#MNR: SGT MONDAY'S LONELY HEARTS CLUB BAND

#MNR: SGT MONDAY’S LONELY HEARTS CLUB BAND
 
“Said I left my mojo...left my mojo in my favorite suit.”
D’Angelo
 
“I get by with a little help from my friends. I get high with a little help from my friends. I’m gonna try with a little help from my friends.”
The Beatles
 
We’re Sgt Monday’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. We hope you will enjoy the show.
 
Off the jump ball, big ups to my second cousin Ursherr (Usher) Raymond and his brilliant Super Show Halftime Show performance. Big ups for bringing two of my best tenders along for the performance, my first baby mama Alicia 88 Keys and my newest tender, H.E.R. My boy sang live and bust all his famous dance moves. He definitely freaked it in skates. Salute to the punk ass NFL for putting a real one from my era on the halftime show. I knew won’t no way in hell my favorite Ursherr song was going to be performed during the show, so I’m going to shout out “Seduction” just ‘cause. That’s my shit.
 
Big ups to Fat Andy for his third Super Bowl ring. It’s been a good minute since an NFL team went back-to-back. Reid is my favorite Eagles coach ever; I’ll always big up my guy. Patrick Mahomes is officially the baby GOAT. Three ‘ships at 28 is crazy. Magic/Jeter/Brady type shit. Congratulations to the Chiefs. Fly Eagles Fly!
 
Kobe/Yogi/Russell type shit. Bossy/Jackson/Messi type shit. RIP to Bill Russell, Lawrence Peter Berra and Mike Bossy. My hockey enthusiasts know who Mike Bossy was. The Jackson is Reginald Martinez. There is only one Reggie. And there was certainly only one Yogi.
 
Tell me an album is iconic without telling me it’s iconic. Bet. You don’t listen to the album until you’re into your 40s, but when you do, you realize that throughout your life you’ve heard lyrics and melodies from several songs off the album in advertising and sampled in music from other genres.
 
I feel that Season 3 of Raising Kanan is the best of the series thus far. For full context, I don’t watch anything else in the Power universe. I only watch Que’s boy (IYKYK). I had an immediate affinity for Raising Kanan because 1992 was my freshman year of high school. It’s the clothes, the music, the culture. It was the time when I began to figure out who I am. I like the writing. The characters are well-developed and show layers. Everything revolves around Kanan. We see where his cold nature comes from; Raquel is a southside Jamaica, Queens monster. These three seasons have shown Kanan’s descent into the southside underworld. Jukebox is easily my favorite character. She’s the perfect blend of Thomas family virtues, some good, some bad. Marvin and Lou are the heart and soul of the cast. I love Marvin’s character arc. Unique is...unique. I shalt not droppeth any spoiler alerts. There are still some who aren’t current in their viewing. If you aren’t caught up, catch up. If you’re still sleeping, wake TF up and tune into the series immechiately. Peace to the entire Southside, from Baisley to Guy Brewer.
 
It is imperative that I take the time to properly acknowledge Black History Month. As a scholar of contextual United States history as well as one who is well acquainted with the U.S. Constitution, I feel that BHM is more than the amazing figures who have uplifted and edified our race and culture. It is also about contextual history, in all its ugliness. It is about our plight, struggle and triumphs. It is about never forgetting from whence we came, from Mother Africa to the shores of the Atlantic in shackles and chains in 1619 to present day. It’s about everything we’ve endured in between. It’s about all of us. All of it is Black History. You see it every day. You see it in yourselves. You live it. People love to talk about the Montgomery, Alabama bus boycott, and rightfully so. It was an amazing team effort that showed our moxie and resiliency. But many don’t realize that the boycott lasted exactly 12.5 months, from 12.5.1955-12.20.1956. Few today even know or take the time to consider what it was like to not use the only mode of transportation that would take you to work for over a year. The sacrifice. The struggle. All 381 days. Every single day of that boycott was Black History, not just the first and the last. The triumph is the pinnacle, but the struggle is the essence. Black. History.
 
Reaching the mountain top is the prize, but the journey to it is the glory.
 
Stephen A., please stop simping for these pilgrims. That Clark Kent shit is not it. It’s nasty work. This Megyn Kelly shit isn’t the first incident. Just stay out of the discussion if you aren’t properly informed. That bitch has a history of saying bigoted shit. That bitch is a racist. Fuck outta here. I don’t know what it is that makes you run to the defense of a bigoted, ignorant pilgrim, but get that shit the fuck outta here. Expeditiously.
 
And for all you bigoted, racist ass fuck boys and punk bitches who talk that dumb shit every time “Lift Every Voice and Sing” is performed at a major sporting event, let me enlighten you on a couple of things real quick. The song was written in late 1899 by the brilliant James Weldon Johnson. At the time, Black America was already 20 years deep in Jim Crow segregation. We fought for 250 years for our freedom, only to have it stripped after the 1876 presidential election between Rutherford B. Hayes and Samuel Tilden. Hayes sold Blacks out to the Dixiecrats in exchange for their presidential backing. In return, Hayes guaranteed that the federal government would turn a complete blind eye to whatever the Dixiecrats wanted to do with Blacks. The result was the Great Compromise of 1877, which led to the dismantling of Reconstruction and inception of Jim Crow. We went through damn near a century of Jim Crow until the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and the Voting Rights Act of 1965. That song meant hope in a time when we were still being openly lynched. Still deprived of our civil rights. A time when our intellectual elite couldn’t attend “white” institutions of higher learning. The song wasn’t written in 2020. Its history is long and deep. Fuck off. You troglodytes make it easy to...
 
Anyway...do some fucking research, you ignorant snow roaches.
 
Peace to all the lovers out there. Wednesday is your day. I can’t hate. Show her how much you care. Send him your love – with some new Apple headphones/pods/whatever. Take her out. Take him out. Buy her chocolate. Buy him kush. It’s that special time of year, baby. Happy Valentine’s Day.
 
Meanwhile, I’ll have some Bobby Womack playing while a Raw cone of kush takes away all the troubles of the day.
I’m gone.
 
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