Of course I could not let this day go past without celebrating and remembering Tupac.
I am not going to say much, because what needed to be said has already been written. I will say this: I don’t remember Pac for his music as much as I remember him for what he was. He was a diamond, a passionate poet who lived his life with fervor and purpose. He may not have been the very best MC, or even had the illest flow, but he made you stop and think. I think that is immeasurable, and something that is surely missing from today’s Hip-Hop music.
Happy Birthday, Tupac Amaru Shakur. You are missed…
I would put up some videos, but you know his Royal Purpleness doesn’t allow his music on YouTube or any other video venue.
Anywho, today is the birthday of one Prince Rogers Nelson; he turns 52 today. When I was in my teenage years, there was a little rivalry between Prince and Michael Jackson. Michael, being the better known and more famous one at the time, seemed to rule. Prince was just beginning his fabulous career, and he had quite an air of…dirty to him. I think that is why those of us who Adore him (see how I did the thing right there?) couldn’t resist his pretty ass.
Where Michael Jackson was all milk and Oreo cookies, Prince was a hot pickle and a snickers bar. Sometimes he was hard to digest, and the hotness sometimes got stuck in your throat, but you took had a craving for it. It was Prince that we turned to for sexiness and excitement. He offered us a different view of the world with his music, and that is something that will last forever.
Today I say Happy Birthday to the man who has a significant amount of songs included in the soundtrack of my life. I am Darling Nikki (or at least I have been), I live a Pop Life, and I have laughed in the Purple Rain.
Over the past few days, I have watched three videos that left me with my jaw on the floor. It is too much sex, and quite frankly, it leaves me feeling sorry for this generation.
I woke up from my sleep one night and this video was playing on MTV:
Now me being a grown ass woman, I watched this video and drooled a little (what? Trey is a tasty little morsel). But that’s just it; I’m supposed to know what this means. I’m supposed to drool, because this song should bring up memories of what a hot, passionate session of booty-ass naked sex feels like. Kids shouldn’t know this. Sadly, most of them do.
The other day, I watched this video:
Seriously…did he lick her ass? That is doing way too much…Chris Brown, ever trying to regain whatever hold he had on the game, is missing the mark.
And this poor child…Lord…
I give Ciara big ups for her dancing ability. But she can’t sing for shit. And if it is necessary for her to move to this level by gyrating and imitating sexual positions, as well as showing off those purchased boobs (she didn’t have those in the Goodies video; I checked) in a wet t-shirt, then she lacks the very thing that would lift her from the bottom of the food chain: a brain.
Poor Chris Brown, though. I want so badly for him to clean up the mess he has made of his image and life. This ain’t the way, sweetie.
Maybe it’s because I am the mother of a teenage son who listens to this crap and will one day try to put it into action (or already has…LORD help!). The message that I get when watching these videos is that sex equals love, wealth, and fame. Our world has become one where whoever sells the most sex, wins. That is bullshit. Is it more important to stay true to the talent given or sell your soul? I think, by watching these vids, the answer is the latter…and that is sad.
Call me old or whatever, but you can never label me a prude. I’m as much into sex as anyone else. But again I will say that I’m a grown ass woman. I know that my choices have a consequence. The videos are marketed to an audience that hasn’t made the same mistakes grown folks have made and therefore, are unable to know right from wrong. All they see are the clothes and the money and the fame and think this behavior is the way to get all of that.
I saw a young lady at the store just today who had on a pair of booty shorts (or coochie cutters, whatever) and a tank top that stopped right past her boobs. She looked like a trollop. And the looks that people were giving her were not looks of “Oh, yeah” but of “What the hell?!” Our girls are headed for the stripper pole, and our boys to making it rain.
