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whatstruthgottodowithit · 1 year

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Does He Love You?

Fandom: Elvis, Elvis Presley, Elvis 2022, RPF

Pairing: Elvis Presley x Female Reader, Elvis Presley x Ann-Margaret

Characters: Elvis Presley, Female Reader, Ann-Margaret, Jerry Schilling, Joe Esposito, Red West, Sonny West, Colonel Tom Parker

Word Count: 3225

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Does he love you, like he loves me?

Tags/Warnings: Request, Requested Fic, Vaginal Sex, Kissing, Arguing, Cheating, Infidelity, Drunk Arguments, Betrayal, Angst, Hurt, Affairs, Established Relationship, Reba Song

Notes: This kinda reminded me of a Reba song at the end. It was giving me Jolene vibes but Ann Margaret knew they weren’t meant to be im sure.

Elvis Tags: @caitlin1996 @literally-just-elvis-fics @notstefaniepresley

Request by @elvispresleyxoxo - yes that’s completely fine! I was wondering if you could do one where reader knows elvis is cheating with ann margaret and confront him in front of all of the memphis mafia maybe even ann margaret if your comfortable with that! she tells elvis that she loves him ,shares like smutty details about there sex life ( if ann margaret is there could reader be like does he do that to you to, but again if your uncomfortable with that you don’t have to write that) , just overall a messy argument in front of everyone. but in the end elvis lashes out and takes her into another room and makes love to her and everyone can hear them she comes back like embarrassed but yk forgives him , you can choose the ending around the ann margaret situation if your comfortable writing that part x

One would think that being in a relationship with Elvis Presley would be fun. And for the most part, it is but not always. Sometimes the glitz and the glamour of Hollywood isn't parties and shows, it's dreadfully boring meetings with studio executives that come disguised as evening dinner parties. Whilst Elvis allowed the Colonel to negotiate most of the deals he was required to be present, something that no doubt allowed the Colonel to do what he wanted whilst having the excuse that Elvis never protested even though he was ten people down the table. As long as Elvis showed up the Colonel was happy but to keep Elvis happy he needed distractions. Which was why he brought friends. Members of the Mafia or me, someone he could talk to whilst they hashed out details of contracts that didn't interest him. The upside of these meetings was that they were largely comped by the networks meaning they were almost exclusively held in fancy hotels or restaurants rather than the dreary offices of Paramount. That was why tonight we would be dining at Perino's.

As we walked into the room my eyes roved over the table that was already jam-packed full of people, as ever we were the last to arrive. The majority of it was made up of men in stiff suits, business types, and members of Elvis' entourage who always tried so desperately to fit in at these things but somehow always seemed to look like boys play acting as Hollywood bigwigs. And then my eyes landed on the end of the table. On the only other woman in the room. Ann-Margaret.

Whilst Elvis' schmoozed his way through the crowd of people that had jumped up to greet him my eyes remained locked on her. Her red-golden hair was pushed back from her face, her natural makeup accentuating her large eyes and full lips in the dim ambient lighting. She looked beautiful. She was chatting to a man I didn't know seemingly unbothered by our entrance, a fact that made my heart sink. After all, why would she? She knew Elvis well. Too well. The novelty of his presence had no doubt rubbed off for her.

A million thoughts circled in my mind. What was she doing here? Had Elvis invited her? Had the network? I didn't know which of those options was worse. Either way, it signalled that she wasn't going anywhere much to my sadness. They had just debuted their first film together, Viva Las Vegas, and it was a hit. Elvis had even seemed to enjoy himself on this production which I was ecstatic for. He seemed more lenient with the scripts, happier to sing the same old songs he'd been given and altogether more enthusiastic whenever he'd called home. It was only when I flew out to Vegas for the last few days of filming I saw why.

I couldn't blame him I supposed. After all she was a beautiful, charming and magnetic woman. The press liked her. The Mafia liked her. Elvis liked her. But I couldn't bring myself to. He'd been like this before of course. No matter what I did he couldn't seem to stay true yet none of the others ever bothered me...but she did. Because I could feel the way he felt about her. The others never bothered me because I knew he didn't love them but with her? The potential was there. Another two or three films, who knew what could happen?

Tears stung at my eyes but I forced them back, going through the motions of greeting people until I could finally drop down into my seat beside Elvis. Ann-Margaret was sitting on his other side. I didn't listen to either of them as they started to talk. Instead, I grabbed the bottle of wine that had been left on the table and poured myself a large glassful, immediately sipping it down as much as I could. Neither of them even noticed.

✵✵✵

I didn't want to talk. I didn't want to even be here. As everyone laughed and joked around me I sat in silence nursing whatever number glass of wine I was up to and watching Elvis and Ann-Margaret talk. It was like slow torture. Every laugh, every coy smile, every touch of the hand was like another rock being placed on my chest until I couldn't breathe. I had to get out of there. I stood up from the table, gripping onto it for balance as the alcohol in my system hit me full on making me woozy.

'You alright honey?' Elvis said, finally noticing me. His hand gently touched the back of mine but I pulled mine out from under his.

'Fine, I just need the restroom,' I said. Elvis looked at me curiously but I didn't stay there long enough for him to ask any questions. I wanted to cry. Or scream. Or throw up. I fled to the bathroom and locked myself in the stall, trying to calm myself down. I knew there was no point getting upset. I couldn’t make a scene and I couldn’t go home not without Elvis wondering what was wrong so I put on my most composed expression and returned to the table trying to ignore the tears that threatened to spill over at any moment. I hurried my way back to my seat, noticing how the waiters had started arriving at the table placing our orders down in front of us. As a bowl full of pasta dropped into place in front of me a young waiter appeared at Elvis' side.

'Steak?' the waiter asked.

'Here,' Elvis said, allowing him to place the plate down in front of him. My eyes scanned his plate though where I expected to see a block of charcoal in place of steak I found a normal-looking piece of meat looking back at me.

'You should send that back,' I blurted out. Elvis looked at me for a second, suddenly realising I was back in the room, and shook his head.

'It's fine,' Elvis said as he picked up his napkin and dropped it on his lap.

'It's rare,' I said.

'Like I said it's fine,' Elvis said.

'You hate your food rare,' I said, utterly perplexed. It was true. Any who knew him knew that unless it was absolutely cremated Elvis wouldn't eat it. Before now he'd sent food back in restaurants up to three times until it was completely obliterated.

'It's not a big deal,' Elvis gritted out looking up the table. My voice had been louder than intended thanks to the alcohol meaning I was no longer the only one looking at him. He was now the spectacle of the show with almost everyone peering down the table at what was going on. He didn't flounder though and instead he cut a neat piece of meat off the end and though he couldn't stop himself from grimacing as blood oozed out onto his plate he hoyed it into his mouth and choked it down all the same.

'How is it?' I asked after it was gone.

'Fine,' he said, taking a sip of his iced water.

'See!' Ann said placing a dainty hand on his bicep, 'I told you it wouldn't be that bad.'

'What?' I said, confused. She looked at me with a smile though Elvis kept his head down sheepishly.

'Last time we had dinner he ordered this thing, it looked more like a tire than a piece of meat, and I told him all that burnt stuff was bad for his health,' she said, 'too many carcinogens. It's much healthier to have your meat medium or rare.'

'Yeah, I think I've heard that before,' Joe said from the side of me.

'The question is what isn't bad for you these days,' Sonny chimed in, 'though good on you for makin' EP change his mind about the bits of rubber he calls meat.'

'Yeah that's a feat in itself,' Joe said. Their conversation continued but I couldn't join in. My blood was boiling, the alcohol well and truly taking hold as I watched him. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. After years of moaning at him to eat someone that resembled an edible meal and him refusing he’d elected to make a change after one meal with her. It was like a punch to the gut. My jealousy took a hold consuming every fibre of my being. Elvis wasn't paying much attention and was instead scarfing down his pink steak punctuating it with sips of water to no doubt dilute the taste. My focus didn't land on him however, it landed across the table. I wanted to make her feel as bad as I did. To ruin her night like she had ruined mine. I could feel my words coming on fast and there was no way to stop them.

'Oh, I don't know. I wouldn’t say it’s that hard to change his mind,' I said taking a sip of wine as I rested back in my chair. I could feel several pairs of eyes land on me, including Elvis and Ann's.

'Remind me of that when I'm trying to pry him out of bed to go to the lot,' Joe chuckled.

'You just need to know how to handle him,' I said, 'ain’t that right sweetie?'

'You think you can handle me?' Elvis said quirking an eyebrow. He was playing along in front of the boys but I could see him hesitate, not knowing where I was going with it.

'Of course, though it seems like I'm not the only one. Right, Ann?' I asked with a fake smile. Ann glanced at Elvis and then back at me.

'Oh I wouldn't say I can handle him like you,' she said an embarrassed blush on her pretty face.

'But he listens to you,’ I said, ‘I mean you got him to eat something other than black steak. That’s some feat.’

‘Like I said it’s nothing,’ she said shifting awkwardly in her seat. I didn’t care though. I could feel more and more people staring curiously at me, wondering what the hell I was going on about, Elvis too but I didn’t pay them any attention.

‘How did you do it?’ I said.

‘What?’ she asked glancing at Elvis for help.

‘It’s a simple question,’ I said leaning forward and running my finger around the rim of my wine glass, ‘I mean I know how I’d do it. You know one time Elvis took me shopping and I found this beautiful Chanel number, you remember that right honey? The one with all the buttons? Anyway, he’s moaning about it telling me it looks like something a sailor would wear but me? I love it, so you know I did?’

‘What?’ Ann said quietly unable to ignore me as I watched her intently my gaze never wandering from her green eyes.

‘I got down on my knees and blew him right there in the dressing room,’ I said.

‘Y/N!’ Elvis snapped.

‘Soon got him to change his mind-’

‘That’s enough,’ Elvis said.

‘You know he can’t even see anything naval without sporting wood,’ I giggled.

‘Stop it,’ Elvis said standing up and yanking me out of my seat by my bicep. Though his grip was tight on my arm it was a good job he was holding me as I was unsteady enough that I would’ve toppled over if it hadn’t been for him.

‘What? We’re just swapping girly stories, right Annie? I bet she could tell me just how she gets you to do stuff don’t you think? I bet it’s not all that dissimilar, huh baby?’ I sneered.

‘You’re drunk,’ he said.

‘And you’re screwing your co-star,’ I said. Joe pushed my other side keeping me on balance as I yanked my arm out of Elvis’ grasp. Ann’s face paled before going deep crimson as she dropped her gaze to her lap. Elvis said nothing his face thunderous as everyone watched the pair of us just looking at each other.

‘Can’t even deny it can you?’ I said looking at him. I shook my head, grabbed the bottle of wine off the table and walked off out into the foyer. I didn’t know where I was going. The car wouldn’t be waiting and I didn’t feel like heading outside. I didn’t need to worry though as I felt a hand grasp my elbow, pushing me towards a door until I was roughly thrust through it into a storeroom of sorts. I fell inside, looking up to find Elvis standing by the door blocking my only exit.

‘What the hell do you think you’re playing at?!’ he snapped.

‘Me?! You’re fucking someone else and you’re angry at me!?’ I baulked.

‘It’s not like that,’ he said.

‘Yeah sure,’ I snorted.

‘Nothing’s going on,’ he said.

‘Nothing’s going on now? Or nothing’s ever happened,’ I said coming towards him. His jaw was tight as he looked down at me but my expression never changed. I was challenging him to tell me I was wrong.

‘It’s over,’ he said making me pull back shaking my head, ‘it has been for a while.’

‘Since I came to town and spoiled your fun?’ I said taking a swig from my bottle before setting it down on a shelf.

‘Since I remembered how much I love you,’ he said making me roll my eyes, ‘what you don’t believe me?’

‘Until I’m not around right,’ I said.

‘It’s not like that,’ he said coming towards me. I folded my arms across my chest to stop him from touching me, ‘you don’t think I know how pathetic I am? That I don’t know I’m weak? I know I’m not worth the ground you walk on and yet you still keep me around. I know I don’t deserve you Y/N…but I love you and I’m sorry.’

‘You always are,’ I said an errant tear trickling down my cheek. He moved to wrap his arms around me but I stayed still, letting his strong hold engulf me.

‘Do you love her?’ I said in almost a whisper. He was so close to me that I could feel the warmth of his breath on my face, the heat of his body matching that of my own.

‘Not as much as I love you,’ he said pressing his forehead to mine before he placed a kiss on my cheek. His lips kissed my tears away until finally, they landed on my lips. He kissed me, waiting for my permission to take it further. I tried to stop. I knew I should. But I loved him. I always would, so I moved my lips against his. He took this as a positive sign and deepened the kiss pushing me backwards until my back hit the wall. I didn’t do much of the work. His lips were everywhere all at once, touching every piece of skin they could find and leaving fire in their wake. His kisses were interspersed by murmurs of adoration as if his words could wipe away his actions for good.

‘I love you,’ he said as his hand slipped under my dress, teasing through my folds before he moved my panties to the side and slipped inside me, hoisting me up until my legs were wrapped around his waist. The wall was uncomfortable against my back but I couldn’t focus on that as Elvis’ fingers made their way to my sensitive bud, stroking it in time with his movements in and out of me. His name was all I could manage to whimper against his neck as the feeling of ecstasy started mounting in my core.

‘Baby,’ he grunted as his hips started faltering in rhythm.

‘Oh god,’ I said trembling around him with a whimper. He moved his hips in haphazard snaps against me until he groaned loudly, his breath hot and wet against my neck as he buried his face against my skin. After a moment he came round, pressing his forehead against mine. I could feel him softening inside me yet neither of us moved, my fingers tracing small circles on the nape of his neck as our breaths intermingled.

‘I love you,’ he said after a moment.

‘Enough to stop seeing her?’ I said.

‘Like I said. It’s over,’ he said pulling away from me so he could gently place me on my feet. His hand was tender against my cheek, his thumb stroking against my skin gently. I watched his face for a moment as if I would be able to tell the future from his expression alone. I knew it was pointless. I knew that whatever was going to happen in the future would happen regardless. But I loved him. With everything I had. So, I pulled away and nodded ever so slightly. He kissed the top of my head and then led me out of the storage cupboard. There weren’t many people in the foyer but those that were there were sure to know what had just transpired. Joe, Sonny, Red and Jerry congregated by the door of the dining room probably unsure of what they were supposed to be doing in Elvis' absence. That or they were forming a human barrier in case I wanted to head back inside for round two.

‘Give me a minute,’ he said squeezing my hand before he dropped it and headed over to the boys where they began talking in hushed whispers. I could feel the eyes of the waitstaff watching me as I stood in the foyer and so I quickly ducked into the restroom to freshen up. I looked a little messy. My tears had given me black smudges under my eyes and my lipstick was smudged from Elvis kissing me. I grabbed a paper towel and started to retouch the damage but I slowed my actions down as I noticed the toilet door opening.

Ann stepped out.

‘Oh,’ she said, ‘um sorry I didn't know-’

‘It’s fine,’ I said straightening up and tossing the paper towel in the trash.

‘Y/N,’ she said coming towards me offering to put a tender hand on my shoulder but I moved out of her way.

‘Don’t,’ I said. We stood there watching each other for a moment. I didn’t know what I was feeling. Anger. Sadness. Who knew? Whatever it was it felt awful and it was made even worse by the fact she looked genuinely remorseful.

‘I really am sorry,’ she said.

‘Just,’ I said my words disappearing. I didn’t know what to say. After all, how could I blame her? The charm, looks and appeal she had been lured in by was the one that kept me hooked. I couldn’t resist it any more than she could. How could I blame her for giving in to temptation?

‘I can’t lose him,’ I said. My hand was on the door handle now, my gaze locked on it as I refused to look up at her.

‘You were never going to,’ she said capturing my attention, ‘I’m not what he wants.’

‘Yeah, who’d want a gorgeous movie star, right?’ I said.

‘It's what he wants for a night. You get his mornings. His afternoons. You’re the one he calls when he’s had a bad day,’ she said, her eyes were sad though she was wearing a sympathetic smile, ‘you’re the one who’ll get his last name.’

‘I hope you’re right,’ I said and with that, I slipped out of the bathroom. Elvis looked around as I came out. He was standing with Jerry, waiting for me by the main entrance, the others sent to handle whatever needed fixing on my behalf.

‘Everything okay honey?’ he murmured as he wrapped his arm around my shoulders and led me outside.

‘Fine,’ I said with a small sigh, ‘just fine.’

#my writing #elvis #elvis presley #ann margaret #elvis presley fic #elvis fic #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis x reader fic #does he love you #request #requests #requested fic

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militantinremission · 9 months

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HipHop's 50th Anniversary: What 'Culture' are We talking about?

I was in Elementary School back on Aug. 11th 1973. My family left the West Bronx, but I spent a lot of time w/ my 'big cousins' in the Harlem River Houses. My cousin Mona babysat my brother & I, taking Us everywhere w/ her; including dates. I remember Mona taking Us to 'The Summer Of Soul Concert' in Harlem, & I remember going to a few of those Park Jams in Bronxdale & in Soundview. I think We saw more of King Mario than Kool Herc & Coke La Rock. My oldest brother formally introduced me to HipHop in the Spring of 1977. I remember coming home from School to find his Crew set up in Our Dining Room.

I got my 1st look from the 'Other Side of The Rope', & I was hooked! I wasn't a Rapper (yet), or a Break Dancer, but I had an ear for music. Like a lot of Old School Deejays (& under My brother's tutelage) I cut My teeth on Component Sets & BSR Turntables; rocking Line In switches b4 getting a [real] Mixer... I bought My own DJ Set in 1984 (B2s), & mastered my Craft as a Street DJ, & later in a few NYC Clubs. Most DJs are disciples of [Grand Master] Flash or [Grand Wizard] Theodore; I was more of a disciple of Jazzy Jay & Cut Master DC. We All have Our Unique Features, but EVERYONE went back to School when Jazzy Jeff introduced the 'Transformer Cut', back in 1986. Like a lot of DJs disenchanted w/ 'Gangsta Rap', I split time w/ HipHop's Twin Sister- House Music.

I say all of this, to qualify myself as a 'bonafide Shorty' of 1st Generation HipHop, & a full fledged Member of The New School Era. My point, is to say that 'In The Beginning', there was just The Culture. It didn't have a formal name- but it was being done ALL OVER NYC. I associate the '1520 Sedgwick Avenue' Story of HipHop w/ Afrika Bambaataa; he's The First Person that I remember telling this Story. Disco King Mario predated Kool Herc by years. Herc copied Mario's Style- down to his equipment! King Mario wasn't alone, Pete 'DJ' Jones & Frankie Crocker were dueling On The Radio (WWRL vs WBLS), while DJ Flowers, DJ Spotlight, DJ Smokey, DJ Hollywood, & a number of Club DJs were also mixing it up.

A major argument is whether Disco is connected to HipHop. The Cats up in The Bronx say HELL NO, while the rest of NYC says HELL YES! People need to understand that when We talk about 'Disco', we don't mean 'The Sound' or Studio 54; We mean 'The Disco Fever', 'Harlem World', 'Sugar Hill', & 'The Factory'. The DJs that spun @ these Clubs molded the format that HipHop DJs still follow Today. Kool Herc is credited w/ The 'Merry Go Round'- his mix of Break Beats, but he wasn't the only DJ mixing Breaks or James Brown songs. The Black Spades that were interviewed, speak on King Mario spinning 'Soul Power' & how they chanted 'Spade Power'- as early as 1971. This creates a schism between Bronxdale & Soundview.

Black Americans say HipHop started in Bronxdale, as late as 1971. West Indians- Jamaican- Americans in particular, say it started on Aug. 11th, 1973. Puerto Ricans [Nuyoricans/ Puerto Rocks] say it started between 1975 & 1977, when Afrika Bambaataa incorporated Latino Breakers into 'his' HipHop scene. While there is debate over When & Where in The Bronx it started, EVERYONE AGREES that HipHop was created to Stop Gang Violence. The Culture involves individual expression through Graffiti, B- Boy Style of Dress, & Dance, Spoken Word, & the ability to keep The Party going non-stop. The Original Gangs splintered into Crews that now 'battled' each other w/ Turntables & Mics, on the Dance floor, & w/ Spray Paint Cans (Bombing).

The vernacular of HipHop is based in The Nation Of Islam & The Nation of Gods & Earths, so it's big on Black Power, Black Excellence, & The Traditional Black Family. Both Organizations are Pan Afrikan in their Philosophy, so The Black Diaspora is represented. The same is true w/ The Zulu Nation. Before the rise of The Nation of Latin Kings & Queens, you would find Latino Zulu Kings & Queens- it was All Love! Afrika Bambaataa coined HipHop's 'Mission Statement' of: "Peace, Unity, Love, & Having Fun!", in a song w/ James Brown by the same Name. He also defined the existing '5 Elements' as the fundamentals of HipHop Culture. The Zulu Nation were the unofficial Ambassadors of HipHop; first taking it Downtown, & later taking it Globally... No One questioned Bambaataa's actions.

As We celebrate 50Yrs of HipHop, Afrika Bambaataa's Legacy is tarnished @ best. He has been Radio Silent, since allegations of Child Molestation rose against him 7Yrs ago. Every Move that Bambaataa made is being questioned- Was it a good move for HipHop to go Downtown to SoHo? Did it open the door to the current 'isms' that plague The Culture? It was a Black Specific art form, but it opened itself up to integration w/ Sexual Deviants, Drug Abusers, & White Record Executives. In retrospect, We can see what lured Bam Downtown. I'm curious- is the current manifestation of 'The Culture' Bambaataa's intended goal? It goes against his language, but it's in line w/ his actions.

In the wake of Afrika Bambaataa's 'Fall from Grace', people began questioning his narrative of HipHop. Original B- Boys are still walking The Streets, so it wasn't hard to fact check. DJ Phase has spoke on many Youtube videos under 'The Culture', where he breaks down the Foundation of what became HipHop. According to DJ Phase, HipHop was born on June 7th, 1971- in the Bronxdale Houses. He said that it wasn't organized; Mario simply set up on the grass & spun records. Later that Summer, in July- DJ Phase said that they were more organized w/ more sound & records, so THAT was when Brothers got serious about what they were doing. Disco King Mario did a series of Jams that culminated in the legendary 'Rosedale Park' Jam, that lit up The Bronx & inspired future pioneers.

There is a lot of controversy today concerning the Origins of HipHop. Jason Black, of 'The Black Authority' had the best comment on the subject: "Success has many Fathers, but Failure is an Orphan". As We question the running narrative of HipHop's birth, We also have to question WHO gets Credit for WHAT. No One questions the contributions of Jamaicans, Puerto Ricans, Cubans, Haitians, & Panamanians to The Culture, but the claims being made by Busta Rhymes, Pete Rock, Fat Joe, & John Leguizamo are disrespectful. Busta & Pete Rock assert that Jamaican Culture DIRECTLY INFLUENCED HipHop; Busta says 90%. He goes on to say that Kool Herc brought Jamaican 'Toasting' or 'Ranking' to the Bronx Youth. Fat Joe & John Leguizamo say Puerto Rico contributed 50% to The Culture... They ALL sound ridiculous.

In an effort to get ahead of King Mario predating Kool Herc, people have gone as far as saying that Disco King Mario is [half] Puerto Rican. When it was proven that Mario came from North Carolina, a Story came out that his family migrated to (Jim Crow) North Carolina back in 1912. Mario's Sister says they aren't Puerto Rican- They're North Carolinian & 'Country'... His Mother just liked the name Mario. This effort to remove Black Americans from a Black American genre is confusing. Making a contribution 'to', or an innovation 'of' something, doesn't make one 'The Originator' of it. DJ Phase made a point to elaborate on The Energy behind HipHop, & what inspired it. Our Family from The Diaspora mostly arrived after The Civil Rights Movement; They really don't know what AmeriKKKa was like before 1970.

Contrary to what Busta Rhymes, Pete Rock, or Fat Joe may say, HipHop begins w/ The Black Spades. As a boy in Harlem, I remember how revered The Black Spades were. They were respected, but I didn't understand why... Before The Black Spades, Blackfolk in The Bronx were being victimized by Whitefolk; 'Authur Avenue' Italians, in particular. According to The Black Spades, they couldn't go ANYWHERE w/o being attacked, so they organized & struck back. The Black Spades- essentially Black Teens, didn't just beat those Racists back; they opened up The Bronx for EVERY Black Person, giving them The Right of Autonomy. That Energy or Spirit of Revolution was celebrated in Song & Dance, & King Mario was The Conductor.

Kool Herc got to see King Mario & The Black Spades @ 'The Tunnel'. He heard the Breaks & saw how the Black Spades reacted... He heard 'Spade Power!'. Herc himself said that he analyzed what 'they were doing' & came up w/ The Merry Go Round. That, is an innovation. Herc never said that he introduced Toasting to those Baby Spades; in fact, Herc admitted trying to play Jamaican Music, but The Crowd didn't take to it. If Busta & Pete Rock were right, We should have some Reggae among familiar Beat Beats. All of these Cats talk about 'Culture', but they just sound ignorant. A 'Culture' is defined as: 'The sum total of Social Life'. If West Indian (i.e. Jamaican) and/or Latinx (i.e. Puerto Rican) Culture plays such a major role in HipHop, why did ALL of them adopt Black American Social Mores? Kool Herc admitted that he was clowned when he arrived in The Bronx; he thought Cowboy Boots were cool.

If we're going to run w/ the: 'Kool Herc is The Father of HipHop' Story, Coke La Rock should @ least be mentioned. He is credited w/ being The First Emcee. He was Herc's Partner. Busta & a literal Legion of Yardies want to coronate Herc as 'King of HipHop', but it was Coke La Rock that transformed 'Clive' into 'Kool Herc'. Clive DIDN'T KNOW THE CULTURE. Coke La Rock took him down to 125th Street, showed him what to buy, & how to sport it. Somehow, Coke La Rock was written out of the narrative. Again, Bambaataa started this. Another issue w/ Herc being hailed as 'The Father' of HipHop, is how easily he Bowed Down to U- Roy. Herc referred to him as 'his King'. Big Respect to U- Roy, I- Roy & ALL the Pioneers of Ska, Reggae, Lover's Rock, Dub Poetry, & Dancehall! That said, Black Americans BOW TO NO ONE! This is a Problem.

When We talk about Culture, HipHop embodies The Spirit of Revolution. Lay it out on the Black American Timeline, & it's a natural transition; from Work Songs, to Ragtime, to Jazz, to Rhythm & Blues, to Soul & Funk, to HipHop. It's the tireless spirit of Black Liberation in AmeriKKKa. Where does Jamaican or Puerto Rican 'Culture' fit in? They were 'Lovers, not Fighters'. We were Angry! What were they angry about? They were in America- Everything was 'Irie'! When DJ Phase was asked about this [Kool Herc] narrative, he cut to The Chase & said that this narrative gives Whitefolk a 'lane of claim' to Our Culture. It was Too Black, Too Strong, but it's been watered down. When We raise Our Heads, We will see that the people claiming ownership of Our Culture, are the same people representing Us in Government. They are the ones allowing Benign Neglect to continue. They also represent Us 'On Screen', but they rarely depict Us in a dignified manner; We're either Ghetto, or Cowards.

While We're on the subject of 'Culture', let's point out how the level of deviance & violence has risen w/ the number of Jamaican & Puerto Rican Rappers. Boogie Down Productions gets Full Credit for setting off the 9mm talk. Just- Ice's 'The Original Gangster of Hip Hop' was just plain Raw... Also, B- Girls didn't dress like or behave like Dancehall Girls; compare Shante, Lyte, & Latifah to Lil Kim, Nikki Minaj, & Cardi B. White Record Executives, like Lyor Cohen, have rerouted HipHop's 'messaging' to target Suburban Whitefolk eager to hear about 'Ghetto Life'. Today's Artists have been set up lovely by those who came before them, but I wonder if the New Jacks know The History? Do they know what it took for Us to maintain this? Cats had to show restraint, because Authorities were just waiting for Us to mess up. U can literally count the # of times U heard the N- Word b4 NWA... Do they know Themfolks tried to shut Us down in 1882; leading to the 'New School/ Hardcore Era' that started in 1983 w/ T- La Rock & Jazzy Jay, Run-DMC, & LL Cool J?

Truth be told, The Park Jams faded out by 1986- 1987. The Crack Wars began to make large gatherings dangerous. The 1st Crack Dealers (in My Hood) were The Dreads, who sold out of Weed Spots. The 'Rude Boys' weren't concerned w/ 'protocol', so things got Hot pretty quickly.... I understand that there is an effort to make HipHop EVERYONE'S genre, but it isn't; not anymore than Motown or Bebop. The World is welcome to enjoy HipHop, but make No Mistake- it's a Black American genre that just happens to be globally appreciated & adopted by many. That said, notions of people like Kool Herc, or Eminem being the 'Father' or 'King' diminish the effect that those 'Baby Spades' had on The Original Concept. We can appreciate their contributions, but HipHop Culture is bigger than them. It has a purpose, & it's NOT making Non Indigenous Blackfolk wealthy.

It was a youthful expression of Black Power & Creativity, but outside forces have turned it into a Golden Goose that only benefits White Record Execs & their Proxies. We treated Her like a Debutant, but She has been reduced to a Crack Whore that EVERYONE can get a piece of. Young Family has to go back to The Root. A Race War is looming, & i'm not sure that their music is up to task. Most of today's Artists are more concerned w/ their 30 pieces of silver, than The Culture it represents. Cats like Busta & Fat Joe aren't concerned, they're taking the money & running. Fat Joe wasn't even a Rapper back in The Day, he was a Stick up Kid; so he's always been about the 'Vic'. Big Pun on the other hand, was The Real Deal... HipHop has become symbolic of Black American Courtesy- We say: "have some", & Our 'guest' proceeds to help themselves to Everything. NO ONE is allowed to be more than a guest in the genres of Jamaican & Latinx Music, so why do they expect ownership in Black American Music?

When We talk about HipHop Culture, We need to remove All the noise in The Room. ANYONE making a claim to Our Culture should be Checked quickly. This 'Back to School Party' Story doesn't make sense! It's supposed to be inspirational, but it's narrated like just another Party. What's so special about it? What exactly motivated Herc's Sister to have this Party, several weeks before School started? How does this 'Party' spark a Movement? Compare it w/ HipHop being a Celebration of Black Youth in The Bronx [dramatically] winning their fight against White Supremacy & their Right of Autonomy- An UNAPOLOGETIC DISPLAY of Black Power. There was a REASON why NYPD left Mario & the Black Spades Deejays alone. When they were 'Jamming', The Black Spades weren't beating down White Racists... No disrespect, but Immigrant Family weren't Here, so they don't know what sparked this Movement.

The Original Concept of HipHop is rooted in stopping Gang Violence. It was a creative alternative to the death & destruction that We brought on each other. The current version of it is so far removed, it's almost unrecognizable. Today's manifestation is literally a Death Cult that offers little to no benefit to The Artist. White Executives seem convinced that it's only about Beats & Rhymes, but the Crap being presented is vulgar & cookie cutter; which defies HipHop's demand for Originality. After 50+Yrs, it's apparent that HipHop is best represented when it's Culturally connected to the Experience of Black American Life. EVERYONE ELSE is a House Guest & should behave accordingly.

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