Dear Alt-Right, More Pizzagates Please
If you are a fan of my work, you already know of my predisposition for conspiracy theories of all flavors. If you aren’t a fan of my work but are reading this, I love conspiracy theories. Something about the visceral need to escape reality, the desire to separate from the accepted, It’s in the base desire of all fiction writers. Our brains augment reality all the time to find ideas, and in conspiracy theorists, we find a similar ilk. A fraternal twin. Similarity shouldn’t be seen as acceptance, however. I’m more a fan than a researcher, an artist looking for a muse. Do I like conspiracy theories and read about them and dive deep into the bowels of YouTube for them? Yes. Do I believe them? Not really.
The Great American Butt Tumor
I suppose a fair warning is in order. This is an entirely true story, being told in its entirety, with the purpose of a sort of political catharsis. It involves a lot of swearing and talk about sweaty, hairy ass cracks.
Human beings have an instinctive draw to color, remnants from the days when life had to be earned and each plant and animal was a serious life or death situation. Our brains fire different chemical signals based solely upon the color pattern our eyes receive, hence fast food restaurants are coated in shiny reds and yellows which literally make you feel hungry. A college study has linked the color blue to more creative thinking patterns. So we, as a consciousness, have built-in responses to our perception of the color-coding of our world. It only makes sense, we need every signal we can get to help us sort out the fundamentals of living a human life. As we draw out away from the singular insanity that is one human, we have to look at how society has further used color to denote value and create symbols. The color purple was a sign of royalty in medieval and renaissance Europe, East Asian countries tend to wear vibrant whites to funerals, and the hippies discarded the crisp colors of their fathers and mothers in favor of vibrant swirls (which would become more indicative of their own hypocrisy than their melding of cultural ideas). Color has always been a method by which humans have sorted and made sense of the world, it is one of the sole universals (minus the disadvantaged males whose chromosomal makeup denies them this right) through which we can validate our existence and that of others. That idea is what gives those who manipulate it so much power.
Inspired by a recent viewing of “Dear White People”, which is perhaps the best movie made in the past two years (Mad Max: Fury Road doesn’t count cause they started making that shit years ago), I’ve decided to post the smartest thing I have ever written. A essay covering the history of Hip-hop, the growth of the “thug Image” and the ability to “gay up” the most dogmatically heterosexual musical genre (after white trash) “Because of the Internet”.
Gambino Reference, off to a great start.
No Heaven for a Gangsta
The Feminization of Hip-Hop Culture in the Internet Age
The offspring of DJ Kool Herc, Afrika Bambaataa and the Ghetto Brothers, Hip-hop has done some growing up since the 1970’s. From it’s birthplace in the Bronx, the movement spread like wildfire across both the United States and the world, giving a creative outlet and voice to predominantly African-American suffering. Hip-hop found its target audience in the poverty-stricken ghetto’s of American cities, and like every other musical subculture before it felt the conforming hands of record companies taking hold. The disco/funk influences and light tone found in songs like “Rappers Delight” by The Sugarhill Gang were abandoned quickly by the 80’s as anger percolated into the genre. Ice-T and NWA rapped over heavy beats about killing cops, Run-DMC, Erik B & Rakim, and LL Cool J brought a level of technique to rapping unheard of prior. The Beastie Boys proved that white kids could participate in the emerging scene, albeit in a somewhat ironic and silly fashion. De La Soul provided the hippy-esque influence that would create alternative hip-hop, but the clear direction of hip-hop was toward hyper-masculine aggression. Gangsta rap and the image of “thugs” were forged during the Reagan era.
Religion the world over has proven one point. By this I mean that only one point has truly stuck, been proven to be Mythbuster Plausible. Human beings need, NEED, to believe in something greater than themselves. Jesus bought enough wine that his friends decided he turned water into the purple shit. Moses was so adamant about parting the Gaza strip he fucking did. God hated women enough to blame all of mankind’s failings on them. Nazi’s knew (understand that knowing is entirely based upon perspective) that Hitler was right. As social creatures, evolved from kinky bonobos and war-like chimps, we have struck a wonderful balance between truth and desire, seeing the world in a fashion that best suits us. This balance is based upon the fact that we, gifted as we are, don’t know everything. Now, not knowing is scary, hence making shit up to understand what we possibly cannot. More to the point, not knowing is the greatest gift ever granted to human beings. From that blackness comes the desire to know, that yearning that sits deep within every conscious human to decipher meaning. And from that desire comes myth.