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muMs is an award-winning New York City based Poet and a member of the Labyrinth Theater Company.


muMs the Schemer ===> Schemer: fiend, foe, friend, fear, /swallower of your fear, /blasphemer, /dreamer…. /to hold, to have, to be in a condition akin to, to victory he prevails! /A mathematical or philosophical diagram representing the astrological aspects of the planets, emotions and intellect on scales, /teller of your tale /in a letha-phorical outline, /a concise examination crafty and secretive in sign, /a systematic and organized chaotic plot. /I am muMs the schemer and you, are not. ===> The first ‘m’ is lower-cased /concerned with race /and small manipulative matters of that sort: /the things in our face /that bleed into our heart. /The ‘u’- also small- leads me to look to the sky, walk there the edge of a shore equating to particles of sand, stars, the moon. To be under all that which is bigger than me lead’s to the second ‘M’ capitalized for the manipulation /of that that from which all shall begin /and again /from when /we least expect. /The ‘S’ is the trick: the hush of it all. /The control over what we discuss, beckon or call /or plural to represent the many that know /or just that the path is a windy road? /No matter, it also is small. ===> muMs, the schemer and echo-er of it all.

welcome to a new day --goRealer

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

MY NIGHTMARE- a short story found on the internet.

While doing research on Molestation and girl gang life, I came across this short story by a woman only known as 'dramatizedent' on a website called Her story is captivating, heart-wrenching, honest and brave. I reprinted it here for convenience.


"I was interested in sexual things at a very young age. What seems to me now- being 24- abnormal curiosity. I think it may have originally stemmed from my mother letting my watch inappropriate movies and also her being with many men, in front of me.

My mom dated my stepfather when i was VERY young... about 2 or 3. They broke up and got back together when I was 5. That's when it all began... or at least maybe. Sometimes i think it could have happened when i was younger bc sometimes when i am in a sexual situation i will picture my mobile that was in my crib.

So when I was 5 my step dad moved in with my mom and i. That's pretty much when it all began. He would wake me up in the morning and get me ready for school. He would rub my stomach and then move up to my lack of breasts. As time went on he would kiss under my shirt. I didn't really think it was right but it didn't feel wrong.

When this wasn't going on he was busy torturing me in other ways. Forcing me to eat unreasonable amounts of food and that beating me on a timer for every 10 mins i wasn't finished my food. He worked night shifts so he was home with me all day and my mom came home at night when he was at work. The only relief i got was the molestation.

Because I wasn't eating-- who can eat when they have a huge knot in their stomach bc they know they are going to be beat?-- my mom started asking me questions. and when i was six and a half i got up the courage to tell her what was going on. She asked me to show her what he was doing... i knew it was sexual but i couldn't quite explain what he was doing so i just acted as if he was having sex with me.... but that is not what happened- he was touching me with his hands... all over now.

My mom called him to come home and I was terrified. He sat on the couch and cried, asked why I was lying about these things and asked me if i was just saying these things bc i was jealous.... "Yes" i lied...

A few months later a baby boy was born to them. Now they had their complete family... oh and me. i was not getting much attention, and i WAS upset by that. My eating problem continued and though the molestation had stopped for a bit it was picking back up as the baby wasn't so new.

Sunday nights were the only nights that he was home bc of work. the worst night of the week. My mom would cook dinner and i would sit across from her staring her dead in the eyes bc i was not hungry, but was being forced to eat. She would leave the dinner table and go into the bedroom. So here we were, him glaring at me for the whole 2 hours it took me to be able to finally force down my meal. Then it was time for a bath. so he would give me my bath then we would go sit on the recliner and he would touch me. with my mother sitting right there on the couch. this went on this way until we moved when i was 10.

I was no longer having eating problems for the most part. Breakfast was always a challenge with those nasty centrum vitamins that i was forced to eat after my half pound of cereal, but for the most part things cleared up with that difficulty. He was still touching me every chance he got... now coming into my room in the middle of the night when he got home from work. i was used to it- it felt completely normal and good... something that is always hard to admit. It was way better than being beaten bloody, or having your face slapped so hard you couldn't open your mouth. So i gratefully chose being molested.

He and I got along great. we talked on the phone every night while he was at work. It was like some sick and twisted relationship. He started in this time (i was probably about 11) orally molesting me.

One day my mom and i were riding in the car and she told me that when i was younger i had said he was doing things to me and she was asking basically if he was now and i was mad. What good would it do if i told her the truth when she didnt do anything the first time. Everything was going fine just the way it was. Sure i felt dirty and knew at this point that something was wrong... but it felt better than the alternative. "no i dont even know what you are talking about" i told her.

One day i was getting ready to go to a friends house who lived down the street. I was upstairs in his bedroom asking and seeing when i had to be home when he told me that he needed to talk to me about something. He said " do you like what we have been doing?" My blood ran cold. i was used to it for so long did i like it... "i dont know". so he tries a different approach... "Let me ask you this... do you dislike it" "No" i said and ran out of the house.

It continued getting more frequent.... almost every night i would think. and as i was getting older and interested in boys it was feeling more and more wrong. I feared him so much that i was so afraid to do anything. One night when he had finished i told him " i dont want to do this anymore"(i was 12) He hugged me and said he understood. And it never happened again.

When i was 14 i was having a normal teen argument with my mom when he stepped in and told me if i ever spoke to my mom like that again he was going to break my back. He had been hitting me again and i couldn't handle it anymore. Someone HAD to listen to me and do something. I went to school and at lunch I told my friend of 7 years what he had done to me. She went straight to the principal after lunch and that is when my life went into a spiral.... all of my darkest secrets exposed.

I was a cheerleader and we had a game that night and my mom was to pick me up after when in the middle of the game here comes my stepfather walking in frenzied. I was scared frozen. He told me my mom was really sick and he needed to take her to the hospital and that i needed to leave now. My mom was fine that morning.... On the car ride home i kept thinking that she confronted him ( my friend was telling my mom... i could have never done it) and he killed her. I just kept praying that she was still alive and that he wasn't going to kill me too. When I walked in the door i called her name and she was in the bathroom and called me in.

She told me she had just gotten a call from my friend and asked me if it was true. I told her yes it was true. She told me she was going to have to confront my stepfather. I told her i didn't want her to... to just call the cops and that way we would both be safe. I dint know why but i REALLY thought he would kill us if his secret was exposed. She went to the hospital with him, not agreeing to anything with me. I sat up awake in my room all night long. Laying by my bedroom door afraid to not be close to something. When they got home i was scared she had said something. But no one came in my room....

When he was upstairs (she slept on the couch) i left my room to ask her if she had said anything. She hadn't. So I was finally able to fall asleep. The next day I got home from school and my mom was yelling at me as soon as i stepped in the door. Saying that DYFS has been called bc my friend had told the school. She called him at work and told him he needed to come home bc he was being accused of molesting me. his response was "not this again".

I went down to my friends house, though i was still afraid he was going to kill my mom... Finally my mom calls me to come home- he had went back to work, but would be returning after work... Again I am up all night- afraid he is going to murder me when he gets home. the next morning my mom comes into my room and tells me to go upstairs and confront him basically. She told me to tell him what he did.

So i go upstairs into his bedroom... my mom behind me... and i say " you molested me" He asked me why i was doing this to him. He asked me what he had done to make me hate him and told me i was "going to go to hell for this"

The next few weeks was full of child services questions and more questions. Psychologist visits, internal exams.... He was forced to move out by DYFS... My mom didn't believe me and never pressed charges. This was in Feb... he moved back in in Nov. They didn't have enough evidence and since my mom wouldn't help me they said he could move back in and to just lock my bedroom door.... I would have if he hadn't taken them off when we moved into the house..... when he moved back in everything was weird, but in time i learned to take advantage of the situation, getting anything and everything that i wanted.

No one in my family knew about anything that had happened. my mom had told them that they had a trial separation... about 8 years later in Disney world my cousin was talking about his hard life and why he needed to use drugs.... I had been drinking and it pissed me off to the point of saying "try being molested by your stepfather everyday of your life then tell me how bad you had it". And here i had opened it all back up. It felt good and horribly bad to let my secret out. I was scared for my mom who i had always protected. I just let it out.

Anyway, present time is like 2 years later... my mom didn't talk to me for a while... and no one in my family talked to her for a while. He is not welcome to any family functions. I still feel hopeless sometimes. Like i wish i could go 1 day without remembering that. without blaming myself... even though deep down i know its not my fault... sometimes i cant see that and dont know that i ever will, and it angers me that someone ruined a portion of who i am. That THIS is who i am...

This is how i am trying hard NOT to live... but sometimes i falter...


Dont trust self or others

Be loyal- you must protect the family... keep secrets...obey... dont fight back

dont have needs

love means being hurt or used

dont ask for help

dont show pain

its your fault

keep control of yourself and everyone around you."



Monday, August 24, 2009

cheeba and deadlines

true speak: Marijuana may be a short cut to the imagination. For me it is good for the contemplation phase of creating; Good for pulling ideas from everyday life and jotting them down without any form whatsoever.

What I find more affective at unblocking the blocked artist is deadlines. Not the type of deadlines that you impose upon yourself. Those are easily broken. Someone has to impose a deadline on you so there is a sense of embarrassment if you don't get the work done.

A glass of Pinot Noir after the work is turned in helps to sooth the doubt. create. enjoy. create again.


Friday, August 21, 2009

Selfishness born of Beauty

If I could freeze just this moment of you; command the earth to stand still so that I may observe the simplicity that is beauty so grand, I’d want to protect it fiercely, keep it from the world and those that see you as I do. The manly fragility in me would divert sense, logic, pride, integrity, maturity and self-discipline until all that is left is emotionality and the need to make it last for as long as possible. Oh to have: Selfishness born of beauty. F*CK!


Friday, August 14, 2009

Definition of an Artist

ARTIST (ar'tist) n.
1. a) one who practices an art in which conception and execution are governed by imagination, style, and taste. b) a person skilled in one of the fine arts. c) a craftsman that executes his art with individual style.
2. often their work is judged according to the culture and the attitude placed on art at the time. Although they may earn recognition during their lifetime, they are usually not recognized for their accomplishments until after death.
3. Lives a life of unstable economic means.
4. Many theories have been put forth regarding their creativity, the most common one being that it is inherent, although if not developed and tested will remain dormant. a) They seem to create during moods, often intense, mostly lasting only a short while.
5. They have a feeling of brotherhood with each other that is timeless.
6. Thought to be haphazard, having no sense of order, plan, or direction, yet are known to be perfectionists when it comes to their own work. a) They make decisions on feeling rather than reason. b) Have problems with concentration.
7. They are stereotyped as mentally unbalanced. One artist cut off his ear in a passion of creativity combined with frustration about his art. It has not been determined whether their creativity has anything to do with this.
8. They are sensitive, aware, and alert.
9. They are tolerated by society, which allows them to live in accordance with their own natures.

(from a refrigerator magnet)


Wednesday, August 12, 2009

Dumb America

So I've been following this Health Care bill and debate that President Obama is pushing hard. I am so disgusted by all the hate that is being spewed towards him while he is trying to make going to the doctor something all Americans can do. As an artist, money for health care is something that I can't seem to afford with any type of regularity. I can't play a pick up game of basketball or a little two-hand touch football without worrying about hurting myself and not being able to afford to go to the hospital if need be. Just recently I broke my hand (again) and had to let it heal on it's own because my Health Insurance had lapsed due to my not earning enough in the past year. At 40, I'm living on eggshells.

But instead of thinking about the betterment of us all, they (republicans and the rest of the crazies) spread lies about President Obama's birth, his religion, that he is trying to make this a socialist country. I am not the one to use the race card lightly but if it smells like fish...

I keep telling myself that I will not watch anymore Cable TV but it is everywhere. I am ashamed to share a country with a lot of these people. Not so much because of the way they feel about him or his policies-- our country is built on the idea of thinking freely and I am thankful for that-- but I am ashamed to share a country with ignorant people who are happy in their ignorance. Now I'm no road scholar. In fact I dropped out of college to pursue a rap career. My grammar is usually off even though I consider myself a writer but I am always on a path to educating myself. I love to learn new things. The Internet makes that much easier but the US' ranking amongst the top 36 nations polled in education is 18Th and slipping fast. This "happy ignorance" thing has already infiltrated pop culture. Music is dumb, Television is dumb and to hear people at these town hall meeting complaining that the Health Care bill is too hard to understand annoys the intellect out of me. I'm ready to throws some fisticuffs! Or maybe we should just break the country in two. Call it Dumb America and Smart America. Wonder which country would have more people.


Wednesday, August 5, 2009

I'm Back

I'm Back from outter space...

and I just need to vent. make me a point about not worrying.

Dream, dream big, write with no spell check, take pictures in regular light when people ain't looking, if you feel like doing a Michael Jackson spin in the subway at rush hour, do it! Go after your dreams and put no pretenses on your existence here on the planet cause who the F knows right?

Yeah it me muMs, Craig Grant, Sirmumsila, Chrysanthemums... etc. I respond to all. It's been a pretty uneventful yet productive year. first off I had some major money issues that I'm sure all of you can relate to especially since most of my little audience consists of self made artists like myself. This ain't France homies there ain't no government subsidized art going on here. And actually money has been tight for quite some time now. basically through two failed relationships (that is now how I measure time). My pride wouldn't allow me to go out and get a job. no offense to bar tenders but I'm sure I'd jump off of something first. I am an actor even though the work has become scarce for someone so un-zac effron as me. o well no frets, no worry. worrying kills more people than... I don't know, I don't give a fuck about facts right now. I just know worrying ain't good for you so I don't do it at all. so here I was at 40 yo in December 08, basically money-less, girlfriend-less, refusing to get a regular job. I told people that I was living in cardboard box under a bridge in the Bronx. made for a good story but no one believed me. kinda like when I decided to tell everyone that I was gay so I could meet girls. I decided I needed a change. I got a call from a director who wanted me to come to LA to do a workshop of Elephant Man featuring Common. They had no money to pay me but the director insisted. so much so he reached in his pocket and was willing to buy me a one-way fare. There is something about fate or God or the Universe or like... energy. my mind was clamoring for a change and here was the opportunity. I said yes, packed a bag and took 200 of my last 300 sans the phone bill, and went to the poker table. With that desperate energy on my side I walked out of that poker game with 1000 dollars at something like 4 in the morning and was on a plane to LA with nowhere to stay 7:30 am. nice. Well, I ended up killing the workshop like I usually do when I concentrate.
I am a much-better-than-decent actor ( but as I learned quickly in LA that means squat). I wound up staying on a rather comfortable air mattress in Santa Monica for two months then moving to West Hollywood, where I now reside. I am well into writing a play that I am very proud of and am about to tackle the task of writing a screenplay. Some monies have trickled in and I am, after a nice discussion with my manager about how I am switching my focus from acting to writing even after acquiring a pair of decent agents out here, contemplating a future in advertising to go along with writing and acting. I just returned to LA from spending two weeks at my theater Intensive at BARD University in New York. It was an invigorating experience, especially staging the first act of my play and people understanding it as well as liking it!
Anyway, long story short, the universe gives you signs for your life journey everyday, at 40 I decided to listen and things are good, very good. Ta da bitches...

ok so look forward to my posts being a bit more personal than they have been but not quite as long. love you all. peace.


Thursday, May 14, 2009

Tuskegee Airmen Star Wars Style. RED TAILS (on the low low)

I just talked to my man who just got back from a month in Prague shooting the upcoming George LucasFIlm, RED TAILS. Based on the story of the Tuskegee Airmen, RED TAILS is a fictional take on the first African-American pilots to fly in a combat squadron during World War II. It's penned by John Ridley whose writing credits include Three Kings, U Turn, Barbershop and Undercover Brother. Ridley's script is from a story by George Lucas, who is serving as executive producer. So I'm sure there will be enough in this one to inform and display respect to the memory of the Tuskegee Airmen as well as please the action craving senses.

Cuba Gooding Jr. and Terrence Howard head an ensemble cast including Tristan Wilds, Cliff Smith (aka Method Man), Kevin Phillips, Lee Tergesen, Andre Royo, Jazmine Sullivan and Ne-Yo whom I heard put it DOWN much better than in Wolverine. Anthony Hemingway of OZ the WIRE is directing.

"We're working on techniques that will give us the first true look at the aerial dogfighting of the era," Lucas has said. "And our top-notch cast will really make this story special." From what I've heard one can take this to mean the CGI will be off the chain and the cast brings it in such a way that in my opinion* when it is released, there will be oscar talk.

...on the low low tho...
whatever, you aint heard it from me, gorealer

Tuesday, February 24, 2009

New Jersey votes today on bill to legalize medical marijuana

I DIDN'T WRITE THIS. just so you know.

TRENTON - The state Senate is scheduled to vote today on a bill that would decriminalize marijuana use for some medical purposes in New Jersey, and one of the bill's sponsors said he was taken aback by residents' reactions to the proposal. "I've been pleasantly surprised that the overwhelming response has been positive," said state Sen. Jim Whelan

read more | digg story

Friday, February 6, 2009

The art of enclosure: Surviving a bid

These walls work in my favor forging me as steele as I push for freedom.
I got knocked on the humble for smoking an el out front SPA one night- summer of 98 or so. I was twist and happy. Things is good, I’m celebrating. Life got purpose. I’m making more than decent chedar. Honey’s is checking for me, I’m swaggering. Blah blah blah go the talk between me and my mans and them out front SPA, el ash on the ground. Then up jump detects right when I’m bout to verbally punctuate my next move in life. Badge in my face, mouth full of smoke, the realization, the loss of control.

Now jail is about the realist place on earth. In terms of realty defined as basic human process. It’s a place where you come face to face with yourself. We’re all journeying towards the true us.

That right there was the foundation of my high. I mean I had smoked some serious chron.

So I’m like “Fuck all you detec mother fuckers. I ain’t do shit!” all loud and shit. The type loud where the spit come out with the capital ‘F’ and all that up in my head where they couldn’t hear me. You see I been here before and I know I gotta do this calm.

When you’ve lost control, one night can feel like 15 years.

African-American males in prisons and jails in the U.S. outnumber the amount of African-American males enrolled in higher education in the U.S., 583,000 to 537,000.

9.7% of black non-Hispanic males age 25 to 29 were in prison in 2000, compared to 2.9% of Hispanic males and about 1.1% of white males in the same age group.
All I could think about was finding some sort of control in the absence of it.

I sat easy in the back of the van with the cuffs on, tight. “Don’t move around too much cause them handcuffs’ll squeeze on you”, officer such n such said. In my head again I’m like “fuck you” real loud. “take that with you. Hope it make you feel bad”. But I weigh that against how bad this is making me feel. Don’t want them cuffs cutting in my wrists, my body expand when my anger get up. Now things in my head change. I wanna say “these cuffs fucking hurt!” But I know they’ll act like they don’t hear me.
1.46 million black men out of a total voting population of 10.4 million have lost their right to vote due to felony convictions.Now young next to me, sitting up against the doors, looking straight up at the ceiling, shook, sweating, scared. this his first time. He mumbling mad words up under his breath,
“ah fuck man … I can’t belieeeeeve this shit, oh my Goddddd! I ain’t even do nothing. Them cracks wasn’t even mine!”

In captivity you begin to fashion your mind to things like GOD and delusions.

Then young lost it. He lost his cool and kick his foot against the side of the van with a BIG F word. He said some nasty real foul shit, offend everybody: me, the detecs and the other two in the back of the van with us, slumped and complacent.
The MAN say,
“I told you about making all that noise back there”.
I makes sure he know I ain’t had nothing to do with the thud young made with his foot and the foulness he saying. I’m starting to loose the feeling in my thumb and every play I make is about me getting these cuffs off as soon as possible.
African-Americans constitute 36.8% of those arrested for drug violations, over 42% of those in federal prisons for drug violations and almost 58% of those in state prisons for drug felonies.Young finally calmed from his tirade. There’s desperate beaded sweat on his forehead and his eyes is red. One of his over worn Nike airs is half off. His white tee is dingy and there’s a huge Cubic zirconia stud in his ear. He got the evil nigga look on now. He give it to each next nigga that come up in the van.
African-Americans are incarcerated more than six times that of whites -- 1,947 per 100,000, compared to 306 per 100,000.

The U.S. rate of incarceration has increased by 22 percent since 1989, and is about 5-8 times the rate of most industrialized nations. Property crimes and assaultive offenses don’t account for the increase nor do the violent crimes that rate higher in the U.S. than anywhere else, but the “war on drugs” and “three strikes” crimes have accounted for 46 percent of new court commitments since 1980.
My high came down right as I was getting my desk warrant at the station. I talked my way out of having to spend the weekend in the tombs. As I was leaving, I heard young mouthing off again. He ain’t gonna see day for a minute and I’m on my way the spot to get me a nick b4 I head home.


Tuesday, February 3, 2009

Two Real Mavericks

February 12, 2009 will mark the 200th birthday for Abraham Lincoln and Charles Darwin. These two great mens names are rarely mentioned in the same sentence but one of the few comparisons between the two other than their shared birthday is that both Lincoln and Darwin opposed slavery at a time when slavery was a popular occurrence.    

Lincoln is quoted as saying, "Whenever I hear any one arguing for slavery I feel a strong impulse to see it tried on him personally". He then, on January 1, 1863, issued the Emancipation Proclamation that declared freedom to slaves within the Confederacy.

For Charles Darwin- in the book "Darwin's Sacred Cause"- the case is made  that it was his strong opposition to slavery the helped form his theories on human evolution. He believed in a connection between all living things. He concluded that all life might share a common ancestry. He then went on to write "On the Origin of Species: by Means of Natural Selection, or the Preservation of Favoured Races in the Struggle for Lifewhich became the most widely accepted scientific model of evolutionary biology.

One demanded that man be equal and fought a war within his own country based on that very ideal. The other proved that all men are equal and that the only difference between us and the fish in the sea is degree not type. Neither of these men were afraid to stand up for what they believed in even though there ideas weren't popular. We now look back and realize that it was fear that fueled ideas such as, "...the freedom of the white man is insecure unless the negro is reduced to a state of abject slavery..." and the non-belief of what we can now deem as scientific fact. 

The historical presidential run of Barack Obama drew many comparisons to Lincoln as well as John F. Kennedy and Rev. Martin Luther King. President Obama being a great admirer of Abraham Lincoln took his oath on the very bible that belonged to Abraham Lincoln. 

A friend of mine who worked on the campaign for Barack Obama knocked on many doors in Pennsylvania registering people to vote. He recounted for me of one such time when someone opened their door, saw all his Obama buttons and said profoundly, "It's okay, I'm voting for the nigger". 

Evolution? uh... yeah.

It's only been 146 years since the signing of the Emancipation Proclamation. With that said there are much older countries than ours who still view women as second class citizens. And Stem Cell research is going through the same hurdles that Darwin went through in concluding that organisms were infinitely variable.  

Yet it is hard to see the accomplishments of these two notable men in history and not question whether we've outlived the greatness of human thought. Will there ever again be those whose ideas and strength of character advance our collective intellect? Might we again begin to champion the importance education and intellect? 

wait... excuse me, The Hills is on.


Sunday, February 1, 2009

No Man of Steele

Former lieutenant governor of Maryland Michael Steele has become the first African American head of the Republican National committee.
Really? What a year for the brothers huh?!
I got used to seeing and hating Michael Steele tow the republican party line in TV punditry land. He would repeat all the republican talking points during the campaign season: the Bill Ayers, the The Rev. Wright (who gives Steele a run for his money in the black benedict arnold category) and the 3 am wake up call thing. He played is position well: the oppositions black guy.
What's funny about it is when he ran for the senate in 2006 he tried to pretend he wasn't a republican.
Now as the RNC party leader he says, "This is the dawn of a new party" and vows to take the fight right to Barack Obama. Does he really believe he is anything more than token? When it was clear that Hillary wasn't going to get the nomination the RNC chooses Sarah Palin to try and get the female voters that were upset over Hillary's loss. Now that Barack has won they choose Steele to run their party. do they really think the American people are that dumb not to see this as anything other than a blatantly obvious ploy? Does the RNC really think that the American people will overlook such comments like where he compared stem cell research to Nazi concentration camp experiments on Jewish prisoners? I guess they do.
I agree with SNL's Weekend Update anchor Seth Meyers when he said this past week "it doesn't work with just any black guy".


Thursday, January 29, 2009

My President is Black

I'm probably a little late on this but it stuck with me. I just watched the performance of Jay-z and young Jeezy at President Obama's Inauguration last week. I found out about this because Bill O'reilly talked about. Not that I normally watch Fox news but... well yeah I do from time to time just for a laugh.

If you don't know already Jay and Jeez were filmed performing Jay's new song "My President Is Black" . During the performance there were many comments from them where they called ex-president Bush a Bitch and used the words "Motherfucker" and "nigga" a lot.

"Im so proud to be black right now, I don't even know what to say... nigga... " - Young Jeezy

But back to the song itself.

Now I normally wouldn't have much issue with any of this: I mean this is Hip-Hop right? Hip-Hop is a medium for young urban people like me. We use words like Motherfucker and Nigga. I use it. Cause sometimes you've got to put a motherfucking Nigga in his place, you know, even if I'm a 39 year old multi-millionaire married to Beyonce. It's just the language of the streets you know, where I came from like 20 years ago.

I get it. We got a black man in office. Therefore a song.

Yes, a song. And since Hip-Hop is THE black music of the time, actually some rhymes. It should be rhymes that will reflect the sheer genius of Barack Obama's historical campaign. Something that will pay homage to the millions of Black people who died between the first day a negro stepped foot on American soil to the day one became president. It will be intelligent, sensitive, and humble. It will be ripe with all the possibilities that are open to the minds of our children right now and champion our resilience:

"My President is Black. my Maybach too and I'll be goddamned if my diamonds ain't blue... my money's dark green..."

yup. fire.