To my dear Laurens & Renés and as well other mutant strains..
ADDENDUM (and then some)
My logo brings good luck! Your total faith and belief in yourself brings even more!
Almost all of our demons speak in yesterday’s tongue.
Yes, of course, BE HERE NOW. Unless being there then has more resonance in this moment. Time travellers we are, and our mind is mainly our vehicle of transport. It isn’t always feasible to be in THIS moment, if THAT moment still brings a circular chill.
Trust above all, your own philosophy, or better yet, develop no philosophy at all.
Thank you for your encouragement, I swear, it means a lot to this soul.
Then again, the more mature part of the meditation involves seeing that, self possessed, one can simultaneously bring the past, present and future into this moment, now. Daydreaming is such a construct. Daydreaming is to the dreamer, and builder, what sperm is to the expectant father.
The great lesson of Turtle, is that if given an assignment by nature (or Heaven if you are 2 legged), it will use all of its considerable determination to access completion. Furthermore, wherever it goes, it takes its home with it. With patience, perseverance and absolutely no fear of the ‘long process’. Turtle is the long stayer, the long player, and carries its peace wherever it carries itself. The world itself was built on the back of great Turtle.
It hurts upon realizing that guys hired to imitate you in the marketplace always seem to end up with more wealth in material form than the originals they were hired to emulate, and push out of the market altogether. The ‘caster plasters’ get rich, while the lone dick shrivels, and recedes back into its bush.
….of course, then at some fair point, you get over it and accept that shit is what it is, whether it makes any real sense or not. I am certainly not the only artist/model to have noticed the baby models getting paid, while the original gets played (not to mention neutered and spayed).
Chapter 2 of the ongoing ‘NIGOR MORTIS’ saga will be titled: ‘Neutered & Spade’ (and still getting played).
Who I love, I love forever, until the alphabet fades.
Like the great satirist, Master Groucho Marx, I am very wary of attaching myself to groups or organizations that would have association with me. It’s kind of creepy.
At this point I like being my own boss and worker bee too much to even think about having to share my life decisions, and creative impulses with anyone else on earth. 100% of my own is still that, even if it is less to you. The venerable Chuck D reminds that: “Who doesn’t own the master, will always be the slave”. And I really grew tired listening to so much constant bullshit and the additional lies it breeds.
The proposed Chuck D and Chuck Berry collaboration, “2 Chucks before Noon, Chucks”, to be released on DoubleChuck Discs, is indefinitely postponed. It will be retooled for the Christmas season and packaged with ‘The Chuck Norris collection’, on DVD.
In the foreseeable future, man will be able to switch bodies as he now changes contact lenses and eye colour. You will be able to wear any of a number of bodies, as you now change clothes. A person could be Black for breakfast, Asian for lunch, and Julia Roberts for supper!
When people throw stones at you, collect them. Wow, a new summer home! We build from what we are given.
Show me a non Anglo in America without rage, and I will show you an actor, a fake. You are simply not allowed to be ‘black’ and devoid of rage. Build with rage, do not tear down with rage, unless of course you are a member of the ‘teardown’ team. Rage is vital fuel and can take a person to the outer limits of oneself. Rage is a mighty horse, just harness it.
What we feel is often not nearly as important, as that we allow feeling (of anything), at all. That we are willing to feel, is why we are braver souls than we give ourselves credit for.
Feeling creates soul, and its experience, spirit.
We, as a nation should be careful what we pray for as when it arrives, we usually kill it.
We, as a nation deserve a government that doesn’t fear our intelligence and rush to change the laws, every time we catch up to it. With every earned evolutionary gain, our leaders seem eager to pass laws that contain us and keep us from moving into further definitions of ourselves, the gains that even every religion promises to its faithful, and every prophet and poet proclaims. We awaken in time to remember that the government is of, for and by the people, and not the lobbyists who have taken over our government, and hold us all hostage for fear that we may see them for who they really are, traitors to the American dream, and take back our claim, throwing these grave-robbers into the shallow graves, where their corrupted corpses belong. We are the children of slaves who barely survived long seasons in the barren hold, the sons of pioneers who braved hostility and the elements to arrive at their appointed hour, and the daughters of founding fathers who claimed the light of reason as their guiding candle. We are the off-spring of immigrants who were abused and crushed. We deserve better than the disdain we are shown, for wanting to imbue our systems with the mercies and correction, that our travelled and storm tossed bloodlines, interwoven as a tapestry of consolidation, so richly and vastly deserves. AND WE WANT IT NOW.
A man not willing to die for his words, are not worth the words he speaks.
A woman mustn’t give birth to a child, in order to feel complete as a woman. But she must give birth to a man, or her days will feel more numbered than blessed.
A woman’s life is a call to sacrifice. The only question is how much they feel they deserve in return.
I am grateful for the beauty and simplicity of my life in Italy. I have always loved Europe, and the breath of additional air one can find and use for growth. I would be most happy in being able to live my peace in America, as the flow that has come together, no matter how tempted by turbulence, to express the portion of my living which my God has spared, and turned towards a new direction, one with a clearer less muddled view, and with a much greater insurance plan. That however would be a dream, and we are not certain as to the extent that we are allowed to interrupt God’s grace in motion, with something as idealistic as a songwriter’s dreams. We have in more than one lifetime slept from a feathered pillow in Europe, while tossing in the night dreaming of a better America.
At some point in the life of all organisms, great or small, cosmic or individual, its meanness catches up to itself. We have used political and double language to mask just how stingy we have gotten. We are only willing to provide the lifeline when it leads directly back to us. Welfare has become a dirty word, unless it benefits those who need it least, and our distance from our Christian charity is why Christ keeps his distance from us. When we return to our humble graces, and remember ourselves, our nation and its fruits will ripen and return to us. We took a vow, and a vow is spiritually binding. When we remember our cause, we will no longer have to worry about China, or Russia, or continue to covertly meddle into the affairs of Africa. We will simply reclaim our American dream. That was the sword we were given to fight with, that the sword we were given to heal with.
In truth we as a nation are embarrassed that after all of these years, we still haven’t figured out how to integrate more blacks into the economy. The history of politics in America has everything to do with how long responsibility to them could be avoided. It is largely why we are stuck. We are still finding new language to play the same game, hide the resources from the blacks, so that they do not grow strong, and become independent of us.
To placate their sensitivity, every few years, the blacks are given a new name. New opportunity to compete with the economy on its own terms might be better. Clearly a confident black man is a beat down candidate. Clearly, for as long as we fear the natural disposition of a winner, in their own skin, we will continue to plod on like mules, being passed on the road (ironically) by tribes who are not as afraid of their colour spectrum, as we are ours.
Far more dangerous than Aids or crack cocaine to the black community has been TV. As long as they are seeing themselves on TV, they will never really be seeing themselves, but fears view of them, which corrupts their image, and feeds it back to them as entertainment.
One mans ‘welfare’, is another mans ‘subsidy’.
I do not think that in all of my musings thus far, that I have stated the extent to which I was mindblown by CREAM. Almost every time, in daylights past, I were asked to name influences, they usually skipped my tongue. A block I suppose. Although a major fan of the Master Hendrix, and a Mitch Mitchell lover, CREAM were the greater band. Jimi would’ve been Jimi regardless, and his crew were a ‘put-together’ to enhance his scene. No harm at all, it worked. CREAM were different. Clapton, Bruce and Baker were/are Gods to me. This is why the Christian heaven holds me back, for I am brazenly an idolater, with no chance of reform, anytime soon.
‘American Exceptionalism’ doesn’t even make sense, if it doesn’t look that way from the inside.
Wow, when push comes to shovel, the black residents of New Orleans were jacked of their homes, and cleared of the city to make room for more Republicans. Now THAT’S mean.
….and some pretty mean ‘redistricting’.
Yes, I believe our government is just that mean, I’ve seen it firsthand (and from the back of theirs).
I also believe that we are simply much better than that.
A man can steer a committee much better when he is outside of it, than when he is in it.
Unless it means everything to your living, but everything, leave the music completely alone. It simply isn’t worth the murder otherwise. I died for the music because I was willing to, but in truth it was much bigger than my desire. It is as if the music itself gave birth to my spirit (why not, the music even gave birth to God), and I am powerless to assume any shape that she herself doesn’t form. They will kill you, and killing a man’s spirit is a heavier penalty than killing their body. A bottle can be replaced more easily than the wine. Since music is the author of vibrations, and vibrations the author of emotion, it is known by our puppet masters to be a potent social force, which is why its pied pipers are strangled, and held to contracts that are but chains of containment, chains no longer of metal, but of largely indecipherable and deliberately confusing words. Since we are groomed from the cradle to aspire to not much more than TV, we fail in the blinding light of false glamour to see just how antiquated, and deadly, our systems are. We are still slaves, it’s just that the pay grade has shifted. You will hardly, anywhere in America find someone with talents, particularly minorities, who isn’t heavily controlled and monitored by a group of slave, I mean (oops) shareholders. This is our demo-crazy. You are only free to express your freedom if already owned by a group of people, most of whom you’ll never know or see, and who are just as jealous as any other group of anonymous, restless and greedy status quo types. Unfortunately, particularly black people, seem to know, nor trust any other way. We remain small haggling over identity with the small minded.
Once you have been forced to haggle with constant mediocrity and jealousy, posed as a corporate filter more interested in containment than true enterprise, it isn’t an experience that can tempt you much after awakening to it. Now, it even seems retarded to have the power and desire to create, with music new shapes, yet wait while a committee of revolving men decide whether or not their balls measure up to the size of yours. An offer only means that some other controlling crew (and they do get so very mad when they cannot control us), will offer me my own income in advance for my manhood. Only a desperate man or a child would accept trading in his time for the cost of impatience. Committees by their nature assume a coward’s grace.
Even though the black hand of the empire still interferes with my fate, it is ok, I have all of the time in the world, and heavens assurance that the evil which has bedevilled me will be outed at the appropriate time.
Rock would be so much better were it not so racist. It is ok for hip hop to allow all shades. It is ok for the world to be made safe for Disney graduates to inherit the mantles that black men build. It just isn’t ok for the traffic to flow the other way. Laugh if you want, but even the music itself is offended, and largely keeps her true fertility away now from the industry. She will not return until some fairness is restored, and if I lie, I die. She speaks to me, and is very not amused.
A shout out of respect to real pioneers ‘MOTHER’S FINEST’. Then the industry stole their singer, and tried to turn her into an R&B act, just as all black quarterbacks coming out of college were turned into defensive backs and wide receivers.
Joyce Kennedy her name was. And they squeezed her, as tight as this space is.
This is not coming from a chip on my shoulder. It comes from having the whole damn forest. Atlas will always have a chip on his shoulder. It is his job.
Earth is the kindergarten of the solar system. It is why we are so heavily monitored and watched. We are not alone, nor would any God in their right mind leave such hostile tribes alone for even a second. We are being raised, and then we will travel on. Some to their idea of heaven, some to their idea of hell.
We exist in time, our spirits do not.
It takes more and more money now to run for President. It takes the right amount to in effect purchase the outcome of those voting computers whose outcome can be predetermined, if not jiggled outright thereafter. You simply buy the office now, and run through the campaign earning the money to purchase the machines.
We are currently preparing a compilation of material of our virgin Euro tour. Watch this space for details. Or even this space here.
While other Gods are out chasing ‘poon’, Atlas holds an entire world, and when naturally he shrugs, the whole earth trembles, and prays that it be as a result of his posture, and not his attitude. A word to the sages need only be a seed.
The best of luck and circumstance to my old but ever young and beautiful friend Kylie, of the Minogue Clan, for her upcoming European tour! Her physical size belies the giant that is within her and she still has one of the sexiest butts in all of entertainment!
I am guilty almost constantly of idol worship. Even as a boy, I was ever enthralled by the stories of Jason and his Argonauts, Apollo and his chariot of fire, Dionysus and his audacity, Hermes and his scarves (a bit of a stretch I know), Zeus, and his command of all the other Gods. I fell in love with Athena as if I knew her. To this day, I have an attraction to tall women (though not only tall women) largely because of the Amazonians, who swore allegiance to Athena, and to another of her manifestations, ISIS. Hearing the exploits of the infant God Mercury, delighted me no less than the stories I later heard of the mischief of the sweet infant, Lord Krishna. Of course, no legend struck me as profoundly as the myth of Prometheus, who to this day, I feel I know like the back of Zeus’ hand. Know this if you will about Prometheus, he is the true father of Rock, and all of the lineage that came before it. He traded his liver for it, which is how it is for most musicians in fact.
The truth is that I do not even know who I am when I am not being beaten down by social forces.
Whether or not he’s a crank, we hate H. Chavez simply because he sees us for who we are, and doesn’t need our money.
Maestro Garrison Keillor is a hero to me, and one of the few reasons to read the predictable and reactionary International Herald Tribune.
Only the fully asleep, or dead would think that they can stop Shiva from his appointed rounds.
When it becomes too easy to offend our leaders, we ought to replace them.
The cannibals to fear are not the ones in forests who eat your flesh, but the far worse ones in cities who eat your mind. Yes, cannibalism is real.
Being a Buddhist is cool. Being a Buddha is even cooler. One does not have to be a Buddhist in order to be a Buddha, or you can be, it is your choice.
….and knowing how to play even just 3 chords on a guitar is even cooler than being a Buddha.
You can arrive at a point where you can feel other energies chewing away at your brain, these attachments belong to the Vampires, who are cannibals by diet.
You or none of us are obliged to anyone else’s idea of what love is. Love isn’t love if it isn’t your love. Jesus did not come to teach us love, he simply shared his own. He came to teach us how to be men, and not just a bunch of pussies, running around chanting and waiting for the world to change.
Overall it can be said that Christianity has not been a friend to black consciousness. Most sects of American Christianity are downright hostile to it. More black men are in jail than church because jail shows more respect for who they are. Church keeps asking them to apologize for it.
Part of the residual effect of 9/11 was to stem the flow of American black men towards American Islam, which has always been willing to show more respect for the unique experience that having a black consciousness entails. A black consciousness sprinkled with the fruits of other race consciousness which also moves and delights it, is a thing of great beauty. To arrive in time to a Silver consciousness composed of a melding of expression and maturity, is the whole point of the enterprise. I believe in Heaven, I just don’t believe that I have to wait until I get there to live my life as a man. If heaven and her gates belong to me, then Earth does as well.
I might’ve paid more attention to the legend of Samson and Delilah. I know what it is like, to place your head in a woman’s lap and totally lose your mind and strength.
…and then to be mocked by her as she uses the power you gave her, against you.
Even Atheists are accepted by Italians, a heavily Catholic nation, but vegetarians baffle them, as they cannot be comprehended by the Italian spirit, for which “mangiare” is equal to their religion.
A man can still go far not being liked. It is impossible to go anywhere, and not be felt.
The rise of India is good for the positive images that it gives American people of colour for the diversity of their institutions. There, they are not held hostage to themselves as only entertainers and athletes, but as doctors (some of the best in the world) and professionals who must use their intellect to pursue their lives and dreams. Despite almost consistent interference from the British, their society has held, and shared their blessings with the world. Examples prove, rhetoric, of which we are masters, loses the shine of its dime in time.
When we can manage to integrate our people as Americans, without hyphenation, we will have arrived at our appointment. We have as much diversity as anyone, and should be held to a higher account. Why? Because we say we are better. It seems that those tribes which claim closest allegiance with God (the Americans, the Jews), could do a whole lot better in proving it.
When governments claim a close relationship with the Lord, the budget is about to be jacked, with nothing left for the people but to pray.
The only reparations that we require are an education that matters and opportunities to work.
It is easier for a man of colour to get an education if he can put a ball through a hoop. If he can put his mind through a mystery, he’s on his own.
Our currency has devalued because our values have lost their currency and memory. Were we really convinced of the rightness of our way, our dollar, which we dedicated to God, would still be King. The dollar will return, when we return to ourselves. No other equation matters.
Even economic science must still obey spiritual laws, or it remains economic science and not economic miracles.
800 channels available and not one dedicated to showing the simple grace of miracles in our everyday affairs.
…it is assumed that we prefer seeing more endless programming showing men and women of colour being harassed by the police. We are responsible for our images, as the symbols we invest in our society, is the reality we draw back. We could keep building endless prisons for your tax dollar, or we could simply hire better teachers with the same dollar instead.
Prison life was better for inmates when they were gives actual work to do. Work is good for a man’s soul, and what is good for his soul, is good for his economy as well. When our emphasis turns to rehabilitation, and not punishment, we will inherit a stronger workforce, and not have to keep shifting our jobs away to a country peopled by those we wouldn’t let into our country to work.
That is why the immigration debate is toothless. We don’t need to let them in, we just keep giving your jobs to them. The same corporations that use their influence to keep them out, are the same eager to dispose of your job, and give it those they are trying to keep out. Strange logic, but that’s what happens when Senators work for lobbyists, and not its citizens.
We the people can form our own shadow governments, which respond to our will. We can form our own shadow congress, and stop this unmanly display of chasing politicians and begging them to serve us. We can select from our internet connections and voices, those who speak our language as opposed to the state language of ‘doublespeak’. Initially our government will reject it out of fear, but then we will merge and become a real body politic.
The best way to get a government’s attention is to avoid and ignore them.
They have fallen asleep believing that they are our masters, and not our servants.
The Chinese are successful not because they are better than us but because they are much clearer about who they are.
Even the boldest and nastiest demons speak the truth in the face of God.
While other children were getting their Disney minds together, their Easter Bunny minds, I was dealing with exorcisms and demons cursing out ministers.
I idol worship, adoringly, Dr. Seuss for what his genius allows me to retain of my childhood. A childhood shot so full of holes, it could never hold Pepsi. His books for me are as profound as anything written by Homer, who was a black man, and of whom I am also proud.
I once had the privilege to visit the residence of Dr. Theodore Geisel, the tax name of the maestro Seuss, and felt a joy, and a comfort just as real as when I would drive to Ojai, in California, to steal an orange from the orchards of the great J. Krishnamurti. Krishnamurti is not dead, I am close to him and we speak all of the time. Neither is Dr. Geisel, who does not speak to me as far as I can tell, but his works live on in me, and every other fool that his grace has touched. Today, to calm my spirit, I think that I shall read, “The Butter Battle Book”. After which, I think that I shall sit with a bottle of vino and his master stroke “And To Think That I Saw It On Mulberry Street”
We were also moved as a youth by the story of Orpheus. I fell in love with Orpheus and Prometheus, maybe because both of their names ends in ‘us’.
The legend of Orpheus was used as the basis of the story of the Prodigal Son.
Chapter 3: Prodigal Sunrise.
The legend of Prometheus foreshadowed the coming of Christ.
If John Lennon were still alive (in physical form, for he too is not really dead), the music wouldn’t have the nerve to be so shit. Once the Lions have left, the monkeys take over, and deterioration commences.
We are besieged by pretty singers who sing well, and say less and less all the time. One wavering note of Sinatra’s voice had more music and feeling in it, than the whole of most labels’ rosters today.
The great maestro Nat ‘King’ Cole farted more music than most people are capable of making now.
…and now, here is another ‘Butt Cheek Serenade’!!!
Our military would be bigger, and stronger were there less of us in jail.
Hank Williams would be petrified to see how politically dogmatic his genre has become. A genre that like Atlas, he personally lifted upon his shoulders, and reintroduced to grace, and its myriad comforts. Songs born in heaven from the morning breath of Angels would fly into Hank’s hands, just for the honour of being handled by him. If there is a redneck grace, master Hank was its poster boy.
Angels usually die in mysterious circumstances.
Most of our ‘sins’ are merely our regrets. Self empathy and forgiveness is the cure for this disease.
Using God as a basis to kill only shows more our need of him. Corruption, and God cannot exist well in the same space. God is the absence of corruption and not its enabler.
Those who do not believe in God at all inherit more grace than those who say they do, then act as if they didn’t.
It does not take the Pope to see that we have inherited our current state of affairs, due to our massive contradiction, in who we say we are, and in how we act.
It is wiser to stand down from God altogether, than to stroke him with the left hand, while beating his children with the right.
The starch will return to our flag, when we stop using it to cover our true face.
Christ largely avoids the churches as no group is as likely to kill him again if he should come not dressed according to their imaginations. When the Lord is forced to choose between serving our spirits or our imaginations, he goes for the spirit, and trusts that the imagination will conform to its own graces in time. It is what we are given time for.
As Christ would by his sweet grace outgrow even his own dogma, he would simply move on, and wait for his churches to catch up with him.
He would also be a trusting friend if asked even to those who would never step foot (or inches) in a cathedral. He above all would more than understand.
Christ, as were the Gods before him, is a sucker for the sincere.
Christ and his fountain like spirit, is more likely these days to be found on a playground, where children laugh, negotiate and play (which is a physical form of prayer), than he is to be found in storefronts and synagogues. The ‘demagogues in the synagogues’ have largely squeezed him out.
Christ too loses faith from time to time. He is Christ for his willingness to keep finding it.
Christ doesn’t really care if you are a Jehovah’s Witness, or an Atheist (he above all would understand the pull of being Atheist), he does care that you care for your life with all of your heart and spirit, and run for your roses like the devil himself.
Christ is not to be found in debates. Christ is to be found in the resolution of debates.
I envy the Spanish. They get to be named Jesus, we only get to say it.
Corporate music is like corporate tobacco. Real tobacco, whether you are drawn to it or not, is a source of wisdom. Corporate tobacco comes with death signs already stamped all over it. Real sincere music will lift your spirit. Corporate music will kill it, as artists are only promoted who have agreed to die to themselves and what matters most to them.
Ignorance of the higher spiritual laws is no excuse, but we are given time to see that for ourselves.
When God comes to snatch you, where you are hiding, and in what religion is irrelevant.
God doesn’t mind being organized, but he hates being constrained. Who would constrain God is not ready for him.
…yet, there are Angels willing to assist us in the meantime.
When we use God to frighten people and not to move them, our spiritual credit rating goes down. Strong credit rating produces better miracles.
When God is being used to punish others, he draws back from these encounters. When he is used to feed souls, he is ever present, right there and looking through you.
If you wish to find Christ, go to the hospitals where the babies are, and there he is, putting his stamp on them, in case they need him later.
If you wish to find Christ, go to the grave yards where the fresh bodies are, and there he is, listening to their confession, and moving them on their way.
If you wish to find Christ, go into an abused child’s room, and see him there, comforting them.
Every man beaten down from his own cross knows Christ intimately.
If you wish to find Christ, go to where there is life and abundance and there you will find him, harvesting.
Christ also attends weddings, just in case the 2 souls really mean it.
Christ also loves a good picnic, and will send his winds there to keep the ants a little honest.
God does not share our confusion. Christ does, and you can talk to him. He was created to share our pain.
Warning to the unsuspecting: Christ has a wicked sense of humour. Humour is condensed and digested wisdom, and serves all spirits well.
Only a dead Christ is prohibited, and a dead Christ is really no Christ at all.
When Christ is not writing songs with Bob Dylan, he’s available to you as well. But call Bob first, just to make sure.
The spirit of Christ can also be enticed by certain fragrances, of which one is lavender.
The success of the initial ‘Matrix’ chronicle is that it retold the story of Christ, in comic book language for these modern times.
The Christ I know may bear no resemblance to the one you know. Trust the one you know.
This is the end, I have got to let Christ go now so that he can finish helping Bob write his next project……..
It is impossible, under the influence of spirit, to hear the great maestro Beethoven’s music, and hear only music. One hears as well the afterthoughts of a Christ, that would administer a humanity that would then turn on him and render him, as one would render a cow or a horse’s hooves for the glue factory. A nuclear bomb could erase the memory of our whole culture, and Ludwig’s music would restore our spirits’ towards continuance. It is fitting that he were a race mongrel, as disparate in DNA, as the master Mozart’s was ‘pure’. We are such mutant bastards of grace, a jigsaw, a crossword at cross purposes with ourselves, and yet we are reminded by the great master that we are still accountable children of God, and that, remembering this alone restores our memories to its flight path, where even birds serenade us, with their sweet morning songs.
Do not hate the Muslims, most are fair. Instead hate the assholes that blow shit up in the name of Allah.
If you cannot imagine Muhammed Ali blowing up a plane full of passengers, or even an empty one, then the prophet Muhammed wouldn’t either. Our American Muhammed is a manifestation of the great God Muhammed who received his commission from Gabriel, all those years ago. Even God’s outgrow their own wrath, and the sword rattler that was the prophet Muhammed’s image, and legend has chilled since, considerably. The true spirit of the prophet and his circular graces lives on in our very own, and the world’s former Cassius Clay, whose name I adore, because it also ends in ‘us’. In fact, and to conclude, if you wish to see the spirit of Christ, stand close to Muhammed Ali, each time I have been blessed to spend time with him, Christ is usually there as well, standing over his shoulder like a true friend, and standing in as much awe of him as any other mortal.
The Gods that we do not kill, we awaken.
A shout out of major, massive respects to Master Joe Frazier, the greatest nemesis a God could have, and as true and inspiring a warrior as any man could ever hope to be moved by. It wasn’t easy being Muhammed, neither was it easy to be ‘Smokin’ Joe, but he stood the post he was asked to fill, and with as much courage, dignity and grace as any man. The older I get, the greater maestro Frazier becomes. Memories swell, as does with time, our pride.
We are grateful for your ear, we shall figure out what to do with your balls later.
All respects to your grace, and its yearning. I feel it, it is my service.
Every God has a gatekeeper. Smoking Joe was Ali’s gatekeeper, and through him his greatness had to pass, and did.
There is more medicine in the music of Mozart, then there is in all of the pharmaceutical companies combined.
James Jamerson (look him up, lazies) played more music through his basslines than most records today can lay claim to in an hour. Including all of the other instruments on the record. Even the immense Maestro McCartney genuflects, if you say his name softly, and in the presence of the wind.
Uber maestro Bach would hear a lot of his ideas, adopted and incorporated by Master Jamerson. He was simply the most gifted musician to ever assign himself to the bass, and rewrote all of the binary laws of the instrument, not as a sidekick weapon , but as it’s own authority and discipline. For me, Master Paul Mc is his most illustrious disciple, and worthy heir.
Rick James may be fashionable to ridicule, but he did do a lot to alter the face of R&B. It is always frustrating to be an artist with more ideas than permission. With what he was given to do, Rick James changed shit, and put his stamp on the times, times we are still drinking from. His ego was his own affair, but was certainly worthy of the music that that same ego projected. The music misses Rick, who started out (for those of you who don’t know) with another one of my hero’s, Neil Young, in a group called, ‘The Mynah Birds’. Look this shit up, it’s important.
God bless Rick James, and all of the shit he had to deal with. We thank his generous spirit for the music, and fresh blueprints he left behind, for future exploration.
Just to give your mind a quick thrill, see if you can find a copy of Master Rick’s‘ Coldblooded’. It cures cancer, though you didn’t hear it from me.
They say (in Japan) that my music has brain healing powers. That’s cool, but in reality, I always wished for my music to cure flatulence.
Sayonara bitches, it is time to go.
COPYRIGHT SANANDA MAITREYA
INTELLECTUAL COPYRIGHT PROTECTED
ps would the person closest to Kylie pinch her nipple and tell her that Maitreya and the rest of his world loves her and regards her courage!