CHICKEN McNUGGETS

Probably the number one question I get from anyone concerning my blog is:

"Does Eve read your blog?"

No, she doesn't, thank God. Her job doesn't allow her much web-surfing time, and she doesn't have Internet access at home. But I wonder what she would say if she ever found my blog and read what I've written. I think she'd be pissed at first, because she would see it as a violation of her privacy. However, I've been wise to not give EVERYTHING away... and of course, it's all just my version of events anyway. If there's one thing Eve accepts about me, it's my out-of-control ego and the way I tweak things in order to fit my artistic agenda.

For example, I'm not afraid to make myself look bad, because it adds a dimension to my blog persona. When I was "Sex McGinty", I would go far out of my way to offend and put people off. But writing as "James", I am less inclined to use this blog as a bully pulpit or an attack forum.

As a rule, if someone reads my blog, I don't refer to them in detail. I learned my lesson regarding this early on-- it can be a terrible thing to know that you are being referred to on a blog that the whole world has an opportunity to see.

Luckily, I'm not read by a large number of people. The count has never gone into triple digits, as of this writing.

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The hardest thing for me is to let things go. I got banned yet again from the Los Angeles version of Craig's List, after harassing someone. I was doing so good, not posting, not starting shit for a spell. But then last month, my nemesis-- a guy who calls himself "G______" --started posting again, and I went after him. I had him on the run-- you see, through strange circumstances I ended up with that guy's personal info one day. He sent me an e-mail and I had his real name and where he was posting from, so I did a very very bad thing and I posted his personal stats on CL RnR.

I guessed he complained to them, because I was banned instantly, and all of my posts were deleted.

To top it off, he's been gloating about "winning" the battle between us, which makes me mad because he basically tattled on me, like a little kid. Of course, it wasn't very mature of me to out his true identity, but this dude was claiming he knew who I was, and when I dared him to out me, he backpedaled.

God, I need to get a life... fighting with computer geeks online is like snatching bags from little kids on Halloween.

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Thanks to all those who have been to the animation site. I expect to re-vamp the entire site in less than a month. I've been doing it the hard way-- someone is going to give me a copy of Dreamweaver, which will instantly fix at least half of the flaws that are present.

Thanks also to those who gave advice and tips-- I read every e-mail I get, and I take it all to heart. No one has given me spurious advice or unrealistic opinions. It's good to know that the people who still read this ragtag blog are generous with their expertise and their knowledge.

In the radio biz, I have become acclimated to engineers and techies who don't want to share their know-how. They are scared of being replaced or passed up by quick learners. They treat their jobs and duties like Masonic rites, trade secrets that can never be revealed to the unilluminated.

Personally, I think it's wiser to make allies and to encourage people to learn more. Not everyone in the biz is an info hog. I give mad props to those who are truly helpful, who have nothing but good intentions and my best interests at heart.

Those are the people who, if this animation thing takes off, will not be forgotten by me. I never forget what people have done for me, even if (as I explained in yesterday's post) I sometimes don't seem to give proper credit where it's due.

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One of my all-time favorite personal hip-hop moments was way back in the mid-'90's, well after the Black Love years had faded.

I was at a Cal Arts party, having been invited by Sharky's younger brother, who was attending the school. At one point, an MC was up on an outdoor stage, busting rhymes. The MC was skilled, in the sense that his rhymes were witty, and his flow was the standard backpacker style that is popular in the underground-- the kind of flow where the MC is trying to stuff as many words as he can into one verse.

His mic handling was hindering him, however. The way he was holding the mic, no one could hear him or make out what he was saying. I asked someone in the back if anyone could bust a verse, and he said, "Sure." So I waited my turn.

The one thing I noticed was that no one was engaged by this MC. I think it was because he sounded like everyone else, or perhaps he just couldn't be heard through the PA system. He was competent, at least in my estimation, but the crowd was not responding. And if you ask me, that's a shame, because as Rakim once said, "MC to me means 'Move the Crowd'"...

So when I got up on the mic, I instantly started my shit off with some Ol' School shiznit:


"Throw your motherfuckin' hands in the aaaaaaiiiiiirrrrr
And wave 'em like you just don't caaaaaaarrrrrree
Sombody say HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"


Everybody said "Ho!" and raised their hands in the air. My voice carries very well, so everyone heard me loud and clear. The work was halfway done.

Then I recited an old verse I'd written from my high school days, a verse that was meant to be a parody of gangsta rap. I was always fascinated with the fact that these so-called "gangstas" were rapping about crimes that, most likely, still fell under some sort of jurisdiction. I mean, what is the statute of limitations on a gangsta rap verse anyway?

Couldn't their rhymes be used against them in a court of law?

So this is how my verse went:


"Eight O' Clock on the corner of Slausson
I have beef and I'm gonna start tossin' up
suckaz who step in my path-- they feel the wrath
when I pull the motherfuckin' trigger and laugh
Saturday, June 5th, 1989
You already know the time
In the morning I contemplated yelling out a warning
before I smoked the motherfucker..."


Note that I already used 'motherfucker' twice, and the last line of that verse didn't even rhyme!


"...But no, that would give me away,
So I pulled out the 9 millimeter and the A-K
I grabbed a clip and put it in my gun
The registration number read 6-7-5-zero-3-1
I got out of the car, it was a brown sedan
The license read R-double-Z-4-ten
I stood across the street from the liquor store
There was going to be an all-out gang war..."


Hold on, wait a minute-- it gets better.


"I had on some Reebok Pumps and some Levi's
a blue tank top and a hat to disguise
myself as I loaded up to clock on that sucker
Premeditated to the motherfucker
I shot that fool in the chest then I ran for the car
'cause the cops would be lookin' for a crook
so I booked and I drove to my secret hideaway--
Twenty-two Twenty-two Twin Oaks Way
All I remember was a flash of red
as I put the murder weapon underneath my bed
and I kept it there ever since that day
The fingerprints matched and so did the DNA
I didn't mean to leave my wallet as a clue
I shoulda popped the guy with the camera too
And even as I ran for the border
I got stopped by a TV reporter..."


And so on.

The rap ended with me getting away scot-free, despite giving an interview with a news crew, taking out a full-page ad in the Times, and basically confessing to a vicious gang murder. I thought it was pretty funny at the time, and the crowd was all into it. They applauded me, much more than they applauded the other MC, who I thought was pretty good and deserved more accolades.

However, when you're an MC, you're the Master of Ceremonies. You gotta make the crowd love you. You won't be able to win everybody over, but you still have to try.

Later on, Sharky's younger bro informed me that a few girls he was hanging with were upset at my rhymes. They thought I was actually promoting gang violence.

I laughed and said, "The rest of the crowd was diggin' it. Weren't they paying attention to what I was actually saying?"

I guess there's some things you can't learn in college...