So I was thinking about doing a Keak da Freak post, but then decided that was overstepping. Somehow. Or maybe a post about how wire seasons 3 and 4 argue for the incarceration of black males aged 13-30. But then I decided to just put up some good Junior Murvin and whatever else I found good for the weekend. You all know Junior Murvin. He's like the the blues to the Clash's Elvis.
Hey Hima and Dap and Kate, it's crazy how when our band The Splash covers this track everyone thinks I wrote it cuz I got that stolen mensa card on my walletchain:
Sorry, but fuck The Clash. That's the only thing I've said all week without trying to up my social clout.
Really really this track:
This tack too:
Oh, and the swine story:
After graduating highschool without my diploma signed I packed my bags and moved to the U.S. colony of St. Croix. Fastest non-socio-economic discovery was if someone asks for a paper and you try to give them anything other than a Big Bambu... you get made fun of. Also the dude named Soundboy hollers from the shanty "Eh! Bring me fahk!" and his kid hollers "Fahk?!" and he hollers "A fahk! Fi eat wif!" and his kid hollers "O! Fahk fi eat wif." Back to the story: So this Bobo dread (like Sizzla, believes that a dude in Jamaica named Emmanuel is the second coming of Jesse and part of a holy trinity with Ras Tafari as God, Garvey as Prophet, and Emmanuel aka Dada as the Son) named Esau who spends much of his day picking canep from public trees and selling them to tourists and locals at differnt prices was riding in my Nissan Green and saked me for paper. So I hand him a Big Bambu and he starts tearing the gum off it and I ask why? cuz the dude clearly brushes his teeth with licorice and I don't feel like smoking h is slobberspliff. And he tells me very matter-o-fact that the gum on the papers is made of pig semen. And I'm quiet for a second, gears turning, then say no way man that's impossible. And he says no, truth, them white men spend the day rubbing the swine fi put gum pon dis so you and I smoke it up like bombaclat. I try and explain that that is inefficient and expensive and whatever and that they have better things to do than... but by that time he's lit the slobberspliff and we're at his friend's house. And his friend agrees with him.
Stop rubbing swine, please. For Esau's sake.
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1 comment:
I could probably put away like a thirty-forty page story about St. Croix written all rambly like that. I like to do the patois in my head all racist-like, can't be helped.
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