Super-Villain Style

I need to put some shit together like that, some weird acronym nobody’ll get except me. Maybe Brother Really Outta Kill Everybody or But Everyday You Outta Take to Cleaning your Hooch. I don’t know. That shit is hard.

I wonder how NWA came up with Niggas Wit Attitudes, or KRS came up with Knowledge Reigns Supreme Over Nearly Everyone. You gotta really be putting some thought into it.

I’ve been thinking of a new name change. A brother gotta change his name every six months to a year. I’m thinking of switching from Ronny to Julius, Julius Caesar, or Julio Caesar, or Caesar Iglesias.

Now Caesar Iglesias might be cool. I might actually name my first born son, Caesar Iglesias, Caesar Iglesias Octavius Marx. Now that would be cool. Shit. Fuck my son. I just might legally change my name to Caesar Iglesias Octavius Marx.
Maybe put a Julio in there to make it unique: Caesar Iglesias Octavius Julio Marx.

I’ll be walking down the street and dudes’ll yell out, CIOJM. I don’t how that’ll sound coming outta somebody’s mouth, but I’ll bet everybody’ll remember that shit, at least once we learn how to pronouce it.

Maybe I need to add a Z or a S in between the J and the M. What’s the name of that dude in the Producers movie. Zero? Yeah Zero, even if it ain’t his name. Zero. Caesar Iglesias Octavius Julio Zero Marx, better known as CIOJZM, or CIO-JZM.

Yeah, that’s nice.

I think that is my new name. I am now Caesar Iglesias Octavius Julio Zero Marx. Or better yet, Doctar Grace Caesar Iglesias Octavius Julio Marx, the Great. Yeah, the great. Put the great at the end to make it important. Add Grace to show respect to the coolest woman I’ve ever known. May she rest in peace. Keep the Doctar, because, well, it ain’t me if it ain’t the Doctar. And it all comes together: Doctar Grace CIO-JZM, the Great.

Goddammit, that shit’s sweet, or I’m really fucked up from being sleep deprived. Whichever’s the reason, I’m keeping it. Now it’s complete. And I feel special. Now I can live.

Well it’s the Kane in the flesh
Of course I’m fresh
Oh you thought that I was rotten?
Huh, I beg your pardon
To me getting paid and getting busy fall together
So a man of my ambiance…never!
Could I be weak, why I’m rather unique
I got style, flavor, grace, and plus a different technique
That I be using and not many can manage
So a brother like me, I do damage
Just by picking up the mic to go solo
I cold turn a party on out, and oh yo
I get physical, mystical, very artistical
Giving party people something funky to listen to

Kane liked to rap about the cootch. I see myself as a man similar to King Asiatic, except without all the good looks, possibly more in line with J-Zone’s Kill Pretty. Maybe something like Pretty Taint, or King Pretty Taint. Maybe TaintMaster, or Master Tainter, the masturbator. Or Masta Badar, played by James Earl Jones.

I actually wanted to mix a little Kane and Lyte together but that all fell apart. I recorded shit a little bit at a time over the past week or so. Most of my Kane and Lyte shit is either on vinyl or cassette. In fact, all of my Kane or Lyte shit is on vinyl or cassette. Unfortunately, my computer was acting funny. There were skips in the recordings. I used to be able to record shit. Now, all of a sudden, I can’t. Maybe my hard drive is conking out. Or maybe my cpu was busy doing some other shit. I might have a virus, which I doubt. Or it just might be Service Pack 2. I’ll blame anything on Microsoft.

We bitch about sound quality today, but cassettes were the shit. I could get at least three cassettes for about 20 bucks back in the day. Most vinyl was 10 dollars or more. And vinyl wasn’t portable. A cassette and a Walkman was all a brother needed back in the day. It was the mp3 of the golden age. You could dub a friend’s tape to a Maxell, or if you were broke, a Tonemaster. About a fourth of all my albums are dubbed tapes. My first Run DMC, Beatie Boys, LL Cool J. Nirvana’s Bleach. A boatload of Pixies bullshit. All on that sweet science we all call analog.

Now, most of my tapes sit in shoeboxes in the closet. No casings, no nothing. I keep the important shit stored right, but I’m sure that old songs and mixtapes are deteriorating as we speak because my love for the cassette has passed. I can’t remember the last time I actually taped something that wasn’t being recorded to my computer. Mp3s are the new way. Radio shows, songs, created through mp3 encoding and stored on a disc. Funny thing. I’m actually starting to treat my cds like I treat my cassettes.

Frisbee, anyone?

Recently

You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.
You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.