You know what I spend a lot of time doing?
Trying not to read the hip-hop rumors at this certain web-site. You know what site I’m talking about, the one that gets a billion hits a day because it’s got that damned rumors page.
I used to read them religiously. Part of my morning routine was to read the rumors page while I was eating my grits. I’d start reading about the mostly untrue private exploits of hip-hop’s biggest names and before I knew it I’d be on my last spoonful of buttery goodness.
The reason for my addiction is that I dug being ahead of the knowledge curve. I liked knowing ahead of time what other people wouldn’t know until months later. I like knowing who dissed who on a mixtape, since 90% of dissing happens on mixtapes that I don’t buy. I liked knowing who had gotten robbed when they had gone back to their hood. I liked knowing who had been seen courting a tranny.
…and according to the rumors many of your favorite male rappers like women with Adam’s apples….
I liked knowing who was allegedly boning Mariah Carey, Mya, and Lindsay Lohan. I was plugged into an imaginary world of fist-fights and sex-tapes, and I loved every bit of it.
Then one day, it all became very, very ugly.
It wasn’t any one particular piece of gossip that did it…It was the realization that enjoying the personal lives of artists in this way is a little creepy. Just as creepy as the masses of disengaged folks that live by entertainment news magazines and the E! Network. It reinforces the pop-culture notion that celebrities aren’t real people.
The only reason I’m really interested in whether or not Lloyd Banks is a raging homosexual is because our media outlets, in conjunction with his record company and management, have created an image of him in my mind that would make it shocking if he were. Did you notice that when that boy band guy came out of the closet, people hardly raised an eyebrow?
Honestly, if Lloyd Banks enjoys taking it up the pooper every now and then, that’s his own damned business. Me, the rest of the world, and that unnamed web-site should stay out of it.
It’s easy for me to read about his life choices now with no regard for his personal feelings on the matter. But what happens when my music gains a little notoriety? I certainly won’t think it’s anyone’s business what me, my wife, and a stuffed alligator like to do in the confines of our own bedroom.
In other words….
…support underground hip-hop.
Open Mike Eagle.
