December 18th, 2000

This is an Introduction.. takes Notes, Chew Gum, Dowhatchalike.


"The best way to piss people off, is to piss them off again""

I know what your thinking… no, for real I do. You don’t believe me, huh… Well let me tell you a story which will reveal powers that Dionne or that fakin Jamaican, Cleo, can’t shake a biscuit to.

There was once this boy who wanted to build a playhouse. (This was way back when kids used to build playhouses…) He would sit around reading Spider Man comic books and eating oreo cookies with milk… flipping through the pages.. and thinking to himself.. "Damn, I need somewhere to read about the exploits of Peter Parker other than on this cold, hard linoleum floor." This is where things get tricky. Where should I go he thought. He wandered through the apartment and saw his father in the living room watching TV. The boy called his pop's name. As he entered the room, his father quickly grabbed for the remote and switched to the Disney channel. Uh.. what.. what.. what do you want.

The boy thought it was funny because he knew that his father had these odd magazines underneath his bed. He found them once when he was looking for his little green army men. (don’t lose me here we’re talking about 1975…. Oh , okay just so you can relate, we’ll say he was looking for his Clue tape.) The magazines had women in all kinds of strange gymnastic like positions, legs stretched out, toes pointed skyward, backsides... lumped out like camels.. straight booty shots.. big round booties. Oh yeah, the women had no need for Prada, Gucci, or Polo gear.. they were all butt ass naked. The first time the boy looked at those magazines he was thoroughly disgusted. Big hairy bushes and that scary pink stuff, were they okay? Somebody call a doctor because it looks like it hurts. He quickly put the magazine back, but came back later with a new frame of mind… discovery of the unknown. This time natural instincts took over and instead of a queasy stomach he got a wooden soldier if you know what I mean.

Discovery seems to fall in your lap like dominoes. You get one thing and another comes out of nowhere. That’s how the boy found the Spice channel. He was flipping through the cable channels and...what's this? Moving images of the women from the magazines. This time they were doing more than posing.. the boy was watching the women with fantasies that he could never fulfill.. when his mother came in the room. He jumped up and switched the channel the same way that his father had. So when he saw his father nervous and cheesy.. he knew what was happening and he made a point to do it whenever he needed a laugh.

“Oh. Never mind”, the boy said as he turned around laughing to himself. He had more important things to take care of like that playhouse.

See I know what your thinking.. what the hell is wrong with this guy.. or what the fuck is this. It’s called self sufficiency my friend. Thinking and doing. VooDOO. How else can you get something done in life.

Take this stream of consciousness your reading now, I had a wrinkle in my forehead all morning. You see I’m trying to put together a website that is a little different from what you might normally see. At the same time I want it to be something that you always need. Kinda like heroin. It’s not on the shelf of Louis’s neighborhood bodega, but ask any fiend and that muthafucka will tell you I need my shit regardless. That’s the kind of world I want to create. So when I called up the site, while sitting at my bill paying job...(uhm ohkay.) I thought... the site looks nice enough but it needs a voice. I do have my girl ShortyCake onboard and she does a great job, but I felt like I needed to provide more than some cheerleading, hell, I’ll throw on some Jordans and take some shots too. The site needs a voice. You hear me talking.

So with wrinkled brow I sat. Where and what to do. Hours passed by. Lunchtime came and I decided to take a walk. I wandered into Virgin megastore too see if I could get some inspiration down in the bookstore. Nothing. I had a half an hour left before I had to head back to the office so I stopped at Popeye’s chicken.

Yes, the rumors are true. Black people love chicken. That must be true, especially since I’m supposed to be a vegetarian, but that’s another story... After leaving Popeye’s with feathers hanging out the side of my greasy lips, I came back to the office and began typing.

All it took for me to accomplish my goal was to get started. Start with what you know. It can be the littlest thing, something that seems totally inconsequential … meaningless. Just do it, anyway. The mind’s discovery process is like dominoes.. I said that earlier. One thing follows another, all you have to do is make your first vision come to life. Don’t worry about step two because you can’t get there without the first step.

So there you have it… the voice is born, it’s me. VooDOO and all. Hip hop, rhythmic, styled writing, smooved out, with a gonzo feel appeal.

Gonzo - A style of writing attributed to Hunter Thompson. A late sixties, early seventies journalist and author who was famous for his off the wall banter. I call it what I’ve always done.

Lata,

Chris Grandison aka FabTimesThree

Hit me up at click@whudat.com