“Miss Aphrodite, what is your synopsis? You can be the goddess of my white castle. Reach me on the hotline and burn your nostrils.”
Weezy F. Baby
Congratulations to my beloved Eagles of Philadelphia, PA. We are headed to our fourth Super Bowl (LVII). After disappointing losses in our first two appearances, we look to win our second title following our serendipitous run in 2017 that culminated in our first trophy. We’re set to face the Kansas City Chiefs, whose coach is our former coach, Andy Reid. I usually root for the Fatman, as he is still beloved in my heart. There shall be no love two Sundays from now. My pick: I’ll tell y’all next week...but Eagles will be flying.
Video game soundtracks have been around since the early 1980s. For the longest time, these soundtracks were mostly 8-bit instrumentals specifically crafted for the games, usually appearing within the game. At some point, the video game soundtrack evolved, just as games evolved. The early 2000s saw game soundtracks feature songs that were far more than cheesy instrumentals; they were actual songs by major recording artists. Ever since the legend Jason Kidd graced the cover of NBA Live 2003, I’ve been in love with video game soundtracks. Ironically, Live 2003 is the first video game soundtrack IN HISTORY to be certified platinum by the RIAA, selling over 1.3 million copies. The song that forever hooked me was “Young & Sexy” by Lyric featuring Harlem’s own Loon. All tree (Birdman voice) of those ladies were sexy AF. My guy Loon came through with a hot eight on the intro and finished the track with another fire 16. “Young, sexy, material and free. But I’ll change for you. You know I’ll change for you.” The song was a perfect period piece: a trio of beautiful and talented vocalists, a hot Bad Boy artist on the feature and a bouncy beat. That song was so 2003 and was a perfect selection for a star-studded soundtrack that included tracks from Fabolous, Snoop, Joe Budden (yes, that Joe Budden for those who only know him as a podcaster), Busta Buss and Flipmode Squad, Just Blaze feat. Memphis Bleek and Freeway, Brandy feat. Fat Joe and Monica feat. Jermaine Dupri.
There have been plenty of video game soundtracks to make waves in both the video game and music worlds, but (IMO) no entity has blended the two as seamlessly as the Grand Theft Auto series. The genius in their soundtracks is that they generally match the period in which the game virtually exists. Vice City was set in the 1980s so its soundtrack is an 80s soundtrack, as it wouldn’t make sense to have a period piece game full of anachronisms. The soundtrack was EPIC and set the stage for GTA V. V continued the tradition of diverse channels that one can listen to while riding around the map, though its diversity of listening channels allowed for music from different eras to exist on the game. When I first began playing the online version, there were plenty of times I’d roll up something sweet (IRL), jump in one of my rides and ride from Los Santos into Blaine County, usually all the way to Paleto Bay. It was my virtual “L ride.” It was a stress reliever that helped to take the “edge” off. Big ups to all the great video game soundtracks that have individually carved an indelible niche into gaming culture.
The world of Florida and its bigoted, xenophobic autocrat of a Governor Ron DeSantis have again made waves in the culture wars that have further stoked division in our society. In his latest political stunt, DeSantis has banned African American Studies from being offered as an Advanced Placement course. For the unlearned, Advanced Placement (AP) courses are the toughest academic courses American high school education has to offer. I am a veteran of the rigors of AP classes, including AP History. Every student in an AP class is there by choice and wants to learn all they can. AP students are socially and academically mature enough to handle the material, even though contextual history isn’t always the easiest material to digest. Good ole Gov. DeSantis made the decision for the students, citing his objections to what he deemed as filler in the curriculum, or “left-wing ideology.” He sees Black Queer Studies, Intersectionality, Movement for Black Lives, Black Feminist Literary Thought, The Reparations Movement and Black Struggle in the 21st Century teaching as part of woke culture, and feels it has no place in the course. History is history, and DeSantis, an Ivy League graduate, knows this. He also knows that fanning the flames of anti-wokeism is always a win for him and his ultra-conservative base. I don’t need to do a lot of bloviating about the subject. DeSantis is many things, but he’s no dummy. He has his eyes on the White House in a couple of years, and he’s doing things that appease his “fan base” while also testing the waters on what the masses will allow. I have no idea how this will work for his 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue aspirations, but we already know that his actions are welcomed by many. DeSantis has been very methodical. This is another move of a chess piece. Will it all culminate in an election win? Only time will tell. For now, DeSantis is staking his claim to be the King of Polarization. Stay woke (pun intended).
The death of Tyre Nichols is especially disturbing. Police Brutality is nothing new to Black folk. The police treat us as the enemy, and we don’t fuck with them at all. We absolutely share a disdain for many Black cops, who are often more brutal and vicious than their white counterparts. I’ve said it a thousand times – I don’t fuck with police. But I respect good police. I have no problem with police doing their jobs. A society without law enforcement would soon give way to anarchy. But when I see and/or read about atrocities like what happened to Mr. Nichols, I tend to want to take my chances in a police-free world. It hurts to see a handcuffed man beaten mercilessly...beaten to death. The fact that the officers were Black means nothing to me. It’s the shield that breeds corruption. I do wonder if they would’ve beaten a white man to death in the same fashion. I seriously doubt it. There has been an abundance of rumors circulating regarding the circumstances leading to Tyre’s execution, but I won’t go there. I’m a journalist. Hearsay cannot be repeated. If it isn’t vetted, I’m not mentioning it, but I will say this: if one particular rumor is proven to be true, the charge for the main pig should be upgraded to first degree murder. Circumstance won’t bring Tyre back, but I pray that this wasn’t over a female. My prayers are with Tyre’s family.
Holla at the CEO @themisterceizzo on social media for the latest exclusive UnB merch. We keep a few elite pieces in the stash. Holla at the good brother for a piece to go with your new J’s or Crocs. Stay fresh. I was just joking about the Crocs. We all own at least one pair, but don’t go matching up outfits to go with them. That’s a bit excessive.
Happy trails to you, until we meet again.
tymonday.com: @tymonday on Twitter & IG
crewunb.com: @crewunB on Twitter & @theunbearablescrew on IG
Be sure to check out our folks over at "HOPE SOMEBODY'S RECORDING THIS PODCAST" videos available on YouTube.
#MNR: MR. N-WORD
“Never let a wishbone grow where a backbone should.”
Perhaps it’s just me, but I’ve seen plenty of ass whoopings this past week on my Twitter TL. I’m no authority in the field, although I’ve had my fair share of decisive victories 1v1. I’ve also taken an L or two, but my career winning percentage is HOF worthy. I could be lying with the HOF speculation, but damn it, it’s my blog and I’m free to embellish if I choose to.
Anyway...irrespective of my Hall of Fame worthiness, I am very opinionated when it comes to determining the worthiness of an ass whooping. I would like to start by saying that getting jumped/banked/etc. is part of the game if you tend to enjoy fighting. The consensus is that a “real” one should never seek help when looking to engage in hand-to-hand combat. Man, fuck all that honorable shit. I’m from uptown NYC and the back roads of the Hali. That’s filthy B-staircases and dirt roads, the perfect blend of grimy and dirty. In the words of my O.G. D. Maull, “the only fair fight is the one I won.” Translation: I’m getting the dub, fuck the rules. Ok. Now that we’ve established fighting equity and integrity (or the lack thereof), we shall now identify four circumstances in which an ass whooping is ALWAYS valid: putting hands on women, putting hands on children, putting hands on the elderly and bothering folk who were previously minding their damn business. The first three reasons don’t even need to be discussed in-depth. Keep your MF hands off women, children and the elderly, or risk getting hands and feet put on you. The last reason usually garners more debate than the first three, which are cut and dry examples. I don’t see much debate in it – leave me [you, whomever] the fuck alone. Others tend to disagree.
There’s footage online of an altercation on an NYC MTA train between two patrons seated beside one another, a Hispanic and a Black male. The brother is minding his business when the Hispanic gentleman stands up and over him, which is ALWAYS an act of aggression. They exchange words for a bit. The brother asks the gentleman to calm down and take it easy. The Hispanic gentleman continues to talk aggressively as he ignores the brother and begins to pull out a pair of children’s scissors (yeah, I don’t know why, either). The brother stands up, faces the Hispanic guy and proceeds to throw a vicious right jab (possibly a 2-piece) that sends the Hispanic man’s head back into the glass-encased ad display above the seat he was sitting in. The punch(es) and subsequent back of the head contact with the display immediately rendered the Hispanic man unconscious. He sank back into the seat and passed out into the lap of the gentleman sitting next to where the brother was previously seated. The seated gentleman’s reward was blood on his right coat sleeve, courtesy of a massive nosebleed. The footage ends shortly thereafter.
The beauty and ugliness of a Twitter debate is that no matter what, there will always be those who take the minority opinion, meaning they disagree with damn near everyone else. People commented that it wasn’t that serious. They said that the brother could have diffused the situation and avoided violence. Others mentioned that context was lacking, and we don’t know exactly what caused tension between the two. In all fairness, this is a plausible point of argument. We don’t know the totality of what led the brother to react in the way he did. But this is where insight and inference are vital. All of us who are from NYC as well as those who are familiar with the subway know how hectic it can get on those platforms and trains. Mental health is at a breaking point in the city. Subway crime is the highest it’s been since the ‘80s. Commuters don’t know if a MF is serious or joking. Underestimations could easily end in calamity. Some of us live by the wish creed (IYKYK). We aren’t going to wait to find out if your plan is sinister. We’re going to be proactive because being reactive could cost us our lives.
I stand with the brother. Shit, I stood with Bernard Goetz. For those who don’t know, Goetz was an NYC subway commuter who shot a couple of Black kids on the train who threatened to rob him in the ‘80s. He’d previously been robbed on the train, and vowed he’d never be a victim again. He began to carry a .38 pistol. Those kids fucked around and found out that day. Fuck race. I stand with my folk but wrong is wrong. They were looking for a victim and ended up becoming victims. I especially detest the tree huggers who claim that Goetz, the brother on the train and whomever else who reacted with violence when under duress on the train were wrong in their actions. I will never fault someone who ensures self-preservation (under these circumstances). There are consequences for fuckery. I don’t give a Boeing 747 flying fuck if you bleed out and die on a train or platform. You bothered and/or assaulted folk who were simply trying to get to or from work or school, folk who were minding their business. I haven’t a shred of compassion for people who prey on others. If he dies, he dies. Fuck ‘em.
When I was trapped in that hospital room three years ago, I had nothing but time. Time to think. Time to atone. Time to strategize. But damn it, that shit did not add up to the 13-16 or so hours that I was awake over the two weeks I was a patient. Leisure was necessitous. I’m thankful for my iPhone whatever I had at the time; those apps (Netflix, Hulu) held me down. But even then, there were times when the hospital-provided cable was a needed go-to. I’m certain most of you healthy, beautiful souls haven’t spent extensive time in a medical facility so you might not know this one thing: hospital cable is super ass. Well, Englewood Hospital cable is super ass. I’m talmbout ESPN2 but no ESPN. MTV2 but no MTV. I can’t remember exactly which channel, but the hospital cable also lacked one of the major four networks. ARE YOU EFFING SERIOUS? It was like being slowly tortured in a non-painful yet painful way. AND the NFL playoffs were in full swing. I definitely missed a playoff game (is there a pissed off emoji?) But, in the spirit of endurance that I’ve been blessed with, I found refuge in an unlikely place: Catfished on MTV2. They had a block of scheduling dedicated to the show. I watched all types of MF get catfished: ugly MF, pretty MF, dumb MF, and dumber MF. Bear in mind that the show had been running for a few seasons by 2020. In this era of the smartphone, I maintained incredulity. Ain’t no damn way. How, in 2020, can a MF be catfished? Smmfh. Fast forward to...yesterday.
I’m at the day job perusing social media (like how I usually do) and I keep seeing tweets about battle rappers getting catfished by a “fan.” The fan’s name is Sasha...I guess. I heard another name as well, but I’m certain her name is Sasha. Anyway, Sasha woke up and chose revenge. She was in a Twitter Space airing all types of laundry. She talked about battle rap culture representatives (battle rappers and at least one well-known blogger) sending her money, engaging in non-FT phone sex and sending all types of dick pics. In turn, she gave them a fake pic of a girl who I think she said was her friend. The girl was chubby. So is Sasha. I have no problems at all with chubby women, but that’s because I’m a philanthropist. I never had a particular body type, either. I preferred my Nubian queens, but I had my Hispanic phase, and I didn’t turn down the occasional snow bunny. But the battle rap committee will have you believe that if she isn’t MyVerse (IYKYK), she’s trash. We all knew that was cap, yet confirmation is always quite humorous. Sasha was in the Space unabashed and impervious to ridicule. She shifted the focus to these thirsty battle rappers. Did I mention she [allegedly] has receipts? Sasha mentioned a few names; I won't (do your own research if you’re pressed to know). But her revelations revealed a couple things. The first and obvious thing is that battle rappers are no different than any other thirst bucket outchea simping for a nut. The second is that you MF have obviously never seen’t Catfished. Let’s revisit the ubiquity of the smartphone. How in the fuck would you participate in any type of salacious activity without first vetting the partner? Y’all didn’t FT the woman to make sure she was a) a woman and b) that she was who she claimed to be? Y’all dead could have been having phone sex with another man. And, in a culture birthed in extreme male toxicity, that may be enough for one or more of you thirsty niggas to skydive off the George Washington Bridge in shame. Is Sasha guilty of revenge porn, having committed acts that, if a man committed them, would very likely get his ass “cancelled” by popular culture AND the battle rap community? Factsolutely. But we all know of the blatant double standards that exist BOTH WAYS in the culture. I’m not making this a forum on that; I’m merely stating the obvious. I’m not faulting y’all for being thirsty. I’ve been there. I, however, cannot excuse sending bread to a MF you’ve never even met. That’s non-cipher, pun and double entendre intended. At the end of the day, y’all just proved that the battle rap community has dummies of all types. This is just the latest head-shaking incident. I’m sure there will be more to come.
tymonday.com: @tymonday on Twitter & IG
crewunb.com: @crewunB on Twitter & @theunbearablescrew on IG
So I was supposed to put this out earlier in the week, but you know time being what it is and all... so I guess you can surmise that it's neither Monday nor am I Monday. Looks like we're in for a bit of random thoughts from the C.E.O, meh it's been a while since I contributed, let's knock a few cobwebs lose.
\nFirst of all much love and appreciation to everyone of y'all who regularly support the Crew by reading the weekly blog from @tymonday aptly titled #MNR where he's been educating the readers in subjects that range anywhere from politics and world events to battle rap to the latest album release, if the artist or event deserves his words. He's been holding us down, making sure the people know we're more than just some dudes selling merch. BTW you can definitely cop #MNR themed merchandise on the site. Ijs
\nThe crew continues to be the crew, the site is active and available for orders, slide on through and cop a few pieces.
\n2023 means being more in my opinion. Being better than previous years, doing more than previous years, overall just being better than previous years. Yeah that seems just broad enough to blanket a ton of goals and shit right? While giving yourself a little space for improvement as you go along.
\nI'm pretty sure we're still in that period of the year when people are trying to live up to some unrealistic promise they made; like breaking a 20 year habit in a single weekend. I'm quitting cigarettes, well cigarette alternatives for like the 3rd time, shits rough man, been receiving a steady stream of nicotine since before I even touched my first blunt. Don't get me wrong I LOVE REEFER, but if I decided I wanted to stop or quit for a while I'm pretty sure it would be easier than these nicotine cravings I have... fuckin peer pressure man. I'm one of those late 90s early 00s who picked up a lifelong habit thanks to friends.. thanks guys.\n
I watched "House Party" (2023), y'all MFers gonna stop letting LeBron take liberties with our nostalgia films bruh. At least Kid N Play were in it, kinda. (Side eye emoji)\n
Both my grandmother's died last year. Hits different if they've died after your parents, been sad and shut, but ya know life keeps on keeping on.\n
Shout out to the good brother J.I.D and the song "Kody Blue 31" off of The Forever Story EP, really helped get through the worst parts.
\nWelcome back Ab-Soul! Album is great and I've been enjoying catching you in interviews. Bruh, you don't have to say it was Juul that made you have the mental breakdown, that's the latest nicotine monkey I'm trying to get off my back, but as you know we "gotta do better"\n
Y'all listen to podcasts? Check out "Hope Somebody's Recording This Podcast " another part of the Crew's expansion. Just an after work kick back situation, most of the time it's pop culture, most of the time the guys are pretty lit and most of the time you'll get some good laughs out if it, it's even a little educational at time
Working overnights is for the birds. Unless you're just that type of person, which is fine, I just feel like that type of person usually wears all black ups and a leather fitted, I'm not trying to become that person .
BT dubs, if you’re paying for a blue check on Twitter, you’re a lame.
That it all. Until the next time the stream meets the blog.
#MNR: NEW YEAR, SAME SHIT
“Get paid, never caught in a raid. You get sprayed, prayed over, and laid down, pump with the pound.”
Hussein Fatal (RIP)
Blessed New Year to all.
I don’t know about y’all, but I’m always intrigued by my dreams, and for diverse reasons. The first reason I’m so intrigued is because I was robbed of my dreams for years, with sleep apnea being the culprit. People who suffer from sleep apnea rarely reach REM sleep, the time when most dreaming occurs. Cool. My sleep apnea is under control; I sleep with a CPAP every night (unless I’m staying in the Creek). Problem solved...sort of. I sleep well every night. I know this because I feel good and refreshed every morning and my Apple Watch tells me I do. I’m thankful. And yes, I dream again. Unfortunately, my second point of intrigue is that when I do dream, I usually forget my dreams when I wake up. However, I do remember my dreams from time-to-time, and they almost always end up with me running for my life to escape from Highbridge, West #BXNYC. For reference, I lived on 170th St. and Jesup Avenue for years. I got plenty of money in those Highbridge streets. I never had direct drama, but it was brought to my attention that some of the Right (IYKYK) from the block objected to my innate ability to get to the money. Luckily, I forged strategic bonds, one of them being with the OG of the set. Unless you’re a square, you know that meant that I was untouchable. But back to the dreams. I always manage to flee, but barely. Last night was no different. I barely escaped. Luckily, there was no geriatric women’s parade on Edward L. Grant Highway (University Avenue) to hinder my route (I may need to see a shrink). I’m not certain as to why my dreams always involve trying to flee Highbridge, but they do. Last night was no different. I also had another dream last night. No further comment.
Big ups to all the real Rights outside in NYC. My folk rock to the Left, but the Right influence in NYC culture is indelible. All of us civilians who were outside in the late ‘90s/early 2000s know what it was like. They were superfluous. On the surface, it doesn’t seem like their numbers make NYC gang culture disproportionate anymore, but they’re still around (heavy). I’m not glorifying the culture; I’m merely giving respect to the real.
RANDOM: It’s scary when you tally all the Saban-coached Alabama Crimson Tide alumni CURRENTLY in the NFL. Saban is easily the GOAT of College Football coaches. Having said that, Kirby Smart seems to be doing his best to catch up in short fashion. 65-7? Wow. I will never root for a university from the deep south but much respect to Georgia and their back-to-back National Championships. Herschel who?
If you haven’t noticed, Elon has removed all types of regulation from Twitter. There are no more warnings that a tweet may be disturbing, racist, xenophobic, or outright misinformation, to name a few. I’m not arguing from a first amendment standpoint; I stand with free speech. But lies and mistruths are not protected by the Constitution. Twitter is allowing “information” to be posted that hasn’t been vetted. That is a very dangerous game to play, and its consequences can be deadly. I can’t put the blame of ignorance on the youth because I (on average) see a lot more grown ass adult ignorance on my TL. I include 25 and under as youth, and before you ask, I follow plenty of young adults. Most were old students. But I keep a finger on the pulse of Twitter, and I do not like what it’s giving. On a personal note, I swear I feel like deleting the app at least twice a month. In addition to the aforementioned fuckery, I’m tired of the trolls and keyboard killers. I’m not mad at what they tweet, I’m mad because I’m 100% sure they’re super pussy IRL. I’m not pussy in any life. But there’s no sense in getting all worked up over virtual beef with an anonymous dickhead. I, we all have the power to log off. I remain [mostly] because of nostalgia. I love what Twitter once was as an app and what it meant to me when my mom was sick, and my life was in turmoil. There were plenty of nights when I’d just disperse my depressed thoughts into the universe, not even expecting a reply. It made me feel better when I’d receive a mention of encouragement or out of empathy. It let me know I wasn’t alone. Twitter therapy may sound silly, but I was suffering through bouts of depression and fear of losing the most important person in my life. I needed Twitter therapy. I used it and flowers to self-medicate. It got me through. I also continue to cherish interaction with my loved ones and the Englewood community. I interact with a lot of my 07631 folk. We keep one another in the loop on all types of shit, from mundane to comedically hysterical to pertinent. We are a true community. Twitter has also been vital to promotion/marketing when I release literature. I guess I’ll remain one foot in, one foot out.
Politicians lie. This is a well-known fact. But, for the most part, their lies are usually linked to policy via unfulfilled promises. The lies don’t usually spill into the basics – you know – your ethnicity, where you went to university, where you work – those sorts of things. Well folks, the levies have been breached. George Santos, the newly elected House Representative from NY’s 3rd congressional district (northeast Queens and northern Nassau County on Long Island), has lied about damn near everything a competent human could lie about. You name it, he’s lied about it: His ethnicity (he claimed to be Jew-ish), his education, the death of his mother, employment history, establishing a charity, residence, having a cancerous brain tumor, and whether fat meat is greasy when it cooks. And if that weren’t enough...this motherfucker is a fugitive in his native country Brazil. The bastard stole checks from a man his mother was caring for (ultimate POS behavior), forged said checks to purchase about $700 worth of clothing. He confessed to Brazilian police in 2010, but never responded to a 2013 court summons. He’s also under scrutiny for campaign finance ethics. This guy is the ultimate fraud, and people from his own party at various levels of government have called for him to resign. Santos has repeatedly stated he has no intentions of resigning. Most of his congressional peers (including Kevin McImpotent) have chosen to ignore the Santos fiasco or deflect and counter argue that Dems are equal or greater liars. America, the beautiful...
That’s all for now, fuckers. The next #MNR will be courtesy of the CEO of Crew UnB. Tune in. Also, tune in to the HSRT podcast on YouTube. Those brothers discuss current events and talk a little bit of shit in between. It’s excellent smoke session material.
The word is that the block is hot in Englewood. A young kid took a shot to the abdomen and tensions are high. Y’all be safe out there.
tymonday.com: @tymonday on Twitter & IG
crewunb.com: @crewunB on Twitter & @theunbearablescrew on IG