nothing to lose — mother fucker Jews in Israel Have Set the fucking world on fire, but fuck them all and the horse they rode into town on!
Fast Car — Does it hard, man, and forget that rabbi-dude Springstein, man, lets. do Tracy Chapman. I gut my teeth on the jazz artists, the long hairs, the blue boys and some girls, and the rockers.
Lots of music at the U of Arizona, where a shit load of musicians showed up, and I had a back seat and front seat to the celebrity shit load. Smoked a blunt wth Tom Waitts, and then later as a faculty lines with Willie Nelson and Stevie Ray Vaugh.
Dig it, Tracy Chapman a la Luke Combs: This is what America A-Okay — Lesbian Black Woman Getting Redneck Luke Covering for ‘Fast Car.’ My fucking anthem.
Tracy Chapman – Fast Car (Live)
You got a fast car And I want a ticket to anywhere Maybe we make a deal Maybe together we can get somewhere
Any place is better Starting from zero, got nothing to lose Maybe we’ll make something Me, myself, I got nothing to prove
You got a fast car I got a plan to get us out of here I’ve been working at the convenience store Managed to save just a little bit of money
Won’t have to drive too far Just across the border and into the city You and I can both get jobs Finally, see what it means to be living
See, my old man’s got a problem He live with the bottle, that’s the way it is He says his body’s too old for working His body’s too young to look like his
Mama went off and left him She wanted more from life than he could give I said, “Somebody’s got to take care of him” So, I quit school and that’s what I did
You got a fast car Is it fast enough so we can fly away? Still gotta make a decision Leave tonight, or live and die this way
So, I remember when we were driving, driving in your car Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk City lights lay out before us And your arm felt nice wrapped around my shoulder And I, I, I had a feeling that I belonged I, I, I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone
You got a fast car We go cruising, entertain ourselves You still ain’t got a job So I work in a market as a checkout girl
I know things will get better You’ll find work and I’ll get promoted We’ll move out of the shelter Buy a bigger house, live in the suburbs
So, I remember when we were driving, driving in your car Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk City lights lay out before us And your arm felt nice wrapped around my shoulder And I, I, I had a feeling that I belonged I, I, I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone
You got a fast car I got a job that pays all our bills You stay out drinking late at the bar See more of your friends than you do of your kids
I’d always hoped for better Thought maybe together you and me would find it I got no plans, I ain’t going nowhere Take your fast car and keep on driving
So, I remember when we were driving, driving in your car Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk City lights lay out before us And your arm felt nice wrapped around my shoulder And I, I, I had a feeling that I belonged I, I, I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone
You got a fast car Is it fast enough, so you can fly away? You still gotta make a decision Leave tonight, or live and die this way
+—+
1988 Mother Fuckers:
Fuck the post-modern mother fucking age of stupidity and death star fucking AI-VR-AR-MR Mossad Jewish Mossad. Tracy Chapman and Joan Armatrading!!!!
I listened to them in the 1970s and 1980s, live, small venues. Ain’t nothing like these two women.
My current wife turned me onto and helped me regain an appreciation for Duran Duran, Depeche Mode, Yaz, Siouxie and the Banshies, Gaabage, English Beat, 50 Cent . . . Billie Elish, Lady Tron, Goldfrapp, KMFDM, Marilyn Mason, Biggy, Notorious B.I.G, Boris Brechznah . . . Josef Leimberg (out of Eagle Rock/LA).
Sure, I am a Jazz Aficiando, long hair classical motherfucker.
But my old days, previouis relationships, Joan Baby! Turned me onto her!
But come on: Pure Americana!
Lyrics
You got a fast car I want a ticket to anywhere Maybe we make a deal Maybe together we can get somewhere Any place is better Starting from zero, got nothing to lose Maybe we’ll make something Me, myself, I got nothing to prove
You got a fast car I got a plan to get us out of here I been working at the convenience store Managed to save just a little bit of money Won’t have to drive too far Just ‘cross the border and into the city You and I can both get jobs And finally see what it means to be living
See, my old man’s got a problem He lives with the bottle, that’s the way it is He says his body’s too old for working His body’s too young to look like his My mama went off and left him She wanted more from life than he could give I said, somebody’s got to take care of him So I quit school and that’s what I did
You got a fast car Is it fast enough so we can fly away? We gotta make a decision Leave tonight or live and die this way
So I remember we were driving, driving in your car Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk City lights lay out before us And your arm felt nice wrapped ’round my shoulder And I-I, had a feeling that I belonged I-I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone
You got a fast car We go cruising to entertain ourselves You still ain’t got a job And I work in a market as a checkout girl I know things will get better You’ll find work and I’ll get promoted We’ll move out of the shelter Buy a bigger house and live in the suburbs
So I remember when we were driving, driving in your car Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk City lights lay out before us And your arm felt nice wrapped ’round my shoulder And I-I, had a feeling that I belonged I-I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone
You got a fast car I got a job that pays all our bills You stay out drinking late at the bar See more of your friends than you do of your kids I’d always hoped for better Thought maybe together you and me would find it I got no plans, I ain’t going nowhere So take your fast car and keep on driving
So I remember when we were driving, driving in your car Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk City lights lay out before us And your arm felt nice wrapped ’round my shoulder And I-I, had a feeling that I belonged I-I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone
You got a fast car Is it fast enough so you can fly away? You gotta make a decision Leave tonight or live and die this way
+—+
Motherfuckers, we are now shackled by the lizard freaks, the transhumanists. the COP 28 Fascists, the Israeli Murderers, the EU-TrashLandians, and NATO-stanistans!!
Crips and Bloods in fucking Suits.
Lyrics — Talking about a revolution —- fuck Israel and Biden and Trump and Harris and Hillary and Sam Walton and Musk — viral petri dish specimens.
Talking about a Revolution!!
Don’t you know They’re talking about a revolution? It sounds like a whisper Don’t you know Talking about a revolution? It sounds like a whisper
While they’re standing in the welfare lines Crying at the doorsteps of those armies of salvation Wasting time in the unemployment lines Sitting around waiting for a promotion
Don’t you know Talking about a revolution? It sounds like a whisper
Poor people gonna rise up And get their share Poor people gonna rise up And take what’s theirs
Don’t you know you better run, run, run, run, run, run Run, run, run, run, run, run Oh, I said you better run, run, run, run, run, run Run, run, run, run, run, run
‘Cause finally the tables are starting to turn Talkin’ ’bout a revolution ‘Cause finally the tables are starting to turn Talkin’ ’bout a revolution, oh no Talkin’ ’bout a revolution, oh
I’ve been standing in the welfare lines Crying at the doorsteps of those armies of salvation Wasting time in the unemployment lines Sitting around waiting for a promotion
Don’t you know Talking about a revolution? It sounds like a whisper
And finally the tables are starting to turn Talkin’ ’bout a revolution Yes, finally the tables are starting to turn Talkin’ ’bout a revolution, oh, no Talkin’ ’bout a revolution, oh, no Talkin’ ’bout a revolution, oh, no
+—+
Whitey on the Moon:
If you do not want these fucker DOA, and if you do not WANT their Eichmanns at the bottom of the Jimmy Hoffa Sea, your are lobotomized.
In writing about the 2021 documentary of the “Summer of Soul” music festival of 1969, which coincided with the Moon landing, a film critic in July 2021 noted how Black sentiments about the seeming wastefulness of the Moon trip then represents an “extraordinarily topical sequence now, with billionaires funding rockets to fly into space, while memes fly around social media quoting Gil Scott-Heron’s bitter song ‘Whitey on the Moon.’”
Another writer – in discussing the Branson and Bezos space trips – described “Whitey on the Moon” as “a nod to the privileges enjoyed by non-Black people that allowed them to pursue their prideful pet projects that did not necessarily make the world a better place for most Americans.”
I suspect these writers sense – as I do – that we are living in the same dystopian present. It is a time in which the “whitey” in Scott-Heron’s poem could be any of the three billionaires who are the faces of the current space race, which is taking place in an era of profound inequity that helped them become billionaires in the first place.
There are tons of examples of earthly “Sister Nells” who have been and are currently being bitten by rats on Earth while rich white men are taking tourism to the heavenly skies.
I believe that people, more or less, feel that the song points out the kind of inequity that lies at the heart of the ability to amass exorbitant wealth that affords the likes of Branson, Bezos and Musk the privilege to be the first space tourists. (source)
Or,
+—+
Black astronaut, forecast report
How they actually thought that you wouldn’t find your way
That matters not, it’s an act of God
Can I tag along, now that you’re in outer space? (Outer space)
Now that you’re in outer space
[Verse 1]
Ayy, can I please breathe, three feet, no pressure
Ayy, soon I’ll hit stratosphere and that’ll lower the pressure
We diggin’ for a happy that is deeper than depressions
From eagles in the deserts, assaults with a deadly weapon
But we leave it all behind with our other worldly possessions
No rocket ship to rally bеhind, so we reinvestеd
My time spent in buying shit that doesn’t even mesh with me
I’m see through, but insecurities need they confessions
I needed space, once I seen the world, I got demons to purge
I wanna be the girls of my dreams’ same dream to my girl
We were shorties, and all it took was a wink and a curl
To fall in love we didn’t even need to speak or be worried
Or sneak in a hurry to keep she from hurtin’
Like sheep that were herdin’, I hope we moved on
So hopefully when you thirty you move differently
The cool kid in me is a new temperature
New wave like the moon shifted me, now enters the-
[Chorus]
Black astronaut, forecast report
How they actually thought that you wouldn’t find your way
That matters not, it’s an act of God
Can I tag along, now that you’re in outer space? (Outer space)
Now that you’re in outer space
[Verse 2]
Black astronaut, in the class is shy
So, when the teacher roll call, ya name forgot
Had words by the few, never had a lot
But you knew that your mind wasn’t the average
Like abra-cadabra, we made all of our doubt disappear
We used to be invisible, that was a different year
It appeared different peers tried to kill me with ideas
That whatever I would do was far from cool or fittin’ in
Loneliness struck with a slight chance of rain
Black astronaut, they don’t like you in space
Bright blue the day, find my terrain
Dare I to say, I’m on my way
[Chorus]
Black astronaut, forecast report
How they actually thought that you wouldn’t find your way
That matters not, it’s an act of God
Can I tag along, now that you’re in outer space? (Outer space)
Now that you’re in outer space
Fuck the Jews and their Fucking Rip Off Managers and Music Thieves:
Fuck these thieves. Why the fuck haven’t YOU just sent in the clowns, the Molotovs Men and Women?
When the supremely talented and socially aware Lupe Fiasco releases his sixth LP, Drogas Light, tomorrow, much attention will be paid to the subtext and themes of his rhymes by those looking for hints of anti-semitic rhetoric.
In mid-December, the rapper shared a single called “N.E.R.D.,” which lit up the music community for this particularly eyebrow-raising line:
“Artists getting robbed for their publishing/By dirty Jewish execs who think that it’s alms from the covenant.”
The Music Moguls Who Bled Millions from a Black Legend by Reclamation Project
The Honorable Minister Louis Farrakhan, himself a master musician and playwright, spoke harshly of this underworld that our entertainers must traverse if they wish to gain the fame and fortune they worked so hard to achieve. Here, The Minister serves up a word of warning:
“I think we have made a grave mistake; we have been deceived into thinking that the Jews have been our allies in our recent civil rights struggle…Yes, he poses as your friend. He’s with you as an agent, he’s with you as a manager, he’s with you as an investor, he’s with you as a guide in economic development, but he has never asked you to do what he has done. He networks with other rich, influential Jews and he buys, he invests, he’s in trade and commerce.”
Though the Anti-Defamation League (ADL) has showcased The Minister’s words as though they are manifestly untrue and “anti-Semitic,” Chuck Berry is the veritable poster boy for the reality that The Minister describes.
Can Farrakhan be more exact? Let’s look at his words again, as recorded by the ADL:
“I’m here to tell you no Black man or woman becomes a multi-millionaire without friendship in the Jewish community. Did you know that nearly all prominent Negro actors and musicians have or had Jewish sponsors and managers? They have a way of attaching themselves to your gifts, but you get nothing. They get it all.”
If anything, Chuck Berry was a fast learner. He was ultimately able to free himself from the clutches of those Jews he referred to as “swindlers.” At his recent passing Berry’s estate is said to be worth $50 million, and that includes publishing rights to most of his 200 songs, and royalties that could amount to $500,000 per year. He also invested in real estate all over the country. The irony is that his music made a talentless gaggle of schemers much, much more. The Chess brothers contributed to Jewish institutions and causes, which gladly turned a blind eye to the Chess brothers’ “fundraising” methods. In his thoughtful and analytical 1987 autobiography, Chuck Berry went back to his St. Louis church roots in discussing the Chess brothers’ pillaging of his wealth and his talent: “Woe be unto him whose wrongs are revealed.”
Yep:
“Basically, you’re not allowed to do anything unless one of them is with you. It’s been like that for time. It’s systemic. It needs to change. We all need to come together instead of throwing ourselves to them. They chew you up and spit you back out again.”
Prompted to apologise again, he said: “I am not on the fence… I’m right. I’m right. The Jewish community do own a lot of s*** on this planet, and they do, with other societies, run the Earth. They own everything… I’m not antisemitic if I say the Jewish community’s very powerful, they own this, they own that – I’m not wrong. I’m not wrong.”
Paul Haeder, Author 