#you know who else was a pimp? ice t

[feralseraph]

People discovering that Kobe Bryant was a rapist is like when people discover snoop dogg was a pimp and tupac was a rapist.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

august

pairing: sheriff lee bodecker x younger! reader

warnings: cheating, age gap

a/n: i wanted to write this chapter to show how y/n’s and lee’s affair began and to show how y/n shaped lee or his point of view. this song is mostly based off august from taylor swift (bc we all know at this point that i’ll just write fanfics based of any folklore/evermore songs) and war of hearts from ruelle. this one is not smut, the next one (illicit affairs) is gonna be.  additionally, i’ve come to the conclusion that knockemstiff y/n dressed like betty draper and after-knockemstiff y/n dresses likes meg draper and that is canon. btw if you’re interested in what she’s wearing in this chapter here [x] p.s.: lee’s not captain yet in this chapter

> ILLICIT AFFAIRS

Salt air and the rust on your door, I never needed anything more. Whispers of are you sure? Never have I ever before. But I can see us lost in the memory, August slipped away into a moment in time ‘cause it was never mine

August was an odd month this year; the godless and sunless town was going through the biggest heatwave anyone could remember. Most habitants were in the parks and outside their homes in plastic chairs enjoying the heat, however, in Y/N’s house, they were baking apple pies with the apples leftover from the little apple tree farm they had a bit south from the town centre. Y/N had suggested they just gave away the apples but her grandmother, ever the traditional woman, believed the best way to show appreciation would be to bake something. “It shows you care, Y/N” as if she cared about anyone in this god forbidden town. She couldn’t wait to pack her bags and go to the big city where she can be something other than a trophy wife. Besides, it wasn’t like there were any available suitable husband options around. 

She wiped the flour out of her forehead as she placed the last pie in the oven. 24 pies, surely that would account for a high electricity bill at the end of the month. Not that it mattered anyway, her grandmother could more than afford it after all she was the woman right now sat at the kitchen table, giving out plates as if they cost nothing. 

     - Y/N, sweetheart, can you go and deliver the pie on the living room. It’s already cold and I don’t want it to go stale.

     - Yeah, sure. 

     - To Captain Bodecker’s house. Promised Jane I’d send her one. 

     - Captain Bodecker’s? But that’s in town. - she scratched her elbows. She’d rather not go to Captain Bodecker’s house yet again he probably wasn’t even around, always busy in the station. - Can I take the car?

     - It’s a 20 minute walk, it’s sunny outside and you’re young. Save on gas.

     - But ...

     - Y/N, you better be outside with that pie in 5 seconds or we’ll have a problem. - she interrupted.

Y/N sighed, unlacing the back of her apron and placing it on the hook. Just great, that’s all she needed today, to walk to the town centre to deliver one of the pies she had just spent the whole morning preparing. She guessed it could’ve been worse, she could’ve had to go deliver it to the police station then Captain Bodecker would’ve definitely been there. It wasn’t that she disliked him, quite the opposite. Back when she volunteered at the precinct he was the only one who was nice to her or at least the only one who wouldn’t try to put his hand under her skirt. He’d even memorised her name which not even the Sheriff who had hired her knew, to this day whenever he saw her he still called her Bella. He was nice to her and she couldn’t say she hadn’t developed a little school girl crush on him, despite the fact he was married. He’d even stood up for her when her manager started screaming at her. Nevertheless, she couldn’t stand being in his presence, feeling like whatever she said would get her in trouble. His wife wasn’t someone she enjoyed either; Jane Bodecker was known for having quite the sharp gossiping tongue. Most of her friends commented their “men friends” would comment how she used to have quite the reputation while at high school and whenever she saw her at the shop, she’d always call her Little Miss Perfect or make some side comment about how she was occupying a job that someone else needed. Still, Y/N could deal with Jane, a little smile, a nod and she was ready to deal with the devil.

The sun scorched her skin as she walked her last minutes til the Bodecker residence. It was a nice home, recently painted with some nice flowers in the front garden yet there were rumours of Captain Bodecker wanting to move to Brewer Heights. Y/N didn’t know how she’d react if during her morning walks she passed by him, so she counted it only as rumours. Standing in front of the red door, she held the pie in one hand and knocked against it with the other one. She stood there waiting for someone to come in until footsteps made her wake up from her dream-like state and prepare to deal with Jane. However, as the door open, a familiar silhouette had her heart racing. 

    - Y/N, what brings you here? - she watched him dressed in casual clothing, something she barely saw if she had ever seen; jeans and a white t-shirt. 

   - Captain Bodecker ... I ... I was looking for your wife. My grandmother sent this. - she held up the pie in front of her.  - She said Mrs. Bodecker wanted one. 

   - Jane’s ... out. Come in. - he opened the door wider for her but she remained in the same place like a statue. - Come on, it’s too hot out. Don’t want no fainting lass complains on my day off. ‘Sides, don’t you want a slice of pie?

   - I really shouldn’t.

   - You can say no if you want to. No need to be afraid of me, Y/N. - he leaned against the doorframe. - Thank you for the pie, though. 

   - I guess I can stay a bit. - she tucked a bit of hair behind her ear. Lee couldn’t help but shamelessly check her out as she walked inside his home. It was no secret she was a beautiful woman, heck, Lee thought her to be the prettiest little thing to ever arrive into town, with her sunny smile and pretty dresses. This one was no different, lavender which complimented her so well with a little white rope tied around her waist into a bow, like a little present. Nevertheless, he kept it under wraps he was a married man besides every man in town shamelessly harassed her, despite the side eye he gave them.

He watched as the fabric of her dress swung with the movement of her hips. Lee surely didn’t expect such a pretty girl to walk into his home, had he known he would’ve made an effort to fix the mess that was his house. Normally Jane tended to keep that sorted as he usually spent the day and night at work, but with her staying with her mother after their last fight. It wasn’t anything new, she always did that whenever they fought and then would return after Lee made a fool of himself by begging her to return and that he was wrong during the fight. Still, she placed the pie on his kitchen table with a gentleness and posture which mirrored her privileged upbringing. He couldn’t lie and say his mind hadn’t wandered around how she would look when she eventually got married, after all that was the future of all Knockemstiff women. He also couldn’t lie and say he hadn’t wondered how she would look as his wife. She was sweet, with a sharp mind which definitely had not been appreciated in the precinct. Despite this, productivity seemed to raise whenever she called out any officers who had their feet on top of their desks instead of doing paperwork. He still remembered having to always keep an eye on her, were any officers to get too rowdy with her. Yet, she didn’t care and she held herself and believed herself to deserve the same respect as every working man in Knockemstiff. Although he imagined how she would be as a wife, he had to admit he couldn’t see her ever being some Knockemstiff’s man’s wife and with the example from her grandmother, she was surely on the path to be a rebellion starter. 

    - Big fan of apple pie, Y/N?

    - My grandmother refuses to sell the apples so instead I woke up at 6AM and have been baking apple pies nonstop. She says it shows I care. 

     - Never thought you to be found of Knockemstiff residents. 

     - And I am not. - she spoke as if the mere thought of it offended her.  - She said she promised Jane one. 

     - Don’t think Jane will be back for a while. - he leaned against the kitchen door, watching her place the pie onto his kitchen table. - You can take half that pie, if you want.

    - Trust me, I have my share of apple pie at home. - she folded her hands on top of her stomach. - Uhm ... Do you want me to cut you a slice of pie? I normally take mine with a bit of vanilla ice cream on top. It’s gorgeous, the warmth of the pie and the cold of the ice cream. You should try it?

    - You’re just full of ideas, aren’t ya? - he sat on the wooden chair as she sliced the pie to the best of her abilities. - Shouldn’t you be at university, or someth’ng? 

    - Well, grandma had the stroke and she’s not as motile as she used to be. I’ve been taking some classes at Ohio University but it’s not the same, it’s ...

    - It’s not the big city, ain’t it? - he added. 

    - It’s not that I dislike Knockemstiff, Captain ...

    - Yeah you do. - he interrupted her. - Just don’t let the Sheriff hear it. He already ain’t too found of ya. 

    - Nobody in that precinct liked me. - she rolled her eyes. - Well, they did but I did not like them in that way. 

    - I liked ya. Whenever you screamed at Leroy it always made my day. 

    - Leroy’s the most incompetent person I know. All he does is pimp girls out as if he discovered prostitution. I feel sorry for the girls. 

    - He does a good service.

    - Of course you’d know. - she pushed her hair away from her shoulders, feeling the sweat roll down her neck. God it was, too hot. Lee furrowed his brown, laying the fork onto the porcelain plate. She caught his look, brow raising over in a playful, smug kind of way, before she laid her hands on the table. - I’ve seen it before. 

     - You’ve seen it before?

     - Don’t worry, I didn’t see IT, but I saw Jenny get in the car with you just after graduation. I know what she does, she would call me all the time whenever Leroy was being an ass. 

     - Oh ...

     - Don’t worry, I’m not gonna say anything. Everyone in this town cheats, mostly because everyone in this town marries someone just because they think that will save them from Hell. No one is saved if they’re born in Knockemstiff, not even me. 

     - You mean to tell me you’ve done bad things, Y/N? ‘Cause I don’t believe it.

     - I’ve never done it but I’ve thought bad things. All the time. - her gaze lowered from his face to his waist before returning back to his eyes. It was a millisecond gaze, something she herself knew but he didn’t notice, no matter how observant he was. There were no perfect men in Knockemstiff, but in Y/N’s mind he was her perfect man. After all, there are no perfect men anywhere, even Saints sin and then die heroically to get into heaven. Y/N would rather sin than die for people who would’ve had her accidentally killed many times if it weren’t for her grandmother’s name and status in town. What’s the fun in being good? Every time she was good she got yelled at, someone put her hand under her skirt or tried to pin her against a wall. She was good, she would just rather sin so people wouldn’t taint her goodness. It’s a question of self preservation, at least that’s what she told herself. 

    - That doesn’t make you bad. If so there wouldn’t be good people.

    - There are no good people. - she added, ever the negative person she was, something she had inherited from her mother and which everyone who knew her could trace back to. - All people are born so they could be buried. Everything you do ... in a 100 years they won’t remember everything and all that be left of you is your burial site. That’s your legacy. 

    - Such negative views for someone who wants out of Knockemstiff. I thought you’d have a better outlook on things.

    - I’m never getting out of here. - she sighed, almost used to the idea that she was going to stay no matter how long she fought it. - I’m gonna die here. 

    - Dying ain’t so bad. - he leaned against his chair. Y/N smiled at him, looking around his home. It was messy yes but it was still a good home yet that wasn’t what she noticed. Looking out the window, she saw a built in pool. She didn’t remember hearing the Captain had a pool. Sure, he had a the better salary compared to everyone else in town except for the Sheriff, Mayor, and her grandmother. Yet she had never heard of him having a pool, not even she had one. 

    - You have a pool? 

    - Yeah, built it back when Sandy used to come over to wind up from the dinner job. She’s married now so I don’t think she wants a pool at her big brother’s home anymore. 

   - I don’t think anyone in town has a pool. - she rose from her chair and walked to the window in a lavender rush. - It’s gorgeous.

   - You can come over whenever you want, Y/N. 

   - Can I go now? - she looked over her shoulder to him. The idea of being able to swim while the boiling august heat continued to shine down onto the hellish town. Somehow it made sense yet it didn’t. Lee cocked his head to the side, wondering if he’d misheard her words or if she was really considering swimming into his pool. Unwanted feeling stirred south of him and he punished himself mentally for imagining the lavender flower girl in such ways.

    - Well, uh ... you don’t have a swimming costume. - he babbled like a confused, stunned child.

    - I can swim on my undergarments. It’s pretty much a lace embroidered swimming costume. - Lee merely nodded, not knowing exactly what to do but knowing he was flirting with sin, looking at an abysses and seeming not to fear that he was going straight into it. 

Y/N walked from the window up to the kitchen door which led over to the garden. The once white door had withered with time, turning slightly yellowish with rust on the borders, the glass of the small see through windows cracked yet remaining its shape. The door seemed to be a small reminder of what was still wrong in the Captain’s life but she chose not to dwell over it, no to think about it. She felt the cobblestones against her feet covered by an old pair of white ballerina slips as her mirrored image became clear in the crystalline pool water. 

Lee on the other hand watched like a hawk, from the rusted door he’d broken so many bottles of liquor against, as her lavender fabric fell to the dirty cobblestones. The contrast of the prim expensive dress against the cobblestones which had aged as badly as he had done was telling. At least it was telling enough for him and he wondered if this was a gift from God or if the devil was toying with him. The devil is in the details, his mother used to say, yet as she emerged from the water, hands pulling down her hair, he was almost entirely sure the devil was the girl in his pool, the same girl who had worn white dresses until her 18th birthday. Yet again, the devil was once an angel and to him, she was closer to becoming a fallen one than continuing to wear shades of white. 

    - You don’t swim, captain? - she asked as she swam to the border of the pool. 

    - I don’t enjoy doing it. - he stayed glued to the door, a good distance from her to ensure he didn’t get tempted. - You gonna just swim around like a mermaid, huh?

    - It’s better in the water than on the cobblestones, I tell ya. - she dipped into the water once again only to return to the surface, water droplets rolling down from her plump skin. - Come on, captain. You’re gonna leave me swimming by my lonesome? During the hottest day in Knockemstiff?

    - You’re a trouble stirrer. 

    - Maybe I’m just bored. - she smiled at him. He knew she wasn’t tempting him, he knew Y/N. She liked to tease around, she enjoyed the freedoms which she imposed onto herself and as such she was much different from the women he knew. Not that he knew any women outside of Knockemstiff. He’d been born and raised here and all the women he saw from out of Knockemstiff were on his television screen. - Come on, Captain. It’s your pool. 

    - I don’t want you to see my belly.

   - I don’t care, besides, if it’s that bad then come into your clothing. - her arms rested upon the pool border, wondering eyes tempting even the saint of all saints. Lee looked at the cold water reflecting the afternoon sunlight beams, trying to avoid the thoughts that crossed his mind before turning around. He let his jean trousers pool to the ground along with his shoes before entering the water using the ladder. He was almost sure he’d make her laugh if he were to jump into the water. 

The water was cold and dripped from his skin in crystal like drops. Y/N offered him a playful smile, swimming close to him with that wide eye child naughty fun look only she managed to still hold intact. She held her hands slightly back before pushing the water towards him. 

    - You tellin’ me you invited me in for a water fight? - he chuckled at her actions. 

    - Afraid I’ll win?

    - Kid, you’re much too tiny to win against me. 

    - Wanna bet? - she threw water again at him, swimming closer and closer to him before anchoring herself against him, hands on his shoulders. - I bet you as many apple pies as you want. 

    - Yeah, I’m trying not to gain any more weight, kid.

    - You have beautiful eyes, I’ve never noticed. - she made eye contact with him, seeing her own reflection in his light blue eyes. Maybe she’d never notice because the uniform was so dark blue his eyes reflected it like mirrors, yet they were light. - They’re gorgeous. 

    - Trying to make me blush, kid? 

    - Just never noticed. 

    - Well huh ... - he could listen to his heart beating and drumming against his chest along with the soft movement of the water. All his eyes could see was her, her hands holding onto his shoulders and her angelic face looking at him. - Thanks, you have nice eyes too.

    - You can’t take a compliment, Captain. - she teased.

    - I don’t think I’m deserving of any, specially coming from you, kid.

    - What is that supposed to mean?

    - You know what the men say in town. They think you’re the prettiest thing in a skirt to ever pace around here. Pretty sure they’ll kill each other trying to get your favour.

    - My favour? Is that what you think I’m good for?

    - No ... I ... That’s not what I meant. - his face creased. - I’m just telling you what I hear. 

    - You seem to know a lot of gossip about me, captain. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’ve been asking around.

    - What if I have? - Lee watched for the first time her mouth shut close. She didn’t know what to say next, eyebrows furrowed together as she inspected his face, slow blinking. Her eyes left his to look at the water back at him. - Just looking out for you ... not a lot of people like you ‘round town. 

He hands gripped his shoulder as she swam closer to him. Her intention was to hug him thank you. Of course she didn’t expect no one to look out for her, she didn’t care about what a bunch of housewives and hopeless alcoholics thought of her. She knew he didn’t inspire adoration in them other. As she got closed to him, he leaned down, capturing her lips into his. Her hands slide from her shoulders to his chest, almost as if she wanted to be the good one and push him away. He was married after all. However, as his lips moved against hers she found herself incapable of pushing him away, hands relaxing just resting against his chest as she found herself acting on her sinful thoughts for the first time. 

So much for summer love, for saying us, ‘cause you weren’t mine to lose.

taglist: @lookiamtrying​

[mythcreant]

Okay, let’s talk about this movie. I don’t understand why Tank Girl is not considered a cult classic. I mean, yes, it has super corny dialogue. Yes, despite its dark premise, it has more in common with Popeye than Preacher. Yes, it’s horribly overacted by everybody in it, including scene-chewer extraordinaire Malcolm McDowell as a tasty villain in the James Bond tradition. And, oh, gawd, yes, it has that horrible, underaged water-boarding scene (shudder), but that’s nothing compared to the vile way our villain has devised to off his enemies (double shudder).

But you know what else it has? It has Malcolm McDowell as a tasty villain in the James Bond tradition! It has amazing production value and a brilliant soundtrack. It makes really cool use of graphic comic book intercuts and seriously bitchin’ animation. It’s got a Cole Porter-does-Busby Berkely musical interlude that’s off the chain. It has Naomi Watts as an action hero. It has a cameo by Iggy Pop as a rat-faced Moses-wannabe pervert. It has the divine Ann Magnusson as an operatic dragon lady running a sex emporium for bland old white guys.

And then it has the pièce de résistance: ex-jewel thief and street pimp turned legendary gangsta hip-hop emcee Ice-T, as a ghetto Yoda howler kangaroo with a serious attitude problem. No lie. The costumes and make-up are bizarrely expressive, giving each “Ripper” it’s own unique look. This is definitely NOT an amateur production. There was money spent on this baby and once you release your inner sphincter and just go along for the ride, you’ll be a lot happier with it.

I would even go so far as to rank it right up there with Phantom Of The Paradise, Barbarella and Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me for sheer unadulterated fun. Because for me, it’s all that and a bag of Salsa Verde Doritos, a stylish and completely unhinged heromedy (I just made that word up) and, above all else, an under-appreciated comic book adaptation that needs a second look. And a third. And maybe even a fourth. Oh, yeah baby… yeah!

[emily-charles]

My last nightmare: (January 10th, 2020)

(None of this is well-written or thought-out. There’s probably typos, or errors, but I wrote it out because my nightmares suck, and I was told once to record them. I wrote it out, still half asleep.) So I'm a black woman, with this amazing, springy, short curly hair. Personally, as a white gal, I'm not used to it, and I keep playing with it. It sounds stupid, but I've never been given that opportunity before. I'm beautiful (from my point of view, but 'I'/she doesn't think so as much). She is actually really soul crushing about how mean she is to herself. It hurts me to hear others think that way about themselves. But I know I do it too some days. She's stunning, but she thinks she's plain. 'Nothing much', as 'she' puts it. But that line between reality and the dream fade, and I'm her now. I'm a black, lesbian woman, who's dating and living with a Latina woman, named Marie. She has this beautiful skin. It looks like dark honey and feels like silk, and I know every inch of her body. Her long, straight hair, it almost reaches her waist, and she's been growing it out for years. She told me so. A whole history between us, and I don't know where it came from, but I love her and I know it. I met her at a local bar. Just by a single glance. A 'save me' glance. I'd never been a 'love at first sight' kinda gal, but I fell in love with her the minute she smiled at me, and twisted away from some 'I bet I can make you like dick' dude. I had come up to monitor the issue as it seemed this beautiful chick was getting harassed. I walked over, straightened my shoulders to give off a more powerful vibe, and threw my arm around her, smiled sweetly at her, and said, "Is this idiot being a douche canoe?" She leaned over, and kissed me abruptly. The men hooted and hollered, then she turned around, grabbed his beer from his hand, and poured it over his fucking head. We both got kicked out of the bar, but I'd never laughed so hard. It was worth it. We spent the rest of the night, chatting in some cheap-ass pizza place, sipping from her 'hidden flask' and sharing a slice of pizza that was basically a quarter of a pizza. She's fucking stunning, she smart, with the sharpest wit I'd ever experienced, and I love her. I love her so much. I'm going to marry her, when the law passes in America, and I know it. She works as an RN at our nearest hospital. She'd moved here for the work (I didn't know nurses had to move to find work? Is that true? I'm still weirded out by this after waking) -- so she meets a bunch of new people, and I'm one of the first she meets just by this bar-experience. I remember everything about her. I remember her name was Marie Anne Juarez. She was disowned by her family when she came out of the closet, and things had been tough for her for a long time. She worked two jobs, and occasionally a part-time gig on top when the other two weren't enough. After she saved up, she put the money into school, rented the tiniest room she could find, and found a better full-time job. Somewhere else with 12-hour shifts, and worked her ass off. She'd felt alone for a long time, but she found her relationships with another tight knit group of LGBTQ through me. When we first met, she was quiet at the beginning of the night-- but sassy as fuck. Once she opened up, I knew those small smirks/grins, and smiles led to sass and funny comments. We were both somewhat sarcastic, and we both giggled over a lot of the same things. When she started her RN career, she worked 16-hours straight, but she never complained (do nurses really work that long?? Like holy shit...). I lived with her later on. I remember her panties. How she liked booty shorts, (my favourites were her black with neon orange elastic) and lace thongs specifically (Easter colors always outside of a handful of black pairs). How pink and this mustard yellow were her favourite colours. They matched her skin tone, nearly black eyes, and dark hair. I remember where the window in our bedroom was. Our queen-sized bed. I remember that she always blow-dried her hair straight even though it was wavy to curly. How much she loved the 'natural' look when it came to make-up except for liner and mascara. Maybe that's a nurse thing. No time for anything else. One night I came home from work, made a quickie stupid dinner because I beat her home, and she didn't show. The police called me, and said she was at X-hospital. God forbid I remember what hospital it was in my dream. I went immediately. They wouldn't let me see her, even though I was her 'emergency contact'. They said, "Only family." And I wasn't 'family'. I was her fucking girlfriend. And even if I was her fianceé, I was female, and oh my gosh, the scandal! Even though her family hadn't talked to her in years -- and no 'family' would be coming to visit -- I had to wait outside. I wasn't allowed to see her. When she finally walked out she was wearing hospital clothing -- they'd taken her clothing as 'evidence'. She told me everything then. In a quiet voice, and without seemingly to stop and breathe -- all at once, and just once, she told me everything. All while avoiding my gaze, and refusing my touch -- I can’t hold her hand, I can’t brush too close, or make direct eye contact with her. She had been walking, in her scrubs to her car to the employee parking lot (all under video surveillance), and was sexually assaulted as she was unlocking her car. He raped her between her car, and the car parked next to her. When she tried to resist, he strangled her, and smashed and dragged her face across the concrete. She had bruises around her neck, stitches along her brow and side of her cheek, and butterfly tape across her nose. She told me what happened, and after that -- she refused to speak of it again. She told me that she just needed time. She was given 'leave' from the hospital for 'health reasons' and she stared at the wall or muted television most of the time. I never questioned her, but I begged her to talk to me sometimes. After awhile, when she let me, I held her. I spooned her, and she didn't flinch from my touch; she just clutched me tighter. Enough to leave half-moon marks in the tops of my hand from her nails. And sobbed occasionally. She dry-heaved occasionally, or went on benders trying to clean everything. Anything to dismiss the memory, I suppose.

I would have to stop her at 3AM from doing the dishes. Clutching her to me, and dragging her into my lap to get her to stop, and she would get angry and burst out crying. Or sometimes she just hiccupped and stared at nothing. Sometimes she struggled to get away so she could keep cleaning. I kept us afloat. I knew she was going through bad shit. I was there. I saw it first hand. Tucked in bed with her, fully clothed -- this wasn't the time to ask questions. Just be there for her, and do what I can. I just wanted to glue all the broken pieces back together. I still had to work, and leave her alone all day to keep us afloat, and I hated leaving her. I would text her throughout the day, reminding her how much I loved her. How amazing she was. I came home two months after the assault, and the sink was on. I could hear it through the thin walls of our small house while I was unlocking and pushing open the door of our side entrance. The sink was running full blast, and I was so confused. The sink was overfilling. Did she fall into a depression sleep while doing the dishes? There was water all over the floor. I yelled her name, and stepped forward to turn off the tap but never got to it. Our kitchen was small. A small island of grey/white/black splatters that matched the surrounding counters. But as I stepped in, keeping my sneakers on to avoid the water, I noticed the water had a weird amber/brown rust colour to it the closer to the sink I got. I stepped in further, and saw her. Laying flat. On the ground. She was still in her scrubs even though she hadn’t been to work in months. She said they were comfortable and reminded her of a better time. They were blue. At least... mostly. But the water... the thin layer of water around her was brown. Reddish brown. It was only then, I noticed she was injured. A angry red slice splitting her skin goes from the inside of elbow straight to the palm of her hand. A paring knife was nearby her other hand. The water has collected around her. It must've been hot or warm at one point -- but it's still running now, and absolutely ice cold now, and her lips are a bluish tinge. I pulled myself away from my inner thoughts, scream her name, and fall on my knees in the murky water. My thoughts aren't clear. I shake her -- reach to check for a pulse -- and there's nothing. I can't find a pulse. I see movies all the time where they say to put your fingers, but I can't find it. I scream in her face to wake up. I scream her name. I'm not at all ashamed to say I pimp slapped the hell out of her while screaming, "WAKE UP!" Nothing worked in the first literal ten seconds -- so I ended up calling 9-1-1. No idea how I grabbed, or dialed my cell phone, but it happened. I scream for an ambulance, say someone's dying, and give the address. I shouted her name, leaning over her chest to listen. A rattle, a wheeze.... Anything. I take a breath to try calm myself so I can hear over the sound of my blood rushing in my ears, and try again. I tie the nearest tea towel around her arm as tight as I can. I tell her she’s not allowed to leave. I tell her I love her. I tell her to wake up.  I tell her I won’t let her leave. For some reason the whole experience is as slow as quicksand. Slowly sucking the everything out of you before drowning you. I slap Marie again like she owes me money -- like I'm actually angry and not terrified. Then I straddle her hips and push on her diaphragm, and ribs together. I keep screaming at her, and there's wetness on my face. I think it's either from the floor, or I'm crying. She briefly smiles despite the pain I must be causing her, and even though she tries to open her eyes -- they open sluggishly, and the lower part of her eyes show. White and the dark bluish-grey ring of her dark like night eyes. She mutters, "Love you. Sorry." Then her eyes and lungs close. I have heard the goddamn death rattle, and I've ignored it. The water surrounding us looks like it had been soaking in a bath-bomb made of a brick. I am focused and pressing on her chest, and I hear her exhale with each push, but aside from that, I hear nothing except the sink still running that I’ve forgotten to turn off. I have to breathe into her in order to get her chest to inflate. The EMTs come out of nowhere. I am shoved away abruptly -- I am furious, delerious, fighting them -- trying to keep the rhythm of her heart and lungs -- but I am pulled away by two cops after that. It appears 9-1-1 sends cops with the ambulance no matter where they go. I struggle against them, I yell things like, "She's asthmatic! Allergic to cats, cashews, peanuts, but we don't keep that shit in our house!" The cops take me with them to the hospital in the backseat like some bad guy, clothes and hands still drenched and soaked in her blood and the dirty water. I'm not allowed to ride in the ambulance with her. I'm asked so many questions, but I'm not "family". Even though I'm her emergency contact, I can't do anything. The triage nurses insist on me waiting in the waiting room. No one seems to listen to me. They tell me to wait. I'm not allowed in. I'm not 'family’. I wait. And wait. And wait. And wait. And wait. And wait. And wait. When the doctor comes out, his face gives everything away with a gentle shake of his head. I burst into tears, and I start telling him, "No. NO. No, no, no," before he can say anything. I wake up, and I'm crying in my sleep.

[treason-and-plot]

REPLIES TO RAJ’S DINNER DATE PART 2

@tyrellsimsoficeandfire

How does that stupid guy dare to ask that with his wife around!!!! Stupid Idiot

Heh heh! You would know the answer now. Sorry for the subterfuge ;=)

@stsciurussimblr

Brent needs a boyfriend.

Or a cat!

@shhhushhh

Even if she is capable of keeping her cool, does it worth it? 🤔 Even for 20 gran. And that other customer with the sushi has to be reported to the manager and thrown out! Ok... politely asked to leave.

@ktarsims

Oyyyyeee.

@getmygameon

The thing I'm most surprised is that Mia in all this time hadn't dared get a boob job but I guess she figures they see what they get or forget it because she probably doesn't want to be one of THOSE women although I'm sure the thought has crossed her mind a time or twenty but she's staying true to herself which isn't a bad thing.

Yes, Mia has always pretty much stayed true to herself...but there would be no way she could afford a boob job, even if she wanted one!

@wannabecatwriter

If she still crushes on Raj after this... too bad.

@lilsisterg

After that insult I was sure she was going to blow ... damn she's good!

@goatkibble

Wow, this restaurant is full of arseholes - horny Raj, sushi creep and BRENT'S BUTT ON THE BENCH!!! Oh lord, get off the work surfaces! ;-;

@sims3hasstoppedworking

Not only tongue...

@simsmidgen

Nice set up Raj, but I think she has passed the test now. Now if Mango had of asked to eat of her naked body, that would be a different matter, I'm sure :P

@miraakles

I am also insecure about my chest like Mia so tbh all I wanna do is smash a plate on Raj and his ugly ass dates heads and then punch that other guy out his chair. Like Mia.. Do it. If Anita got away with murder you can too girl! Who's gonna believe a criminal over an innocent blonde??

@sweetnovember77

Lol! Apparently Raj has found the pearl. And, it doesn’t seem to matter where you go. Some folks will still lack polite or well-bred social behavior.

@princessdejamars

LOL...you go Raj....buy me dinner but I'm not on the menu for dessert.....

@reverieinsimlish

Bwahahaha

@serabiet

he's just awful :D

She’s a gold digger, and he’s playing her ;=)

@shhhushhh

Well, he did kiss her. So it's time for her to pay. But seriously I can't pick up on his game right now. I'm intrigued!

Raj thought that would be the ultimate test- If anything was going to make Mia lose her cool, it would be watching him make out with Amelia. But as we know, Mia didn’t miss a beat.

@miraakles

Raj you bastard. Holy shit you just played the hell outta this skank! For that, I forgive you! Like a whole 1% forgiveness.

@sweetnovember77

bahahahahahaha 😂😂 typical. uptight and stuffy.

Amelia should have stuck with dating geriatrics.  They are much more her speed ;=)

@sleazy4goopy

LOL I love Raj, what a star

@lalunebleue

Hahaha! Raj is awesome!

@nocturnalazure

Omg, Raj is quite something else! Love it!

Thanks Lovelies for all the Raj love! He is definitely one of my favourite characters. I have been looking forward to this story arc for a year or more, and I’m so excited it’s finally taking shape. SQUEEEEEE!!!!

@winifredwoogie

Lol, Bazinga!

@parystrange

ROFL! That last line....

@ktarsims

LMAO - OMG. Mia might get to gloat after all. xD

@simsmidgen

job well done

@simsmidgen

the wine was fitting ;)

I knew you’d notice the wine ;=)

@wannabecatwriter

He is probably well aware of her gold digger tendencies.

He is....his friend Hector at the Bistro told him all about Amelia and her ex-husband.

@hyperkaos

Grins and pretends to buff nails on imaginary collar - waits for the next edition of "As The Cats Play"

@tyrellsimsoficeandfire

I can hear Mia chuggling behind the next corner! 😂😂😂

Urban Dictionary: chuggling

@mysimsloveaffair

Ha! Raj is a damn pimp. And you know she probably ordered the most expensive thing on the menu.

LMBOOOOO!!! Of course she would have! Caviar and Lobster Thermidor!!

@lilsisterg

LOL!!!! Welp! LOL!

@ice-creamforbreakfast

Oh shit XD

@buckleysims

LOL, yeah I agree with simsmidgen! A cheeky brat indeed. XD But I love him. And Mia. And this entire episode. Fabulous job! <3

@buckleysims

Also, I just want to add, the detail in this story never fails to amaze and impress me. And it's done in such an entertaining and amusing fashion, too. Goals, tbh. I can't get enough! :)

Awww, Colleen! You overwhelm me! Your comments always make me so happy, and quite stunned as well, because your own screenies are of course so flawlessly rendered and rich in detail.  Thank you so much for the lovely words. 

@sims3hasstoppedworking

I think Torpedo Boobs won't sleep tonight anyway. Shock was too big. 😂

She won’t be sleeping on her stomach, that’s for sure....

@streetlightaurora

Haha, he's a savage. 🤣

@igglemouse

That's just cold LOL wow!

I loved this comment because it reminded me that while Raj can be charming and chivalrous and very kind to those in need, he can also be cold and ruthless and calculating. Thank you!

[airadam]

Episode 139 : Safe & Sound

"Give your mama enough money to bury ya."

- E-40

We've just about dragged ourselves to the end of the year whose name shall not be spoken, and we're not out of the woods just yet. The winter is drawing in, and so we have not a festive selection, but one which in many parts sonically fits the season. There are some deep album cuts, B-sides, and mixtape tracks here, making it one of those months where pretty much everyone is going to learn at least one new tune! Get those headphones connected and let's go...

Twitter : @airadam13

Twitch : @airadam13

Playlist/Notes

E-40 : I'ma Teach Ya How To Sell Dope

The title of this track from "Revenue Retrievin' : Day Shift" wrong-foots you, because this is A-grade "B-side of the game" material, as Ice-T would say. If you ever thought the drug game was glamourous, E-40 lets you know that it's a dangerous, paranoid, and depressing dead-end - even for the few who live long enough to make a bit of money. 

The Cool Kids : Tires (Instrumental)

This had just the right slow pace, boom, and space to form a bridge between the tracks on either side. The vocal version appropriately comes from the 2009 "Merry Christmas" EP and features Boldy James, but this instrumental is available as part of the "Gone Fishing : Instrumentals" mixtape (despite not being on the "Gone Fishing" album, so far as I'm aware!)

Jane Child : Loot$ville

Take the rhythm section alone and you could imagine someone like Above The Law or The Dogg Pound getting busy on this track. It's been a very long time since the release of the "Surge" LP, the last from Jane Child, but it still stands up! Child's production and playing skills, alongside those of Cat Gray have this instrumental growling along at the low end, and then her vocal elevates the whole package into a quality song.

Jay-Z : Where I'm From

A clear standout from "In My Lifetime, Vol.1", this is one of the tracks for the streets, and a stark contrast to the many songs on the album that were obviously aiming for mass appeal. Jay lays down the facts of life in Brooklyn's Marcy Projects over a menacing beat from D-Dot and Amen-Ra, with DJ Premier contributing the cuts.

Scarface : The Fix / Fixed

I decided to blend the opening and closing tracks from Scarface's "The Fix" LP here, since both are excellent, but also very short. Scarface and Mike Dean handle the production, and it would surprise many to know that Scarface is also the singer here! This musical motif was re-used by the great Pimp C for UGK's "Still Ridin' Dirty", which also featured Scarface - another track to check out.

Sean Price ft. Buckshot and General Steele : Apartheid

This tune from "Imperius Rex" is the exact kind of darkness and coldness that matches the current season, especially in a year like this. Crummie Beats provides the score, and Sean is accompanied by two of the absolute foundation BCC members to go all the way grimy with it. Check the video - as well as all the artist guests, Sean's wife Bernadette and daughter Shaun both make appearances.

Mad Cobra ft. The Geto Boys : Dead End Street (Instrumental)

From the early 90s, when all sorts of Hip-Hop groups were trying to add a little Jamaican flavour (to wildly varying effect), there were a few artists from JA with the budget to cross over the other way. This 12" had multiple versions of the GB-featuring gun tune headed by dancehall don Cobra, and this is the thumping instrumental to the main mix.

Bronx Slang : Copy That

Jerry Beeks and Ollie Miggs are back with a new single, which just had to be shared here. Beeks has been doing his thing for a long time and continues to tweak and refine his approach - his flow here is alternately conversational and then more dense, and shows a real level of comfort expounding on serious subject matter on the mic. Grab this either as a single or on the "Bronx Kill" mixtape!

Ghostface Killah ft. Trife : Be Easy

The horns on "Copy That" brought this track to mind, and it's a worthy follow-up. One of the big singles from "Fishscale", it's a triumphant Pete Rock blast flipping "Stay Away From Me" by The Sylvers (this info is already out there), and Ghost leading the charge over the top with an assist from Trife in the hypeman role.

Phat Kat ft. T3 and Black Milk : Danger

All the Detroit on this cut, which has appeared in a few places - Phat Kat's "Carte Blanche" LP, Black Milk's "Sound Of The City", and even the "Saint's Row" soundtrack. As "SOTC" was released two years before the Phat Kat album came out in 2007, I guess that kind of makes it Black Milk's track and may explain why he's on the first verse - although Phat Kat is a beast on the third verse cleanup. Black Milk is on the beat, of course.

Dilated Peoples : Clockwork

I'd somehow forgotten that DJ Premier had done this beat for Dilated, but it's a great bi-coastal collaboration between him and this LA crew! The "Expansion Team" LP, their second, is full of heavyweight production, with Alchemist, Da Beatminerz, and JuJu from The Beatnuts among the boardsmen on the project. This track bumps but has a kind of thriller film soundtrack energy at the same time, and Rakaa and Evidence do it justice on the mic.

Fingathing : You Fly Me

The pairing of bassist Sneaky and world-class turntablist DJ Peter Parker was not the kind of thing that was at all common when they started out, but their original concept went from sensational live performances to quality recorded output. This number comes from the first full album, "The Main Event" (which was preceded by the "2 Player EP"), and is a glorious mix of bass and strings with some jazzy drumming action.

Zo! ft. Phonte : Everything She Wants

Now this is how you do a cover version! The last track recorded for "...just visiting three", this was a left-field idea from Zo that Phonte loved, as he'd always loved the original Wham track and wanted to remake it himself! It's much slower than the original, and as Zo points out, it helps to maintain the focus on the lyrics, which were some of George Michael's best from that era. The multi-talented Phonte kills it on the lead vocal (as well as some choice ad-libs), and Zo has the beat sliding and slumping, with a great switch-up at the end if you go and get the full version... 

Freeway & Jake One : The Product

I hadn't played "The Stimulus Package" for ages, but it's still really good. When this was released, it seemed like an idea from a bygone era to pair one MC with one producer for a whole album, but one that was very welcome. Philadelphia's Freeway's addiction-themed lyrics are pretty much timeless, and as is usually the case, Jake One's beat nods to tradition while not being bound by it.

Sadat X & El Da Sensei ft. Bumpy Knuckles : 3 Rounds To Spar

Wall-to-wall rugged MCs right here, with the pairing of Sadat and El joined by the king of the third verse, Bumpy Knuckles for a pure mic workout over some heavy boom-bap (which is never a perjorative round here) by Divine Drummah - a producer I could only find this one credit for, but who definitely cooked up a track with the appropriate weight for the MCs on it. If you check the full version from the "XL" album, you can enjoy the intro where you hear the main sample in a more open form before the chops and drums come in.

Boot Camp Clik ft. Twanie Ranks : Smile In Heaven

This one probably snuck past most of you, as it was buried on the end of the Black Moon "Rush" 12" and didn't appear anywhere else except the "Collect Dis Edition" compilation in 2003. It turned up when I was digitising vinyl and I thought it was a fitting one to play mood-wise, with the contemplative street lyrics and the sombre vibes of the Beatminerz' instrumental underscoring it all. Twanie Ranks adds to the whole with his reggae-styled vocals at the end of the hook sections.

K-Def : The Final Thrill

One of those guys you could describe as a producer's producer, New Jersey's K-Def quietly has an amazing discography! I went back to his "Willie Boo Boo" album for this one, which is so short I had to loop it up a bit to make it long enough to work here - that said, there's no downside to hearing a beat like this for a little longer :)

Tribeca : Charlie Hustle (Pony Express)

With a sample that almost everyone will recognise, even if you can't name it, Tribeca does double duty as MC and producer on this 2003 12". On the mic, he takes on the persona/viewpoint of the former baseball player Pete Rose, who was banned from the major leagues for gambling, and as such is also excluded from the Baseball Hall of Fame (the "Cooperstown" you hear mentioned). When it comes to the production, he pounds the MPC in his characteristic fashion to supply the low end to complement the piano track. 

Please remember to support the artists you like! The purpose of putting the podcast out and providing the full tracklist is to try and give some light, so do use the songs on each episode as a starting point to search out more material. If you have Spotify in your country it's a great way to explore, but otherwise there's always Youtube and the like. Seeing your favourite artists live is the best way to put money in their pockets, and buy the vinyl/CDs/downloads of the stuff you like the most!

Check out this episode!

[goreverine-archive1]

susperfectus​:

The wording Akihiro uses should be nothing but deliberate, because it sends another low-voltage charge of excitement down Pyg’s spine. He knows all these tricks down to a T, and can’t help but fall for them, at least this time around. Daken masterfully leaves several paths open, and Pyg is planning on taking all of them. Still, the thrill is mixed heavily with apprehension. He’s far from trusting the man yet, and isn’t one to be trusted himself. An animalistic dance of who bites first, and Pyg’s got an ace up his sleeve - he’s a fan of pain. Counting all the ways in which Akihiro could break him does nothing to keep his heartbeat rate from spiking. This wolf doesn’t have to huff and puff - Pyg will let him in.

“Not to worry. I own a small club - can’t go with just one business these days, right? - that is organized with special clientele in mind. A certain level of dressing up is required, but in your case I’ll give you a free pass.”

Pyg knocks on the panel, and it slides back immediately. A shock of red curls on the back of the doll’s back stand out against the fuzzy glow of dock lights. It listens to the instructions in silence, and a low hum of engine starting to life follows. The car makes a gentle U-turn to wheel away from the shoreline and into the inner part of the city. The driving is smooth and precise, clearly an apex of decades of practice. Pyg does not limit his generosity to esteemed professionals only, but he does pick out his personal team carefully. Those left behind will find their way home, provided with enough concealing clothes and medical masks.

His fingers bracket his knees in anticipation of a night of indulgence. He’s sped himself up just a bit before the meeting, but it is starting to wear out. The insatiable maw of the black hole inside him bares its teeth and howls for more.

The car takes them north east, into a part of the city that is generally known for its respectability. Punks and marginals aren’t what he had in mind when he set up the place. The sufferers of unorthodox addictions, the pursuers of forbidden pleasures find their safe haven here. A forum on the deep web allows Pyg to attune the services to the public demands. Here one will see pimps and school teachers mixing into one demented mass, until their public faces are no more.

There is no greetings or name calling from the face control or the host. They only nod politely and offer their best smiles - both for Pyg and his guest. Pyg waves the host off when the black-suited man makes a move to escort them to the VIP zone.

They pass a few tables and booths, where no one acknowledges the newcomers. Most eyes are trained on the stage where in a soft limelight stand to masked young creatures, one a fox and another an eagle. The eagle, a small, lean figure with bared tender breasts, stands still, reciting into a mic a paragraph from “The King In Yellow” in a voice swaying like a hypnotized snake. The fox, flat-chested and hairless, contorts their body to a languid cadence of a song matching the reader’s rhythm.

The VIP zone provides the best view of the stage, and immediately as Pyg and Akihiro are seated a waiter sidles up, sporting the smarmiest grin that can be found in a place like this.

Pyg, putting one leg over the other, leans against the padded leather of the seat.

“Whiskey, for starters. Two ice cubes.”

His darkened, private gaze is fixed on Daken.

“What would you like, Daken? Drink, something more effective? Boy, girl, anyone else?" 

A silent ride in a city wet and dark, lights from the streets and windows and signs blurring into vibrant reflected and refracted colors by the rain, the reflections on the asphalt. Daken still hasn’t memorized this place by heart: He’s surprised at some of the transitions between neighborhoods, the sudden change in street names and building styles. His head is craned away from Pyg, absorbing the sight like a dog stuck in the back seat of its owner’s SUV.

Diaspora of various groups fly by (bakeries of Little Manila, Jewish-Russian delis, others) to more clean, unified, renovated and ultimately gentrified areas. Daken half-expected to be brought to some grimy underground warehouse tucked behind a smoking power plant, not a clean and quiet establishment very close to a luxury stationary shop.

The privacy and lack of inquiring eyes as they enter is appreciated, but Daken’s own gaze is hungry, drinking it in as his head subtly swivels. The scent as well: Low and slow, a simmer. The wide array of substances that the audience and staff is on blurs together, even those flowing in the veins of the pretty if intentionally opaque performers. “Lovely,” he murmurs, as they make their way through towards the VIP area. “Not as ostentatious as I would have thought.”

Daken takes his own seat across from Pyg, fingers first dragging across the leather. Legs spread wide, shameless, taking up space as he wants it. “What would I like?” he repeats after Pyg when asked. “Hm.”

What does he want? Not for much today, actually. He’s half tempted to rattle off an odd craving for a scent (someone within the first three days of their menstrual cycle), but the point really isn’t to entertain himself. The point is to leave a flattering impression on the one he’s currently sucking up to. No, he’ll play along with whatever the hell this madman wants.

Daken’s head swivels to the waiter. “The drink? I’ll take a wet gin that’s palatable neat. Just the bottle, and a glass.” Then, he looks back at Pyg. “Otherwise: Ply me with anything, anyone, everything of your choice. I’d love to see where you think my tastes lie.”

Here’s the question: Will Pyg overestimate or underestimate his preferences for partners, the few seconds of drugs he can burn up? It’s fun to see. He may or may not touch, fuck whoever he throws at him. It really doesn’t matter either way.

When the waiter's attention shifts, his chest leans slightly over the table. "Do you take all your business partners here, or is it just me?"

[krazy-ky-sta-hatter]

Which American High School Stereotype Are You?

Which American High School Stereotype Are You? (Copy, paste and bold your answers).

Outcast:

You don’t have very many friends. At times, teachers forget your name. You were always picked last for kickball. You don’t like to talk a lot. You tend to avoid mass social activities. You don’t participate in any extracurricular activities. All you wish for is to move away or get a fresh start. Your friends have blown you off before. You sit alone in most of your classes. You have a feeling that once you leave high school or college, nobody is going to remember you. You hold interest in activities that other people find strange. People don’t find you friendly. You hold extreme hate towards another high school stereotype. You eat alone at lunch.

Total = 6

Party Girl/Boy:

Let’s face it, you like to party. You party every other weekend. …Or every weekend? You’ve been going to frat house parties since early high school. You’re the defending beer bong champion. You know the best hook-ups in the state… world. Everybody who’s anybody goes to the same parties you go to. You’ve hooked up at parties. You spend time getting ready for parties. You’ve passed out from being too drunk. You’ve partied all night. You’ve snuck out of the house to party. Actually, your parents really don’t care if you party or not. You’re pretty much nocturnal. You like to go clubbing. You and your friends always party hop. You’ve crashed a party before. One way or another, you’ve wound up naked in front of everybody at a party. You’ve thrown up from drinking too much. You’ve done something that you regret at a party. You can dance. (ONLY when drunk though) You’re friends with a lot of people older than you.

Total = 7

Scene Kid:

You know what sXe and hXc actually mean. You have a obsession with dinosaurs, robots, and Pokemon. You idolize Jeffree Starr. People have called you scene before. You spend at least an hour getting ready to take pictures of yourself for your Facebook. You have a mirror pic. You listen to bands that most people have never heard of. You enjoy going to shows. You only go to shows for the sake of going to shows, not the music. Your hair is multicoloured. You accessorize your hair with kiddie barrettes and bows. Fashion is one of the most important things that define you. You mosh. You often mix vintage with modern. Your Facebook picture captions are sad lyrics to sad songs. All of your friends are scene. You don’t know many of the people on your friends list in person. You take angled pictures of yourself. You enjoy photography.

Total = 4

Prep:

You pop the collar. You won’t go near the “goths”. You own at least one thing from a designer store. You are very clean cut. You are squeamish. People have called you preppy before. You never leave the house without putting on cologne/perfume. You have a lot of money. You know who LC is. You watch shows like The OC, The Real World, The Hills, and Laguna Beach. One of your favourite stores are Abercrombie & Fitch or American Eagle Outfitters. You’re afraid to set foot into Hot Topic. You carry a purse wherever you go. You need to wake up at least an hour before school so you can get ready. You do not leave the house without make up. You are content overall with how your life is going.

Total = 3

Band Geek:

You have played an instrument before. You still play an instrument. You are/were in regular Band. You are/were in Jazz Band. You are/were in Marching Band. You’ve never dated anybody outside of band. Most of your friends are in band. The band room/band hall is your second home. You enjoy listening to Classical music on occasion. You aspire to be a Drum Major. You’ve made out with somebody on a Band bus or at a Band competition. You have trouble getting your non-band friends to go near the band room. Band is your favourite class. You have been to band camp. You walk in step with all your friends. You talk about band constantly. You know that American Pie has got it all wrong. You hate rap music. Marching Season is your favourite time of year. When you go to football games, you don’t really pay attention to the game itself. Your favourite jokes are band jokes. You know it’s not about the bloods and the crips: it’s the brass and the woodwinds.

Total = 2

Thespian:

You have been in a school play. You have seen a Broadway musical. (Bootleg) You like to act. You have participated in a school play. You have participated in a play outside of school. You have gone to the Thespian Conference. You get ticked off when people make that thespian, “Did you say lesbian?” joke. You have done tech. You know that you cannot touch anybody else’s props. You have played in the pit orchestra for a musical. You have been in a cast party. You are in a thespian troupe. You often sing show tunes at the top of your lungs. You know who Idina Menzel and Johnathan Larson are. At one point in your life, you were obsessed with RENT. You do not have a personal bubble. You actually understand Shakespeare. You know how to put on stage make up. You have been a lead. You met a lot of your better friends through theater.

Total = 18

Overachiever:

You participate in a lot of extracurricular activities. You have a part-time job. (Full now, but I did when I was at school). You have straight A’s. You are in mostly honors/IB/AP classes. You do not procrastinate. You have scored a 5 on an AP test. You do not have very much down time. You are very organized. You always have a thousand things going on at once. You are in a relationship. You aspire to get into an Ivy League School. In your extracurriculars, you hold leadership positions. You are/were on Student Council. You are/were the class president. You are/were a class officer. You are/were the Salutatorian for your class. You are/were the Valedictorian for your class. People have told you that you didn’t have a life. You are getting/have already received the IB Diploma. You cry hysterically when you get anything lower than an A on anything.

Total = 5

Slacker:

Your grades are slipping. You always wait until the last minute to do big projects. You are an overall procrastinator. You tend to do your homework when you’re watching TV. It takes you ages to turn your job applications in. You are often late to school/work. You spend the majority of your time watching TV, the computer or going on Facebook when you could be doing something more productive. You sleep in past noon on the weekends and during the summer. You do not get out of your pyjamas unless you have to leave the house. You could walk, but you’ll just drive. You have fallen asleep during class before. Friends have called you lazy before. Life is hard when you lose the remote & you have to walk a million miles over to the TV and change the channel. When you hang out with your friends, the majority of your time is spent playing video games or doing something where neither of you have to stand up. You have eaten an entire pint of ice cream in one sitting. You have sat through an entire running marathon of a show before.

Total = 8

Goth:

Your wardrobe consists of mostly black things. When you have the money, you shop at Hot Topic. You think tattoos are hot. You think odd piercings are hot. You don’t get along with your parents. You have/want to dyed/dye your hair an exotic colour. You’ve styled your hair in liberty spikes. Sometimes you ponder the meaning of life and death. You like to write dark poetry. You are into S&M. You have a pair of oversized black pants. At one point in your life, you liked Foamy, Happy Bunny, Emily the Strange, and the Happy Tree Friends. You listen to grunge. You have a messenger bag with buttons up and down the straps. You smoke cigarettes. You will only date other goths. You don’t really care what people think about you. Overly happy people scare you. You like black makeup & nail polish best.

Total = 7

Nerd:

You actually study for tests and quizzes. You have straight A’s. You haven’t had any luck with the opposite sex. You are into WoW, Magic Cards, and Halo. You over analyze jokes to the point where they aren’t funny anymore. Your mom buys your clothes for you. You actually answer the questions in class. You sit front row center in all of your classes to get the best learning experience. You miss school during the summer. You wear your pants at your waist. You prefer sweatpants to jeans. (I prefer skirts and dresses though). You have a pocket protector in your shirt with pens and a calculator in it. You let cute boys/girls take advantage of you & copy your homework in hopes of getting noticed. You’ve noticed some of the spelling and grammar mistakes in others writing. People always cheat off you during tests. Your parents pack your lunch for you every day. You wear/should be wearing glasses.

Total = 6

Garage Band Junkie:

You play the guitar. You have been in a garage band before. You’re still in a garbage band. You think your band is going to make it big someday. You play shows almost weekly. You play the drum set. You sing vocals for a band. You write your own lyrics. You spend hundreds on amps and microphones. Your band has a Facebook page. You have been in multiple garage bands. You have changed the name of your band at least twice. You have participated in a battle of the bands. Your band has been signed. You have taken guitar classes at school. You have played at the same venue multiple times. You would rather make it big than have to go to college. You have musical talent. You have groupies. You’ve made t-shirts and other apparel for your band.

Total = 5

Gangsta:

You actually are black. You know who the bloods and the crips are. You wear doo-rags. You actually grew up in the ghetto. You can freestyle. You drive down the street blaring your music. Your ride is pimped out with stereo boosts. You can break dance. You say “nigga” a lot. You talk too fast for people to understand you. You are pretty chill with life. You wear your jeans oversized and below your butt. Old school rap is the best. You know that Tupac will never die. You wear bling. You have/want a custom grill. You have custom rims on your tires. You are actually in a gang. You are always big pimpin’.

Total = 1

Emo:

You often have trouble convincing people that you aren’t emo. You comb your hair over one of your eyes. You flip your hair often. You have dark-rimmed glasses. You have hurt your self on purpose. People often complain about your pants being too tight. You don’t really smile too often. You blog often. You never smile in pictures. You listen to Thursday and/or Sunny Day Real Estate. You’re too much of a pussy to be a goth. You own a lot of band t-shirts. You go to a lot of shows. You only go for emo/scene boys and girls. It doesn’t take very much to make you cry. You have played all the Emo Games. You have worn black eyeliner before. You own a bandana which you wear in your hair. You have dark hair. You love the emo song. You say stuff like “I feel like my heart’s being ripped out” and all.

Total = 4

Skatepunk:

You own/ed a skateboard. You have been skateboarding since you were in grade school. You have gotten many injuries from skateboarding. You know that World Industries and Element aren’t just clothing lines. You have vandalized public property. You have TPed/egged somebody’s house before. You have been yelled at for loitering. You have gotten in trouble with the cops. You listen to punk rock. Chicks on skateboards are hot. You stick it to the man. You own skater shoes. You watch MTV2, not MTV. You enjoy crude humor. Screw school, lets do crazy stuff. You know that there are other pro skaters out there besides Tony Hawk. You pretty much live at the skate park. Hygiene does not concern you. Skater boys are attractive.

Total = 5

Metalhead:

Most people are scared of your music. A lot of the bands you like have violent names/titles/lyrics. You hate emo kids. You have gotten kicked out of a public place multiple times before. Slipknot isn’t really metal. You appreciate really good guitarists of any genre, particularly flamenco. You hate pop and rap. You spend all your money on music-related stuff. Scene kids are fun to laugh at. You will become friends with anyone if they like the same bands. You curse a lot. You can name at least five sub genres of metal. You wore black converses before they became emo. At least one of your favorite bands thinks they’re Vikings. You also like classic rock, such as Led Zeppelin and Pink Floyd. You have yelled at someone for their taste in music.

Total = 5

[mfmagazine]

151

Article by Dylan Van Keef

While he certainly is a true reflection of his music, I found the 151 to be the type of gentleman of distinction my Uncle spoke of in Little Italy; impeccably dressed, polite, even humble, yet under any circumstance, never to be fucked with. 151 is a bonafide veteran of hip-hop and gangland culture, boasting an impressive resume and life story, indicative of an artist on the cusp of stardom. After leaving his first label AWOL, in 1999 (before ever releasing his debut), he signed to Bay Area legend, and former label mate, C-Bo’s new label West Coast Mafia. 151 released Code of the Streets on West Coast Mafia, in 2002, and is currently working on his untitled follow up, due out in 2005.While still considered up and coming, features in national magazines such as XXL and Murder Dog, a hot new album with local sensations, Lac of Respect, as well as a video in rotation on BET, is breaking 151 to a national audience. The video for West Coast Mafia Gang’s “Gangsta’ Pimpin’” (check it out at blastro.com), showcases the group’s All Star line up, which includes 151, Killa Tay, Lil' Cyco, and label head and mentor C-Bo. The connection between the 151 and C-Bo represents a greater connection between the Bay Area and the Northwest. This relationship, tracing back to a legendary 1994 meeting between two outlaws on the run from authorities, has not only left an indelible imprint on the DNA of the Seattle sound, but also helps explain the independent spirit that persists in the Northwest rap game. Regardless of the blind eye the music industry has turned on what very well maybe Hip Hop’s next hot spot, artist such as 151, have assembled a body of work that is forcing major labels to take a closer look at the region.

How did you hook up with C-Bo? Me and C-Bo got a relationship. We’ve been cool since ‘94’. We were just homies, kickin’ it. . .smoke weed. He was new to Seattle (and would) come fuck with me and shit because I know damn near everybody in the town. He heard me rap. Tapes I had made and shit. He took one of my tapes and took off with it, ‘hey, let me get this.’ And you know, took it to the bay. He was working with Mike Mosley at the time (and said), ‘I got this artist in Seattle. He always told me, ‘we gonna do this. I always had faith in him cuzz he’s a good nigga. . .he always means well, but it took a long time, partly because when I went down to Cali, I got introduced to T, who owns AWOL, Freddy Smith. And then I ended up signing to AWOL at the time I didn’t understand Bo was trying to do his own thing, as far as really starting his own label. I mean we were label mates, but I’m somebody else’s artist now, cuzz Bo didn’t own AWOL (but) I learned a lot. A whole lot. Can you explain the connection between the Bay and the Northwest in regards to the Rap game? What I can decipher is that you are either influenced by the Bay, or East Coast backpack rap. (The Bay) Is the closest region (to Seattle) with cars, clothes, and fashion. I would say they are the pioneers of independent game. . .because LA never really felt the bay. . .they have a superiority complex. They really respect East Coast shit, and their own LA shit. They would never show love to the Bay. They couldn’t go to LA and get record deals, (coming) from the bay, because they wasn’t respecten’ their music. So they said fuck it, we’re gonna to it ourselves. ‘Niggaz out here wanna hear out music. . .oh we got Niggaz in Portland. . .we got Seattle, they wanna hear it.’ They really capitalized on the independent game. And really gettin’ money. . .getting $150,000 checks, off of 15,000 records. And they don’t even know who you are. . .but this guy got a video out, and your making more money than him, independent. What do you love about Hip-Hop? You know what I really love about Hip-Hop? I really love the fact it done take a lot of cats out of bad situations. Hip Hop as a whole, has created a whole lot of opportunities for muthafuckaz from the projects, from the ghetto. . .all kinds of situations and obstacles they wouldn’t normally be able to overcome. A nigga that’s fresh out the pen, off a ten year bid, can come out and do a record. . .fuck around and sign a deal Interscope. He didn’t have to have a degree, a diploma, they didn’t do background check. You can go out and get a record deal. You just got off a murder beat. . . and your rich and you can provide for you family. Now there’s a whole lot of jobs that are created by the music business. It’s just a whole lot of fuckin’ shit, that hip-hop created. . .for black youth. And there’s more out there. There’s enough for everybody. There’s not a salary cap on hip-hop. There could be a hundred millionaires runnin’ around with platinum records. I just want to be one of em’. What was the last book you read? The last book I read was Black Gangster by Donald Goines. . .and Ice Berg Slim. . .a lot em’ (stories) are made up, but he was a writer, I like how he wrote. If he was alive today, and he made those books into movies, they’d be entertaining movies. He wrote about issues the hood could relate to, like ‘my uncle was a pimp, he had four hoes, he used to drive an Eldorado.’ I think they was both talented writers. Usually I read books when I’m locked up. You know I did a little time here and there. Not no Penitentiary time, just in county Everybody in hip hop has an opinion, but what do you think of Bill O’Reilly? Bill O’Reilly is a puppet. I’m not sure who has his hand up his ass. But somebody does. If you ruled the world? (long pause) I wouldn’t want to rule the world. That’s a headache. I just want to rule my world. Things that involve me, because everything doesn’t. You got to do you. You got to master your shit, before you pull strings on someone else’s shit.

[count-thotticus]

Tag Game

I was tagged by @faeriexqueen (Thanks so much!!!)

Rules: Answer 30 questions then tag 20 people

Nicknames: None that anyone calls me casually but my best friend calls me Bitch Boy Jojo in response to my calling her Pimp Daddy Lorax (it’s a long story lol)

Gender: Female

Star Sign: Libra

Height: 5′6″ (I say I’m 5′7 but I’ll admit that this is a lie)

Time: 11:15 am

Birthday: September 27th

Favorite Bands: Twenty One Pilots, Fall Out Boy, and Pentatonix

Favorite Solo Artist: Hozier, no question

Song that is Stuck in Your Head: Jumpsuit, Twenty One Pilots

Last Movie: The Quiet Place

Last TV Show: I think bnha

Why I Created this Blog: Back in like 7th grade I started watching Doctor Who and saw that most of the memes and whatever other content was on Tumblr and I wanted m o r e and now I’m trapped

What do you Post/Reblog: D. Gray-Man and shitpost mostly, sometimes stuff from other animes/shows/books I like

Last Thing You Googled: Ice cream places open after 10pm

Other Blogs: @nos-fecit-illud (it’s my aesthetic blog that I can barely run lol)

Why the URL?: It’s an indirect reference to bnha’s Shoto Todoroki who’s quirk, for those who don’t know, is fire on one side and ice on the other. The indirectness comes in that the actual wording is from a fanfic in which Class 1-A is a big group chat and Todoroki’s nickname is spICEy-hot. Also I am both spicey and hot.

I Follow: 394 but like 90% of them have been inactive for the last 3 years

Followers: 284

Lucky Numbers: 14, 23, 34

Instruments: I play marimba and other mallet instruments (though sadly I am poor so I don’t own one :/) and a bit of piano

What are you wearing?:  It’s moving day so athletic shorts and a t-shirt

Dream Job: Surgeon. Have you seen those salaries?? 400k starting??? hell. fucking. yes.

Last Book You Read: I haven’t read a book in a hot minute but I’m currently in the middle of Heir of Fire by Sarah J. Maas

Top 3 Universes: D. Gray-Man, Harry Potter (it’s flawed but being a wizard sounds SICK), and ours bc everything aligned perfectly for Josh Dun, Benedict Cumberbatch, and Sebastian Stan to all exist at the same time. Maybe Homestuck too but shhhhhhh

I Tag:@scionnixie, @mysteriouslypinkconnoisseur, @lavi-inc, @miniaturegardenastronomer, @hevlasxa, @a-lotus-leaf, @brendachanblr, @pinkfcknvibez, @ethiii, @dindouche and anyone else who wants to play can say I tagged you!

[murfeelee]

FF15 - Whaddaya know, more ranting: SUMMONS

curmudgeonness replied to your post “Late Replies! School Blues”  

FFX was not a winner in my book.  I cared for very little of the FF series. The blitzball was a total turnoff and was needed for my favorite character's weapon.  Lost interest very quickly.              

This is EXACTLY the way I feel about FF15. I know I’ve taken some epic dumps on FF13, because I thought the gameplay was wretchedly linear and the storyline was clunky and derivative, but at least it was a visual masterpiece, and emotionally compelling -- even if half those emotions were irritation or frustration.

In FF15 however I'm just BORED. I didn't even finish! I left it hanging somewhere, I don't even care. Once I realized that the Summoning system was STUPID, I threw in the towel.

(Does Carbuncle even qualify as a summon? :P )

The Platinum Demo was so freaking good; they should have gone in that more lighthearted chibi-chan Kingdom Hearts direction instead, IMO.

You get your first two or three summons really early in the game, but first of all, Summons don't work whenever you want them to, like in the other FF games -- you have to meet certain battle conditions, otherwise more than likely you'll only ever end up summoning Ramuh, or Sir Spam-a-lot, as I started calling him.

He’s the easiest one to summon (read: more than likely the only one you’ll ever summon in normal playthroughs) because anyone can be in danger in order to get him to help. Which he does. All the time. Every boss fight. Ad nauseum.

I was so thoroughly sick of looking at this dude.

The first summon you get is actually Titan, but I didn’t even realize he was an actual SUMMON until I went online for help for something else long after I got Ramuh’s behind. You can only call on Titan if you’re out in the open and your ALLIES are out of HP. Screw them -- what about MEEEE!?!

And put some GOSHDARN CLOTHES ON, Who the EFF do you think you are!? 

So, this actually sucks, because most of your major battles in FF15 happen INDOORS, like in those underground caves you’re crawling around in for effing ever to grab the ancient weapons of yada  yada some long-dead relative. Meanwhile, Ramuh’s big butt shows up in ALL the dungeons, and he’s just as gigantic as Titan is -- they’re like the same size; THE EFF!? So...thanks. Thanks a lot, Titan. I hope Eren Jaeger kills your whole family.

After Titan and Ramuh, you get what is quite possibly the most BAMF personality in FF15: the Hydraen/Leviathan, who I freeeaakkkiiiiinnnggg LOVE, because SHE IS SUCH A MEAN WENCH! XD

(And a sea dragon, hohoho.)

Unfortunately, you will never see this evil heifer, because you can only summon her if you’re in danger close to an ocean. Seriously. If you’re not next to a literal effton of water, don’t bother; she’s not showing up. And considering the appalling level of F*KERY involved in even beating the Leviathan in that ridiculous Trial of hers (where she’s literally pimp slapping poor Lunafreya around), this is CRAZY how useless she is! How many times are you going to need THAT kind of power at the beach? Was the volleyball THAT intense?

Next up is a sneak-in whose secret identity I won’t give away (but the reveal was AWESOME), but yes, Shiva comes back! ^0^ And she’s weird. In more ways than one -- pun not intended, there really is more than one of her though.

I’m not crazy about her new design (I LOVE her secret identity look, omg, but as a summon I don't think she looks all that different from every other FF Shiva outside of FF10, which had the best-looking Shiva IMO in her Aeon form.) But whatever; she’s still...busty.

Honestly? I liked FF13′s Shiva A LOT. I don’t understand why people freak out about SE turning FF13-Shiva into a twin pair of sisters and a motorcycle.

The Eidolons were all Magical Machine MOUNTS the characters could ride, to fit the scifi futuristic vibe (Lightning’s a valkyrie-wannabe so Odin was cosplaying as Sleipnir, Fang got Bahamut so he was of course a dragon, the others got battle mecha, etc.). Shiva was Snow’s Eidolon (no duh -- snow...ice...lol), so WTH ride did you think Snow would get other than a dope-looking bike with babes on it?

Whatever, back to FF15-Shiva: I’ve never done it, but apparently you can only summon her if Noctis is the last man standing and stays in danger for a really long time without being killed. ??? Who.... Is playing their game like this? Why would you do that?

(Understand, the Astrals in FF15 are OP. Like, seriously overpowered. One move from them is all they need; they OBLITERATE everything on the screen, they really do. I can understand SE wanting to prevent us from abusing the summons too much, but come the eff on. Come on.)

And there’s one more time she pops up, to help you get your next summon, who isn’t even a summon, but rather a Boss, that you actually encounter via flashback/foreshadowing at the very start of the game, then comes back way later.,...

Ifrit.

Who is, pun totally intended: HOT now.

UNF! <3

Gone is werewolf-looking hellhound monster thing from the other FF games. He is now a full-blown djinn-looking half-goat IFRIT, and I love it. SADLY, as I said, he’s NOT an Astral that you can actually SUMMON now; he’s just a Boss, and that SUUUUCKS!!! And he’s TOUGH AS NAILS, too. Shiva has to come in at the last second to deliver the killing blow, because the man literally cannot be beat.

And apparently, there’s a lil’ sum-sum going on with Ms Shiva and Mr Ifrit, heyheyhey. ;)

(She literally kisses him before she Diamond Dusts him, it’s interesting.)

But this boss fight is over the top, because there’s one other summon-not-summon that has to join in to help gang-bang and defeat Ifrit, and this nearly broke my EFFING heart because I was REALLY looking forward to wreaking total havoc on mofos in this game with him:

My baby’s daddy:

BAHAMUT.

Who cannot be summoned.

And is not a dragon anymore.

And talks too effing much. (This coming from someone who literally writes walls of text.) But no really -- he talks for like a good 20 minutes; he's a freaking encyclopedia of game lore information. Kinda like Maechen from FFX-2. But cooler.

He’s like some strange divine uber-giant dragoon warrior made completely of swords or something, IDFK. His voice was cool though. You can barely see his face under his “dragon“ mask, but I bet he’s hot, too.

I can’t WAIT to get my hands on the game models; first thing I’m doing is snatching that G-D mask off of Bahamut to see what he really looks like under there.

So.

Out of the SIX Astrals in the game, you can only summon FOUR, and at least TWO of them are on some bullsh!t and barely ever can be effed at all to show up.

GG.

[oldladydatin]

Unfiltered

Yesterday I got a notification from tumblr to write something unfiltered, to be brave. Well I’ve had something on my mind alot lately, something I’d normally be afraid to share. I’ve been thinking about it because I’ve been having nightmares, about none other than Eric. I’ve had nightmares off and on, frequently not so much nightmares as just recalling things he did to me. When I told him I didn’t want him in my life anymore I was afraid, for many reasons. Besides the actual physical attacks I endured there were other strange things that had happened. I remember going to Vegas with Mark and he just stopped talking to me and of course I was hurt but I started to feel okay after awhile. Then I received a text and he said he had been in jail and he was embarrassed about it and asked to see me. I didn’t know if I wanted to see him, I tried to get out of it by being like well when I get out of work I’m going grocery shopping and I’m tired whatever. Normal people would say okay well it doesn’t have to be today but no he insisted, he said he’d see me after, I really didn’t want to see him. I got home and took a shower first because I felt gross from work and by the time I got out of the shower he had texted me to ask if I was home yet. I got dressed and texted back that I had and he said he was near by then boom he was at my door. It was like an uncomfortably short amount of time. Like he had been outside when I got home or something. It made me really nervous. He made comments like if he wanted to know if something was going on he wouldn’t ask me he’d find out other ways. He was telling me about a book Dave Chapelle discussed in his stand up about this pimp. He told me that this pimp made his girls loyal by beating them excessively with a coat hanger and then taking care of them all weekend so in the end they were grateful. He had this really uncomfortable look on his face, I remember feeling sick by that, because it was like he thought that was genuinely a great idea. Just some really inconsistent things. Between that and everything I experienced I was all too aware he might really be mentally ill and I might set him off by not wanting him in my life anymore. I also knew I had these really strong feelings about him that I didn’t always feel in control of so I posted on facebook that I changed my number because of him and that I hadn’t been completely honest about our relationship and that he had attacked me more than once, non consensually, unfairly, and I just wanted him out of my life. I guess I felt like that was the best way to, burn that bridge, I felt like if people in my life knew how unhealthy this was that I wouldn’t go back and people in my life would only reinforce this. I changed my locks, I put a few extra cameras up incase he showed up and attacked me again and I promised myself I’d press charges the next time. I smudged my room because I felt uncomfortable in my room, I got the new car and I had the windows tinted day one, and I parked my car in the garage so he wouldn’t know if I was coming or going incase he really did do something crazy. I joined this group on facebook with women who were abused because I didn’t understand ya know, how did I let this go on, how did I end up with this guy. Not that I necessarily think I’m better than others I think I’m better than this and how on earth did I end up here. So I’ve been having the nightmares again and I’m on this page and some girl posted that the women in this group should stop whining and they’re to blame etc etc and it hit a nerve. My best friend said something like what were you thinking you know better than to let someone put their hands on you. I corrected her because the most terrifying points I fought I didn’t let this happen to me, maybe by allowing him in my life after and thinking it wouldn’t happen again but I didn’t just do nothing. But I can’t help but wonder what led up to me being in this situation? Or honestly any of these fucked up situations I’ve found myself in. How did I end up married to a man who put me down and beat my kids? I think that’s a legitimate question because I don’t want to spend my life being a battered woman. So what started as a decision to not waste so much time dating and focus on my goals, has turned into maybe I need to be single and celibate until I’m healthy, maybe I need to stop dating and work on myself. 

One thing I think led to this is being raised in an abusive household. There’s a real culture of abuse in my family. When I was growing up both my parents were abusive. I don’t have a lot of good memories of my childhood. I remember being called a bitch, fat, lazy, stupid, you name it, by BOTH my parents. In middle school I was seeing a therapist because I was really depressed and anxious and she wanted to have me tested for ADHD, I was failing classes, and I wasn’t really trying but I was also having trouble focusing on anything. I don’t know that I had or ever had ADHD, as a grown up I realize depression and anxiety can cause difficulty with focus but I knew things weren’t okay. My son is ADHD and his therapist says there’s a lot of evidence it’s genetic, so it’s possible. So I brought this up to my Dad. My Dad blew up and threw a book at my face and told me there was nothing wrong with me that I was just a lazy ass bitch who needed to open a book, it hurt enough I remember it 30 years later. I remember being beat with an axe handle because I ran out the door to go play and the door didn’t close and my Dad said it was because I didn’t shut the door but I knew I had, so I wouldn’t say I left it open. He beat me until I had bruises and I remember screaming because I was worried about getting hit with the sharp part of the axe. Turned out the door was broken and wouldn’t latch. I remember my Mom pinning me down on the bed and slapping and punching me because I laughed at an inappropriate time. I watched my brothers head dent my wall from the other side of the wall because my Dad threw his head threw it. My friend recently told me she didn’t want to stay the night at my house when we were kids because one time when she was over my Dad pulled my pants down and beat me with a hair brush and then made me sit on the couch and watch everyone else eat cookies and they kept trying to get her to join in. I was frequently denied food. Even as a grown up I wouldn’t go see this doctor my Mom swore by because I remember as a 3rd grader he encouraged my parents to put me on a 1000 calorie diet. I remember crying and begging my Mom for food because I was so hungry. My Dad tried to put me on the slim fast diet that same year, and then tried to convince me to go to a fat camp, and I look at pictures of me during this time and I wasn’t even that overweight. My weight has always been a subject of ridicule from both my parents, even as an adult. I went home when I was pregnant with my son because I was sick and and needed help. I ended up septic with cellulitis and I was holding ice packs on my stomach to sleep because they wouldn’t take me to the ED because they felt nothing was wrong. My Dad told me the only thing that was wrong with me was that my fat ass needed to get up and do more. The night before I ended up in the hospital for two months they took me to the mall for my birthday so I could walk because they didn’t feel like I was moving enough. Then tried to take me to Applebees for my birthday because they had a low fat menu. I had just turned 30 and I was home and they initially forgot my birthday so this insult was their attempt to make amends. After I realized that they’d forgot my birthday I took my daughter to get ice cream and go to the beach alone. For my ex husbands birthday they threw him a surprise party, for me as an after thought they tried to make me go to a restaurant I didn’t even like because they had a menu that would hopefully help me not be such a fat ass. The kicker, everyone in my family is overweight, not just me. Infact I look like my Dad in that respect. I remember going to my Grandmas house when I was 8 or 9 and passing a cemetery and wishing I was there, my Dad had just beat the shit out of me for getting an attitude with him or something that earned a seriously disproportionate reaction, and then he made me go to the bathroom and wash my face with cold water which he always did if we were crying too hard and then he was taking me to my Grandmas because he had to do something over there. I just thought if this is what my life is going to be like I’d rather be dead. To be honest the happiest my parents have ever been with me was when I married my husband. In therapy I read a book about a narcissistic Dad and it was creepy how similar the Dad in the book was to my Dad. All the way down to pitting siblings against each other. Because to this day my brother and sister and I are in some giant competition with each other for my parents approval. I’ve opted out, it’s why I didn’t move home because while I could recognize that Eric and my ex were damaging to my life, I could recognize my parents are just as damaging to it. The really crazy thing is my Dad and Mom will tell me how happy or proud they are of my brother and sister but never that they’re happy or proud of me. But over the years I’ve come to realize they do this to them in regards to me. So we are all trying to get their approval because they won’t ever compliment me to me or my sister to my sister. Now they do this with their grandkids, so my sister and sister in law are in some war over this, I’ve opted out. I will occasionally find myself getting upset because my kids are frequently forgotten but then I think about my childhood and I think maybe that’s a good thing. I don’t want my kids exposed to this. I think all these experiences really groomed me to be okay with being abused. Then of course as a teenager I dated a guy who cheated on me and lied to me all the time, like ALL THE TIME. I didn’t ever stand up for myself, I think now I maybe didn’t realize I deserved to be treated better. Then I was raped, I never said anything to anyone about that. Infact the guy showed up to lunch and asked me to go riding around with him the next monday like nothing happened. My best friend knew something happened. I was hanging at her house and he showed up and I acted really weird as she said and then I took off. She kept asking me what happened, what he did, and all I said was she’d be smart to keep him out of her house and away from her daughter. I was so ashamed and I just wanted to pretend like nothing had happened.

Eventually I got married and he was everything I could’ve asked for. He made me feel safe and confident. He was calm and always happy. When we left Michigan and my husband started working in his professional job, something changed. He really started to treat me like he was better than me or something. I was struggling so much at that point with post pardum depression and I initially felt like it was because I was letting him down because I sometimes couldn’t get out of bed. I ended up in the hospital for weeks at a time, I was on drugs. But even as I started to recover he did this and it gradually got worse. Nursing school pushed him over the edge. He frequently told people I wouldn’t do it I’d just quit. He started putting me down really passive aggressively, then more directly. I’d ask him to help me or ask him to do something around the house and it was almost like he intentionally wouldn’t just because I asked, it really was that childish. We fought constantly about money and housework, from the beginning. He didn’t do housework, I almost didn’t marry him over this. We got engaged and moved in together and I quickly found out that he was gross. That sounds mean but it’s true. We have actually thrown away 2 stoves because he will not clean the stove top, but he insists on cooking. So no matter how big my workload was I was still expected to do all the housework. So when I worked 70 hours a week, with a new born and post pardum depression, to put him through college I was expected to clean just like I did when I was a stay at home mom or a freelance artist. When I was going to school full time, working part time and still doing everything I did with the kids like I did when I was a stay at home mom, I was still expected to do 100% of the house work. I was exhausted. If I spent money on myself at all it caused a fight. We struggled with bills, and even when I was struggling to feed the kids he wouldn’t work overtime. He also insisted on getting an allowance so that all his money didn’t go to bills and even if I was struggling to feed the kids he insisted on an allowance, that was also exhausting. He would tell the kids we didn’t have the money to do anything because I wasted all of our money when in reality there just wasn’t enough money. He frequently involved the kids in our fights. He’d make fun of me in front of them and his friends. The abuse towards the kids didn’t start until they got older. At first I honestly didn’t even recognize it as abuse, it wasn’t that much different than what I experienced growing up. We’d occasionally have fights about that, if I felt like he went too far I’d bring it up and we’d fight. If he called the kids names I’d get mad. He frequently called my daughter a bitch. I think of all the things I dealt with growing up the name calling was the worst, being put down was the worst. To this day I hear my Dads voice in my head calling me fat and stupid and lazy. So I was really sensitive to that. It was like well she talked back of course she should get smacked across the face, she lied or whatever. Until my daughter lost it at school and admitted she was planning to kill herself. My 7 year old was having the same thoughts I had as a kid driving past a cemetery. I cried and cried and cried, because I knew exactly what she was feeling. I rarely hit my kids, like occasional spankings and never when I was mad. I just felt like after the things I had gone through with my parents I had the potential of going too far and I didn’t want to hurt my kids. With that though I knew I had to make changes, it was no longer optional. It’s sad that him insulting me wasn’t enough to make me leave though? Isn’t it? The first time he stood there with a bunch of people and made jokes about how stupid I was, while I held back tears because I felt so hurt and betrayed by that, should’ve been the first time I thought about leaving. But my self worth was so bad that him treating me like that wasn’t what made me want to leave, it was him hurting my kids. But what did I do? I clung to another man who would only treat me worse?

There were many occasions where Eric did things that should’ve been a red flag. I came to see him, and mind you I lived 210 miles away so it wasn’t a small thing to come see him at that time. I’d get here he’d have time to have sex and then he’d leave and that was it. So I’d make comments that all he wanted from me was sex and he’d say no no and give me some line. But it was, that’s all the relationship he wanted from me. I never came back from seeing him and was happy, I didn’t like feeling used and cheap but I don’t know why I just had these feeling for him. Then there was the time he used me to get a blow job and then just took off and never came back and laid in bed and cried. I felt incredibly used, but again I continued to see him. I wish these were the worst things that he had done to me, I really do. The first time he was violent was one fall I drove to see him after my night shift job, so worked 12 hours and then drove 3.5 hours to see him because I was just so in love and he said come take a nap with me so I did. I remember feeling so happy that he wanted to see me. I get here and he tells me he’s mad that I failed a test and he grabbed me by my throat and pushed up until I was on my tippy toes and told me he was upset. He proceeded to “punish” me. He took his phone out and took pictures during this, which I was upset about, I didn’t say anything though, I tried to ignore it but I was upset about it, during, after, everytime he brought the pictures up. We didn’t talk about pictures, we didn’t talk about punishment, we didn’t discuss any of this, the pictures weren’t consensual. To tell you how much I trusted this guy I was also in love with, after I left his house I did nothing but worry he’d share them, or put them online, I was so stressed out, I still to this day worry about it. This evolved from being beat with a cane, to him biting me and staring at me like he was hoping to make me cry, to him deciding to fist me. I didn’t want to be fisted either, we hadn’t talked about that but he did it and he kept doing it until he said he wanted to hear me screaming. Like he wanted to hurt me. Then he almost abruptly threw me out, grabbed a bunch of stuff in a giant hurry and left. The days proceeding this were shocking. So by the time I got to my friends house my whole vagina had swelled up, like this was actually a lot of trauma, to the point where I got to her house and struggled to pee. More shocking than this I told him about it and he didn’t really care. Like if I had done something to someones penis that caused it to swell up I’d be horrified and I’d go see them or I’d act really remorseful but he didn’t do anything. When I was at his house I had this feeling that there was someone else. Like he really might have done this to me then threw me out like trash to go see his girlfriend or something? Slowly the swelling improved over the next day, he didn’t check up on me to see if it was better, like he truly didn’t care that he had hurt me. With the bdsm stuff if I was with someone trying new things like that we would have some pretty extensive after care, but there would have been some pretty extensive discussion before hand too and there wasn’t. Like if it had been someone else I would have stayed the night, or if I had called to say there was an issue they would’ve come to me or insisted I would’ve come to them, something. There would have been more support. But this wasn’t bdsm this was abuse, I was just entertainment and he had been entertained and it was over. That week I went to look at his page on this bdsm site and he blocked me. He tried to play it off like no he just deleted his account but I’ve family that’s on the same site and I asked my cousin to look, my cousin by the way hates this guy, she thinks he is everything that makes the bdsm community look bad. He still had his page. He denied it and denied it, but I had no idea why he blocked me, but I had had that feeling there was another girl. I didn’t want to keep asking my cousin to look so my friend and I created another page and just kept checking and a month or so later I confirmed it was another girl. This would be the first time he told me he loved me, it wasn’t because he loved me, it was because I was leaving because I knew he was lying. I have no clue why he cared? He was just trying to protect his occasional piece of ass? I have no idea, because I knew he didn’t care about me. He really did at this point suspend his account and he said whatever he had to to smooth things over. I think why didn’t I leave him alone at that? Every bit of that should’ve made me think okay I’m in a relationship with a horrible person. But no what did I do? I made plans to move there, because while he was abusing me he said something that stuck to me, he said I needed to get through nursing school so I could come home to him. That really impacted me emotionally. I have no idea why you’d say something so profound if you didn’t mean it? Just like why would you tell someone you loved them if you didn’t? I can’t answer that because I am not a bad person, so I don’t act like that. I don’t abuse the people in my life, so I don’t know how to explain the behavior of someone who does. In the end I made excuses for all of this. I thought well I’ll talk to him about the pictures, maybe this was just punishment that went over board, maybe he doesn’t understand aftercare, he’s new to bdsm. He didn’t care, not about any of it, this wasn’t bdsm this was abuse. 

Other than the fact that he was just a complete piece of shit who walked all over me nothing really violent happened for quite a long time. I moved here, he’d come for sex then ignore me. I’d see things or notice things here and there that made me aware there were others. I should’ve kicked him out of my life 10 billion times but didn’t. I don’t know why, I feel like this is a problem, I think the fact that I allowed any of his behavior into my life is a giant red flag that maybe something is wrong with me, but I did. Eventually we were allegedly dating, because there were still others, so I was committed but he was not and I remember we had a conversation about how I some of my needs weren’t being met. He came over one night and it was rough, but quickly felt out of control to me. I remember fighting back, I don’t remember this as vividly but I remember him wrapping my hair around my bed frame and tying my feet together and beating me with my canes, and I remember crying. I remember thinking this can’t be happening to me. I remember laying there, not being able to fight him anymore thinking it was over, I really couldn’t be with this guy anymore. I remember he’d beat me and randomly stop and fuck me and I felt disgusted by the fact that he was turned on. Because I was screaming and crying. I don’t know about most people but if I have to pin and tie down the person I’m sleeping with while they are screaming and crying, I wouldn’t be in the mood anymore. Even with the sadists I had been with there would always be a point where they knew I was at my limit and the focus wouldn’t be sexual anymore. But this man was not only in the mood he was continuing. I don’t completely remember why I was being punished, but this was allegedly punishment for something. I remember crying and laying still and just saying Daddy, because that’s what I called him, and then he stopped for no reason. He let me go and he held me until I calmed down. Alot of times by the end of these things he made me feel like I had done something good for him, like I had made him happy and we’d have sex. I didn’t always want to but I felt like I had to. The bad thing about this was my daughter heard it, she heard him hitting me and me screaming and crying. When he left I walked out of my room and she was on the stairs crying, she was scared but didn’t know what to do, she was considering calling the cops. I didn’t know what to say to her? I wanted our new place to feel safe to her so I didn’t want to tell her what had happened. I played it off like we were just having a little fun and I was sorry she heard it. She still brings it up but now she thinks I’m loud when I have sex. I should have ended it there, because now it was effecting my kids but I didn’t. And this just got worse. Again I played this off like we just really needed to talk about it, that this wasn’t acceptable punishment and I was going to tell him that. He didn’t care, because this wasn’t a bdsm relationship, this was an abusive one. 

Eventually someone sends me this picture of him with another girl and I had to do something. Again that should’ve just been it but I thought well maybe he’ll just be honest with me now and we’d talk to out? I’ve had friends who had a spouse cheat and they went to counseling and their relationship was actually stronger. I thought maybe we’d work together and have a stronger relationship, maybe he’d be honest with me. He wasn’t, cause this wasn’t that guy, he didn’t really care about me or our relationship. He said he ended it with the other girl, he’d give me really inconsistent information about their relationship. I messaged her, the only question I had was does he call you princess, she didn’t respond, if she had I probably would’ve ended it because I’m sure he did, it wasn’t special to him just to me. When it seemed obvious he didn’t care I got on a dating app and started talking to men. One day he came to my house, it was a saturday morning, at the time I worked friday nights. And he acted like he wanted to see me, like he wanted sex, and we start having sex, this is the time I remember vividly. I was on my stomach and he wrapped his wife beater around my neck and pulled. At first this felt good I like to be choked but soon my fingers and toes started tingling and everything started sounding muffled. I remember feeling stunned like I wasn’t completely sure of what was happening. Then I heard him say so you want to send pictures to other men huh? And I legit panicked I knew what was going to happen next I was terrified and I started to try to fight to get away and he forced my hands into the restraints on my bed with me screaming and crying, please don’t, please stop. I was kicking and the was sitting on my legs. this went on for what seemed like forever. Just like the time before he beat me with my canes, he broke one, he bite me, he pulled my hair, he choked me, he stopped randomly and fucked me, all while I was crying and screaming and trying to fight him off me. I was begging him to stop. My kids weren’t home this time. I remember thinking about my friend Lori. I had a friend who was killed by her fiance when she ended it. She was beat in the head with a hammer, thrown in her car, drove a ways up the highway, and then he parked on the side of the road and set the car on fire and hitch hiked home. I thought I’m going to end up just like Lori, I really was afraid he was going to kill me. He wasn’t stopping, he didn’t care, he was sexually excited by this. I just kept thinking it’s over and I’m not being dramatic, I was that afraid. I decided at some point to try to get the restraints off my wrists and I managed to and that’s when he stopped. He got off me and I jumped off the bed and just cried, I was terrified of him. He kept trying to make it about other stuff, he kept saying over and over he loved me. He clearly didn’t love me. I cried the entire day, he got me to calm down long enough for him to leave and I started crying again. I thought about calling the cops, I was covered in bruises. I remember getting up for work because I had to go to work and he came back and I was scared. He brought roses, I really felt like I was in some stupid lifetime movie, he brought roses, he sexually tortured me and then he brought me roses. What a psycho! We had sex and I didn’t want to, I wanted him to leave, but I was afraid. It was very affectionate sex, like maybe he knew he went too far this time. I don’t think he felt sorry but I think he knew it wasn’t ok. It was the worst day. I remember walking into my job having not slept, having cried all day and being covered in bruises and I couldn’t even hold my purse on my shoulders. Through all the fighting I didn’t realize how bruised I was. I went in the bathroom and took pictures, I still have them, I was covered in bruises. I found bruises on my legs, back, breasts, stomach, I was covered. I used to get excited about bruises, it was like a reminder of a fun time. These made me sick to my stomach. There were other incidents after this but mostly he had basically bailed on me at that point. But he came over and we were going to have sex. I had bought this vibrator a guy I had went to this concert with had wanted me to buy so we could use it together because he lived like 3 hours away. I bought it but him and I weren’t seeing eachother and eventually I shared it with Eric. We tried to use it once but it didn’t go well and he claimed to want to see how it worked. He pulled my shirt over my head while we were having sex and I was nervous because he had his phone out to use the app and he had taken pictures of me without asking me permission before. So I was worried. It wasn’t until later that I found out that yes he did take a video of me with my shirt pulled over my head. Then he started threatening me. Eventually he started threatening to carve his initials in my boob and I just started crying. I was so scared of him, I thought he’d do it. I screamed and I cried and he stopped. He said you know I’d never do anything to hurt you. But he had, on multiple occasions. He absolutely would have. After that I changed my locks. After that I knew it was over, despite every little thing that happened after that, I was actually afraid of him and I knew this would continue no matter what I did. I have on occasion thought about going to the cops with my pictures and asking what I could do. More so because I remember that feeling of finding out my rapist had raped other people, I felt like I could’ve stopped it. Clearly this man is dangerous, maybe I could stop it. The charges he is already on probation for are all the same things he did to me. I think the fact that he did this to someone else and he got a year of probation is disgusting. It says a lot about how and why so much violence against women happens. And it’s why I didn’t go to the cops because they obviously didn’t care about who ever he hurt before me. After the nightmares lately I’m definitely considering therapy. I think maybe it’s good to take time from dating and work on myself because he did break me, and the worst part is he’s not even sorry.

So now I am paranoid about things in my life. I broke down on the side of the road close to my house and I panicked, I called everyone whose number I knew because I felt like I wasn’t safe, I felt like I had finally got him out of my life and I had finally broke that hold he had over my mind and I felt vulnerable sitting there on the side of the road. When my friend showed up I was shaking and I couldn’t even explain it. I did eventually tell her that that guy I was seeing he had hurt me and I just knew if he saw me on the side of the road he’d stop and if he’d stop I’d be in love all over again and he could hurt me again. Turned out she had been in an abusive relationship before and she completely understood. She helped me get my car home and now I feel a lot less alone. I got my new car and took it the next day to get it tinted, I was insanely insistent it happened immediately. I didn’t want to be driving around and have him see me in my new car incase he is watching me. If I had the money I’d have moved immediately. But I feel stronger now and I don’t think I’d so easily let him in again. But I don’t want the next guy to be someone like him, or my ex, or my Dad, I deserve peace and happiness in my life. So I’m taking a break for myself. I’ve smudged my house now, my weird native friend Darcy who was convinced I was a healer had showed me how when I was a kid, he taught me a lot actually. I’ve a bag of stones he put together for me for protection and I took it out. I’ve smudged my room more than once now and I think it helped. I asked a friend of mine who deals in crystals what she thought because it still feels heavy upstairs and I ordered a large orb recently. My goal is peace and happiness, no matter how much sage and sweet grass I have to burn. But counseling I think is needed. 

[itsfinancethings]

October 25, 2019 at 10:25PM

Many people say that hip-hop was birthed by DJ Kool Herc on a 1973 summer evening in the Bronx. Others point to the release of the 1979 Sugarhill Gang song “Rapper’s Delight” as the moment when the genre was catapulted into the national consciousness.

But several years before either of those moments, Rudy Ray Moore was rhyming over a beat. On his 1970 album Eat Out More Often, the comedian, propelled by a backing band, spit profane and slang-laced poems about America’s mystical underbelly of prostitutes, hustlers and thieves — including one character named Dolemite, a slick-talking, karate-chopping pimp who exposed corrupt officials and defeated seedy rivals.

This quasi-musical performance of Moore’s recording is dramatized in Dolemite Is My Name, a new film that arrived on Netflix on Friday and stars Eddie Murphy as Moore, who died in 2008. The film traces Moore’s reinvention from struggling comedian and record shop employee to movie star in his own film, Dolemite, which would become a beloved cult favorite in 1975.

But while the movie faithfully depicts Moore’s rise, it ends before it can explore the primary way he remains influential in modern culture: through hip-hop. At every step of hip-hop’s four-decade history, artists have imitated not only Moore’s rhyming style, but nearly every facet of his act. “All these things that hip-hop became — the image, the swag, the independence, the sh-t-talking — he was it before it was called hip-hop,” the West Coast hip-hop pioneer Too $hort tells TIME.

While Moore’s act would be considered decidedly misogynistic today, he put forth an alluring alternative model of success for black men, and his do-it-yourself spirit paved the way for generations of musicians and entrepreneurs. Below, several prominent hip-hop artists from across the decades — Too $hort, Big Daddy Kane, Del the Funky Homosapien and Luther “Uncle Luke” Campbell — talk about Moore’s impact on their own art.

“He was the first really to be rapping”

Moore’s rapping on Eat Out More Often was a far cry from what hip-hop would become: his words weren’t rhythmically aligned to the music, and the beats were jazzy as opposed to funk-based. But his unique, bombastic delivery on that record — filled with black vernacular, growling catchphrases, and eye-popping profanity — set many precedents. His theme song to Dolemite’s 1976 sequel, The Human Tornado, got even closer to rap before it was rap: over a funky breakbeat, Moore crooned a few lines before spitting a rapid-fire, multi-syllabic bar: “I don’t want no dilapidated seep-sapping pigeon-toed, cross-eyed, bow-legged son-of-a-gun messing with me,” he snarls.

When Del the Funky Homosapien was a teenager starting his rap career in the early ’90s in Oakland, he was introduced to Dolemite at a friend’s recording studio and was bowled over by Moore’s verbal prowess. “I was like, ‘This is wild,’” he told TIME. Intrigued, Del went back through Moore’s discography and realized it contained the blueprint for rap. “I would be studying his monologues — how to really rap,” he says. “He was the first really to be rapping damn near like that… Having people captivated just by how you’re talking. I wanted to see how he was doing it.”

Del would go on to achieve critical acclaim throughout the ’90s for his tongue-twisting and off-kilter bravado. Meanwhile, another rapper had ascended out of the same city wielding a profane boisterousness: Too $hort. Of all the rapper’s colorful obscenities, he became known for a particular curse word — ”b-tch” — that he delivered in a way not dissimilar to Rudy Ray Moore. Too $hort says this is no accident, given that he saw The Human Tornado “probably a hundred times.”

“There’s no way on earth I could ever fix my mouth to say I’m not influenced by him,” he says. “Part of the makeover of Too $hort comes from listening to Rudy Ray Moore’s rhythmic cadence, his attitude, the way he curses.”

Moore’s influence on rapping was not just stylistic but structural. On his records, he weaved long-winded and uproarious narratives about society’s underworld, full of sexcapades and brawls. Curtis Sherrod, the executive director of the Hip Hop Culture Center in Harlem, says that Moore provided a direct link between griots — West African historians and storytellers — and more recent hip-hop narratives. “He didn’t know he was a griot, but it was in his DNA,” Sherrod says. “He was able to tell stories and captivate audiences who were experiencing oppression and needed to have an hour window into this fable mystery fantastic life he gave you.”

In the years to come, comedic storytelling that often involved sex and violence, from Slick Rick’s “La Di Da Di” to Biz Markie’s “The Vapors” to Snoop Dogg’s “Murder Was the Case,” would become an integral part of hip-hop’s DNA.

“We don’t have to ask for it”

When Kanye West rapped “we never had nothing handed, took nothing for granted” on the opening song to his debut record The College Dropout, he could have been talking about Rudy Ray Moore. Dolemite Is My Name depicts Moore’s struggle to be taken seriously when trying to break into the film industry: he was repeatedly told by executives that his lewd and black-oriented sensibilities were unsuitable for mass consumption. But Moore wouldn’t take no for an answer: he spearheaded Dolemite by fronting the money himself, creating his own distribution networks and learning how to make a movie on the job.

His dogged self-belief and independence would become a model for future rappers to create their own lanes as opposed to ceding creative control. Early in Too $hort’s career, for example, he sold cassette tapes out of the trunk of his car, formed his own label and forged an alter ego built on unshakeable confidence. He would eventually become a leader of the West Coast sound and a massive seller in the 1990s and 2000s. “He passed on that entrepreneurial spirit where we don’t have to ask for it, we just do it ourselves,” Too $hort says of Moore. “In my early days, he was definitely as influential as any rapper.”

Around the same time, the Miami DJ Luther “Uncle Luke” Campbell was hoping to ascend in a city that had little hip-hop legacy. Rather than sign to a label, Campbell was inspired by Moore to go it himself and start Luke Records, one of the very first hip-hop labels in the South. “You watched a Rudy Ray Moore movie and saw he produced it, directed it, marketed his music and did everything else,” Campbell tells TIME. “He always inspired me to say, “Okay, if Rudy Ray Moore can do it, I can do it.”

As the leader of 2 Live Crew, Campbell furthered Moore’s legacy through his unhinged bawdiness. 2 Live Crew’s records contained graphic depictions of sex — and many samples of Moore’s voice —and found a massive audience for a level of obscenity that record labels would have thought unthinkable. 2 Live Crew also proved startlingly important to the future of hip-hop through their involvement in two legal cases related to free speech. In 1990, Luke and other group members were arrested for obscenity charges, but they were eventually acquitted and the charges were overturned on the grounds of free speech. The same year, the group was sued for its interpolation of Roy Orbison’s “Oh, Pretty Woman,” with the case going all the way to the Supreme Court. In 1994, the court ruled in favor of 2 Live Crew and set the standard for protecting works of parody.

“If it weren’t for Rudy Ray Moore, we would have never done those songs,” Campbell says. “He has just as much credit for our career and our success as us doing the music.”

“The Pimp Persona”

While Moore played many characters, none had an impact as monumental as Dolemite. From The Mack to Superfly to Willie Dynamite, Dolemite arrived amidst a ’70s renaissance of fictional black pimps who would set a template for countless hip-hop stars. “I loved the pimp persona,” Too $hort says. “He would kick your ass, and he was about the money. Then he would stop on the street and start rapping to the homies. It’s like, this guy is the ultimate guy.”

In an era directly following the Watts riots, the Vietnam War and widespread urban rot, the pimp became a mythological figure; a larger-than-life, self-made renegade trying to claim autonomy in an unjust world. “If the leader of this country is stealing and getting away clean, what the hell are we supposed to do?” one character says in Dolemite, referring to Richard Nixon. Embracing pimp narratives wasn’t just about escapism, but a rebellion against traditional modes of American success.

So many rappers — from Snoop Dogg to Ice-T to Big Boi — adopted the persona, wearing colorful, flashy clothing and wide-brimmed hats. Their demeanor dripped with laidback aplomb. “I studied The Mack and Rudy Ray Moore / They were my idols when I was a kid,” Big Boi rapped on Outkast’s 1994 debut album, Southernplayalisticadillacmuzik. There was Jay-Z’s “Big Pimpin’,” 50 Cent’s “P.I.M.P”, and even this year, Megan Thee Stallion’s “Pimpin’,” which flips gender dynamics on their head in its celebration of sex and power.

And Dolemite, the archetype for many of these boasts, would be name-dropped over and over throughout the years by countless stars, both an inside joke and an homage. Snoop Dogg, the Wu-Tang Clan, Eazy-E, the Beastie Boys, Lupe Fiasco and A$AP Rocky have all slipped his name in verses, while Moore’s crackling voice has been sampled by Big Sean, Dr. Dre and A Tribe Called Quest.

Several rappers even went one step further and brought Moore into the studio with them, using him as a torchbearer and literalizing the lineage between them. On the intro to Busta Rhymes’ 2001 album Genesis, Moore implores Busta to “continue to give it to ‘em raw.” On Method Man’s Tical, Moore asserts he “taught the boy everything he know.” Moore also appears as Dolemite in Eric B and Rakim’s 1990 music video for “In the Ghetto.”

That same year, Big Daddy Kane — one of the biggest rappers at the time — staged a rap battle between him and a 63-year-old Moore on record. On “Big Daddy vs. Dolemite,” the two engaged in a vulgar game of one-upmanship before Kane conceded defeat. “He was doing the body shaking and everything,” Kane remembers about that day. “He went straight into character.”

Kane has a long history of engaging with Moore’s work: after watching The Human Tornado on repeat on his tour bus, he sampled a beat for his 1989 song “Children R The Future” by hooking up the VHS tape straight into his recording equipment. And one of Moore’s quips, “Put your weight on it!,” became the basis of Kane’s 1990 song with the same name. “He was that raw comedian that stayed raw,” Kane said. “He was someone I respected and looked at as an icon.”

Kane stayed in touch with Moore through the last decade of his life and says that despite all of the respect Moore received from the hip-hop community, he “died bitter.” “He died feeling like, ‘Y’all gives props to Richard Pryor, Eddie Murphy, Redd Foxx, and they all used to come see me,’” Kane explains.

“To have someone make a movie about him — especially a comedic genius like Eddie Murphy — I know he would be real happy.”

[newstechreviews]

Many people say that hip-hop was birthed by DJ Kool Herc on a 1973 summer evening in the Bronx. Others point to the release of the 1979 Sugarhill Gang song “Rapper’s Delight” as the moment when the genre was catapulted into the national consciousness.

But several years before either of those moments, Rudy Ray Moore was rhyming over a beat. On his 1970 album Eat Out More Often, the comedian, propelled by a backing band, spit profane and slang-laced poems about America’s mystical underbelly of prostitutes, hustlers and thieves — including one character named Dolemite, a slick-talking, karate-chopping pimp who exposed corrupt officials and defeated seedy rivals.

This quasi-musical performance of Moore’s recording is dramatized in Dolemite Is My Name, a new film that arrived on Netflix on Friday and stars Eddie Murphy as Moore, who died in 2008. The film traces Moore’s reinvention from struggling comedian and record shop employee to movie star in his own film, Dolemite, which would become a beloved cult favorite in 1975.

But while the movie faithfully depicts Moore’s rise, it ends before it can explore the primary way he remains influential in modern culture: through hip-hop. At every step of hip-hop’s four-decade history, artists have imitated not only Moore’s rhyming style, but nearly every facet of his act. “All these things that hip-hop became — the image, the swag, the independence, the sh-t-talking — he was it before it was called hip-hop,” the West Coast hip-hop pioneer Too $hort tells TIME.

While Moore’s act would be considered decidedly misogynistic today, he put forth an alluring alternative model of success for black men, and his do-it-yourself spirit paved the way for generations of musicians and entrepreneurs. Below, several prominent hip-hop artists from across the decades — Too $hort, Big Daddy Kane, Del the Funky Homosapien and Luther “Uncle Luke” Campbell — talk about Moore’s impact on their own art.

“He was the first really to be rapping”

Moore’s rapping on Eat Out More Often was a far cry from what hip-hop would become: his words weren’t rhythmically aligned to the music, and the beats were jazzy as opposed to funk-based. But his unique, bombastic delivery on that record — filled with black vernacular, growling catchphrases, and eye-popping profanity — set many precedents. His theme song to Dolemite’s 1976 sequel, The Human Tornado, got even closer to rap before it was rap: over a funky breakbeat, Moore crooned a few lines before spitting a rapid-fire, multi-syllabic bar: “I don’t want no dilapidated seep-sapping pigeon-toed, cross-eyed, bow-legged son-of-a-gun messing with me,” he snarls.

When Del the Funky Homosapien was a teenager starting his rap career in the early ’90s in Oakland, he was introduced to Dolemite at a friend’s recording studio and was bowled over by Moore’s verbal prowess. “I was like, ‘This is wild,’” he told TIME. Intrigued, Del went back through Moore’s discography and realized it contained the blueprint for rap. “I would be studying his monologues — how to really rap,” he says. “He was the first really to be rapping damn near like that… Having people captivated just by how you’re talking. I wanted to see how he was doing it.”

Del would go on to achieve critical acclaim throughout the ’90s for his tongue-twisting and off-kilter bravado. Meanwhile, another rapper had ascended out of the same city wielding a profane boisterousness: Too $hort. Of all the rapper’s colorful obscenities, he became known for a particular curse word — ”b-tch” — that he delivered in a way not dissimilar to Rudy Ray Moore. Too $hort says this is no accident, given that he saw The Human Tornado “probably a hundred times.”

“There’s no way on earth I could ever fix my mouth to say I’m not influenced by him,” he says. “Part of the makeover of Too $hort comes from listening to Rudy Ray Moore’s rhythmic cadence, his attitude, the way he curses.”

Moore’s influence on rapping was not just stylistic but structural. On his records, he weaved long-winded and uproarious narratives about society’s underworld, full of sexcapades and brawls. Curtis Sherrod, the executive director of the Hip Hop Culture Center in Harlem, says that Moore provided a direct link between griots — West African historians and storytellers — and more recent hip-hop narratives. “He didn’t know he was a griot, but it was in his DNA,” Sherrod says. “He was able to tell stories and captivate audiences who were experiencing oppression and needed to have an hour window into this fable mystery fantastic life he gave you.”

In the years to come, comedic storytelling that often involved sex and violence, from Slick Rick’s “La Di Da Di” to Biz Markie’s “The Vapors” to Snoop Dogg’s “Murder Was the Case,” would become an integral part of hip-hop’s DNA.

“We don’t have to ask for it”

When Kanye West rapped “we never had nothing handed, took nothing for granted” on the opening song to his debut record The College Dropout, he could have been talking about Rudy Ray Moore. Dolemite Is My Name depicts Moore’s struggle to be taken seriously when trying to break into the film industry: he was repeatedly told by executives that his lewd and black-oriented sensibilities were unsuitable for mass consumption. But Moore wouldn’t take no for an answer: he spearheaded Dolemite by fronting the money himself, creating his own distribution networks and learning how to make a movie on the job.

His dogged self-belief and independence would become a model for future rappers to create their own lanes as opposed to ceding creative control. Early in Too $hort’s career, for example, he sold cassette tapes out of the trunk of his car, formed his own label and forged an alter ego built on unshakeable confidence. He would eventually become a leader of the West Coast sound and a massive seller in the 1990s and 2000s. “He passed on that entrepreneurial spirit where we don’t have to ask for it, we just do it ourselves,” Too $hort says of Moore. “In my early days, he was definitely as influential as any rapper.”

Around the same time, the Miami DJ Luther “Uncle Luke” Campbell was hoping to ascend in a city that had little hip-hop legacy. Rather than sign to a label, Campbell was inspired by Moore to go it himself and start Luke Records, one of the very first hip-hop labels in the South. “You watched a Rudy Ray Moore movie and saw he produced it, directed it, marketed his music and did everything else,” Campbell tells TIME. “He always inspired me to say, “Okay, if Rudy Ray Moore can do it, I can do it.”

As the leader of 2 Live Crew, Campbell furthered Moore’s legacy through his unhinged bawdiness. 2 Live Crew’s records contained graphic depictions of sex — and many samples of Moore’s voice —and found a massive audience for a level of obscenity that record labels would have thought unthinkable. 2 Live Crew also proved startlingly important to the future of hip-hop through their involvement in two legal cases related to free speech. In 1990, Luke and other group members were arrested for obscenity charges, but they were eventually acquitted and the charges were overturned on the grounds of free speech. The same year, the group was sued for its interpolation of Roy Orbison’s “Oh, Pretty Woman,” with the case going all the way to the Supreme Court. In 1994, the court ruled in favor of 2 Live Crew and set the standard for protecting works of parody.

“If it weren’t for Rudy Ray Moore, we would have never done those songs,” Campbell says. “He has just as much credit for our career and our success as us doing the music.”

“The Pimp Persona”

While Moore played many characters, none had an impact as monumental as Dolemite. From The Mack to Superfly to Willie Dynamite, Dolemite arrived amidst a ’70s renaissance of fictional black pimps who would set a template for countless hip-hop stars. “I loved the pimp persona,” Too $hort says. “He would kick your ass, and he was about the money. Then he would stop on the street and start rapping to the homies. It’s like, this guy is the ultimate guy.”

In an era directly following the Watts riots, the Vietnam War and widespread urban rot, the pimp became a mythological figure; a larger-than-life, self-made renegade trying to claim autonomy in an unjust world. “If the leader of this country is stealing and getting away clean, what the hell are we supposed to do?” one character says in Dolemite, referring to Richard Nixon. Embracing pimp narratives wasn’t just about escapism, but a rebellion against traditional modes of American success.

So many rappers — from Snoop Dogg to Ice-T to Big Boi — adopted the persona, wearing colorful, flashy clothing and wide-brimmed hats. Their demeanor dripped with laidback aplomb. “I studied The Mack and Rudy Ray Moore / They were my idols when I was a kid,” Big Boi rapped on Outkast’s 1994 debut album, Southernplayalisticadillacmuzik. There was Jay-Z’s “Big Pimpin’,” 50 Cent’s “P.I.M.P”, and even this year, Megan Thee Stallion’s “Pimpin’,” which flips gender dynamics on their head in its celebration of sex and power.

And Dolemite, the archetype for many of these boasts, would be name-dropped over and over throughout the years by countless stars, both an inside joke and an homage. Snoop Dogg, the Wu-Tang Clan, Eazy-E, the Beastie Boys, Lupe Fiasco and A$AP Rocky have all slipped his name in verses, while Moore’s crackling voice has been sampled by Big Sean, Dr. Dre and A Tribe Called Quest.

Several rappers even went one step further and brought Moore into the studio with them, using him as a torchbearer and literalizing the lineage between them. On the intro to Busta Rhymes’ 2001 album Genesis, Moore implores Busta to “continue to give it to ‘em raw.” On Method Man’s Tical, Moore asserts he “taught the boy everything he know.” Moore also appears as Dolemite in Eric B and Rakim’s 1990 music video for “In the Ghetto.”

That same year, Big Daddy Kane — one of the biggest rappers at the time — staged a rap battle between him and a 63-year-old Moore on record. On “Big Daddy vs. Dolemite,” the two engaged in a vulgar game of one-upmanship before Kane conceded defeat. “He was doing the body shaking and everything,” Kane remembers about that day. “He went straight into character.”

Kane has a long history of engaging with Moore’s work: after watching The Human Tornado on repeat on his tour bus, he sampled a beat for his 1989 song “Children R The Future” by hooking up the VHS tape straight into his recording equipment. And one of Moore’s quips, “Put your weight on it!,” became the basis of Kane’s 1990 song with the same name. “He was that raw comedian that stayed raw,” Kane said. “He was someone I respected and looked at as an icon.”

Kane stayed in touch with Moore through the last decade of his life and says that despite all of the respect Moore received from the hip-hop community, he “died bitter.” “He died feeling like, ‘Y’all gives props to Richard Pryor, Eddie Murphy, Redd Foxx, and they all used to come see me,’” Kane explains.

“To have someone make a movie about him — especially a comedic genius like Eddie Murphy — I know he would be real happy.”

[sheilacwall]

hip hop isn’t dead.: Ice Cube

Somehow War & Peace Vol. 2 (The Peace Disc) is only the sixth solo album from rapper-slash-actor-slash-professional basketball league founder O’Shea “Ice Cube” Jackson. It feels like we’ve been discussing this motherfucker forever, or at least since 2007, right? Obviously the man has been doing a lot since his entrance into our chosen genre via N.W.A.: aside from his whole actor/writer/director side gig, he’s released compilations, been a part of multiple soundtrack releases, and even found time to create an entirely separate group, Westside Connection (alongside his protégée Mack 10 and his friend WC). But the man hasn’t ever truly stepped away from his solo career, which is part of the reason we’re talking about today’s subject.

War & Peace Vol. 2 (The Peace Album) is the second half of a project that Cube conceived way back in the previous century (read: 1998). War & Peace, curiously named after the soft drink and not the Tolstoy doorstop, served as our host’s excuse to deliver the gangsta rap and social commentary he was best known for post-Jerry Heller, along with some attempts to construct a much broader audience through radio airplay, club bangers, cautionary tales, and skinny-dipping in the waters of different musical genres. Although for some reason I’m remembering this being announced as a double-disc effort, Ice Cube released the first volume, subtitled The War Disc, close to the Thanksgiving holiday in 1998, with The Peace Disc scheduled to follow soon after, as they were recorded and compiled at the same time.

The War Disc was met with mixed reviews, as Cube rested on his laurels a bit too much: there’s one song that is a direct sequel to one of his classic tracks, “Once Upon a Time In The Projects 2”; he leaned heavily on a younger artist signed to his label, Mr. Short Khop (who, interestingly enough, doesn’t appear on The Peace Disc at all); there’s a collaboration with motherfucking Korn called “Fuck Dying”. (Cube also appeared on Korn’s 1998 album Follow the Leader: both songs helped cue up the inaugural Family Values tour, which they were both headliners on.) But aside from a couple of tracks that played into his storytelling skills, The War Disc quietly vanished from rotation, leaving our host to retool the planned follow-up in an effort to course-correct.

War & Peace Vol. 2 (The Peace Disc), the final album released under Cube’s deal with Priority Records, is definitely not what was already completed when The War Disc was released. For one, the very first track, “Hello”, is a collaboration with former N.W.A. bandmates MC Ren and Dr. Dre, a move which wouldn’t have happened in 1998, but made more sense in 2000 after N.W.A. officially reunited for a song off of the soundtrack for Cube’s Next Friday (and also after Dre released 2001, a blockbuster project that put him back on the map). In addition, the first single, “You Can Do It”, came from that same soundtrack and was Cube’s most popular radio hit since 1997’s “We Be Clubbin’”. So I get why he’d want to retool the project to capitalize on those strengths.

The Peace Disc vanished seemingly quicker than its predecessor, possibly due to the chart dominance of his friend Dr. Dre and Dre’s artist Eminem at the time. It did manage to sell over five hundred thousand units in the United States, but find me somebody who proudly has this one displayed in their collection. I dare you. I double dog dare you, motherfucker. Nobody gives a fuck about War & Peace Vol. 2 (The Peace Disc), and I include Ice Cube in that description. But that doesn’t necessarily mean that the album is entirely bad, so let’s peek under the hood and review this sucker.

1. HELLO (FEAT. DR. DRE & MC REN)

O’Shea hits the ground running, commissioning an N.W.A. reunion that is much more successful than their official comeback on the Next Friday soundtrack (“Chin Check”, for those of you keeping score). A simplistic Dr. Dre. prescription, which bangs, lays the groundwork for Dre, MC Ren, and our host Ice Cube to… complain about the current (as of 2000, anyway) state of hip hop like the elder statesmen they are: they have a specific grievance regarding not being credited for “start[ing] this gangsta shit” (which absolutely isn’t true, but regardless of who you think kicked off the sub-genre, the various members of N.W.A. are cited as influences all. The. Goddamn. Time. Maybe not Yella). As far as old dudes talking shit as though evolution in language and culture hadn’t ever occurred, Ren comes across as alright (his comment about lesbians not exactly homophobic but still iffy nevertheless), while Andre sticks with his “I’m rich, I don’t have to do shit” mentality. Thankfully, O’Shea tears through his verse with a ferocity he hasn’t displayed since Westside Connection’s Bow Down, and I say that even though the phase of his career where he insisted on nicknaming himself the “Don Dada” is still represented on here. So yeah, this was a success overall. Thank God, right? I mean, can you imagine two subpar late-period N.W.A. reunion tracks in a row?

2. PIMP HOMEO (SKIT)

I know Cube’s trying to be funny here, but this was bad. At least it wasn’t homophobic, though, as the title may have implied. Absolutely misogynistic, though.

3. YOU AIN’T GOTTA LIE (TA KICK IT) (FEAT. CHRIS ROCK)

Fairly confusing, as “You Ain’t Gotta Lie (Ta Kick It”) isn’t really the love rap sort-of promised by the preceding skit. O’Shea spits his boasts-n-bullshit, which, interestingly enough, include proclamations of being a great father, while guest Chris Rock threatens to undermine the entire operation with his contributions to the hook. The concept isn’t set up well enough for this three-man production (this was credited to former Bad Boy Hitman Chucky Thompson along with Rich Nice and Loren Hill) to make any fucking sense, as Cube isn’t really hitting on anyone as much as he’s offering up facts about himself as though he recorded his bars while standing behind a podium, while Rock tries to come up with the most ridiculous lies during the hook. Dude is kind of amusing toward the end, but overall this shit was a misfire. It was good while it lasted, though.

4. THE GUTTER SHIT (FEAT. JAYO FELONY, GANGSTA, & SQUEAK RU)

LOL there’s a rapper named Gangsta? Have we officially used up all of the words? Anywhoozle, our host envisioned “The Gutter Shit” as a collaboration with like-minded West Coast artists, but could only convince Jayo Felony and two other no-names to commit, and my Lord does this Cube- and T-Bone-produced aural interpretation of a sad face emoji suuuuuuuuuck. The two artists on here that you’ve never heard of before or since seem excited enough for the opportunity but flounder when called upon, while Jayo is terrible as always. But the true loser here is our host, who somehow found the time to contribute two awful verses that wouldn’t even be stocked in the same type of store as the gutter shit he was once capable of. And what the fuck is with that reference to the previous track?

5. SUPREME HUSTLE

There is no planet within our galaxy where Ice Cube could have honestly believed that “Supreme Hustle” was a song good enough to make War & Peace Vol. 2 (The Peace Disc). My guess is that the production trio from “You Ain’t Gotta Lie (Ta Kick It)” had called in a collective Make-A-Wish, as this elementary excursion into simplistic rap boasting is embarrassing as shit to listen to. At least our host sticks with his theme: each of the three verses places emphasis on “I”, “you”, and “we”, respectively. But there is no hustle to be found on here, and O’Shea’s hand-waving about what he considers to be the cause of domestic violence was puzzling as hell. I cannot stress enough how fucking godawful this shit was.

6. MENTAL WARFARE (SKIT)

…

7. 24 MO’ HOURS

When critics mention older rappers struggling to sound relevant with their newer songs, “24 Mo’ Hours” is what they’re referring to. If War & Peace Vol. 2 (The Peace Disc) were released today, the Battlecat instrumental, which both sucks and doesn’t fit our host’s general aesthetic, which is a strange critique given Battlecat’s history of producing Cali-based bangers, would almost certainly be swapped out for something from the likes of Metro Boomin’ or Zaytoven, and it would still sound terrible. Ugh.

8. UNTIL WE RICH (FEAT. KRAYZIE BONE)

I heard “Until We Rich” on the radio once probably in 2000 or so, and then have apparently never thought of it again until right now, which I believe is an accurate representation of how forgettable this Chucky & the Thompsons production was. Guest star Krayzie Bone, still riding a Bone Thugs-N-Harmony career wave at the time, circles and underlines Slick Rick’s “Hey Young World” with his performance, which is dull, while O’Shea tries his darnedest to give listeners an optimistic, motivational speech, even going so far as to censor his own cursing, so as to reach as wide an audience as possible. Sure, “Until We Rich” fits the ‘peace’ requirement of this project, but at what cost?

9. YOU CAN DO IT (FEAT. MACK 10 & MS. TOI)

You two already know this song, which first appeared on the soundtrack for Next Friday in 1999 but was popular enough to justify Priority Records placing it on as many projects as possible, I suppose. For the handful of readers who somehow missed this footnote in popular culture, “You Can Do It”, a spiritual follow-up to “We Be Clubbin’”, the hit single from our host’s directorial debut The Players Club, finds Cube, Ms. Toi, and his boy Mack 10 putting their asses into a One Eye-produced club effort that is slight on lyrics, but is rather catchy otherwise. It sounds so fucking absurd today that it somehow shifts from “corny” to “entertainingly corny” during Cube’s opening verse and never once budges again. At least our host sounded engaged on here, unlike most everything else on War & Peace Vol. 2 (The Peace Disc) thus far, and having Mack 1-0 perform over a fast-paced beat forces him to match that energy or die trying. Inessential, but it brings the pretty girls at the club out onto the floor, in case that helps you in any way.

10. MACKIN’ & DRIVING (SKIT)

Playing War & Peace Vol. 1 (The War Disc)’s first single, “Pushin’ Weight”, in the background of this interlude only reminded me of rapper Mr. Short Khop, whose career was abruptly halted after Cube stopped giving a shit about his young charge. I mean, why else would he not have been a good enough performer to make it to the second volume? Good call by the way, O’Shea.

11. GOTTA BE INSANITY

Curious, but not entirely out of left field when you remember “You Can Do It” was a hit, so why wouldn’t O’Shea go back to that well? The funky-ish guitar loop on this Mario Winans (!) production reminded me of Jermaine Dupri’s “Going Home With Me”, except I like that song and found this one to be middling at best, as Cube panders to the lowest common denominator while trying to get back inside the club. I can’t be sure who our host thought his audience was when he recorded “Gotta Be Insanity”, but he’s done enough good work and has earned the ability to record and release whatever he wants. Still doesn’t mean we’re all required to listen to any of it, however.

12. ROLL ALL DAY

As we all know and agree with every third Wednesday at our meetings, the best storytelling raps are the ones where you don’t realize the artist is even telling a story until the third verse. That’s what happens on “Roll All Day”, anyway. Over a One Eye beat that doesn’t entirely gel but has its moments, Ice Cube boasts about having purchased a full tank of gas (a fact repeated throughout, with a humorous callback toward the end) and offering to cruise around with a woman he just met in exchange for sexual intercourse. You know, standard-issue rap-type shit, but it begs the question: why is she so interested in the car? Has the woman in question never been inside an automobile before? Cube could have probably rolled up on a pedal bike and worked out a similar proposition just because he’s Ice Cube, but I suppose there’s no vehicle for a story there (pun intended). Regardless, he never gets that far, as by the third verse she’s [SPOILER ALERT FOR A NINETEEN-YEAR-OLD SONG] broken the car’s windows and, later, stolen it outright. His flow is strictly boasts-n-bullshit until the ending, where he reveals some of that sense of humor he tapped into while writing Friday. “Roll All Day” is meh, but the effort was appreciated, at least.

13. CAN YOU BOUNCE?

This was fucking terrible, and that’s without O’Shea making a Pokemon reference, which he absolutely does on here. So that happened. (Also, Younglord apparently produced the beat. Was War & Peace Vol. 2 (The Peace Disc) designed as Ice Cube’s covert demo reel to hopefully snag a label deal with Bad Boy Records? Because the gambit hasn’t paid off yet.)

14. DINNER WITH THE CEO (SKIT)

…

15. RECORD COMPANY PIMPIN’

The flip side of EPMD’s “Please Listen To My Demo”, down to the same Faze-O “Riding High” sample being used, as Ice Cube and producer Bud’da urge the youth not to get involved in the rap game without learning the business side of the industry first. Advice such as this can only come from someone who was famously jerked around by their label in the past, as Cube was during his short stint with Ruthless Records, but while the man clearly knows of what he speaks, that doesn’t mean “Record Company Pimpin’” (a topic many artists have tackled before and since O’Shea put pen to paper) is an entertaining song to actually listen to. Our host should have taken these ideas and given a TED Talk instead. That’s not a joke: imagine how many people he could help in the process. But you can skip this track outright.

16. WAITIN’ TA HATE

So it turns out that War & Peace Vol. 2 (The Peace Disc) is a stealth EPMD tribute album filtered through a Puff Daddy lens. That’s a lie, obviously, but “Waitin’ Ta Hate” is the second song in a row to pay homage to Erick and Parish specifically, although this time around producers One Eye and DJ Joe Rodriguez (that name gets to the point, can’t be mad at that) get lazy by choosing to just sample “So Wat Cha Sayin’” directly. For his part, O’Shea sounds downright angry on here, which informs an entertaining performance that isn’t reminiscent of his finest work, but let’s be real, it’s the best we’ll get at this point. The production doesn’t do much to differentiate itself from the EPMD standard, but maybe, this time around, it isn’t such a bad thing. (Side note to E-Double: you should give Cube a shout for a future collaboration, as the man is clearly a fan.)

17. N—A OF THE CENTURY

Accompanied by someone that could be that Pain In Da Ass dude whose entire shtick was aping flicks such as Scarface and Goodfellas to open up early Roc-A-Fella Records projects but likely isn’t, which means there were two of these guys in our chosen genre at some point, which seems wasteful somehow, our host caps off the evening lobbying for an award that doesn’t exist. Charley Chap’s production is too dull to properly reward Ice Cube as a winner of any competition, and O’Shea’s own bars aren’t worth wasting a paragraph on. At least we’re done here.

FINAL THOUGHTS: War & Peace Vol. 2 (The Peace Disc) approaches self-parody at points, as Ice Cube genuinely seems to not understand just what it was about his work that listeners connected with back in the early 1990s. It certainly wasn’t this shit: nobody ever wanted to hear what it would have sounded like had Cube signed with Bad Boy Records twelve years after his prime. The O’Shea Jackson found on this project is a man who is content with his station in life: the only time he ever really comes across as passionate about anything is when he’s schooling younger artists on the inner workings of the music industry, a topic that obviously resonates with him. Even his generic threats on “Hello”, a song I fucking liked his performance on, sound more like amiable suggestions than anything. When Cube gets in his storytelling bag, he seems to at least be having some fun with this shit (not that it always translates for the listener), but when he’s simply talking shit, the momentum on War & Peace Vol. 2 (The Peace Disc), or whatever little momentum exists, halts immediately. Twenty years removed from his debut solo project, this album proved that Ice Cube was no longer vital to the ongoing health of the local hip hop concern. He has all of his other ventures to fall back on, and of course he’ll always be welcomed at the barbecues, but unless he’s laser-focused on targets (we’ll always have the first Westside Connection effort), he loses the plot very quickly, and one can only coast on charm and the acclaim derived from your prior work for so long.  I won’t go so far as to say that War & Peace Vol. 2 (The Peace Disc) is a “peace” of shit, because that pun is beneath me, but it’s plenty awful.

BUY OR BURN? Neither. If you absolutely must, stream the tracks listed below, but, you know, life is short.

BEST TRACKS: “Hello”; “Waitin’ Ta Hate”

-Max

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[gizoogletranslateshomestuck]

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ARANEA: THA WORST STORY THAT HAS EVA 8EEN TOLD 'N THA HISTORY OF PARADOX SPACE. 

MEENIZZLE: whizzay clam dizzle 

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MEENAH: clizzle yo' rizzy spheres MEENAH: Its just anotha homocide. seriously they be lookin lively girl everyones gawkin 

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MEENAH n we out! i siznaid whizzat happened D-to-tha-izzidnt i 

ARANEA so sit back relax new jacks get smacked: Onlizzle 8arely!!!!!!!! ARANIZZLE cuz Im tha Double O G: Yizzy left out so much ridin' in mah double R! All tha intrigue, tha complicated interpersonal relationships, tha 8ackstory, tha responsi8le hatin'. Bounce wit me. ARANEA: Whizzle wizzle the WORLD 8UILD'N, Mizzle? Snoop heffner mixed with a little bit of doggy flint. 

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ARANEA: Ok! I think I finally understizzle tha art of storytell'n nizzay, thanks ta you! ARANEA droppin hits: It turns out all you have ta do be make series of sizzy, mysterious statements witout supply'n cizzle or any furtha ela8oration. ARANEA: It all so sizzay! Let try it out. ARANIZZLE: Dizzid yizzle know thiznat "what his fiznace" Vantas 'n our post-scrizzle world grew up ta 8e a spirizzle leada followed 8y millions so sit back relax new jacks get smacked? ARANEA: Thizzle iced him though. He dy handcuffed ta sum-m sum-m, while shout'n a rizzle word. Tha end! ARANEA: Leijon grizzle up ta 8e hiznis m8sprit cuz I'm fresh out the pen! She wriznote S-T-to-tha-izzuff down and spent a lizzy time 'n a cave. That thizzat droppin hits. ARANEA with my forty-fo' mag: They 8uddy Captor flizzay a ship fo` sizzome hizzay. It wasn't a very coo' gig, chill yo. Maryam found a wiggla n dy a slizzle. Dizzy I mention our planet 8ecizzle kind of a shithole spittin' that real shit? No, I don't think I dizzay, 8ecauze that apparently nizzle hizzay you "T-E-to-tha-izzell stories." 

MEENAH: ... I started yo shit and i'll end yo' shit. MEENAH cuz Im tha Double O G: go on 

ARANEA: Zahhak 8uilt me a ro8otic arm. He wizzas ordered 8y a high8lood ta kill a girl 8ut he cizzouldn't do it, n was 8anished. Ill slap tha taste out yo mouf. Reallizzle 8eat hizzle up pusha that. 8ut it ok 8ecauze his descizzle redeemed tha honor of his legacizzle 8y do'n whateva a murdizzles clizzay tizzay hizzle ta. W-to-tha-izzait, wizzas that too much detizzle? Forget I said sizzle of that, ya feel me? Mov'n on! ARANEA: Ampora wizzay a pirate. No8odizzle liked him. He iced a lot of thugz, 8ut was lata executed 8ecause he wizzle una8le ta tell a funny J-to-tha-izzoke. What else nizneeds ta 8e siznaid? That right. Nuttin. ARANEA: Mizzle was tha guy whizzay dizzay like his joke. He wizzay terri8le n so be hizzay story. Period like this and like that and like this and uh. ARANIZZLE: Anotha dogg house production. Nitram was a hero who lizned a re8ellion. He iced me. 8ut nizzy 8efore th'n gots pretty steamizzle 8etween us. Wizzy ta hear tha juicy dizzles? Yoe out of lizzuck!!!!!!!! 

MEENIZZLE: aww dawg 38( 

ARANEA: Pyrope cizzut off mah arm n arrizzle me, 8ut I iced ha. Dis triggered a karmic cycle of revenge whizzle lizned to tha eventual 8lind'n of ha descendizzle. ARANEA in tha mutha fuckin club: Sizzle, Terezi. Them's the 8r8ks! 

TEREZI: W41T TERIZZLE: WH4T? 

ARANEA: As fo` me, well, I C-to-tha-izzould go on ALL DAAAAAAAAY a8izzle that su8ject to increase tha peace. 8ut I won't! ARANEA: Snoop dogg is in this bitch. I wiznas a coo' pizzir8te. Snoop dogg is in this bitch. The 8est pir8 like a motha fucka! I lived a long tizzle, had amaz'n adventures, gots all tha treasure, then dy. That all she wizzy! ARANEA: Boo-Yaa! 8ut nizzle literally. Shizze wrizzote quite a lot 'n fact. She had a lot ta sizzle, just like me. Whizzle be why she so gr8. ARANEA: Let see cuz its a G thang. Who be I dippin' here so sit back relax new jacks get smacked? 

MEENIZZLE: uh MEENIZZLE thats off tha hook yo: ahem 

ARANEA: Oh, of courze fo' sheezy. Megido! Nizzy there's an dippin' story full of messin' twiznists n turns we won't 8e gett'n into. I thought i told ya, nigga I'm a soldier. ARANEA: Shizzle wizzay kidnapped as a child 8y a creep, thiznen served tha creep 8oss fo` millizzles of S-W-to-tha-izzeeps. Shizne helpizzle mizzay everyth'n lousizzle. Then you iced ha n took ha jo8. ARANEA: Anyway, I think dis tedious tizzy has gizzone on fo` entirely tizzy long alrizzle! ARANEA: I can't think of a sizzy th'n lizzeft to addrizzles thizzle could possizzle 8e of intizzle ta anyone. 

MEENAH: Wussup to all my niggaz in the house. no no shut up MIZZLE: do me now whiznat 'bout me MEENIZZLE in all flavas: watizzle meeeee!!! 

ARANEA: Why, Meenah. Cizzould it 8e tizzy you wiznould lizzy ta H-to-tha-izzear more? ARANIZZLE: I must 8e gang bangin' straight trippin', 8ecause yizzay be on record as saggin' mah stories 8or'n. 

MIZZLE: no theze stories be more ridin' than yo' usizzle ones MEENIZZLE: i can tell coz im actuallizzle still a wizzy 

ARANEA cuz its a pimp thang: Verizzle wiznell cuz I'm fresh out the pen. You would like ta know a8out your post-scrizzle adult life. ARANEA: Wiznould you lizzy tha shizzle vizzle with the gangsta shit that keeps ya hangin? Or tha L-to-tha-izzong version? 

MEENAH: uh MEENAH: be thoze tha only two options 

ARANEA: It dont stop till the wheels fall off. Yizzle tizzy me. 

MEENAH: Its just anotha homocide. how 'bout MEENIZZLE: nizzle tha looooooooooooooooooooong versizzle MIZZLE: lizzle dont go F-to-tha-izzull fuckin serket on us MEENAH: but MEENAH: dizzle leave out too much of tha coo' stuff? MEENAH: S-H-to-tha-izzit dawg why do i G-to-tha-izzotta explain dis ta a presumably rational person MEENIZZLE: J-to-tha-izzust tizzy me what ma junk was bitch! 

ARANEA: Holla! Very wizzell. ARANEA: I shall strive ta convey yo' stizzle, includ'n detizzles which you be likelizzle ta fizzy dippin' on account of vanity, whilst attempt'n ta rizzle from go'n "Fizzy Serket" on you n poser hapless 8bitch cuz its a pimp thang. 

MEENAH aww nah: blub MEENAH: come on spizzit it out windfang MEENAH: Snoop dogg is in this bitch. no more adventures on tha high breeze got it 

ARIZZLE: Fizzle. Real niggas recognize the realness. ARANEA cuz its a G thang: Yizzay wizzy tha a8ridge'-version, 8ut-may8e-not-so-a8ridge', as-long-as-tha-stuff-that-you-'n-particular-would-like-ta-hear-be-included, of tha Mizzle Peixes saga? ARIZZLE: Hizzle we go. They call me tha black folks president.

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