DJing Stories: The Basics

Lately, I have been writing a lot. Mainly emails to my friends who are extremely far away from me, travelling the world doing more interesting stuff. And whatever else. #SuperJeally

Anyway, I love writing and this blogging business is all chips and gravy. But, I do have another passion. Something I would do for free, if it wasn’t such a hassle. And that, my friends, is DJing.

So, since I have so much experience doing weddings, bars, clubs, private parties, whatever else, I have A LOT of great stories. Unfortunately, I have a lot of crappy ones too. And although the lessons learned are just as important with each success and failure, the failures are more interesting.

In dedication to my birthday month and the amazing Quarter Century of life I am celebrating, I am volunterring June to discuss the wonderful world of Disc Jockey (i.e. all the insane crap I have seen, dealt with, or sadly had to partake in).

Okay, so in this first one I am gonna explain the basics and what people often get wrong.

1.       It’s not what you think. Most people think the music business is a great way to make money, meet interesting people, and have a lot of fun. First and ironically so, the money can be crappy or late, if at all present. Second, 99.9% of people tend to be annoying, in a drunken manner. Third, it is more work than fun. To summarize, the general public OFTEN ignores #DJDownfalls such as the set up and travel arrangements, alcohol restrictions, early attendance, late departures, and the inevitable “working with people you don’t like.”

2.       You get to be creative. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. You have to play what people like. And if you turn on the radio, you will hear some unfortunate crap. Ironically, DJs tend to be music lovers who appreciate awesome guitar rips, melodic bridges, soulful harmonies, witty lyrics, comedic observations, powerful delivery, and classic masterpieces. And most nights, we end up playing 2 Chains… ALL NIGHT! The difference: In your car or at your home, you can turn it off.

3.       It is so easy. I hate it when people say DJing is easy. Don’t let that DJ Hero video game trick you into thinking you have some aptitude for mixing music. And on top of that, I get folks who think they know what people like. And when I ask for their basis of reasoning, I get a response along the lines of All my friends like what I play!  Well, that’s nice… But honestly, if you aren’t making $500 from cohesively streaming your iTunes list, how important is their opinion?

4.       The Music Industry is tough. This is not for the light-hearted. You will get booed. You will get fired. You will get strange looks. And not because you aren’t doing a good job, but you have to play to your employer AND your audience. At times, these two groups will contradict. When you decide that your money comes second to getting people to like you, you’ve failed. Simple rule, make the women happy, the bartenders happy, and the person paying you happy. Everyone else is just extra.

DJing is tough because you are SO restricted on what you can play. If you are like me, you are more correct than wrong. #GotThatGenius Again, it’s not about who’s right or wrong. Entertainment is one of the most irrelevant factors. It’s about crowd control (i.e. what a Kindergar teacher does). Having the ability to manipulate large masses of people is a rare skill and even more difficult to master in an alcohol-prevalent environment. You want to be a DJ? Ha! As said in Taken, #GoodLuck

Rap Lyrics Demystified – Kendrick Lamar

In celebration of World Turtle Day, I acknowledge my Terrapin Alma Mater. That truly has nothingto do with this blog. So yeah, I just began with a tangent.

Anyway, recently, the songbird of the name Gaga Lady has remixed the lyrics of the occasional, unoriginal, essentially boring rapper Kendrick Lamar. You can hear him on such trashy songs like Hood Gone Love It, Fuckin’ Problems, and the remix to Black Lip Bastard.
Note: You can tell from his discography what kind of trashy, ratchet, often incompetent rapper he is. I mean, the man rarely puts together lyrics that inspire thought. And I say rarely with extreme emphasis.

To better prepare ya’all for the wreckage that is Mr. Lamar’s words, I have broken down the lyrics to a song, Bitch, Don’t Kill My Vibe, from his premiere album:

Look inside my soul and you can find gold and maybe get rich
Look inside of your soul and you can find out it never exist
He is saying that he is obsessed with money and jewelry. And that people who aren’t obsessed with this concept have no soul. I mean, what a jerk! I tend to have a soul based on true wealth, which we all know is generosity, sincerity, and humor. #TakeThat

I can feel the changes
I can feel a new life
Change, as explained in Saturday morning cartoons, is the science fiction action of transformation. Senor Kendrick is saying he can feel a new life within his science fiction. Umm, can you say pothead?

I always knew life can be dangerous
Now, he is saying Transformers are dangerous. Well, no shit Sherlock.

I can say that I like a challenge and you tell me it's painless
You don't know what pain is
Challenge, as used in this context, is synonymous with duel. Now, this “genius” wants us to believe he likes duels because they are painless. Obviously, I don’t know what pain is because I thought a duel was a standoff between pistol-swinging cowboys from the era most often associated with the 1850s Gold Rush. In SAT terms, a duel is to pain as Kendrick Lamar as to naptime.

How can I paint this picture
When the color blind is hanging with ya
First, you can paint a picture with a paintbrush. Ask a stupid question and get a stupid answer. Second, being color blind does not necessarily mean you can’t doodle. Picasso, for instance, was thought to have been afflicted with this ailment. Oh Lamar with your broken logic!

Fell on my face and I woke with a scar
Again, what uninspiring crap is this?

Another mistake living deep in my heart
Guilt trip huh?

Buried on top of my sleeve in a flick
Okay. You can flick things off of your sleeve, but can you flick a flick? Well, if it’s buried no. Thus, Mr. Kendrick is saying he attempts removing the immovable, which is failing at life. #WellDone

Well I am POOPED. If I have to look at any more of these lyrics, I will simply implode. I mean, this guy is soooo lame. He is no Gucci Mane. No Waka Flocka. No 2 Chainz, for sure! And he is definitely missing the power of Bieber.

Anyway, sorry to have bored the masses with this horrible excuse of an artist. To make up, I present a joke:

What do turtles say when they pick up the phone?
Shhheeeellllloooooooooo!! #ComicRelief

Consulting 101: Projecting

Sooooo last week was great. I got $1 in reparations, which I immediately spent at the McDonalds dollar menu. #BuildingTheEconomy #ImBlack #ScrewYou #JudgementFreeZone.

This past week, a little stressful. I feel like the world, mainly Court-Dawg, has been beggingme to right this blog.

Maybe I feel this obligation because I haven’t consulted in a while. Maybe it's cause I haven’t manipulated any particular group or set of individuals all week. Maybe I just miss wearing Business Cash to an office where I spend half the day worrying about what I haven’t drank at Starbucks and the other half conversing about financial blah blah blah and market value blah blah blah.

In truth, I miss mind control (what Smokey had on Debo). It is this type of self-righteous empowerment that makes consulting such the self-esteem picker-upper that it is today. And don’t get me wrong. Consulting isn’t the only profession where tricks and techniques of this kind are used. It’s just the one the readily comes to mind.

Any-who, the fundamentals can be used in your everyday life. To get your kids to clean their room. To get your roommates to clean the common areas. To get your parents to get off DeseNuts. No matter what the purpose, I am here to provide these helpful tips.

So I start my consulting 101 with this infamous concept known as Projecting. Projecting, as defined in my Goodwin-Webster, is the act of broadcasting one’s deepest insecurities to everyone. In some ways, this is perceived as a cry for help. Conversely, it is simply poor hiding. Either or, it is something we as humans all do. A good observer will be able to pick up on these hints quickly. Please find famous examples below:

1.       The seemingly queer guy who goes on and on about his girlfriend in Canada that no one has ever seen or met

2.       The residually-attractive, overweight, shy girl who is a whore and will do something strange for a little change

3.       The newly-employed, college graduate who, after landing a job, refuses to show her ID at the club because of how obviously important she is

4.       The single man who is constantly bragging about his late-night sexual exploits with hundreds of women

5.       An entire album of only 10 songs named 20/20, apparently inspired by some average chick

Okay so that last one isn’t fair. Obviously, #JessicaBiel is a perfect match for #TimberlakeTheGod and he loves her (I guess), BUT when a man wants to dedicate an entire body of work to a girl, to me myself personally, I see it as a red flag for OVER-doing it, aka HIDING something.

As I learned from Waldo, that candy-cane-looking mother clucker, the best place to hide is in plain sight. And again I reiterate, we, as in ALL people, have insecurities. And naturally, we don’t want to broadcast our secrets. So we overcompensate, ultimately acting and doing the opposite of how we feel.

So we realize this and we want to do better. How do we change? Why thank you for asking! To conquer this feat of NOT broadcasting, I see two options:

-Either become secure in your crap or
-Continue to lie to yourself.

Both of which are viable solutions. At the worst case scenario, the world will get another Facebook. And yeah, the kid with no friends would start the greatest social media craze ever. #ImJusSaying. In the best case scenario, there won’t be male prison inmates taking advantage of female prison guards. #DMV

So, win-win!!

Reparations

So before you come at me talking that stuff, I would like to say that yes I do know it is no longer Black History Month. In fact, I am sure we skimmed past Women’s History Month, April 20^th (i.e. Reflection on the Positive Impact Cannibus Has Had in our Society Day), and some other insignificant, but somehow important celebrations. Regardless, im gonna bring some knowledge to your attention, that is #frightening to say the least.

A good friend of mine, Trinidad Mary, 180-degrees from Trinidad James (mainly cause she enjoys Platinum, Diamond, Silver, and Gold on occasion), sent me a very interesting bit of news. This information, which I am not endorsing because the source is unknown AND because she’s a bit of a conspirator, broke some crazy ish down. Here’s the synopsis:

1.       The US has paid Reparations to various racial groups including but not limited to Japanese Americans, Ottawas, Chippewas, Seminoles, Sioux, Klamaths, and Alaska Natives.

2.       States such as Michigan, Wisconsin, Florida, South Dakota, and Oregon have paid reparations to various racial groups.

3.       The only group to receive national reparations was the Japanese Americans, an amount totaling $20,000 per person.

If you haven’t caught on to the point I am trying to make, let me try again:

The US has NOT paid Reparations to Blacks/African-Americans despite the 400+ years of slavery, billions of dead people, systemic oppression, and a semi-psychosis of self-defeat inherent in slave descendants, better known as Post Traumatic Slave Syndrome.

What was done to the Native Americans was truly horrible and recognized globally as wrong. What was done to the Japanese was painful and even more recent. However, the African-slave trade is an accepted mistake that is constantly ignored and whose effects are prevalant in today's society ("don't believe me, just watch" . . . BET. It's #coonery at best).

Maybe it’s because there are way too many Blacks/African-Americans to track. Maybe it’s because we are in so much debt that paying generations and generations of affected descendants wouldn’t stimulate the economy enough to provide a financial benefit to the US. Maybe it’s because no one cares.

So that brings me to my actual point: Will we ever get reparations? No, probably not. But the bigger question is Who in Black America is working on it???? Okay, I’ll wait. Nothing yet . . . I know. You can quit thinking because I am about to tell you something, NO ONE IS WORKING ON IT.

A pastor in Des Moines, Iowa told me that God doesn’t judge us on our actions, but rather our thoughts. It is your thoughts that dictate your actions. Then, he played some Kirk Franklin and I was done. B-T-dubbs, Iowa is kind of the shiznit. However, I digress.

Anyway, reparations are a complaint that has been reduced from a powerful consensus to a bashful annoyance. Yes, obviously, Blacks/African-Americans deserve it. It would be morally incorrect to disagree. But what self-less Colored/Negro is going to nail out the process of determining how to pay that out to every “Black” or “Afro-American” in the Continental US and possible territories? Should we just tell the Census that every registered Black gets a cut of $2,000,000?

I mean seriously, I would be mad, but I am realistic about it. America, unfortunately, is changing from the Salad to the Melting Pot. More and more care less about their "race/ethnicity/origin" and more are concerned with just being American. And as we plummet deeper into fiscal foolery, we will be more US vs. THEM.

But sir-eously, I want a check. . . #BoutThemFranklins

Snow White and the Huntsman Part 2: The Shocking Truth

So, a friend from work, by the name of Christopher Culbert (no relation to the Stephen Colbert of the #ColbertReport. Trust me, I have already asked like a thousand times), told me something that was nothing short of mind-blowing.

To paraphrase, Snow White is a cunt whose fairy-tale's purpose is to shit on any ethnicity with color. So yes, if your native land receives sun, this includes you. Whether your skin be olive, yellow, brown, tan, or black, a drop of color puts you at the bottom of the barrel.

To give a simple overview of Snow White, the childhood tale that we all have grown up to love, it is essentially a tale about a fair queen who wants to be the fairest one of all. She gets jealous of anyone who is more fair than her. At one point, midgets get involved (I am sure just for diversity) and then the queen dies. End of story. #Tragic

Secret Lesson Learned:fair does NOT equate to beauty.
As I mistakenly wrote in my previous blog, Charlize Theron isn’t looking to kill all the pretty bitches in her #thronedom so that she can be deemed attractive by default. No! She just wants to be the most pale female. So my bad! I'm sorry. I apologize K-Stew. The director chose the correct pale-face to fulfill the Cinderella prophecy. The pale queen who wants to be the palest broad in the kingdom can’t because a damn-near-vampire-chick stepped into her territory. And so on and so forth.

And then I began to consider, how many people made the same mistake I did? I was obviously brainwashed to believe pale and beauty were the same thing. This seemingly-innocent tale, with the 2 albino females fighting over who is whiter, is about much more than finding the man of your dreams. The theme of Snow White is to shame the working class. Clearly, if you are pale, you don’t get out much. Therefore, if you are a worker, aka a laborer, aka a blue-collar-average-day-Joe, aka a non-royalty member, then you will most likely come across a couple of sun rays in your day.

And that my dear friends is a mind-blowing week I had of hating Snow White.

Snow White and the Huntsman Part 1: My Re-Write

So it is Sunday afternoon, and I have the displeasure of watching the fairest one of all, some broad by name of Sir Kristen Stewart, battle her way through the classic fairytale of Snow White. #WholeTime I thought I was watching Game of Thrones but apparently I was wrong. Anyway, the supposed runner-up in the beauty contests, aka the HoneyBooBoo of all the land, is actually the gorgeous Queen, Charlize Theron. Aint yall ever heard the saying “the older the berry, the sweeter the juice” (SmokeyFromFriday)?

In truth, this story was unbelieveable from the second the Mirror-Mirror-On-The-Wall told us Charlize Theron is uglier than K-stew. Next thing, we had Gollum-looking fairies crawl out of pigeons and fly up in the air, like the man of Steel, except with mad fairy dust or ecstasy powder (your guess is as good as mine).

The film stars:

-Bambi’s dad, who looks like Rudolph without the red-nose 

-7 Irish midgets who get drunk splitting a six-pack AND fight like miniature Jet Li’s
-My main man Thor, who spent most of the movie swinging an axe, instead of his usual hammer; regardless, he was sexy
-And William, who is random and truly has no purpose

At one point, Charlize is crawling on the floor in black sludge, like she came out of a well similar to that of the Ring. So yeah, #WholeTime this movie was involved.

Despite the many problems I had with this movie, it wasn’t unbearable. BUT, I think with my creative input, it wouldn’t have been better per se, but definitely more interesting.

!!MY VERSION!!

Bella, the pale-faced vampire, is done with the Jacob/Edward debacle that has become her life and seeks refuge in a land far, far away.

Thor, PMSing over another fight with brother Loki, seeks solitude in the sweet wilderness.

Of course, Bella comes and fucks up his plan with her presence. So, he volunteers 7 friends to come fight her away. She seduces them to the point where they shrink and sing.

Thor then goes out of his way to hire Charlize to get rid of her. Charlize sadly declines because she is staring in an Action-Romance-Suspense-Comedy with Gerard Butler…again.

Consequently, Thor gives up and just kisses Bella. She literally wakes up and realizes she still loves Edward. So, she goes back to him, crying vampire glitter. And Thor returns to whatever planet he is from.

-End Scene-

Resurrection Sunday

Life is a beautiful struggle once said Talib Kweli, a phenomenal inspiring rapper from the new city of York. And he is show white (aka “so right” with some teeth missing). Me, myself, personally, I often wonder about why I have these constant, internal debates about the many subjects of life. Why do I hate flip-floppers and hypocrites when I myself grew to appreciate a change in opinion? And why do I preach change and revolution, when I hate updating my outdated way of life?

I have come to the conclusion that I am either insane or normal. For real-io, struggle is necessary. Actually its more of a necessary evil, but aren’t all evils necessary? (Quick answer, no!)

Anyway, struggling with oneself is the beginning of change. And we all know change is good. Because change leads to improvement.

I mean, can you imagine the person who is not capable of improvement? What perfect person must he/she/hermaphrodite be? This specimen, who obviously has it all figured out, like many narcissistic ass holes claim, MUST have nothing left to learn. And if that were really true, they should kill themselves. . . But if you know narcissists like I know narcissists, and I know #HellaNarcissists, they love themselves WAY too much to even consider the thought of self-infliction. However, I digress.

Sitting in Church on Resurrection Sunday (or to the non-believers Easter aka Peter Cottontail’s Annual Visit aka Get Chocolate and Peeps for Hallmark Purposes and No Other Reason Day), I have had the opportunity to reflect. One thing Christianity claims is the belief that we have the only eternal-living Messiah, aka our God can not die. This is emphasized on Resurrection Sunday when the human-form of God, which is also his Son (I know confusing), is killed and then returns in 3 days.

However, to the dismay of many Christians, this is not true. The idea of a dying/resurrecting/reincarnating God is prevalent in religions as old as ancient (yes I did just say that).

Example #1:  Persephone from Ancient Greece. She was the daughter of Zeus, abducted by Hades, and eventually became his wife (So yeah, Hades married his niece, which makes him a #perv). She dies and goes to Hell every year, but returns to bring fruit to the world.

Example #2:Ishtar is a Babylonian goddess, who was worshiped in northern Mesopotamia. She is associated with sex. So this chick threatens the Underworld’s gatekeeper to let her in. When she descends into the depths of hell, all sexual activity on Earth stops. The Gods decide that this is bad (thank you Gods) and forces her to leave. So her and her sister are on this rotation of who gets to be in Hell. Essentially, if you aren’t getting laid, Ishtar is in hell.

Example #3: Osiris from Ancient Egypt. The God of the afterlife, or King of the Living, or Merciful Judge, this dude was killed by his brother (like Mufasa and Scar) because his brother wanted his throne (like Mufasa and Scar #ToldYou). His wife puts him back together (Down Ass Chick) in enough time to get pregnant (he obviously got that good good) and then he dies again. His son is considered the reincarnation of the father (sound familiar?).

Anyway, some psychoanalyst, Carl Jung, suggested that resurrected pagan gods who preceded Christ were a foreshadowing of Christ’s death. And you may disagree but I find this interesting and compelling to debate. Either these pagan deities were a prediction that came true in the form of Jesus OR Christians have stole this concept and inserted it into Christianity.

Tick, tick, tick, BOOM! Mind blown!