Is Barack Obama the Tony Soprano of Politics?

July 22nd, 2008 | By Sonnie Johnson

I wasn’t completely wrong in my assertion on Barack Obama, I just underestimated the Gangsta in him.

You think I’m being funny, I’m not. In the Mafia underworld there is a tier of power and at the top sits THE DON. Is it really that hard to make the comparison, we’ll here I go?

Don’t touch my Made Men

Everybody knows you can’t touch a Made Man. If you have a problem with that Made Man you go to the Don and ask his permission to handle your business, but if THE DON says no, keep your hands off.

Barack Obama has made Michelle Obama a Made Man. She is now cloaked in his protection. If anyone has something to say about Michell Obama, Barack is coming after you full force. Never mind she made herself a public figure by going out on the campaign trail and making comments that warrant reporting. Never mind that most Americans think the character of a First Lady matters. NO. NO. NO. THE DON says she is untouchable, so there she stands.

I decide the fate of my MADE MEN

If a MADE MAN becomes more trouble then their worth, THE DON will handle the situation.

When Jeremiah Wright was Barack Obama’s top seller, helping him get elected in Chicago, he was a MADE MAN. So when Wright’s comments became a media story, most reports waited to hear what THE DON had to say before voicing their own opinions. Then when he could not longer provide protection to Wright without compromising himself, he took away his status. Now everyone thinks Wright is the the LOON. Never mind the fact, Barack Obama said that he got most of his values and morals from this man. Never mind the fact, Barack Obama spent over twenty years in Trinity Church, got married there, and even let his children be baptized there. Wright is wrong because THE DON said so.

I wasn’t wrong, I was right

Incorrect assessments can lead to a power struggle, so THE DON can never be wrong.

Barack Obama is now in Iraq visiting the troops for the first time since he started to campaign for President. This will be the first time he has talked to the Generals on the Ground, and now he’s starting to imply the surge is working. Anyone who watches the news knows the surge it working. Everyday we don’t hear something about Iraq, we know were winning. Yet Barack Obama can’t bring himself to say, the country I love is winning in Iraq. Why?

Because the Don can’t be wrong. Even though he knows his main supporters aren’t going anywhere, he still refuses to state plain facts, because they contradict his original position. See, that’s gangsta, to know you’re wrong and have everyone to scared to call you on it. Gangsta.

Don’t question me

Even THE DON has to sit down to meetings he doesn’t want to. If another family has just as much power as your family, and they want to talk, you go and talk.

Now this really makes Barack Obama Gangsta. Fox News is the highest rated news network on cable T.V. That’s a fact. More people sit and watch O’Reily than all the other networks combined. Why hasn’t Barack Obama appeared on O’Reily, Hannity and Combs, not even a little sit down with Geraldo?

They would ask tough questions that Barack Obama would have to answer. Now you would think this far along in the campaign, Barack Obama could handle anything. He should be able to spit answers to any question asked of him. THE DON doesn’t want to speak, so he doesn’t. Never mind he is running to become President of the whole United States, not just the left wing that supports CNN and MSNBC. How about us independents that want real answers to real questions?

I’m THE DON

Let’s do a little run back. Don’t you talk bad about anyone close to me. Even though I’m surrounded by crooks, shady people, and far out preachers, don’t question my ability to judge another man’s character. My wife is off bounds, I don’t care what she does. I don’t care if they say we’re winning, I don’t want to fight. I don’t need to know what’s actually going on, if I’m wrong, I’ll say I was right when the smoke clears. And don’t you ask me any questions about my opinions, just believe in the CHANGE I stand for.

Tell me how that’s not Gangsta. The funny part, the American People love a good Gangsta.

P.S. It’s funny because there are different kinds of Gangsta. President Bush is a Gangsta, but he puts his money where is mouth is, and dares you to stand in his way. He is more concerned with his own ideals than the ideals of others. He is a respected Gangsta. You might not like him, but you gotta respect him.

Now Barack Obama is another type of Gangsta. He’s the type that only cares about the power. When it comes down to getting his hands dirty, he passes the buck. His opinions will change when the sentiment of his peers changes, not when common sense calls for it. It’s hard to respect a man, we you don’t know where he’ll stand tomorrow.

A BIG HOUSE REALITY: CHAPTER 2

July 21st, 2008 | By Sonnie Johnson

James sat in the office once occupied by his senior V.P. It had been six months since he had to sell his business to keep from going bankrupt. He was lucky the new owners saw some potential in him and kept him around. They even kept him as the CEO; the only difference was the office. He hated this office. His new office was occupied by Cindy Walsh, a perky little white woman that swept through like a hurricane.

She fired half his staff, dropped most of his long time customers, but managed to take the near bankrupt company into the black. James had owned Simmons programming for the last twelve years, and he needed seven of those years to turn a profit. Though it was meager, it was a profit none the less. He resented Ms. Cindy for doing what he could never do, in a shorter period of time. He resented her for the fast talking constantly moving people that now surrounded him. Most of all he resented himself for letting it happen.

The phone began to ring. He dreaded when the phone would ring these days, especially when the secretary didn’t buzz first.

“Simmons Programming, this is James Simmons can I help you.”

“You need to come home and get your son. He rigged the bathroom door to electrocute me when I touch it. You need to let him go away so he can stop doing things like this.”

He could hear Tom in the back round yelling over Shavon’s tears. “She got her pills and her vodka in there. She’s alright”

“Come get this boy before I kill him.”

“I know more ways to kill you. Maybe I’ll just up the wattage. What do you think Ma?”

“I’m sure he’ll let you out if you calm down. I don’t know what you did to provoke him this time, but don’t call me.”

“I did nothing to provoke him, he’s the devil. You have to come get him before he really hurts me.”

“Hurt you. Tell him what you did to Julie. Tell him how you called her a slut and pushed her down the steps. Tell him that, while you’re crying about me.”

“Where’s Julie?”

“She ran her fast ass out of here, probably at one of those little boys house.”

“I’ll be home soon just calm down.” He hung up and called Tom on his cell phone.

“Dad…”

“Up the wattage, I’ll be home late tonight. Oh yeah, remember to unplug the phone this time.” He hung up.

The phone rang again. “Daddy, what time you getting off today?”

“I was just about to call you. You alright?”

“I’m fine. It wasn’t as bad as Mason made it out to be. Wanna get something to eat?”

“Scants in thirty minutes?”

“See you there.”

The phone rang again.

“What?” he shouted into the receiver.

“Mr. Simmons, this Wendy Watchman from FR productions. Is this a bad time?”

“No. I’ve been waiting to hear from you. I mean you just send us a check and then nothing.”

“Sorry we were having a little trouble with our financial backers, but know we have a perfect location reserved for two weeks from now. That won’t be a problem will it?”

“No problem. I own my own business I can take off when I want.”

“I must stress that the agreement is only valid if your entire family shows.”

“No problem. I have a wonderful family. I know you’re just going to love them.”

“And you’re sure that you have kept confidentiality?”

“I’ve told no one. My family will just think we’re going on vacation

“Great, all the information you need will be delivered by email. I look forward to meeting you and your family.”

James hung up the phone and let the smile masked his pain slide away. He would have cried but he was meeting Julie and she could always tell. He told his secretary he was leaving for the day, and purposely walked the long route, so not to pass his old office. He missed his office.

David Banner: Comments From B.E.T.

July 20th, 2008 | By Sonnie Johnson

If you’ve read Top 10 Hip-hop’ers with Swag, you’ll know I placed David Banner on the list because of the intelligence he displayed when speaking to Congress. He had notes and demonstrated his points articulately and I appreciated it (not that I didn’t expect it). So many probably thought they would hurt their careers by standing in a Congressional Meeting Hall.

That’s not the only reason I give David Banner props. I have a lot to say about the disaster in New Orleans, like why would the people re-elect Nagin when all the buses were just sitting there, I digress. But more importantly, when Kanye West was on T.V. making an ass out of himself, David Banner was on a boat trying to help save people. While all other black people were at home complaining, David Banner was donating more than a couple dollars, he gave his time, his words, and hope to a lot of people and for that I say thank you.

But that’s were the compliments stop.

Recently on B.E.T.’s Hip-Hop vs. America, David Banner pissed me off. Just once I would like to see a Hip-Hop brother come on with no excuses. Instead Banner had them written down and spouted ignorance at the highest levels. Let’s have some fun.

It’s not my job to raise your children

David Banner, I don’t want to raise my child. I do that. That’s my responsibility. But I want my daughter to love Hip-Hop. Can you help me with that? Can I let my daughter hear your song, cuss words and all, because it makes a point? When she understands what you’re talking about, will she grow in some way?

When I was in High School, my teacher had a sign that said, “It takes a village to raise a child.” I believe Hip-Hop is our village, yet the elders preach selling drugs, fast fleeting money, admonishment for “Squares”. What about those of us who look to Hip-hop for culture, opportunities, or just a place to forget our pain. We got money too, make us a target audience.

They are in the Streets crying for help

That was the only part of David Banners speech that I agreed with. I was excited so I sent an email out to my male friends, and they ALL wrote back “I’m still in my fuck the world stage.” This coming from 20 something year old men. They don’t want help because if they get it and educate themselves they get picked on, by us.

We don’t give them the time to struggle, make mistakes and correct them, and finally succeed. If they don’t have it right away, they get clowned. Girls say that want a man with a plan, but if he don’t have a Range Rover we don’t give them the time of day.

I believe Black Men and Women are in the streets crying. I don’t believe they know why they are crying. Life is hard. I know. My mom would’ve rather smoked crack than raise me. I lived with my dad, but I couldn’t tell you one thing he taught me. I made it important to educate myself. I wanted more.

So, maybe they are crying because they want it too. They just don’t know, we, as black people, want them to have more. All they hear is reasons they can’t make it from people who’ve made it.

What about Martin Scorsese? Nobody points to his Gansta Movies

Everybody might have watched his movies, but most black people wouldn’t know it was his movie. I don’t pay attention to things like that. Furthermore, when we’re talking about problems in the black community, what the hell does Scorsese have to do with it? Last time I checked he was white.

White people are not killing themselves at alarming rates. White people don’t have the highest death by A.I.D.S. statistics. White people have so much variety, a couple of gansta movies don’t affect public persona.

Every rap song these days talks about money and cars, most black people can’t afford. Drugs, most black people have someone addicted to drugs in their family. Fucking, some black women think they can’t make they’re own money, they go after dealers, artists, and sports stars to get ahead. It might not have originated in our culture, but we’ve grabbed on to it and embraced it, like it’s a good thing. And David Banner had more to do with writing that script than Martin Scorsese did.

I tried positive music, but it didn’t sell

Then you are a compromised artist. That was your way of telling us, you don’t believe what you rap, that makes you fake. See, I thought the thing about gangsta’s is they always tell the truth, whether someone want to hear it or not. Where’s your backbone?

Oh, I get it. It’s not about a backbone, it’s about that money. So fuck the fact that you could continue to put out positive music to help those black people you hear crying in the streets, just make sure you got money. Then you can give that money back to the streets. Don’t you realize you can’t separate the message from the money. Which leads me to my last point.

I’m not a role model

Taking into account everything I’ve already written, how can you not be a role model? David Banner undoubtedly has begun a path most artist would shy away from. That makes you a role model. Those people you helped rescue will look up to you as a role model. Women like me, who might not fully agree, look to you more than the Jesse Jackson’s and Al Sharton’s of our communities.

We love Hip-Hop. It’s not just music. It’s a billion dollar industry. It’s our melting pot for ideas, healing, and advancement in all fields. If we could get artist that think that role model is not a bad word. Live your life right and make your words match your true feelings, and it shouldn’t matter if other look to you for inspiration. Those that don’t want to be called role models, more than likely, don’t agree with music they make. I can’t imagine Mary J Blige telling black girls not to learn from her struggles and successes. Where are the Men that are willing to stand up and say “follow me little black boy, and I’ll show you how to get out the ghetto?”

For feeling this way, I’ve been called some pretty horrible names, but I don’t care. See it’s not just about making money for me. I do want money, but I have my limits. I will not whore myself, nor will I encourage other black women to whore themselves. I will not preach excuses. Yes, there are still racist people in America, but I don’t care. They can’t stop me, because I won’t let them. I will not support artist that never have a single nice thing to say about a woman, nor will I support artists that have wives at home, and sing about being a pimp. I will not be compromised. I know that makes my road harder, but I figure if I keep to my morals, some black girl or boy will see it and say that’s how I’m going to do it.

Do I want to be a role model? No. Will I take the job? Yes. With all my faults, I would still preach the same message. YOU CAN DO IT. What ever “it” is. I could tell you a million reason you won’t make it, but how is that helping? Instead I’ll say it’s not easy, I know, but damn is it worth it.

A Time For Change: Chapter 1

July 19th, 2008 | By Sonnie Johnson

I shouldn’t have come. Everything in me said go home before something bad happens. Something bad always happens to me. I can never go out and just have a good time.

“Come on, let’s grab a table,” Trish exclaimed as she grabbed my arm and pulled me through the hoards of mother’s that left their kids with god knows who, trying to find one of this men who haven’t seen their kids since their baby’s mama took them to court for not paying child support. God I hate people. Here I was in the middle of the most desperate of them. I shot a tense smile at Trish as I snatched my arm from her grasp. Go home Sky, go home.

Trish jumped into a booth just as a big sista was about to sit down.

“Sorry, taken” she said with a smile on her face. I stepped up and took a seat next to Trish. Big sista was dressed to the T. She wore an all black Armani suit with a pair of heels over 6 inches. Every hair was in place, and her make-up looked like Picasso had painted it. She was sharp, and by the look on her face she was also mad.

Two skinny girls walked up behind her. Neither had half the class of big sista. The one in the bright red and yellow tube top leaned over and whispered into big sista’s ear, which caused her to look at me with a long hard pause.

“Why don’t you sit down and have a drink?” I said as I returned the glance that all three were now shooting at me.

“Okay” said big sista as she slid into the booth opposite Trish. Her two flunkies attempted to scoot in, until both big sista and I focused those glances on them. Bright red and yellow tube top pushed bright yellow and red tube top into the sea of dancing idiots until they disappeared.

“I’ll go and get us some drinks. Rum and coke?” Trish asked.

“Make sure it’s Bacardi white, please.” I replied.

“And you?”

“She isn’t staying,” I said cutting off Big Sista. Trish shrugged her shoulders and disappeared into the crowd. Big sista told me what she wanted and I gave her instructions on how to get it. Then I told her I needed her i.d. She looked reluctant then pulled it out without making me ask twice. I liked her swagger, and returned it in kind by not looking at it. I nodded my head and big sista got up and left. For someone who never left the house I had a face that was to easy to recognize.

Trish came back and put my drink on the table. That was why I could chill with her. She just went with the flow. Never too many questions, and when something went down she wasn’t scared to swing. My nigga.

I grabbed my drink and took it down quick. Then I offered to go and get refills. Trish looked surprised, but didn’t say anything just nodded her head. I got up and tried to make my way to the bar. Then I spotted Travis. He saw me and pushed the skank shaking her ass in front of him out the way. She looked disgusted when she turned to see who had caught his attention. She looked at me, and her face dropped. I shook my head and she lowered her eyes and made a hasty get away.

“What is up?” Travis slurred through the gold teeth encasing his mouth.

“Two rum and cokes to my table please.”

“Anything else?’

“Yeah, stop calling my house after 11:00. I like you, but I really hate repeating myself. We clear.”

“Yes ma’am.” He said as he turned and walked away. His whispered bitch under his breath, but as long as he kept it under his breath, I’d let him keep his breath. I turned to walk back to the table when I noticed Trish’s sister had arrived with her 2 stooges. The booth was now full and I was not about to squeeze in, so I stood at the table until one of them had the sense to get up.

Lisa, Trish’s sister grabbed crony number ones hand and they went off dancing. Crony number two was at the table trying to cover her black eye. I said nothing as I sat down. I had met both cronies before, but they were never important enough to remember their names. Go home Sky, go home.

Travis came to the table carrying 4 little tumblers. He placed them all in front of me and began to bat his eyes.

“Come and check on me a couple times and I’ll call you when I’m leaving.”

“You the best” then he walked right back to the skank he was with earlier and she just smiled and started to shake her ass on him again. I shook my head with the same disgust she had shown me only moments earlier. I hadn’t had sex in 2 years and now I remembered why. I slid two tumblers to Trish and drank one of mine like it was a shot. My insides began to warm and my shoulders to relax. I picked up the second tumbler and took a small sip. Trish and Crony number two had been talking since I had come back to the table, but I couldn’t focus on their conversation because I just didn’t care.

“What would you do, Sky?”

“Huh”

“How would you get a man to stop hitting you?”

I laughed out loud. I mean real loud. It even caught Travis’ attention which allowed me to motion to him for another drink. I tried to control my laughter and it was made a lot easier when I saw the look on Trish’s face. I stopped my banter as I tried to figure out what I was reading on Trish. She looked serious and stern; I had never seen that look before.

“Come on, you’re great at giving advice. What would you do?”

“Do about what?” Lisa asked as she scooted in beside me. I turned and stared her dead in her face; she scooted out and told Trish to move.

“I don’t want your opinion I was asking Sky. What would you do?” I didn’t like the way Trish was pushing this on me. So I figured I’d break some of the promises I had made to her before we left my apartment.

“Okay first of all, one of the first things I tell a man when we meet is ‘If you ever hit me I’ll kill you’ and I mean it. Second, you have to be tired and then you have to be tired of being tired. And until you get there, there’s nothing else that can be done.”

“What would you do when you’re tired of being tired?” That was it. Trish was tired of being tired. The thing was I never knew she had a reason to be tired. I thought she and her boyfriend had a really great relationship. Her eyes pleading for a response made me mad. She’s a dummy. How could I have been so wrong? Well here comes a reality check.

I turned and looked at crony number 2. “Are you tired of being tired?” She shook her head yes. I grabbed crony number 2 and punched her in her unbruised eye. She jumped up, fist balled into knots. “I bet when he hits you, you fall into a fetal position. I can bring more harm to you than he ever could. So if you can fight me back, why can’t you fight him?” Lisa was now behind the booth warning crony number 2 that she didn’t want it with me. “Sit down. She’s a grown ass woman she doesn’t need you to tell her what to do.” I guess the beat down I had put on Lisa when we first meet still rang fresh in her mind.

“You’re my size. He’s too big.” She still had her fist in knots, but I knew she had no intention of swinging on me. She wanted me to tell her how to fix her pathetic life; she wanted me to be her savoir.

“Unclench your fist and have a seat. What is your name?”

“Samantha, but them call me Sam.”

“Well hypothetically, I would make my man a good dinner. Make sure I fixed all his favorites. I’d do nothing that made him mad, just be a good little girl.” I felt myself slipping back to all the scenarios I had played out in my head. “Then I’d run him a shower and tell him to get ready for a terrific night. While he was in the shower I would slip into something real sexy and wait for him to come out. I’d strap him to the bed and well then you could just imagine the possibilities.” I was staring blankly at my empty rum and coke. I picked up the class and tasted the watered down soda in my cup. I snapped my head around trying to locate Travis, but instead HE was there, staring at me.

I turned back towards the girls who were now laughing at my plan, all but Trish who looked like she had more questions she wanted to ask. I saw the pain she was in, but it was nothing compared to what I was feeling. Had something gone wrong? Was Flake ok? No. Can’t deal with this right now.

“Trish, honey, I gotta go.”

“Okay, but I’ve gotta talk to you soon. Don’t forget.”

“Never would. Gotta go.

I rushed out of the club, and straight into a cab. His being here couldn’t be a good thing. Had the time come already? Was it finally time for me to go home.

A Black Man’s Words

July 19th, 2008 | By Sonnie Johnson

Word spoken from my Father’s drunken lips

Eclipse any words spoken by another

Given the Source

You’d think I’d enforce, a notion to rediscover

If the facts He’d teach and the words He’d preach

Would help me to reach, his destinatioon

Maybe a Black Man’s Word isn’t for me

But it’s what I see

Lose in excuses, traumatized by abuses

Segregation

Degradation

Procrastination

Those are a Black Man’s Words

They cause

Stagnation

Aggrevation

Procrastination

Eventually total Annihilation

Not in existence

But in dreams

Cuz I’m here, A Black Man

Lost in excuses, traumatized by abuses

Standing in front of you with words

And Dreams

Dreams filled with

Motivation

Determination

Perspiration

Leading to an Allocation of Hope

That’s all I have

Hopes, Dreams, and a Black Man’s Words

This is a short from my Stage Play.

Jesse Jackson,The N Word, and The View

July 19th, 2008 | By Sonnie Johnson

Growing up, I never heard the word nigger used in my house. I lived in the Ghetto with my mother and if she heard me say that word she would have knocked my teeth down my throat. Then I moved with my Dad and he never used the N word. He never showed he didn’t like white people, but he had no white friends and didn’t make much conversation when white people were around.

It wasn’t used in my household, but it was used by my friends. We used it to be hurtful and we used it to show love. That’s why there are two different spellings. Nigger, that’s the word you use to be disrespectful. Nigga, that’s the word you use for your friends.

Now with the controversy of Jesse Jackson using the N word to describe Barack Obama, there is a public uproar. It’s not the word that’s the problem, it’s the use of the word by a so called Black Leader. As I have said before just because you’re famous doesn’t make you a leader, and until we start to hold them accountable, they will continue to make money off our suffering.

Jesse Jackson knows his ability to profit will fall if Barack Obama becomes president. How can he champion for equality when there is a black man in the Oval Office. They hate him. I don’t agree with Barack’s policy, but I love the message he gives to the black community. There is nothing we can’t accomplish.

The View

If you were to ask me today, who is my favorite actress, Whoopi Goldberg. Hands down. Color Purple, Jumping Jack Flash, Sarafina, these are some of my favorite movies. So I question. If we live in different worlds, How did your tar black ass get into acting over 20 years ago. I know conditions have to be better than when you started your career.

It all comes to excuses. I don’t care if a white person uses the word. You can’t stop me with a word. You can’t hurt me with a word. I’m more upset by black men referring to me as a bitch because I won’t have sex with them. That hurts me. A white person calling me a Nigger let’s me know where they stand, and I have no problem with that.

My comrads say I’m crazy for thinking like that. “If a white person calls me a Nigger, I’m going to fuck him up.” You go do that, and when you’re in hand cuffs over a word, don’t blame it on being black. Blame it on ignorance, from your end. If someone calls you a nigger and doesn’t hire you, why would you want to work there? If someone calls you a nigger while in their store, why would you continue to shop there? If someone calls you a nigger out it street, have you not been called worse?

Mostly, I don’t mind if white people use it, because I use it. I still use it’s negative form and it’s positive form. Jesse Jackson is a Nigger. The ignorant man that steps on people the same color as him to help him get ahead. Barack Obama is not a Nigger, because he doesn’t make excuses, he tells you to stand up for yourself. Neither is my Nigga, because I don’t personally know either one.

You can’t have my words, but I don’t have the right to take words from you either. If as a culture we decide the word is acceptable, then let it be acceptable. If we can’t break the cycle of using it in our own communities, then we have to accept the consequences. That’s the reality.

We can’t continue to ask for double standards, when we want complete unity. What makes us so special as black people that we get to make up our own rules?

I want to apologize to Elizabeth Hasselbeck. Your ability to sit on that stage and have them tell you, we have rights you don’t, and take it. I applaud you. The only problem is we don’t want solutions. If we have solutions, then what could we complain about.

It’s really funny to see two black women on one of the most highly debated T.V. shows complain about inequality. It’s even funnier to have one of the those black woman tell a white woman something she can’t say. I want to hear Elizabeth Hasselbeck tell Whoopi, you can’t talk about white people, because you date white men. How much of a fire storm would that cause? I bet Whoopi could even find an excuse to talk her way out of that one.

In short, you hold on to the hate behind that word. I’ll let it go, because unless your my Nigga, it matters not to me.

Interview With A.J.: New Neo-Soul Artist

July 18th, 2008 | By Sonnie Johnson

Wanna Hear some Music

Mix a Neo-Soul, a live band, and an exciting new Artist, and a whole new sound could be on the horizon for Hip-Hop.

It was rather refreshing when I got to sit down and have a conversation with A.J.

As you know, I love words. So I asked the Richmond, Va native, what words were getting him through his journey to get signed. With a contemplation I didn’t expect, he answered “If you want to know something is being done, do it yourself.” Intrigued by his thoughtfulness I jumped right in.

What’s the first kind of music you remember hearing?

Gospel.

You were in the church choir?

Yeah. (He was very hesistant)

Not your idea?

No, you know my mother made me, but I liked it.

The eternal question, When did you fall in love with Hip-Hop?

It wasn’t until high school. Donell Jones “Knocks me off my feet”. That’s I how I realized I could carry a note. I’d sing in the shower, then in the mirror, and I realized I could sing.

Before we get into your music, let’s talk a little about Hip-Hop as a whole. What do you think about radio being dominated by “Dance Songs”?

There’s always been music like that. If I was 15 I would probably be “Crankin that Soulja Boy” but I’m a grown man and I have different taste.

What about the lyrics, or should I say lack there of?

Today more rappers care about rhyming. I mean putting together words that rhyme, instead of words that have meaning. It’s a lot easier to find big words that rhyme with other big words, than it is to think of a purpose and write towards it.

Okay, so who is the best lyricist out right now?

Common. “Go” that’s what Lyricist should strive for.

Are you upset that Common didn’t get the same airplay as a lot of less deserving , less tested Artist?

Not really, because it’s the younger kids that call in and request songs. As adults, most of us have C.D. collections, so when we want to hear a certain song, Bam. But kids depend on the radio, and they request the songs.

Now another issue in Hip-Hop, the role of Women. What do you think?

There are to few women, but the one’s that manage to stay relevant don’t show their ass to the world. Mary J., Jill Scott, Eryka Badu, those women have followings. Their fans know what date their album is coming out and are going to get it that day. That’s on the R&B side. There’s not really been a great female emcee since Lauryn Hill stopped rapping.

So your not going to give me a reason to argue with you about anything, Huh?

Why you want to argue with me?

I’ll get to that later? What about more Artist creating their own Indy labels? More Artist with Ownership?

That’s the way it has to be. If you want to do something new or different, don’t expect to get any help. The people at the top of major labels won’t give you the time of day. I’ve seen it. They’ll be excited to meet you until they see the C.D. in your hand. Then their whole body language changes.

You become successful, do you mind wearing the badge “Role Model”?

Kinda funny question. I know when I was younger, I wanted to hear all the negative stuff. The harder the music the harder I bumped it. Now it’s just about living my life right, and if someone decides to use me as a role model, fine.

I think it’s wonderful you don’t think of the word like a curse. So let’s talk about your music.

Wow.

You sound so excited.

I am. It’s totally different. I just started working with a live band. It’s a lot different in the performing and recording aspect. I’m used to hearing a track, going in the studio, and singing it out. But with a band, each player has to record his individual parts, then they’re put together. And when you get on stage and the musicians are behind you, you get so much more energy.

How did you meet “The Band”?

I was recording in Fredericksburg, Va and I ran into one of the members. We got to talking, he liked what he heard and I liked what I heard. So we started practicing.

Did you run to any problems trying to fuse to different sounds?

Music is a unspoken language. If you love music, you can always communicate and make it work. I love traditional R&B, but I want to carve out my own niche.

I got the “Follow Me To Heaven” short. Is that the first song you recorded with the band?

Yeah. I learned so much making that song, it’s probably be my favorite for quite a while. It’s versatile. It’s clean conservative music. Safe, but exciting. You know, something you can step to.

When can we expect the complete video?

I got some students from V.C.U. to put it together, and you can expect it in two weeks.

Where do you plan on launching?

I was hoping I could bring it to you.

I was hoping you’d say that. My favorite song of yours’ is “Time 2 Go.” Why are you laughing?

Every female asks me about that song. It was just a really personal experience I had to get out. Relieve so stress.

So, you wrote it yourself?

Yeah. It took me about three days.

Did you feel better afterwards?

Not really. (Laughs) It felt good to write a song about it, and get it out……….but you only get a couple loves you know are 100% just for you. It hurts when you know one is gone.

Did you cry a lot?

I don’t want everyone to know I was crying, but I’ll be man enough to admit, it took a lot out of me.

We’ll love you more for saying that. What did the mystery woman have to say when she heard it?

“Was that about me?” I haven’t seen her since.

Let’s lift the mood back up. So A.J. makes it. You’re a chart topper. Where’s the first place you go on tour?

Germany. They love Hip-Hop more there than we do here. Most Artist tour overseas first to get all the bugs and kinks out of their show before bringing it to the U.S. It makes a U.S. tour so much easier.

I didn’t know that. Is music your only passion?

Acting. I’d love to be a leading man in a love story.

No Tela Tequila, or I Love New York?

No way. I think one of the most important things we’ve forgotten is how to court.

Court? I haven’ t heard that word used in that text since I was 16.

Well, I’m going to bring it back. The little things. Holding hands, bring flowers, a serenade. Those are the things I want to bring back.

I’ve taken quite a bit of your time, tell me something you want me to know.

I want my music to make people smile. Whether you can relate or not, when you’re having that bad day, I want to help raise your spirits. When you want to dance, I want to put that swagger in your step. When you go to push play, I want it to be my C.D.

My thoughts

I let him escape on that note. It was rather interesting though, because after the interview we sat and talked for a moment. He wanted to explain the concept of his new sound. Then we got the subject of his video. In the cameo, his main two focuses are a white girl and a heavy set girl. He had received a lot of flack from black women. They wanted to know why he choose those two women.

He answered to me, “Those women were fully dressed and still sexy. The skanks and hoes of all colors are represented in other videos. I want to highlight all women. I want to be different. One white girl in my video, doesn’t mean I date only white girls, but if I did, what would be wrong with that?”

I can find an argument in anything, but today I was happy I didn’t have to. I had a intelligent conversation with a focused, determined, hard working black man, that didn’t offer excuses or look for someone to blame. I now have belief that some of our brothers are just as appalled as we are to the images of sisters, period. No matter the color.

Mostly, I have faith that Hip-Hop isn’t dead. It’s growing slowly, under the surface, and one day we will have a spectrum of Artist with new styles, fresh sounds, and music that matters.

When You Know You’re Wrong

July 17th, 2008 | By Sonnie Johnson

So many times, we know the right thing to say and do, but we do the opposite. We blame it on circumstance, when it’s really just selfishness. We want immediate gratification, knowing there will be a penalty in the end.

Even worse, we turn from God when we’re ashamed of the decisions we’ve made. That’s the time when we need him most. To fill of hearts with enough compassion to know that another decision is coming and it’s chance at redemption. What will you do next time you know you’re wrong?

“The strongest principle of growth lies in human choice” George Eliot (1819-1880)

LYNCHING AND THE BLACK COMMUNITY

July 12th, 2008 | By Sonnie Johnson

From the days of slavery, lynching was used as a scare tactic. My sister even told me that’s where we get the word Picnic. The Good Ol’ Boys would pick a nigger to hang and eat as they watched him die. Pic a Nic. Get it.

Don’t be stupid and think I think slavery was a good thing. I don’t. I think it was a part of history, and it had to happen to get us to where we are today.

Having said that. After the Civil War, many slaves rose up to punish their Masters’. There were numerous deadly attacks in which former slaves lashed out. This scared the White People so much they got posses together and lynching became the most powerful weapon they had. (Remember: “THE MOST POTENT WEAPON IN THE HAND OF THE OPPRESSOR IS THE MIND OF THE OPPRESSED.” )

Slaves with newly given rights were fully aware that the laws still did not apply fairly. So when one of theirs were strung from a tree, they gathered around him, prayed for him, and gave him a proper burial. It didn’t matter if he was guilty of the crime of which they accused him, it only mattered that THEY did it.

Fast forward to now.

We still have a slave mentality.

We still rush to the aid of any black person we see, even if we know they are wrong.

The difference.

Former slaves were lynched for crimes committed against white people. They were not given trials or even a chance to have their day in court. Even the guilty deserve that. So it’s understandable to rally when you see numerous grave injustices carried out.

Modern day, everyone gets their day in court. So that natural urge to rally, should be used when there are true injustices. Instead we rally to those we know are wrong. Those that commit crimes against our own people.

I gathered many examples. I planned on listing them all, instead though, I want you to think about it. I know you know some one that has done some fucked up shit, but when they get caught, “The police is always fucking with a brother.”

The sad part is we empower our young black men and women to be victims. We say “they locked him up cause he was black”, not paying any consideration to the black family he robbed, the black sister he beat, or the black boy he killed for some stupid reason.

We want stories of cops beating black men all over the T.V. because then we can stand up and protest. Why don’t we protest for the black boys that join gangs because all the other little black boys beat him or rob him. Why don’t we protest for all the sister’s that are having babies and taking care of them when the brothers turn their backs.

We don’t want those stories, because then we would have to examine ourselves. Then we would see that we hold some accountability in our current situation. Then we could actually make positive change.

A Lynching Mentality

It doesn’t matter what he did, I like him so the police shouldn’t have fucked with him!

Problem with that: It’s only a matter of time before the things he does could affect the ones you love. Think about it. He robs someone, comes to visit you, someone see him, and they come back and shot up your house. Who’s culpable?

They hemmed him up for some shit he didn’t do!

Problem with that: He got away with all the other shit. Hello. You complain when some one pays their way out of a crime, but not when some uses the race card. How many bad things does someone have to do before it’s just better for them to be off the street. The government uses technicalities to arrest people all the time when they can’t be found guilty on the primary charges. A killer doesn’t belong on the street even if they were only arrested him for a robbery.

They want to lock niggers up

Problem with that: Most states would love to cut a huge chunk of their budget and close state prisons. Some states spend more on Prisons’ than they do on Education. We have to realize, crime costs. Not just the victims of the crime, but the cities and states that have to investigate, prosecute, and the incarcerate criminals. It also cost the citizens that live in the state. Higher insurance rates in heavy auto theft regions. Reduced public programs to pay for additional police in high crime areas. The only people this benefits is those politicians that use race as a platform. And we re-elect them on this platform, even though our communities continue to get worse. I digress.

The whole point!

A BIG HOUSE REALITY: CHAPTER 1

July 12th, 2008 | By Sonnie Johnson

It’s been nine months since the first trees began to fall on my Grandma’s farm. I imagined what it must have been like, growing up with nothing but your family to take care of you. Eating only what you grew or raised was a foreign concept to a city girl like myself. I spent some time with my grandma in the original house before the construction began, and I loved watching as she maneuvered around knowing exactly where everything is located. The way she had everyday planned out, yet still managed to spend time naming the new baby ducks. She was at peace here, and I knew how much she was giving up for her family.

I sat in the car and looked at the magnificent estate being built around me. I had been over every plan for every room a thousand times. I constantly roamed the property making sure there were reminders of the farm in every nook and cranny. I didn’t spend long on the farm, but it was the closest I ever got to a happy home.

The gently knocking at my window startled me. I turned to see a sexy gardener motioning me to roll down my window. I did, but found it hard to concentrate with his shirtless chest at eye level. I managed to hear him say Stacey had just left and ok’d the final plant selections for the garden. I told him to leave the garden for last, because Grandma wanted to supervise the project. I watched him walk away until he disappeared behind the Rose bushes. I looked up and saw grandma in the window laughing.

She made a sweeping motion like talking on the phone, and gave the inquisitive eyes. I motioned no, she flashed the disappointed eyes, then disappeared behind the curtains. I sat there with two choices, make the call from the car or make the call from the house and grandma’s watchful eyes. I dialed the first phone number I ever learned and the only number I know I’ll never forget. The phone rang two times before I heard my mother’s normal chipper tone, and the lisp in her speech assured me dad was still the same.

“Hi, Mom. How are you?”

“Mary, I’m glad to hear all is well with you, let me get your brother.”

“No mom, I would like to talk to you.”

“You know I can’t do that. Goodbye Mary.” She hung up. There was nothing. I knew the feeling and I didn’t understand why it surprised me. She had always been that way. Why was I not surprised, an even better question, why did it hurt so much?”

I looked out the window again and let the beauty of the things around me sink in, and I let her go. I decided to go for a walk. I heard they delivered my horse today. Nothing is going to bring me down today. All the pieces were in place, and soon my grandmothers dreams are going to be realized. Soon my dreams were going to be realized.

I got out the car and stretched and inhaled the fresh air. Yeah, I think I’m going to love it here.