Pirates Of The...Something


Dear Whomever Wants To Listen(Read, Really):


At risk of sounding like a hater of many things, I’m writing this letter. Ironically, I’m writing to Otis Redding’s “I’ve Been Loving You Too Long (To Stop Now).” Prayerfully, I don’t have to explain irony to you.

I spent the better half of 4am Thursday June 10, 2010 planning a revolution. Perhaps one that will never happen knowing the track record of the people I’d be recruiting. But planning nonetheless. In my head I’ve already freed Mumia and brought Assata home safely and untouched. Knowing the source of my tension headache and why I’m beginning to hate overpaid entertainers and athletes(who have nothing to do with this letter), I knew where this planning was heading.

Why, for fucks sake, is BP ordered to pay only $69million for their role in blackening the gulf, putting in danger the lives of what once lived in the waters, and those who relied on that water for life, while Limewire, the media sharing program from which many of use have downloaded countless hours of Joe Cocker, Lil Wayne, porn and dancing cats, may be ordered to pay upwards of one billion dollars, perhaps more, for their role in keeping the pockets of artists to a minimum. Fuck the artists, give Limewire a slap on the wrist, a pat on the ass and keep it moving.


God forbid there’s a program out there that keeps the artists’ pockets not as fat as they rap them to be. God forbid america (written in lowercase letters to show current disrespectful mood) reprimands a company currently keeping politicians on payroll. In the words of Ed Lover: GTFOHWTBS!

Once the oil is cleaned up, and the fish, birds and sea creatures have been brought back to life miraculously by the powers that be and the magic man on the mountain, what happens? When Limewire shuts down and we can no longer steal the music that isn’t worth buying, what then?


Pack the cars full of dead fish, Crisco, petrol and a book of matches and meet me at your closest BP station. Make sure your internet bill is paid, you have the utorrent program and download your shit from: www.isohunt.com.

Damnit. Dear Readers: I think I’ve gotten off track. The point I’m trying to make is this: The government, with their crooked employees, and the companies owned by the same fuckers, have shown their blatant disrespect for the people, and something must be done. They’re playing the role of the college President that allows the football team to murder, smuggle and rape while the average students get expelled for spitting on the sidewalk. Dear Whoever Is In Charge: you remind me of my undergraduate institution’s current president.


And in closing: fuck you artist pissed off at the world for pirating your music. When you use your talents to feed the people garbage, there is a high price to pay. For the amount of money you claim to earn, I think your risk of death should be greater. Each time you get paid, I’d like you to meet me. Bring a blindfold, and a witness.

Fucking Mad and In Love With Old School Music and Free Hip Hop,

Darnell Lamont Walker

there's something about...


i've been slacking on the blog, doing a little bit of living.
making sure my timeline and inbox are full of invitations and "let's kick it" requests.

so - if you've been keeping up with jones, you'd know i'm now located in new yawk city again.
there's something about getting home at 7:30am each morning that i love.

there's something about:
-rooftop parties in brooklyn and house parties in harlem
-the lake in central park at 3am
-tito's hookah bar in the lower east side
-the village creperie
-catching the sunrise off the f.d.r. in alphabet city
-the thai spot on sheridan
-standing in front of madison square garden eating street meat thinking of the jay z concert you have yet to catch there
-the conversations with @projectbarbipr & A.S. & @OnMyOwnBeat & the random folks with great taste who love my cologne





who wouldnt want to live there?

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there's something about the wind blowing cool air at night in DC that makes me want to do better in life.
and that's not to be mistaken with me doing not-so-great now.
i fxcking love my life right now...but when the cool air comes through the screen window in SE DC i know that things are going to be alright.

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my doctor called me and told me i could die at any minute if i don't start taking the medicine that thins my blood out to prevent blood clots.

i mean - i take my medicine - but sometimes i don't.
and it's selfish of me, i know, so i'm going to start.

but in the event that i die:

it isn't a bad thing. inconvenient (but only as much as going to the gas station or bathroom), but not bad. i did it big!
woo!

but i'll be taking the stupid a** medication.
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damn, there's the breeze again.

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i want to say this and be done:

there is a special bond you form with those you've been to hell and back with.
i know this because i pledged.
the bond i have with my brothers is a bond that is damn near unmatched.

that being said, it bogles my mind how those who have not walked to hell with me (us) think they can be placed higher on the priority list.






the end.
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i'm thinking of writing a book about the art of lying.
i want to do a section on those who lie & how that lie should be exposed by those lied to.

1. listen to the lie.
2. confirm that it is a lie.
3. accept it as truth.
4. lose massive amount of respect for the liar.
5. devise plans to TAKEN 'EM OUT piece by piece.
6. smile in their face.

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body update:



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i've brought my first pair of sneakers in the last 7 years.
crazy right.
wow.

now i'm a sneaker lover.

and...

there's a ice cream sandwich calling my name through the door of the freezer.
so i'm going to wrap this blog up a bit.

so, peace folks.
keep up with me.
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