On the Internet, Slangin' Shit Like Dope...

Yes indeed. Chaddie B is a digital d-boy. Flipping shit like flea market. Making that profit. The world is my consumer base. eBay is the block I'm on. I do my thing digitally slangin'; not merely buying, but I sell a lot of shit as well. As a matter of fact, by clicking on the Ja Rule autographed dollar below (which is also up for auction) you can see what I'm slangin'...

I'm Rolling, They're Hating...

Rather than disturb everyone in a ten-foot radius of me with an annoying ringtone of some simplistic contemporary Hip-Hop tune, I choose to keep my phone on vibrate. My phone goes off. I reach and pull it out of my change pocket of my Polo jeans. “Hello?” It was the homie Chuck Dukie; excuse me, I have to take this call. From the cheap seats, where the rancor usually originates, comes “Check out Mr. Fancy Pants with the new iPhone.” Yeah. Check me out. Take notes as the pimp quotes and maybe you’ll perform better tomorrow without the use of Viagra. Incredible how a device as innocuous as an iPhone can cause calamity in the household and race wars amongst similar-looking people. I had a Blackjack, but that shit was horrible. You never think that when you’re paying a few hundred for a phone that it is going to perform worse than the Motorola RAZR that you just upgraded from. These new fandangled phones all have one shortcoming in common; their respective operating systems are the worst. The mobile Windows OS that the Blackjack is ran from is the absolute worst phone operating system I have ever encountered as it somehow how made every single function of the phone horribly difficult to operate. Even to take a picture or text was a chore. It shouldn’t be as arduous as it is to merely play an mp3 on the Blackjack, but it was. The battery life was horrible; the best thing about the phone was that it came with two batteries. Even the blazing speed of the 3G network meant absolutely nothing as the Blackjack can’t compute fast enough to take advantage of this feature. Fuck the Blackjack, time to upgrade...

The hate has been pouring in since I first slid my thumb over that sleek touch screen like I slide my thumb over a pretty young lady's labia. When introducing my buddy Harrison to this cute Indie-Rock girl, I got a text and had to check it, naturally, I pull the iPhone from the pocket to perform this action. “Oh, why don’t you pull out your iPhone again?,” I hear faintly via my left ear in a New Hampshirean accent. So, yeah, I pull it out again. Last weekend in New York I actually lost the iPhone in a cab, but was fortunate enough to have had it found by an honest person. The iPhone even has divine intervention on its side. I think when Christians call on Jesus Christ, Jesus first sees your picture on the touch screen and then sends the call to voicemail, since we know that Yahweh answers prayer when the time is right, not necessarily when you may want him to. On the way to work riding the S4 bus Southbound down 16th Avenue NW, I spotted this little man with the new iPod Nano. There's a bunch of elementary and middle school kids that ride that bus to school, so it kind of takes me back to those good old days on the yellow bus; the normal sized one, not the short one, although, that is a story for another time. Little man was watching Family Guy on his Nano and all the kids on the bus come over to his seat and are on some "oooooooooh!" shit when they see the iPod Nano in action. I was pumping some disco, nothing like a little Chic to start off the day. The vibe was changing and I felt like switching to some Style Council, so I pulled my iPhone out of my jacket pocket and started to flick the album covers displayed on the screen like an old retired lady does spinning that rainbow wheel on the Showcase Showdown. One of the kids saw my device out the corner of his eye and was like, "Ooooooooh!!! He's got the iPhone!" Then all of the kids rushed over and crowded around me and started asking informed questions about my device. The little man that had the Nano was looking at me like I just took the girl he had a crush on and he owed me an ass-whooping which was to be administered after school, at the flag pole. Yesterday I dropped my iPhone on the ground and my so-called comrades cheered with delight, “Yeah! Fuck the iPhone! I hope that shit is broke!” Alas naysayers, try as you like, but your ways of abomination will never build a strong nation.

I have promulgated the arrival of the technocracy and have discovered that there is no way I will be able to use a regular cell phone again. The iPhone, while being the best phone ever, does have its faults. The ringtone situation, for those middle school girls that are into them, is dismal to say the least. Apple is trying to fuck over the people once again by having them pay for ringtones from iTunes all because they won’t allow one to make a song that you, yourself, put on the iPhone, the ringtone. Even on the wack-ass Blackjack I could make “Egypt, Egypt” my ringtone if I so desired. There is no 3G support, but Apple said that was due to the inefficiency of power management when using the 3G network. All in all though, I would have to say it is the best phone thus far. Picture me rolling...ld e

Go OJ! Go!

"Men die for freedom, but black men die for white women, who are the symbol of freedom. That was the white man's will, and as long as he has the power to enforce his will upon me, force me to submit to his will in this instance or in any other, I will not be free. I will not be free until the day I can have a white women in my bed and a white man minds his own business. Until that day comes, my entire existence is tainted, poisoned, and I will still be a slave-and so will the white woman."

...the voice of the accused
"The Allegory of the Black Eunuchs"
Soul on Ice
Eldridge Cleaver, 1968

White people and their liberal use of "the N word" have proven to be their downfall. I heard this morning on WTOP a headline that stated that “justice will finally be served.” I thought they were about to say that Black Americans were finally about to get their 40 acres and a mule with a side of reparations, but instead they tell me that the “justice” concerns OJ Simpson and his zany antics as of late. Interestingly, Orenthal has become a figurehead for Black America. Whites see OJ as the ultimate criminal; a Black man that slaughtered in cold blood a beautiful white maiden as pure as the driven snow she plowed into her nose, who then got away with the crime. With the blood that OJ supposedly spilled, came the exoneration of all past atrocities that the white race has committed against Black Americans. A reverse-Jesus if you will. OJ killed both his wife and Ron Pearlman simultaneously with his bare hands and no assistance according to the average white American. OJ was deemed guilty before he got out of that white-ass Bronco. Finally all of this Negro wailing about slavery, lynching, institutional racism, Jim Crow and unequal opportunity would come to a swift, airbag-unleashing halt because one blond woman had been killed.

All this illustrates is that racism is oh, so prevalent in our society, even today. The racist foundations that penetrated almost every facet of American life, kept our contemporary legal system and the American citizens, regardless of race, from objectively looking at the crime and assessing the situation accurately. If they wanted OJ’s head, they should have charged him appropriately. In their mission to systematically and physically destroy OJ, white America decided to try and “hang” OJ. Instead of charging him with something that more realistically applied to his offenses, like conspiracy to commit murder, they tried to convict him as the murderer of two whites. I have always thought OJ didn’t himself, directly kill his wife and Pearlman, but rather, he had the murder committed by some other party, but chose to hang around and watch being the sick fuck he is. Lest we forget that Nicole was in debt to cocaine dealers to the tune of $250,000. I think someone wanted this money and the Juice refused to deliver. Instead of monetary reimbursement, the blood shed from her and Pearlman became payment for everybody’s sins. I still see it as physically impossible for Juice to have sliced up two people on his own without either one escaping. Even for the Juice would that have been a difficult task. But he had to have been present at the scene of the crime, for the Bruno Magli footprint was present, however, from the beginning, there seemed to be no conclusive evidence that he actually killed them himself. Whites wanted OJ’s corpse swinging from a tree at picnic time. Many even began to place bets on the outcome of the trial. Well, when you put a racist-ass cop from one of the most racist jurisdictions on a case in which a big Black buck supposedly slaughtered a lily-white princess and her suitor, there’s bound to be an issue. Mark Fuhrman’s dumb-ass had to first, lie about the fact that he used to liberally flip “nigger” off his tongue while under oath, and then, the dude invokes his Fifth Amendment right to shut the fuck up, which usually just means “Yeah. I did it, but I ain’t about to narc myself out,” when asked whether he had planted or sabotaged any of the evidence in the case. Idiot. They used to love you OJ. When you where non-violent, you had friends. They even deemed it acceptable for you to be in the company of a white, Anglo-Saxon blonde. Watch how quickly the fair-weather fans leap to the other side when the forecast is black. White America… you had your Emmett Till in the form of Nicole Brown-Simpson. OJ could've been lynched way back in 1995 if Fuhrman, like most other white Americans, had had the chutzpah necessary to simply admit that he liked to refer to Black Americans as "niggers" in the privacy of his home or while reciting his favorite rap lyrics.

Quite unexpected was Black people and their blind faith in OJ’s innocence. OJ never seemed to give a fuck about being Black. He had long denounced the plight of the underprivileged Black American, opting rather to entertain white Americans on and off the football field. OJ was one of those fun-loving, non-threatening Negroes that stood as a paradigm for successful assimilation. He’d hop over anything for Hertz. He chose to endorse Pioneer Chicken and even owned a couple of extensions of the franchise. He allowed his caricature to be the face of Dingo Boots; he became a Black cowboy rounding up America with his smooth voice and school boy charm. OJ’s last communication with Black America was when his case became a mockery of justice and was transformed into a racially-influenced fiasco. A lot of Black people really thought that OJ represented them and that his conviction would be a blow against civil rights in America. I remember the day the verdict went down. We were at Viking Hall putting one up. The jury read the "innocent" bit and everyone white in our dorm was pissed and Black people rejoiced like some legislation had been signed. But OJ was no warrior for Black people. He represented what wealth can do for anyone, regardless of race or sex, in America. He was no Paul or Malcolm or Martin or Huey. He was an opportunist that played whatever position necessary to gain advantage; pretty much like his role on the Bills as running back. When the alliance of Black America became opportunistic to him, he reverted back to his All-Star ways and came running back to his Blackness. Black people, being loving and trusting individuals, gave it to him. Our fault. That motherfucker had something to do with that coke head bitch and her paramour’s death. No matter, OJ’s true colors have shined through again, and this time, white America’s got you. Such a shame, as now there exists an equalizer to white America’s heinous crimes against the people of color in this country. OJ will be lynched, one way or another, and now we’ll never get our just due because Judas somehow always makes assists for the other team.

Since I prefer to remember people at their personal best, like the Thriller-era Michael Jackson, let's go back to a time when they loved the Juice...