Beyond a shadow of a doubt, I have myself figured out. I may not know what the hell is going on in the minds of those around me, but I know my standing in my current life's situation. With that being said, I'm not the type to be anti-social, not in the least bit, but I've reached the point of 'zero tolerance' for bullshit. Most people would agree, but lets be real, even those closest to you can wild out in the drop of a dime and you'll be there, the loyal friend, putting up with it, trying your best to give them the honest truth while making sure you don't fuck up the friendship. Well, today, I've learned that those who truly care about you, as well as their own well being, understand that sometimes the brutal truth is necessary. If they can't deal with it, its time to move the hell on.

Not many people who have struggled in life can complain about being able to eat a good meal, even when dead broke, and having a reasonable place to live with enough amenities to keep you going. Given today's rising costs of living, I'm sure many young people, freshly released into the wild world of bills, tax paying and credit scores can agree. Keep in mind, I'm not referring to a bid at Riker's Island, because I'm sure they don't have the internet in every cell. Instead, a Marine barracks in Okinawa, Japan, on a small industrial base in the southern part of the island is put in the spotlight. For the simple minded, it's a good place to live, with a slight disturbance every now and then. For those who question everything; it's cramped living quarters with unruly tenants and poor facilities. For the few and far between, it could be a lot worse, but it also could be a lot better.

The primary issue dealing with barracks life isn't the rooms that are the modern versions of double-wide prison cells, nor is it the on again, off again plumbing. I personally don't mind the lopsided billiard on the 4th deck and the broken sticks. There are Marines in Iraq without billiards, Devil Dog. Ok, seriously, it's really not that bad. Compared to living out the back of a '94 Hyundai and surviving simply on street instinct, barracks life is next to Club Med, so any grateful human being, regardless of financial background, can appreciate it. The rooms are small, but a person who works for an organization that has them moving about from one location to another on a somewhat regular basis doesn't need the Gotti Estate to lay their head, just the appropriate facilities. So what's the big deal with barracks life?

Perhaps the rules can be a bit too cumbersome for a free spirit? After all, a Marine, new to Okinawa, dealing with the liberty restrictions, being prohibited to drive, and can't even get some alone time with a member of the opposite sex could start to lose sight of reality. As Marines in Garrison, we're not hard to please. A little bit of booze, liberty and a free pack of cigarettes and most of the island is content for a few days. Well, maybe just one for the drunks and the chain smokers. Still, no matter if you're 18 or 26, a Junior Enlisted Marine that once had, and could handle, the freedom that a Marine in the states has, and had that freedom taken away in some way shape or form, isn't going to agree with having the MCBJ UCMJ shackles on his/her feet.

With all of the liberty restrictions, Marines seek refuge in the barracks. Instead of going to the party, why not bring the party home, right? It makes sense to me. No members of the opposite sex in each others' rooms? Damn, that's a body shot for those of us with wandering eyes and enough charm to hold a conversation with a female well out of our league. But, being Marines, we adapt and overcome. Toga parties in the Beer Garden, 'Flip Cup' and beer bongs in the 2nd deck lounge, pavilion cookouts that last until odd hours of the night, and hopefully, just hopefully, someone can manage to maintain their sanity amidst all of this party oriented nonsense and sexual deviancy.

Then, of course, we have those that can get lost in the wonderful world of the internet and videogames for their sole source of comfort and entertainment. More power to them. I'll use my former roommate as a perfect example; he hardly went out, was rather anti-social, and would rather lose himself in a Role Playing Game on his desktop as opposed to get caught up in the community college social structure outside of our fortress of a room. He saved money, never once got caught up in a love triangle and managed to stay so low key that no one knew who he was so he had no enemies whatsoever. Though he has expressed to me that he's missed out on the cultural experience of the island, his worries and concerns had nothing to do with those around him.

That's a bit extreme for most of us; including me. Sure, there are nights where I want to do nothing else but lay around, eating Ramen noodles and watching Chapelle's Show, and there may be times where I'd rather sit in the smoke pit and make a new friend or two. There has to be some sort of middle ground that Marines can find to stay out trouble and remain sane in a world that is completely foreign to them, and when dealing with a chain of command that enforces rules just seem so unjust and unfair. "So what, a Marine 6 years ago raped a dozen schoolgirls at one time, in broad daylight, while Combat Camera had the film rolling?! I didn't do anything, hell, I just got here!" This is the mindset that we all have upon arriving, but some of us deal with it differently than others.

Here's the catch-22 in all of this; upon joining the Marine Corps, the wicked ways of a civilian should be dead and buried. Even though the Corps has a strict policy about allowing criminals to be a part of the few and proud, there are plenty of former drug dealers, gang bangers, thieves, hustlers, wierdos, violent drunks and pathological liars living in the barracks. Have you ever gotten something stolen from you? I'm sure you have, or at least, you know someone else who has. Marines talk amongst one another, when the beer flows, out come the stories. Add some hard liquor to the equation and the pores of the barracks become clogged with stupidity; like a Marine running around in an LBV, gas mask and combat boots... nothing else. Ok, I can see why the barracks can be a bit annoying from time to time. Some of us have gotten away from the nasty civilian world (which, in retrospect, was pretty damn good), and we're trying to grow comfortable in our roles as reformed members of society, but witnessing the ridiculous barracks antics, and dealing with that one NCO with no friends who insults your intelligence, abiding by the rules gets that much harder.

For every rule, there are a dozen, seemingly-foolproof, loopholes to circumvent the system. To no one's surprise, Marine's continue to get away with it. I've fallen on my own sword when it comes to striving for my own freedom. What the hell is a curfew, again? Oh well, it happens. After all, I'm a Marine in Okinawa and the only thing that can be done for any Marine who will fall victim to their own restless frustrations about having to abide by rules that their buddies in Pendleton or LeJeune don't have. When it comes to the lack of character, integrity and the gall to be a stand up person and follow some moral compass, the most anyone can do is live by a code of ethics and hopes it rubs off on someone around them. All we can do, as "non-rates," (don't you hate being called that) adjusting to this place is go with the flow. With that being said, I hadn't even tapped into the world of Marine male to Japanese female relations, I'm just scratching the surface.

Often in times of crisis, there will always be those insensitive few that downplay one issue to focus on their own agenda. The tragedy at Virginia Tech was just that, a tragedy. Keep those affected in your thoughts in prayers. For you that have never been shot, or have never lost someone due to senseless violence, this is when you shut the fuck up, digress and observe while being as respectful as possible. This isn't a time to compare this event to other horrible events of the past, no need to cite references. And this certainly isn't the time to say, "Well what about..." Pay your respects as a human being should and if you can support in any way possible, do so. Other than that, let the political agenda collect dust.

This isn't the blame of hiphop, violent movies, videogames, television, the rather easy access to firearms in the United States or any other scapegoat. This is a rare case of pandemonium, that probably could've been caught in the early stages if people just took a look at the guy's Xanga. Whatever the case, as much as I hate politics, I always find myself in political debates with people who believe that the agenda they push is justified. And as much as I hate politics, if you step to me with some wayward shit like, "if there wasn't so much violence in the media then this wouldn't have happened," I'll belittle you as I should.

My thoughts, prayers and sincerest concerns go out to those affected, directly or indirectly, with the events in Blacksburg.

Pax.

Good Morning.

So I got a message (IM), from an unnamed MySpacer, asking me if 'King' on my Top 24 is my brother. She, err, this person, then went onto say that we had a lot in common and looked alike.

I really didn't know how to respond without sounding like a smug bastard so I just said, "That's me."

This is where it got interesting.

"No, but you're FAME."
"That's my personal page."
"Why do you have a personal page?"
"Excuse me?"
"You already have a music page."
"The personal page came first."
"So why do you have the music page?"

At this point, I really think this person is joking and is trying to make small talk to just for their own entertainment, but then I realized that she, uh, whatever, she was dead-ass...

"The music page is for my music so I can shamelessly promote my music, write about anything I damn well please and network with total strangers without revealing too much of myself. My personal page is for friends and family."
"But you have yourself on your Top 24 on your personal page and LRG and Famous."
"Wow, you're thick."
"No, I'm really skinny."
"Are you serious?"
"Ya, haven't you seen my pictures?"
"No... nevermind."
"I'll send you some."
"And I'll send you a virus. Good day."

::BLOCKED::

myspace.com/brandonsaunders
That's me, geniuses.

I hope everyone has a wonderful day doing whatever it is that you do. Go kill something/someone, or be peaceful and bask in the serenity, I don't care, just have a good one.

-Pax.

For those that don't understand, for those that don't know or for those that haven't even heard about it, let me break this down so all can understand...

The simple mindset behind YBR (Young Black Republicans) is simple satire to our entire society. The same society that has financial constraints on those than can't afford to be brought up with life's simple luxuries. Keep in mind that when you think of a Republican, you think of a rich, White, generally older (middle aged) person that has lost touch with what's going on in the real world. Their views are generally percieved to be right-winged and the understanding of pertinant social issues is, well, non existent.

Well, me and EZ got to thinking, "Why can't we change things up? Why can't a young intelligent brotha who has struggled in life, who desires to be successful but doesn't want to sell out, live the life of a rich Republican?" There's no reason why we can't. Yes, we're a group of open-minded individuals that would probably fall into the Liberal category but this isn't about politics. This about a new era, a new movement in, not only music, but in every social arena imaginable.

Break the mold, break out of the box; the prison cell that you're confined to; and do something different. Do something that represents who you are to the fullest. Stop trying to be a fake thug, stop trying to fit the playboy image, stop living vicariously through the lives and twisted views of others and do your own thing. So this is the APB to all interested; join YBR. As long as you have something to offer, and you're committed to what we're trying to do, then you can be down with us.

Can't rap? That's alright, neither can I. Can't make beats like me (or you're better)? Then show us what you've got. Hell, there is so much to a business, to a lifestyle, to a movement; anyone can participate and anyone can contribute. Fuck a profit, that comes with the territory when you're serious about what you do. But the true gratification is achieving peace of mind when you can look into the eyes staring back at you in the mirror and be content with what you're doing.

Web Designers (Photoshop or PSP gurus)
Photographers
Writers (have a voice?)
Visionaries
Artists (paintbrush or spraycan)
Poets
Emcees
DJs
Producers
Etc.

Open your minds... intelligently.

YBR

 

FINE PRINT: You don't have to be Black.

When I first learned of the whole "White Rapper Show" concept, I was a bit skeptical. Just from the little I learned about it after reading about it on VH1.com (don't even ask why I was on that site to begin with), I thought it was a joke. Little did I know, this shit is taken mad seriously and because it's not a joke, and it's still ridiculous, this shit is a joke. Follow?

MC Serch is a legend in his own right. Anyone who knows a thing or two about HipHop and the pioneers of the genre needs to give Serch his just due. For being a minority, he was able to step forward, not give a fuck about color and do his thing. No one questions MC Serch on his credibility because he was able to be himself and get accepted right off the jump. He didn't grow up in Plano and then claim Oak Cliff and ride the waves of mainstream success (word to your mother).

Back to this show...

It irks the hell out of me because I know plenty of white emcees that can spit with the best of them. So if the show was going to be only white, you might want to get the best of the best, not a group full of misfits that need to be medicated every two hours in order to interact with one another. There's a long list of white rappers that are nice on the mic, and I'm not talking about Paul Wall, Eminem and Bubba Sparxxx (respect to them), I'm talking about the artists you don't hear about; Slug, Aesop Rock, Joe Scudda, etc.

I honestly only watched the show because of Misfit. Who was I fooling? Not like she was going to get naked anyway.

Jon Brown. Hmm. Where the hell did they pick this reject up from? When he freestyles, he has this type-confused look on his face like he doesn't know what the fuck is going on around him. His wordplay shows potential in the slightest, but his delivery is slow, I'm talking Pizza Hut on a Saturday night-slow. If that isn't enough to push him to the side, he's on some other conceptual shit. Jon Brown calls himself the King of the Burbs, right? But then he talks about Ghetto Revival. All the while, he never explains how he's going to revive the ghetto. He just bows out and says, "Hallelujah, Holla Back."

Ummm? Did I miss something?

Ok, my point is that this show makes HipHop look like a joke, it makes white people look stupid (...nevermind), it especially makes it seem like white people should never have any involvement with the lifestyle and it spits in the face of a highly respect HipHop pioneer. If you watch the show, take it for what it is; comedy. If one of those white rappers (except for Shamrock and Sullee; those dudes were nice) makes it, don't buy into the hype. Do some HipHop research on your own.

"My culture's not a trend, Being Black is not in
But for you, its a phase you'll just have to transcend" -Murs

Hallelujah, Holla Back. Ghetto Revival. (huh?)

From me and mine to you and yours, I hope you're enjoying the day.

Back on my grind after a brief hiatus (aka work).

New beats coming soon.

A new movement is also on the way.

YBR
Young Black Republicans

Its all in the music.

Anyone that has ever had a heart to heart conversation with me knows that I try to put everything I possibly can into the proper perspective. When livnig a certain life, dealing with the monotony that we often deal with, we have to keep a handle on things. From time to time, I feel as though I'm in a situation that is of no real benefit to me. All I want out of life is financial stability, peace of mind and complete and utter happiness. I'm only human so I get frustrated. I get frustrated that I'm not where I feel I should be, I'm frustrated that I've come so far and I sometimes consider turning back and I'm frustrated that I could even doubt myself in the slightest.

Truth be told, I know what I'm good at. I know what I'm not good at. I know where I'm going, its just a matter of getting there. By 30, I want to be living in SoCal, Austin (Texas) or South Florida, making music, writing, stuntin' on my motorcycle and enjoying life to the fullest. Don't be mislead, I enjoy life for what it is already. My music, my writing and the drive I have to succeed beyond what I have already done keeps me at ease. Then again, I'm always going to be fighting. No, I'm not bashing dudes over the head with beer bottles, beating up cops in Tijuana or fighting in a ring anymore, I'm fighting for my future.

To truly put this in perspective, I can't my current situation dictate how I view life and deter me from reaching my goals. And for anyone that reads this and feels as though they can relate, make sure you keep things in perspective as well. Because, one of these days, we'll be in that place that is a utopia. Kickin' it on the water on a warm summer night with a Corona, a pack of Newports and my Queen, not caring about any of the nonsense that this crazy world throws our way. Get your mind right. I'm handling mine.

Pax.

Today I was privileged enough to meet a man who shattered the constraints of expectation and still must fight to even be respected as a human being. He is a man that has created a name for himself by opening up businesses all across an island that does rather well, but can't even sit down and have a cup of coffee due to how he looks. This man, this incredible philanthropist, is constantly treated like the scum of the earth because he does not fit in. And yet, he doesn't curse the world he lives in, nor does he wish that he had the might to commit wrongdoings, this man takes it all in stride. All the while, he demonstrates the strength of character, the honor and the respect that many people seem to lack.

The world we live in is a small place. Simple as that. When dealing with people all across the world, one must learn how to communicate with people from all walks of life, or at least, people that do business with him. He is an Indian man born in Ghana and was raised in Japan. His Japanese, English and French is clear without the trace of the slightest accent. He's of a light brown complexion with thick hair and thick beard. Unfortunately, for this kind hearted man with a love for people, hiphop music and skateboarding, he's spat on (literally and metaphorically), by nearly everyone. Post September 11, Americans and the British treat him like less of a man because he fits the physical description of a Middle Eastern man. He's cursed at and insulted on a daily basis. Teenagers and adults alike call him names like, "Towel-head, terrorist, insurgent, Jihad, etc," and he's a peaceful Buddhist.

After speaking with him for a few hours while listening to some Gangstarr, Nas, Public Enemy and Ice Cube (The Predator), I've come to the conclusion that I've accepted the ignorance of mankind. The nature of man is an excuse to justify mankind's arrogance, rudeness and wrongdoings. It's saddening to learn that I expect people to have no regard for human life because that is what this society has become. This man reminded me why I once had open arms for anyone in need. Lately, specifically this past year, I've reached a point where I dislike most people. I'm not one to judge, but with the common, irresponsible attitudes and ill manners of many people that I've met in my life, I came to the conclusion that people aren't worth my time and I wouldn't show kindness unless someone really opened up to me.

This man; this quiet, meek individual; reminded me that all I do is add to the problem if I don't enlighten those in the dark. However, he never said that directly. He just shared grim stories of injustice and humiliation because of how he looked, who he believed in, what languages he spoke and where he lived. I could only ask him "why" so many times before I had to silently ask myself the same question. He has a good heart because he believes its contagious. If I walked out of that store without speaking to him, I would've gone on about my business with my same, "you don't deserve to be respected," attitude that I'm known to have. That wasn't the case, and maybe it's time for me to truly give people a chance, even though they're ignorant.

Who am I to be the one to enlighten? I am no one, really. Yes, I do see the injustices and the prejudice, but what can I do? If I do try and speak to someone, or write up a blog about the matter, I'll be told to get off my soapbox. But if I don't, then I'm enabling the social problems that this world faces. The decision is simple, I'll have to face the criticism of being too preachy. As I help others, they help me to help myself. I only wish I could reach more people as this man reached me. Maybe we can stop this 'War on Terrorism,' and convince the world that the information on the war is just propoganda to turn the Western World against Muslim because a certain imperialistic power believes it has ties to 'terrorism.' Maybe we can take stands against the smallest of problems that is within our realm of control and take a page out of this man's book. He's fighting a war that simpletons wouldn't even begin to understand.

Pax.

I'm sick as hell and I have nothing better to do than sleep and look for YouTube vids of women booty shakin' and doing the Dutty Wine. Which has led me to wonder; what would happen if someone died while doing the Dutty Wine? I wonder if it would be as funny as imagine it to be. It probably would. Well, to me, at least.

Remember that episode of Chappelle's Show about 'When Keeping it Real Goes Wrong?' If that show were still on the air, I'd pitch this idea in a heartbeat. If Sean Paul's yellow ass can be a crossover sensation, I'm sure the Dutty Wine dance can be as well. Anyway, I could just imagine Dave Chappelle's goofy ass strolling on stage with a cigarette, welcoming the audience to the show, opening with a corny little joke (that is inexplicably funny as all hell) and then him opening for the 'When the Dutty Wine Goes Wrong' sketch.

That bellowing, deep voice of that anonymous, Unsolved Mysterious narrator would then introduce the scenario, and it would go from there. Of course, it would expectedly end with someone's neck getting snapped from doing the Dutty Wine. The narrator would then recap the story like, "Stereotypicalblackgirlname was just enjoy a night out at the club, and despite the warnings of her friends, she decided to do the Dutty Wine. This should be a lesson to all those who witnessed this account of stereotypicalblackgirlname to use caution when doing the Dutty Wine, or it could go wrong."

It would cut back to Dave on stage, presiding over the audience and everyone would be laughing. He would probably be laughing more than the audience because, as a comic, he understands the sketch a lot better. And, as for me, I'll still be wishing I could be at whatever club, at whatever time, on whatever day when someone really falls victim to the Dutty Wine.