Grillless

Well well, I’m back after a couple of Earth disasters. My heart goes out to Burma and China, stay strong!

So what has me crawling out of my proverbial cave, this time?

An incident that’s close to home.

I was at the lcbo (that’s the booze store to you U.S. based citizens) picking up some… well, beer (Boris and St. Peter’s, if you must know), and I was in the line to pay. Being Friday night after work it was busy, so as us Canadians are apt to do, I line up, silently and politely, waiting to pay.

Rewind that a little. When I arrived, there was a cute girl (like who else?) giving free samples of Bavaria. Smooth beer, I said cheers soon after she gave me the mandatory shpiel and I went bottoms up. She was a clever one, she identified me as the guy to bring other people over to her, and, truthfully, I recognized this too. Sometimes it can even be lonely for cute girls giving away free beer. So after taking the obligatory sample gulp, I thanked her and went on my now merrier way.

Fast forward to the line up.

Preamble.

After having worked at a grocery store I am fairly adept at picking the fastest line at the front.

Back to the story.

This time I seemed to have stymied myself as I ended up in one of the slow movers. Just as I was about to change up the check out lane, something in me stopped. At the front, some alpha male dude was buying cheap white wine with his credit card. I mean, I couldn’t see the writing on the label, but the bottles were those twice-the-regular-sized ones, 1500ml maybe? …and they looked cheap. They probably were cheap. …and… he was the reason the line was at a standstill.

Stop here for a second.

I’m not one to boast, but I can size people up pretty fast, dudes more so than the ladies, just because the ladies are so complex (I love you ladies!), and dudes are well, dudes.

Back to the front.

So this guy wearing expensive shirt and jeans, but no style to speak of, with his big ole’ bottles and idiotic smile on his face signs for his with an over dramatic scribble and thinks that’s it, asta la vista liqour store! But wait! The clerk asked him for I.D.!!! Oh me oh my, was I soaking this one up! So dude, with a complete blank look on his face now, whips out his I.D. to prove he is who the name on the credit card says he is. The Clerk checks it out, for what seemed to be a half minute, and gives him the O.K.

What happens next, in typical obnoxious alpha man, passive aggressive fashion is, he mutters a few expletives at the clerk, but looking at me, not the clerk, and which no-one can really hear, but maybe the clerk… and leaves. I see him mouth *whatever* *whatever* (I’m sure you can guess what he really said) and his look to me was a look of someone asking for help.

So I see this go down, and I see him walk out, and I wonder what porche/bm/audi he is going to get into… and sure enough… it’s an audi, and he drives off. Man am I enjoying this! It’s not everyday that you see these obnoxious alpha males get served, and in typical fashion, their response to these types of situations was, shall we say,  less than heroic.

I must make the reader completely aware that I definitely have a chip on my shoulder about these type of guys, the charmers, the showmen, the nothing really under the hood men. I need substance from this world, and dudes who give the world none are wasting our air, and time. I’m not using the same brush for all alpha males, just these idiot ones (and they seem to be in abundence).

Money + Lack of love = Dellusions of power and respect.

I mean, if the dude couldn’t even see that the clerk was having some fun with him, then he most definitely is a grade “A” knuckle dragger.

When I got to the front, the clerk asked me if I had air miles. I said no, and he said he’d have to charge me an extra dollar!

I love this guy.

Clerks are cool.

“If you’re havin’ girl problems I feel bad for you son
I got 99 Problems but a Bitch ain’t one”
-Jay-Z

Every dude has girl problems, even Jay-Z. Actually, maybe I should preface that. Every dude who is dating or has a relationship with a female has girl problems, at some point in their lives.

I can say, from personal experience, that every single female that I have dated, related, often syncopated, had relations with, has given me problems.

So what truly is it about the opposite sex that causes such strife in our lives?

I won’t call this a theory, because I am not going to work it out enough to call it so, but let’s call it a hunch, a feeling. I think it has something to do with that whole forbidden fruit thing. I’m not sure what this is called in other religions, but the most private sanctum of womanhood has some serious strings attached. I think the apple metaphor holds true.

Consider this; do you ever get into any real arguments with females that you have a friendly, yet strictly plutonic relationship with?

Think about it.

Once you get to know a woman intimately problems do arise.

I understand though Jay-Z, the number 100 doesn’t flow like 99 does, and this post should not take away, in anyway, that hot track.

That’s what Ron Nelson said to me once, after the ending of a school jam. This was pre Reggaemania of course, when he held it down Saturday afternoons on Toronto’s CKLN, with a show called The Fantastic Voyage. He handed down the afternoon hip hop show to DJ X’s Power Move to change formats with Reggaemania, at the time, he wanted to step away from the commercialization that he felt hip hop had become.

This man has been in Toronto Radio for a long time and deserves all the respect and accolades he gets, but even when he was controlling the airwaves of Saturday afternoons, he was somewhat of a legend.  So one fateful day in class when I saw that there was a flyer being passed around, I immediately got excited. It was Ron’s sound system flyer, and it was in the hands of the class president, and I just had a feeling that Ron would be coming to my school.

Sure enough, the fateful night came and I was there loving it, to have the one and only Ron Nelson DJ at my school’s dance. Only problem, this was Deer Park Sr PS, and the P stood for Preppy. I knew Dave would probably be rather disappointed at the energy, playing to the crowd meant more of the likes of Siouxsie and the Banshees than it did KRS One. I was disappointed too, somewhat ideally, as being enrolled at this school meant I knew the 411. I knew better but I had hoped that more of The Fantastic Voyage and less of The Breakfast Club could come to this dance and turn on more ears to the energy of Hip Hop. Sure, I was deluded. Delusional. Then Disillusioned.

So after the show, I went up to Ron, caught him on the stairwell, and told him there was a fan of Hip Hop (and The Fantastic Voyage), as I was empathizing about the lack of knowledge. In my own way, I wanted to cheer him up, as not all of us were Zombies there that night. I wanted to make a request, I had the request in mind, and I said it, as politely as I could.

Now maybe I didn’t realize how disappointed he was, and possibly mad, at how the night turned out, so this may have had something to do with his response, but not entirely. He ended up saying…

Ask Dave to play Whodini.

Now the Dave he was referring to is Dave Ahmad, another Toronto Radio personality and legend from CKLN. Dave hosted Dave’s Dance Music on Sunday Afternoons, which was more dance oriented in format. Ron was telling me that they were more funk and R&B and would get play on Dave’s show, but not on his.

Respect to Ron Nelson, but Whodini is hip hop.

The moral of the story?

Play lots of Hip Hop (and learn the history) and also listen to Reggaemania, Friday 9pm - Midnight on CKLN FM, Toronto.

 I don’t know if it’s just me… well, I know it’s not just me… when you reach a certain age, there are many of us who dread the Holiday Season. Commercialization Overkill. Too much time spent with relatives. Or on the other hand, nobody to spend the holidays with. These are but some of the reasons why many of us simply do not look forward to this particular time of year. Now the religious scholars will say this season isn’t about you or me, it’s about him (fill in the appropiate seasonal deity here). …But here is where I take a break for old time tradition. Christmas tradition. Sure, the holiday Chanakwanzamas tree in the lobby of my work brought me cheer this year, most notably because management stuck to their guns and put up a Christmas tree in 2007, so I renamed it as a Chanakwanzamas tree, but thinking about it now, I really should have named it a Diwanakwanzamas tree, to be fair.

Getting back to the story…

I’m not sure why I dread this season, all I know is that it has been awhile (many years) since/that I have felt this way, and I’m sure I had a damn good reason when I first started feeling this way, though I cannot remember the exact cause now. What I can tell you is that it is not a grinch-esque hate-on. I don’t hate this season, it’s more like a bad movie that you just want to stop watching, not so much emotional as objectionable. It’s personal in nature, and I am fine with anyone else’s opinion, be it good, love, or otherwise - their Christmas truly is their Christmas.

Today started like years past, no wait. Last night was when it really started. The night before Christmas. The time closest to Christmas. Ugh, great, Christmas is finally here. I had to run out to get mundane stuff like milk and toilet paper (if you must know, now you know) last minute, and everything was… capital C L O S E D. The corner variety stores would make a killing if anyone was actually out. Got back, ate something and wrapped presents. G’D Nite.

Back to today… it started like years past, so very… unexciting. Usually the kids’ joy brings me joy… but not this one day of the year. Except… Christmas dinner at my Dad’s. Title it “Presents and karaoke”. Now let me get to the good part:

(fast forward) 

Time for karaoke and we are doing the usual Christmas jingles, and after we exhaust those (don’t get me confused, this was our first karaoke), my Dad starts looking through the menu for other songs we can sing… and I see… Hood Figga. Wait A Minute. What a moment. I not only get my Dad to select it, but he didn’t even miss a beat the whole time the song was in play, he hit every lyric right on point! That’s right, on this night, I lost the karaoke battle, but gained one of the best Christmas’ ever (and my Dad gets to retain his Cool as Ice title belt)!

Now… sing along with Zoe! (peace, Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays and all that!) 

!

So I’ve been listening to this for awhile, http://aloeblacc.com/. Check the link, and rock yeh head to the track on the flash, I emailed the addy at the site, and also Aloe Blacc’s myspace page, for the name of the track, but everyone’s too busybody to reply or something. …but they ain’t turning me off that EZ! My machine’s time on this site is large, just for the beat! oh… - …and you can thank me later… that is you’re welcome if you just rock your head to the beat!

Well, lots of news to report since my last post, but what now, where to begin? First off, let me say I love Discogs. A big shout out and thank you to plusminus for coming through with a track I’ve been looking for, for quite some time… sure, it’s a repress, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t jump on the chance to pick up this gem, all the way from the Netherlands in fact, well, NA to EU and back again. Can You Feel It?

I was really hoping to give a review on an underground cat out of Cali, but paypal’s been sent and paypal’s been received and now there’s no sign of a package in my mailbox to date, that’s right, many week’s later it’s a large say-no-go. I have to take my chances, and I’m still giving him the benefit of the doubt here before I even think about grilling him. Sometimes life can get in the way, and I for one am one humble person who understands that. Remember this though, your State may be, but silence ain’t golden in this hip hop game. Speak up soon or I will be calling you out. It’ll be my lesson on Urban Economics 101… Communication is key (JB).

I recently added my latest hip hop mix to my podcast, check out BTS Hip Hop Episode Mix 2, BTS stands for Beat Transfer Service and I chose that because I thought that know one would use it, but apparently some cats out of NY State are calling themselves Beat Transfer? Is nothing original? Get your own name there can only be one. 

The track of the week for you to chase down? Frankenstein - Slow Down Waterfall (Remix).  Need a higher degree of difficulty? Find it from the American webmaster. Enjoy! …and Mr. Ano where are you?

So the other day, well, it was the other week, I was standing in line at the local corner coffee shop. It was probably my afternoon coffee, the second and last coffee of the day for me. At that time of day, it usually isn’t too crowded in the shop, juxtaposed to the morning when there is a lineup out the door (serious coffee drinkers here). Usually, at that time in the afternoon, I can just stroll right in and be served a la de facto (just making ‘ish up there). On this day; there was one patron in front of me. Cool, waiting is no stress.

What happened next was not something you get to bear witness to everyday.

Let me set this up, flashback to that morning, I had no change for the man and took out my debit card with many apologies.

Enter the afternoon, same guy behind the counter, and what does the guy in front of me say? Something along the lines of, “Sorry, I don’t have any money, I will have to pay by credit card”…! Now, I’m sure the folks at the corner coffee store get this a bunch; debit cards, comp. cards (read: gift), credit cards. But this time, and bless him, the guy behind the counter said, “That’s ok, but you will have to sign for it with this really BIG pen”…! No joke, he reaches for this gigantic (read: oversized) pen and hands it to the patron.

Wouldn’t you believe it, the guy actually says ok to that and signs for it! (gotta love canada!)… SO, I’m already in tears, but not trying to show it, not only because I had empathy and really felt for this patron, but the situation was just so bizarre and real, that you couldn’t help crack a smile…

The closer?

After signing for it and handing it back, the employee asks the guy, “…Is that your real signature?”

Truth!

I tipped him large that day.

No joke.

So, the other day I was at the local corner store. I forget what I was there for now. Water? Throat candies? Something like that. I was in a very curious mood and I let my eyes scan the candy bar racks below the counter top. I scanned the usual suspects until my eyes stopped suddenly; I couldn’t believe what my eyes were relating to my brain, as my mind raced back fifteen or so years. Right there, about three rows down and far to the left of me I saw them. A box of Mackenzie Toffee, only the package only says Mack now, or did it always?

 Fifteen or so years ago seems like a lifetime away now. It was summertime, and I was spending it at my grandparents and working for my next door neighbour doing odd jobs. That summer away from home, the only rap music I could get was “Push It” and I was craving something else besides “Push It”, but the only other thing was the likes of ”Stairway To Heaven”. In other words, I wasn’t exactly in a place to hear some hip hop.

Nonetheless, that was the summer of alcohol in plastic and toffee candy, and the great feeling you got from wacking the cardboard toffee box as hard as you could to break it into little tiny pieces. These days, they now give directions on the box, which I don’t remember from my youthful days.

The directions are on the sides, and due to laws that govern our society up here in the great big Northern area of your map, there are two languages on the box, English and French. So, “Mack A Smack”, and “Mack On Craque” are the messages that this box delivers.

Is our society so crack and heroin obsessed that they have to use it to sell this message to our children? is this “Scottish” and what the kids are into these days? I have no idea but it got a great laugh at the office.

One thing is for sure, it’s still the same toffee on the inside.

This is not an anti-grill blog. Far from it. These are the words of Grillless. A child from the 70s, who listened to rap in the eighties, who became an adult in the nineties, and who feels like a kid again in this new millenium (whatever that is). Not that I’m not responsible. As you’ll read in posts to come, I’m all about responsibility, but I haven’t forgotten the fun word. I guess that’s what this blog is about. A bit life, and a bit of hip hop culture without the grill. Life is Grillless.