Ever wonder why Ghetto-Types
[1] are typified by broken relationships, drug abuse, gang involvement, cowardice and criminality?
[1] The word 'Ghetto' is of Jewish origin from the time of Nazi Germany; so, please do not ignorantly ascribe a negative ethnic or cultural bias to me where none exists; nor should you call me to task for your own insecurities, should you be so inclined to ignore my advice.
I use 'Ghetto-Types' to describe uneducated, unmotivated, criminal urban dwellers of any skin color.
I use 'Ghetto-Mentality' to describe an ignorant attitude of anti-intellectualism, irresponsibility, unaccountability, rampant egotism and utter criminality.
I use 'urban neighborhoods' and 'Ghetto' as descriptors for those localities in which these like minds clump together to reinforce each other in their low regard for the rights and autonomy of others. These are localities in which the residents refuse to self-police "their own" inhabitants, whether it be because of fear or due to peer affiliations.
I use 'Ghetto' as the preferred descriptor because it makes for less typing...deal with it.
Ethnicity and national culture have little place in defining the utter lack of and contempt for moral fiber and self respect; therefore, my use of such terms has nothing to do with such externalities. My use of the terms is limited to describing the chosen behavioral patterns of those individuals and groups most damaging to our society within the urban geographical context.
I placed this as a topnote instead of a footnote, because most folks would rather attribute racism to me rather than read my words as addressing issues which transcend ethnicity; and such folks probably need this as a warning label on my thoughts--much in the same way they might need a warning label on a costume cape, to the effect that it will not enable the wearer to fly.
Caveat emptor.
Probably because they fill their minds with some of the most vile imagery in the guise of listening to "Inspirational Music" from urban neighborhoods; and they foist this cowardly, defeatist garbage upon the minds of their own children. Garbage that programs young minds to grab a hold of and parrot the most ridiculous of excuses for
never being a good person--for
never even trying.
Garbage that teaches that right is 'wrong', and wrong is 'right'--quite possibly adequate proof that we are, indeed, living in the end days of civilization.
Ever wonder why the Ghetto-Mentality is spreading like an epidemic?
Popular radio and the erosion of the FCC rules governing gratuitous profanity on the public airwaves probably has a lot to do with it; along with the fact that the overwhelming bulk of irresponsible and permissive parents that I've met are little more than children themselves--incapable of rational thought and self-restraint--desiring only to be "friends" with their children, in keeping with the failed Dr. Spock methods of parenting.
There's a widely celebrated and acclaimed >ahem<
artist in the R&B scene, who goes by the name of
Keyshia Cole, who is probably foremost among those who steal money from their victims; in exchange for programming their minds with some of the most immature, despicably defeatist and anti-love ideology I've ever heard in my life. The only thing that she has going for her (and, believe me, given her decided lack of talent, it ain't much) is the fact that I have not, thus far, observed that she advocates murder and anarchistic violence in her lyrics--like others of her ilk.
Like others of her ilk...just give her time.
What's wrong with this Keyshia Cole person, and what she tries to pass-off as 'music' anyway?
As to the person of Keyshia Cole, I can't hazard a guess as to what's wrong with her, other than her having come with the standard equipment of so many who infest the entertainment industry: superficiality and greed.
As to her music: in terms of melodic content and appeal to the ear, this woman is missing a lot in terms of rhythm and structure. The skeleton of the tune upon which she hangs her lyrics is unidimensional, monochromatic, repetitious and grating on the nerves. I tend to look for more than a single repeating stanza, designed for a whiny, Mariah Carey wannabe (and I hate Mariah Carey's voice), in my music.
When one considers the lyric content of her offerings, the messages they contain are deceptively vile, abysmally superficial and devoid of any higher calling or inspiration. Since one feels dirty just hearing such refuse at a distance, I can well-imagine that one must feel themselves to be psychologically abused when subjected to it in the same room.
Further, her lyrics are devoid of the kind of profanity which would put them immediately on a good parent's radar for exclusion from the home environment. This generally insures that the unaware parent will probably allow this kind of crap in the home--to damage the minds of their own children.
What do I mean?
Consider the [sarcasm] oh so inspirational and up-lifting message [/sarcasm] contained in the lyrics of Keyshia Cole's tripe-tune entitled
I Should've Cheated. Why...every parent should be clamoring to teach their children that, if they are accused wrongly, this amounts to a license to kill...shouldn't they?
After all, the only thing that matters is what somebody else thinks about you, not
what you really are...right? (The phrase, "...they have seared their conscience, as with a hot iron, that they may not embrace the truth." keeps coming back to me for some strange reason.)
...and your child will probably listen to this utter garbage because there are no parental advisory notices on the album to catch your eye.
I now have no doubt that this Keyshia Cole is right down there with the worst of the "cap-a-cop" "whack-a-Murphy" thug-arm-trophy-mentality-types after reading the content of
this piece of rubbish. Birds of a feather, as they say.
How loving and inspirational...I just gotta have a relationship like
that because it's being espoused in a song!
Hardly.
Of course, Ms. Cole teaches us the depth and fiber she possesses--that we all should posses--in evaluating the appropriateness of an individual for interpersonal interaction and possible romantic involvement with the following high standards: "
Your car is looking real smooth, and you looking kind of cute too..."
Such high standards of moral fiber! Nice car and pretty looks = upstanding citizen of high moral fiber. Somebody you definitely want to father one or two or your kids.
Not.
At any rate, Keyshia Cole's
Superstar is probably one of her less nerve-gratingly tedious songs to be subjected to unwillingly; however, if I never hear it again, it will be too soon for my preferences.
In the venue of utterly devoid of redeeming melodic qualities, we have the insanely-repetitious
Love; which speaks to the listener of nothing of the sort and, by the end of which, you will most certainly feel violently ill. I fail to see why this song ever made it past the mixing board.
Keyshia Cole's 2005 album,
'The Way It Is' is so typical of the zero-commitment, zero self-respect, Ghetto Mentality that I want to retch every time I hear any cut from the album; which would be every single time my neighbor leaves for work and her drug-abuser babysitter puts that wretched CD on, at high volume and camps-out in the shower for an hour or two with her crack pipe.
I think I finally understand what makes Ghetto-Types so violent, because I want to throttle the person playing that CD every time I hear any screeching, three-chord sampled, song from it.
Beyond the violent urges Ms. Cole's tripe-passed-off-as-music inspires in me, and considering the possibly redeeming, artistic qualities possessed by same; on balance, anything this woman does is best left on the shelf of your local music store. Save your money, and do not allow this rubbish to infest the minds of your children.
Also keep far away from somebody who uses the name 'Monica' to sow offal like
Leave Home,
Sideline Ho and
A Dozen Roses (You Remind Me) amongst the grey cells of your children.
Musically, these songs are a chore to listen to.
In terms of the message they deliver...they are pure evil, preached to the most innocently unsuspecting audience imaginable.
Beyond these two no-talent women, pandering to zero-morality life credos, there are a host of similar-thinking, similar-acting people to inspire instant revulsion in you, and should be avoided at all costs.
God help us all!
To offset this irredeemable nastiness that I have been ranting about, I leave you with:
Everybody, by Gladys Knight
and
I Promise (Wedding Song), by CeCe Winans;
because, after all, what you put into your mind is what will build your character and provide you something to offer others.
