Mr. Morris

This is what I wrote about six years ago, shortly after our high school guidance counselor died. I was in my freshman year of college when it happened:

I would like to address Steve Morris, who died on Friday, October 14th from a heart attack.

For those of you who don't know, Mr. Morris was a guidance counselor at Long Reach High School. He was the epitome of what a guidance counselor should be. When you sat down to talk, he listened. Now how many of you can say you listen to EVERYTHING everyone has to say? Let alone listen with the intent to help with every fiber of your being? I sure as hell can't. Mr. Morris was one of those people. When you spoke, he didn't care about anything else in the world. He was ready to help, no matter what. He wasn't even my counselor, and I went to him when I had problems.

I was fortunate enough to get to know Mr. Morris better during my senior year, when I was a guidance aide. Mr. Morris and I both kept busy with our jobs, but he would take his time to go home, find a sports trivia question each day, and quiz me and Divyang. He had some trouble pronouncing Divyang's name, but he tried. He tried hard. Might not seem like much, but little things like that often tell you what type of person you're dealing with.

This even is tragic not only because he was so young, or that his family is left without him. One of the greatest tragedies is that there are new generations of Long Reach students that will never be fortunate enough to meet Steve Morris, and be impacted by his kindness and caring nature.

Rest In Peace, Mr. Morris. You will be sorely missed.

There is absolutely nothing...

...more attractive than someone who challenges you.

Dream Set List

I often think about what the perfect set list from a number of my favorite artists would be. This is something that, once I get going, causes endless internal torment and conflict.

In the near future, I'm going to choose a few acts and carefully select a 20-song set list, all the while explaining why I envision that it would be the optimal experience.

If that sounds like something you're interested in reading, stay tuned. If not...go do something else.

I think it takes a lot of courage to be alone.

Sometime that's a comforting thought. Sometimes, it's not.

When it's not, you rely on the belief that your truth is stronger than what everything external is trying to tell you.

I write. I write a lot.

I’m currently in law school which, as you might imagine, involves a lot of writing. I’m also a very lazy blogger. Most pertinent to this post is my position as staff writer for HipHopDX.com, an online Hip Hop magazine that Alexa says is the top Hip Hop site in the internet. If you put stock into that sort of thing. I don’t, but I encourage you to be impressed.

But enough about me—a phrase I rarely utter, I assure you. Let’s talk about misogyny in Hip Hop. More specifically, let’s talk about how great it is. To wit, today’s Song for the Day, “Dance (A$$),” featuring Nicki Minaj (warning, the lyrics, and probably the imagery is NSFW):

I’m not here to talk about the problematic use of the word “mandingo,” or why Nicki Minaj’s use of her sexuality is setting women back at least 60 years. That’s work for a problemologist. And I’m not a problemologist. I’m a law student, lazy blogger, and Hip Hop journalist and critic. Remember when we talked about that?

Anyways, back to “A$$.” There’s something absolutely addictive and hypnotic about this song and video, and it’s not just Nicki Minaj’s ass—though I could honestly write a thesis on it. I mean that literally – there’s enough surface area to write an entire thesis on that thing, including footnotes. This song is Detroit native Big Sean’s ode to his favorite feminine quality, a sentiment which many of us share. So let’s deconstruct this thing.



First, we have the imagery. This video isn’t simply your standard sexist fare: it’s the bastard child of your standard sexist fare and the Fresh Prince of Bel Air, complete with mustachioed and skinny Big Sean sitting on a throne with incredibly colorful graffiti in the background, with the camera rotating. All that’s missing is a high-top fade and Alfonso Ribiero dancing to Tom Jones:



It’s the absurdity of the whole thing that makes it essentially impossible to take this offensively, unless you have a joyless life. From the über-animated Nicki Minaj to Big Sean’s plea to make that “motherfucker Hammertime” (at which point the song actually lapses into a “Can’t Touch This” sample), this is some of the best cartoonish chauvinism since the days of ODB (RIP). And this song even withstood the ultimate test: a couple weeks ago, I was at a bar/club thingy, and this song came on, all of the girls got down. And I mean all of them. I couldn’t help but be reminded of Chris Rock’s take on this phenomenon.



But it’s not all fun and games. Nicki Minaj delves into some really important subject matter about economics (Occupy Wall Street-inspired, perhaps?): “Big Sean, boy how big is you / Gimme all your money and all of your residuals / And slap it on my ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass*”

Now, I’m no accountant. Nor am I a problemologist. But this seems like sage financial advice and meaningful social commentary. Why trust your money with those damn banks? To hell with Roth IRAs, I say! Standard and Poor? More like Suckers and..Poor! At least if you’re slapping Nicki’s sizeable rump with a fat stack of Benjamins, you know what you’re going to get. Not like from that 1%. Which, I guess, if you think about it, Nicki may very well be part of, but that’s neither here nor there.

I guess the key question is: will this work of art fall into the pantheon of modern misogynistic masterpieces such as Juvenile’s “Back That Azz Up” and Nelly’s “Tip Drill?” or will it be relegated to forgettable status like Petey Pablo’s “Freek-a-Leek?” Only time will tell. But in the meantime, enjoy the song as long as it brings you joy (I’ve accounted for about 30,000 of those watches). Unless you’re the type to protest this sort of thing. Then, uh, see you at the bars, where we can discuss this further.

Anywho, I hope you enjoyed reading this, because I sure as heck enjoyed writing it.






*I counted.