When Jay-Z retired he left the draw bridge to rap’s castle down. Many rappers attempted to storm in and seek the crown. None really found the crown. The crown for the King of Hip Hop is closer to the holy grail than anything else. It’s an impossible dream, one that may not exist. If it does exist only Dan Brown would be able to explain it to us. And if not him then Indiana Jones’ father. And one of those two people is a fictional character and the other uses fictional characters that the Catholic church hates, so, you know, it’s still unlikely we’re going to find the crown for hip hop.
T.I. sold the greatest amount of rap records last year. His record was called King. On a recent remix of the Fat Joe and Lil Wayne collabo, “Make It Rain,” T.I. raps that he is the “King, Captain, Numero Uno.” Saying you are the King over and over doesn’t necessarily make it a fact, but it don’t hurt either.
Last year Jay-Z attempted a comeback. He unfortunately found his castle filled with slobbish impersonators and a court filled with less talented, less charismatic rappers attempting to sit in his throne. Perhaps worse than those people-because really they were always there, just previously they showed some respect and acted subservient-the castle had been transformed. On the outside it still looked like a castle. On the inside it looked like something out of a sharper image catalog.
The burning torches were replaced with light sensing, energy saving bulbs. The fireplace was gone and in its place was an elaborate heating system. There were no longer court jesters, there were flat screen televisions and 1000 cable channels. In other words the greatest siege on his castle was not the throngs of wannabes but the technological innovations.
When Jay-Z rapped on his new record, 30’s the new 20, he sounds less like a confident old man and more like a paranoid one. The internet via downloading and blogging not only ruined his chart domination, allowing T.I. to outsell him, but it is also ruining his ability to be a CEO, because the industry is slipping and nosediving. As a CEO, if he can’t make the units shift, then he is a failure.
When John Freeborn started the league it was an entirely different time. There wasn’t blogging, there weren’t non-art fags admitted into the AFBL. He was King shit of fuck mountain. He assembled a rag tag bunch of art faggers to play ball. He had played ball his whole life. While those kids were much better at art-no offense, but milk crates? draw me a still life, prove your real worth-John was much better at basketball. Between this and his ability to secure the court, John became the defacto King of the AFBL.
Naturally he tried to pretend he was a President, but he was a president in much the same way Putin is a president. (anyone else read the new yorker?)
Then I came along, brash, handsome, wildly talented at basketball and very able to draw a still life.
I started small. I pretended I didn’t know how to play basketball to ingratiate myself with the regulars. I became more comfortable and began dominating. However my prowess on the court deterred the old guard from coming to basketball.
They didn’t mind John’s relative basketball skills, they could lord over him his inability to draw anything aside from Bart Simpson. When I came along the entire script was flipped. “Here is a huge talent in every single way,” they’d all think. The intimidation was enough to keep people away for long stretches.
I decided to bring in new, eager players, they weren’t all artists, but they were punctual. I took over the AFBL in a non violent coup. I used the internet via email to rev up the fan base. If John was Jay-Z, you could say I was T.I. because I took over, but I prefer to think of myself as Howard Dean, sans screaming. Dean used alternative means to raise money and stoke out his supporters. I did the same, email lists and blogging made the league a powerful force at the start of the season.
But I saw how much pain the transfer of power was causing John. I decided to allow him to regain control of the league for a short while. I said, “John, this is your baby, take care of her again, like you used to.” But John is frightened of diapers. After the 7 person turn out from a few weeks ago I asked him to email everyone to light a fire under their ass, but John didn’t do it. John is a negligent parent. He isn’t fit to run the league.
I tried to hand him the crown, but his castle is different now. His castle isn’t the one he left. He came back and unfamiliar faces loitered about ready to actually play basketball. He’s scared to try to reclaim the throne. He’s scared of the technology. He won’t take the reigns back. And now we’ve had 2 weeks of 3 on 3 ball.
Thanks for nothing former King.
I’ll be emailing all of you bitches to come out this weekend.
HOUSER WATCH: Week 16, Red Herrings
So, Houser emailed me with really bland information this week. Twice. One time he told me some secret, which isn’t particularly sexy and said I couldn’t write it on the blog, like I’d want to. The guy is full of himself. The second time he made some vaguely homophobic joke about Rudy Gay drinking from Knobs Creek with John Amaechi.
In all of the emails Jim asked me how to post photos on this blog. 3 times I tried to explain it to him, but he still didn’t get it. I even included a Jpeg of the blog and photo-shopped it to explain to him how he should go about posting. It was still too complicated for him.
I think these are the photos he wanted to post:
So now that they’re up he can leave a comment explaining them. Aren’t we in for a treat.
I really can’t believe that he couldn’t figure it out. Have you ever met people that just aren’t ready to be alive? I put Jim in this category, he’s obviously technologically savvy, he produced a track for the Plastic Little record. He just refuses to allow his brain to function in a manner that will make it possible for him to do certain things.
One of those things is play basketball. He’s played once this year.