I heard somewhere one in five people knows a celebrity before they hit it big. So today, while driving, I got to thinking about what would happen if I actually became a celebrity. My hands tingled and I filled with a curious kind of joy thinking about certain peoples reaction. Specifically, my old co-workers who in my humble opinion, were already haters, and my former bitch-ass boss. My grin was a mile wide as I imagined myself on the previews of primetime television walking out to the talk shows that would be airing later in the week and even better, them in the theater gathering their belongings when my name rolls up in the credits for having written a movie. #Bowdownbitches But, I was enjoying this fantasy alone. As Erykah Badu says, “the studio audience in my head" was not with me on this one. It was just me, in my car gawking stupidly at a stupid self-made fantasy. You see, the little voice in my head said, when someone does something to you, as foul as it may be, they do it and MOVE ON. You, the proposed victim are in fact elevating them to celebrity status when you constantly feed them with your energy. AIN’T NOBODY WORRIED BOUT YOU!!! Wasn’t that made clear by their actions?
Damn it self! Sigh. I get it. Write that movie, that play, that book, that blog, because that’s what you want to do, not for the reaction! Do what you want because you want to, not because of what you think people will do in response. You were moved so that you could realize your star power, your magic, harness it, perfect it, grow in it, for you. It takes elbow grease to get something to shine, stop looking to see your reflection in other peoples tables and put that elbow grease to you own.
I was browsing the net today, perusing over the myriads of social media, pokes, tweets, pics, and posts. Smh at many of the #wittypunchlines and #LookatwhatIgotnow, #hatersgonhate posts that paraded themselves across my various timelines. The bold braggarts for the most part irritated me until I saw the complimentary, "#ThankyouJesus", "#PraiseGod", "#GodisGood", "#PeacebeuntoAllah", and user names like, GoddessIsisMaatMawuGoldenlife that followed many of these same supercilious updates. Then I laughed, hard. Last time I checked, a person usually isn't overcome with gratitude and being a flat-out brag at the same time.
So being the #blessedandhighlyfavored smartass that I am, I got to thinking....what if God really were one of us? I mean really, whatever you call him in your faith, God, Allah, Jesus, Most High... Buddah. What if they were one of us in the sense that they had had Twitter, Instagram, or Facebook. It's not necessary to ponder the number of followers or requests that they'd have. Besides, that's not what interests me. Its the posts that I would find interesting.
Lets say your one of those, what I like to call, #photoshoppedspecialties of the social media world; the ones that only post when you have done something worthy of #haters, or so you think. So at every new car, promotion, new house, new much cuter boyfriend/girlfriend, vacation, or otherwise expensive purchase, you find your fingers fumbling to click a pic and press the "share" to Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram and or whatever else it is that you prescribe to button. What do you think God would do?
Surely, these haughty, yet, humble posts must inhibit the same eye-rolling with the unseen spiritual head Honchos as it does myself. Like they say, as above so below, right? Personally, I think the spiritual realm has a great sense of humor. I think that He, or She for my feminists and Others, would post something like," Your welcome hun, #foralimitedtimeonly", or "No, hater's make you disliked, they make me famous". Or to those who give the complimentary, #Godisgood, what if he responded, "#ididntgiveyouthat, call Me!" ROTFLMAO!!! OOPS!! I meant, ROTFLMBO!!!
And God forbid, what if He, or She, actually "unfriended" someone? #DAMN
It's just, there is so much #notfunny, and #sosad in our society right now. I still get teary-eyed when I think about the poverty I saw first-hand in Cape Town, South Africa. People praying to the same God didn't even have toilets, running water, a bed, a pillow, a church...and yet, they still lifted their chests and pressed in their abdomens in praise of God because of His #graceandmercy. I think of people in Haiti who are praising God, and other nameless, faceless people praising whatever deity they serve for being #alwaysontime and they don't necessarily have anything fancy to take a picture of, just, #dinner.
Now, I m not saying that I don't have the occasional posts where I'm feeling myself a lil' bit, cause I have those posts too, but they are in real time and are not a constant neccessity. I do however tire of seeing people only braggin' online though. Especially, when they have little joy in real life. #SMH. But, who am I kiddin', God would probably respond to me too, "#judgenotmyscrewedupchild", or "Let's not forget what you prayed for ten minutes ago", or even better, "#nobitchassness".
Well, #imnotperfect, I was just making an observation....#imjustsayin
The reviews, most of them anyway, have been terrible. However, I am not sure what movie the so-called critics were watching, furthermore, what the agenda is for the heavy-handed upbraiding towards Hollywood's Golden Boy. For twenty years now, Will Smith has made us laugh at and cheer for his corny relatable nature with aliens and otherworldly cinematic endeavors. Even more, he has proven himself a cash cow, unbeatable in first week movie ticket sales for what is for some, 18 years of child support payments and two years of celebration. So what has changed... perhaps nothing, perhaps everything. The movie I saw chronicled a Black man and his son through accidental journey back to Earth, the most perilous of all places for human life. Everything, warns Smith's character, General Cypher Raige, has been evolved to destroy them. Funny, with the current situation going on in Chicago, now sadly known as "Chiraq", unemployment at an all time high, prison sentences as easy to catch as the common cold, food deserts, and disease, is that not similar to the current state of being for the Black man on Earth? Nonetheless, Smith's character is one of the only human men in existence who is able to ghost, that is, evade a ghastly looking creature that can smell your fear. This creatures victims are hung on trees, displayed for examples like the Strange Fruit Billie Holiday sang about so many years ago. General Raige's son, and likewise Smith's son Jaden, Kitai in the movie, is a ranger hopeful, and otherwise adolescent boy both eager to win his father's approval and simultaneously escape his shadow, is set to escape the call of death alongside his father in this steady, inspiring, futuristic foray. After Earth has been criticized for its alleged pushing of Scientology dogma which frankly, I find, laughable. Seriously folks? Every Friday, as sure as sunrise, a new movie is released, and this has been so since the inception of cinema. For years, movies have pushed drunken, drug infested, racist, sexist, Whites-only, dogmas on viewers and for the most part, many of these messages are so subliminal they are not even caught. Oh, and don't even get me started on television... So now, when Smith decides to write a story, star in its movie, along with his son, produce that movie with his Black partner, and his Black wife and Black brother-in- law, the movie gets shunned....for pushing an agenda? Even if he was, would he not be protected under free speech and artistic freedom, not to mention the legions of other films that promote religious dogmas? I will say this, Black people, this is what you have been asking for, aching for, waiting to see. A movie written by a Black person, with a complete family, yes Smith's character is married to a sister, with a great storyline, metaphysical elements, fatherhood, unquestioned manhood, no unnecessary violence, no wince-worthy cursing, and Black people that make to the future, alive. For all you that spray vitriol on every movie starring Jezebels, mammies, bucks, Uncle Toms, Sapphires, Tragic Mulattoes, and Stallions, and for all of you whose stomach turns every time you see a 6 foot man with a high-ass and gray lace front wig, here is your offering. Go see it. Black folks finally make it to the future, outlast Earth even, and we are not sad or dead. GO SEE THE MOVIE, its worth it.
Have you ever watched a television show or movie with a kid? I urge you to try it sometimes because they do this really magical thing where they point at the screen and replace their real lives with that of the character they are watching. Its fascinating to watch them excitedly exclaim, "I'm him/her", or "you him/her", and even more fascinating how easily it is to forget that once upon a time we did that too.
I think that is why Hip Hop will never die, no matter how ignorant, murderous, and materialistic it gets. The execs that write the checks know that for three minutes, teenagers and adults of all ages will crank the volume and replace their own lives with the much better ones riding the bass lines. Which brings me to the reason for this blog....a song I heard called, U.O.E.N.O., or you don't even know it. The jest of the song is that there are four badasses riding around with blank checks, bad bitches, big bad boys, and committed crimes that will never get prosecuted. They are invincible, essentially.
So, being the socially conscious smart ass that I am, I begin to ponder a response to this song. My song would be called, I.D.O.E.M. The Real World Remix, Bitch. And yes, you have to say the whole title. It go something like this:
"Its hungry folk on the street, It don't even matter.
Soma dem even got kids , and It don't even matter
College grads wanna save the world, It don't even matter
Mosta dem wont even get a job, and it don't even matter."
Picture it. I'm on the treadmill, with a full mug on my face, totally absorbed in my fantasy. I can see myself in the studio, red bottoms on, the longest, flyest, Remi hair tightly sewn to my skull, make up flawless, telling these rapper folks what really goin' down in des here streetz. Then I thought, "nobody'll listen to that". That's what the news is for.
These artists are really doing nothing wrong, (except for bragging about the crimes because I can't get down with that). They are musical magicians because for three minutes, my used car becomes a tricked out candy red Range Rover with caramel seats, Id call her Candy Apple. For three minutes, my bills are paid, and my ride home from work becomes a ride down Times Square, and my 9-5 behind becomes an invincible Hip Hop god.
I wiped the sweat off of my brow, and my vision out of my head....I just lost a rap battle, and the other artists didn't even know it.