Archive for the ‘Music’ Category

The Queen of Cooking Paula Deen is in hot water. Her critics are boiling mad that she used the N-word decades ago. Sponsors like Home Depot, Target, Walmart and the Food Network are dropping her like a hot potato. Their argument is half-baked at best.

I’m not a fan of the N-word and, for the record, I haven’t used it myself. But the hypocrisy from the politically correct crowd is stunning. Where was the same outrage when Ludacris—President Obama’s favorite rapper—wrote the little ditty “Too Many Niggas Not Enough Hoes“?

Take Eminem, who used the N-word back in 1993. He claims the rap was “made out of anger, stupidity and frustration when I was a teenager.” At the time he rapped, “All the girls I like to bone have big butts/ No they don’t, ’cause I don’t like that n***er shit/ I’m just here to make a bigger hit.” N-word aside, gotta like his view of women.

Rapper 50 Cent, who uses the N-word constantly, told NBC’s Today Show, “I’m not using it as a racial slur . . . It’s just slang.” He gets a pass from the left for raps like “To All My Niggars“and “The Realset Niggars“.

Then there’s Jesse Jackson who called then Sen. Barack Obama the N-word for which he has apologized—good for him. Not to mention Def Jam founder Russell Simmons who defended the use of the N-word, saying, “When we say ‘nigger’ now, it’s very positive.”

If the N-word is so “very positive” now, why does Paula Deen get a bad rap? To her credit, Paula has apologized several times. Can’t say the same thing about Ludacris, 50 Cent, or any number of rappers who have sold millions of albums with the N-word. This begs the question: Why are Walmart and Target still carrying their albums, books and videos?


Curtis Jackson is a rapper who goes by the name “50 Cent” . . . I’m told that 2 out of 3 gangsters surveyed prefer to pronounce his stage name as “Fitty Cent.” So, Fitty, or if you prefer, Mr. Cent has made a pretty penny shooting his mouth off about how bad he is. Considering that his latest album Street King Immortal is slated for next month, I thought a quick recap of his rap was in order.

His 2003 debut album, Get Rich or Die Tryin’, sold more than 12 million non-biodegradable CDs. Which is too bad—the compost pile is where that disc belongs with its graphic tales of cold blooded murder, gun slinging, point-blank gang-banging, and whacked-out-on-drugs hoodlum pabulum.

If trashing up both the airwaves AND the environment wasn’t enough, Fitty envisioned taking his twisted reality and dumping it into theaters across the country.

In 2005, Get Rich or Die Tryin’—the movie—debuted. From a sheer artistic endeavor, this flick was so bad (as in lousy) that it’s not even a worthy 99-cent rental. Let’s set aside the 200+ f-words that pulverize movie goers . . . or the full frontal nudity and pursuit of all things oral . . . or the slow-motioned, drive-by rampages . . . or the knife stabbings, gold teeth being yanked from a man’s mouth, suffocations, and close-ups of blood streaming from wounds . . . underneath all of the posing and brooding for the camera, 50/Fitty displays a sheer delight in the thug life.

The plot thickened, however, when (more…)

Maddonna is back in the news with her 2012 MDNA tour—in which she bares her bum and tosses in a nipple flash. No “wardrobe malfunction” here. It’s all part of the family entertainment.

Upon reading a concert review, I recalled how several years back the Blonde One lectured the world about “sin” and warned that people “are going to go to hell, if they don’t turn from their wicked behavior.” That fiery judgment came on the heels of her blasting television as an evil influence. She said, “TV is trash . . . my kids don’t watch TV.” The Naked One added, “We don’t have magazines or newspapers in the house either.”

Let’s set aside the irony of a woman who made millions leveraging her overexposure on TV now calling that medium the devil. That’s like the pot calling the kettle black, or, more to the point, like Victoria Secrets calling Ambercrombie & Fitch kinky . . . Still, she’s entitled to have a change of heart.

We were told that Maddonna’s inspiration for “holiness” came from her study of Kabbalah. That presents a problem. Not long after her alignment with Kabbalah, the queen of S&M and all things perverse hit the road in 2006 for a series of concerts. What did fans see?

Would Maddonna lecture the audience about the evils of TV? Would she offer a weepy confessional for the twenty years of sticking her cleavage in our face? Perhaps an apology for her humping and grinding every time she got in front of an MTV camera?

No. Maddy decided to mock the Christian faith by appearing crucified on a cross. I’m not entirely surprised. This is the same person who once spouted, “Crucifixes are sexy because there’s a naked man on them” (SPIN, 5/1985).

Fast forward to her MDNA Tour. This time out the 53-year-old boob crossed the lines of decency by, among other things, baring her moo-moos in Istanbul to a largely Muslim audience. Nice. Still, her shock and awe flesh-flashing schtick—”cheap thrills” as Janis Joplin would say—pales by comparison to her mixing of the crucifixes and satanic symbols (as she did in Tel Aviv).

One concert reviewer reports: “The show turns into a big Black Mass insulting Christianity. Madonna’s Black Mass included monks turning into male strippers along with guts, guns and satanic symbols being flashed on the walls.”

While various organizations have called for a boycott of her concerts, I’d take a different route. It seems to me that when someone has lost their mind so as to spit in the face of God by mocking the sacrifice of Jesus on the cross, probably the best course of action is to stand back—way back—and let God handle the matter.


This might come as a surprise to you, but I love rap music. Give me Eminem, Snoop Dogg, or Dr. Dre any day—awwww yeah! I especially love listening to rap music when it’s played at full volume . . . three hundred miles out in the middle of the Atlantic ocean!

Okay, so I lied. I’m not really a hip hop fan.

Let’s just say I’ve never managed to get into Eminem’s whole crotch-grabbing scene. Besides, I just think his music is crap.

However, the fact that I, as a 50-something white boy, wouldn’t buy an Eminem album to save my life doesn’t mean that I have a right to sit in judgment of teenagers who do—or so I’ve been told.

And, frankly, I’m working to come to terms with that reality. You see, according to the Enlightened Ones who move among us, you and I are disqualified to make value judgments about the merits of today’s hip hop and hoodlum music industry for at least three reasons:

1)    We think a “crib” is the place where a baby sleeps

2)    We think a drive-by is hip slang for a drive-thru

3)    Wearing gold chains around our necks just gets in the way of our walkers.

The sooner you and I make peace with the fact we’re from the medieval times, the better. We’re just parents. We’re not music experts.

We’re not cool like the tattooed-gods with gold-capped teeth on MTV who drive around the streets of Hollywood in the latest armor-plated Hummer. What could we possibly know, I mean really know about the music industry? Nor are we as smart as the music editors at RollingStoned magazine or the executive vidiots at MTV who are clearly the authorities on what’s best for our children.


Screwing up your kids has never been easier, more affordable—or more fun.

While few adults would admit they actually desire to screw up their kids, their actions speak louder than words. In reality, the overwhelming majority of blitzed American parents have abdicated their role as the primary shapers of their kids morality, virtue, and work ethic.

While this may seem problematic, thankfully an army of teachers—as well as the media elite, cultural icons, and complete strangers—are filling the void, serving as surrogate parents so you can chill out and do your own thing.

Most adults, whether they mean to or not, make choices which screw up their kids. If that’s you, don’t feel like a slug—you’re actually in good company. Indeed, you are in the growing majority of negligent adults. I say it’s time for the guilt trip to stop.

You have every right to medicate, placate, and arbitrate the peace in your home while assuaging the guilt you may feel for missing their birthdays, their school plays, their sports—or their entire childhood—in order to pursue the things that you really want. (more…)

It was a rude awakening for the quiet little town of Carl Junction, Missouri—a community with just over 5,000 residents. In the nearby woods, three teenagers murdered a friend—partly out of curiosity—with baseball bats.

Each of the boys had a particular interest in black metal music—music with lyrics that tell of torture and destruction. According to newspaper accounts, Jim Hardy, Ron Clements and Pete Roland matter-of-factly stated that they wondered what it would feel like to kill someone.

The victim, Steven Newberry, while being fatally clubbed to death, repeatedly asked his schoolmates, “Why me, you guys?” His friends replied, “Because it’s fun, Steve.”

You might want to read that again.

About the same time, a twelve-year-old boy was convicted of raping his five-year-old stepsister. “He said he got the idea while watching TV at his aunt’s house,” explains Police Lt. Thomas Hull of San Leandro, California.

Flipping through the channels, this adolescent stumbled on a program that showed an intimate lovemaking scene. “We don’t know what the program was, whether it was an adult channel or a so-called soap opera,” reported Lt. Hull.

After the rape, when asked why he did it, the youngster told police “It looked like fun.”

Did you notice the common thread weaving these unrelated events together? Children in a quest for fun . . . they just wanted a good time. Nothing more. No big deal. (more…)