#MNR: TAX TIME FXCKERY

#MNR: TAX TIME FXCKERY
 
“Even if it’s for a while (tonight). Enjoy this good lovin’ with a smile. We’ll go out tonight.”
Aaron Hall (Guy)
 
 
Raise your hand if you waited until today, the last day before penalty, to file your taxes. Oh. I guess I’m the only one. Slacker. Shit. At least I’m filing this year. I said fuck it last year. I never got my return from 2021, so naturally, 2022 was a dub. Fuck you, pay me. You heard? Truth be told, I had originally planned to go Saturday. But then I got to thinking...fuck I look like wasting an hour or two of my hard-earned Saturday sweating in an office to see whether I owe Biden or Murphy or both? Oops, my bad. I may get some paper back – enough to pay down on a credit card or cop a pair of kix on retail. Yay. Then came Sunday. I was all set to go. I had all my documents from 2022 and 2023...all except for one. Damn. I have to get in contact with HR Monday morning. No problem. It just means pressing my way Monday after work. In turn, that means writing the majority (if not all) of #MNR on Sunday afternoon/evening. Chilly cool-cool. Anyway, I got to go handle my handle tomorrow. Wish me luck. And a couple of returns. Please and thank you. Fuckers.
 
UPDATE: I went to H&R Block, y’all. Shit went left. I got into it with the agent nigga. I didn’t like his approach from the jump. I kept my dignity. I asked for clarity on certain things because I’m no Leroy Norman Lark Jr. This curry eating asshole treated me like I came to the back of the house to request his services. All the while, I’m hearing the brother in the adjacent cubicle speaking to a client who was freaking out because she was in the red for over six bands. Ouch. He was talking to her in a manner and tone that would have made Chris Sabian (IYKYK) proud. I’ll be got damned if I let a seasonal Amazon customer service rep talk to me like I get paid in buckets full of oily, greasy pennies. I didn’t wild him all the way up, but I talked my shit in a very controlled manner. I did get Haji’s business card and his manager’s contact info. Yadda, yadda, yadda...I’m fucked. Hello, Turbo Tax. I’m Tyrone...
 
 
Good evening. Welcome to Monday Night R*w, home to numbers hole frequenters, tax evaders, functioning alcoholics, C-list hood celebrities, and others of questionable repute. I’m your host, the honorable Tyrone Monday. The show’s producer is my brother CEO. We come to you live from the #eastside of Ebony Junction, comfortably posted in the colored section. Tonight’s sponsor is Big Brenda’s House of Ribs, home of the famous Big Brenda’s Rib Sammich. This week’s specials are a 2-for-1 rib platter from Monday – Thursday and two complementary "Saturday Spiked Kool-Aid" drinks with orders of $25 or more (Saturday after 6, 21 and over). Salute to Brenda and the good folk down there at Big Brenda’s. I’ll be through shortly, you heard?
 
KENNY & THE TWO LIGHT-SKINS
 
Before I get into it, I’d like to clearly state who I’m with on this one. I’m riding with the one who gave me “Sing About Me.” I’m riding with the one from the trenches. I’m riding with the one with the Pulitzer. Let me make one thing clear; I am a fan of all three. I have most of their material. All three have extensive accolades. But a few things need to be said about this situation. I’m the one to tell it like it is. And I plan to.
 
Drake has dominated Billboard. I didn’t take the time to look at the numbers because I don’t give a fuck about the numbers. They don’t overwhelmingly impact my view of an artist. There have been plenty of multiplatinum trash artists. But still...I do pay attention to sales. Word salad aside, throw sales out the damn window in this situation, solely because all three men are platinum plus plenty of times over. I want to talk about talent. I want to talk about material. I want to talk about impact. And I plan to.
 
Preference plays a huge role in this debate overall, material included. Which do you value more highly: hits (HITS!) or impactful bodies of work? If it’s hits, Drake is the man. Easily. Like I said, I’m not using data today. I don’t need to. There isn’t an artist on the planet in the past decade-plus who can match Drake with hit for hit. And when I say hits, I mean...ok. you get the point. But I’m going to say (write) it again anyway – HITS! Drizzy wins. Ain’t no bout a doubt it.
 
 
 
I respect hits. I’d be some type of idiot if I didn’t. But hits can also be a fickle topic. I’m not talking about Billboard. Those numbers don’t lie. I’m talmbout fickle in the minds of fans, long term perspective. Plenty of songs are the shit in the moment, but when they’re spoken about and/or played years later, they border upon corny or cringe. I’ll spare artists the shame of a call-out. I won’t give any examples. My only justification for the fickle part is that I (personally) feel that way about hit(s). I love damn near [if not] all Drizzy’s hits. But I value overall material more than hits. Where I have Drake running away with the hits part of this discourse, he’s at the back of the line when it comes to impactful bodies of work. I don’t feel that any of his albums are classics. NWTS came closest IMO. Damn near all his efforts have been solid, but most of the recent albums have been obvious in their catering to whatever the new “sound” is. Drake has long had a reputation for swag surfin (I think I used that term correctly). Also, Drake’s albums are more like a collection of singles with breakout hits, lacking the cohesiveness of the traditional definition of an album. There’s not a lot of discernable cohesion in Drake’s recent works. GKMC is an album. 2014 Forest Hills Drive is an album. DAMN. is an album. Born Sinner is an album. To Pimp a Butterfly is an album. Get the point? BTW – all the albums I mentioned are classic albums. Drake fans get livid when the “classic” term is introduced to the discussion. Sorry, y’all. Drizzy’s lone classic is So Far Gone, which is technically a mixtape and not a studio release. I’d love to tap in with my bro Armon Sadler and ask his opinion. He’s a preeminent voice in the culture.
 
Ok. We’ve gotten the hits and bodies of work arguments out of the way. The last category is impact. I would love to try and sell you some horse shit about why either of these three are more impactful than the others. I’d be wasting mine and your time. Let me continue by mentioning that they’re referred to as The Big 3. I cannot and won’t try to quantify who wins gold, silver, or bronze. Instead, I’ll take a different approach. Drake is the king of the charts. He’s an international sex symbol. He’s a titan. Kendrick is the west coast parallel to that tree that grew in Brooklyn. He’s that lone star that shone from the darkness of urban inner-city decay. He’s the Piru who changed my outlook on life with one song. He’s the ultimate example of an entire village raising a child, from his parents to aunties/uncles/grandparents to the ball coaches to the junkies to the dope dealers to the gang bangers. Oh, you didn’t know? No one said the village had to be full of scholars and overachievers. I know this personally. Some of my best advice came from dope fiends and bank robbers. Jermaine is the golden child in the lineage of the Native Tongues and their best artist(s) A Tribe Called Quest (my favorite group and the ones who made me fall in love with hip hop). He was a regular kid with a crooked smile, good grades, and a decent jump shot. He didn’t move work. He didn’t carry Teks. He rhymed. He never promoted anything other than the fact that he was a regular kid from a single-parent household (and his strong desire to cheat on his queen) . That’s why we love him the way we do. He was authentic from day one and remains authentic to this day, just like Kenny.
 
HERE'S MONDAY’S BLUNT TAKE:
 
As much as I fux with Drake, I cannot excuse the fact that he was introduced to us as a wide alien-nosed, funny-looking, square mulatto from that Canadian show about horrible adolescents in a way too liberal public high school. He spoke like a geek and dressed like a nigga straight out of TJ Maxx. He threw in the southern drawl, and we allowed it, because we found out that his uncle is Larry Graham. If you don’t know who Larry Graham is, you don’t know music. But one thing that alien-looking MF could always do is spit. I don’t care if you’re square, as long as you don’t play the studio gangster type. Aubrey didn’t. He played a cool kid who spit heavy on EVERYTHING he touched and set the rap world on fire. But, as he continued to mature in the rap game and culture, he moved toward the tough guy persona in between being a lover and University of Kentucky meat glazer. We laughed it off. Not my nigga Aubrey. Not Wheelchair Jimmy. Oh, Aubrey. But now I’m hearing talk about switches in his bars. For those of you who live in Candyland, he’s not referring to hydraulics in a low-low or that carefully chosen branch(es) (Mary Warren would braid hers from time to time) that your nana used to whoop your monkey ass. Switches are small pieces that can be attached to semi automatic pistols to make them fully automatic. A Glock + a switch + a 50-round drum can turn your block into a horrible Call of Duty match. Why is Aubrey, son to a white Jewish woman who is still alive and well, speaking about switches in his raps? It’s that fame, mane. Y’all let that corny shit slide so long that his square ass is comfortable writing rhymes about firing illegally modified automatic weapons in a serious manner. But hey...art imitates life, right? And there are millions of square niggas who never had a fist fight (and damn sure never fired weapons at opps) yet feel empowered because the square became the coolest MF at the cool table...let y’all tell it.
 
I heard all the disses, and I’m going all the way back to Kendricks’ “Control” a decade ago to “First Person Shooter” by Drizzy and Jermaine to Kendrick’s verse on “Like That” to Jermaine’s “7 Minute Drill” to Drake’s “Drop and Give Me 50.” Each and every last one of those tracks are FIRE!!! I love the spirit of the moment. Ain’t none of these niggas finna do anything. The only one with a past that suggests that he would hop out the minivan with a mini-.223 with the homie 2-2 and two more YGs (IYKYK) has been on a journey to being a better human being since good kid, m.A.A.d city. Should he happen to slide, I know that he's the only one who can rest on a flag without having to pay outsiders for help. For the record, I don’t have a problem with Jermaine apologizing for his verse on “7MD.” His reasoning made perfect sense to me. Protect your peace, Jermaine. But damn, you talked very greasy on that track. I guess you’re a shooter too – if they push you. You’re not on trial, my nigga. I’m not judging you. In fact, I relate to you more than the other two, all the way down to the apology. Like I said, protect your peace, my nigga. I’m still riding with you.
 
Matter of fact, I’m still riding with all three. Why would I forsake either of these brilliant MCs? Keep making amazing music, men. As long as you do, I’m going to keep listening.
 
Y’all know where the fuck to @ us.