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popentertainmentmusic · 2 years

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NOTHING COMPARES (2022)

Featuring Sinéad O’Connor, Jeannette Byrne, Paul Byrne, Mike Clowes, Bill Coleman, Chuck D, Fr. Brian D’Arcy, John Grant, Kate Garner, Margo Harkin, Roisin Ingle, Dr. Sinéad Kennedy, Clodagh Latimer, Claire Lewis, John Maybury, Peaches, Marco Pirroni, John Reynolds, Elaine Schock, Skin and Jerry Stafford.

Written by Eleanor Emptage, Kathryn Ferguson and Michael Mallie.

Directed by Kathryn Ferguson.

Distributed by Showtime. 96 minutes. Not Rated.

The Sinéad O’Connor documentary Nothing Compares starts with one of the more horrific moments in an often-tragic life.

It took place soon after the Irish vocalist started a media firestorm while performing on Saturday Night Live, where after doing a passionate a capella rendition of Bob Marley’s protest song “War,” O’Connor said to the camera, “Fight the real enemy” and ripped up a photo of Pope John Paul II. (At the time of the incident, SNL head honcho Lorne Michaels banned O’Connor from the show and swore that the footage of the performance would never be seen again, however it has been trotted out often over the years – and is included yet again in this documentary.)

Anyway, soon afterwards, O’Connor had been invited to an all-star celebration of Bob Dylan’s 30 years in music. All of the guest singers were performing Dylan songs in honor of the show’s host. Kris Kristofferson introduced O’Connor, “I’m real proud to introduce this next artist whose name became synonymous with courage and integrity. Ladies and gentlemen, Sinéad O’Connor.” and the New York crowd turned on her – booing her lustily to the point that she could not even get her song (which was supposed to be Dylan’s 1979 tune “I Believe in You”) out. She stood silently at the microphone for a while, but the booing just got worse. Finally she spat out another angry rendition of Marley’s “War” and stalked offstage.

What was it about O’Connor – a woman who was smart, principled, passionate, giving, progressive, professional and both fierce and damaged at the same time – which brought out these intense reactions?

Nothing Compares tries, mostly successfully, to explain this. It also does a good job of showing how O’Connor was ahead of her time – both as a musician and as a human rights activist. It also shows that beyond all other things, she was a scared former victim of abuse who was in way over her head in a world she wasn’t even sure she wanted to be a part of.

Nothing Compares mostly focuses on the years 1987 to 1993, the supernova part of O’Connor’s early career when she released her first three albums – The Lion and the Cobra (1987), I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got (1990) and the all-covers album Am I Not Your Girl? It was also the period of time when – for better or worse (and sometimes both) – O’Connor was a regular in the rock and tabloid press.

If you lived through the 1980s and 90s, you probably remember it well. O'Connor went from a talented, sensitive alt-rock chick to a superstar who had had to deal with a million-selling single and the apparent inability to follow it up. Then she had to deal with the “Star-Spangled Banner” incident, the bald chick jokes, the Pope controversy, getting lustily booed off the stage at the Garden, a failed suicide attempt and even the threat of an ass-kicking from Ol’ Blue Eyes. (And, this documentary shows, also the threat of a beatdown from Joe Pesci.)

O’Connor, speaking now with years of hindsight, acknowledges that she never got into music for money and stardom. In fact, she considered it a form of therapy, and if no one ever heard it, she was fine with that. Early on, when she got critical acclaim and a certain amount of notice for her debut album and her first single “Mandinka,” her life was mostly in control. She married young, had a baby, toyed with acting and was able to mostly live her own life. Even her dramatic fashion sense and look was not to get attention, it was just an expression of her individuality.

Of course, all this changed when O’Connor recorded a fairly obscure song by musical icon Prince called “Nothing Compares 2 U,” which the songwriter had written for the debut album of a short-lived group on his label called The Family, which was a spinoff of The Time. “Nothing Compares” wasn’t even the single from The Family album, it was a song called “The Screams of Passion.” It was an album track on a barely noticed record. And O’Connor’s sparse and emotional cover made the song her own – and became a number one single internationally.

It seemed odd that throughout the film they have lots of O’Connor’s music throughout the film, with the exception of her one huge hit single, the one song she is known best for. Then a chyron over the end credits explains ‘The Prince Estate denied use of Sinéad’s recording of ‘Nothing Compares 2 U’ in this film.” In fact, O’Connor’s entire, somewhat fraught relationship with the late music superstar who wrote her biggest hit is completely ignored, to the point that the film never even mentions that it was Prince who wrote the song until that quick disclaimer at the end of the film.

Other tragedies in her life were also skirted over or not mentioned, like her attempted suicide attempt and her son’s later problems with mental illness and drugs which led to his death. This last thing happened years after the thrust of the film, however at the end Nothing Compares does flash forward to the present day for a performance and also to celebrate the large part O’Connor played in getting abortion legalized in her home of Ireland – and her difficulties with her son was certainly a defining part of her life.

However, I can see why O’Connor would not want to discuss these horrible situations and I cannot totally blame director Kathryn Ferguson for not pushing these subjects. Nothing Compares is more of a celebration of a quirky, groundbreaking career and a woman’s principled (if sometimes a little exasperating) refusal to be what the machine wanted from her.

And it is good to see that despite all of the hardships she has had through her life – whether self-caused or through wild fate – Sinéad O’Connor seems to have become a rather well-grounded and somewhat content adult. Also, Nothing Compares proves that she was never just a one-hit-wonder. Even without her biggest hit, there is some fantastic music here that still feels groundbreaking 30 years on.

Jay S. Jacobs

youtube

#Sinead O'Connor #2022 #music videos #Nothing Compares #Jay S. Jacobs

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popentertainment-moviereviews · 2 years

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NOTHING COMPARES (2022)

Written by Eleanor Emptage, Kathryn Ferguson and Michael Mallie.

Directed by Kathryn Ferguson.

Distributed by Showtime. 96 minutes. Not Rated.

The Sinéad O’Connor documentary Nothing Compares starts with one of the more horrific moments in an often-tragic life.

Jay S. Jacobs

youtube

#Nothing Compares #2022 #Movie Review #Sinead O'Connor #Jay S. Jacobs

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blackpoetry · 3 years

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Somebody Blew Up America They say its some terrorist, some barbaric A Rab, in Afghanistan It wasn't our American terrorists It wasn't the Klan or the Skin heads Or the them that blows up nigger Churches, or reincarnates us on Death Row It wasn't Trent Lott Or David Duke or Giuliani Or Schundler, Helms retiring

It wasn't The gonorrhea in costume The white sheet diseases That have murdered black people Terrorized reason and sanity Most of humanity, as they pleases

They say (who say?) Who do the saying Who is them paying Who tell the lies Who in disguise Who had the slaves Who got the bux out the Bucks

Who got fat from plantations Who genocided Indians Tried to waste the Black nation

Who live on Wall Street The first plantation Who cut your nuts off Who rape your ma Who lynched your pa

Who got the tar, who got the feathers Who had the match, who set the fires Who killed and hired Who say they God & still be the Devil

Who the biggest only Who the most goodest Who do Jesus resemble

Who created everything Who the smartest Who the greatest Who the richest Who say you ugly and they the goodlookingest

Who define art Who define science

Who made the bombs Who made the guns

Who bought the slaves, who sold them

Who called you them names Who say Dahmer wasn't insane

Who? Who? Who?

Who stole Puerto Rico Who stole the Indies, the Philipines, Manhattan Australia & The Hebrides Who forced opium on the Chinese

Who own them buildings Who got the money Who think you funny Who locked you up Who own the papers

Who owned the slave ship

Who run the army

Who the fake president Who the ruler Who the banker

Who? Who? Who?

Who own the mine Who twist your mind Who got bread Who need peace Who you think need war

Who own the oil Who do no toil Who own the soil Who is not a nigger Who is so great ain't nobody bigger

Who own this city

Who own the air Who own the water

Who own your crib Who rob and steal and cheat and murder and make lies the truth Who call you uncouth

Who live in the biggest house Who do the biggest crime Who go on vacation anytime

Who killed the most niggers Who killed the most Jews Who killed the most Italians Who killed the most Irish Who killed the most Africans Who killed the most Japanese Who killed the most Latinos

Who? Who? Who?

Who own the ocean Who own the airplanes Who own the malls Who own television Who own radio

Who own what ain't even known to be owned Who own the owners that ain't the real owners

Who own the suburbs Who suck the cities Who make the laws

Who made Bush president Who believe the confederate flag need to be flying Who talk about democracy and be lying

Who the Beast in Revelations Who 666 Who know who decide Jesus get crucified

Who the Devil on the real side Who got rich from Armenian genocide

Who the biggest terrorist Who change the bible Who killed the most people Who do the most evil Who don't worry about survival

Who have the colonies Who stole the most land Who rule the world Who say they good but only do evil Who the biggest executioner

Who? Who? Who?

Who own the oil Who want more oil Who told you what you think that later you find out a lie

Who? Who? Who?

Who found Bin Laden, maybe they Satan Who pay the CIA, Who knew the bomb was gonna blow Who know why the terrorists Learned to fly in Florida, San Diego

Who know why Five Israelis was filming the explosion And cracking they sides at the notion

Who need fossil fuel when the sun ain't goin' nowhere

Who make the credit cards Who get the biggest tax cut Who walked out of the Conference Against Racism Who killed Malcolm, Kennedy & his Brother Who killed Dr King, Who would want such a thing? Are they linked to the murder of Lincoln?

Who invaded Grenada Who made money from apartheid Who keep the Irish a colony Who overthrow Chile and Nicaragua later

Who killed David Sibeko, Chris Hani, the same ones who killed Biko, Cabral, Neruda, Allende, Che Guevara, Sandino,

Who killed Kabila, the ones who wasted Lumumba, Mondlane, Betty Shabazz, Die, Princess Di, Ralph Featherstone, Little Bobby

Who locked up Mandela, Dhoruba, Geronimo, Assata, Mumia, Garvey, Dashiell Hammett, Alphaeus Hutton

Who killed Huey Newton, Fred Hampton, Medgar Evers, Mikey Smith, Walter Rodney, Was it the ones who tried to poison Fidel Who tried to keep the Vietnamese Oppressed

Who put a price on Lenin's head

Who put the Jews in ovens, and who helped them do it Who said "America First" and ok'd the yellow stars

Who killed Rosa Luxembourg, Liebneckt Who murdered the Rosenbergs And all the good people iced, tortured, assassinated, vanished

Who got rich from Algeria, Libya, Haiti, Iran, Iraq, Saudi, Kuwait, Lebanon, Syria, Egypt, Jordan, Palestine,

Who cut off peoples hands in the Congo Who invented Aids Who put the germs In the Indians' blankets Who thought up "The Trail of Tears"

Who blew up the Maine & started the Spanish American War Who got Sharon back in Power Who backed Batista, Hitler, Bilbo, Chiang kai Chek

Who decided Affirmative Action had to go Reconstruction, The New Deal, The New Frontier, The Great Society,

Who do Tom Ass Clarence Work for Who doo doo come out the Colon's mouth Who know what kind of Skeeza is a Condoleeza Who pay Connelly to be a wooden negro Who give Genius Awards to Homo Locus Subsidere

Who overthrew Nkrumah, Bishop, Who poison Robeson, who try to put DuBois in Jail Who frame Rap Jamil al Amin, Who frame the Rosenbergs, Garvey, The Scottsboro Boys, The Hollywood Ten

Who set the Reichstag Fire

Who knew the World Trade Center was gonna get bombed Who told 4000 Israeli workers at the Twin Towers To stay home that day Why did Sharon stay away?

Who? Who? Who?

Explosion of Owl the newspaper say The devil face cd be seen

Who make money from war Who make dough from fear and lies Who want the world like it is Who want the world to be ruled by imperialism and national oppression and terror violence, and hunger and poverty.

Who is the ruler of Hell? Who is the most powerful

Who you know ever Seen God?

But everybody seen The Devil

Like an Owl exploding In your life in your brain in your self Like an Owl who know the devil All night, all day if you listen, Like an Owl Exploding in fire. We hear the questions rise In terrible flame like the whistle of a crazy dog

Like the acid vomit of the fire of Hell Who and Who and WHO who who Whoooo and Whooooooooooooooooooooo! Courtesy of; http://www.afropoets.net/amiribaraka.html

#black poems #black poets society #black writers #poetry #america

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coffee-n-bagels-comic-universe · 3 years

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Kirby's Full Bio (1984)

"I'm gonna rip your guts out and eat them, then I'll rip your face off and wear it."

Name: Kirby Trevor

Aliases: The Giantess, Gluttony, Kirby Lucifarian, (Gluttonous Machine)

Nicknames: Tall-ass

Age: 29 (Born January 13th 1955)

Race: Human, 1/4 Irish 1/4 Welsh 1/4 Norwegian 1/4 Scottish

Gender: Female. She/Her pronouns

Sexuality: Biromantic (Asexual)

Height: 6'8" / 203 cm

Weight: 250 lbs / 17 stone / 113 kg

Eye Colour: Blue

Hair Colour: Blonde

Clothing Style: Casual - Gothic

Religion: N/A (In a 'would prefer not to say' way)

Personality Traits: Self-Indulgent, Hard-Working, Gloomy, Reserved, Blunt, Sensitive

Strengths: Knows what she likes and what she wants. Willing to bleed hard-way if needed. Keeps to herself until she needs to speak or act.

Weaknesses: Extremely secretive. Eats almost 24/7. Won't talk to anyone when feeling down or missing home.

Likes: food, camper vans, pick-up trucks, Orange ("both the colour and the fruit, but not the juice"), trifle, Halloween, Easter, pigs, boars, quad bikes, chrysanthemums, lager shandy (aka Panaché), black shirts, black jumpsuits, horror movies, comedy movies

Dislikes: Jellied eels, VW beetles, tractors, neon colours, Battenberg Cake, Christmas, people who pronounce Samhain as 'Sam-Hain', spiders, moths, motorcycles, Poison ivy (the plant), skirts, shorts, hospitals, wasps, social events

Family: Heaven Trevor (Mother), Eric Trevor (Father), Kennedy Turnbull (Maternal Aunt)

Friends: Vickie, Billie, P.G, Holly, Eli, Sam, André the Giant

Enemies: Moolah, Wendi Richter, Big John Studd, Hulk Hogan, Lord Alfred Hayes, Dynamite Kid, Brutus Beefcake

Role: Mouth (Kinda), Muscle (Kinda), Brain (Kinda), the intimidating one/ human scare tactic

Backstory/Past: Kirby grew up as a tall child, permanently taller than everyone around her. Her mother the less successful sister of a chief nurse and her father one of eight kids. No one knew how tall she would eventually be and how much pain she'd end up in before she got corrective surgery at the age of 19 (she stopped growing at 6'8"). She pays for everything in her life through wrestling, something she'd learnt from her family.

Kirby started wrestling professionally when she was 16, and back then she was only six-foot-two. Having a flair for the dramatic and a desire to up the amount of money she could splurge on food, Kirby trained to be a highflyer and soon doubled her drawing power because of it, after all, it's not every day that you see an actual giant do a backflip and succeed. Going under the mask as a way to market herself as a potential threat came soon after this.

Although, in reality she knows deep down that she wears the mask to hide her face and remain somewhat private in her everyday life. She would make people think that if the mask was removed, during a match, that she would become much more savage and cannibalistic and attempt to bite her opponent. Vickie talked her into becoming the Gluttonous Giantess within the 'Daughters of Darkness’ and soon after joining her natural height and weight advantage put her on the track for being the biggest draw of the group, a role Kirby doesn't much like.

By the time she was 24 (1979) the group was fully put together. Upon joining the WWF, in 1984, Kirby was the first to suggest that they try and see if the other wrestlers would talk to them or even be willing to open themselves up to outsiders. This meant that Kirby and André quickly befriended each other, respecting each other for their love of food, time alone and each other's pride in their family, heritage and culture. She's known to test how stiffly her opponents can take her moves. If she knows or trusts them she goes softer.

Voice: Jessica Hynes

Style of Wrestling: Highflyer

Regular Moves: double leg drop (to the gut/groin), diving leg drop, sitout inverted suplex slam, plancha, mulekick, Feeding Frenzy (wild punches to the gut), Organ Grinder (dropkick), Hungry for Blood (diving clothesline), Consummation (rope aided corner dropkick), Number of the Beast (tiger feint kick from between the middle and lowest ropes), Vampire's Bite (Sitout Jawbreaker), Butcher's Knife (open-handed chops)

Finishers: Overfeeding (High-Angle senton bomb), Cheshire Grin (Inverted facelock neckbreaker slam), Let Them Eat Cake (Banzai Drop), Giantess Splash (Splash into a pin)

Commentary Nickname: The Ogress (usually), fourth of the seven (rare occasions - whole group scenes)

Refers to Her Fans as: The Gluttonous, The Gluttonous ones

#Lucifarians #Wrestling Family #wrestling fic #original character

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edgeofmyniall · 5 years

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four.

fic page

When Niall woke up, he stared up to the ceiling fan that spun slowly. His vision was a tad blurry, probably from the overwear of his contacts-he didn’t take them out last night. He barely remembered Lincoln, whatever his name was, basically all but carrying him inside his house. But what really worried Niall was that he had to pee. He sat up, stretching his arm out and yawn before getting up to find the closest bathroom. When he stood, he felt a sudden chill ran through him. He looked down noticing that he was in his underwear. He had forgotten that he had stripped himself of his clothing after his samaritan had gone upstairs. He wondered around the couch quickly finding the hallway bathroom just across from the stairs.

Niall began splashing cold water on his face, praying his bike would be fixed today so he can get out of this hell hole.

Kennedy awoke around eight in the morning. She had begun her usual morning routine of washing her face, making her bed, and going downstairs to fix breakfast for her and Lincoln. If anything in her life was kept and organized it would be her room, her safe place where she could escape the harsh reality of her life- she had no one.

She yawned as she walked descended to the first floor of her home. The stairs sat next to the open kitchen so she slid to the kitchen in her mix-matched socks. She was still wearing her dad’s black Metallica t-shirt that was a size too big on her and some yellow striped pajama shorts that were snug around her thighs. She turned the gas stove to heat up and bent down to get a cast iron pan from the bottom cabinet. When she reappeared from behind the white kitchen island, there stood a semi-naked stranger in her house.

He was tall, brunette, had a few days of rough travel on his face, and he was only in his underwear. “Uh, hi. I, uh, was tryin’ to find yer bathroom.”

Kennedy was shaking. Her heart was beating ridiculously fast; she thought it might explode as she raised the cast iron pan and started to yell.

“WHO ARE YOU? WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOUSE? AND WHY ARE YOU IRISH?!” Kennedy had the pan in both hands ready to swing.

Niall froze. He didn’t know what to do. He seriously thought this woman was going to kill him. He was going to die hungover as he raised both hands in surrender.

“Uh, Niall. Y-y-y-your brother, Liam. He let me stay. I’m from Ireland. Can you put the pan down now?”

“Lincoln let you stay?” Kennedy was now furious. Her own brother let a complete stranger into their home-her father’s home. “Let me guess you were at the bar last night?” Before Niall could answer, Kennedy began screaming again as she stood at the bottom of the stairs.

“LINCOLN, GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE,” Kennedy waited a few moments before yelling again. This time Kennedy looked into Niall’s eyes and yelled for her brother to come down to face the consequences of letting someone he doesn’t know sleep on their couch- the same couch that their dad would sit on while watching Sunday football, the same couch that had hidden the many contraband cigarette buds that Kennedy smoked during her middle school days. The same couch that hid Lincoln’s alcohol money and Lincoln let a complete sex predator sleep there. She lowered the pan, but her grip was still sure; one can not be careful enough. If he was an okay person, he still was standing in their den in his underwear.

Lincoln rushed down the stairs thinking there was an emergency because that would be the only logical explanation as to why his sister would wake him up this early in the morning, but when he jumped the last step and landed on the hardwood floor, his eyes met a black pan in Kennedy’s hands that are now crossed against her chest and Niall, almost naked, terrified for his life.

#niall #niall horan #niall au #niall horan au #niall fic #niall horan fic #niall fanfic #niall horan fanfic #niall fanfiction #niall horan fanfiction #murder mystery

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criticalwinking · 5 years

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ML Kennedy explains NXT WarGames!

Your guide to Saturday’s NXT: Takeover Chicago WarGames!

Currently, only four matches are listed. Survivor Series is also this weekend, which is all about (ugh) brand supremacy and hangs over everything like a wrestling Sword of Damocles. It’s Raw vs. Smackdown vs. NXT and is basically like the wrestling pro-bowl. You know, if in the NFL a team of Bears and Packers had to pretend to like each other in order to interrupt a game between the Jets and Dolphins to show the superiority of the NFC North over the AFC East?

Match one – Standard Match: Matt Riddle vs. Finn Bálor

Matt Riddle is a stoner dude-bro who wears flip flops to the ring and wrestles barefoot. Somehow he is likable enough to be the good guy here. Riddle is also a legit MMA guy who is freakishly strong and has a twitter feud where he dunks on former WCW champ Goldberg.

Finn is a skinny Irish guy who looks like he has never touched a carb in his life. He’s a former Universal Champion on the main roster who has come back to NXT to get his mojo back. Somehow, this process involves being a dickhead to everybody. You know he’s officially a bad guy because he performed the bad guy NXT ceremony (i.e. beating the shit out of Johnny Gargano.)

They are fighting because Finn says that NXT has been overrun with children since he left. Man-child Matt Riddle takes umbrage to that statement.

Match two – Triple Threat: Pete Dunne vs. Damian Priest vs. Killian Dain

Pete Dunne is an Englishman who likes nothing more than to break people’s fingers. He is a tough guy and weighs less than 15 stone, therefore he is called the Bruiserweight.

Damian Priest is a tall, tattooed, and lanky Latino. His gimmick is that he looks like a vampire and shoots invisible arrows (question mark). He’s relatively new to the brand and trying to make a name for himself despite being the oldest guy in the match.

Killian Dane is basically a human/grizzly bear hybrid from Northern Ireland. He was part of an Anarchist group called Sanity that got called up to the main roster and promptly forgotten about. He likes to hang out in dark rooms and project movies.

Priest and Dunne have had some matches where each one has won by hitting the other in the dick. Dunne passed Dain on the ramp once, didn’t like how he looked at him, and broke Dain’s fingers. Dain and Priest hate each other because each of them wants to murder Dunne and they are. . . bad at sharing, I guess.

Match three – WARGAMES: Rhea Ripley, Candice LeRae, Tegan Nox, and Mia Yim vs. Shayna Baszler, Io Shirai, Bianca Belair, and Kay Lee Ray

This is the first Wargames match. Wargames is like a tag team match, but with no tags. There are two rings next to each other with one oblong cage covering the whole thing.

The first team are the goodies and the second team are the baddies.

Rhea Ripley is the team captain of the goodies. She’s a badass, kinda butch lady who wears a leather jacket to the ring. She’s the tallest one of these ladies at 5’9” and has a pair of shoulders like Captain America. (It’s a trick though, she’s Australian.) She was the women’s champ on NXT UK, which is a thing, and now she is on NXT USA which is just called NXT. She wants a shot at Shayna’s NXT women’s title.

Candice LeRae is a blonde lady and a very good wrestler. She’s finally been allowed to be a character on the show aside from Johnny Gargano’s concerned wife. She’s a white meat babyface who likes to stand up to bullies or whatever. LeRae was helping out Io Shirai when Shirai was feuding with Shayne Baszler. Io lost that feud and snapped, which lead to Io beating the hell out of Candice and turn full supervillain. Candice had a shot at Shayna’s title, but came up a little short.

Tegan Nox is recently back from a long-ish injury. She’s Welsh, likes to kick, and has an infatuation with Kane. She is friends/ partners with a fellow kick enthusiast named Dakota Kai. (Kai was not invited onto the team because Shayna Baszler always eats her lunch and has done some sort of long term psychological damage to her psyche. Nox’s response to this was basically, “sorry your mom wouldn’t let you go to the prom, anyways here is my dress.”)

Mia Yim is a black and Asian lady with blue hair. She calls herself HBIC and pretends the B stands for Baddie. Yim basically took Dakota Kai’s spot by not being afraid of Shayna Baszler. Yim came close to beating Shayna a few months ago by taking every short cut in the book and basically cheating her ass off. Shayna has previously offered Yim a job as one of her flunkies. (Shayna has two flunkies, neither of which she trusts enough to put on her WarGames team.)

Shayna Baszler is the captain of the baddies. She’s a badass, kinda butch lady who wears a leather jacket to the ring. Shayna is Ronda Rousey’s friend and basically better than her. She has been champion forever now, and hasn’t really lost a match to anybody that is still in NXT. Shayna is my birthday twin and sounds like Binky Barnes (1) when she talks. She’s the best.

Io Shirai, the genius of the sky, is a tiny Japanese lady who is basically the most dangerous person on the show. She will murder you. She hates Candice LeRae because Candice tried to be her friend. She recently busted up Mia Yim’s nose with a ladder. She and Rhea have been in each other’s faces a lot as both think they deserve to be number one contender to Shayna’s title. I would not expect her to work well with others.

Bianca Belair is the E S T of NXT. She calls herself this as she proclaims to be the greatest, strongest and other words that end with those three letters. She is incredibly strong and athletic, and she will whip you with her long ass braid if you get on her nerves. She also thinks she should be the number one contender to Shayna’s title and came as close to beating Shayna as anybody not named Kairi Sane. She’s egotistical but not really malicious.

Kay Lee Ray is the NXT UK women’s champ. She doesn’t even go to this school. She is Scottish, skinny and a third thing. She wants to be on the baddies team for reasons.

Match four – Men’s WarGames: The Undisputed Era (Adam Cole, Bobby Fish, Kyle O'Reilly and Roderick Strong) vs. Tommaso Ciampa, Keith Lee, Dominik Dijakovic, and TBA

Individually, the second team (the goodies) would seem to have the advantage. However, the Undisputed Era (the baddies) have an edge due to the power of scumbag friendship. (Friendship is a bad guy quality in WWE for some reason.)

The Undisputed Era is a team of 4 different kinds of douchebags. They currently have all the men’s championships in NXT. I’ve heard them described as Millennial nWo. But unlike the original, each member of the Undisputed Era seems to both enjoy wrestling and be good at it.

Adam Cole is their leader and the heavyweight champion. He’s skinny, has long hair, and says “baby.” He’s the sort of guy who would bring a signed photo of himself to the Christmas party’s pirate exchange.

Fish and O’Reilly are the tag champs. O’Reilly is basically a white version of Genan Shiranui (2) from Samurai Shodown minus the Freddy Kreuger glove. He likes to strum his belt like an air guitar and is affectionately (?) referred to as Scumbag Kyle. Fish has a hipster mustache. . . and. . . is also a member of Undisputed Era.

Roderick Strong has the look and personality of a K-mart ripoff version of a 1980s action figure, and is almost as tall. He wrestles like an annoying AI in a WWE video game. He does 100 different versions of a backbreaker and is thus called the “Messiah of the Backbreaker” which is a nickname that I think is part of the war on Christmas.

Leading the good guy team is Tommaso Ciampa, evil made flesh. But, he’s recently back from an injury and is thus a good guy. He’s bald, has a beard, and loves violence more than god, family or country. I believe if you shot him with a cannon, he would still kick out at 2.

Keith Lee used to play defensive end for Texas A&M. Picture a guy who used to play defensive end for Texas A&M, now make no changes to that image. He’s 6’2” over 300lbs, can do just about anything in a wrestling ring, and by all rights should be able to toss any member of the Undisputed Era into the upper balcony any time he wants.

Dominik Dijakovic is Keith Lee’s blood rival. He’s 6’7” 270lbs and is basically Sagat (3) from Street Fighter if Sagat from Street Fighter was from Worcester, Massachusetts.

The fourth member of the team is as yet unannounced.

***

There you have it! No titles are on the line, every match is people who dislike each other are going to settle their differences through violence, even if they have to team up with people they hate.

Also, there are two other rosters worth of wrestlers in town ready to fuck shit up for no reason other than brand supremacy.

What could go wrong?!

(notes:

1. https://arthur.fandom.com/wiki/Binky_Barnes

2. https://snk.fandom.com/wiki/Genan_Shiranui

3. https://streetfighter.fandom.com/wiki/Sagat

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ofhvney · 5 years

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y’all... this shit is a mess. welcome to the thunderdome ! i’m emily, i’m 21, from the est timezone, and i use she / her pronouns. i legit wrote my app today skdlgdsg so i’m still figuring my boy out, but i’m so excited to be here ! enjoy !

name: ulysses “honey” kennedy.

skeleton: the black hole.

faceclaim: alex fitzalan.

gender & pronouns: cismale, he/him.

age: twenty-two.

major: criminal justice. he likes the irony.

clubs: he’s not much of a joiner.

living arrangement: apt 004 w/ jonah rivera.

employment: unemployed.

BACKGROUND !

welcome to my garbage son. he doesn’t like u, but i do !

he’s from detroit but... u and ur mom don’t know him. homeboy grew up in a nightmare of a home with a nightmare of a father, so he didn’t get out much.

and we’re off to a great start, kids !

the one bright spot in his life was his mom. she was always kind and caring, offering him sweet words and soft touches where his father gave him nothing but harsh reprimands and scars. she was the one that originally gave him the nickname honey ! it’s the only thing he goes by – most people probs don’t even know his name is ulysses ( which, lol, he wants to keep it that way. what a mouthful. goddamn ).

like tbh a lot of his childhood was just... messy. he was afraid a lot. it was no bueno.

so, uh, daddy issues is the understatement of the century.

to make things worse, his mom died at the end of his senior year of high school. not long after, honey noped the fuck out of his father’s house, telling the old man deuces and fucking right off to st etienne.

as with most things in his life, honey’s time at st etienne has been a rocky one.

he’s just... such an instigator lmao like he tells himself be chill ! just go to class ! but he can’t help himself from making snarky remarks and goading people on. it’s a sickness.

skulks about a lot ?? usually causing trouble in one way or another, probably mouthing off to a professor before he goes and day drinks on the quad.

honey vc #fuckthepolice

honey, ur a little bitch ass white boy. shut up.

PERSONALITY & ETC !

a rude ass bitch. he can def be pretty cruel – he’s got a smart mouth that’s really good at starting fights, but not always best at finishing them. he’s scrappy tho and he’s usually got a knife on him so... watch out.

straight up decked his group leader during orientation freshman year bc he didn’t want to talk about himself during icebreakers lmao.

drives a harley night rod, because of course he does.

drink of choice is an irish car bomb, because of course it is.

chain smokes like his life depends on it.

literally covered in tattoos and scars. name a body part, he’ll name you the tattoo and / or scar.

thinks he’s hot shit. the endless arrogance is definitely 100% a coping mechanism of some kind, but he pushes people down and out before they have any chance to get close enough to figure that out.

cutting people off is an art form, and honey might as well be michelangelo !

in conclusion plot with me xoxo

#veritasintro #— about.#me ? a Mess

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mymelancholiesblues · 5 years

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Just wondering, what your head canon for Leon's family?

Oh my god, I was planning to post this huge compilation of my RE Headcanons soon (starting with what I have for Leon) when I got your ask’s notification. Are you a mind reader? Hahaha. But really, thank you for providing me with a justification to start posting them.

I would like to please invite you to sit because I have plenty – honestly PLENTY – of things to share over this specific matter (Leon’s family). And, of course, to ask you to bear with me through them.

For anyone else whose interest might be picked over this: keep in mind that these are (obviously) my headcanons for Leon’s background and family and in no way is anyone else under the obligation to accept nor fully agree with them.

I wrote them down because I think A LOT about storytelling devices, stories structures, characterization and characters studies, world-building, fiction tropes, etc. and, since I’ve been a Resident Evil fan from age eight to this day, I also tend to spend a lot of time thinking about its characters – and the overall rest of its lore. Furthermore, as a way to help me write them in fanfictions or even in meta-analysis, I’m always thinking of what would make sense within these characters narratives and to their personalities.

Anyway. Back to Leon and his family!

There’s a very solid theory in RE Fandom that Raccoon City is set in Missouri. I really take this into account when I think about RE Characters because it helps me “placing them” before Raccoon, since not all of them were originally born/living there. Leon, for example, according to canon material, only decided to apply to be a police officer in Raccoon because “he was intrigued by the bizarre murders cases in Raccoon City” going in the news.

Because of this, *my* Leon S. Kennedy:

– Was born in small Galena/Illinois. His parents moved to Chicago/IL when he was around 8;

– So, huge fan of the Chicago Bears (and the Chicago Bulls);

– Leon was lovingly raised by a very Catholic couple, Liliana and Isaac;

– Since Kennedy and Scott are, respectively, an Irish surname and a Scottish name and Leon is not an unusual name in Polish (check out about Polish Americans in Illinois and you’ll have a more proper comprehension of my thought process) and German cultures, I think Isaac would be a man of mixed Irish and Scottish heritage, and Liliana of Polish and German heritage;

– Although, his biological parents were actually Roberto (Italo-American punk) and Abigail, Liliana’s youngest sister;

– Robby was a drunken deadbeat, while Abbie was an airhead obsessively in love. Leon was conceived when they were both very young – his mom had sixteen and his dad eighteen;

– Liliana had three daughters (ages 10, 13 and 15) by then (1977), but she and Isaac always dreamed of having a little boy. They even tried to, but the attempts led to miscarriage after miscarriage, so when Abbie gave birth to Leon, the couple was pretty much devoted to their nephew, always visiting to see him and make sure he was properly being taken care of;

– Robby took note of all that and when Leon was only barely one year old, he packed his and Abbie’s stuff and imposed that he was leaving and that she should go with him, leaving the baby behind, telling her that surely Liliana would raise him as if he were hers;

– Indeed she did, albeit feeling distraught by her sister’s complete negligence;

– Isaac adored the boy, and Leon’s three cousins always treated him as their little brother;

– Also: Liliana decided she wanted to erase Abbie’s true connection to Leon, so she got rid of all the photographies that led to those deductions, leaving only the ones that showed baby Leon alone or the ones with the rest of his relatives, but not with his biological parents. Isaac never agreed with this, though. He believed that once Leon got older, he had the right to know his origins, believing that if their love for the boy was true he’d love them back and recognise their role in his life, so there was no need to lie. Thus, he kept a photo that featured Robby resting a hand in Abbie’s shoulder while she was breast-feeding Leon;

– Isaac was very ill when Leon was nearing his eighteenth birthday, and passed away just five months prior to Leon turning nineteen (Isaac was sixty-three years old by his time of death). Leon found that hidden photo after Isaac’s death since his dad left most of his personal belongings to Leon;

– Leon never confronted his mother on it, putting together two and two and realising his biological parents haven’t thought twice before abandoning him, so he shouldn’t bother with them either as he was raised in a genuinely loving and supportive family;

– As I said, Leon has three older sisters: Lydia (born 1962), Meryl (born 1964) and Olivia (born 1967). Two nephews from Lyds’ side, and a niece from Liv’s;

– Parents personalities: I picture Leon’s dad as a mixture of both Jonathan Kent (DC Comics) and Eddard Stark (ASoIaF). A firm, caring, kind, upfront and sincere man with high moral values, strong ethics and unwavering sense of justice, who valued honesty above all else and always believed in the best of people and in helping others, true to the “love your neighbour as yourself” commandment. Liliana was the more stern parent (especially with Lydia, always wanting and expecting her to set out a good example for her siblings), so I picture her as a fierce, proud and honest woman, passionately protective and supportive of her family, that dedicated herself entirely to whatever she put her mind into (domestic activities, city projects, EVERYTHING);

– Lydia would be the “Patricia Arquette’s character in Boyhood (2014)” kind of woman. Kind-hearted, hardworking and amazing, but guilty as charged of the serious flaw of always being romantically involved with scumbags. A Geriatric Nurse, divorced twice, mother to Kilian and Luke – both kids from her first marriage;

– By the way, Kilian is a problem-child and Lucas is the emo kid. Leon has trouble dealing with both;

– On top of it, Leon have several difficulties dealing with Lydia. Being the most distant from him in age terms, Lydia always came off as a bit distant to and unnecessarily strict with him;

– Meryl is Leon’s lesbian best buddy. Confidant, a bit arrogant, always open to give advice, prone to bluntly point out faults in her loved ones and to get angry with Lydia. She graduated in architecture and is a state employee, working as an Urban Planner. Has cleaning OCD;

– Olivia is the sister Leon was closest to since it was with her he had the “smallest” age difference. Driven, headstrong, empathetic and an introvert, she’s actually the one who inspired him to join Law Enforcement and is now a detective in Massachusetts. Liv has a long-time relationship with Peter, whom she met during her childhood in school, and they have a daughter, Harriet (any coincidence with Olivia Dunham from Fringe (2008-2013) is on purpose since Olivia would be Leon’s perfect older sister, ok);

– Leon’s sense of humour takes much after his brother-in-law’s one, Peter, considering he spent a lot of time with him as he would be a frequent guest to their house;

– He fell in love for the first time when he was in middle school in his seventh grade with an eighth grade girl, Allison, who was an exceptionally good basketball player and would kick his ass in all the practice games;

– Allie has very evident native-American heritage, skin and eye colour, hair;

– It was Allie the long-time girlfriend who broke up with him right before Raccoon. She felt he was being distant even prior to his decision to be a cop in Raccoon City. In truth, what happened was that Leon feared his future being set stone too early in his life the way things were going. His wishes to have more agency over the shaping of his own destiny started driving him further and further away from Allie as he felt she was expecting their relationship to progress over time to the building of a family etc.;

– Meryl and Olivia both loved Allie and to this day they don’t get over the fact that Leon didn’t marry her;

– Leon unwillingly distanced himself from his sisters, though, only contacting them for birthday calls and holidays alike because of all of that government recruitment stuff and classified shit and also dealing with a heavy emotional load after surviving Raccoon;

– The only reason Hunnigan found out that Leon had living relatives was that Lydia called to give Leon the news of Liliana’s death in 2010 (by seventy-two years of age) on work-time. Leon, of course, was very shaken with the news;

– While Leon only knows what Ada herself lets him about her past, family, childhood and the circumstances that put her precisely where she is now, Ada knows everything there is to know about his past, family, childhood and the circumstances that placed him precisely where he is now because she’s very competent at her job and did her homework as a spy (this will die with her, but for countless times she fantasized about him confiding all of those mundane details of his life and backstory in her);

– I’m very convinced that in one of those nights Ada visited him for some hoochie coochie after like, six to eight months without seeing or talking to him at all, Leon had to break up the news that she came in in a bad time since he already planned for a Thanksgiving dinner with his sisters. Ada accepts the challenge because she’s been REALLY missing him (horny on main). Ah, and he’s quite upset with her because of that “six to eight months with no news at all” “little” issue. So, picture that. Please.

And that is all I have for “Leon’s family” headcanons. For now. As I warned: PLENTY. Hahahahaha, sorry! Hope this can provide some entertainment and delight to you.

#Leon Scott Kennedy #Leon S Kennedy #Leon Kennedy #Resident Evil #rebel-the-way #OTP: like a part of me I can't let go #レオエイ #Aeon #Leon x Ada #♥#[games]#[mine]#//#golden puppy #///#asks and answers #Aeon fandom #my headcanons

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lemonyellowsvn · 5 years

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i was tagged by @grungecryptid thank you thank you 💕🖤💕

favorite snack: mozzarella sticks

favorite place to go on vacation: i prefer long road trips

what song makes you dance immediately: PURPLE RAIN

tea or coffee? what kind? peppermint tea and coffee

do you play an instrument? no, i know a couple songs on piano tho

what’s your favorite type of personality? just chill and kind, friendly to everyone

favorite comedian? rob schneider

gummy candy or chocolate? chocolate 🖤

what did you want to be when you grew up as a kid? a rockstar lol

what’s your favorite physical feature on yourself? my hair. i’ve finally let it grow and it’s thick and messy and yesss

when was the last time you watched a movie or TV show? i watch a lot of catfish and intervention

unpopular opinion? Flyleaf is better than Paramore and they deserved better

are you scared of bugs? no

cats or dogs? both! i have a puppy named eddie vedder and he’s great

does the description of your star sign match your personality? sometimes

favorite accent? i agree with @grungecryptid those irish accents are lovely

name the first song that pops into your head? covet by basement, it’s stuck in my head

who’s the sexiest person to you? eddie vedder good god he’s dreamy

cake or pie? cake

when was the last time you read a whole book? last summer, dahmer detective by patrick kennedy

favorite junk food? honey buns, mozzarella sticks, slushees i have the munchies tbh

do you like your height? i’m 5’2, basically average so idc

apples or oranges? apples but orange juice

what’s your favorite personality trait in someone? friendly. i just love people who are just nice, you know. willing to talk to anyone, accepting, easygoing

do you like salad? yeah. i only make it at home. if my broke ass can afford to go to a restaurant i’m not getting a fucking salad 💀💀

what person inspires you the most? trixie mattel and katya zamolodchikova

what song has made you cry? songs don’t really make me cry, I’m gonna have to come back and edit this if I think of one

thank you this was fun!!! I tag @jerkwaddicus @detalmethmachine @crushingitallday @lilskies4life @nailinmyhead hope you decide to do this 💕

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dustinreidmusic · 5 years

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Mac's Wild Years: By Michael Hurtt. Originally published in Offbeat Magazine

Mac Rebennack was born in 1941. Dr. John was born in 1967. What happened in between would color his whole musical career. "In New Orleans, everything--food, music, religion, even the way people talk and act--has deep, deep roots; and, like the tangled veins of cypress roots that meander this way and that in the swamp, everything in New Orleans is interrelated, wrapped around itself in ways that aren't always obvious."--Mac Rebennack In 1967, Malcolm Rebennack, Jr., exiled to the West Coast after a final drug bust that forbid him "to go to or through New Orleans," donned face paint, glitter and plumes and emerged as Dr. John the Night Tripper. His debut album Gris-Gris, and the stage shows that followed it, hawked a brand of psychedelic New Orleans R&B that mixed Mardi Gras Indian street chants with the primal gospel of holiness churches, the pianistic funk of Professor Longhair, heavy doses of hoodoo mysticism and nearly every shred of ritualistic South Louisiana culture that he'd absorbed during his decade and a half in the New Orleans music scene. From the drag shows at the Dew Drop Inn to the electric guitar evangelizing of the Reverend Utah Smith, it was a netherworld far stranger and more colorful than anything the pioneer of voodoo rock could have dreamed up. His role in it, though often been eclipsed by his later metamorphosis, established a reputation that would inform every aspect of his later musical life. Populated by high school greasers, high-rolling gangsters, down-and-out dope fiends and jive-talking record men, it was a world that had rapidly begun evaporating with the election of District Attorney Earling Carothers "Jim" Garrison in 1961. Prior to his widely known investigation into the Kennedy assassination, Garrison made his name locally by leading a systematic crack down on Crescent City vice that padlocked night clubs, juke joints and gambling dens. He often led the raids himself, pistol in hand, and by 1963 had managed to single-handedly dismantle the around-the-clock-party that had been Rebennack's entire young life. It had been one of after-hours jam sessions that lasted well into the next day, followed by "record dates" that produced aural snapshots that just reeked with crazed rock 'n' roll atmosphere: Jerry Byrne's frantic "Lights Out" and "Carry On," Roland Stone's narcotic anthem "Junco Partner," and Mac's own sinister, tremelo-charged "Storm Warning." "If we didn't have an artist and we had some studio time we'd just be the artist," Rebennack says of the sessions that produced hundreds of singles under monikers from Ronnie and the Delinquents to Drits and Dravy. The former's 1959 "Bad Neighborhood" was a greasy period piece if there ever was one. Meant to commemorate "the end of the zoot suit era," its gleeful lines of "Lie, steal, drink all day / good folks try to keep away," was an outright celebration of the lifestyle that Garrison sought to eliminate. And the Delinquents moniker was really no joke. "When we hired Ronnie Barron to be the singer with us, he was a li'l thug," says Rebennack, who'd had remarkably bad luck with great front men thus far. "We lost more singers to the penitentiary," he says, naming nearly everyone who preceded Barron with the exception of Frankie Ford. "Deadeye went to the joint for manslaughter, Jerry Byrne fell and went up for statutory rape, then Roland Stone went up on narcotics." Local disc jockey Jim Stewart once recalled that Rebennack's teenage bands "were always high, always late." But somehow through the haze, Mac would manage to simultaneously wear the hats of talent scout, A&R man, composer, producer, arranger, session musician, and when the need arose, singer. It might have stayed that way had Barron not refused to take on the Dr. John persona, which was invented with him in mind. Rebennack had started flirting with drugs when he was 12, already well seasoned in the art of skipping school and Mass to catch the street car to the early morning R&B jams at the Brass Rail. Since his father owned an appliance store that serviced jukeboxes, his childhood was spent wearing out stacks of hillbilly, jazz and blues 78s when they came off the boxes. Schooled on "Pinetop's Boogie Woogie" by his piano-playing aunt, he soon took up the guitar. By the time rock 'n' roll hit during his freshman year at Jesuit High School, he was more than ready. At Jesuit, Rebennack formed his first band the Dominos, with Henry Guerineau, then joined Guerineau's the Spades with whom he played "the Holy Father Circuit," as he refers it, starring at CYO dances from Redemptorist in the Irish Channel to Saint Anthony's in Mid-City. His teachers were current and future Fats Domino guitarists Papoose Nelson and Roy Montrell, who took an axe to young Mac's brand new green and black Harmony guitar. "He broke it all up, called my Pa and said, 'Mr. Rebennack, I ain't teachin' your son on that piece of shit. Go pick him out something nice.' I thought I was going to get killed. My Pa was hip, though. He knew it wasn't about the guitar as much as having that guitar to bring on the gig." Montrell took Mac to a pawnshop where he picked out a Gibson that he worked off lugging appliances for his dad. "My father didn't say a word til later," Rebennack wrote in his autobiography Under a Hoodoo Moon. "Apparently Roy had taken him aside and told him, 'I taught your son a lesson, that you don't get things because of the way they look. You get them on how they work." "He had a way of teaching that kept me coming back for more. During the lesson, he strung me along with ordinary riffs--but then right at the end he'd play some killer lick, his back turned so I couldn't see his fingers, and say, 'Hey, wanna learn that shit, kid? Come back next week. Now get the fuck outta here." Having already met studio owner Cosimo Matassa, who was a friend of his father, Rebennack spent his schooldays honing his songwriting skills. "Man, I used to go to school, I had a couple of comic books where the outside cover looked like a loose leaf binder. And I'd sit there in class reading that. They thought I was doing something in school but I'd be sitting there writing songs, ripping them off from Mad or Tales from the Crypt." He'd also begun hanging out at Warren Easton High School on Canal Street, a hotbed of hip musical activity that had already birthed New Orleans first bona-fide white rock 'n' roll band, the Sparks. It was here that he first encountered saxophonist Leonard James, whose band was blasting out a set of Sam Butera songs in the school gymnasium. It turned out that James knew all about the Brass Rail too, and dug the same hard-driving sounds as Rebennack did. They were soon rehearsing at James' house in the notorious St. Roch park neighborhood with guitarist Earl Stanley--now playing the recently introduced electric bass--and drummer Paul Staehle. "Leonard lived on Robertson not too far from the park and Stanley used to live around there on Dauphine," Rebennack says. "One of the things St. Roch Park was known for was as a good cop spot. St. Roch church was famous, too, because they'd take the grease out the bells by the cemetery, mix it with some graveyard dirt and some gun powder, add extra nitrate and put that all together with Patchouli oil to make goofy dust. Now, what you did with it was according to how rank a motherfucker you were." The mysterious worlds of drugs and hoodoo fascinated young Mac, but in his new musical partners he found an even deeper magic. "Paul Staehle was bad. I remember him having drum battles with Edward Blackwell and all the top drummers. And Stanley had a finger-plucking style of guitar like Snooks did, North Mexican shit that he'd learned from his daddy. He was into Earl King and Guitar Slim just like I was. We liked those cats because they did something different." Rebennack had picked up on the flamboyance of his guitar heroes a little too acutely for the priests at Jesuit, who'd brought his high school career to a halt after a Christmas talent show where they accused him of making "lewd gyrations" with his instrument. The real beef, Henry Guerineau later told Tad Jones, was that they were playing R&B instead of big band swing or Dixieland. "At the time," he recalled, "it was heresy." Stanley, who became the Spades' guitarist after Rebennack left the band, was having his own issues over at Nicholls High. "I used to hang with the gangsters, all the tough guys," Stanley says. "I was so bad they threw me out of Nicholls but they couldn't throw me out of school. So they asked me to leave and I went to McDonough on Esplanade for a couple of months, then I quit when I was 15. That was in '55. "I didn't know Mac when he was in the Spades. I just remember seeing him playing guitar at the dances. I thought, 'That guy's pretty good.' Then I got with Leonard and through Leonard I met Mac. They had a guy playing piano with them, Hal Farrar, he went by the stage names 'King Helo Attaro' and 'Spider Boy.' Now Hal was a character, he was the character of them all; the main lunatic. He liked to drink vodka, he could care less about anything, just a wild man. He used to have this Cugat jacket he'd wear and he'd play piano and try to do all of Little Richard's stuff. He even had the little moustache. In fact, he recorded the original demo of 'I've Been Hoodood' (later to become the flip side of the Dr. John hit "Right Place, Wrong Time") with Leonard." Vocalists Wayne "Deadeye" Herring and Jerry Byrne were also drifting into the group at this point. "We used to do the old low-down blues," Herring told Jones. "There weren't too many white bands that could do it. Back then if you sat in with a black band, boy, they'd jump on your ass when you come outside. People took a dim view of that but we did it anyway." While band names revolved from the Skyliners to the Loafers to the Night Trains to the Thunderbirds, the foundation remained James, Rebennack, Stanley and Staehle. "Crippled" Eddie Hynes and Eddie Shroeder often floated in on trombone and baritone sax respectively. "Whether it was Leonard's band or my band, it was all pretty much the same crew of guys," says Rebennack, "Nothing really changed other than we changed the name of the band quite frequently. It kinda helped us get some gigs and win some talent shows. We lost them under one name and won them under another." The core foursome debuted on wax with an album of raunchy guitar and sax instrumentals, Boppin' and A Strollin' with Leonard James, recorded for Decca in 1956. Rough, ready and loose, the LP was the perfect soundtrack of noir New Orleans; at once evocative of French Quarter strip joints, high school dances and hood hangouts like the Rockery Inn. Along with discs like the Saxons' "Camel Walk' and the Sparks' "Merry Mary Lou," it stands as a testament to city's incredibly potent--but often obscured--white rock 'n' roll underground. "Leonard always took pride in combing his ducktail perfect," recalls Rebennack. "I mean, he would stand in front the mirror for an hour and then put his be-bop cap on--perfect. He had his little zoot suit pressed, more than the rest of us. We'd just wear them. They were the kind that didn't wrinkle any way. "Leonard was a great hustler. He used to walk in joints where they never had a band in their life. I remember us getting a gig in the Ninth Ward at a grocery store. Leonard conned this guy into hiring us but he wanted country music. We didn't know any country music so we'd play 'Comin' Around the Mountain' or whatever. As long as we were working, we didn't care nothing about none of the rest of it." From dives like the Club Leoma, the Blue Cat and the Jet Lounge, they moved up to the Clock on St. Charles Avenue and finally, the Brass Rail. "While we were working there Paul Gayten says, 'If y'all want to keep the gig, you're going to have to quit playing songs like the record.' And that became kind of a theme with our band. We didn't play them like the records, we played them our way." Gayten also took issue with their slightly out-of-date stage wear. "We had the same suits for so long that I don't think anybody ever considered getting new uniforms until Paul started fuckin' with us: 'Nobody wears zoot suits in Chicago; they wear continental suits.' Man, here we had all our money invested in these royal blue zoot suits. And what do we do? We got some new suits from Harry Hyman's or old man Sutton's on South Rampart--continental suits--and we wore them in Gretna when they had a gang fight at Cass's Lounge. They throwed us all in the drainage ditch out behind the joint. We ruined our new suits and we hadn't even paid for them yet! "When we worked at any of them joints on the West Bank, shit happened. At Spec's Moulin Rouge, old man Spec used to have guys walking around with pieces dressed like police but they wasn't official police, they was just guys who worked for old man Spec. Gang fights was, like, prevalent. When the Choctaw Boys and the Cherokees would have their annual beef at the Wego Inn on the Hill, it would be around Carnival. And it would be like, 'Goddamn.' You know the shit's going to happen; it's just when it's going happen. I would be trying to play close to the slot machines that were on the bandstand because I figured the slots could deal with the slugs better than me. When I saw anything that looked like it could be trouble, I'd back up toward the slots. But this is the kind of shit you had to endure back in them days because you were dealing with a bunch of crazy motherfuckers. And we were crazy, too." If there was one song that distilled the insanity into the length of a 45 RPM record, it was Rebennack's "Lights Out," cut by Jerry Byrne for Specialty in 1958. Punctuated by stop-time drum breaks, a foghorn-like saxophone riff and a searing piano solo courtesy of Art Neville, "Lights Out" has justifiably been called "the perfect rock 'n' roll song." Byrne's breakneck vocal nods to a personality so bent on bringing the house down that fights--and sometimes worse--often ensued. "Jerry was one of them suckers who worked the house," says Rebennack, "but he was a piece of work. He drove me crazy a number of times in my life. He was special with that. Hey, guys wanted to shoot me over things Jerry did. He had the ability to kick up more shit with more motherfuckers than anybody I know." In 1959, Byrne cut Mac's equally boisterous "Carry On" and then got sent to prison on a trumped-up statutory rape charge. Deadeye was already behind bars. "It was a never-ending thing," says Stanley, "just make a record and things happen, you know?" Despite the trouble, says Rebennack, "our band was really popular." They'd toured with Frankie Ford behind "Sea Cruise" and Byrne behind "Lights Out" as well as backing the traveling rock 'n' roll caravans at both the Municipal Auditorium and Pontchartrain Beach Amusement Park. And the records kept coming, from Bobby Lonero's "Little Bit" to Morgus and the Ghouls' "Morgus the Magnificent." "I don't think any of us thought that much about doing a record date," reflects Rebennack. "The gigs were the fun part. When I started working for Joe Ruffino's record company, Joe asked my daddy if I could be the president of the company and my daddy says, 'What are you crazy? This boy can't even find his fuckin' shoes!' But there were so many guys we did sessions for like Andy Blanco at Drew-blan in Morgan City and a bunch of other guys that had different little labels in the country. We played on all of Cos's Rex stuff and then we did a lot of crazy stuff all through the days we were working for Johnny Vincent over at Ace. I remember we stole 'Jimmy Crack Corn' and called it 'Ain't No Use.' We cut 'Row Your Boat' with Big Boy Myles. And I don't know how many different versions of 'Junco Partner' we cut with Roland Stone. We were some plagiarizing motherfuckers." Stone, the most prolific of Rebennack's vocalists on record, had already blazed the white R&B trail with local luminaries the Jokers when he waxed the regional smash "Just a Moment" with Rebennack in 1961. His entrance roughly coincided with the departure of Leonard James, who was replaced by Charlie Maduell after he joined the Air Force. "Charlie was just as crazy as Leonard was, but Leonard never got high. On the other hand, Charlie fit right in with the rest of us because he liked the narcotics, too. Probably the only one that wasn't a really serious drug addict was Stanley. If we were somewhere in the country, we would burglarize drug stores. When we were in the city, we forged 'scripts. We were strung out dope fiends, what the hell you going to do? There was a pharmacy on the corner of Dorgenois and Canal that used to sell to all the dope fiends. You had to go in there and ask for certain things, that's when I started getting my collection of Mad comic books together. If I got a comic book and a bag of pork rinds, that meant I wanted some opiates. Everything you ordered meant something else. We used to have so much fun that who'd have ever thought we'd wind up in jail? "My favorite gig was when Roland was singing with us and we started working at Little Club Forest on Jefferson Highway. At Club Forest, you could tell what audience hit because when all the junkies would come in, they'd just want to hear 'Junco Partner' over and over. When the whores came in they'd want to hear whatever their song was that night. So there were all these songs that fit the set. That gig was so fuckin' off the hook, so much crazy shit happened at that gig alone, I couldn't even describe it. "Between Charlie Maduell and Paul Staehle, they would always hide the stash for the band. One night they had a raid and Paul had the whole band's stash in his sock. They didn't shake us down, but the FBI came in and they emptied the joint. Somebody paid everyone's bond and before the night was over, Wes, the Jefferson Parish narc, was selling the customers back their dope in the band room! This is how out there it was. "And then Charlie went out and walked the bar and did the dance of the Seven Veils. He's out and there doing a striptease walking the bar. It's one of them gigs that's printed in my brain. And we always had what we used to call our 'band-aids' back then. Before they called them groupies, we called them band-Aids." When Stone fell for one of the young ladies a little too hard, friction arose. "I told Roland, 'Hey, listen, you can't marry this girl. She's our girl. She belongs to the band.' I thought I was doing him a favor but it backfired. He was obviously pissed." Stone showed up for his next recording session with three henchmen in tow including prizefighter Pepi Flores. "They stomped my ass. Charlie went out and got a gun and was firing in the air. I says, 'Charlie, quit shooting in the air! Shoot these motherfuckers!' He didn't even have real guns. They were replica weapons he'd loaded up! But we all went to work the next night together. Me and Charlie wound up having to wear shades and makeup to hide the black eyes. That's when I learned, hey, when it comes to matters of somebody's heart, stay the fuck out of it." The good times had to come to an end and they eventually did. Stone was busted on a narcotics charge, as was Maduell, who remains in Angola today. Within just a few years, Paul Staehle would die of a drug over dose. Rebennack's own luck ran out on Christmas Eve of 1961 when he intervened in a scuffle between Ronnie Barron and a jealous club owner who accused Barron of having an affair with his wife. "I walked in to get Ronnie at the last minute because Ronnie was like Leonard James, he'd take forever to get himself all perfect. So I go to get him and the guy's pistol-whipping him. Miss Mildred, Ronnie's mama, said if anything happened to her son on the road she was going to take a butcher knife and chop my cajones off. So I'm thinking, 'Man, if anything happens to this guy, his mama's going to fuck me up.' And hey, she was much more frightening to me than this guy was. I thought I had my hand over the handle of the gun, but it was over the barrel. I'm beating his hand on the bricks and as I'm hitting it, all of a sudden the gun went off and my finger's just about to fall off of my hand. It was hanging by a piece of skin and then I went crazy. I took Paul Staehle's ride cymbal out the case and just fucked up the guy's face. I was trying to pull his eyeballs out his head." Doctors managed to reattach the finger, but Rebennack had trouble playing guitar with the intensity he'd become known for. He concentrated on the keyboard, playing organ on virtually all of Huey Meaux's New Orleans sessions, most notably those of Barbara Lynn and Jimmy Donley. The first--and perhaps wildest--chapter of his musical career officially came to a close when he was busted and sent to federal prison in Fort Worth, Texas. Upon his release in 1965 he headed to California and his future as the Night Tripper. "You know what the kicks of it was?" Rebennack asks. "We wanted to play music so bad that we didn't ever think about it. We were trying to make a hustle just off of the gigs and that was part of the fun of it. Everything we done, we had fun doing it. That was the one thing that I always treasured about them days. It was just something that happened. When you're young and crazy and stupid, you do a lot of crazy, stupid shit. But a lot of that shit is great because you're too stupid to know better. I know that we made it a point to always have kicks, to always have good times no matter what was going to go down. We never thought, 'Oh, this is a suck-ass gig we're going on.' We went on all kinds of suck-ass gigs! But while we were doing them, we had a ball."

#drjohn #neworleans

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drivc · 5 years

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T R A I T S

+ determined - cynical + generous - egotistical + hard working - obnoxcious

B I O G R A P H Y

born and raised in ontario, canada

he grew up in a fairly stable nuclear family– his parents are still together now, though upon retiring they now live in an adorable little cottage on the coast of cornwall in england with their own small farm. lucky for some, eh?

reuben thought he was destined to become something and since a child he’d always wanted to become a musician. he’d skip out on classes to go and busk in the streets of his town, only to be chased away by policemen demanding a busking licence (which of course he didn’t have)

but whilst everybody around him was growing up, going to university and really making it– reuben was still playing tiny pubs and clubs to a handful of people (the majority of them friends that pitied his attempts).

he refused to give up, and eventually in his early twenties he was signed to a record label that decided to take a chance on him and market him for all he was worth. they used his image rather than his vocal ability, knowing that he would appeal to a variety because of his attractive features. it was how the industry seemed to work– find a pretty face and the records should sell with it.

quickly, reuben was snapped up into his five minutes of fame as his debut album peaked at no. 5 in the official album chart. it was a big deal. he dipped into the lavish, luxury lifestyle of celebrities and found himself falling in love with a fellow musician named aoife– a gorgeous irish bombshell who was breaking out onto the scene.

the two were quick to marry, reuben convinced that this was it. this was his forever.

but despite how much he tried to fake it, reuben wasn’t anything special. he was a mediocre at best singer/songwriter and eventually after his second album failed to chart, reuben was dropped just like that.

with no success, he quickly fell into a dark depression and soon enough aoife left him, unable to cope with his self-pitying for much longer.

with little money to his name and out of sheer panic, reuben eventually took out a mature student loan and sent his ass to university to acquire a music business qualification.

despite having minimal success as a musician, reuben knew enough to have the knowledge to be behind the scenes for a record label and become a marketing manager

throughout his career he’s worked for both independent and major labels and has had the opportunity to work with rising artists such as sam fender, dermot kennedy and the star that’s now billie eilish

he’s often jealous that he creates the success that he only had the smallest taste of

now, reuben is often found looming around the homegrown coffee shops wearing chunky knit jumpers and a pair of glasses as if to make himself feel more sophisticated

he tries to maintain a vegan lifestyle (but if anything it’s to seem ‘hip’ rather than having a conscious, and if you catch him drunk - which is most evenings - he’ll never say no to a chicken nugget)

#indie rp #{ bio : reuben }

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lenfazreads · 6 years

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My Manaconda brings all the fans to the yard

So, as you might know, some of us decided to read together this wonderful piece of literary art called Manaconda.

I don’t know who found the book originally-.- yeah, as if you’ve ever believed that one.

Here’s my take on Manaconda (under the cut for spoilers)

The pain is real for Hunter *Manaconda* Jordan. He has it all: a successful band with a killer new album, a killer body, good looks and a great brother (we will come back to the brother, several times.) But yet, all goes down the drain when Rolling Stone decides to put him in the cover shirtless and with the caption of Manaconda on top of the bulge of his jeans.

Sales skyrocket, fans go crazy, and poor Hunter only wants people to see him for more than his large toolset.

Like I said, the pain is real for our hero. We have branded a term for this pain: cock angst.

Now queue in Kennedy McManus, go walks into the hotel where the band (Hammered, for crying out loud, there is no subtlety in here) is presenting it album. She walks in with high heel shoes, professional attire and an iPad with a pink case, all ready for business because Kennedy here is a career woman. Oh yes, all career, no fun for Kennedy. The only interest she has in Manaconda is how she can milk that buzz for all that is worth PR wise. She’s a PR Princess on a mission as she owns a favor to the owner of the record label, a guy that can totes make and break your career with just not naming you again. So yes, Kennedy needs to be in her A game in here, and she is as she checks social media accounts while doing a power walk and having everything under control as she finds the band manager, a woman by the name of Indie (Indie is a terrible manager, btw, but we will get to that later)

At this point we’re introduced to the rest of the band, whose names I can’t remember other than Keys (the only chick in the band) and Bats (who’s crazy as fuck, and we will go back to him over and over again). Then I think there was Wyatt, and an Irish guy… bc there is always an Irish guy (according to @winterbythesea ). Then I think there were two more, but they didn’t do nothing to be remembered… sadly, they had failed to stand out of the shadows of the manaconda long enough to grant them page-time (or their own book).

Now Kennedy has her first major task. Hunter has gone missing and she has to go fish him out of the kitchen where he’s cooking with his pal Tristan (we like Tristan, and we picture him as a cooler version of Chad Michael Murray in Gilmore Girls, as he defied his family and moved to LA to become a cool chef with blue hair.)

It all goes downhill from here. In a matter of 15 minutes between meeting him as he’s finishing putting together a bowl of pasta and the trek back to the stage Kennedy “I’m too professional so don’t call me Kenny, Mr Jordan” ends up making out in a dark corridor with the actual man of the hour after some really weird pasta eating that is supposed to be sensual but it only came out as someone had cut too many carbs out of her diet.

Of course, they get caught by a huge crowd. There are pics, social media posts and all that jazz. OF COURSE.

First plot twist: Kennedy doesn’t get fired on the spot. She actually stays for the show and doesn’t even get reprimanded by big tycoon that is supposed to be a hard ass career maker or breaker.

Sure, Jan.

Second plot twist: She kisses him again during the press conference because they are asking him about Bats hanging out with his ex-fiancee Victoria and poor Hunter is not reacting well.

She doesn’t get fired either. Actually, the suits decide she and Hunter now have to be a fake couple (fake dating!).

You can all imagine how they ended up that night… in his room. Yes, eventually. Before that there was some action on the back of a truck that was large enough for Kenny to pace (yes, I’m calling her Kenny from now on. Much like Hunter)

I’m going to stop in here and start with some bullet points because I think you get the idea.

The smut was subpar… he uses a rosary and she’s thinking more of that than what is happening in the bad. It’s a rosary, he uses it as a necklace, move on. We don’t care about the worn out walnut beads or the details of the crucifix… really, no.

He gives her six orgasms in one night. Manaconda can deliver. Point for Hunter.

Then he takes her to a breakfast buffet and tells her they had good coffee there. I have to put a stop in here. I can deal with unrealistic smut but this is too much. No breakfast buffet has decent coffee. Not unless they have a state of the art espresso machine and a well-trained barista. Let’s not lie to the people like that

The book is told in alternating first person PoV and it’s co-written. You can tell the difference in styles and it kind of makes sense if we think there are two different people, but is a rollercoaster.

The brother shows up. I’m immediately drawn to Liam Noah. His description only fuels for me to like him more. His first words to Kennedy make me want to go down on him on the spot.

Hunter and Kenny are a hot mess… they fuck and then they fight because he wants more and yet cannot deal with Bats maybe dating his ex (intro backstory drama of the cheating ex)

Kenny refuses to come second to anyone (intro backstory of her father having another family and her being a cast off) and that is why she’s a career woman, so she doesn’t end up crying over a man like her momma,

Hunter volunteers for a charity that helps people adopt dogs. He had several. Hunter is ready to settle down and he wants Kenny to play home with him and the dogs. Kenny is still figuring out how to get out of the tight professional clothes she wears

Kenny has an assistant called Carter. Carter wants to have a threesome with his girlfriend Felicity and Hunter’s brother bc Noah is that hot. I love Carter. Me too, Carter, me too.

Hunter and Bats engage in not one, but two fights in the span of three days and both times they end up with the cops. Funny enough Kennedy “you can’t call me Kenny but here’s my cop friend Remy who’s totally into me and let him call me Ken and I hug him” pulls some strings to get him off the hook. Him, not poor Bats who’s never given the chance to tell his side of the story. Neither does Vic, tho. She’s been labeled the bitch villain of the book.

Hunter then realizes he has to fight for Kenny, bc Noah makes him realize what is important after telling him he’s a good for nothing. I really don't understand why this book is not about Noah. He’d be a lot more fun than Hunter. He probably has the same equipment and none of the cock angst.

Hunter convinces Carter to let him into Kenny’s place and gets Tristan to cook for her. I like Tristan, he can slice vegetables while flirting… somehow Kenny still only has eyes for the Manaconda.

We gotta give props to Hunter for romancing the hell out of Kenny with pictures he takes while on tour framed in glass and little notes underneath, lovely texts and a plain old move out of Say Anything that almost bumped him with Noah’s on top of the list. Almost. Like I said, Noah still wins. A lot less baggage and a lot more game if you ask me (he works security and is an ex-Army. Go Noah. Come to mamma)

The words cock and dick are used as interchangeable... this is not good. is either one or the other... and it should be cock. I can’t with dick... it is used as an insult; so if a dick is an idiot, a dick cannot be a wonderful specimen of a male organ

You know your novel has a problem when people are more engaged with your secondary characters than your main ones. That is not a bad thing per se if you are laying out the ground for the series (These things are always a series) but sadly, there are no books planned for Noah, Tristan or Bats. Next books are about Keys, Wyatt and Irish Guy.

Kennedy has a weird fixation on wood. The rosary makes another appearance.

“Pound” is used several times in the book, so much that I want to have a drinking game over it.

I still want to know what the fuck is going on with Bats and Vic.

Noah needs his own book.

All in all, at the end of the day, Hunter Jordan was just a guy with a huge bulge on his pants and a pack of adopted dogs, standing in front of a girl career woman, asking her to love him (and not just his manaconda).

#manaconda #book reviews #this was one hell of a ride

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rjt4 · 7 years

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Somebody Blew Up America by Amiri Baraka

They say its some terrorist, some barbaric A Rab, in Afghanistan It wasn’t our American terrorists It wasn’t the Klan or the Skin heads Or the them that blows up nigger Churches, or reincarnates us on Death Row It wasn’t Trent Lott Or David Duke or Giuliani Or Schundler, Helms retiring

It wasn’t The gonorrhea in costume The white sheet diseases That have murdered black people Terrorized reason and sanity Most of humanity, as they pleases

They say (who say?) Who do the saying Who is them paying Who tell the lies Who in disguise Who had the slaves Who got the bux out the Bucks

Who got fat from plantations Who genocided Indians Tried to waste the Black nation

Who live on Wall Street The first plantation Who cut your nuts off Who rape your ma Who lynched your pa

Who got the tar, who got the feathers Who had the match, who set the fires Who killed and hired Who say they God & still be the Devil

Who the biggest only Who the most goodest Who do Jesus resemble

Who created everything Who the smartest Who the greatest Who the richest Who say you ugly and they the goodlookingest

Who define art Who define science

Who made the bombs Who made the guns

Who bought the slaves, who sold them

Who called you them names Who say Dahmer wasn’t insane

Who? Who? Who?

Who stole Puerto Rico Who stole the Indies, the Philipines, Manhattan Australia & The Hebrides Who forced opium on the Chinese

Who own them buildings Who got the money Who think you funny Who locked you up Who own the papers

Who owned the slave ship Who run the army

Who the fake president Who the ruler Who the banker

Who? Who? Who?

Who own the mine Who twist your mind Who got bread Who need peace Who you think need war

Who own the oil Who do no toil Who own the soil Who is not a nigger Who is so great ain’t nobody bigger

Who own this city

Who own the air Who own the water

Who own your crib Who rob and steal and cheat and murder and make lies the truth Who call you uncouth

Who live in the biggest house Who do the biggest crime Who go on vacation anytime

Who killed the most niggers Who killed the most Jews Who killed the most Italians Who killed the most Irish Who killed the most Africans Who killed the most Japanese Who killed the most Latinos

Who? Who? Who?

Who own the ocean

Who own the airplanes Who own the malls Who own television Who own radio

Who own what ain’t even known to be owned Who own the owners that ain’t the real owners

Who own the suburbs Who suck the cities Who make the laws

Who made Bush president Who believe the confederate flag need to be flying Who talk about democracy and be lying

Who the Beast in Revelations Who 666 Who know who decide Jesus get crucified

Who the Devil on the real side Who got rich from Armenian genocide

Who the biggest terrorist Who change the bible Who killed the most people Who do the most evil Who don’t worry about survival

Who have the colonies Who stole the most land Who rule the world Who say they good but only do evil Who the biggest executioner

Who? Who? Who?

Who own the oil Who want more oil Who told you what you think that later you find out a lie

Who? Who? Who?

Who found Bin Laden, maybe they Satan Who pay the CIA, Who knew the bomb was gonna blow Who know why the terrorists Learned to fly in Florida, San Diego

Who know why Five Israelis was filming the explosion And cracking they sides at the notion

Who need fossil fuel when the sun ain’t goin’ nowhere

Who invaded Grenada Who made money from apartheid Who keep the Irish a colony Who overthrow Chile and Nicaragua later

Who killed David Sibeko, Chris Hani, the same ones who killed Biko, Cabral, Neruda, Allende, Che Guevara, Sandino,

Who killed Kabila, the ones who wasted Lumumba, Mondlane, Betty Shabazz, Die, Princess Di, Ralph Featherstone, Little Bobby

Who locked up Mandela, Dhoruba, Geronimo, Assata, Mumia, Garvey, Dashiell Hammett, Alphaeus Hutton

Who killed Huey Newton, Fred Hampton, Medgar Evers, Mikey Smith, Walter Rodney, Was it the ones who tried to poison Fidel Who tried to keep the Vietnamese Oppressed

Who put a price on Lenin’s head

Who put the Jews in ovens, and who helped them do it Who said “America First” and ok’d the yellow stars

Who killed Rosa Luxembourg, Liebneckt Who murdered the Rosenbergs And all the good people iced, tortured, assassinated, vanished

Who got rich from Algeria, Libya, Haiti, Iran, Iraq, Saudi, Kuwait, Lebanon, Syria, Egypt, Jordan, Palestine,

Who cut off peoples hands in the Congo Who invented Aids Who put the germs In the Indians’ blankets Who thought up “The Trail of Tears”

Who blew up the Maine & started the Spanish American War Who got Sharon back in Power Who backed Batista, Hitler, Bilbo, Chiang kai Chek

Who decided Affirmative Action had to go Reconstruction, The New Deal, The New Frontier, The Great Society,

Who do Tom Ass Clarence Work for Who doo doo come out the Colon’s mouth Who know what kind of Skeeza is a Condoleeza Who pay Connelly to be a wooden negro Who give Genius Awards to Homo Locus Subsidere

Who overthrew Nkrumah, Bishop, Who poison Robeson, who try to put DuBois in Jail Who frame Rap Jamil al Amin, Who frame the Rosenbergs, Garvey, The Scottsboro Boys, The Hollywood Ten

Who set the Reichstag Fire

Who knew the World Trade Center was gonna get bombed Who told 4000 Israeli workers at the Twin Towers To stay home that day Why did Sharon stay away?

Who? Who? Who?

Explosion of Owl the newspaper say The devil face cd be seen

Who is the ruler of Hell? Who is the most powerful

Who you know ever Seen God?

But everybody seen The Devil

Like the acid vomit of the fire of Hell Who and Who and WHO who who Whoooo and Whooooooooooooooooooooo!

#amiri baraka #leroi jones #newark #poetry #afrocentric

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