So yeah, when I was 12 yrs. old I heard Blue Flowers off Dr. Octagon and that fucked my whole perspective up.
Then a couple years ago, a mentor moved to Germany. Right before, he told me to study Tom Waits,
he said I reminded him alot of what he did.
After seeing this video with them together, I feel alot more vindicated for the type of crazy shit that I like to do.
Just a video of M.J. DUNKING on Ewing during one of those football like
Bulls vs. Knicks playoff games...
Now then,
I wrote a poem after I saw a commercial around the time of the 2009 NBA Playoffs.
At the time, I thought that his endorsement would seal the deal, but as the video below shows, he didn't go to Coppenhagen with Obama/Oprah/Daley, etc.
So, as it turns out,
maybe he concentrated more on his braggadocio hall of fame speech. Can't blame him.
So here's my poem...
____________________________
Dear. Mr. Jordan
Hi, Like most people who grew up in Chicago,
I grew up watching you,
watching you slow motion
float thru hater-lane defenses
and camera shot flashes.
They would always
attempt to capture you,
but could never keep you on the ground,
you always figured out a way
to fly,
anti Kunta kicking high
into opponents faces,
slammed shame of defeat.
You made this city's shoulders
more broad, proud, arrogant enough
to tear its own heart out,
light it on fire,
then put it back in the next morning without
worry of acid reflux.
You help inspire the law enforcement officers
create a "pen" for its street stampeders,
its horned shit starters,
its true fans.
Because a real fan embodies its team's spirit
not drunkenly hibernating thru seasons
like certain baseball/football teams.
To say the least,
people consider you a Diety around here.
While drinking and playing cards,
a friend says,
"I ain't never seen Jesus,
but I seen Jordan"
Then proceeds to tell a story about being neighbors
with your X-wife,
while you all were courting,
and how you came down the block
like the Mayor of the Southside (because you were)
in a Lamborgini,
cruising of course,
until you saw a basketball hoop
in the middle of the street,
so you proceeded to entertain
a young fan,
with a one on one game,
where he crossed you
and made his shot,
So thusly,
being the winner you are,
you went to the car,
switched shoes,
went back,
and dunked on the kids
ego,
and he said thank you.
We,
in this town,
appreciate being put in our place,
as long
the person putting us there
is our hero.
You saved Chicago from being
second place,
made our Sears Tower seem taller,
we appreciate these things.
So with ALL that being said,
Mr. Hero,
why is it that your attempting
to make it harder to live in this city
for those that are of, from,
birthed by,
poor'd indebt to...
maybe they can't monitarily
support you
like those who
hibernate,
fatten'd off of
this cities exclusive circles
ariola blood suckers
with their front row tickets to
see you fly...
But why are you helping them
use this Olymipics Bid,
2016,
like Louisiana Levees,
2005,
another reason to market flood
rising rent prices like
tieds when scooba gear gets
unaffordable.
I guess the answer is,
displaced refugees aren't really
your fans in the end...
Only the people who help you
pay your gambling debts
and your alimony checks.
Sorry Mr. Jordan,
for wasting your time...
I use to like Pippen more
anyhow...
adendum
Thank you Mr. Jordan,
For not giving a fuck enough to stay out of Copenhagen.
pretty much, I've been bullshittin' with this blogging thing, SO...
to make it up,
I'm posting a free Documentary about everyone's favorite sizzurp drinkin', soon to be incarcarated rapper. Very interesting, alittle worrysome at times, but overall it does him justice.
Coming from a person apart of the generation that actually grew up simontaneously with him, I do have to say that...yeah...we're alittle fucked up (my generation that is).
Oh and did you know that 50 wrote and directed his own hood-sploitation movie. I will not be posting that. You have to find it yo self.
I WILL post this though...
SHABALADO!!!! Black Dynamite was ignant as hell (that means good)
