Tuesday, November 24, 2009

To vote or not to vote? - The Questions

Voting is not only a right, but also a responsibility. I recognize that this is the most important Honduran presidential election of my lifetime. I know all the cliches (even the one about THE MOST IMPORTANT ELECTION IN YOUR LIFETIME) that the media tosses around every four years; every vote counts, if you don't vote someone else does it for you (that literally happens in Honduras), make your voice heard, change the nation, yadda yadda yadda. I've even received death threats from Diddy trying to force me to vote with his "Vote or Die" campaign. I bet you didn't know he owns a machete.

Trust me, I know the importance of voting in the elections. The "concept" of voting isn't what causes me to ruminate over my participation or abscence. It's the brutal and inevitable realities we will face after the elections, regardless of who is seated, that makes me not want to vote.

Will our health system improve?
NO! People will continue to die from deseases that are preventable and treatable in other countries. The best we can hope for is more Cuban doctors and health care missionaries from the States.

Will our living conditions improve?
NO! Hondurans will continue to live in the same uninhabitable "homes" that annually get swept away or damaged by flash flooding, rain, or earthquakes.

What about better public services?
Keep dreaming! Honduras will never see the day when potable water pours out of faucets. We will continue to only have access to water contaminated with pathogens and chemical run off, therefore fattening the pockets of the people who own Aguazul. What about the electricity? Let's just say you better not have a fridge full of food because you may be forced to sponsor a neighborhood barbecue when lights go off for more than 12 hours.

Will crime be reduced?
NO! If in the future, someone claims it has been reduced, then it's just being reported inaccurately. Crime will not be reduced because Honduran's will continue to live under the same desperate circumstances. i.e. I have a family, I don't have a source of income (and if I do, it probably doesn't pay enough), I don't have any help from my country = I need to jack someone and come up (for a day) so I can feed these guirros.

Will more employment be created?
I think we'll see a small growth in that sector, but solely because vulture (sorry, I meant to say venture) capitalists are probably drooling over Honduras like stock investors do when they see a giant like Nike or Pfizer temporarily drop in price. They know those stocks are going to bounce back, but they try to anticipate the lowest point they will drop to before investing in those stocks to maximize profit. That doesn't mean we'll see better working conditions though. The only reason why we see these multinational companies here is because our leaders guarantee a "low cost of labor". In other words, we'll continue to be expected to work for less money and in worse conditions than they would ever think of offering their own.

What about the economic state?
Thank G-d for credit!!! I would not be shocked to see the minimum wage reduced, or the Lempira loosing value against the Dollar, thus reducing the minimun wage. If the Lempira looses value against the Dollar, the Lempira price will increase on anything except labor. i.e. When the lempira goes to 25 (guessing) to $1, a 20 Lempira Baleada will go up to 25 lps (WE'RE CONSUMERS NOT PRODUCES, 90% OF ITEMS IN MARKETS COME FROM OTHER COUNTRIES, MOSTLY THE U.S.). Someone earning 5,500 lps ($291.08 @ current exchange 18.8951) as their monthly salary, will now earn 5,500 lps @ 25 = $220.00. That pay is pretty close to the minimum wage that was in place last year (3500 lps or $185.23 at 18.8951 ) .

What happens if you're not being represented by any of the candidates in contention?
Vote for the one that comes closest. NOT!!! Don't do that, I BEG YOU!!! You'll just be another sheep. Baaaaack up a little and think.

Are you trying to tell me not to vote Carlos?!?!

Then what is the best approach?
I'm (annything I say beggining with "I'm" is probably not the best approach, but it's my blog so too bad) inclined to actually go to the polling centers and protesting against all parties and corrupt politicians. You still have to vote though, or else someone will use your ID number and name to vote for any candidate that pays them. I would prefer to cast my ballot with mustaches and eyeglasses drawn on the candidates, rather than being forced to vote for someone that will not have my best interest in mind. Or even worse, have these guys pay someone to vote on your behalf.

That doesn't create change though. How do we create "change"?
You have to demand it. We need to stop asking these politicians "What are you going to do for us?" and start saying "WE NEED YOU TO _________ FOR US!!!" Even better than demanding, start working towards what you want. If you think we need improvements in our educational system, start turoring kids in your neighborhood. If you want a better health system, start teaching kids about the risks of sex and disease prevention. If you're thinking that you don't know how to do that, you're crazy. You have the internet in front of you right now. I can't think of a better resource at our disposal. For instace, I don't know how to make sushi, but I can google it and tell you how in five minutes.

"Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country." A guy from La Colonia Kennedy.

Patti Labelle VRS. Kanye West!


Quincy Jones Vrs. The Pharcyde

For all the youngsters...



I would have included The Roots, but I can't embed "Clones"

Don't bump Hip Hop at Work! Kanye just doesn't know when to shut up!

"I'ma let you finish," but I had to say this...

If you've skimmed through my blog, you know I love HIP HOP. As much as I love it, I'm putting an end to hip hop at the workplace. I don't know where I will draw my inspiration from while at work, but it's done! Finnito! Over! No mas!

A few weeks ago, I was in my office getting my "grind on". My boss walks in as "Spaceship" is bumping from my computer speakers. I love that jam! If you're from "the hood" (wherever that is) and you've had to start at the bottom of the ladder, you should too. If you know what it's like to work like crazy and not have anything to show for it at the end of the day, but keep fighting to achieve your goals, you know what I'm talking about. Don't stop 'till you get it!

I didn't think to hit the mute button on my keyboard. I immediately directed my attention to my boss. A few seconds after we begin discussing expenses, Kanye's lyrics begin

If my manager insults me again I will be assaulting him
After I fuck the manager up then I`m gonna shorten the register up
Let`s go back, back to the Gap
Look at my check, wasn`t no scratch
So if I stole, wasn`t my fault
Yeah I stole, never got caught
They take me to the back and pat me
Askin` me about some khakis
But let some black people walk in
I bet they show off their token blackie
Oh now they love Kanye, let`s put him all in the front of the store
Saw him on break next to the `No Smoking` sign with a blunt and aMarl`

Takin` my hits, writin` my hits
Writin` my rhymes, playin` my mind
This fuckin` job can`t help him
So I quit, y`all welcome
Y`all don`t know my struggle
Y`all can`t match my hustle
You can`t catch my hustle
You can`t fathom my love dude
Lock yourself in a room doin` five beats a day for three summers
That`s a different world like three summers
I deserve to do these numbers
The kid that made that deserves that Mayback
So many records in my basement
I`m just waitin` on my spaceship, blaow

By the way, I'm the accounting manager so bumping lyrics that promote theft, not a good idea. Of course, I'm not going to follow this dude's example and that's difinetely not what inspires me about this song.

Monday, November 23, 2009

Montuca Sound System - November 10th 2008 Show photo album

Montuca - Welcome to San Pedro (acoustic)

"WELCOME TO SAN PEDRO! OOOooOOO" That's from a Montuca Sound System song. They're a ska/reggae/funk/rock/jazz band from San Pedro Sula. If you're in SPS, check them out for an appropriate welcome to San Pedro Sula. I can see these dudes reaching that Banda Blanca status and gaining international notoriety. When that CD hits the shelves, I'm getting TWO! One to bump and another to save and sell on Ebay 20 years from now.

The crowd at a Montuca show is usually a good mix of foreigners and locals. (the latter don't really appear in the image below) All the images below were taken at a Montuca Sound System show on November 10th, 2008.
Returning Catracho Report images


The foreigners are always caught off guard when they see MSS live for the first time. It usually starts with them nodding their head in approval of their riffs and smooth lyrics. By the end of the first song, they proceed to wiggle like they have ants in their pants. Two songs into a set and they get carried away jumping around like crazy. I've had to warn a few of them, "HEY, HEY, HEY, (enter all time favorite hip hop line here), calm down dude! Hondurans don't understand the concept of a moshpit!!!"

I've seen them play alongside other Honduran greats like Polache and Guillermo Anderson. In my opinion, this band is way ahead of its time for the Honduran audience. When they do "break on through to the other side", little girls will have posters of a shirtless Gary hanging over their beds and Carlos will rival the late, great Tito Puente with the facial gestures.


They also volunteer to play at many benefit concerts for worthy causes like HIV awareness. I give them (as is said in L.A.) MAD PROPS for dropping out of a concert after learning that it was in alliance with a politician. To me, this act represented them standing up against the system that has historically used the general Honduran population as sheep. Again, props!

Montuca Sound System will be playing at "The Crooked Palm" in Roatan for New Year's! I can't think of a better way to spend New Year's. This will be the second New Year's I spend with Los. I just hope we don't get stressed by the cops this year!


These dudes are real chill too. A good example of that is the following video I posted of them on Youtube. In this vid they imitate recognized Honduran soccer broadcasters like Copan Alvarez and Salvador Nasralla. Hilarious!!!!!

Montuca Playing Live


I didn't resize the images, for the entire album with pics of their Nov. 10, 2008 show click below!!!


Sunday, November 22, 2009

A Day in The Life of a Honduran - Herding Cows

Google maps images

I didn't expect to herd cows for my first job in Honduras. I arrived in May 08 and didn't immediately find work as I expected. Living in a little pueblo didn't help my efforts either. My half orange ("My better half" in Spanish,I don't get it) and I moved from L. A. to El Porvenir.

From a previous blog post:

This little town is in nestled in between hills and sugar cane fields of San Manuel, Cortes. Being the city slicker that I am, I immediately took note of how isolated this town is and said to myself “DAMN!” I knew my family is from a little village, but DAMN!!!
(I said it more like "DAAAAAYYYUMMMM!!!!")
Click here for entire post:

So you get a better picture of where El Porvenir is, take a look at the images below.
This is a close up of San Pedro Sula and El Porvenir at the same distance from Google maps.

El Porvenir is 35 minutes outside of San Pedro Sula, 45 by rapidito and an hour or more by chicken bus. I had no choice but to travel by bus because taxi drivers know better than to pick up passengers there. They wont even take you there from San Pedro Sula out of fear of being robbed (or worse) while navigating the desolate strech of road embedded by sugar cane fields that splits from the road to El Progreso. The piece of road highlighted in red on the first image is the "hot zone" or zona caliente, as dubbed by local media. This area is used to either murder people or dump limp bodies that were murdered elsewhere.

Finding work became impossible; I didn't want to move to San Pedro Sula without finding a job first and employers in SPS don't hire candidates residing outside of the "casco urbano". By this time, my "media Naranja" was understandably growing frustrated with our surroundings (possibly me too) and home sickness (or being sick of Carlos) made her go back to L.A. three times in the first couple of months. The last time she went away for over three weeks. I feared she wouldn't return. I would have understood too. I decided to move, and arrived in Honduras three months after. I was amazed that she decided to join by extending her fiancee contract agreement instead of opting out of it as a free agent. She had no time to plan for it, I unconsciously planned for decades.

The last time she left I became Atlas, carrying the weight of the heavens on my shoulders, wishing to become Heracles instead. The weight on my shoulders, represented by the tumultuous task that was finding work, became unbearable. I was being overwhelmed by the pressure I put on myself. I worried that I wouldn't find work or improve living conditions by the time Rosa returned. In the case she didn't return, I had to bounce up out of there anyway. During this mental and emotional struggle, I temporarily lost grasp of some of the reasons that drove me to move back to Honduras on impulse. I wasn't getting a taste of "Honduras Living", or getting to know "my people". I was in a place I wished to visit for years, my mother's little village, but I wasn't taking advantage of it.

Then... a revelation descended from the heavens, "WWLD?". What would "Los" do? I wasn't me anymore... I had to get back to ME. I thought about what would have become of me if I had lived there my while life. I came to the conclusion that I could very likely be in the same position; unemployed, alone, and lost. That was me, even though it wasn't. That same room, in that same village, that same day. I realized that it was time slow the wheels from Angeleno speed to Catracho speed.

I decided to join the only person in the village I befriended (not by lack of effort either) in his work. Byron, 20, is the nephew of a cattle farmer. Not like a Wild Wild West tycoon, they only owned 25 cows. Initially I didn't know what he did exactly. When I asked, he responded with "cuido las vacas" or "I take care of the cows". That didn't sound like he slaughtered them, so far so good. I told him I would like to "work" with him, for a day. He immediately responded with a burst of laughter. Our conversations usually consisted of me imposing some curiosity about life in Honduras and him responding with boisterous laughter.

C: Is there malaria and dengue here?

C: Do you brush your teeth with tap water?

C: Do you know what Dry Cleaning is?
B: JAJAJAJAJAJAJA!!!! You are lost (estas perdido compa)

C: Where can I get some trees?
B: JAJAJAJAJAJA!!! Follow me...

It was set. I was to work with Byron for 50 lps, half of his daily pay, 100 lps. FYI, that's $2.50 for a whole day of work, he earns $5.00 a day. That's tough cookies considering that a can of corn is more expensive here than it is in the states. He instructed me to join him at his uncles farm (more like a field with a fence around it) at 5 A.M. the following morning so we can milk the cows, he also said lunch would be provided. MILK THE COWS!?!?!?!? I don't know about all that! I didn't have a "Four H" club in my high school and I sure as heck never touched a cow. I would arrive fashionably late as to avoid milking cows. The rest of his day was built up by herding the cows while they graze and any other task he needs to take care of on the family properties.

When I arrived Byron had finished filling empty 1 liter soda bottles with fresh milk, tied bottles to rope and hung them over his shoulder and we were off. As we began our journey on foot, he delivered the milk and collected empty bottles delivered days before. There isn't much to do with the cows, they pretty much roamed in any direction they felt like. Byron complained about their eating habits. He asked "Why the hell can't they eat all this grass? Why do they have to go way up the hill to eat? It's the same gras!!!" By the time all the milk was delivered the grass grew to my torso and mosquitoes appeared to be flying spiders. These mosquitoes even big through jeans! After 4 hours of "herding", Byron called for a lunch break. He broke out a liter of Coke and four little bags of chips. That's it. That was our lunch. Needless to say, I was pissed. I didn't express my disappointment because I didn't want to offend him, but I was outraged. I later considered that he had already given me half of his pay, then used his half to buy our "lunch", leaving him with only a quarter of his regular pay.

After this hearty lunch, Byron told me he had to "chapiar" (clear a field with a machete) at his uncles house up on the hill. We arrived at the little house under siege by the grass. He went inside and brought out two machetes and a file, proceeded to sharpen the machetes and handed me one. While he did this I walked around kicking air and swinging my arms to keep the mosquitoes from biting. He gave me a quick training in machete skills. I proceeded to swing the machete like a bat at a t-ball. As expected from a city slicker, I failed miserably at my first experience with clearing a field. Pay attention to machete training to avoid back injuries or loss of digits.

We finally decided to head back to the village before sunset. I was dead tired by this time. We walked the cows back to the "farm" and to my surprise, many of the cows jumped over the fence to get back in. I didn't even know that cows can jump! He invited me into his home for dinner. Before entering he warned me, "I have three sister, if you mess with any of them, I'll kill you". ok... His sisters were nice and they CAN COOK!

After dinner I headed back home and began counting my blessings. I rolled something up, bumped some Talib Kweli and Kanye and began planning my take over on the world. That experience is just what I needed to "get back on the grind". I also decided that I would continue to try and experience a day in the life of a Honduran for research toward my 2039 presidential campaign. Seriously, well... maybe.

Month's later, a lady posted this on Honduras Living. Props to her! By this time I was living in La Ceiba selling coconuts on the beach. I'll write about that in another post.

> I have a challenge to those who think the average Honduran worker is paidenough. Take an average job working in a field or in a maquila, making the same average wage, for one month, all the time living in comparable conditions. Thenreport back to us on the adequacy of the average Honduran paycheck.>>

I love you for putting this out there. I'm actually doing this as research for my 2040 campaign. I'll start a new thread on it.Carlos M - La Ceiba - Not too good with a machete, cows or the hot sun...

My First Job - Carpet Cleaning Apprentice


Although my first taste of employment wasn't fun, sanitary or voluntary, I learned valuable lessons during my tenure as a carpet cleaning apprentice. My stepfather Antonio, or "Toño", owned carpet cleaning equipment that almost materialized his American Dream and at the same time created nightmares for me. Since I was the oldest child in the home, I was expected to assist with any jobs that didn't coincide with school hours. Although I wasn't thrilled to help or bond with my stepfather, I always tried to do a good job. After all, I was getting paid. Peanuts, but it's the lessons learned that count at that age.

We traveled in his pick up and I awaited our arrival impatiently like Hussein Bolt waiting to burst out of the blocks. After helping unload the cleaning equipment and supplies I scurried into the work site and meticulously scanned the carpet for any small objects that may damage the equipment and pretreated stains.
The main targets were staples, coins, nails (both kind, I'm gagging and the memories), and everything else that isn't dust or hair. At the same time Toño assembled his spin brush machine like someone putting a Harley Davidson back together. Milliseconds after the machine was put together he would always ask, "No has terminado?" and before that last tone in a sentence that identifies a question came out, he would proceed to shout in typical Honduran fashion "HEH!!! NO'MBE, NO ESTAS EN NADA! SI NO ESTUVIERAS ABRIENDO LA JETA YA HUBIERAS TERMINADO!" I don't know how you read "HEH!!!", but a million exclamation marks aren't enough to express his emphasis on that. I used to cringe at that sound. Every time he would burst one out I knew that was a penalty on my compensation.
Image from jccarpet.com
The following hour or so became pretty uneventful for me, I blankly followed Toño around trying to keep the electric cord off the carpet behind him. When the brushing was finished I hurried over to the vacuum machine and connected the hose and head piece, filled it with water rolled it into the room where the carpet was brushed last. Since the vacuum absorbs the fluids that were emitted from both the spin brush and vacuum (final treatment), it will require emptying a few times before the objective was completed. Alone at the bottom of the latter, I had to shoulder this responsibility. This led me to despise any customers opting for dwelling in apartments higher than the first floor in buildings without elevators. The dirty water aspirated was like yoo-hoo. I could barely carry the five gallon bucket to the street without resting along the way. On more than one occasion, I spilled the filthy water on already cleaned carpet.

The compensation was a slap in the face. My "allowance" was $5 a week (no I didn't grow up in the 50's, we were po' folks), but if I worked I didn't get an allowance. I only got what I earned. How much you ask? $5 bucks... If I complained, then I got a slap in the face, literally.

Antonio would always promise to leave his equipment to me so I can carry on with the "family business". I would always think to myself, "The moment you look away, I'm rolling these things off a cliff." I always pictured the machines being blown up by dynamite, or falling of the back of the pick up and rolling until they collided with a train. I remember being really embarrassed by having to work, unlike my school friends. I also dreaded being seen carrying the carpet cleaning equipment. I laugh at young vanity, I'm now proud to have worked all these odd jobs in my early years.

I don't remember how long I had to help with this, but it was longer than I would have preferred. This job sucked, but you have to start somewhere. A few years after this dude separated from my mom he put a little business together. He set up a computers, ads (fliers), and a dedicated phone line for it. He didn't know how to use a computer, or even what he would use it for so he called me up to help. I became his "office manager" at the age of 16. I guess that was my first "office" gig. I didn't know what to do either, so I began setting up a schedule from the phone calls, and making fliers on paint. I didn't like the guy much, but now I have a deep appreciation for him because he taught me how to work hard. It was his lessons that lead me to believe that it's better to "work smart, not hard".

Image from extracta.co.uk

Saturday, November 21, 2009

The Best Baleada in Honduras

A Baleada is a staple food in Honduras. Flour tortillas, beans, dry cheese, (censilla or plain) and whatever else you want on them (preparada or prepared, make sure you specify what you want though). A burrito you ask? No. The Baleada is one level down on the evolution chart.

Allow me to explain: A burrito wraps it's contents, thus allowing you more convenience while eating. In a Baleada, the tortilla merely folds over its contents, sometimes causing its contents to drip off the ends of tear through the tortilla. In short, you can ride a bike or skateboard (even drive, although I don't recommend it) while eating a burrito, you can't with a Baleada.

For me it is a must to immediately find the best Baleada when going somewhere in Honduras I've never been. I've had some hilarious conversations regarding the common belief that only certain women can make a good baleada. Apparently, the woman's (typical) hands must be at a certain temperature and right size produce a good tortilla.

If you'd like to join a Facebook group created in appreciation of the Baleada, you may do so here:


The best Baleadas in Honduran cities I've lived in:

San Pedro Sula, Cortes
  • I have to give this one to Baleadas Express. BE is quick, delicious, and they make them big there.
  • Runner up goes to the Texaco Station at Ave. Circumvalacion and 1ra calle. This place is open 24 Hrs, this is the place everyone heads to after the bars and dance clubs.
La Ceiba, Atlantida
  • The best place in La Ceiba has to be Super Baleadas, located near the Banana Republic Guesthouse and Las Guacamayas hostels.
  • Mazapan has good Baleadas too, but they premake tortillas and set them under a heat lamp.
  • "La linea" refers to the stretch of railroads where people set up shop and sell food. Baleadas are available there until the early hours, but I don't reccommend anyone go out there looking for them that late.
Tela, Atlantida
  • Ask anyone in Tela for the best Baleada and they will more than likely respond with "Tia Carmen". I don't know what the secret is, but they are BOMB! This place is located in front of Telamar. Good Coffee too!
El Porvenir, Cortes
  • The only place that sells baleadas in El Porvenir is located at the "Pavimentada". They're ok.
Roatan, Islas de la Bahia
  • Roatan hasn't mastered the art of the Baleada. (Update: I recently discovered a caseta that makes excellent Baleadas. I've had them there twice, great both times. I'm heading back tomorrow for a "special" baleada the owner offered me. It has to be good since she couldn't make it at that moment.
Chachahuate, Cayos Cochinos
  • I got awesome baleadas at the community restaurant on Chachahuate, on of the two inhabited keys on Cayos Chochinos. Although I ordered them at the restaurant, they came out of a house down the beach a bit. It appears that they distribute the orders to the homes when the restaurant kitchen was closed.

Friday, November 6, 2009

Hip Hop Vs. Classical

This song is in my top ten favorites of all time!!! When things aren't going right or I feel down, this puts me back on the grind. I rarely listen to this without tearing up. SERIOUSLY! I had to add the lyrics below for anyone that hasn't heard it before. "I know I can!"
For anyone of you struggling on a daily basis trying to improve your living conditions, get your mind staright, everything else will straighten out on its own.

"I Can"

I know I can (I know I can)
Be what I wanna be (be what I wanna be)
If I work hard at it (If I work hard at it)
I'll be where I wanna be (I'll be where I wanna be)

Be, B-Boys and girls, listen up
You can be anything in the world, in God we trust
An architect, doctor, maybe an actress
But nothing comes easy it takes much practice
Like, I met a woman who's becoming a star
She was very beautiful, leaving people in awe
Singing songs, Lina Horn, but the younger version
Hung with the wrong person
Got her strung on that
Heroin, cocaine, sniffin up drugs all in her nose...
Coulda died, so young, now looks ugly and old
No fun cause now when she reaches for hugs people hold they breath
Cause she smells of corrosion and death
Watch the company you keep and the crowd you bring
Cause they came to do drugs and you came to sing
So if you gonna be the best, I'ma tell you how,
Put your hands in the air, and take a vow

[Chorus - 2x (Nas and Kids)]
I know I can (I know I can)
Be what I wanna be (be what I wanna be)
If I work hard at it (If I work hard at it)
I'll be where I wanna be (I'll be where I wanna be)

Be, B-Boys and girls, listen again
This is for grown looking girls who's only ten
The ones who watch videos and do what they see
As cute as can be, up in the club with fake ID
Careful, 'fore you meet a man with HIV
You can host the TV like Oprah Winfrey
Whatever you decide, be careful, some men be
Rapists, so act your age, don't pretend to be
Older than you are, give yourself time to grow
You thinking he can give you wealth, but so
Young boys, you can use a lot of help, you know
You thinkin life's all about smokin weed and ice
You don't wanna be my age and can't read and write
Begging different women for a place to sleep at night
Smart boys turn to men and do whatever they wish
If you believe you can achieve, then say it like this


Be, be, 'fore we came to this country
We were kings and queens, never porch monkeys
There was empires in Africa called Kush
Timbuktu, where every race came to get books
To learn from black teachers who taught Greeks and Romans
Asian Arabs and gave them gold when
Gold was converted to money it all changed
Money then became empowerment for Europeans
The Persian military invaded
They heard about the gold, the teachings, and everything sacred
Africa was almost robbed naked
Slavery was money, so they began making slave ships
Egypt was the place that Alexander the Great went
He was so shocked at the mountains with black faces
Shot up they nose to impose what basically
Still goes on today, you see?
If the truth is told, the youth can grow
Then learn to survive until they gain control
Nobody says you have to be gangstas, hoes
Read more learn more, change the globe
Ghetto children, do your thing
Hold your head up, little man, you're a king
Young Princess when you get your wedding ring
Your man is saying "She's my queen"


Save the music y'all, save the music y'all
Save the music y'all, save the music y'all
Save the music

I had to put on a Throwback... not referring to a jersey - Bruce Hornsby Vrs. Tupac Amaru Shakur

Another post on Hip Hop!!!! I would have zero exposure to legendary artists without Hip Hop artists introducing me to them. I love the genre! It is ME. It voices my frustrations and highlights my achivements. It inspires me to see someone coming from "the gutter" and then "getting it" thourgh hard work and dedication. Someone rhyming about being on welfare and later on buying a house for "mama" is the type of ish that drives me. Not to say that other genres don't "keep it real", Hornsby is straight up truth on this song!

If you don't like or understand it, I don't blame you. It exposes the harsh realities experienced in an urban enviroment, also third world countries. The "man" whomever that is to you, would rather opaque Hip Hop's brilliance because it's the voice of people they are taking advantage of. Again, not all Hip Hop is worthy of my time or attention. But the songs I will post on here have powerful messages that should not be ignored. Messages that are so disturbing you'd rather turn away, but you shouldn't. You should make an attempt to understand it instead of fear it. It's poetry to my ears. Watch the youtube vids and then take a minute to read Tupac's lyrics below.

If you missed it, here is my first Hip Hop blog entry

Come on come on
I see no changes
wake up in the morning and I ask myself
is life worth living should I blast myself?
I'm tired of bein' poor & even worse I'm black
my stomach hurts so I'm lookin' for a purse to snatch
Cops give a damn about a negro
pull the trigger kill a nigga he's a hero
Give the crack to the kids who the hell cares
one less hungry mouth on the welfare
First ship 'em dope & let 'em deal the brothers
give 'em guns step back watch 'em kill each other
It's time to fight back that's what Huey said
2 shots in the dark now Huey's dead
I got love for my brother but we can never go nowhere
unless we share with each other
We gotta start makin' changes
learn to see me as a brother instead of 2 distant strangersand
that's how it's supposed to be
How can the Devil take a brother if he's close to me?
I'd love to go back to when we played as kids
but things changed, and that's the way it is
[Bridge w/ changing ad libs]
Come on come on
That's just the way it is
Things'll never be the same
That's just the way it is
aww yeah
I see no changes all I see is racist faces
misplaced hate makes disgrace to races
We under I wonder what it takes to make this
one better place, let's erase the wasted
Take the evil out the people they'll be acting right
'cause both black and white is smokin' crack tonight
and only time we chill is when we kill each other
it takes skill to be real, time to heal each other
And although it seems heaven sent
We ain't ready, to see a black President,
uhh It ain't a secret don't conceal the fact
the penitentiary's packed, and it's filled with blacks
But some things will never change
try to show another way but you stayin' in the dope game
Now tell me what's a mother to do
bein' real don't appeal to the brother in you
You gotta operate the easy way
"I made a G today" But you made it in a sleazy way
sellin' crack to the kid. " I gotta get paid,
"Well hey, well that's the way it is
We gotta make a change...It's time for us as a people to start makin' some changes.
Let's change the way we eat, let's change the way we live
and let's change the way we treat each other.
You see the old way wasn't working so it's on us to do
what we gotta do, to survive.
And still I see no changes
can't a brother get a little peace
It's war on the streets & the war in the Middle East
Instead of war on poverty they got a war on drugs
so the police can bother me
And I ain't never did a crime I ain't have to do
But now I'm back with the facts givin' it back to you
Don't let 'em jack you up, back you up,
crack you up and pimp smack you up
You gotta learn to hold ya own
they get jealous when they see ya with ya mobile phone
But tell the cops they can't touch this
I don't trust this when they try to rush I bust this
That's the sound of my tool you say it ain't cool
my mama didn't raise no fool
And as long as I stay black I gotta stay strapped
& I never get to lay back'
Cause I always got to worry 'bout the pay backs
some punk that I roughed up way back
comin' back after all these years
rat-tat-tat-tat-tat that's the way it is uhh
[Bridge 'til fade:]Some things will never change
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