• » Name: Meka Soul
• » Location: Los Angeles, CA
• » Member Since: 04/09/07
• » Bio: Providing clarity in hip-hop since 1981.
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Slap-Boxing With Jesus

Random Acts Of Fuckery, Take One

Not to say that I look down on people like they were crumbs (because that would make me really egotistical, and we all know that I’m not), but there’s time where I’m actually glad my “popularity” doesn’t stretch too far outside of the Internets. Sure I may struggle at times to pay a few bills on time and I’ve placed a higher value on the nose-down area of a woman than the lips-up region as of late, but at the end of the day I can sit down, decompress and be happy that at least I’m not, say, getting Zangiefed out of my socks.

I of course found the pictures of Suge Knight after catching a two-piece and a buttered biscuit to be the funniest thing I’d seen in a long time, but at the same time I know laughing at another person’s misfortune is just wrong. Then again I couldn’t keep it together when I saw a handicapped person get dragged across the sidewalk by his own electric wheelchair way the fuck back in junior college, so that should tell you something about the petrified lump wrapped with barbed wire I used to call my heart.

The funny thing about this is that while I was writing yesterday’s post I couldn’t help but think, “Gee, I wonder which dumb-ass rapper is going to top this one?” Lo and behold, Papoose the Ninja tried to use the ancient secrets of martial arts to smuggle a key into Riker’s to break his future wife Remy Ma out of the bing. Not to try to connect it back to my own selfish ideals, but I’d never risk my own personal well-being to break a gat-toting, former Fat Joe hash holder out of the pokey, nevertheless wife the bidge to begin with, nevertheless wife the bidge after she had her box chewed out by some bulldog he-dyke to begin with. I guess using the Shaolin Finger Jab isn’t hip-hop, but I digress.

The real kicker actually takes place on this site’s very own message board section. Now I don’t really venture to the molemens’ lair that often because to me they’re nothing but a bunch of elitist schlubs who sit in front of their computers giving each other virtual reacharounds [1], but during I stumbled upon on particular topic where one of the few females there was getting pwned on a heavenly level by, coincidentally (ironically?), the same yenta who tried to ostracize yours truly from the music industry itself a while back because I’m a proponent of the racial epithet. I don’t know (or care for that matter) exactly what warranted such a vicious response, nor do I think that there’d be an egregious abuse of fate should I turn on my computer one day and find myself locked out of this site one day; I just think the phrase “Pot, meet kettle” (or something similar) just fits the entire scenario perfectly. We need a board.

[1] Think I’m joking? There’s a thread dedicated to beating your meat. That’s just all kinds of wrong.

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