Repost: George Kush

I'm back with another one of my favorite posts. This one came soon after President Obama officially took office. I hope you like(d) it, too.
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Everyone, including myself, is so caught up in Gobama Rama that we are forgetting about the real winner in this whole election process.

Yea, I said it, Dubya is the luckiest man in America.  Don't believe me?

For one, he is no longer relegated to his $250,000 per year allowance.  He can go back to making his millions doing... whatever the funk it is that he does in the state of Texas.

That is not the most important part.  If this Bush dynasty has taught us anything, it is that money isn't everything.  So follow along as I tell you the top three reasons why George W. Bush is the most relieved person in the US of A.

3. I am 113% positive that when George Bush woke up on January 20th, 2009 the first thing out of his mouth was...

He can now go back to living his frat boy lifestyle.  No longer will he wake up to cameras in his face and reporters documenting what he ingests.  I'm sure he had a keg waiting for him as soon as he returned home.  Standing right next to that keg were two large men in dark suits and black glasses prepared to hold his legs above his head while Georgie sets records on the keg stand.

Once they let him down and has Laura wipes his face off, he will undoubtedly walk into his living room where a bunch of college buddies will have that white girl spread out over the table waiting for him.  No, I'm not talking about a prostitute, though I'm sure she's tied up somewhere in the house waiting for them to start playing "Hide-and-go-get-it."  I'm talking about THAT WHITE GIRL.  You know... THAT WHITE GIRL.  I mean come on... why do you think he pardoned John Forte?

2. Lil Bush can now make all of the racial slurs he wants.  No longer does he have to manifest his hatred for black people by not sending them aid for five days.  He doesn't have to show disdain for Arabs for taking away from his oil business by bombing innocent civilians and turning oil farms into live conflagrations.  He doesn't even have to build walls around America to keep Mexicans out anymore.  GWB can now go back to using all of the no-no words that he wants because there is no media to broadcast his life.

1. Mostly, Dubs can now go back to his normal sex life.  They can get back to the foreplay that kept their love life strong.  You know... how he gazes lasciviously at the missus as he pops his erectile dysfunction pill.

She knows exactly what was going on so she slowly eases her hand south of the border and starts fingering the bottle of lubricant until it spews enough to do the job.

Once the car is nice and warmed up Mr. Walker will employ his shock and awe tactics.  When she leans to the side to take her glasses off and place them on the nightstand George quickly runs up in the battle zone, deploy millions of his little soldiers into a barren land, pulls out, rolls over, and proudly proclaims...

Mission Accomplished!

Good readers of Ca(n)non, when you are reflecting on how happy you are that Barack Obama is now the president, just remember, you are not as happy as the former POTUS.

PS. Thank you, Remy Spice, for inspiring this post.

Have Fun.

13.

Repost: Dear Black People

Once, again, I will be ending this blog as we know it and starting it up so fresh and so clean clean (I might even move it to wordpress). I have to start a blog that will get me where I want to go and so having a Ca(n)non From Left Field will no longer do it.

I don't know what I will call it, but my knew mantra is "Debo the Industry," so maybe it'll have something to do with that.

Anyway, here is the follow up to, Dear White People. Hopefully My white friends don't hate me too much.

Dear Black People,

GO HOME!

When the club lets out, the bar has last call or the diner kicks you out...go home. There is no need to sit in the parking lot, blasting your music trying to keep the party going. Rick Ross gets a fresh line-up and a fresh outfit so he can have the parking lot on smash, but he's the biggest boss that we've seen thus far.

You, on the other hand, are just trying to look as fly as you can trying to tempt the fillies exiting the club. So you run to your car, that you're too inebriated to operate, and open the doors to blast the same songs that were just playing in the club.

You make sure your rims are freshly wiped off and all of your boys are crowded around whosever car is the most ballinest of the group. If I were you, I would make sure my house or apartment is as ballin' as my car. Isn't that where you want these young women to end up?

What if your Chrysler 300 on 16 inch rims, with the Chrysler sign taken off, actually attracts a PYT, but when you get to your house you have to tell her to make sure she jiggles the handle when she's done in the bathroom, you're stepping over your baby's toys to get the living room only to turn on the DVD on your Playstation? I think she'll notice pretty quickly that you're not as ballin' as your ride portrays.

Ladies, you're not exempt. You have to go home, too.

Why do you always wait outside for that one girl that you think was eying your man all night? You're not going to hit her. You're just going to talk a lot of smack, and if you do make an attempt to hit her, it's going to be broken up by the guys that you are with.

This will inevitably spark beef between the guys you're with and the quarrel will be upgraded to a brawl. Knives may be pulled and guns may be drawn. In the event guns are drawn the situations is likely to end like this:

(Volume check for you workers... especially if you're not Black)

If you think that parking lot pimping doesn't actually happen then you've never heard of Kenton Keith (don't worry, I haven't either, nor has the officer that arrested him).

Keith is a third string running back on the Indianapolis Colts. He was doing his parking lot pimpin' and the police came through to clear it out. Coming from the Canadian Football League to the NFL must have gotten to his head because he felt like he was above the law. He refused to follow orders of the police officers and remained in the parking lot. Once the police slapped those cuffs him he began to shout, "I'm a Colts player! I'm a Colts player!"

Word of advice to Mr. Keith: if you must tell someone who you are they either (a) don't know who you are, (2) don't care who you are or (d) know who you are and want to be the guy that arrested you (yes, I realize the incongruence of my listing, but it's from Home Alone).

My people, all of this can be avoided if you do your work in the club. Lock down your lucky lady while you're still inside, that way you can get in your car and drive home before all of this happens. If you want to continue the party that bad, make sure your pad is up to snuff and bring some people back. That way it doesn't take me 10 minutes to get out of the parking lot. Thank you.

Have Fun.

13

Repost: Dear White People

I feel like the current state of my blog has run it's course. That means Ca(n)non From Left Field will be going through a bit of a transformation... a "rebirth," as Lil Wayne would call it. The only difference is that my rebirth will actually happen.

But, until then, I will repost some of my old favorites.

Dear White People



When confronted by a person of color, the handshake is NOT THAT SERIOUS.

All too often I am a part of, or witness to, awkward handshakes between a white man and a person of color.  It seems like the white guy feels that this is his opportunity to prove to the black guy (and also to himself) that he is still cool. The white guy thinks back to every handshake he's seen on the movies and TV and tries to combine them into this one fateful shake.

There are many common mistakes that white males make when trying to partake in a handshake with someone "urban" in nature.  From the jump, they throw their hands all the way out to the side (a la Will and Jazz end up after slapping five on the Fresh Prince). When making the approach on the handshake, white guys like to go straight from the "urban" approach to the business handshake. This is what causes the awkwardness. You just showed that you were going to try to attempt a "hip" handshake which made the "urban" fellow start his handshake and then you switch halfway and leave the other guy stranded.  This leaves the handshake in limbo.

Inevitably, the white guy feels the need to correct this mistake, but at this point it is too late. That doesn't stop the white guy from reverting back to the part of the handshake where the thumbs are clasped.  Simultaneously, the other guy feels underclassed because the white guy did the professional handshake, so he moves from handshake limbo to the professional shake, whilst the white guy tries to make his shake more hip, leaving the handshake in limbo once more.

Cunning white guys have adapted. They slide immediately from the palm slap to the finger clasp. This handshake ALWAYS catches the black guy off guard, but it's quick enough for the black guy to adapt and all is well.

I don't have the time to educate everyone about handshakes. Just know that IT'S NOT THAT SERIOUS.  If you wow a black guy with your handshake prowess you've only met the standard. So you might as well just stick to the regular handshake and not embarrass yourself.

Don't worry, white folk,  Dear Black People is coming tomorrow.

Have Fun.

13.

"Real Recognize Real, Granddad..."

"...And right now you're looking real unfamiliar." -Riley of the Boondocks

I was talking to a nice young lady at the bar last night and she told me that she was pursuing a career in acting. She was talking about how many productions she had been in and things that she is about to get into. She told me that she was one of the best actresses in her school even though she does not have as much formal training as the experienced students.

So I asked her, "How do I know I can believe a word you're saying? What if you're just acting like you want to talk to me. I could just be some sort of practice for you."

I, honestly, wasn't worried about that. I just wanted to throw her for a loop, and that's exactly what happened.

She didn't know what to say to that and she continually tried to convince me that she was genuine even after my repeated attempts at telling her I wasn't serious.

This reminded me of my issue with the present state of hip hop. It can be typified in the new video for the remix of Jamie Foxx's "Digital Girl."

Here we see a comedian turned actor turned R&B singer (Foxx) featuring a child actor turned rapper who dabbles in singing (Aubrey Drake Green).

Who, exactly, am I supposed to think that I'm looking at? Acting is so rampant in hip hop that I don't now what to believe anymore.

The new story line is the beef between Joe Budden and Raekwon. Let me quickly recap for those that aren't aware:

- Vibe Magazine published a bracket of best rappers and made it into a tournament.

- Joe Budden was upset at his ranking and said he thinks he should be above Method Man

- Mista Meff took exception to those words and took shots at Budden.

- The beef was squashed

- Raekwon, unaware of the truce, brought 6 goons to Budden's room backstage and ruffed him up in support of his Wu-Tang brethren.

Now that we are all up to date, let's look at this through my conspiracy theorist eyes:

Method Man said he wasn't going to respond to JB's words, but on his radio tour promoting his album "Blackout 2" he mentioned Budden every chance he got. Beef is a great way to sell records (just ask Nas).

Things got squashed, but then Raekwon has an album "Only Built for Cuban Links 2" so he re-opens those can of worms with JB. "COINCEDENTLY" the next day Rae comes out with a video that makes you think he's responding to the allegations but it's really an advertisement for his album.

At the same time, Joe Budden has the Slaughterhouse album coming out, so why not play along with all of this and milk the "controversy" for what it's worth? I mean come on, Joey was doing a live stream, and then 6 brollic dudes roll up on him and then camera turns off. 10 minutes later he's in front of the camera with an ice pack and no visible marks of a bruise.

I can't speak for anyone else, but if I were in a room and was outnumbered 6 to 2, I would keep the camera rolling. Those viewers are witnesses. But if you're staging a fight just to make people think you got jumped and sell some more records over a beef, you might stop recording so you can get the story straight.

What about music videos? Those things have been horribly fake for years.

Bentley's and mansions have been rented just to give off the appearance that they are balling. Labels send their artists to the most happening clubs and buy out the bar for them to make fans feel like their favorite rappers really do pop bottles.

This new youtube/reality tv age is even worse, because now when people see an artist's video on youtube they assume that what they are seeing is reality. Just because it's not filmed with a professional camera does not mean it's not fake.

Now, I'm not saying that everything you see in hip hop is fake and no one is to be trusted. Just don't put all of your faith in an artist just because you like the music.

If you like the music, then do just that... like the music. Don't try get any idea of what they are in real life, because if you don't hang out with them on a regular basis, I don't care how often they tweet or ustream, you don't know a darn thing about them.

Whatcha think, folks? Am I wrong? Am I the second coming of Mel Gibson's "Conspiracy Theory" (I've got many more theories that I might share with you one day)? Do you think there is really bad blood between Wu and Joe? Which hip hop artists do you think is the closest, in real life, to what they portray on a record? Hollatme, people.

Have Fun.

13.

Is Something Missing?

Recently I have found myself in a position that you often read about in magazines and see in movies:

I feel like I am lonely even though I have so many people around me.

I can hang out with Sigel, I can have some drinks at a bar with friends, I can chill at Pops' place with the boys, but when my head hits the pillow I still feel like it's me against the world.

But I think my solitude is slightly different than others'. I don't feel like I'm faking my way through life, painting a fake smile on my grill to make people think that everything is ok when in actuality I'm dying on the inside (though it is the subject of one of my favorite songs).

My problem is that I actually AM happy.

I have a family that is not shy about showing their love. I have some of the best friends anyone could ask for and they are always willing to hang out (when they aren't doing big things with their lives, of course). I've got a pseudo-wife and kid with Sigel and her younger sister (whom I need a nickname for).

Therein (I think) lies the problem. There aren't any gaping holes in my life which makes me not actively seek any sort of fix.

I think what my life is missing is a girlfriend (with upward mobility), but everything that a girlfriend does its taken care of by the people around me (sexual matters are never discussed on this blog and this will be no different).

If I want to wine and dine a lady, LaLa and I have what we call "Bourgie Fridays." We find a nice spot with good wine and good food, polish those off and end the night with some good conversation.

If I want to take a woman on a date to the movies I have Sigel. She is almost addicted to seeing films so I'm always seeing movies that I don't really care for, the true role of a bf, right?

If I just want to wyle out and have a good time, RiRi is just a phone call away. She just discovered that she's 25 and is down to act like it.

So that leaves me here... in a pizza shop... by myself. By the way... does this remind anyone else of Frank of Donnie Darko?

If I am so content, why do I also feel like something is missing? Am I conditioned to feel like I need a girlfriend? Do I really want a girlfriend? Has anyone been in a similar situation?

This post was inspired by KarishC.

Sound off, Ca(n)nonites.

Have Fun.

13.

Vick Continues to Fly

Michael Vick just signed a contract with the National Football League. He will be playing for the Philadelphia Eagles. Yes... that just happened.

So now what?

Let him play football! That's what.

The man already served his debt to society the system, and now he has been allowed back into the real world as well as the NFL. That's all that matters.

Get off of your soapbox with your "Dog fighting is a crime!" crap. If you really cared that much, it wouldn't take Vick to elicit these feelings in you. You wouldn't have waited until the man signed a contract to start stating your outrage.

A friend of mine on Facebook said:

DOG FIGHTING IS THE WORST THING A HUMAN BEING CAN POSSIBLY DO AND ANYONE WHO DOES IT SHOULD BE IMMEDIATELY SHOT AND FED TO RAVENOUS WOLVES. ZOMG I'M BOYCOTTING THE EAGLES FOR SIGNING MICHAEL VICK.

(I just found out that he was being facetious and his opinion is similar to mine in this case, but I will continue to argue against it because there are lots of people that actually feel like this.)

Dog fighting is the worst thing a human being can possibly do? Is that way Ben Roethlisberger is getting the free pass? Vick's crime is worse than what Donte Stallworth did?

If dog fighting is the most heinous act, that must be why a convicted rapist is now getting a full ride at Tennesse. What he did isn't as bad as FUNDING a dog fighting ring.

Buuullshit. Bullshiteis.

What about people that hunt deer? Should Brett Favre and Jared Allen be sent to jail after the cap a deer in the head? Do deer have the same rights as dogs, thus the same rights as humans? Or do you only care about dogs because they are a domesticated animal? What about horse racers? I know this has all been discussed before, but if people want to conjure up hatred for a person, I will conjure up some defense for him.

Allow me to share a bit of my bias.

When I was younger, my cousin raised dogs to fight. I helped train the dogs to be mean, I taught them how to fight, I smacked the pitbulls around until they got angry enough to snap at me, and then I deprived them of food until they got desperate enough to fight another dog for a meal.

But even that stuff didn't happen, I would understand that Vick did his time, got his money taken away from him and now he should be allowed to earn a living again.

He will be playing in the toughest city to earn respect. That should be a bit of poetic justice for you haters out there. You know he's not going to just slide right in to Philly and be handed that Brotherly Love that everyone else gets.

Let him take the lumps and earn his stripes wings. He has been though enough already.

Please don't make me defend Michael Vick like the "Leave Brittany Alone!" Kid.

Have Fun.

13.

My Little Hater

My Little Hater has been getting the best of me for the past 48 days. For the last 7 days I have been conspiring against him and the last 3 have involved active efforts to overcome his wicked ways. As you can tell, by the lack of posts, they have not been successful.

Since I could not conjure up a diabolical scheme to foil his hatred, I have taken the advice of a few people:

My cousin @TajReed told me to throw on some inspiring music, get comfortable and just let it flow. So here I am, listening to Sigor Ros' "Ageatis Byrjun" album, in my drawers, outside on the balcony (being deprived of the meteor shower due to overcast night skies).

And in the previous video, Jay Smooth said to describe my little hater. So that's what I'll do.  It probably won't be as cool as his...

...but here I go...

My little hater is everything that I want to be.

He's cool, hansom, funny, a smooth talker, successful in a job that he loves and has confidence oozing out of his hating-ass pores. That's probably why I always listen to him when he tells me that no one wants to read what I'm writing.

My little hater has the life that I want to live: he makes his living off of his words. Whether writing columns, doing sports reporting or in broadcast television, my little hater's words have weight.

So I always believe him when he spits the vitriol of a conservative at a Town Hall meeting in my ears as I try to construct creative blog entries (I don't know if it's the Sigor Ros drowning him out right now, but I don't really hear him at this moment).

I've typed up countless entries, only to scrap them faster than Lil Wayne's rock album because he chimes in with his opinion on how second rate and pointless my efforts were (but that worked for the script of Transformers 2, right?!).

As I traipse the blogosphere and read print publications I often come across things that make me think, "I don't understand why this person is famous and I'm not. I am better/funnier/more creative/more interesting than this person. But when it comes time to put pen to paper finger to keyboard, here he comes with his blather about how even if I am better than these other people, they have an audience which automatically makes their work more relevant than mine.

Even when I'm in a blogging grove my little hater gets to jabber-jawing when I actually publish a post and it is met with minimal responses.

Not everyone comments on the blog, some people hit me up online, or even on Facebook, but that's when he gets in my ear and says, "See, no one really gives a damn about what you have to say" (I guess I know what it's like to be Oprah's man).

My little hater knows how much I would like to muster up something that resembles a small community. If not that, then I would like to have people share their thoughts on... well.. my thoughts. So he harps on the lack of comments just to hit me where it hurts (jerk).

But I try not to let that hold me back too much.

I get the drive to blog when I see little things like my blog named on Remy Spice's list of favorites, when a friend references something I blogged about in the past or when a person with a larger following talks about something that I've touched on in the past (that makes me feel like I'm five steps ahead of the game, like QN5 Music).

I use these things as weapons in the war against the hansom little devil. Hopefully these words will deliver the final blow in this current skirmish and I can get back in the habit of providing a steady stream of thoughts for the loyal Ca(n)nonites.

Pops always says that if you can do something for 21 straight days then it will become routine, so that's exactly what I will (try to) do.

Over the next three weeks it will be my goal to hit you up with something at least once a day. If you want to help, hit me with things you would like to see me talk about. It would be greatly appreciated.

Since it's a well known fact that Forrest Gump said that sh!t happens... sometimes, if I miss a day I will make up for it by making multiple entries in the following days.

There you have it. That's how I plan on beating my little hater.

What does your little hater look like? How do you beat it? Was this blog entry so wack that I should continue to not pollute the interwebs with my mindspam (a la Remy Spice)? Hollatme, folks.

Have Fun.

13.