#MNR: A.I. (ANONYMOUS IDIOTS, ABSENCE OF INTELLIGENCE)

#MNR: A.I. (ANONYMOUS IDIOTS, ABSENCE of INTELLIGENCE)
 
“Try to put me in a box, I’m in the box office.”
French Montana
 
“This love that I have for you, it’ll never change.”
Aaliyah
 
“Or could it be that she’s the one I was supposed to be with? And together walk this twisted – staircase to something realistic.”
(Universal) Black Thought
 
“I speak in codes man, tú sabe? Always caya te. Bendición to my madre. Even though she never did nothing for me, acknowledge me, as I run down my life story.”
Black Rob
 
LONG LIVE BLACK ROB. IT’S A JEFF THING.
 
Nights like this I wish...that raindrops would fall.
 
Stop it. I’m not referring to the scene when Eddie Kane Jr. was fiend-out after the show. I’m referring to the scene when they performed it in concert and Eddie slow walked that thang. And right after, Duck, Choirboy, dem go straight into the hook. The ladies in the crowd went absolutely ape nuts. They shut that bitch down that night. They killed that shit. That’s some beautiful shit. Nah. That’s some legendary shit. Beautiful, legendary shit. The “shit” I’m referring to is a scene from the Negro classic picture The Five Heartbeats.
 
(in a seamless transition)
It's your boy Ty Monday, also known as Eddie Kane III, formerly and always known as Ty Nitty, formerly known as the Fly Gordo, and uniquely known as Baby T to my Auntie Cynthia. My brain is going 115 kph (one one five) and in hexagonal directions. We’re all over the place tonight, y’all. But, as always, I’m upstairs with it. Sit back. Get your aromatics ready. Matter fact, let’s pause for a moment while I take this bong rip. Brb.
 
I’m back. And I took two rips. Them shits were punching like a Sugar Ray flurry to end a round. You know, the sweet science. Big ups to my plug. He bring dem thangs, he bring dem thangs. Like I said, we’re all over the place yet on point as usual. I hope y’all had an amazing weekend, even if amazing meant binge-watching your favorite newfound program whilst feasting like royalty and smoking the stickiest of the ickiest – all whilst in your skivvies. Me? I had a good weekend. I don’t do much, but I do exactly what the fuck I want to do. That means it’s always good. I’m blessed. I have no complaints, you heard? Good. Let’s get it.
 
RANDOM: “Sharane” by Mic Geronimo is [in the] top five most brilliant rap songs I’ve ever heard. It was 100% original, 100% fly, and Irv Gotti’s hoe ass 100% murdered that beat. Go listen to it immechiately. Expand your musical palette, you trout-mouth heathen.
 
The only A.I. I respect is Allen Ezail Iverson. I don’t need a soulless tech program to interpret and disseminate my thoughts. With each passing day I feel like the movie Wall-E was eerily prophetic. But instead of a planet of fat asses, a planet full of empty minds seems hauntingly on the horizon (plenty of whom will certainly be fat asses). I did the knowledge the other day after watching an ad in which A.I. was being used to write product descriptions for websites. I (mentally) revisited the era of the catalogue when that was the job of a human or a team of humans. It sucks to see that another job that involves writing is relegated to being nothing but a relic in this digital world. I don’t fuck with any type of A.I. that isn’t video game based. I’d rather take a Peter Pan dive off the Edge in Hudson Yards before I capitulate to letting a program speak for me. I take pride in being blessed with the applied knowledge to eloquently communicate what I see, hear, and feel. I’m going to continue to yell my loud-ass truth through my gapped-teeth (until we get the porcelains) and through my blog. I don’t need your fucking program. I would and will never allow technology to think for me. Technology is devoid of soul. I am pure soul.
 
 
 
I got to light a J for this one. Y’all hold on right quick.
 
(exhales smoke)
 
I saw the footages of how y’all did my sister Sonya Massey. There’s always something, right? This time it was a damn pot of water. And all the other times? How about lethally subduing a man by placing a knee on his neck for almost ten minutes over a SUSPECTED NON-VIOLENT $20 offense? How about getting choked to death for selling loose fucking cigarettes on the island of Shaolin? How about claiming that you (a pig) thought a 12-year-old Black baby with an obvious toy gun was a 20-year-old man (Tamir’s case will always haunt me – rest up little bro)? How about the fact that I DIDN’T EVEN HAVE TO DO A FUCKING GOOGLE SEARCH TO ACCURATELY RECALL THESE TRAGEDIES? All those names, assassinations, and stories are still fresh in the front of my damn mind. I can keep going. There’s Freddie Gray. There’s Michael Brown. There’s my baby girl Breonna Taylor. What the fuck else do I need to say? And this cheesy fuckboy is teasing a plan for federal absolute immunity for pigs if he’s reelected? We must be living in the MF Matrix. This can’t be life.
 
REST UP, SONYA. CONDOLENCES TO HER FAMILY AND LOVED ONES.
 
“Fuck ‘em. Can’t find peace on the streets ‘til the niggas get a piece, fuck police.”
Makaveli the Don
 
I have a very, very, very, very, very, very special cache of FUCK YOUs for every single police department from ‘Frisco to Maine and everywhere in between. There are about seven or eight police on earth that I fuck with, and one of them is Detective Lester Freeman from The Wire. Big ups to my brother Devin. Peace to Chatman and Cook.
 
All I have for you, for me, for us is this...the last shall be first. Just keep holding on.
 
Vice President Kamala Harris, I have talked about you like a – I refuse to disrespect canines. I think you get the point. My association with you prior to being a United States Senator was being responsible for putting a whole lot of brothers in those Level 5 prisons for football numbers as a ‘Frisco District Attorney. I know you ascended to becoming state Attorney General and continued to stick it to my folk. I have every right to say fuck you for that, and I do. I’m not completely ignorant. I know that plenty of my brothers deserved their punishments. My gripe is with the lengths of the sentences of too many young Black men who come from nothing, didn’t take a life, and deserve another chance at life. It is what it is on that note; I suppose we’re at odds until we’re even. But when it comes to King MAGAt...I can’t let that sockcucker get away with it. And by “it” I mean ALL of it. You may have the reputation of locking niggas up for numbers you need a scientific calculator to decipher, but that doesn’t put you on the wrong side of [the] law. The other MF is a 34-time convicted felon. The choice is simple. I will definitely endorse the attorney over the felon. Let’s see what the last hunna days have in store. This Democratic Convention should be as interesting as a family member coming out of the closet on a Thanksgiving evening. So long as I’m breathing, I’ll be tuned in, hating as usual. Let’s get it.
 
I’m as hungry as a runaway slave. I think it’s time to shake a leg and get up in the wind, sugar. Salute to all the real ones who support this blog on a weekly basis. Y’all actually check for a nigga and have an attitude if I don’t send the link. I think it’s absolutely fly that I can connect with you all in that way. You guys are the reason this blog continues to press on. And to think, a couple of you amazing humans have been with me since the iamdjgreen.com era. My, how things have changed in 15 or so years (IYKYK). But one thing that hasn’t is the fact that I’m still blessed to have a platform to speak my truth and an audience that receives it in love. For that reason alone, I am a wealthy man. I’m a see y’all soon, unless you see me first.
 
LONG LIVE POP HEMMINGS. YOU ARE FOREVER IN MY HEART.