"Best blogger alive!"

There, see how asinine that sounded?

I'm going to (kind of) talk about our good-ol' hip hop music again today...

I am led to remember when one was qualified as the "best rapper alive" because they ACTUALLY were damned good rappers, and not because they had a grasp on the collective ignorance of the buying/listening public enough to sell more copies than those who were actually better than -- but not properly marketed, comparatively speaking -- than them.

Vanilla Ice sold 11 MILLION copies of To The Extreme and Hammer sold over 10 MILLION copies of Please Hammer Don't Hurt 'Em -- both of which I owned copies of back when I was 10 -- and I don't recall either of them running around claiming to be the "best rapper alive," nor do I see either of them running around now these days behaving as if they still even fucking matter in music these days, though Rob Van Winkle showed how insignificant he was in Reality TV on VH1, who has made stars of literal nobodies who have LOST out on the shows of real famous people. In fact, Hammer and Mick Boogie put out a free mixtape back in June that I TRIED with all I could to avoid downloading at the time... To my credit, I only listened to it about 2-3 times, though it will not be stricken from the archives of my external hard drive for any reason short of another catastrophic failure of one.

Anyway, back to the task at hand in that strange manner that only I will fashion.

Somewhere back within the last 12 or so years, REALLY good rappers started dying, only to find themselves held as the so-called "greatest," in the midst of the void caused by each and their respective expiration. Around this time, given that we had lost Biggie; 2Pac; Big L and Big Pun due to senseless violence and poor personal health respectively. In an act of good old-fashioned corpsefucking, the deceased individuals' respective handlers (ALL except Big L's, that is) went out of their way to cash in their legacies at the expense of said legacies with posthumous collaborations with artists they'd have NEVER fucked with when alive. It stands to reason that their unreleased-while-alive material was that way for a reason (again, with the exception of Big L, who just couldn't get the shine he deserved while alive).
Anyway, the next sign of disrespect came when EVERYONE, no matter how shitty they were, began claiming "heir to the throne," or "king of [region formerly occupied by the recently deceased]" or the utterly disrespectful "best rapper alive."

Anyone with an ounce of common sense should know that sales does not make you "great," and certainly not the "best," so much as it does the "most successful," and that is not a knock on those who DO sell records in thr favor of those who just don't. I will readily admit that I am just not willing to give $5 bucks to some dude at a gas station or the Wal Mart parking lot to listen to a CDR of him and his homies bitch for 70 minutes about why they're not signed to a major and not getting the burn they feel they deserve. Shit, that 5 dollars is a 6-pack of Yuengling, which I am known and in fact guarantee myself to enjoy.
As a student of the game, I full-on understand the amount of bravado required, as a means of imparting your outwardly-displayed confidence on your listener, much in the same manner that we look up to James Bond to be able to fuck someone's woman before shooting or otherwise maiming them in some spectacular fashion. Much the same way we might expect a doctor to actually sure SOMEONE or a surgeon to perform their operations. Similar to how we expect public school teachers to teach our kids to be good little workers when they grow up. [damn, oops] Much the same way we expect Superman, Batman or Spiderman to save the day in their own little way. Much the same manner that we expect the police to keep crime off the streets and ensure the safety of the constituency. [okay, bad example with that one].

I say all that to say this...
When one goes and makes the claim to be the "best [item] alive," or apply bullshit modifiers such as "top 5 dead or alive," when in the blue hell is it anything short of acceptable to ask -- no, DEMAND -- that they fucking prove it?
One could think of it as if a basketball player -- let's use the pseudonym of "LeBron Raymone James -- went around claiming to be the "best player in the league" while not having actually WON anything at the level on which it matters while other players who can stake a claim for the same have. Wouldn't that be ODD?!!?
Oh shit, wait. [am I on a roll today or what?]

Without naming names here, we have all heard rappers from all corners of the country (and perhaps a couple from Canuckistan) who are NOT the "best alive" claim themselves to be JUST that. The realization that has failed each of them is that they speak this to a medium that lends itself ONLY to subjective judgment, judgment of the hands of a public that is comprised mostly of fucking sheep who would not know their asshole from a hole in the wall. That just goes to say that there is NOTHING that is definite, especially when one considers the discriminatory differences born in each of us -- whether we concede to them or not -- based upon race or geography, both are HUGE detractors in letting our guards down in this hip hop shit (seriously, I could PUNCH the next motherfucker STILL mentioning "taking your shirt off and spinning it around your head like a helicopter when it comes out that I am a hip hop addict from NC).

What's funny is the number of rappers that are universally panned as being fucking terrible, but make claims to "the best," based solely on their ability to use a dance that matches their song and the lengths that such a thing lends to 13 year-old girls hitting up mommy and daddy for their recession money on Tuesday mornings, or perhaps even "borrowing" the credit card and buying it on iTunes.

As the new self-proclaimed best blogger alive -- with my (to date, including this one) 137 posts in 10 months, 2 of which yielded zero additions to the count and several of were reposts from my MySpace blog -- I am proclaiming now that everything that we had previously learned about being the "best" at ANYTHING has been turned on its ear. Gone are the days where I would have to bow to the masters that were annoyances like being "entertaining," "interesting," "relevant," "different" or even "informative." Never mind that I refuse to have one concept, plan or modus operandi, I just post what comes out when my hands hit the keyboard, sometimes even posting something that it actually funny.
All I need now is to SAY that I am the best blogger alive, qualified by the most unspecific and very dynamic set of criteria, naturally able to be changed to suit my right-ness no matter the argument you might try to present to the contrary. If nothing else, the precedent for my claims is set in the hip hop artists we have all listened to at some point or another making the claims to the tops of their profession.

Ladies and gentlemen, please throw out the rose petals in my path to my coronation as the new Best Blogger Alive.
Kiss the rings, bitch.


Tony Grands said…
Good shit...

Sincerely, the B.B.O.A.T.!

*cue Westside Connection's "Bow Down"*
Anonymous said…
Lol, you should know better than to let others know what pisses you off. Especially ones that will tell you to take your shirt off, next time they see you. -Josh

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