“Ain’t from New Orleans, but the Mack-Nolia [mack know ya].”
With a Pac-like work ethic, Boa-man drops his newest EP, appropriately titled BILLYBADA$$RHYMEALOT. The ‘badass’ was designed to offend you, but the maturation is most evident on standout tracks Exotic, Bada$$ and my personal favorite, Mack-Nolia. The latter is a soulful, rapid-tongued ode (delivered over TheWhiteRussian’s production) dedicated to his very own lyrical prowess and swagger. Simultaneously, Boa sends a warning to challengers and there’s no empty bravado here; like Villa and Rosewood Montage, his boasts are proven true throughout this project.
Albeit obnoxious to some, I’ll admit that I have tendency to adorn sunglasses while riding the train. While I understand the inferred pretention in wearing sunnies where there is no sun, in truth, I’m usually just too lazy to remove my eyewear. Plus, I guess I feel there’s justification in retaining my eye protection during my commute since my train does ride over the Manhattan Bridge (for all of 5 minutes).
But today on my way to Manhattan, a nice woman named Monica came over to me and asked where I purchased the specs that I was wearing. We talked briefly about the shape and rich brown tortoise color of the frame, the darkness of the lenses and beauty of ”vintage” glasses. Now, to know me is to know that sunglasses are my unaffordable (since I can’t buy all of the pairs I want) and insatiable fetish. While most of my clothes and shoe choices are understated, my sunglasses range from Ray Ban to Persol.
However, today’s conversation on the train with Monica was sparked by a pair of sunnies that cost a mere $4.99! No, the decimal wasn’t misplaced—they were really just 5 bucks.
Purchased at Brooklyn thrift store, Beacon’s Closet (dope spot—even copped a vintage winter coat for $20), my A.J. Morgan “Grad School” sunglasses prove, once again, that the value of an item is all in how much you love it. Certainly, I can’t deny that high-end brands usually offer greater quality, but only a fool snubs an inexpensive item simply because it is low-priced. After all, beauty can be found in unlikely places.
These sunglasses can also be found at my home away from home, the Brooklyn Flea.
Politics isn’t really my bag. Still, I tune in to the Presidential race during the eleventh hour like most Americans do for the Super Bowl, to get a better feel for the stances taken by the Dems and Reps.
So, needless to say, Barry O’s performance at the debate on Wednesday, October 3rd (his and Michelle Obama’s 20th wedding anniversary and my big sister’s birthday) was underwhelming. In fact, the only thing that isn’t really…ahem…debatable is that Mitt Romney bested Obama and walked away the victor. Agreed; and this blogger couldn’t bear to watch the President get stomped, tuning out after about an hour.
Recently, while watching the one and only political show that I choose to DVR “Melissa Harris-Perry” on MSNBC, one of her guests said that “Democrats have to guard against over-confidence” and boy was she right. Underpreparation and over-confidence may have very well played a part in Wednesday’s defeat for Mr. Obama, but fortunately, he has two more shots at redemption.
While it wouldn’t be wise for the President to drastically change his temperment and approach for the next debate, here’s what the president should fix in time for the next debate against Romney:
Mention Romney’s terribly offensive statement about the 47% of Americans who are disillusioned, lazy and not-worth-his-time. It’ll remind us of the Republican mindset and why we shouldn’t vote Romney.
Call his opponent out for lying. Mitt Romney said Obama doubled the deficit; Obama lowered the deficit. Romney said that Obama invested in “Green” jobs and that half of those companies have folded; Nope, out of 36 companies, 33 are still going strong. Romney said Obama is cutting 716 billion from the Medicare budget; also, just not true.
Look up. Look alive. Mr. Obama’s body language was completely off and in a surprising turn of events, he was out-styled. He conveyed all the confidence of a child getting scolded by the prinicipal. Gazing down and writing notes for relatively long periods and smugly chuckling when he was being called out for his various “ineffective” policies. But, in essence, HE IS THE PRINCIPAL and he should have looked his opponent in the eye and conveyed more passion and conviction in his message.
Put his foot down. Figuratively and literally. This continues from my previous point; look, one thing I despised about Obama’s predecessor, George W. Bush, was his L’État, c’est moi (I am the state) approach—as if he didn’t have to answer to the people that he was elected to serve. But, Obama could afford to take a lesson from Bush in being the boss. Pull up the trousers, put the foot down—Romney stood more presidentially than Obama who dragged his right foot like a schoolboy—and tell Rom/plubicans that you are the boss; commander-in-chief, elected by the people and that you are doing a good job!
Given that underground artists have done to death tracks about grinding, it’s refreshing to stumble on a song in this category that manages to have repeat value. The anthemic hook—”Don’t hate me. Grind.”—is complemented by flows, lyrics and production that are both sharp and rugged; the perfect combination. Despite what the lyrics suggest, the video captures the working man doing what the song encourages: grinding. Dopely directed by Lance Fresh.