I Certainly Like Rap More Than I Like Blind People

I’ve been listening to a lot of rap lately. I haven’t the faintest idea as to why. Usually I listen to what my wife calls, “suicide music.” My music generally consists of sad chords, depressing lyrics, and quality storytelling. Sure, Eli the Barrow Boy was killed while trying to earn enough money to buy his woman a coat, his woman who was also killed, but the song sure sounds pretty! Sometimes I think, “Hey I like this happy song,” only to find out later it’s ACTUALLY about suicide—like the Mighty Mighty Bosstones, “I Wrote It.” Here I thought a guy was writing a little love ditty to his lady cat whilst drinking in a Boston bar…nope, he’s writing a suicide note to no one particular because he alienated everyone he ever met. Those stories are so similar. I bet you easily see how I mixed up those two.

So yeah…I don’t know when I started listening to rap. I think part of it has to do with the 5:00am exercise class I take. Because we are exercising, we obviously need beats. Right? After six months straight of Lady Gaga every morning (confession: it took me two weeks to go gaga for Gaga—SUCH A GOOD JOKE), I’ve learned to really love me the beats and the synthesizers and the constant singing about doing it. It in this case being sex. Sex in this case being a non-marital encounter with anyone at a bar who will buy you a drink. A non-marital encounter with anyone at a bar who will buy you a drink in this case being Beyonce I guess? Are Gaga and Beyonce in love? Hip hop and rap are so confusing.

The beats got to me, that’s it. But being so hardcore, I couldn’t just listen to the “lovey dovey, hey let’s dance type” of beats. No. Of course not. I needed beats accompanied with mean-spirited lyrics and the constant rapping about doing it. It in this case being very naughty and disgusting and a little too detailed for my liking.

Also, rap is good to run to. It sure beats running to Beulah. Beulah is good to cry to in between rare bursts of happiness.

I do hope this doesn’t last though. Every time I pull up to a stop light I turn my music down and avoid eye contact with drivers from the other cars. I know they heard my mad beats approaching. I know they know I’m white. At least I hope they do. What I’m saying is I hope the drivers in the car next to me are not blind. If they are blind, and I knew that, I would keep my music turned up. BLIND DRIVERS: Please put stickers on your car alerting white people who listen to rap that they need not be embarrassed, you can’t see them.