Shamon!

My younger brother and I have been engaged in a battle of opinions for the past 3 decades or so, on a myriad of different subjects, never, ever, I said, I said (go 'head Foghorn!) never agreeing to disagree or agree. We were both convinced that we were right, and in a lot of ways, it continues to this day. We weren't (and still aren't, even tho if things came down to it, we'd have each other's back in a heartbeat) aren't particularly close, probably speaking to each other about 3 times a year, and seeing each other even less. It's both of our faults, really, and it seems that neither one of us really care to change the status quo of things.



One of our most bitter arguments (perhaps "bitter" is too harsh of a word; I'd go with our rivalry was heated, in terms of our big ol' difference of opinion) is who we thought was better...



Prince Rogers Nelson or Michael Joseph Jackson.

Out of all of our arguments, this is the one that went on the longest, both of us doing battle, armed with Billboard Top 40 charts, record sales, musical prowess comparisons, and just something that we just had to argue about, as that it was the only form of communication between the two of us.

It was the 1980's, and both artists (and, in reflection, artists is a word that doesn't do either one of the men justice) were at the height of their powers....MJ being the biggest star in the world, and Prince redefining funk, rock, and crossing over into film (and winning an Oscar for best score for "Purple Rain", a fact that I was quick to rub into my brother's face back in 1985). Both ending up Rock N' Roll Hall of famers (with MJ being inducted twice, deservedly so, I must say), and making so many classics it just wasn't funny.

I remember when "We Are The World" was played on every station at exactly the same moment, the night of the Grammys, and Prince didn't bother to show up, wanting to celebrate his 3 Grammy night (even though Michael J ended up with a total of 13 over his career, compared to Prince's 7). It saddened me because Prince was rather arrogant back at his height (and despite his disappearance from Top 40 radio over the past 15 years, his arrogance hasn't diminished much), and it was the opportunity for both artists to cut a record for the USA for Africa Record (later on there was a chance that they were going to do a duet for MJ's "Bad", but couldn't agree on which direction the song would take).

Obviously, it would of been one of the great duets of the 20th century, in my humble opinion, and who knows...maybe for a moment it would of stopped the bickering between my brother and I...at least for the 4 minutes or so it took for the song to play on the radio.

Anyway, in those great 1980s, those 2 men (along with a certain "Material Girl", of which the 3 is the only one who still is somewhat relevant in Top 40 radio) just simply were the bomb, becoming legends, and as my brother and I aged, we didn't butt heads so much about them, as that we became men and had other things to think about (my brother, his career, and I my eventual marriage and family). But whenever a new Prince CD came out, or MJ popped into the studio for his every 5 years or so release, we'd at least mention our opinions on it....and continued to disagree on the quality of the work.

Sadly, both went off the "deep end", in their own ways, derailing in a lot of ways their greatness before age would of eventually of done that for them, as it tends to happens to all rock/pop stars. Prince did the "symbol" name change thing, and beyond "Cream", "Diamonds & Pearls", and "The Most Beautiful Girl in The World", his propensity for writing music that only he and his die hard fans (like myself) would dig would cost him dearly (even though he was a pioneer in breaking from the record companies and doing things himself, keeping most of the profit for himself; other artists, Like Radiohead, followed suit).

I am not even going to get into MJ's downfall, as that has been well documented, and I have to admit, broke my heart in a lot of ways.



But to reiterate, my younger brother was the big MJ Fan, and I (til this day) thought Prince was the purple meow (yeah, I am hetero, so shut up). MJ was the consummate entertainer; Prince was on par with Clapton, Hendrix and Eddie Van Halen when it came to handling the guitar. MJ had the moonwalk, Prince had the Purple Rain, the ultimate Y2k song (17 years before it became necessary). MJ has the biggest selling album of all time, with each new release (up until the wheels starting to come off in the 90's) being a media event; Prince had the hot women, the yearly releases, the 3 brilliant albums (1999, Purple Rain, and Sign O' The Times) and, well, sadly, "Under the Cherry Moon."



The argument was never won between my brother and I, and we both watched as both of these once mega-stars/now legends went, and forgive me for using this term, as I always hated it when MJ was referred to it, "wacko."



So here we are, 2009, and about a week or so ago, I saw a story about Prince making a surprise appearance at the Apollo for its 75th anniversary, looking cool as hell, not like a 51 year old man, but using a cane...

...as that both of his hips have been replaced.

Seeing this made me let out a deep sigh. No more James Brown splits and crazy dance moves as the funk would kick in small and big venues. He could still falsetto and scream like the old days, but that picture simply spoke volumes to me, especially as my 40th birthday is but a month or so away. Prince was still cool, but, well, he would never be "Prince" again. I still get each new release (including the recent "LotusFlow3r"), hoping for some semblance of greatness would show up, and being somewhat disappointed each time.

Then June 25th, 2009 showed up, and I am at a park doing a picnic with my wife's employer, and my homegirl calls me and tells me that MJ is being rushed to the hospital.

30 seconds later, my mom calls me and tells me Michael Joseph Jackson is dead.

I was playing Frisbee with my youngest, a 7 year old who hasn't really been touched or figured out how music helps define your life in a lot of ways, and he couldn't understand why I just stopped what we were doing, as I asked my mom to repeat what she just said.

All I could say was "wow."

I then immediately called my brother, to see if he knew what had just occurred. I couldn't reach him.

I guess it is sort of like our entire relationship, in a way. He is 36 years old, and is doing quite well for himself. In a lot of ways, he is Michael Jackson. Determined, he makes sure he is the best at what he does.

I am, I guess, a lot like Prince...a person, albeit talented (I feel that I am a good writer), but too stubborn in a lot of things, and not using my talent to the fullest.

So here I sit, 2 days later, still stunned that one of the subjects of my brother and I great argument is gone way, way too soon. A man who, for a long, long time, was the biggest entertainer in the world. 750 million albums. 100 million or so for Prince. 13 grammys, 7 for prince. More classics between the Jackson 5 and himself that I can count. Prince had 3 GREAT albums, but too many scattered ideas, sadly.

It makes sense though why I dig Prince, and why he dug Michael Jackson. It defined, well, us.

I said "dug", as in past tense.

Wow.

Rest in Peace, King of Pop. The "Prince" should say thanks.

What did the "Cos" Say?

Children are, well, stupid.

I hate to tell all of u parents out there who think you lil' Susie, Bobby, Fu'quan (for those black folks who pull names out of their dingleberries, thinking they are being Afro-Centric...u're not; u r pulling names out of a bowl of Alpha Bits). They may know how to run computers, talk about the stock market (like the 7 year old who began to discuss that during my son's birthday party on Saturday), or walk around like they are the next Tyra Banks or Heidi Klum.

They may have the jump on some kids, but put them in an adult situation, and my farts would have a better chance of getting out of it.

While listening to the great comedian and social commentator Bill Cosby vent on his classic "Himself" comedy LP/CD/MP3 (or whatever generation you are from), he mentioned that kids are "Brain Damaged."

I didn't appreciate that when this comedy masterpiece came out in the early 80's, as that I was one of those injured-brain individuals he was talking about.

But, now that I have small children of my own (shooting the baby-makin' juice, oh, 6 years too late; I'd be 2/3's home free by now if I got married and matured earlier), I see now why my parents looked at me like a orangutan on crack.

My child, after having us spend money we don't have (as that we are a 1-income family) to have a party and take 8 of his classmates to a movie (at $12.25 each for popcorn, soda, candy and admission), later in the evening called his mom a loser.

Now, my daddy, back in the day when you could put your size 11's in a child's ass for that disrespect, would of beat the "black" off me till I was "whiter" (or "Caucasian-er") than Matt Laurer for that shit. However, as that today's children, despite my "stupid" claim, are smart enough to rat us out for, oh, DISCIPLINE, and I'd have my over 40 proctology exam from a big burly guy named Marvin on a daily basis while doing time for "child abuse."

So, perhaps I will rephrase my original statement...today's children are pretty f'in smart, as each generation gets smarter than the last.

But common sense still doesn't show up till much, much later...if at all. Some of the smartest people are know are no more than friggin' lemmings, following other lemmings off of a cliff (note, this is a myth, as I just discovered, but hell, let's be stereotypical about rats, shall we? Not like I'd get sued for libel.)

So, as I banished my child off to bed (instead of letting him stay up till midnight so he can enjoy most of the 24 hrs a birthday takes up), I looked at my dear spouse, whose feelings were clearly hurt, and I just sighed internally...

...wishing I could send my own "lemming" over a cliff, so perhaps the fall will knock some sense into his ass.

"Brain Damaged", Bill Said.

grip-y funky mess

I was in the supermarket earlier today, shopping for my kid's 7th b-day party. The "big boy" was tagging along, shortly after having a slight meltdown cuz he couldn't take his "Transformer" cake with him 2 days before the big day. After I had my slight parental meltdown, chastising him about his bratty-ness (and because I felt like warmed over tampon drippings from some sort of bug I got a hold of) I was looking for some Hawaiian Punch for my wife and myself (because, well, God knows I want to hasten my death on by pouring sugar-loaded fake fruit drinks down my gullet). Anyway, as I was looking for my death juice, I happen to noticed this older Caucasian fellow, with red hair, a pony tail, about middle aged....

...and a big ol' dome missing a good chunk of his hair.

And my man thought he was hipper than Jimi H during Woodstock.

Now, as I approach my 40th birthday in less than 2 months, I have accepted that, well, I am not going to turn a 21 year old's head anymore (wait, I didn't do that when I was 21....I didn't get sexy until my 25 to 27 year old "I like to bang like a drum" period). I am 75 lbs overweight, look like I am 7 months pregnant, and keep an oxygen tank at the top of the stairs at my home (ok, no oxygen, but if I don't lose weight soon, it may come to pass). Yet here is this fellow, my guess probably about 10 years older than I, with this smugness about him, thinking he could score any babe, do anything, be anywhere....

Despite the kick ass plaid shorts, golf shirt, and sandals he was wearing.

We men are pretty sad children at times, myself included.

As I approach my 40th year, I know that I am not necessarily handling it well. I have always been fearful of my mortality, and I think that my silliness at times (for those who actually still talk to me at this point; I can count my contacts on the loose pube hair in my drawers) is a barrier against the beginning of advancing age....sort of a useless attempt to make me still feel hip and young...

...despite the fact that I couldn't attract a toejam from a unraveling sock at this point in life.

So after I completed my errands, my boy and I, the one who will be 18 when I am 50, started to stroll out to my truck to head home. That same "hip dude" with the need for Rogaine and the
dy-no-mite" pony tail hopped into his hot little sports car, pulled out his cell phone, and sped off.

I looked at my boy, my anger already dissipated from his earlier rant, and smiled as I watched him buckle himself in his seat. I took a deep sigh, and then put my key in my ignition.

Men are deathly afraid of their mortality, aren't they? I doubt I am the only dude who misses the day when they could run forever, play sports (even if they couldn't field to save their life), thought that they could do anything, and had dreams....

...and believed they had plenty of time.

Then they turn around and see their children, and realize that is their turn to dream, and play, and think they have all the time in the world.

It's my job as a dad to help him enjoy that while it lasts....and maybe see him get some of those dreams as well, stay healthy so he can play as long as possible, and well, not become a mulatto child with balding and a funky ponytail.

The sports car, though, would be cool...as long as he lets his old man drive it once in a while.

Brother Athletes, Entertainers, Etc...listen to a broke black man, please!

Tyson. Vick. MC Hammer.

You know, I play the Lottery about 2-3 times a week, hoping against hope that I can escape the likelihood that I will be just another rat in the cage call working for someone else, helping to make some fat cat rich. It always irritated me to no end, working for someone else. I've been out of work, outside a couple of temp assignments, for 18 months, and while i hate working, I hate not having any money more.

As a child, I loved to play baseball, and a friend of mine once said that they have never seen anyone turn on a fastball like I could in my youth.

Sadly, I couldn't say the same on a slider, curve, or anything else that wasn't down the pipe or a mistake over the plate. And my fielding is best describe as Jose Feliciano taking the field, with a little bit of Stevie Wonder, Ray Charles, and Bill Buckner on the side.

So, I wasn't going to make lots of cash as an athlete. I am a firm believer that some folks are, well, always going to be poor, most of us may make enough to get by, and a few lucky folks, whether it's talent or good genes, are going to live in the incredible houses, drive the nicest cars, and eat a $200 steak without blinking an eye.

Just the way of the world, I guess.

However, I guess what boggles my mind are those folks who, well, have it all, and for some inexplicable reason, they throw it away.

My wife and I (mostly me, as my wife plays along with it to soothe my ego) often talk about what it would be like to win millions of dollars, and what we'd do with the money. Get a bigger house, set up a trust fund for my youngest, pay for college for the oldest, take care of the parents, and so on and so on.

The big thing for me, however, is to make sure that my azz would never, ever go broke...or return to the time where I didn't know what bill I'd pay. Be too scared to get back there again.

I would think, if one went from the outhouse to the Penthouse, that would make sense.

But let's get to the 3 names I started this entry with.

Mike Tyson I read somewhere made over 300 million dollars in his career.

300 Million Mofo dollars.

Brother is broke, looking like someone went apeshit on his face with all those dumb ass tatoos. (Note, don't tell this to Mike; as that I know he isn't what he was, he could still whup me pretty good).

Michael Vick...lost over $100 million....over a few thousand dollar bets on dogfighting, as well as possibly his career. Now I don't know, but lessee....

$100 Million is > than a few thousand. I sucked at math, but I'm pretty sure about that one.

MC Hammer...sold 27 million albums (don't lie...you know a lot of you bought "U can't touch this")....now is spoofing himself on Nationwide commercials on how he lost it all.

I just can't accept this in my dome that these fellows, and a lot like them, had it all, and then like idiots blew it all. And most of these folks came from poor, uneducated backgrounds.

Sigh.

As that I have never (and probably never will) had that sort of cash lying around, I can't understand how you would just break the neck of the golden goose, and scramble all of her eggs, And it always seems to be the brothers who keep doing this to themselves. It's mind boggling. Now, there are great exceptions (Will Smith, the former "Fresh Prince" pulls nearly 30 mill a film, and the two films his production company has produced have been hits that didn't involve government buildings exploding). But it seems that every time I turn around, I see some famous brother (right, Chris Brown? What's your new song..."Smack that?") totally screwing up and losing everything.

I guess my feeling is, if you hated being poor/broke/average/whatever, why would you want to go back?

Dunno...if I ever get 6 numbers on a winning ticket, I'll ask myself that question as I try to avoid dogs, carrying my "friends" via blowing my fortune, beating up my hot girlfriend (if I was single and had one; I'll go with not beating up the mother of my children, too), or not getting therapy for my anger management problems.

Just a thought.

Wishing For A Bluetooth World

Five states (California, Connecticut, New York, New Jersey, and Washington) and the District of Columbia have enacted a jurisdiction-wide ban on driving while talking on a handheld cellular phone. Washington state has also enacted a jurisdiction-wide ban on text messaging while driving.

Great law, that is.

I was driving along, getting my loud azz music thang on, when I got cut off by some fancy pants, Mercedes Boy driving middle age dude yabbing on his iPhone, not paying a damn bit of attention to what he was doing.

First of all, people with $ irritate me, cuz, well, I don't have any, and less importantly (grin) they think they can get away with anything.

Second of all, it ticks me off that folks drive around in 2009 without getting Bluetooth for their cell phones.

I remember back in the somewhat recent day that the best thing one can do when talking on the phone in the car was get one of those headsets with the "Rosemary, the operator" extensions and the big long cord that hung like an old man's penis at your side.

This qualified as technology, and at least you were able to somewhat pay attention to where you were going.

Now you have dumb asses who are texting while attempting to control anywhere from a 2500 to 4,000 lb vehicle going at anywhere between 30 and 60 miles an hour during rush hour.

What is so important to talk about via cold, impersonal words on a wireless phone that can't wait till, well, ya stop the car?

I guess I would find it hard to forgive someone who smashes into me while talking to her best friend Buffy the super skank about the latest Jonas Brothers video.

Bluetooth...think they are as low as $15 these days. Beat the crap out of $5-10K for a funeral.

But hell, then I started thinking....say we can expand Bluetooth beyond communication, music, and so forth?

I went into my "thinking room" (making sure we had Charmin; the spouse doesn't like scratchy paper on her sphincter) and came up with a few ideas if the planet went totally bluetooth...

1. The Bluetooth Prostitute - Simple, to the point, wireless, less mess. Ya connect to her via your 2in to 30 ft "man connection" (depending on if you are a white guy who ISN'T a porn star, or a big dude named Leroy), do your business, and it doesn't necessarily qualify as a bad thing (unless you get overexcited and cause a short...that would, well suck...unless having "sucking" programed is what u're into).

2. The Bluetooth Child - This would be awesome...kid becomes a pain in the ass, disconnet the little bastard/bitch, or simple don't recharge.

3. The Bluetooth Job - Now this would be an awesome idea....connect, let it go to work for you, and if it happens to get overused, just take those days off (like you weren't anyway) until it is charged up again. Companion to the "Bluetooth boss" which is all bad transmission over air anyway.

That was all I can think of, as that I had the runs, and it didn't take long before I had to leave.

But, I am open to any ideas my loyal readers (readers....hahahahahaha....that's a good one) may suggest.

In the meanwhile, I would love, in a thunderstorm, some loser who wasn't paying attention cuz he was talking to his mistress on the phone while driving home to just tilt his phone the right way and...

...well, let's just say the "disconnection" would be awesome to watch.

Yeah, I am not right.

Fornicology...Or, If I Was Single, The Top 10 "Wish" List

(Warning: This entry is pretty much showing the stereotypical male in me. Ladies, take it with a grain of salt, and know I respect all women...cuz w/o you, they'd be no one around.)

I love women.

I truly, totally adore them, which, being a heterosexual male, should be no big shock. They are, in my humble opinion, God's greatest creation...the perfect drug, which, if not taken in moderation, can bring countries to war, men to tears, and have one jump off the side of the nearest mountain (or trip over your skiis while looking at a good looking woman, falling to your death while pondering the size of her Yabbos...:)

Let's Move On!

I am blessed to have a fairly understanding wife when it comes to my love of the opposite sex (not to say we are swingers, or that she gives me an annual "adultery without penalty" pass, even though that would be a hell of a business opportunity, and great as a Father's Day gift). She even points out women, based on how well she knows me, that she said I'd "do" in a heartbeat (with about a 98% accuracy rate). She knows that she has the keys to my heart, however (and 2 kids that would have me working 14 jobs to pay child support to deter me).

However, as I was sitting down dropping the kids off in the pool a couple of weeks ago, I began to drift off into some sort of slumber-like state (yeah; toilet bowls are comfortable to me for some odd reason) I began to trip down memory lane, on women that I have encountered in my younger, non-married days, whom I never got to see if their tastes in undergarments was either Vickie Secret-like or the Cross Your Heart special type. So, after sorting through the women (both non-met and those I have at least been in the same room with), I came up with a Top-10 list...those female bits of loveliness that I wish I could treat to what I call "The G. Eric Francis Bootiesperience."

(Yeah, I know...bad choice of title, but I was listening to "Foxy Lady" by the left handed genius known as Hendrix, and it served as inspiration).

So, here is the list...some famous women I wouldn't have a chance with unless I was, well, 70 lbs lighter, several millions richer, and look like Shemar Moore), those who I didn't have the guts to try to get with, and so on...these are in no particular order, and some names have been altered to protect the non-stalked....

1. Janet Jackson - Let's face it, that girl is like a tootsie roll pop...how many licks to the center....sigh.

2. Halle Berry - Another Fantastic Choice...she is like aging backwards...she's the chocolate hot "Benjamin Bratt, Pratt", or whatever he's called...

3. "KP" (person I know/knew) - This old friend is, for some reason, like pizza was to The Fat Boys when it comes to women I wish I hooked up with. She had...anger as well as good looks. And for some reason, angry women tend to grind ya like a butcher when it comes to doing the nasty. We became better friends in the end, but man, in a different world (with a lot of alcohol for the beer goggle effect so she doesn't run), it'd been on like Donkey Kong...

4. Megan Fox - Ok...normally I like women to have a little meat on 'em, but damn! The woman just screams "bend me over and check me for polyps with your personal tool." It's been a long time in Hollywood where a young hottie like this has come along and make even the brothers say "yeah, I'd sell out for that!"

5. "TD" - Another female who became a better friend. Made out with her once...after I was so nervous for whatever reason, she just grabbed me and showed me where my "pair" was. Actually, if it wasn't for her, I wouldn't of met my wife. Oh well, there goes my redhead fantasy.

6. "JG" - I actually dated this one back in my teens, and always wondered what happened to her (hoping she got like fat and nasty like a a dripping welt, but no, I am sure she is a nearly 40 "cougar" to be, which would serve me right). Perfect female parts all around, lovely lady from the islands. Had her in my pocket, had a lot of "firsts" (not the big "first", that wouldn't come till a couple of years later), and I know if I didn't toss her aside like an idiot, that would have been funkier and fun than a Morris Day/Rick James/Prince/Parliament concert.

7. "DR" - College bud and my good conscience in a lot of ways. She wasn't the sexiest female in the world (in a lot of ways she was like one of the guys), and as that one of my weaknesses when it comes to women are their "man pillows" (Thanks Stan Smith), in which she was sorely lacking. She actually (at least back in the day when we were friends) looks a like like Hilary Swank in some ways. But for whatever reason, she was one of those forbidden fruit things...we'd hang out, occasionally crash in the same bed after drinking (well, she was drunk, but that's another story), and I just wanted to do the Humpty Dance, is your chance, to do the hump (do me baby! Do the humpty Hump, do the Humpty Hump!)...sorry, got lost in early 90's hip-hop...:)

8. Vanessa Del Rio. Do Your Research...'nuff said.

9. Anne Hathaway - The perfect temptation...sweet and wholesome by her looks, but you know there is a bedroom whore in there somewhere. Never mind the fact that the woman can just flat out act.

And finally....

10. My wife...wait, I have slept with her...damn it. But, if we go back to a club back in 1996, she was a long legged, full figured model with great hair, beautiful eyes, and enough "pillow" to fill a local bedroom furniture store. Before "the slong train" entered the station, she almost became a never-had. It took me hours to gather up the nerve to speak to her, as she stood there in her skirt and nice fitting black top. Then, after I said hi, I kept on walking....for about 10 feet.

Then I turned back around.

The rest, as they say, is history (and 2 annoying azz kids, albeit cute, mortgages and the stress of adulthood).

So, while I didn't get to enjoy all the "amusement parks", I at least got to take up permanent residence in one.

Can't win 'em all, right?

White Music, Black Music, Ain't it Just Music?

I just recently completed adding something like 12,000+ items to my iPod for like, well, the 40th time, and while I am not totally satisfied with the music quality and the like (despite my high bit rates on each tune), I am hanging it up, as that I've been obsessing about my music/car stereo quality so long that my neglected wife is now a notebook/Facebook addict and I think my kids are actually Puerto Rican (as that I haven't had time to do squat, much less procreate).

Anyways, now that I have put that obsession aside, I have decided to come back to the blogging world to see if I can get more that some dude from Timbukwhateverthehell to read my rantings and musings. I wanted to first start off by covering, well, music. I know I have mentioned music before (see earlier posts, if u give 2 wipes of a rat's backside), especially the difference between supposed "white" and "black" music. Now, if any of my thousands of readers (in my fantasy world where I am a size 32 (U.S.) waist and I was actually able to see my penis without getting a GPS to find it under my gut) were able to look at my spreadsheet of music, you will see a cornucopia of musical styles that I listen to...anywhere from the Black Eyed Peas "Boom Boom Pow" (which, as of this writing, is the number one song in the U.S.) to Elvis Presley to Metallica to Taylor Swift. Now most folks would assume a man of my age (and brother-ness...not a world, but it sounded good in my head) would listen to mostly R&B, with a mix of occasional hip hop, as that I grew up during the genre's infancy.

This is why I get pleasure cranking up Metallica's latest "Death Magnetic" when I roll through black neighborhoods...something I like doing to smash preconceived notions...and well, I want to see if those bullet-proof windows I put in actually work.

Anywho...

I guess to me, a good song is a good song, no matter it is made by T.I. or by David Lee Roth re-doing "Jump" with a bluegrass band (check it out on Rhapsody, it is interesting). Music can be such an integral part of one's life, and while I totally understand the cultural differences that can affect one's choices, I have learned to give all genres a chance to make me tap my feet (or at least raise an eyebrow when it's a style of music I've never heard before).

Sadly, music can be another way to separate us as human beings as well. I once told a friend that I couldn't get into Credence Clearwater Revival (or "CCR" for its fans) because they just sounded to "white" for me. Then several months later, I sat down and checked out some of their grooves, and ended up adding 5 songs of theirs to my iPod. It goes back to making snap judgements when we don't know shit, or bother to check things out before we make a final judgement on it.

We're all guilty of it, sadly.

So hell, I challenge you to check out other types of music; don't let your mind be closed off because, well, you're a homeboy/playa/whatever section of the "hood"/"barrio" (more PC bullcrap, if ya broke, ya broke; if you have money, God Bless ya), a white girl from a small town, or what I like to call "wiggers" (white folks who think they're black, which I don't mind TOO much necessarily, but hate it when they think that's all we can be). If you hear a good song, don't dismiss it automatically because it is done in a particular style, or is done by hard rockers, rappers, country folk, or hell, a good musical score (I recently got a hold of the "Star Trek" score from the recently released re-boot of the franchise, and it is fantastic), and get lost in the nuances of the artists as they try to convey their message/stories through song. If you truly don't like that type of music, that's fine. I dig that completely.

But hell, I hope you didn't like it cuz you tried it and it simply didn't suit your tastes.

Cuz Isn't music just, well, music?

I'm gonna put on my Britney Spears now...."Womanizer, Womanizer, Womanizer, Womanizer..."

That's some deep azz lyrics, I tell ya.