That NEW Adage

A pressure-relief valve about God, and just about everything else.

Life is Jazz is Life

Jazz is life.

In jazz, you take accumulated technique, knowledge, and skill, and create art in an instant. You prepare, by practice and experience and learning, to take circumstances– chords, rhythms, emotion– and create the best possible way (for you) to maneuver through a situation.

You don’t necessarily know what will happen or how it will turn out. The bass player might go somewhere else, the piano player might play minor instead of major, or the drummer may switch up the rhythm, and your prior preparation will give you the vocabulary to tie it all together and make art.

Life is jazz.

No one knows the future, but our experiences– mistakes and successes– give us the chance to deal with it. Our parents give us training and discipline, as do teachers, friends, bullies, stray dogs, and hot stoves. We take our ups and downs and use them to color the coarse sackcloth that is life’s canvas.

Bad news from doctors, poor drivers, shadowy figures, financial straits, and unrequited loves give us all the opportunity to artfully dodge catastrophe and emerge from a given situation successfully.

In both cases we use what we know to get through what we don’t know.

Life is Jazz is life.

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November 25, 2007 Posted by | Advice, Analogy, Art, Axioms, Jazz, Life, Life Lessons, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Wailin’ like Whalum!

In what field do you work? What activity do you wish you could make a living doing? Is there someone you admire in a particular arena that is the epitome of skill and expertise?

Are you a sports fan who admires A-Rod, or Jordan, or Peyton Manning? Are you a painter who loves the work of Rembrandt, or Picasso? Are you an aspiring actor or playwright? Do you work in the restaurant business, or the automobile design industry, or the cosmetology field?

If you think about it, every one of you has at least one person who is the icon of your admiration in a given area. I am a musician. By profession. I am of a blessed few who get to do the one thing I LOVE for a living, meager though it is right now. This means that the person I most look up to in the entire musical world does both what I love and what I do.

I am a saxophone player, and hopefully not a hack! I am not a poseur. I don’t walk around town with my horn on my shoulder, and I don’t dance when I play. I MOVE, though… For me, it is about getting better on that horn, and the musicians I most admire are serious about their discipline. My two favorite singers are Sam Cooke and Nat King Cole. My favorite female singer is Lalah Hathaway. Or maybe Sarah Vaughan. It’s pretty close. My favorite piano player is Phineas Newborn, Jr.. My favorite trumpet player is, I think, Clifford Brown. My favorite guitar player is, maybe, Wes Montgomery. My favorite bass player is Marcus Miller. I don’t have a favorite drummer.

There are a million sax players in this town alone. I love that the Lord gave me that instrument to play! It is so complex and so expressive. There are so many who play it well; Cannonball Adderley, Sonny Stitt, Coletrane, Joe Henderson, Grover Washington, Wilton Felder, Branford Marsalis, David Sanborn, Eric Alexander, Phil Woods, Paul Desmond (Take 5), Kirk Whalum, Bird, Stan Getz (Human velvet), Dexter Gordon, Chris Potter, Johnny Griffin, Kenny Garrett, Gerald Albright, and scores more.

The thing is this: Of all the singers I like, but didn’t mention, and all of the other musicians whom I just love, the ONE who is my favorite– out of all who have ever sung or played a single note– is Kirk Whalum. You can agree or disagree, you can argue and present your case for the brilliance of Bird or Trane, and you can cite the mastery of Sarah Vaughan and Stevie. You can talk about Jimi Hendrix and Marvin Gaye and Brother Ray. You can plead the case for David Ruffin, or Billie Holliday, or Wynton Marsalis, or Sinatra, or Donny Hathaway, and you will have some valid points. But for my money, the one who resonates with me is Whalum.

He has the ability to convey pure, raw emotion in a single note. His horn sings and cries and shouts and growls. He is at once soulful, and harmonically competent. Not many can say this. They are usually one or the other. It is an awful thing to hear a straight-ahead cat (musicians say “cat”) try to play some soul! And vicey-versey. He is the leader among guys who can make a sax sound almost human.

The moment I first heard him in a Denver record store way back when guesting on a Bob James record, I immediately asked the store manager who it was. I was hooked. That was how I wanted to sound! It sounded like he was wringing the notes from a wet towel! Every note was urgently played. I thought that if I could play like that, I would be able to tell girls with music what I was too scared to utter with words.

A year or so later, I heard him on a Luther Vandross album, and this one song, “Anyone Who Had A Heart, ” by Bacharach, repeatedly put me in the saddest mood. Beautiful! I have followed his career since the first day, waiting on album releases, and buying every record I saw his name attached to. Some of them were duds with the songs he soloed on being the only ones I dug.

Somewhere in there, I decided that I wanted to do what he did. I wanted to drop out of architecture school and become a musician. It was the only thing I felt that I could really do and do well. I wanted to make people feel whatever emotion I felt when I played a song or a solo like Kirk Whalum did. I had a long, long way to go. (I only have a long way to go now.)

I started from scratch, not having any guidance. I began to teach myself licks, and turns, and scales, and phrases. And most of all, I worked on my TONE– the way I sounded. I gigged with my friends who were grass-green like I, and we used to play at family house parties with just a piano amp, and no gear for no money. I graduated from there to playing for a gospel artist for no money. But we had gear, though.

After a year of that, I got a gig with blues singer, Denise LaSalle. I was on my way! I was making money, but the gear was AWFUL! I continued to teach myself by practicing the solos of Whalum, and my other “teacher,” Grover Washington, as well as any other artist that inspired me. I played lead vocal melodies, piano solos, guitar solos, and everything. The main thing, though, was to always be soulful. And to have that pretty tone.  

Friends would tell me (they still do) to be more of a showman, to walk into the audience, or to wave my hand like Dave Koz does. I just couldn’t. “I just wanna get better on this horn,” I always reply. If I am feeling what I am playing and move accordingly, sincerely, that is honest. For ME, it felt phoney to use gimmicks to get a response. I was trying to please musicians! If THEY dig you, then you know you’re doing something. I may be wrong.

Now, from time to time, I get the comment that I “sound like Whalum.” What was to be expected? I had played, really, millions of Kirk Whalum notes! Now, though, I have to find my voice out of all that emotion and wailing! There is already a Whalum. It’s hard to be discouraged by hearing that, though. I kind of get the same feeling as when someone tells me I LOOK like my father. How can I not like that? My pops is the MAN!

So… my question is this: How would you, as a golf fanatic, like to play a round with Tiger, or Ernie Els? How would you, as a basketball player, like to be on Jordan’s team? How would you, as a real estate person, like to spend time with Trump? Singer– Stevie Wonder? Cook–Emeril, or Rachael Ray? Actor– Hopkins, Hepburn, or Denzel? How would you feel if you, an average citizen, were called upon to perform with or for your greatest hero? How would you feel if, out of ALL the people in the world, the ONE person you most admire watched you do what HE does? And what if that thing that he does is not just your recreation, but your VOcation? How would you feel?

Well, today, at the church at which I play, the musical director said at the last minute, “Hey, let’s play that Whalum tune we closed with last week!”  That being the song from his just-released album that we sort of butchered up last week. At that very MOMENT Kirk Whalum and his wife walked in!!! Ohhh Lorrrd! I pride myself on not being scared of a musical challenge. How can I call myself worthy of being a contemporary of the masters if I am scared to do what I can do musically?

I was as scared as my little son, Max, when those guys in the hamburger suits come on the teevee!

Tim, the m.d., was like, “man, whass wrong witchu? I ain’ neva seen you like this!”

“I ain’ neva been like this,” I said, knees sounding like dice about to come up snake-eyes. “I ain’t prepared. That song has a crazy pattern that’s hard to follow wit’out a chart!” It was 9:57. Church started at 10:00. No time to practice, and I couldn’t punk out. So, I prayed, and we played. It was okay. Only minor mistakes. I do this for a living. But I didn’t want to sound like a scrub with the icon of my artistic life sitting 20 feet away! There was a problem, though, and that is the reason for this post.

The service was about GOD. What about GOD? Isn’t HE a greater audience than Kirk Whalum? Kirk, being a Godly man would say, “yes.” (I know this because I have met him a few times, and he occasionally comes to my church. More pressure?!) All I could think of during the musical portion of the worship was, “Don’t mess up, Kirk’ll think you’re a scrub. Play that flat 5 lick right here, Kirk’ll think that was cool. Don’t overplay, ’cause Kirk’ll think you’re into your self. I wonder what Kirk thought about that tag I put at the end of that last song?” I mean, I was in the same room as my hero, and I was playing HIS song, his style, his instrument! It was too much.

And I was so ashamed of myself. I kept apologizing to God for making Him ride in the back seat so Kirk could sit up front. “I’m sorry, Lord,” I kept saying, and I kept shifting my focus back from God to man.

“I wonder if he heard that bad note? I wonder if he heard me play that cool run? Oh, Sorry, Lord.”

My wife consoled me, saying tht the Lord understands, that I’m only human. True, but that fact didn’t keep Him from holding us accountable for the fact that we sin. Without Jesus, we still suffer the repercussions of our actions. Humanity is no excuse for faults.

I know God forgave me, but the thing is that we need to be aware that God is always sitting on the front row. For every scene. Good AND bad. We should conduct ourselves according to the fact that the One universal Celebrity requires us to serve, worship, praise, and perform for HIM. And He deserves it. Look at all the stuff He did. All the things He made…

Kirk Whalum is not an idol of mine in the sense that he occupies God’s throne of glory. His skill and talent, as are ALL of ours, are a sign of what God can do. That is why God gets the praise for the made putts and three-pointers, the Grammys and the Oscars, the pictures and the sculptures.

At the end of service this morning, as we played the benediction music, I felt someone come up from behind the chair in which I was sitting and grab me, choke hold style, around my neck.

“You blessed me, man! You really blessed me by playing my song!” Imagine Jordan telling you that you played well… Imagine that you felt that he meant it… That made my WEEK! And I thanked GOD!

I wanted to ask him a thousand questions… about mouthpieces, and horns, and chords and solos, and sessions, and about helping me make records. But I didn’t get to. I don’t like to crowd celebrities when I see them. They have lives. People are always trying to get something from them, and I feel that if I am good enough to do this on a higher plane the time will come when God says so. If I really CAN play, he, or someone, will give me my shot.

So what I have is the memory of his gratitude. And my OWN gratitude to God for being so cool and merciful and Beautiful. And for inventing the saxophone and putting it in my hand.

October 8, 2007 Posted by | Art, Christianity, God, Heroes, Jazz, Kirk Whalum, Life, Music, Saxophone | 2 Comments

The Gospel According to Jay-Z

What is the difference between the Prosperity Gospel movement and hip-hop as it is currently portrayed?

Nothing!

In the version of hip-hop, or rap music presented by 50 Cent, Ludacris, Nelly, Li’l Bitty Kim, Paul Wall, the Cash Money crew, P. Diddy, or just about any of the “artists” of the last 15 years, from the Notorious BIG, and Mase to now, the genre is all about materialism. That is: what you have, how much money you got, and how many women you got.

In the current aberrant version of Christianity being thrust down our throats by such luminaries as, Benny Hinn, Creflo Dollar, Juanita Bynum, Kenneth Copeland, John Hagee, Joel Osteen, Rod Parsley, Paula White, and the whole TBN, Daystar, Word Network cabal, the focus is all on materialism. That is: what they have, how much money God is tryin’ to git to you, and how many women they got.      In their congregations. (‘Scuse my grammar)

In hip-hop, you are bombarded with images of expensive exoticars, champagne bottles spilling over with the nectar of the idol gods, multi-thousand-dollar watches, million-dollar rings and necklaces, fur-clad beauties, mansions, and lear jets.

In the Word of Faith milieu, you are bombarded with images and stories of (say it with me…) expensive exoticars (just look at Jamal Harrison-Bryant’s website), $25 vials of anointing oil, jewel-encrusted watches, flashy suits and milti-million-dollar edifices, fur-clad CO-pastors, ostentatious mansions, and privately owned lear jets.

Wowww… this is spookily similar!

In hip-hop, the focus is not on art, but on self. Self-promotion, self-indulgence, self-reliance, self-importance, and self-satisfaction.

In this prosperity trash, the focus is not on the Divine Artist of all creation, but on self. Self (I really could just “copy and paste” from here)-promotion, self-indulgence, self-reliance, self-importance, and self-satisfaction. Here, I will elaborate:

They promote themselves and what they have, and rather than spreading the ill-gotten wealth, they tell you to go get it from God.

They indulge themselves on the helpless sheep, from whom all their blessings flow. They indulge their own greed, and instruct you to do the same.

They are relianton their own “Faith” to get their personal will done. God, to them, is “illegal” (Myles Munroe, Hinn, Dollar, Copeland, Hagin, and on…) in this Earth realm without man’s assent. How blasphemous!!! HE relies on Creflo, et.al.

Of course they are self-important! All those titles! Apostle this, Prophetess that, Bishop the other… Call T.D. Jakes, mister Jakes, call Juanita, missus Bynum-Weeks, and you might catch a dirty look and a beatdown from their security cadre– I mean- “Armor Bearers.”! With Juanita, you’ll get TWO dirty looks!

Self-satisfaction? Their game is all about self-satisfaction! This enterprise is not about loving God, the beautiful and wonderful Creator of the universe. It is all about getting needs met, never about getting saved. It is about getting that job, that car, that MAN, that healing, that MONEY. As Creflo says, “You ain’t gone HAVE no peace unless you got some MONEY!” God is a by-product. God is a side effect. God is the Middle man. The only use for God, in their economy, is to facilitate the transaction!  God is just the bus that takes them to the bank! (sorry, Lord.)

Hip-hop seems to be inundated with rump shaking strippers, euphemistically re-termed “Video Vixens.” (I guess I know too much about this junk…)

The current Charismatic, Pentecostal, Prosperity movement (sadly, these all seem to transmogrify-to use a COGIC-style word- from one to the other) appears to advance the notion that if they can keep you dancin’ in the aisles shakin’ that “money-maker,” you won’t have time or energy to learn how to read and interpret Scripture, or to watch your wallet!

          note: David danced, for sure. But he knew his Word!

Gangster rap/hip-hop has prostituted and diluted the significance of the term “art” for personal gain.

Crooked preachers have pimped and distorted the image of the true Word of God for personal gain.

Hip-hop proponents tell us that if we criticize the genre, we are un-hip, and neglecting to notice that Elvis did the same thing and that they are only ghetto journalists. They label naysayers, “haters.” You might get shot.

Prosperity junkies tell us that we fail to realize that Jesus was rich, and wants us so. They warn that if we “touch God’s anointed,” we are judging, and in danger of hellfire. 

 This is amazing! Hip-hop and Prosperity preaching are conjoined twins! I can’t tell where one begins and the other ends!

 They were doing this in the earliest days of the Church; prostituting the Word for sordid gain. The current hip-hop brood has learned their trade admirably.

September 16, 2007 Posted by | Art, BET, Charlatans, Christianity, Creflo Dollar, False Doctrine, False Prophets, False Teachers, Frederick Price, Gangsta Rap, Hip-Hop, Humor, Joel Osteen, Juanita Bynum, Kenneth Copeland, Music, Paula White, Prophetess Juanita Bynum, Pulpit Pimps, Religion, TBN, Televangelists | 12 Comments

Jazz- Proof of God.

I was watching Phil Woods at the recommendation of a friend, and it struck me that something this beautiful could only have been created in us by Someone as sublime as a God. THE God. We didn’t rise from primordial slime to this!

I am glad someone was inspired to invent this instrument, and this vehicle.

I’m glad I play it, and wish I sounded this good! Yes, I’m baised, but I ain’t wrong!

Take six minutes or so, and be carried away.

Thanx, Lord.

August 31, 2007 Posted by | Art, Atheism, Christianity, Entertainment, evolution, God, Intelligent Design, Jazz, Music, Phil Woods | Leave a comment

TURN LOOSE THAT MICROPHONE!

TOO MANY PEOPLE HAVE A VOICE

Everybody has a forum today, and many of them don’t deserve it. And, yes, I DO taste the irony in my mouth… Everybody has a mic in his mouth and a camera in his face speaking his opinions and attitudes and predilections to the world, changing the idea of what is acceptable.
We — Blacks– are marketing a version of ourselves to the world that is distorted and degraded. We aren’t ALL about sangin and daincin and runnin and jumpin, which IS beautiful. We have surgeons and mechanics and pilots and programmers. But prison, gang life, and “skrip clubs”* are the prevailing images we present. We appear to be childishly materialistic and distressingly carnal.
We, like all cultures, have a well-rounded array of attributes to offer the world. Sadly, though, our entertainment-obsessed society refuses to be distracted long enough to notice anything except all the “Mantanning.” Just as the internet was immediately commandeered by porn-peddlers and identity thieves, hip-hop, once upbeat and promising, has been given over to the basest of human behavior in a relatively short time. As the beats got better, the content got darker. And I don’t want to hear that, “lt’s no different than ‘The Godfather’ ” argument! Marlon Brando never got into a fight with Robert DeNiro at the Academy Awards. John Wayne’s security never shot Kirk Douglas’ “manager” over some beef about who was the baddest fake gunslinger. Theirs was truly just MAKE BELIEVE!
Okay, you have a forum, now. Don’t use it to glorify the aspects of ghetto life that everyone generally wants to escape. Why is that not a fair request? Drug infestation, sexual irresponsibility, high crime, illiteracy…. What is good about any of this?

”If I wasn’t rappin’, I’ll probly be in jail.”

Nowadays, with the glorification of prison life I don’t see where that would be seen as a bad thing! Why not be in the midst of that which you glorify? Sagging pants, tattoos, untied shoes, ”down-low” brothahood, all these trends are said to come from jail. Prison chic. Whoda thunk it? What do you expect, though, with more brothers in jail or on probation than in college?
Let’s just get this straight: Ain’t NUTHIN cool about jail. If you wanna do something that proves how hard you are, join the Marines or go to Africa and kill a lion with a knife. Or marry the girl you impregnated, and stay there and raise freekin’ citizens! At least then, you wouldn’t have to worry about getting shanked in the throat or being raped or being forced to braid hair in a halter-top!
Another thing, everybody “on lock” ain’t a political doggone prisoner! Some people in jail actually did it! They ain’t all heroes or victims of racism (some are, to be sure). Let’s worry about rehabbing and returning to society with a positive story to tell. Prove to your people that you didn’t deserve to go, or that you regret what you did. Then you would be truly respected. As it is now, I don’t want my kids being role-modeled by some cat with a prison mentality.

“lf l wasn’t rappin’, l’ll probly be climbing through your window.”

And if l heard you, you’d probably be getting shot! Just kidding. No, l ain’t. So, your point is…? That if it weren’t for us giving you platinum chains, 22 inch rims, and a boat, you would just take what WE have? What makes that a cool thing to say? How does that make me wanna say, “Ooh, l gotta go get that ‘Gangstafied’ cd, cuz he so HORD! I gotta keep him paid so he don’t jack nobody.” So, you get it from us one way or another… l admire strength and power, too, but l want to know that a person has some artistic integrity before l go out and spend what l earned on him. People spend their food money on a lot of this trash, and all they get in return is a mind full of rotten potatoes and used baby diapers masquerading as art.
Kids who can barely speak (toddlers AND teens) quote this musical iodine like Scripture, talking about pimpin’ and stripping techniques and drug transactions and prison sentences.
But they can’t write a sentence!
The videos are so explicit, that I feel I need to put a trench coat on before I watch them. I’m not a Puritan, or a prude, but sex belongs in a context – a category – and a music video is not it. I don’t go to “skrip” clubs, or solicit prostitutes, or violate my marriage vows. Not because I’m so good and pure, but because I’m tethered to a Standard way higher than my own ability keep from to slipping and falling prey to my weaknesses. Stop pouring grease on a wet floor!

”If I wasn’t rappin’, I’ll probly still be sellin’ drugs. Thass how I paid f’ my firss album.”

Well. That’s cool to know. Selling drugs. At least you’re not perpetuating any STEREOTYPES and making it hard for me to, say, drive my nice car through a White neighborhood! Matter of fact, l can’t even BUY the car l like because that’s the one the ‘dope boys’ drive. What you do now is no different than selling drugs, anyway. The wanton, glorified violence and irresponsible sexuality you peddle is probably more insidious. And it is just as addictive and generally devoid of hope and purpose.
The “Not My Problem” rationale you employ so lamely is the same as the dealer’s:
“Iss the parent’s responsibility.” lt’s so obvious you heard somebody else say that.
“If you got a prahlem wit it, turn the channel.” To what? it’s everywhere! I can’t even watch a sitcom without hearing cursing! And every month, a new word gets admitted. Pretty soon, the only reason to watch pay TV will be to see snuff films and executions. Am I to be expected to walk through life blindfolded to keep from being offended? Is it now MY responsibility to sidestep your un-scooped poop?
“If l wasn’t givin’ it to ’em, SOMEbody would.”
But, why does it have to be YOU?
Well, take your ample share of the responsibility and wear it proudly. Wear proudly the fact that in so short a time, we have gone from martyrs in a righteous cause to the office joke. From glowing accomplishments to debauchery, from jazz to sequenced ignorance, from scatting to Ebonics. Be proud that in a community on the precipice of collapse, where practically NO one has a father, where children learn nothing in the way of discipline and order, where all they learn from the outside world is of the excess and permissiveness of the majority, where their souls are hemorrhaging at the brink of extinction, be proud that rather than help stop the bleeding, you instead rummage through their pockets taking what little hope they have left. The lessons they learn, YOU teach them, for you are all they hear. Your foul lyrics are the words to their too short life stories. “Selfish” is way too soft a word for what you do to your own people, your FAMILY, in a sense. And don’t bother thanking God for your “Shake it Like it’s Hot Up in Here” award, unless you mean to thank Him for not smiting you for producing so much gabbage! Don’t say you love Jesus for your material blessings, because HE said that,”What you do to the least of these, you do to ME.” Marinate on THAT!
And now ain’t the time to talk about what the White Man did. The White Man didn’t cause the over 70% out of wedlock birth rate or the outrageous murder rate. The White man didn’t tell you to drop out, or to not read a BOOK! He didn’t force the production of gangsta rap or the glorification of thug life. Nope, the Blame the White Man peg, sometimes justified, won’t fit in THIS hole. We did this one to ourselves. Deal with it. Change it. And GIVE that durn microphone to somebody who has something to SAY!

*Strip Clubs

July 2, 2007 Posted by | Art, Celebrity, Fame, Gangsta Rap, Hip-Hop, Music, Personal Responsibility, Race | 3 Comments

FOR THE RECORD

Let me say this For The Record: I completely disagree with mistreatment of anyone based on a belief or way of living. If my opinion differs with yours on a subject, don’t falsely label me as a basher, or a hater, or a ‘phobe. My beliefs prohibit me from any prejudice or hatred or such. My beliefs, however, absolutely REQUIRE me to not fall in line with behaviors antithetical to those beliefs, and if something you read here offends you, understand that my words do not stem from hatred and are not designed to communicate such. I am allowed to agree or disagree with whatever I choose to, and to express said opinion. At times, maybe at all times, it will appear as though I am pointing my finger and lecturing. The way I feel is that one can only be a passive passenger for so long, and this vehicle is to the left of the double yellow line and headed for a semi. Urgency requires that I speak up. If someone told me the things I will tell you (and someone has), I would listen. So, please listen. That being said, those inclined to contort the context of these opinions for whatever reason are requested to REFER TO THIS ENTRY before doing so.
I Believe;

The Bible is inerrant AND infallible. Read those words CLOSELY! I did NOT say there are not bad translations.

Homosexuality is STILL a sin, but not the unforgivable sin. I neither hate nor fear you. But l won’t lie to you.

Sex outside of marriage is wrong.

Spanking (whuppin’) kids is not, in itself, abuse. Neither is saying ‘no’.

“Timeout” is a joke.

Abortion is the killing of a baby, and not about the woman, but the baby. It is a human rights issue, not a woman’s rights issue.

I didn’t evolve from a single-celled organism.

God made me Black, so I love it, just as much as the Dutch or the Italians love their heritage and culture. No sin in that.

Our ice is just as cold as White folks’ ice.

Even though there are Whites in this country who want nothing more than our destruction, we Black folk are often our worst enemy. No one gets a free pass.

Christianity is the Christians FIRST loyalty, therefore mine.

Racism and racial prejudice are wrong, and still exist.

I think our history is largely responsible for the plight of the Black poor, BUT we have no right to marinate in that reality and be socially irresponsible on so many distressing levels.

The ”Christian Right” don’t do much, if anything, to heal racial wounds.
Neither do ”Black Leaders.”

Homosexuality and Blackness are not equal. Race is not a way of behaving. It can AT LEAST be argued that homosexuality is a way of thinking, feeling, or acting. The act is a sin. And I don’t hate you in saying this, so don’t shout at me.

Democrats AND Republicans make me equally sick. Really.

Just as all photography isn’t pornography, all hip-hop isn’t trash. But probably most of it is now. Rap, in and of itself, is no more insidious than singing. What is being done with it? Does a thing get to be art just because someone calls it art? Is my son’s dirty diaper art when I frame it? The beats are funky, though. So don’t kill me…
Messengers should not be shot. Or stabbed, or kicked, or shunned. Those who would do so will be exposed as simply trying to suppress dissenting opinion through intimidation. I love you all. MaxDaddy

June 27, 2007 Posted by | Abortion, Art, Christianity, evolution, FOR OPENERS, Hip-Hop, Homosexuality, Immorality, Marriage, Morality, Music, Parenting, Politics, Race, Racism, Religion, Respect, Sexuality, Spanking, The Bible | 1 Comment