Love Is The Icon

At age 58 - Barry White passed away this of 4th of July. White, who had suffered kidney failure from years of high blood pressure, had been undergoing dialysis treatment and had been hospitalized since last September. There are not many R&B artist that could lay down the butter-smooth vocals like Barry. All the real talent is gradually fading away and being replaced by groups like B2K, etc. RIP Barry.

Interview Magazine
Author/s: Vivien Goldman
Issue: August, 1999

VG. You wrote a song about your split from Glodean, “Whatever We Had, We Had.” Is there a way to keep a breakup civilized, even if it’s painful?

BW. I think that is the intelligent thing to do. See, I know nothing is guaranteed. You do what you can and you love the best you can. Because when you fall in love, you give up a lot of your clear thinking. That’s why I wrote the song. It was true: Whatever we had, we had. I haven’t changed about love, honey. It’s still the landlord. It still rules.

May President Bush Choke On A Hot Dog

*Enters Angelique - standing on her soap box - clearing her throat into the microphone*

My Peoples,
Tomorrow is so called “Independence Day”. Yes, I will take my son to see fireworks. Yes, I will enjoy B-B-Q and the company of family and friends. Yes indeed I will be happy as hell that I have a day off from the JOB. But it won’t have much to do about some British Christian rebels defeating their pillow biting - rotted teeth oppressors.

And I’m not even going to get started on how my Native American people were robbed of their land an spiritual beliefs. And how I could never go to Ellis Island and look up my ancestors names, due to the fact they didn’t come America by choice. None of my people were even allowed the courtesy of being an “Indentured Slave”. I’m not going to start flowing on that because we already know the deal.

However - I will hit you off with a classic.

THE REVOLUTION WILL NOT BE TELEVISED

You will not be able to stay home, brother.
You will not be able to plug in, turn on and drop out.
You will not be able to lose yourself on skag and skip,
Skip out for beer during commercials,
Because the revolution will not be televised.

The revolution will not be televised.

The revolution will not be brought to you by Xerox
In 4 parts without commercial interruption.
The revolution will not show you pictures of Nixon
Blowing a bugle and leading a charge by John
Mitchell, General Abrams and Spiro Agnew to eat
Hog maws confiscated from a Harlem sanctuary.

The revolution will not be televised.

The revolution will be brought to you by the
Schaefer Award Theatre and will not star Natalie
Wood and Steve McQueen or Bullwinkle and Julia.
The revolution will not give your mouth sex appeal.
The revolution will not get rid of the nubs.
The revolution will not make you look five pounds
Thinner, because

The revolution will not be televised, Brother.

There will be no pictures of you and Willie Mays
Pushing that cart down the block on the dead run,
Or trying to slide that color television into a stolen ambulance.
NBC will not predict the winner at 8:32
or the count from 29 districts.

The revolution will not be televised.

There will be no pictures of pigs shooting down
Brothers in the instant replay.
There will be no pictures of young being
Run out of Harlem on a rail with a brand new process.
There will be no slow motion or still life of Roy
Wilkens strolling through Watts in a red, black and
Green liberation jumpsuit that he had been saving
For just the right occasion.

Green Acres, The Beverly Hillbillies, and Hooterville
Junction will no longer be so damned relevant, and
Women will not care if Dick finally gets down with
Jane on Search for Tomorrow because Black people
will be in the street looking for a brighter day.

The revolution will not be televised.

There will be no highlights on the eleven o’clock
News and no pictures of hairy armed women
Liberationists and Jackie Onassis blowing her nose.
The theme song will not be written by Jim Webb,
Francis Scott Key, nor sung by Glen Campbell, Tom
Jones, Johnny Cash, Englebert Humperdink, or the Rare Earth.

The revolution will not be televised.

The revolution will not be right back after a message
About a white tornado, white lightning, or white people.
You will not have to worry about a germ on your
Bedroom, a tiger in your tank, or the giant in your toilet bowl.

The revolution will not go better with Coke.

The revolution will not fight the germs that cause bad breath.

The revolution WILL put you in the driver’s seat.

The revolution will not be televised, WILL not be televised,
WILL NOT BE TELEVISED.

The revolution will be no re-run brothers;

The revolution will be live.

Written by Gil Scott- Heron way back in the 60’s
- - - -
Honestly it’s not just about “Black Revoulution” but a revolution for ALL repressed people. No matter what your skin tone or culture. Now that would be something to celebrate:)

“Relations”

I live in a large three story duplex.
I have two new neighbors: Ms. Lavera and Ms.Pat.
They live upstairs - I live downstairs.
My crazy ol’ uncle lives on the third level.
Ms. Lavera is in her early 70’s and Ms.Pat in her early 50’s.
Both women are very nice, but I suspect that each has a colorful past.
Ms. Lavera likes to drink brandy. I recently learned that she keeps a loaded pistol under her mattress just in case some punk is feeling lucky.
Both of them like my son and think he is such a “mannerable” young man.
Ms. Lavera likes to give him money for the ice cream truck.
I don’t bother them and they don’t bother me.

Last night I climbed the stairs to pay them a visit.
I wanted to apologize for any disturbance I may have caused during the “LAUGH AT THE GLASS” incident.
Lately, I’ve been playing my music kind of loud so I wanted to make sure that I hadn’t bothered them with the “bass”.
I like to keep the harmony amongst my neighbors and me.
- - -
I hadn’t talk to them for a few weeks.
Ms.Lavera wasn’t home but Ms.Pat was.
She was posted up in a LazyBoy recliner- wearing a watermelon colored “house coat” and smoking generic menthol cigarettes.
I didn’t look like she was doing too much of anything.

We went on to make small talk about this and that. Every time I would start in on a topic - she would cut me off and tell me a story of her own. For every word I spoke, she would come back with 20 more. Blah blah blah. Finally she took a breath. That’s when I said:

“I just wanted to apologize if I made too much noise the other night. A guy I know popped up at my door unannounced and . . .”
BEFORE I COULD SAY ANYTHING ELSE - she cut me off again.

Ms.Pat: I heard ya’ll fuckin’ the other night.

Lique: *turning crimson* Oh my goodness! I am soooo embarrassed. I’m so sorry.

Ms.Pat: There’s no need to be embarrassed. You are a young woman. Please don’t be embarrassed. There’s nothing wrong with that.

Lique: I am so sorry.

Ms.Pat: I could hear everything. Ya’ll was going at it for a long time.

Lique: *shaking head* Oh my goodness! I am so embarrassed and I am so sorry.

Ms.Pat: I could hear him too . . .panting. I use to hear my other neighbors, fuckin’. They are husband and wife and they use to go at it all the time. I use to get so “hot”.
- - -
I was thinking to myself: TMI LADY! TMI! Too Much Information! How the hell does one excuse themselves from a conversation like this? I swear - I am always finding myself in some kind of odd situation. But I guess that’s what makes my life somewhat interesting. In the meanwhile, Ms. Pat was still flowing . . .

Ms.Pat: I had to get up and out of the bed, but I didn’t want to disturb you. It sounded like you were having a really good time. These floors creak, so I very quietly tip-toed into the livingroom and sat on the couch. It took me awhile to get in here (the living room) w/out making any noise. I just sat there reminiscing about when I was young and hot. I haven’t have any dick in 6 years. I’ve had some bad experiences. I’m afraid of men. A lot of men try to talk to me, but I just don’t want to be bothered.

Lique: *speechless and intrigued*

Ms.Pat: Ms.Lavera came out of her bedroom and asked me why was I sitting in the living room so late at night. She asked me if everything was okay.

Ms.Pat smiled and then proceeded to point at the floor.

“I told her ya’ll was fuckin’ and I couldn’t get no rest!”

*Rolls of laughter burst out of my gut*

Lique: No - you - didn’t!
Ms.Pat: Yes - I - did!