Get yourselves a drink, and get comfy. This is gonna be a long one. Don't worry, I'll wait.....

OK. Last night, on my way to work, I almost got into an accident. I was turning onto Rt 896 when a car came from the far left lane and almost into the merging lane that I was in. I whipped the wheel back to avoid the collision and hit the curb on the right, busting my right front tire.

I don't know how many of you have ever been in a similar situation, but this is my second. The first was on a trip back to State college from Philly. A deer stepped out into the road and I just missed hitting him by a few feet. In both cases, time damn near stopped. With the deer, I saw what would happen if I hit it. At least one of the passengers in the car with me would have been killed. In the nanosecond that had to avoid him, I decided I wasnt' going to let that happen and got around him.

It was the same way last night. I knew I'd be dead or at least FUCKED UP if that SUV hit me. I wasn't ready for to say goodbye to my babies. I hadn't told my wife that I loved her nor heard it from her in days and I wasn't going out on such a note. So again, in the nanosecond that I had, I decided I wasn't going out like that and swerved to avoid him and hit the curb.

Here's where it gets funny. I called my roadside assistance and waited. A genuine gentleman named Ian stopped to see if he could help me and subsequently got stuck on the side of the road. So we both waited. My insurance people called to tell me that my roadside assist guy's vehicle broke down, so they had to call someone else. So we waited some more. I started to rain. I got soaked getting my spare out. While I waited with my flashers on and enigne off (to save gas) my battery died. Eventually, roadside guy 2 showed up, got Ian free and on his way, changed my tire and jumped my battery. I got to work 2 hours late. Fortunately work was real peace or there'd be even more to this fucked up night.

I had lots of time on the side of the road to reflect on my current state in life. Anyone who really knows me, knows that I'm not in the best of places right now. I'm full-time-jobless, broke and out of school. I had an opportunity that I didn't take full advantage of and now here I am. I put responsibility for that on me, always have but....

Which brings me to Donovan McNabb. I rep for that cat and I always will for a copule of reasons. Most importantly, I see similarities between our personalities. He keeps his head up, and tries to maintain regardless of the hate against him. I puts the blame on his shoulders and even though in his case, there's plenty to go around, he never throws anybody under the bus. It's important that he stay on the same page with the cats he's trying to win with.

I don't have that responsibility. There have been plenty of other people and factors involved with the shafts I've gotten. BUT, as I've always said, I am ultimately in charge of my own destiny and my spot in the universe.

There's more to this in my head and maybe it will come out later. Who knows? Keep your eyes and ears open and keep your heads up. Peace.

The Voice 

I had to write something since I have not hit this page in a while. My partner's work adventures are quite entertaining. We are still a unit believe it or not even though we haven't been spotted together in public for a few months now. The drunkards have been attacking the other half of the Flight Brothers for years.  One night while sweeping the bar area of the Nittany Lion Inn I was approached by a drunken young lady who proceeded to punch me  in my back. Now being hit from behind is scary but the comment she made was even scarier. "You're not going to hit me back are ya". Honestly I did want to put here through a table, but the WWE probably wouldn't have paid my court fees so I stayed calm.These are the types of comments I get from people who feel the need to take out their frustrations with the problems of life. Another drunk female ( or just plain stupid ) attacked my maritial status because she did not believe I was black man with no children. She said and I quote" How are you 26 years old and  don't have no kids".Now that I'll be 31 in a few weeks with no kids I find the comment even funnier. I believe it's just the nature of the Flight Brother's that these things happen. I always tell R-Son for me it dates back to the day when I was coming home from the hospital and I was left in the backseat of my grandfather's car and it was conveniently towed at Lincoln Drive and Mcallum on that fateful day in 1977. There are just some things that can't be made up. So to all the drunk people of America the FB's love you too.Look for a new FB's song in the future with a possible album to follow in 2009 or 2010(For Real Though)
                                 

I know you are all waiting with baited breath for the Drunken MeatHead jawns primer that I promised, but recent events have put that on the backburner. One thing I forgot to mention about DMH is their unbearable sense of privilege. its amazing how much these guys feel like they are totally justified in all of their behavior, regardless of how it affects the people around them. They jump up and down, spilling drinks on people, bumping into people, grope women and then try to get really pissy if you tell them about themselves. "We're just having fun", they proclaim. "Who did I offend?", they have the nerve to ask. Well fellas sometimes your "fun" is offensive to the wrong people, which leads us to.....

Last night, a fucking Tuesday night, and the DMH were out in force. Our usual Tuesday night act draws lots of women (many of them are DMHJs, I won't lie). Well last night he was replaced by a good-looking, popular female singer who usually draws good crowd herself. So you had a bunch of DMHs, expecting to find lots of DMHJs (who did eventually show up) and they stood all night getting hammered in front of an attractive rockstar jawn that none of them could have. It was a perfect DMH storm.

The main group of ten or so were nice and liquored up before the show started. I had to tell one guy that he couldn't pick other people up and bounce them around. he looked at me like I told him he wasn't allowed to talk anymore. "we can't pick people up? What the fuck?!" Again, a ridiculous sense of privilege. Me and my partner took opposite sides of the stage when the show finally started to watch the madness unfold. And they sang loudly and badly, swinging their drinks in the air, groups of 4 or 5 dudes singing love songs to each other (No homo, of course. I'll get to that dumb shit another time), bumping people, humping jawns (some they knew, others they didn't) and generally made asses of themselves. We gave a little leeway here and there, warnings and the like so cats could still enjoy themselves. But even then, while me and my team were being extarordinarily patience, there was still the "What the fuck, man?" and "we're just having fun, dude. You chill out!". Ok, cool first set ends, without to much beef.

Band takes a break, soundguy plays some classic funk tracks (hits like Brick House, Dazz, etc.). Play that Funky Music Whiteboy comes on and the place goes nuts. Two guys start a little dance circle, doing bad robots, popping, and psuedo Crip Walks. Eventually they start chanting for the band and round 2 sets to begin.

Now I'm standing in the crowd, watching my group of DMH, again telling them to chill now and again. Hands go up, a drink spills, my partner IDs the guy who spilled it and we toss him. He denies all the way out the door, but at this point I could care less. This sets off his boys. One guy gets on stage and dives into the crowd. We catch him and carry him out. The guy who I had already told not to pick anybody else up does just that, so I throw him  out. At this point his boys are all really drunk and bitchy and strapping on their beer muscles. the unfortunate part about beer muscles is that they don't mean shit against real muscle.

An ex-doorman was in the spot last night, big beefy dude with arms like tree trunks (henceforth, StrongGuy). At some point, one of the DMH had words with this dude. The DMH had a chance to walk away, he really did. But he had to call StrongGuy a "fucking tough guy". StrongGuy gave him a chance when he asked the DMH what he said. DMH could have walked away, but his beer muscles wouldn't let him, so he repeated his "fucking tough guy" comment and was rewarded for his honesty with a punch in the mouth. StrongGuy caught square in the teeth with the first punch. Yours truly tried to stop the second punch but StrongGuy's arm took me with it into the DMH's face. The rest of the DMH crew tried to stop StrongGuy but it wasn't happening. In the midst of the scrum, I lost my glasses (found them quick but they were missing a lens), took a galncing blow to the forehead (thanks to my mom for my big forehead, cuz it could have been worse), and got my beautiful brown fedora knocked off. As I'm recovering my shit, I get punched (rather feebly I might add) in the side by a guy whoo immediately denies doing what I had just watched him do. "What, why are throwing me out!? I didn't do shit! I was just trying to help my boy!". He gets tossed. in the midst of tossing all of these fools, PickUpPeople Guy sneaks back in. I tell him to get  the fuck out, again, and he takes offense to my cursing at him because "Dude, i'm a Chrsitian, I don't appreciate you cursing, why are you cursing at me?!" Really!? Whatever clown, get the fuck out!

He's still roaming around outside when I come back downstairs and i tell him to get off my deck, to which he replies "Dude, it's not your deck, you're just some black guy who works here!" I have to interject here, that with out the works of the great George Lucas, the dude would have got punched in his teeth. However, I was able to channel my inner Yoda, stay as Jedi as possible and not break his jaw.

The night finally ends, and DMH and DMHJ take their time dragging their sloppy asses out of the joint, hanging around outside, dudes all trying to find some panties to get into. Again, all of this went down of a fucking TUESDAY night. I personally have to thank M.O.P. for amping me up enough to deal with these cats and Al Green for keeping me mellow enough not to get out of hand with these motherfuckers.

next time you go out, tip your waitresses, your bartenders, and give the doormen at least a little nod. We're just trying to keep shit peaceful. More later...

The Voice

Well it's that time of year again. A new semester has begun here at UD an with it comes the return of everyone's favorite guys, the drunken meatheads. Now we all no that in most places there are drunken meatheads (hence forth known as DMH) all the time, but in college towns like this one there exists an overabundance. Not all of them are college students, but nonetheless they are here and invariably they wind up out in your favorite bar or the spot that you work.

For the most part, they are all convinced of their ability to pull every woman in the joint because they've got SOOO much game. The fact that they are hammered, slobbering over jawns and have been pushed away and even mushed by some dames in the spot means nothing. They were just stuck-up bitches. The next one is definitely leaving with them.

DMH don't need much to get their hackles up and start flexing their beer muscles. "What are you looking at pussy!?" Not you stupid, you just happen to be in the direction my eyes are facing, you're not that important. "Watch where you're going dick, you bumped my beer!" Guess what dummy, there's hundreds of people in this confined space, some of us are going to make contact. It's not that serious.

Most interestingly, DMH, for as much shit as they talk, are usually very reluctant to fight. I just watched 2 DMH stare at each other for over a half an hour discussing who was going to throw the first punch and what they were going to do to each other. One guy's boys had to convince him that he had to fuck the other dude up "cuz now he's talkin shit!". They both had numerous opportunities to squash some meaningless beef and walk away, but everybody involved was so busy trying to show who had the biggest balls.

Eventually one DMH hit the other, they locked up, fell to the ground and half-fought/half-humped for 5 minutes, got up, shook hands, hugged it out and ran away when the cops came. A more pointless exchange has never occured in the history of the world!

The point I'm trying to make is this, to all bar-fighting tough guys, you aren't nearly as tough as you think. Overuse of the word "gangster" has got too many cats who most certainly not gangster (or gangsta, if you prefer) thinking that they are. If you were you'd just knock the other dude out as soon as he stepped to you. Or you'd skip all the words when you think you've been slighted in some way and handle your business. Not that either of these is a good thing.

 Most of the shit cats fight over is some dumb shit anyway. If you're not defending yourself or someone you care about from immediate danger, what are you really going to gain from a drunken bar fight? 

If you're reading this and don't know anyone or have never seen anyone that this applies to, either you need to get out more (because this is not just a UD thing or a PSU thing or a Philly thing, this shit crosses boundaries) or you might be a DMH yourself. If so, let me know. I'm working on a workshop to help people reduce their DMH tendencies. There is hope. 

Coming soon, DMHJ (Drunken meathead Jawns)....

Peace,

The Voice 

So your man has a new job. I'm working the door a local bar (don't want to blow  them up like that, if you're where I am you'll know when you seee me there). It's much different than where I was a year ago, but overall I might just be happier. That said, peace to my people at UD and especially in the Office of Judicial Affairs.

This new job has me thinking alot about of couple of things. I need your help on this one people, cause there's some shit i just don't get:

1.INTOXICATION: Let me preface this by saying that I have never been drunk or high. The closest I ever came was when I had so teeth pulled and I woke up still groggy from the anesthesia. I was not digging it at all! I never understood how purposely distorting your senses and judgement was a good thing. Dudes get all dumb and want to strap on ther beer muscles and fight cats over the pettiest shit and jawns get even worse, flopping around and often finding themselves in dangerous situations that they would normally avoid while sober. What's the appeal? I need to know

2.COVER BANDS: You go out and pay good money to hear cats play music that you probably either have at home or wouldn't listen to if you were in any other situation. Bands make a living travelling around playing other peoples hits!? You couldn't do that as a HipHop artist. Yeah, we'll spit over classic beats, maybe even do some dope kind of homage to a classic track. (think,Snoop's Childrens' Story or the Roots' BOOM!) But can you imagine dudes on stage just spitting a bunch of other MC's lyrics for a whole show and getting paid for it? I can't see it. Maybe there's a niche market not being tapped, who knows? It blows my mind.

That's all for now. Stay tuned for continued updates of the dumb shit that cats do at bars that keeps me amused. Y'all be cool. Peace.

The Voice

Done with UD. Peace to my ex-cohort and everyone I worked and chilled with. Maintain, keep your heads up, don't let the bastards grind you down.

Barack played the race card by mentioning that he's black, huh? I need to chat with some conservatives to get an idea of what these cats are really thinking.

Damn I need a job.

The new Flight Brothers album is almost done. Yeah, I know I've said it before, but it's coming.

How does a man cut off another man's head on a bus and nobody does a damn thing?

I'm trying to be less of a hater, but cats make it really hard with some of the bullshit I see and hear everyday.

My daughter, the light of my life and greatest bringer of joy ever, just turned 5. She starts kindergarden this month....Damn I'm old

I miss Philly like a motherfucker.

To all of my people that I haven't spoken to or chilled with in a minute, you aren't forgotten. I got mad love for you all.

I love staying home with my kids. If I could work from home I would

Football season starts soon, GO BIRDS, E-A-G-L-E-S, EAGLES!!!!

more ramblings later

 

I just  watched Miguel Cotto beat this dude from the Contenders into submission. I want to see him fight Floyd Mayweather. A lot of people say Floyd doesn't want to fight anymore. I always thought if you think you are the best and have no problem proving it then what's wrong? 20 million dollars is more than 95% percent of us will see in a lifetime. But shouldn't we always strive to be the best at whatever it is we do. One more fight won't hurt him and he'll probably win but then at least he knows he is still the best. If Cotto remains undefeated and Floyd decides not to fight then we will never know if he gets knocked on his ass by Cotto or Cotto is knocked out of the ring. If Hilary Clinton did not think she was the best candidate for President she would not run. Win or lose we will find out who America thinks is and at the end of the day she will know too. She will never have to wonder what if. Much like MC SHAN responding to KRS-ONE or John Street challeneging the norm when he was President of City Council. If we don't go out and strive to the best at what we do whatever it is I guess we'll really never know. While this may seem like a simple principle some people don't strive for it. Oh well just a thought now back to Classic Sports.
                                        Smilly

I’m up at 4 in the morning because I have a niece who has an octave level of Mariah Carey. I love her death despite the fact she turns 1 month old today but I also have a vision of sleep. Even though I’m not the actual parent living in the same house as the actual parent makes me I guess a parent. As my partner RSON will write very passionate and educating Walt Frazier like worded blogs. I am the comic relief of the FB’s. So while Jordan is screaming her lungs out I continue to write. I only hope she grows up and teams with my other niece Amy to form a female emcee group of none we have never seen. Ofcourse I’ll add another emcee to the equation whenever I decide to have my own. Until then get to know the other FB. Now that Jordan has calmed down a little I can finish this off like Rod Temperton finished the lyrics to Thriller in a cab. Lights Out
Smilly aka The Lyrical Magnum T.A.

..> ..>

For those who don't know, I'm back at school at UDel, getting my Masters degree (eventually). I'm currently taking a class on gender and plan on doing a research paper on females involved in underground hiphop (as artists, as fans, however). One of the things I'm going to need to do is define "underground" as best as possible. Again, i don't want this to become an argument over the term, rather an attempt to determine some sort of concensus that can stand as a definition of sorts. I'd also like to hear from any women on here or whom you all might know who would be down for completing a survey and/or being interviewed for my paper. Any and all input is welcome. R-SON the Voice of Reason

Well ya boy has finished his first semester of grad school. It was more work than I expected and I definitely need to step it up for next semester. That said, I've got to say that a lot of "academics" need to get off of their own dicks. Yes, you read alot and you write alot, but your shit stinks like everybody else's.

Too many people in this shit want you to jock them because they have letters after their name. Don't get me wrong, I'm trying to get mine too, but for me it's about what you do after you get them that matters. If you're not trying to better the world around you through your "scholarship" then I'm not trying to hear you, for real. Research just for the sake of research doesn't mean a damn thing. I'm trying to be on some West, Dyson, Hill type of shit mixed with some KRS, Chuck D, Asheru, J-Live kind of vibe.

So for anybody considering going back to get a masters, PHD, or whatever, know that there's MAD, MAD, politics and bulllshit involved and please, whatever your reasons, don't let anybody's bullshit get in your way. For the brothers especially, cause the young brothers need somebody to rep for that isn't a rapper or an athlete. No disrespect to them, especially those that are living right and setting good examples, but that's not all we can do to be successful, and the youth need to know that. A little rant there, but you how it is.....

More Later, get at me

 

The Voice