Peace to Apache


Apache – Gangsta Bitch
Hit the Twitter this morning (follow us if you aren’t already) and found out the news. Again, as this author said on the Teddy Pendergrass entry, younger deaths hurt the heart like no other, but if hearing such news brought back good memories, then a man’s time walking among us wasn’t a waste.

Bump the cut and you’ll understand why that sound will live forever, regardless of pop rap whims. That was a downright electric time in Hip-Hop, sparking trends that some of the current faves keep alive to this day for a reason.

#58: Twitter

Those of you who actually get down on Twitter shouldn’t even be surprised that it’s going on this list. Ghetto people love to tweet. And you can look in every single trending topic…it’s gonna be a majority percentage of ghetto people posting to it. Swearing they know what the hell they’re talking about. When usually it’s just some silly street sh*t they heard a few of their little friends say based on the latest rap song, then they run and tweet that like it’s the gospel.

And of course, just like any social media that falls into ghetto hands, there’s tons of sluts in the building too, with avatars of cleavage or the booty in nothing but panties, who for some odd reason have the nerve to post those little inspirational tweets. Shut the entire hell up, you ain’t no guru…ain’t you like 19? So many under-dressed broads who claim how Christian they are (as if that stands anyone on their ears) populate Twitter, it’s like you’re on BlackPlanet: The Next Generation.

Though they are fun to toy with on the Formspring app…but I digress.

Anyway, you can read these tweets and tell what really matters to ghetto people. One huge obsession is CHEATING. It’s a sign if the times really, because this world is fascinated with cheating, and ghetto people are no exception. So many of the ghetto population are products of misdirected lovin’, it’s only natural.

Not to mention one can look at the “following” versus “followers” of many ghetto Tweet-fiends and the high school tendencies that only a ghetto person can appreciate become clear, like the narcissism and begging for attention, the e-thuggery, the yappin’ all day about nothing…

But one has to admit, ghetto people are the spice of Twitter. Because otherwise one would be left with tweets about the Jonas Brothers or someone tryna plug their penis pump website or something.

BTW, you should follow us too!

#57: Teddy Pendergrass

This author has an understanding that death is generally sad, but that many deaths can actually make you smile. In these cases, after you say “aw, damn, s/he died?!?” you smile because you think back to someone’s heyday and the legacy they left. You can smile if someone has lived a life that was fairly full and healthy. Like that guy that came up with Gumby. You hear that he passed and you begin to think “man, I used to love Gumby!” Ghetto people might think of Eddie Murphy doing Gumby on SNL or a Gumby fade back in the new jack swing era…but I digress.

The deaths that don’t bring smiles, that are sad as hell, are those where one was robbed of promise and potential upon death or somewhere down the line prior to death. Like young actors and athletes. Say, Len Bias or MC Trouble or River Phoenix. Someone where the next big thing they were up to was just around the corner (see John Ritter, for example).

Or in Teddy Pendergrass’s case, he didn’t get to continue or finish his career on his terms. The man gets paralyzed in a car accident in 1982 and that was that. Similar to how you think about what might have been had Jay Williams of Duke and the Chicago Bulls not hopped his tail on a motorcycle and crashed it or had Christopher Reeve not had that horse-riding accident or had the D.O.C. not crushed his voice box or Lauryn Hill not decided to start poppin’ out babies by a Marley kid…or if John Belushi and Chris Farley didn’t have drug issues…or if Eazy-E had wrapped it up…no telling what they might have had left in the tank, what ideas they had swimming in their heads. Death or no death, it’s always sad when the end comes way too soon, and the whole deal is cheapened into being a moment in time.

Ain’t like this author can’t live with that, one doesn’t need it to be 1979 or ’86 or 2001 or whatever, f*ck all that, one should embrace the future, the show gotta go on. Still though, all rambling aside, back to the point–what was the point? Ah, doesn’t really matter. The ghetto knows one thing though. Teddy cuts sure came in handy for getting some draws off. Those of you about 28-35, just ask ya mama. Her ready *ss probably threw hers on stage when he rocked the Total Experience back in the day. Couldn’t have him, so she settled for your daddy!

Don’t shoot the messenger.

#56: Not making New Year’s resolutions

It has likely occurred to you from observation (as it has this author…read along) that of all the bandwagons ghetto people hop on, they ain’t makin’ no resolutions. If they smoke, they smoke. If they fat, they fat (hoo boy, are they ever!). Look around the ghetto first few days of the year, you know ghetto people ain’t givin’ a f*ck about changing! At least not immediately. Ghetto people make changes when they get good and ready, bottom line. Otherwise, they’re perfectly content with how they do whenever you met them, and you’ll have to just deal.

In a way, that’s not a bad thing. Because it’s admittedly kinda silly for a bunch of cornballs to be pigging out and shopping till they drop and drinking like a fish, pounding all these things they usually partake of like it’s going out of style, only to suddenly dead it all cold turkey on January 1st…”new year, new me!!” Uh, what’s that Chad Eight Five says again…oh yeah, that’s right….child, please! Try to all perfect and without sin and sh*t as if the sinful ways are years behind you and you got it all nailed down. Most people who try to get religion and make resolutions distill back to who they were sometime around Valentine’s Day.

Maybe ghetto people are on to something. Change is a process. A process one embarks upon when the time is right, the heart’s really in it, and the mind can invest in it properly…not all willy nilly simply because it’s January. So while the lot of folks start slappin’ on nicotine patches and plunking down CNBC mad money for LA Fitness memberships, the ghetto people are getting in IHOP to get in those all you can eat pancakes (with bacon or sausage) and washing it down with a Newport when they’re done.

#55: Raising bad kids

Something about ghetto people and raising bad *ss kids. Off the hook *ss kids…some with hook heads. Throwing things at the teachers, cussin’ around town, running around the f*ckin’ store treating it like it’s an Olympic track meet where they can win free Kool-Aid for a year. (Who else resists the urge to trip one?) Since when was a Kmart run a day at the park? If the kids need a place to play, take them to Chuck E. Cheese. Repeat, Chuck E. Cheese, not Cheesecake Factory. This author wants to enjoy the herb-crusted salmon in peace.

Is it that being bad as a child is believed to make you tough enough to handle the real world? Is the parent that burnt out to do any serious child rearing (meaning child development in community college was a waste of financial aid and she may as well have taken cosmetology)? Does mama need her Newport or Black & Mild–or blunt–to cope anymore? (Who knows where daddy is–probably ran away because he knew going in it was no use even tryin’.) Ghetto parents let their kids do just off the wall things. As much sugary bullsh*t as they’re allowed to eat, it’s no wonder these kids just go a million miles an hour tearing up toys, knocking down the glass furniture, making a big mess, and making a parent think of selling them on the black market like Shaniya Davis’s mother (never too soon).

And there is no “it takes a village to raise a child,” because ghetto parents ain’t having anyone say sh*t to their precious jewel of a child. No matter what they did. So of course you can forget about a ghetto child knowing the meaning of accountability, because they’ve been taught they’re bigger than society. There should be a law where you’re allowed to intervene under the right conditions and circumstances, allowed one exception a year of “going chimp” on someone when they’re just doing too much at your expense. OK, maybe not go chimp, because that leaves pretty ugly results, but you should be allowed to dish out a good sound beating like Mister once in a while. Or just flick one like Superman did those beer nuts in Superman III.

Nope, can’t go there, times have changed, so you’re just *ss out like we all are. The kids will be bully-footing their schoolmates and everyone else in the vicinity. Girls hella fast getting knocked up at 13, boys will always itch to wanna do some dirt, drinking and smoking way too young, something illegal or else all isn’t right with the world. This is how they get tried as adults. They may as well be the adults because we’ve turned the world over to them, spoil them, let ‘em do whatever the f*ck they want. After all, at the month of this writing, parents ghetto or not ghetto are out breaking themselves to get their kids the latest expensive gadget or a jacket they’ll get too fat for in a few weeks or a toy they won’t give a sh*t about by MLK’s birthday, all for the sake of holiday spirit. Rewards their ADD-having behinds won’t appreciate because they weren’t taught to.

The babies are not the greatest because instead of teaching them to be, we’re teaching them they already are…and getting results like every douche on My Super Sweet Sixteen.

This could go a billion directions…so could ghetto kids if this author had a 32 oz. Louisville Slugger at his disposal.

#54: Going to court

Don’t get it twisted, ghetto people HATE going to court just as much as anyone does. But after a while, it’s like a complete 360 (no, I don’t mean 180!) is done on the whole saga and one hates it so much you may as well like it, if that makes any sense. You learn how to deal with it. Getting enough tickets or catching enough cases, you just form a routine.

You stop going alone. You start bringing the iPod or Zune to kill time (like this author did, the bwoy was bumpin’). You clear the schedule that morning. And you just kinda free your dome, loosen up, and go there ready for anything. Once upon a time, this author purposely left the whip at home and caught the bus downtown in a throwaway striped hoodie, jeans, and some clapped out Air Force Ones (no they weren’t all-white lows!) because what’s the point of being dipped (and I was still dressed better than the average person who goes) if a) one is doing some grimy *ss hoofin’ it and b) you just might not come home when you’re done in front of the judge?

This author has known dudes who were HAPPY to go to the pen! When asked why, it was because things were settled and the stressful court process was over. When cats are happy to go do their bid in West Bubblef*ck with a bunch of killers sorted out by race and towers of guards with rifles trained on them who will shoot the inmates with bullets they themselves have to pay for (paying to get shot, ain’t that about a b*tch?), that is really telling about court.

And even traffic court has its problems, because the lines are the kind people going to claim GR don’t even want a part of. All kinds of transient degenerates who wear Skechers are in the mix with people mad they get to take a break and trade gridlock on the commute for the gridlock between sheriff’s deputies. All for the pleasure of watching the clerks close windows just to f*ck with everyone waiting in that 1000-deep line to get that extension for that quota ticket they just got over the holidays (and can’t get it out the way, because it’s not in the system yet, which the clerk who’s lucky to have a job is more than happy to let you know with her stank attitude).

May as well blaze or sip on something before going. Need something to make you feel good while waiting with everyone else to get on those funky *ss elevators on the way to the next “here goes nothing” moment.

Crips in New York City?!?

Are you f*cking kidding me?

Unbelievable.

One of those kids is yellin’ “cuzz”…it don’t even sound right in that accent, like a mockery almost.

Far be it from this author to question anyone’s thug thizzle…I don’t even think it’s about turning the streets out on that tip for these particular guys, seems like it’s a rap thing.

This could have been a “You can’t make this stuff up” entry, but it was just beyond bizarre to see this. Don’t get it twisted, I got used to NYC-style Bloods, but I also know that what they do is different. Generally though, it’s like this in my mind, if you’re gonna be thuggin’, the least you can do is stay in your city’s lane. Bay Area do their Bay thing, Chicago and the Midwest stick to Folks and People, New York should stick to Decepticons and razor blades in the mouth and buck fiftyin’ people (not that I want to see that), and Crippin’ and Bloodin’ needs to be left to SoCal and wherever it made its way to pre-The Chronic. For a style of thuggin’ to rise in a place known for a different home brew? It’s just odd.

About as odd as that Champ MC video “Keep It On The Real”, with lowrider Impalas in the middle of the Bronx.

What’s next, Nortenos and Surenos in France or some sh*t?

UPDATE: Researched it some more and it seems that Crips have been around in the Tri-State and other northeast US areas since at least ’96. Doesn’t take away from my idea that NYC just looks weird embracing a foreign style of thuggery. And they could be very true and sincere to this, showing solidarity with SoCal sets and everything. I’m just sayin’, between this and those 508 dudes, the streets are out of control, things done changed.