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ON TRISHA GODDARD SHOW TODAY, BLACK MARRIED COUPLE WAS ON..HE HAS 5 SPIRIT WIVES..HIS FIRST WIVE WATCHES HIM HAVE SEX WITH OTHER WOMEN, HIS OTHER SPIRIT WIVES,SHE HAS NO PROBLEM WITH THAT.....HE WATCHES HER HAVE SEX WITH OTHER MEN, GIVES ADVICE AND INSTRUCTIONS....HE SAID IN THE BIBLE SOLOMON HAD LOTS OF WIVES....HE SAYS HE IS EMOTIONALLY MARRIED TO HIS SPIRIT WIVES, FIRST SPIRIT WIFE SAYS WATCHING HIM MAKE LOVE TO OTHER WOMEN DOES NOT CHANGE HER LOVE FOR HIM...REALLY/IS THIS SOMETHIG NEW, BLACK MEN WITH MARRIED SPIRIT WIVES, AND BLACK WOMEN LIKING IT.REALLY////.,

I just recently completed Toni Morrison’s latest book “Home”, a novel I have been looking forward to reading because its advance notices promoted it as being set in the 1950s, an era I could relate to. Since many of Morrison’s novels take place way back in the day, I was glad she had chosen to write about what was, to me, a more recent period in history. I was curious about how Ms Morrison would portray the 1950s which have been referred to as not only a bland and innocent time populated by the “silent generation“, but also the decade that was ripe for the civil rights movement it spawned. I anticipated she would write about a passive race of people, done with being patient, spurred into protest by dynamic leaders like Martin Luther King, and inspirational ones like Rosa Parks, and martyrs like Emmet Till, all played out against a backdrop of doo-wop music and Amos ‘N Andy TV and Dorothy Dandridge celebrity. The ‘50s I knew. Silly me. I should’ve realized that Toni Morrison would never stoop to such mundane predictability. With Toni it’s never easy. And “Home” is vintage Morrison. So, before long, through the vividness of her prose fraught with its extraordinary metaphors, and the wretched poignancy of her characters, I was beyond reading this book; I was experiencing it. In my imagination I was there, immersed in a version of life in the 50s that was diametrically opposed to the one I led back then as a young black woman residing in a small integrated suburb of Chicago. Crouched in the unforgiving frozen terrain of Korea, killing to keep from being killed while dodging bullets, I was there with the book's protagonist, Frank Money, as he witnessed the horrible deaths of the homeboys with whom he had enlisted in the Army, hoping to escape the dead-end drudgery that was their fate as black youth bogged down in the dusty little rural town of Lotus, Georgia. There, following Frank through the post traumatic stress that plagues him as a shell-shocked war veteran, wandering the dangerous streets of northern cities, working his way through despair with whiskey and the fleeting love of Lilly, a comely, ambitious woman not content to be his ongoing caregiver. There, listening to the frenetic be-bop music in a smoky little night club, visited between trains on his way back to rescue his gullible younger sister, “Cee”, who has been victimized and sterilized by a mad professor of eugenics. And, in the end, there, back in the confines of a hapless little town that modernization forgot, and slavery remembered. Yet a place that is also a welcoming haven not lacking in the homespun warmth and time-worn wisdom embodied by its black inhabitants, common folk of varying degrees of good and evil who, through the worst of conditions have endured, blissful in their ignorance, secure in their belief that “be it ever so humble, there’s no place like home”. As the book draws to its close I was also there, witnessing a reappearing zoot-suited phantom who like the style he sported, comes and finally goes with a smile on his face, signalling that "all's well, that ends well". At 145 pages, “Home” is a short intense novel, something which always earns points with me, and a satisfactory read for those who are up to the challenge of spinning straw into gold. Finally, because it is what it is, I have no choice but to give this good thing that came in a small package, 4 stars. * * * *

Your little smattering of tid bits about jazz and swing and 1950's love ballads can simliarly be classified as having "limited knowledge", Nah'sun. So you have a Coltrane album. Big deal. Do you even know the genre of MIles Davis' brand of jazz? "Little Richard" and {Dizzzy) Gillespie in the same sentence? Get outta here. "Strange Fruit" a love ballad? Puleeze. Cab Calloway a forerunner of rapping? No way. Have you ever heard of King Pleasure? I didn't think so. Samplings of a producer are not a reflection of the fans of Rap.And where is your input about the blues?? Not content to rhapsodize Rap, you want to elevate to the top position this bastardized music that consists of spitting out a bunch of repetitive, deliberately profane rhymes, the themes of which are undeniably trite, having long ago lost their shock value. Bitches, hos, guns, booze, killings, bling, cars. ZZZZZZZZ In the folly of your youth, you really think the Rap genre is a matrix of black music, your criteria being that anything that meets with your approval is more profound than the rest. And to compound your misguided claims, you resort to discrediting others because they don't regard your opinions with awe. Nobody but a young self-absorbed played-out hip-hopper would espouse the idea that outgrowing Rap is anything other than mellowing with age. For somebody so "perceptive" you seem to have an awful hard time recognizing a generation gap.

I'd like to inject my 2-cents about age as it applies to the black music scene. Y’all have restricted your discussion to Rap, and I was content to sit back and listen and learn, until Nah’Sun very off-handedly asserted that the 1970s were the “golden age of black music.” and the first words that came to my mind were: “Oh, really?” His statement is typical of an element of younger people who tend to overlook or dismiss anything having to do with a time before they were born. I, myself, give R&B and Rap their props. I acknowledge their importance and their artistry. But so many younger people, if not clueless, are condescending about the type of black music of my day, the music that preceded Rap and R&B, - music that laid the groundwork for the next phase. Yeah, there are those who toss around names like “Miles” and “Trane” because it’s cool to do so, but the majority of them have no appreciation for jazz, or respect for the Blues. They consider the "swing" music of the big band era to be “corny”, ignorant of how influential the black instrumental artists of this time set the pace for what was being listened to back in the 1930s and 40s, - giants like Duke Ellington and Count Basie. They yawn at the sounds of the lush ballads of the 1950s with their exquisite lyrics, melodious tunes that comprise the “American songbook”, a repertoire that was interpreted and popularized by black vocalists like Nat Cole and Sarah Vaughn, and Ella Fitzgerald and Billy Ecstine. How many rappers know that the frenetic be-bop music of genuises like Charlie Parker were in the vanguard of free style as an art form. These "Johnny-come-latelys" think that black music begins and ends with what they are familiar with, and they are indifferent or even contemptible of any music that their pulse is not in synch with. This attitude, of course, is not unusual for people during a certain period of their life, and the phrase "to each his own" does, indeed, apply. My point, however, is that the wisdom to respect and appreciate things of the past is, more often than not, something that comes with age. Golden Age? In assessing the 1970s, this ol broad prefers a less exclusive choice of words, - a description that is more in keeping with the wide perspective that years have nurtured. “The 70s era was a facet in the jewel of black music.”

"...after a certain point things like who the hottest rap artists are fails to matter very much." That's where I am...with rap and pop and a whole host of other things. I would say age has everything to do with that. With age, in many (but not all) cases comes new experiences. I got older and my interests changed as I became exposed to different things. This isn't a bad thing and it doesn't mean I have anything against rap...I'm just saying that rap doesn't get me hyped up. It's just more entertainment - and we are bombarded with entertainment (much like some would say we're bombarded with street lit books...haha). Troy mentioned EMINEM and I can relate to that because I am one of those people who can honestly say that the last rapper that made me stop and listen and say "Oh okay! That's the ish right there!" was EMINEM. And I know there are talented individuals since him, but I just don't pay much attention. By the time 50 cent came along (for example) I was just kind of like, "Oh okay...that's hot," but it was a dull response. I never once thought about getting the cd and playing it in my car. But back in the late 80s, early 90s my friends and I couldn't wait to get our fathers' cars and bump some NWA and even Too Short, with his grimy, degrading lyrics! But, we grow. Our tastes change. Hell, I used to love McDonalds... Do you know that I didn't even know who Lady Gaga was until this year? (And I know that's not rap, but I'm just saying...) Another example: Lil Wayne. Now we all know this kid has mad talent. But had I not caught the episode of Lil Wayne's story on Behind the Music, I wouldn't even realize how much that kid has overcome. I love success stories like that. But again, had I not been watching TV, I would have never known - or cared. That's because I don't seek out rap music now the way I did in my teens and early twenties. So I think Troy's points regarding age are valid. Different strokes for different folks, but sometimes age really does play a factor in how we rate/value things...IMO.

So I had a twitter account. Had. So it turns out my daughter was wrong. I didn't LOVE it. I found it to be the biggest waste of time. I'm following people. They're following me. What? I don't get it. I could have been writing.