for the grave or steel cage by 21. These kids are dressed in anything but swim wear, but that doesn't stop them from playing tirelessly in the front of an open hydrate. In some states this open hydrate "activity" would be illegal, but here in the Bronx its just another day in the life. The water “sport” that's taking place is just further proof that necessity has always been the mother of invention. The police cruised by, in police cruisers, overtly praying that they were anywhere else—on a cruise, perhaps. Almost simultaneously, the neighborhood B-boys stare back, each side not remotely trying to hide the mutual distain—sort of like a West Side Story script. On this very hot day, the ice grilling almost seems welcomed, if for no other reason than to add a chill to the mugging air. The chilling disdain from the two groups of people (that will never formerly meet) seems unreal—but is real. And, the light blue, Buick duce-and-a-quarter cruising in the one car parade, proves just how real, with the Shalamar hit blaring to a slow speed….

It’s got to be real/ girl, I can write a book on how you making me feel.

The contempt for both the police and the neighborhood B-boys can be cut with a knife—and sometimes it is. On the south end of the park sits a 25-foot high, graffiti –tatted, handball wall. The wall divides couples playing the inner city version of tennis or racket ball (minus the racket and tennis ball).

The ball of choice is a hard, pink rubber Spalding slightly larger than a plum. The Bronx is not far from the U.S. Open, which is annually held 7.4 miles away, (in Queens); but watching this game, that distance seems like 400 years.

As the night begins to creep in and the non-residents creep out, a white moving van (of sorts) pulls up. If U-haul were to do an inventory spot check, I’m pretty sure there would be one motor vehicle missing. Finding the truck wouldn’t be hard either, this despite the spray-painted attempt to hide the brand name. The driver (totally ignoring the NO PARKING sign), hops the curb and pulls right into the middle of 23 Park. About a dozen guys unfold from the two row seating and spill out into the park. Some people stare, while others just ignore them as they ignored the parking restrictions. One of the guys moved to the back of the truck, opened the lift and started to unload a cabin full of equipment. The unloading began: massive speakers & rolls of neatly wrapped speaker wire, a bull horn, lights, turntables, an eight-legged table, a mixer, night lamps, amps, a couple of receivers, another amp, an industrial fan, a orange extension cord, a police barricade—yep a police barricade, and 10 milk crates of records are all amongst the hurriedly emptying equipment. In less than 20 minutes, the crew is set up and ready to perform for the TOTALLY unsuspecting and now semi-circled crowd.

In an instant, with the equipment snuggly plugged into the tax payers street lamp a neighborhood kid from PS 23 named, Melvin Glover picks up the mic and spits….

Broken glass everywhere/people pissin’ on the streets ya know they just don’t care/I can’t take the smell, I can’t take the noise got no money to move out/I guess I got no choice. Rats in the front room, roaches in the back/junkies in the alley with a baseball bat/I tried to get away, but I couldn’t get far/cause the man with the tow truck repossessed my car.

For the rest of the world it’s apparent that a Hip Hop legend is born, but in the Bronx, this is simply just another day in the life.

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1 love,
Ray Lewis

POLITICS FROM A –to- Z

In a recent fire Bob Dole's library burned down. Both books were lost. And he hadn't even finished coloring one of them." —Jack Kemp

More and more often people have been asking me: “Why do I judge President Obama so harshly?

Not lost in this irony…. Is the fact that the essence of the question is fairly judgmental. I simply love people. The fact of the matter is I don’t judge any man—not even Barack. I take my salary-free job too serious.

Side bar: raise your hand if you are equally committed to a monthly task for no commission…, other than your community.

More times than I care to count, I turn down money for a Ghetto Proverbs post. My fear is compromising the authenticity for my perspective. So, to think that I would judge Barack personally, would be extremely insulting to me…, that is if trading wits with an unarmed person could be remotely insulting.

My universal task is to analyze, critique and offer constructive criticism on any man, woman or organization posing in a position of aid to the community—my community, and the birthplace of this inner city truth. You know, just like Hip Hop.But, I am sure you knew that just from this blog title. That is unless your chamber is empty.

The ultimate goal is to be a voice for the voiceless, while trying to get my community to understand why they feel the way they do. Honestly, I think I have more fun than they do. One day the feelings will be mutual. I have too much faith to believe otherwise.

I think Barack is an interesting person—almost fascinating. This is why he is mentioned in this blog more than any single person on earth. He is an extremely polarizing person. Barack is neutral (unless it’s popular)—then he’s assertive (that’s politics for ya). He’s witty when he has to be and charming (which is very popular) especially during an election. Barack is articulate (which is insulting when you think of the covert assumption). He is athletic (albeit horrible at basketball, bowling, and golf)—thus making him a fan more than an athlete. He is a smoker, which (of course) is almost never mentioned since it will nibble at his popularity—and no one with an unloaded chamber wants that, right? In fact, my dear sweet, sister once told me that Barack is a role model, but she thinks Pookie from New Jack City isn’t because he smokes. Sometimes life is truly stranger than fiction.


Barack denounced his life-long role model Jeremiah Wright, because Minister Wright was upsetting his popularity.I am so glad my mom didn’t take that (Barack) approach when I boo-booed in my pants during a tightly-fitted, close proximity church service. I think true friends and family are with you for life, regardless of how popular or unpopular. Clearly, politicians have different standards—making the title role model ever so quizzical.

Nevertheless, (and despite all the odds telling me otherwise) I decided to tackle this Barack phenomenon philosophically—from A-to-Z. When, I’m done hopefully, we all would have learned something—even if that something is…., how much of your stimulus check will be owed when you file next year’s taxes.

Ready?

A) Have you ever heard a white person described as articulate?

B) Why is it that black people never refer to Bill Clinton as the first black president anymore? Either he wasn’t and the comments were dim-witted or the chamber is jammed, searching for an answer.

C) Name an unarmed Caucasian male that has ever been shot in the back by a police officer. Take your time.

D) What do you think will happen first.., Pontiac will make a come back or (unaided) Barack will mention Darfur in a press conference?

E) How did Clinton lose his “black president” title, but more than half of Barack staff members are ex-Clinton members—including his wife or soon-to-be-ex?

F) Who do you think speaks more to the plight of black people, the largely popular Barack or the marginally popular Farrakhan?

G) I’m still waiting for Hollywood to release a major theatrical with a black man starring as God. FYI: this may be the only job Barack couldn’t apply for since his name is Islamic. Maybe life is stranger than fiction.

H) Who do you think make up the majority of Heaven’s, population democrats, republicans or activists?

I) …. probably, have been invited to my last Barack party.

J) Who do you think Barack will name as the new Supreme Court Justice?

K) Who do you think will win a political battle between Karl Rove and David Axelrod?

L) Lemmie guess how many people voted for Barack, but wouldn’t know the difference between David Axelrod or Axel Foley.



M) In the next 4–to-8 years, Michelle Obama will appear on more “Most Influential People List” without a job, than she would if she did hold one.

N) Never go to law school if you have an opportunity to marry a half white president. After all, the latter is far more influential (see M for more details).

O) Someone reading this just crossed me off Oprah’s book club.

P) If the President’s slogan is change, why did America skip the Geneva Convention on Change? Maybe, “CHANGE” is regional.

Q) I am grading these questions on a curve.

R) During the next election, it’s important to remember that change rarely (if ever) works from the top down.

S) I think it stinks that an American can vote without (first) passing a test in social studies, political science, philosophy, psychology or Greek mythology—especially since capitalisms could never exists without them.

T) Ever wonder why 99% of all media outlet’s headlines only have three words in the title? (i.e. War on Terror).

U) Most portable devices that you own make it much easier for your Barack-led government to keep you under surveillance. FYI: for the device(s) you don’t own, The Patriot Act will take care of that!

V) I saw an “apology expert” on CNN that was analyzing Mike Vick’s face to determine whether Vick’sapology was sincere.

W) WWJD? I saw this on a bumper sticker on my way home from church on Easter Sunday. Maybe the driver left before the pastor got to the resurrection portion of the service.

X) After this post, I have a feeling that X-Ray will take on a whole new meaning.

Y) What are you supposed to YELL if there was an actual fire in a movie theater?

Z) I pray one day that the Zip Codes in America will one day regain their value.

My main man Robert Carter taught me to always end on a positive note. (Z) was just my way of saying thanks, bruth. Rest in peace.

click on blog arrow title for bonus beats


1 Love,
Ray Lewis

Warn er Brother

Slaves lose everything in their chains, even the desire of escaping from them.

Jean Jacques Rousseau

If someone stopped me on the mean streets of Lithonia, Georgia and asked me who I believed are the best musical artists of my 44-year generation…





I’d first say, hey man, where’s your Obama shirt?

When I got a bit more serious, the names: Stevie Wonder, Beethoven, Marvin Gaye, Miles Davis, Billie Holiday, Quincy Jones, Ray Charles, Earth Wind and Fire or (my personal favorite) but not necessarily my final answer, Omar, would probably come to mind.






However, if the street talker asked me who the most relevant artist of my generation was or is? My answer (without hesitation) would be Prince.

While his live show is simply a must for the living, his recorded music is (for the most part) hit or miss with me. I rarely toggle through my music collection and pull a Prince joint off shelf. However, I love his middle finger industry swag so much that you’ll find countless discs of his in my assortment of artists.



On Tuesday, March 31, The Artist Currently Known As, added another gem to his storied catalog. This time, unveiling the pop life’s protégé, Bria Valente, as a bonus disc to this neatly completed electronic trifecta, just in time for spring break. Aside from the outstanding and refreshing new music, the soon-to-be 51-year-old musicologist just continues to shatter the realm of conventional [industry] wisdom, while driving a stake through the radio slave owner’s counterproductive heart. That fact alone earned my recession-friendly, $11.98 and honestly, it’s worth twice that. Most gems are. His latest sparkler, LotusFlow3R, was unleashed with an exclusive distribution deal with local retailer, Target, and the Purple One’s member’s only website. You don’t have to be a fan of Prince’s music, but rather a champion of revolutionary change (there’s that word again) to understand why his pivotal positioning is paving the way for aspiring artists not even born.

The head-nodding, down-tempo (78 BPM), rock-laced Colonized Mind is currently my favorite, but that could change at the next listening session. Right now, the headphones sound like this:

If you look, you’re sure gonna find
throughout mankind’s history
A Colonized Mind
the one in power makes law
under which the colonized fall
without God, it’s just the blind leading the blind

Quite naturally, when you are digesting lyrics of that magnitude, it becomes increasingly difficult to listen to a melody about an umbrella. Prince’s not-so-passive “rain” on commercial radio’s formulated success is greeted equally with your local radio station [and corporately held entity] shunning any FM rotation spins from anything outside his Warner Bros contract. And, to think they lock Bloods and Cripps up for being gangstas. Now that’s funny.

I think people have gotten so complacent and indifferent to some of America’s subtle, yet shackled conditions that an independent artist is the equivalent to an Independent. Sadly, you’ll never live long enough to see either center stage in the White House.

click on blog arrow for bonus beat


1 Love,
Ray Lewis

It's About Time

There is never time in the future in which we will work out our salvation. The challenge is in the moment; the time is always now.

James Baldwin


In a feeble attempt to save what’s left of the earth’s ozone layers every spring and fall we mere mortals fine-tune our time on earth by flipping our clocks back and forth like a NaS single. Man, I sure hope Jesus has a sense of humor... but doesn’t wear a watch. Apparently, not even saving energy was a good enough reason for Americans to toy with time. So, in the fall of 2008, we delayed the seasonally scheduled time change to fire up our deteriorating economy.

Wouldn’t you just love to meet the stimulus scholar who penned the amendment to convince the earth’s Creator to delay Daylight Savings by four weeks, just so we had more time to frequent shopping malls? Now, that’s taking In God We Trust to a whole new level.

Along the shores of the U.S., the cloudy economy has overpowered the warm and fuzzy sentiments that usually greet our spring-forward daylight savings. And, from the porch & patio views on Wall Street, this appears to be the only savings plan in America still in tack. In fairness, I haven’t read the entire Stimulus Package, so I trust there just might be a provision in there to bail out the sun too.

Side Bar: Can a package be (both) a Bill and a Stimulus?

Isn’t that humorously ironic fact the equivalent of Chris and Rihanna recording a HIT on domestic violence?



Hmmm, a stimulus bill??? That's almost as funny as losing a pie-eating contest to Paris Hilton? Or, obtaining video footage of a police officer shooting an unarmed white kid in the back.

Side Bar 2: Did you know that Chris “Ike” Brown and Rihanna "Left Eye" Fenty's single drops next month and a Body Guard II movie deal is pending for Rihanna... further proof that there is no such thing as bad publicity.

Speaking of Barack….

The other day I was in the grocery store and a neatly packaged lady was on line in front of me. She was very cute and built like a seldom traveled Himalayan mountain. In the interest of full disclosure, most Saturdays in any southern grocery store is flooded with such scenic wonders.... However, underscoring the theory of quality vs. quantity is the fact that this sista was donned in a black velour Barack Obama warm-up suit. The mobile mural of President Obama on the back was simply impossible to ignore. This would probably be a good time to mention my NO such thing as bad publicity hypothesis.

As she turned her back to me, I presumed that I was chuckling to myself. But as luck would have it, she (over) heard me and asked, "What's so funny?" Ignoring the obvious retort, I said…, "Ah, nothing!!" Then I said, "So…., I see you are a HUGE Barack fan."


She rejoiced with a thunderous, "Yep, and I would’ve voted twice if I could." I smiled at the Floridian voting irony and thought (this time firmly to myself)…, I would have voted for a different clothing selection. Apparently, my silent thoughts grew increasingly uncomfortable, so she turned to me…., stared for a second, and sharply asked: "Aren’t you a Barack Obama fan?" Not alert enough to phone a friend who actually might be, I shot back… "ah, I’m more of a NY Knick fan... the outcome of their games are far less predicable."

[Had the hoop conversation ensued, I would have admitted Knick games are much less entertaining than her jogging suit]. Lucky for both of us that conversation never materialized — no pun intended.

She (obviously annoyed by my actual response) said, "All you Republicans are all alike." Brilliant observation, I thought, even though I am not actually a member of any political party. Afraid to burst her false assumption I shot back, "How do you know I am not an Independent?" She said, "I don’t care how many people live in your house, Barack is the only real option we black people have."

I thought, hmm, I moved my clock forward, but it’s still going to be a long summer.

As we walked towards our cars in the parking lot, an old school Chevy Impala cruised by playing a really loud (loosely-termed) song that sounded more like a Lil' Wayne auction. At this point, I offered my buggy and suggested she looked both ways before crossing.

She probably thought I meant the street.


click on the blog (arrow) title for music clip

1 love,
Ray Lewis

Black Epilogue

Black people have always been America's wilderness in search of a promised land.
-- Cornel West,


Whew, 2009.

More often than not, some well-educated people (a very relative term) have approached me with this youthful exhilaration about the first black president of the United States heading to the Washington, D.C. in a couple of weeks. Am I alone in the humorously ironic fact that these well-intended, euphoric-laced, enthusiasts are celebrating a black man, headed into a (haunted) white house, in the nation’s murder capital? I didn’t have the heart to remind these blind loyalists that (less than a decade ago) they celebrated the same ritual in “honor” of Bill Clinton—who they foolishly dubbed the first “black” president. Bill is starting to find there is much more to this race thing than your home address. In any event, this blog would be much more difficult without the unsolicited input of some of my black brethren—whom I love and pray for every day.

MOVING ON UP [insert the Jefferson’s theme]

There is a plethora of pastoral pews packing black church parking lots and loading buses and heading to D.C. for this “historic-themed” inauguration. The District of Columbia must be that one exception to that separation of church and state rule. In fact, a former co-worker told me she was going to take the week off and head to the White House, credential-less. I can only assume that CNN must have lifted her recent probation for excessive absenteeism. You know, for a color so rich and uncompromising as the foundation of the Black race, my people sure make tons of effortless concessions for people that could care less about them or the slave ship of free labor the nation was funded on. Yeah, I know Barack is different. He is going to bailout the auto industry, save the economy, reform the school system (by the way his kids are headed to private school) correct the housing market, put an end to war and terrorism, and spit on a Puffy re-mix. If that sounds ridiculous, wait until you see the black church parking lots on January 19th. I actually like half of Barack. After all, he is unflappable, well-spoken, consistent, nicely attired, and very valiant. Of course, so is my accountant, but......

TIME FOR SOME REAL CHANGE

Just imagine if all of the Barack bandwagon ballyhoos decided instead of flooding D.C. for a media-driven photo opt and cormorant dinner plates; they decided instead to cut a credit card in half
and refuse to apply for another one unless the interest rate was fixed at 5% (or less) for the duration of Barack’s tenure in office.

What if my black people decided to protest all NFL games for one year because they felt Michael Vick’s treatment was excessive.

Imagine if we decided to put all of our direct-deposited checks in one community-invested bank (of our choice) in exchange for an interest-free loan on all big ticketed items (regardless of credit score). The only caveat is all interest-free bank loans must be automatically withdrawn to ensure timely payments. The bank will be able to invest the direct deposits of 13 million people starting January 21 and the community has a real jump-start to improving one’s credit score.


Imagine if this rich uncompromising color decided to donate 5% of their annual income to save Morris Brown College—whose campus, as of this writing, is water-less. Can you believe that? In exchange for the community’s good will, Morris Brown would waive the first year of tuition for all incoming freshman, who agreed to help revitalize the campus (based on the student’s field of study) up to 10 years after graduation. Each one, teach one would be my motto.

How about all of Barack’s Baptist backers donating 3% of their income to General Motors in exchange for an interest-free loan and 75% off the reduction off a GM car that is currently rotting on a neighborhood lot?

Finally, what if we all agreed to donate 4 weeks of our professional time—on a rotating shift—to help rebuild New Orleans?



In exchange the volunteers (in conjunction with the corporate workforce) will have their 2009 income taxes waived for a year—you know like real public servants. One day we will understand that the government works for the people, not the converse. I cannot wait for the day that Black people stop using their color to promote silly, political deception and start using it for the intended purpose, pure dominance…, no chaser. Happy New Year. (click on the blog title for video bonus)

One Love,
Ray Lewis

THE LIGHT

You can measure a nation by the way it treats the least among them

The comical political euphoria that is gripping black America is almost knee-slapping funny to me. Because of my outward smirk, people often ask me, [make that, people often TELL ME]… Ray, why don’t you like Barack, man? As if I am breaking some silly fraternity Faux Pas. The internal giggling intensifies when I respond with: First of all I could never dislike someone that I have never met. That would be ignorant. An objective voter would assess it would be equally ignorant to proudly and blindly support someone they have never met either. But, I digress. As crazy as (local congresswoman) Cynthia McKinney was (and still is) at least she came to my house for a pledge and support. So if I were to try to defend her at least I have a REAL, first hand foundation. Starting to see the light?

Nevertheless, its this type of social observation that got me ushered out of an Oprah book club meeting, when I simply stated, I think Oprah lowers that standard of journalism. Can you believe they kicked me out of the meeting for that? And, the meeting was at my house. I have come to the conclusion that Barack and Oprah have managed to elevate their social platform so high that they are above CONSTRUCTIVE criticism. Think about that for a second! They have not only circumvented the First Amendment Right, they are now reached mythical proportions. Like that of Gandhi, the Pope or Jesus Himself. Actually, I hear people criticizing the latter three all the time and defended much less. Imagine that Heavenly round-tabled discussion.

I think the saddest part of this commentary is layered with irony. For starters, it is my belief that Barack would warmly welcome an open conversation about some of the issues that I have raised (on this site) and that most loyal supporters are in total oblivion to. His two-time Patriot Act support would top that list. I believe his concerted effort to remain race-neutral is worth a lunchroom discussion. Especially since big, fat white women still clutch their purse when I enter an elevator and I am not going to raise anyone’s taxes. We’d probably need more than a lunch to discuss, The Point System, World Banking, Katrina, the real predators behind 9-11, and finally, the consolidation of banks that are being neatly veiled as a “middle class” Bailout. Barack, is so smooth, I almost fell for that one. ALMOST!! We would have to go to sleep-a-way camp to discuss why black kids are moving target practice for white police officers. My rabbit ear antenna must have failed when Oprah did that show.

Now, I know what you electric sliding Barack line dancers keep telling me… Man, just wait until he gets into office, he’ll address all of that and more. Funny, these same loyalists said that about Bill Clinton.

Remember him? Yep, that dumbly dubbed “Black President.” That's right the same president that called your boy…, Boy!! Oh, boy! Clinton and Barack appear to be boys, again. It is amazing what a 30-minute infomercial and a singing, fat lady (warming up an Oval Office) will do for a friendship. Man, politics make for strange bed fellows.




Rest well, Barack. I know black people and their euphoria…. it can turn like an off-key Mary J. concert or a crowded Barney revival. If that happens give me a call man, you know I’ll listen. After all that’s what REAL friends are for.

Click blog title for video, underscore.

1 love,
Ray Lewis

STRANGER THAN FICTION

"Majority rule only works if you're also considering individual rights. Because you can't have five wolves and one sheep voting on what to have for supper."

Larry Flynt


I remember back in 1985 when the [then] Washington Bullets drafted Sudanese standout 7-7, Manute Bol. At the time bean pole Bol was the tallest NBA player ever.

Two years later the perennial cellar dwelling Washington Bullets Mensa management showcased their “wizardry” again when they drafted 5-foot, 3 inch Muggsy Bogues—who (to this day remains) the shortest player in NBA history. (Queue Ringling Brother’s music here)

These circus-like shenanigans prompted starting Bullet forward, Mike Giminski, to question who will Washington draft next year, “The Bearded Lady?”

Well, worry no longer Giminski, the Nation’s capital is at it again, and this time they actually drafted a woman—albeit, beard-less. (Drum roll, please) In 2008, with world peace, the economy and home foreclosures at stake, the Washington Republican team draft, Friends sitcom reject, Sarah Palin.



Yep, the McCain camp selected a scandal-ridden, snowball tossing, igloo-living, birth control-less, soccer mom, who runs a state that’s whiter than a Taye Diggs barbeque. Palin’s first order of business is to continuously jar the memory of a 72-year-old presidential hopeful, who is one horror movie scene away from an eternal soil bath.



I don’t know what it is about those “game day” Washington DC execs, but it’s clear they (at least) have a sense of humor. There is an unwritten rule in sports (and politics) that state: If you are not going to win the game, you at the very least) should make the game entertaining. I believe the GOP’s week-long celebration has eclipsed that fact. Speaking of funny, has any one seen Condi?

In a recent interview Snow White Sarah said: What exactly does a Vice President do??? Hmm, I have not seen her one page resume, but based on that answer she actually may be over-qualified for this ticket. Now then, assuming she is going through with this charade, I thought it was only fair that I post some her duties; which I obtained from an "unnamed source" that rhymes with Billary:

o Color code index cards to ensure John McCain memorizes the addresses of all his homes.
o Change the lock on the White House bar and medicine cabinet.
o Keep a fresh set of depends for long McCain trips.
o Raise the minimum wage. Once this passed, that bill will be called the “In-Law.”
o Extend a hunting invitation to Barack and Biden and forge Chaney’s signature.
o Make Eskimo Pies mandatory in all school lunch programs.
o Make sex with a 16-year-old illegal unless the teen’s mom is running for Vice President. In that case, make it illegal to discuss it.
o Attend funereal ceremonies of World Leaders that the President murdered.

Man, if I knew the only criteria for the First Lady gig was love for the outdoors and babysitting illegitimate children of teen moms, I would’ve nominated Magic City “dancer” Cinnamon Buns. Heaven knows over the years I have contributed enough to her campaign.

This race would be knee-slappin’ funny, if it were not so pain-stalking sad. As I see it, the presidential seat is to simply instill hope. And, clearly Barack read that chapter of the Ringling Brothers handbook. He is such a great politician (FYI: That’s not a compliment). The overwhelming moral duty of the president is to uphold the will of the people. Unfortunately, those people include some of my friends, who swear Barack is “The Chosen One.” Who knew God was a Democrat?

That will of the people also includes my next door neighbor; who last year, took the seats out of a rented Honda Odyssey and showed a bootleg copy of “Boomerang” on the side of their vinyl-sided house.

I had a hard time holding back the laughter during the restaurant scene when 20 Grace Joneses put their legs in Eddie Murphy’s faces at dinner. After the movie I advised my neighbor what a bad idea it was to show movies on the side of the house. She told me that it’s Black History Month..., besides that fact she told me that her Section 8 vouchers are like a Visa cards; “it’s accepted” everywhere.

The people have spoken and the Washington Minstrel Show rolls on.

click on blog title for music clip

1 love,

Ray Lewis

CULTURE CLUB

"No culture can live if it attempts to be exclusive."
--Mahatma Gandhi

The western hemisphere's 2008 calendar has just reached the half way point, which metaphorically indicates that life in America is really about to heat up. Yeah. Unfortunately, for more and more U.S. residents this warmth is not always fuzzy.

The Barack Watch
Any day now Barack Obama will step to a podium near you to make his triumph speech underscoring this new & improved culture that he is attempting to bring to Washington. I wonder what side of his dark suit his flag pin will reside? I don’t know why but this ornamental presidential nominee kind of reminds me of putting pretty, decorative curtains on the window of an abandoned building. I’ll admit I am almost intrigued by the colored man’s victory and (flat-out) shocked that he only had to denounce two of his life-long friends to get there. Hell, even the Cripps had to murder a neighborhood homie for their stage credibility. Maybe world domination is different.

For now, I have all but exhausted my analysis with Washington and its cultural politics throughout this humorous race. However, Barack, if you are listening; if your intent is to re-energize my interest, you can start with painting the color of the White House.

NOTHING BUT NET

The NBA Championship between Los Angeles and Boston swings into action this week; and the Disney Network couldn’t be happier about this fairy tale ending to what is sure to be a TV ratings bonanza. This fact will be accentuated by the idling of American Idol. (Addition by subtraction I presume). Fear not hoop historians, while this series isn’t the art of wars like the battles between Larry Bird and Magic Johnson that mere fact won’t stop ABC’s parents, The Disney Company from selling it as such. After all, perception is everything, right Barack? On the court you’ll be so inundated with constant reminders of the NBA’s yesteryears, that you are liable to forget that not long ago, league MVP Kobe Bryant was sneaking up behind white girls and invading their sexual culture. Or, so I’m told. In all honesty, most of the players in this Boston/Los Angeles series are not old enough to understand what the NBA historical culture really exudes. And, for the ones that do understand this culture, David Stern made them “dress” accordingly.
It’s funny how Stern's dress code took the hip out of the hop, but still allowed Jay-Z to represent the (soon-to-be) Brooklyn Nets during the draft lottery. Stern was “masterful” in mandating the suit and ties, but, like most masters, Stern underestimated the core culture.

Jigga Man 1 Jewish Man 0

Bottoms Up
The other night I was on my way home, nodding to Meshell Ndegeocello’s new joint—which is simply sick, unless you don’t understand the black music culture. You knew they’d be one digression, huh?

In any event, there was a homeless guy petitioning for food on the corner of Spring St. and the eastbound I-20. About 50 yards to his right, there were a bunch of other men petitioning for the butt buffet at Magic City. Distracted by the “dance team” entering Atlanta’s cultural landmark, I almost ran into the back of the car in front of me that rolled down the window to give the homeless guy a case of bottled water. This transaction took long enough for me to miss the light. I turned down MeShell’s “Solomon” to attempt to ask the homeless guy why he was pouring the free water onto the pavement. Then I realized being homeless in America is still better than being a citizen in 70% of the rest of the world. The rest of my ride was fairly quiet, like the vocal roots of my culture.

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1 love,
Ray Lewis

CHANNEL ZERO

Even after all my logic and my theories, I add a mutha f@!&#, so you ignorant niggas hear me. -- Lauryn Hill The Score 1996

It’s an overcast warm April day in the “A.” Most of the half black/half “other” in the poor man’s version of Chocolate City are probably out spending their direct-deposited earnings on items that underscore why we wake during the weekdays to... fight traffic, engage in water-cooler conversations about the weekend, file paperwork, attend meetings answer phones, send emails, then break for lunch. After lunch we attend more meetings, answer more phones, and send more emails only to conclude by fighting traffic to get back to our foreclosed-riddled neighborhoods. We do this only to wake on Mondays (if you are lucky) to do it all again. We do this for the better part of our weekday lives and on our ironically touted "off days" one has to wonder is this ritual going to be the symbolic meaning for the dash on the stoned headboard, once we are laid to rest? I wonder.

The clouds will probably hide the sun for most of this spring Saturday, so I plan to buy some music, thus drowning my modern day slave wages in beats and rhymes until the gridlock forms on Monday morning. I can’t really fault my southern MASTER for this one because, unlike 200 years ago when that boat docked, I agreed to these terms, for better and for worse.

When I heard Tavis Smiley was leaving the Tom Joyner Morning Show my conflicted emotions concluded with…, hmm, didn’t Tavis agree to Uncle Tom’s terms? Besides, how bad can the traffic going to and from his Los Angeles studios to conduct a 10-minute soliloquy twice a week? It can't be much worse than being strapped to a tracking device of a 9-to-5? I sometimes wonder why corporate America spends so much time and money monitoring and recording what I do at work, when I am seated in an open cube. As usual I digress.


You can record Tavis’ commentary in an open forum around 8:24am EST on Tuesdays and Thursdays (until the ink on his resignation dries in mid June). Word on the wire is, Smiley got tired of Joyner’s empty-headed audience throwing darts at his Obama theories. Smiley’s tireless efforts to get his people (my people) to start using their heads for something other than a hat rack drove him to resign from his twice weekly moral monolog, according to Joyner. Smiley's open criticism of Barack Obama’s illusive attendance at the Tavis' black agenda revivals and townhall meetings drove a wedge between Tavis and the black audience from Joyner’s jovial congregation. I imagine nothing hurts a parent more than a life-long commitment of protection only to find out your child touched the stove once your back was turned. That pain accelerates when the child grows up and questions the parents’ intent from the start. That must hurt more than slavery itself.

Brotha Tavis, I think it is important to note that your agenda goes against the very grain of the media platform on which you stand. The reason your broadcasting check has so many zeros is the financial advertising rewards from the black radio format that is sweeping the country like toxins in meat. For a minute, forget the Ringling Brothers Circus you resigned from (at least J. Anthony Brown is funny). Take for example, “The People Station” in Atlanta. This V-103 morning show staff consists of 2 chimps and an unfunny cross-dresser — the latter being slightly redundant. You can fill Phillips Arena 20 times and New Birth twice with the sub zero IQ levels in that Peachtree booth. V-103's illiterate news, the retarded rhetoric, and the poisonous music rotation makes Tom, Sybil, J, and Ms. Dupree seem like Cornell West students. I cannot tell you how many people have kicked me out of their black community forums for expressing my disdain for V-103. And, I will never resign from my commentary until black radio begins to address: real musicians, the housing crises / predatory lending, the origin behind the AIDS virus, world banks (not just the one’s that financed 911), immigration, cloned cows, chicken shacks, check cashing booths, bar coded currency, V-Chips, recording contracts, healthcare, reparations, and Hollywood---and this is just my Black History Month agenda. It'll be hard to listen to a Chingy song after that conversation, huh?

The black radio apathy doesn't stop here, my brother. Travel to any city in Black Town USA and you’ll find the same black radio ritual with a Hot so-and-so, a Quiet this-and-that, Kiss what-not, or a Smooth jazz joint that rotates Kenny G residuals.


The one commonality with all of these stations is, some rich, fat white guy named Bob reclined in a long-back, leather swivel seat setting the black agendas and ignoring my black history demands. This man reaches WAY more black people than you or I combined. Furthermore, he pays some of these hot air personalities 10 times what Uncle Tom pays you. How else can you get a conscious black person to play a song like "The Hoe Is Mine" 30 times and never play a joint by Pharoahe Monch or Mos Def or Donnie or..



The fact of the matter is Mr. Charlie autographs the bottom of the checks and is controlling the strings on the top of this Universal Soul Circus called black radio. Mr. Charlie is kind enough to beep-out the “N” word from most of the Hoe songs.., ‘cause, he wouldn’t want to offend you. Naturally, Tavis, if you come to the black radio meetings on Tuesday and Thursday questioning or upsetting the white man’s agenda (which includes Barack), well you are going to face some hurdles. Not from the white man, but from the black man.. like the one who pulled the trigger on Malcolm. (see why I am not invited to cookouts anymore?).

Tavis, if you are listening black people love Barack and there is nothing you can say to change that fact. Those minds are made up. Period. The only time you will see any progress is when the burn from the hot stove fries their flesh. Just imagine the pain when our people find out that a parent's hug or kiss and a handful of coco butter won’t make that four-year ailment disappear.

And, now a word from our sponsors.

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1 love,

Ray Lewis

W.W.O.D.?

“The most essential ingredient in politics is sincerity and the sooner you learn to fake it, the more successful you’ll be.”

DEAR BARACK:
What’s going on man, this is Ray Lewis. Nah, not that one, but that’s funny though. I am far from the Ravens’ Ray, in fact, the last time I was in a limo (of any kind) was to bury my Aunt Vicky who raised me like one of her own sons. You see, Barack that’s how black folks are doing it in these parts. You may want to mention that to the bias media jockin’ you and Tiger, while clutching their purse when I get in the elevator. Oddly, this floral love fest with you is not just the media.

If my Aunt Vic was still here I am sure she would love you too. She would be no different than the slave ships of black folks that “pledge their allegiance” to you as well. Barack can you believe that one brotha told me that you were The Chosen One. Yep, just like Gandhi, Martin or well, you know Who. For the life of me Barack, I cannot figure out why my people feel so strongly about a man they hardly know, yet half of these same people don’t even speak to their neighbors. I am really puzzled by that, hence this letter to you. Barack, I simply want to know What Will Obama Do? I hope you don’t mind me calling you Barack.., after all, I hear your name mentioned so much in my circles I should probably call you dad.

When I am done I hope that you have the "audacity" to answer some burning questions that I have and (questions) your rock star-like fan base have a difficult time articulating (at least to my satisfaction). Sometimes, Barack these community forum debates— that border on civil disturbances—get so ugly that I have to walk away.

For example, one day I was in the barbershop and asked this hypothetical question:


What if Obama is a sly product of Karl Rove’s twisted, yet extremely effective, political strategy to keep “their man” (who just happens to look like one of us) in the Oval Office? I thought it was a fair question—one that I’d be curious to hear about your retort. Nevertheless, the barber I posed the question to called me Willie Lynch!! Can you believe that? Between you and me I knew he read about Willie Lynch from a car flyer the week before, but I was still almost offended. I was happy that he used his prior week’s street knowledge to mount his weak defense. After all, Barack, for some of us flyers are the only true form of education we have. I hope you address that on your road to the riches.

BACK AT THE SHOP

At this point it didn’t even matter that the barber didn’t know who Karl Rove was. But that’s what I am trying to tell you, Barack; I haven’t seen this much defense since the O.J. trial. In this barbershop it is now harder to find an O.J. supporter than it is to find a monogamous governor. Did you ever think that the annual Freaknik Fest would’ve moved from the Atlanta city streets to mayor and governor’s offices in New York? This CHANGE you speak about has many subplots, huh? As I digress.

Barack, how’s the wife doing? I ask because (at times) it seems like this campaigning is really getting to her.

I know she is strong and no matter what happens she's already elevated the First Lady's dress code. But take a minute and find out for me how she’s doing. Never mind us, Barack take care of her. Michelle seems cool to me.

Anyway, man I know you are are busy so I am going to wrap it up soon, but I have a few more really important questions to ask. Is that okay with you?


After you announced that you were officially running for office… how did you get the security detail from the alphabet bureau – headed by Homeland Security Secretary Michael Chertoff? Are you telling me the same Michael Chertoff (who was then Head of FEMA) and stood idle as black folks were washed ashore during hurricane Katrina is now in the business of protecting black folk’s lives? Come Barack, talk to me. If you don't want to answer that one, please tell me how Chertoff got a promotion after the genocide in Katrina? This change is really confusing me, man.

I also want to know, why you keep telling people that you are going to pull the troops out of Iraq and America still occupies every single war region that was fought by our military. Every one. If you win the nomination, please don’t play that card with McCain. He only looks stupid. I know he is a republican, but you may want to two-way Colin should that debate arise.

Can you please tell me what is going to happen to the people (like me) that simply refuse to put the V-Chip in their arm?



I am curious why do we need new borders in Mexico and not Canada? I know it has to be way more complicated than Mexicans look like you and Canadians look more like the Kennedy’s? Talk to me man, becuase secretly, Barack I am rooting for you. Just don't tell my people in the shop, becuase debating with them about you means more CNN and less BET and I can't thank you enough for that. FYI: Bob Johnson is an ass isn't he? You know, if you look real close at Chelsea Clinton's kinky hair...

Seriously though, I hear that banks are gearing up for the market collapse. Did you hear that? Once the currency fails, the government will institute the long-awaited Point System, so they can LITERARILY track every financial move made in the country. So, if you are not in the system you are done. And, if you are in the “system” you are really finished. Talk to me, man cause the people in the shop are voting because you are black and articulate. Personally, that offends me more than the Willie Lynch comment.

Finally, man, if Karl’s Klan is not behind you and you win the nomination, I will be the second to congratulate you after Michelle. However, if the market collapses, the troops stay in Iraq, and gas hits $6 dollars a gallon – all on your watch in the Oval Office, do you think many black or white people will remember your DNC speech?
I know the staff at the Cash N’ Carry barbershops won’t remember, because with this pending Points System implementation cash-only businesses will be the first to go.
On your trip to the White House., you may want to holla at them...

They'll need a change.

'Assalamu Alaikum

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1 love,

Ray Lewis

Disclaim HER

Who wants to be well-adjusted to injustice? -- Cornell West



The eagerly awaited, long anticipated new joint from the Princess of peace, Erykah Badu officially dropped in an unrehearsed 37th birthday gift to herself. This CD,... in a word is BANGIN’. But, before you cash in your Bush swindled refund check to add the new Erykah to your collection... We must do a little housekeeping first.

We are going to blow-up all the conflicting CDs in your collection. Now then, you will need some lighter fluid, a ski mask, gloves, goggles and roughly 1/16 of an acre... which is significantly less than Spike’s 40. Ready? Walk outside and start your large bonfire – be extra careful if you have a perm. Once the fire hits 2-story proportions, empty any (and all) of the following casually-termed music from your collection. Let’s start with: Destiny’s Children (even the ones with Michele), next up, P-Don’t He, Jermaine Dupri(hold on to the flicks of Janet), Ashanti, Clingy, the Ding Dong Twins, Keisha Cole, Akon, J. "I wish his birth were a" Holiday, Mario, Rhianna, Trey Songz, Robin Thicke (put his wife's pictures in that pile with Janet's). Okay, we are almost there. Toss in Chris Brown, Chrisette Michele, and Chris Cringle..., wait… we need something really flammable!! Ah, toss-in Tyler Perry….. ah, the soundtrack. Now that's a fire!! Now that the flame is really hot, go back inside and insert Erykah. Common & Andre use your discretion.

The new millennium musical mix of Nina Simone/ Billie Holiday/ and the early Ms. Hill is back with her fourth show-stopper entitled,
New Amerykah (Pt. 1: 4th World War).



If you haven’t bought a book in a while, skip this purchase (why break the cycle), just rent some rims. For me the true mark of a great artist is their continued growth, the artist’s non-conforming fear of radio asylum and the ability to preach and teach and deliver a head-nodding outreach. Badu may be underrated by those standards. Badu says her motivation for this one is quite simple: “It’s hard to enjoy the fruits of my labor when so many people are suffering.” So this CD is an attempt to address both issues. You can spend an hour on the artwork and the rest of the day digesting the lyrics. The sublets are numerous…, for example, the "radio friendly" single, “Honey” isn’t even listed on the CD cover. And, I thought I hated commercial radio.

The roof rattling, rebel-rousing street anthem “Soldier” is my absolute favorite joint on this 11 track dynamo (12 if you count Honey). Badu says she doesn’t write solutions because she is not qualified. But, she continued, let’s at least get organized and say… “How many people want to change?” That was the philosophical approach and premise of Soldier. Mission accomplished.

In a year where pacifist are torn between the hand-plucked choices of Barack and Hilary, Badu unleashes a gem that underscores that it not enough to have choices – but more important to create them.

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1 love,
Ray Lewis

BLACK BY POPULAR DEMAND

“When elephants and donkeys fight, it’s the grass that suffers.”


It's official this year, Iowans have officially elected more Black presidential candidates than they have lynched — but it is only January. Nevertheless, the Barack bandwagon is getting fairly crowded and unlike most, I have some reservations. It’s nothing personal; in fact, I like the brother with the big- bootied wife. My concerns have varied layers.

A) I am always leery of Black folks that white people tote: O.J., Tiger, BET’s Bob “The Hoe is Mine” Johnson, and Al “This Neck of the Woods” Roker... just to name a few.

B) I would love to know who is in charge of the PR machine that is pulling the strings on B-Diddy’s puppet show. I won’t even mention where his money is being laundered. Now I could be just suffering from political paranoia—but that doesn’t mean someone is trying to get US to drink the Kool-Aid. For the sake of argument, let’s assume Barack is in fact who he claims to be — I’d be the first to help him pick his White House team. You may want to close your door for this one.


Press Secretary, Tavis Smiley

What Tavis lacks in cool points he more than makes up for with his credible insight. He is the only chit-chat host on TV that has interviewed T.I., (former) Secretary of State Madeleine Albright, Mos Def and Babyface with the greatest of ease.


Vice President, Colin Powell.

This move can only be surmised as addition by subtraction. Aside from his (still) very credible military experience — imagine the faces at the Bush dinner table when this news hits the Vodka cabinet?



U.S. Secretary of Education, Cornell West.

The baggy pants fad will take a back seat (so to speak) to this educational wonder's low maintenance hair style. West’s approach to religion, humanitarian studies and sociological and economic empowerment will be refreshing no matter who is in the Oval chair — Barack just underscores this Black movement that has been idle long enough. A portion of West’s responsibility is to overhaul the arts & sciences taught from pre-school 'til the tassells sway in high school. I have added Bradford Marsalis and Spike Lee to round-out this all-star trio. And now, for once in our lifetime our school daze will be on pace to do the right thing.


Federal Communication Commission, Londell McMillan.

Entertainment extraordinaire is the Brooklyn-bred brother that gave Prince his creative freedom (back) just in time to sell his music via the internet long before the birth of an ipod or MAC-10. McMillan’s Spook Who Sat By the Door approach to the music industry could make author William C. Cooper (Behold a Pale Horse) shiver. His checkmate foresight includes an artist coalition campaign to start a 401k and health and benefit plans for artists who typically live rich and die broke. His humble industry moves speak louder than the voices that he represents. When it’s all said and done Londell will be the Nelson Mandela of this crack game neatly disguised as commercial radio.

Add AOL/Time Warner/Turner CEO Richard Parsons to Londell’s camp. Parsons can finally end his Turner reign with a quote from Ice Cube: “How can you be a Nigga for life crew/ with a white Jew/ telling you what to do?”

Secretary of Commerce, Earl Graves.

After the assassination of former Commerce Secretary Ron Brown, I am not so sure the Black Enterprise founder will welcome this challenge without a vest. But, like most great leaders sometimes you are not asked to lead — but your exemplary skills make the choice that much easier.

Fifty years ago one would think that the above-mentioned team is just a fictional tale from the crypt. Well, today this very black author is writing this piece from the heart of Stone Mountain.

Thanks Dr. King - I know you are listening. Have a happy birthday.

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1 love,
Ray Lewis

PASTIME PARADISE

There are two kinds of man; the ones who make history and the ones who endure it. Camilo Jose Cela

Brace yourself, this is the time of the year where most news outlets reflect on the year that was. How original. After all, who couldn’t stand to fumble through another ESPN 24-hour B-scroll of Mick Vick pawing his way to infamy? Mike may not have his falcon family to "kick" around anymore, but he’ll have enough prison pals to play with in 2008, should infamous icons like O.J. and R.K. defenses ever rest. For R. Kelly, it is important to note: “Double Up” takes on a whole new meaning in prison.


If Barry Bonds didn’t know what that clear gel he was rubbing was, Kelly may have some insight at least until the Feds readies Bonds' bunk too.

Some folks say the Feds are just picking on our black elite and their profiling knows no boundaries. I'll buy that. In fact, the alphabet boys have now crossed the clergy lines, picking on hometown homies: Eddie L. Long, and Creflo A. Dollar. My first thought is; names like Long & Dollar sure make IRS profiling slightly easier—almost like spotting a furry chinchilla hat at a prize fight. Realistically, profiling is just getting its second wind—-just wait until the government starts the housing market bail out, news of Creflo and Long will be out like Queen Latifah.

I tend to worry about the rich and famous as much as they worry about me. My focus is this presidential election. I thought it was mighty white of Barack to add Oprah to his meal ticket (no pun intended, of course). You will be hard-pressed to find a more essential election than the upcoming 2008 race to destroy what’s left of this so-called superpower. The term superpower is considerably humorous when you stop and think... the only essential commodity the rest of the world relies on the USA for is wheat and Tyler Perry—and one has WAY too much sugar.



If you listen to the loud whispers from China, they feel rice is a more than an adequate substitute to wheat. So, while the American media is distracted by “tainted” toys—China is preparing a global takeover that will change the world’s landscape forever. It is almost knee-slapping funny to think of America as a superpower, yet something as simply as the classic American car is a Bug made in Germany. Or, one of the nation’s leading cuisines is Italian pizza. Even sports attendance is becoming more and more irrelevant. As a matter for fact, there are more NBA fans in China than there are people in the entire U.S.!!! On the homeland front, the United States military, the U.S. currency and the once-touted American commercialism are all fading faster than a Bush Twin’s high. While China is shifting its mighty gears and waging a not-so-stubble war with the U.S., our ballrooms, boarding schools and barbershops are still wagering bets on who has the best butt, J-Lo or Beyonce?


I am not sure who wins that battle, but I am willing to bet, both of their assets are wrapped in jeans that were made in China.

Until ’08, Bottoms Up!!!

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1 love,
Ray Lewis

NOW WHAT?

“Art imitates life, unless you live long enough to understand that the converse is true.”


What Now?

If you look real close you can almost see the (not so imaginary) first down marker being drawn right down the middle of America. On one side, you have the 8% of America’s wealth. They are the ones that wake up every morning, get Chad and Little Johnny off to school. Kiss the wife, send flowers to the mistress and page the male page. They arrive in the office between 8 and 9, sipping on a cup of over-priced coffee then open their tax-deducted laptop to make sure that their off-shore accounts are available when the America dollar collapses. The other 90% of Americans attend their churches, vote for the senate seats and use their discretionary income to support their movies, attend ballgames, and TVO their talk shows. The latter 2% of the population are in prison — some without bars. So what now?

Well, I heard some Radio One broadcasters tried to organize a blackout day. A day where a group of conscious black people take a “well earned” day off from their typical misguided spending binges. I liked the idea, in fact I participated — unlike most of the targeted audience. It’s hard to measure the success of such a day, but watching black people come together to do anything positive is never a negative. Personally, I would have used the Friday after Thanksgiving as my blackout day — and still will. I found it somewhat ironic that the Radio One air personalities, who rely heavily on their advertisers to support the 40 song play list and Steve Harvey suits, would call for an African-American economic boycott. At best, this blackout was a conflict of interest. Luckily for Radio One their advertisers don’t listen to their stations. They were probably up counting the money in their off-shore accounts. The blackout irony continued as I watched some black participants passing by Wal-Mart in an SUV. Clearly that blackout will only last for 200 more miles.


What Now? Well, I understand that we have a black candidate in the presidential race and his wife looks like she would’ve participated in the blackout — after she got her nails done. I like Michelle Obama, but if her husband wins the nomination she may experience a blackout of a totally different kind. The Obamas might want to add Frank Lucas to their payroll.

What now? The Hollywood writers are on a blackout [Who knew it was contagious?]. The writers are fighting for DVD, video / iPod streams, and Youtube points to be added to their 4% residuals. It’ll be interesting to see who is going to write those brilliant Flava Flav lines.

What now?
Sorry, Obamas... prayer gets my vote!

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1 love,
Ray Lewis

INTEREST ONLY

"Just because a person is paranoid, doesn't mean that someone isn't watching them."
--Season 3: The Wire, HBO

I must say it was rejoicing to see my people come together for such a relevant cause like the Jena 6. My joy jolted when I swallowed the fact that for one day (at least), we put aside the community’s typical engulfment with the Jackson Five, the Fantastic Four, the Treacherous Three, 2 Pac or KRS-1. Although who could be mad at the latter?

In any event, as great a day as it was in Jena, Louisiana, I had an interesting passing thought about this (and other) large, predominantly black gatherings. I would love to see a crowd of that capacity pick a particular time of the protest, line the news media lenses up and all AT ONCE, pull out a major credit card and cut it in half. We can dump the depleted cards in a barrel marked INTEREST ONLY! By the way, that noise you just heard was some black republican who just shitted on himself. No worries his white wife will clean it up.... bet she can’t do the electric slide though.


You see the only thing that divides this country more than race, religion, or region is revenue. And, the foundation of revenue—or the lack there-of is credit. Credit card companies are making a KILLING, killing what is left of the middle class. And, whoever is left over, predatory lenders, public schools, and Pubic Hair Thomas will spend the rest of their life time appointments destroying.

Do you have any idea what Visa, MasterCard and Macy's call their cardholders that pay their bills on time? Dead Beats! Yep Dead Beats! Major credit card companies make the majority of your money (excuse me, their money) off the interest and to them Dead Beats (in their world) don't pay any interest. But, you probably already knew that, right?

So, humor me for a minute. Let’s say you get a (loosely-termed) "offer" in the mail to transfer your credit card balance from Card A to Card B. Card B has a 0% interest rate for 9 months. Hell, let’s make it an even year. So you take your $3,000.00 balance (with 15% interest, if you are lucky) from Card A and transfer it to Card B... as the gangsta mail offer suggested. Side note: black republicans think rap artists are the real gangstas! Yeah, watch your back, people!!! I think that’s Nelly and T.I. in the Bushes!

Now back to your 3-grand loss. If this balance is older than a year, it is safe to assume another year won't make much of a difference, right? Which is probably why you got the hostile offer in the mail to begin with.

[I wonder if Colin Powell is delivering mail these days?]

For the record, if you were going to pay this balance off within the 12-month, drug free zone (yet another excerpt from The Wire) that’s cool. Congratulations. But, for the other 99% of the Jena 6 Movement this applies to you... and you may want to get out the Vaseline for this one.

Once that 0% interest rate expires, your new rate(which could be anything) will INCLUDE all the interest that accrued during the 12-month “drug-free offer” plus 10-12% of the national average—which is what "variable rate" really means. So your original 15% interest rate (from Card A with the $3,000.00 balance) is now 25-30% or an additional $900.00 Well, at least your neighbor still has the house-warming toaster that you purchased on the card.

I remember after the second plane hit the towers on 9-11, one of the first things George Bush said (after the Floridian kindergarten class stop reading to him) was: “America will be fine. Americans should act natural and don’t change a thing, in fact.... go shopping.” I wonder if that was Bush's idea of a white sale?

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1 love,
Ray Lewis