The Anti-Swagger Manifesto Part 1

The Anti-Swagger Manifesto Part 1

Setoiyo

Swagger (v) - How one presents him or herself to the world. Swagger is shown from how the person handles a situation. It can also be shown in the person's walk.

• A person’s style-the way they walk, talk and dress.
• To move with confidence, sophistication.

Ladies and gentlemen it is my fondest and most dear of wishes to return to a time when things were simpler. To a time when the air was cleaner, the orange juice had less pulp and women’s butts were bigger and more mysterious. It would appear that in the year 2010 the general consumer has been bombarded with imagery that instructs us on how to dress, what to eat, what to watch and at what time one should wash their ass. Now all this imagery was perhaps the perfect distraction from the last 8 years of utter nonsense that was The Bush Administration (and as some would argue, the equally disappointing Obama administration), but now that Bush’s time has come and gone and the fog that once clouded our vision appears to be dissipating (Tea Party would beg to differ) I believe it is time to take a look back at a time when life was more…clean, shall we say. Ladies and gentlemen I wish to return to 1997. However, before we do that I feel it appropriate that we look back at the years since 1997 that make this glorious year my personal wet dream at night.

Music

Now let us not be mistaken “Swagger” existed in 1997 but not at the ridiculous level it’s at now. Let us begin with rap music as it is now and how it was in 1997. For the past 10 years the state of commercialized rap music has been on a constant and steady creative downward spiral. The idea of well thought out rhymes over solid beats is almost as ancient as the dinosaurs and has been replaced by hyper-masculine, money hungry, and for some reason always shirtless men (i.e. 50 Cent). Now I’m not saying 50 Cent doesn’t have the right to take his shirt off, he worked hard for that body and after being shot 9 times it’s a wonder he still has a chest to show off. But must 50 be shirtless in damn near every picture? 50 Cent is a multi-millionaire, minus the high-school diploma; with all that money he could buy a plethora of shirts (really nice ones that have his name on it). Am I upset this man makes money taking his shirt off? Yes, I only seem to be able to make money with my shirt on, however that does nothing to lessen the fact that this man is a semi-nudist who hasn’t come up with an original song since his debut on the mainstream stage.

50 is not the only artist guilty of such an offense. There are a myriad of rap artists now who either refuse to wear clothing on a semi-regular basis or rap about drugs, money, and constantly degrade women. Takes a set of brass balls to exploit a genre of music knowing all the while that you are doing nothing to contribute to the art-form that is rapping; while simultaneously perpetuating a stereotype of how young men and women should look, think, dress and view themselves and each other. We all want to look fly and fresh but there are a few things that “Swagger” has taken away from us (young adults) that we desperately need back. For young urban men (or rich e-thugs who love to play the part on weekends) the absence of the belt on pants has become a pervasive problem in our society. If a young man is insistent on buying a pair of pants that are three sizes too big for him it would be only in good judgment to wear a belt. However, the young man seems to disagree, you see he has “Swagger” and that gives him what a belt never could…confidence. Sure he’s only 5’10” and weighs about 145 lbs soaking wet, fully clothed, after a hot bowl of spaghetti but he has “Swagger” so fuck you(and ya mama).

In 1997 things were much simpler. Puff Daddy was the perennial champion of mainstream rap music and damn it was good. It may seem ludicrous to make such a statement but there are factors that must be considered. Yes, Puff Daddy did sample damn near every song from the 70’s and early 80’s. Yes, the phish eyed lens view in the music videos became a bit annoying after awhile. Lastly yes, he couldn’t really rap. However he did something that was so damn vital that its importance cannot go unnoticed…HE WORE SHIRTS! Not only shirts but he has also been a steady and faithful belt-on-pants practitioner for well over 20 years. We like to talk about the woes of our economy, the issue of same sex marriage, and pro-life vs. pro-choice but the issue of non belt wearing dumb-asses fell by the waist side to many of us. Not to Puffy. Long before Puffy was Rocking the Vote he was “rocking” the medium white tee-shirt, 32 x 34 pants, with matching belt combo. Puff had/has the braggadocios nature of 50 cent when it came to money however he has been far less aggressive in his lyrics when it came to killing people and the degradation of women. This is not to say that Puffy never had violent and misogynistic songs but the volume pales in comparison to 50, plus at the end of the day Puffy just wanted the listener to dance (It should also be noted that Puffy’s shooting incident at Club New York was a good two years away, damn 97 was good). While 50 could have the very same intention with his music his adamant refusal to wear shirts also makes me think he wants the viewer to spend an inordinate amount of time looking at his pecks.

Paris Hilton

Paris Hilton I think it only appropriate to address your existence for a moment. First, let me start of by saying that while a lot of this nonsense that is “Swagger” applies to you I feel it unnecessary to spend two pages bashing you, and I’ma tell you (and the reader) why. It’s not the fact that damn near every writer has already devoted three pages to condemning you. Paris I am willing to admit something many others are not…I watched your sex tape (ALL THE WAY THROUGH). It is for this reason and this reason alone that I will not bash you, because in truth it would be very hypocritical of me if I choose to go down that path. If I chose to go down that path it wouldn’t be hard, the bread-crumbs have already been laid out before me and all I would have to do is follow the trail of low fat wheat bread crumbs to the promise land. However, in truth, I would look like a damn fool smearing you knowing all the while I saw you give one of the more dedicated blowjobs of 2004. What type of man would I be taking pot shots at you knowing that in 2005 I watched your tape and thought to myself: “Ya know, she's not really pretty, and the film quality sucks, but she seems to really have her heart in the right place with what she's doing.” I would be a low man Paris and because of that I have no quarrel with you. Tell Lindsey I said “Hi.” (Those two are still cool, right?)

Cell Phones

When swagger meets electronics you get cell phones. In 1997 not owning a cell phone was not viewed as a mortal sin that could only be corrected by Japanese ritual suicide. In fact in 1997 there were fewer distractions because of how sparse cell phone owners were across the United States and with fewer distractions there are fewer social fuck ups. Lack of cell phones meant fewer distractions when driving, walking, when in school, while at the gym, working, taking a shit and fucking. Now fast forward to 2010 and you will see that things are much different; there are nothing but distractions as it relates to cell phones. And it’s not the talking that creates problems with cell phones; you see the actual idea of being able to communicate with others via talking while on the run is sound in theory. It’s all the unnecessary shit that comes afterward that turns a convenient tool into something to be deified by 14 and 54 year olds alike.

When a cell phone evolves from communication tool into a vehicle with which people can begin to identify themselves with we, as a society, become officially fucked. It’s already bad enough that some of these cell phones have names like: “the blackberry,” “the dare,” “the envy,” “the razor,” “the chocolate,” “the juke,” “the ‘dark’ chocolate,” and “the voyager.” Okay so in literal terms these items are; a fruit (blackberry), a proposition (the dare), an emotional feeling (the envy), a tool with which people we use to shave their bodies (the razor), a candy (the chocolate), a dance/music box (the juke), the same candy yet “darker” (the dark chocolate), and a space shuttle from the show Star trek (the voyager). Now you try and tell me that “Swagger” hasn’t completely fried our brains. The bleakness of this situation is only amplified by the fact that people seem to want these cell phones based on their name, look, and popularity. Everyone wants a damn “chocolate,” and they are not talking about a snickers bar. At least once a month a friend comes up to me and says; “Bro check out my new “dare/chocolate/razor/blackberry/envy/I-Phone…It’s freakin sweet, and it only cost me two-hundred dollars. Well, technically it cost me three-hundred and fifty dollars but I get a hundred dollar rebate, and I signed a new two year agreement so they took an extra fifty dollars off. So yeah, basically it was two-hundred dollars.” This is not something to brag about. This is a psychotic condition and there is no medical drug that can fix it. 

Part 2 coming soon... 

Sleep that one off.

 

Why Hip-Hop Needs Smokey the Bear.

Recent studies have shown that every 37 seconds hip-hop is killed in America. Hip-hop has always thrived in some state of rebellion against the social norms and has done its best to “speak” for those who feel they have no voice. However, I feel compelled to ask one simple question…Can ya’ll n*ggas show up on time? Is that too much to ask? I mean anything that requires showing up on time to do any type of gig in which you will be compensated with money deserves at least that much. Ain’t No one tellin u how to dress, and in most instances they will condone the fact that you stink of marijuana smoke when you arrive. All they ask is that you show up…on time. Mc’s, Dancers, poets, musicians anytime they ask you to be there at 7 pm and you show up a quarter past 8, u have just killed hip-hop. You got that new 24 carrot diamond encrusted Rolex watch with a picture of Barack Obama inside the plate. Remember watches are for keeping time, and 24 carrot diamonds should only be used tactical tools/gifts by men, given to women with the hope that the man can receive his desired oral satisfaction and his quiet. Other hip-hop practitioners who like getting paid to do what they do will thank you.

Painting a Picture- A true story (Names have been left out to protect the innocent and prevent further incidents of hip-hop being killed within the course of this story)

Uh-huh and we are gonna touch on you Hip-hop dancin mutha-f***** yet. Doing a paid performance rollin 8 deep, make it to the spot on time, however 5 of the 8 mutha-f***** dislike one another. On top of that they suddenly dislike the shirts they have been asked to wear 3 months prior to the actually date of the show. In spite of their differences with one another the performance itself is a barn-burner, first rate, top-notch, prolly should be getting more money than they getting. Talented individuals to say the very least! BUT THE SHIRTS…well that’s another issue entirely, these shirts are becoming a damn problem especially to the n*gga who needs the money the most. Yea, he has no damn job, lives with his girl, is 29 making him the oldest in the group and is the least talented of the bunch but dam nit he has an opinion to and these shirts are NOT HIP-HOP! Sure the shirts are black with white text that clearly reads “HIP-HOP 4 Life” but these shirts ain’t bout nothing and my man with no job knows it. And you know damn well any 29 year old man with no job, lives with the girlfriend and gets money from his mother ( this explains his ability to get new clothes and shoes every week). This is a dangerous Sum-b*tch, and his mouth is his weapon of choice, so he uses it to cause dissension in the ranks. Now 5 of the 8 dancers hate the shirts as well and refuse to perform while wearing these black shirts with white text that CLEARLY read “HIP-HOP 4 Life.” Now the 5 are informed by other 3 dancers” if ya don’t wear these shirts you don’t get paid, it’s in the contract.” “Ultimatum” my man with no job says, “there ain’t no ultimatum in hip-hop, fuck this, we out.” So the remaining 3 wind up doing the show and make more money than they originally intended. 3 weeks later after all the smoke has cleared my man with no job calls one of the three dancer who did wear the shirts (because they wanted to get f*cking paid) and asks; “Do you think it’s possible for me to get part of the money? I mean I know I shouldn’t get the whole amount because I didn’t do the whole show but I did do almost half so you think I could get half? My girl broke up with me and I need bus fare back to Jersey.” Now if you were keeping count (Like I was) hip-hop died approximately 12 times within the course of that story.

Other brief examples

• Kayne West crying like a b*tch every time he doesn’t win an award or gives a crappy performance and blames everyone but himself. Hip-Hop dies.

• Lil Wayne being called the” best rapper alive.” Hip-Hop dies.

• People who make money off hip-hop culture yet cannot show up on time for any paying gig. Hip-hop dies.

• Black men who actively seek out unattractive white women to date and eventually impregnate…Hip-hop dies.

• Black/Puerto Rican men who stand 5 feet 7 inches tall, weighs 133 pounds soaking wet after a hot bowl of spaghetti who insist on wearing triple XL white tee-shirts and pants that are two sizes to big with no damn belt…Hip-Hop Dies.

Ya know, I could go on and I think I will because I want anyone who reads this text or is within the sound of my voice to fully understand the gravity of this situation. Now that we got this mulatto president I see blacks puffin up there chest and taking more pride in what they do, which is great. To think that we could have a generation of overachievers and scholars. A generation of great thinkers, trend setters, role models and progressive leaders. Enough ebony rule to make W.E.B. Dubois roll outta his grave and scream “took you n*ggas long enough…shit!” Now what if, what if…we had another generation of LOUD ASS N*GGAS WHO TAKE NO GREATER JOY THAN GOING TO ANY SPOT WHERE FUN AND ENJOYMENT CAN BE HAD AND FUCK IT UP FOR THE SOLE REASON OF DRAWING ATTENTION TO THEMSELVES AND THE BULLSHIT THAT IS THERE LIFE. We have all seen them, these are the individuals who don’t like belts, seem to always be wearing hoodies, and roll in packs as small as three and as large as eighty-seven. They appear menacing to many and they are fully aware of it and use it to their advantage to take any open and social situation (Nightclub, open-mic poetry reading, court, etc.) and F*ck it up entirely. Funny thing is the majority of black people aren’t like this but as my Mama once said “it only takes one bad apple to ruin the whole bunch.”

This is a work of fiction that sleeps with the truth.

Setoiyo Ekpo

Monstarz

VH1- you need me and I need you. For so long I have searched for a way to circumvent your very existence. However, I was a fool to think I could avoid your presence while at the same time enjoy all the splendor, joy, and benefits that come with basic cable. I finally see now that VH1 was right all along and while many of us have strived to walk the path of creativity, educational excellence( or competence), and artistic achievement we have all been led a stray by our own collective hubris. If you (the reader) would just take a look around you, you would see how our arrogance has led us down a path of utter mediocrity.

We live in an age of great doubt and great struggle; America’s job market has dwindled as millions of Americans have lost their jobs in the last year. Banks are failing while car companies need federally funded bailouts that will do nothing more than prolong their slow and agonizing death. Swine flu and a global recession have young adults acknowledging their vulnerability much sooner in life than they would have fifteen years ago. Drought, despair, and disease: All the makings of an H.G. Wells novel yet certain people have managed to prosper in these tough times. Men and women from all walks of life have pulled themselves up by their boot-straps and found a way to be a success. Some have the best education that money can buy, while other didn’t make it out of high school. I am a 26 year old aspiring (and by “aspiring” I mean PAY ME FOR MY WORK) artist, who graduated from college with strong marks yet the “promised land” that education was supposed to give me, according to my family, doesn’t appear to be on the horizon. Does this leave me bitter? No, just a bit…vexed, yes that’s a good way of saying it; vexed.

But through VH1 I have figured out the method of success in 2010 and I find it equally appalling, and intriguing. Success is not found in the business man, the athlete, or the politician. Perhaps many of us have been going about this all wrong? Perhaps you weren’t meant to get that Masters degree in International business from Duke University so you can work at Chase bank for $75,000 a year starting out, complete with full healthcare coverage. Perhaps you weren’t really meant to follow your dream of being a painter so your artwork could one day be shown off at a galleria in Soho 30 years after your death. Maybe, just maybe the ticket to success in 2009 is to become famous for absolutely no reason whatsoever. Now as long as you’re alive fame can/will equal some sort of monetary value and if I have learned nothing else from reality TV it’s that I don’t need to be smart to be paid. So I’m officially putting it out there: I want to be on a VH1 reality TV show so that I may have the opportunity to eventually have my own show on VH1 in which women vie for my attention but there can only be one winner!

Some of you may think that I am whoring myself out like a prostitute with low-self-esteem in the lower east side of Manhattan. To be blunt, I am choosing the path of least resistance. We all know this reality TV business is dodgy to begin with and it’s not like any of these pseudo couples actually stay together all I’m asking is to be paid an inordinate amount of money for doing nothing meaningful in society, aside from providing some type of sick entertainment. Look at Flava Flav and then try and tell me that VH1’s reality TV shows are not the way. Flava Flav went from touring with U2 (as a part of Public Enemy) in the late 80’s to a full blown and admitted crack addict by the early 90’s. His musical endeavors had stalled and he had fathered 6 (of an eventual 7) kids by three women. Various stints in prison and mounting legal troubles had sapped him of all his financial winnings by the early part of the century and who comes to his rescue? The fine people at VH1; you see this is a company that can make dreams come true. We are talking about a machine that can turn a Chevy into a Cadillac; manure into ice cream, Matt Leinart into Tom Brady, and Flava Flav into…well a richer and more successful Flava Flav.

What VH1 did for Flava Flav was nothing short of 5^th dimensional quantum physics. First he’s put on “The Surreal Life” and acts a damn fool. Then he gets paired with Brigitte Nielsen for the show “Strange Love” and acts a damn fool. And finally reaches the pinnacle of reality TV and gets a show centered around him, “Flavor of Love,” AND ACTS A DAMN FOOL!!!!!!!!! What’s even more incredible is that a woman by the name of Tiffany Pollard (aka “New York”) came onto “Flavor of Love” and cemented her spot as one of the craziest women to ever be shown on TV. So crazy in fact that she was given her own show (“I Love New York”) Now Flava Flav and Tiffany Pollard are more famous and wealthier than they have ever been before. One was a lingering star and the other was a virtual unknown before VH1. Now they are both paid and famous…Do you see how easy this sounds? Now I’m not saying artistic integrity be damned and to hell with using your education to better yourself. All I’m saying is that these career choices seems damn near recession proof and while we, the viewers, may have our qualms about what passes for decent TV these days we should be thankful that the standards for getting on TV are so incredibly low right now. So VH1 I’m ready for whatever you got; Charm School, Daisy of Love, Real Chance of Love, Tough Love and New York goes to Work. Just put me somewhere and I promise I will make myself memorable. Then we can start to focus on my show, personally I was thinking of something like “Setoiyo’s Seduction,” “Setoiyo’s Ultimate Challenge,” or “Setoiyo Takes Over the Playboy Mansion.” Each show is to be centered around me, but remember that slime stuff they used on Nickelodeon back in the day? Well I wanna be able to slime whomever I want, whenever I want, and I want you to put me in a big house just because. I want to have a secure job, fame, recognition, and admiration for no reason. I want to be the Monstar that I always knew I could be.

Oh and I want a circus at the beginning of each show complete with those dudes who swallow swords and an unlimited supply of Orange juice that can only be consumed by me and you know those amusement park rides that take you high up in the air and drop you down real fast? Well I was thinking…

Setoiyo

The Unsung Heroes of Our Time.

Plaxico Buress, Lil Wayne, T.I. and O.J. Simpson have let “us” all down.  Now it shouldn’t necessarily be their responsibility to bring “us” up, but like most non-white celebrities they bare the responsibility of uplifting a race that is damn near 450 years behind their white counterparts (socially).  So, in that respect these men have dropped the ball. They have mucked up beyond belief and no amount of Oprah appearances or MTV specials hosted by Sway (yes, the man is damn talented and he keeps those dread locks extra fresh) can save them.  These men are guilty of an offense so reprehensible it makes me want to put my fledging career as a Philadelphia Battle MC on hold and go into the ministry so that I can one day save young black men from making similar mistakes.  What have these four men done to earn such scorn?  They have committed the offense of being young, black, RICH, males who have been involved in some Nigga Shit so extreme in nature that they must now serve jail time as penance for the crimes they have perpetrated.

    Nigga Shit- Actions committed by black men that lack sense, reason, and good form.  More often than not said actions can be avoided all together but often are not and can result in rather long prison sentences.  (Example: Black man living in Worthington, Ohio and driving a vehicle with an un-registered firearm in it.  Getting pulled over by cops in route to the grocery store.  Un-registered firearm found, next 1-38 years of black man’s life ruined)-Nigga Shit.

    Now it is one thing to be involved in Nigga Shit when you are not rich.  Let’s face it many children living in urban environments have Nigga Shit thrust upon them almost as much as the perpetuate it. However, when a black man (born and breed in the inner city) is able to reach a level of fame and financial independence that now gives him the opportunity to step outside of the socio economic status/condition that, on paper, seemed doomed to define him it gives many blacks (and a few mulattos) hope that blacks are not defined by where they are born but where they end up when their casket drops.  Conversely, seeing that same black man who made it out of his humble beginnings be led away in handcuffs, on T.V.,  over some incredibly poorly timed incident is enough to make any black person look at their T.V. screen and utter the words; “Nigga Why? Don’t you know I gotta go to work in the morning?”     After bearing witness to the events of Plaxico, T.I., Wayne, and O.J.  and the 12 hour ritualistic shit/chant session that followed I have come to a conclusion:  We, as black people, have been looking for heroes in all the wrong places.  There has been one Unsung hero that has been staring us in the face for quite some time and I believe that it is in this,  his “darkest hour” that we give him the credit/respect he so richly deserves.  This man is Tiger Woods.

     Has Tiger cheated on his wife? Yes.  Did he break his Marital vows? Yes. Has he lost millions of dollars in endorsement deals? Yes. Is Tiger still filthy rich? Yes.  Is Tiger going to jail?  NO!!!!!!!!!! by the first quarter of 2010 it has been estimated that Tiger Woods will have become the first athlete to have amassed one billion dollars in his career (he will have been the first athlete to have done so).  Tiger Woods is a rich, young man who cheated on his wife.  Ladies and gentleman what Tiger did was not infidelity.  No, in fact it was/is Americana at it’s finest.  He’s rich, he’s supposed to cheat on his spouse.  That’s what rich people do; they have sex with people who are not their husband/wife and vote Republican, they DO NOT commit felony crimes that they must serve JAIL TIME for.  They DO NOT carry guns in their sweatpants, go into a nightclub, shoot themselves in the leg (with their own gun, that all the while was in their sweatpants mind you).  They DO NOT get busted on felony possession of firearms by a convicted felon.  They DO NOT win a Grammy one year, then plead guilty to  attempted criminal possession of a weapon less than two years later.  Unsung heroes do practical things.  They sleep around, crash their car into a tree, maybe foster some illegitimate children or make a sex tape with incredibly bad video quality.      Many will think less of Tiger Woods for his recent actions, I will not be among the group of detractors.  In a way I think it’s damn hypocritical of many of you to look down upon such a great American celebrity.  He hasn’t done one thing that any other rich or poor married man hasn’t tried to do at one point or another.  And he hasn’t tried to do  one thing that any rich or poor woman hasn’t SUCCESSFULLY done (yeah ladies, only difference between men and woman when they cheat is ya’ll just get away with it, or get pregnant). Tiger Woods thank you for being a hero, and even though you aren’t fully black your damn near all we got (seriously, it was either you or Mario Lopez).  Thank you Tiger, for not going to jail.

Setoiyo