The most recent from S.O.N.I.C.!!!

This is what I was told is the most recent offering from some one we should not sleep on!Instrumental The Thrill Is Gone Off The Statik Selektah Hangover Album Original Song Is Talib Kweli And Styles P Beat Is Crazy!!!!!!

Top Video teaser of the Week!

We all have Up-coming projects around here and starting today We are gonna start waving them all in ya faces. Enjoy the first, a draft for a trailer by Sicksof1.

Finally, Sicksof1 Throws me a scrap!

Thanks Bro, Hope things are looking up.

He's @ it again!!!!!!!

 And I'm not sure thats a good Idea. I mean the guy is blind. why would anybody want to see the work of a blind painter? Oh wait..this ain't the blind guy. Okay, Here it is!! Now give me my fuggin dolla!!!

My homeboy Sicksof1 is starting a new weekly post

 

It was created using 9 jpegs. Yeah only 9! He also used Sony vegas pro and Magix 4 the music. And waaayyy 2 much time on his hands.  Look 4 his post on a weekly basis. Till I kill him (I hate Dubstep)

excerpt from the book "Black Sheep Ashtray" by Dante Hadley

I have no idea how I ended up in the First Missionary High Church of Crack. I was under the mistaken belief that I was being sent to prison. Naw man, prison is like Crack Mecca. Here is proof: 6 1.The Devotees. They can be identified by various stigmata. a. Recent weight gain (see, in this institution, you are assigned a clothing size when you first come into the system. Changing sizes is a real bitch, so Devotees all wear their uniforms very tight.) Crack heads don’t have time to eat on the streets so when they get rescued (arrested) they tend to eat everything in sight. b. Lack of teeth. I used to think it was the lack of time for hygiene on the street. Who has time to brush when you’re trying to sell a lawn mower or pack of bacon or ass? Wrong. Turns out they just smoked em’ in the crack induced confusion. c. Strange scars with stranger explanations; “What do you mean you got bit by a fucking zebra? Bitch, you from Tampa!

Cee Lo Green - FUCK YOU (Official Video).HD

Death on Myspace, no really. UPDATE!!!!!!!

    WarDaddy don't Myspace!! Just never was my thing. I always knew a bunch of people who did, but I really ain't all that ..um social. Got a friend who still uses his Myspace page to push his business. Hope thats working out for him(don't tell him, but its not). But anyway, yesterday he called me up all emotional about how he was finished with Myspace cause of the following screen shot and senseless violence (like theres another kind). This may not have even really happened. I hope not. I hope its just a very failed attempt at humor. If its true....well no words. you decide:

 

Don't really seem like a world I wanna live in.....UPDATE!!!

I'm already over it but Noe made me post this

UPDATE!!!!  

 

Still don't really seem like the world I want to live in......... 

Have a sip of this Liquid Light!

This Girl is CRAZY!!!!!!

Ebon's Blog

The truth about how I met this Artist have been buried by the sands of time.

Check out some of his work.

The Roots: How I got over. link to the video at the bottom

Black Though
how i got over
 2nd verse

When you on the corners too much drama
Livin’ with the police right behind ja’
It's always more than a slight reminda
We livin’ in a war zone like Rwanda.
Before I go back to the heavenly fatha
Pray for me if it ain’t too much botha.
Whatever don’t break me or make me stronga
I feel like I can’t take too much longa.
It’s too much lyin’
And too much fryin’
I’m all cried out cause I grew up cryin’
They all got a sales pitch I ain’t buyin’
They tryin’ to convince me that I ain’t tryin’.
We uninspired
We unadmired
And tired and sick of being sick and tired.
A living in the hood where the shots are fired
We dyin’ to live, so to live we dyin’.
You just like I am
. I love this song. Check out the video.

The Man has a point as much as I would like to believe my best ideas occur in a vacuum.lol

Help me find this Man's Paintings....

Pinched Parifrials

  Local Artist DRH1 has been painting in the Tampa area for the last 17 years.  You would think the guy would keep a phone.  Or an email address.  It makes hymn very hard to find. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all about my privacy, But DRH1 is on some  othashit. I called the number  on his billboard, got one of those answering services doctors used to use before cell phones and left a message. Two days later I got a call on my personal cell. Didn’t recog the number so I didn’t answer it. A little old lady (sweet-sounding) left a message and apologized, said she was trying to call her nephew  DRH1. Attempts  to call her back failed.

  For the next  two days I could not shake the feeling that I was being followed.  My Cat came up missing. My Chinese knock-off  Iphone got hackd. Things in my apartment got moved around while I wasn’t at home.

  I was in Ybor and  realized I had left my newly replaced Hiphone (they are like $50 bucks apiece) out of my car. As I was getting out of the car, I noticed this veeerrry sexy blond girl in a red dress walking straight towards me.  Batting her long lashes at me, she parted her lips to say……

 Well I don’t know what she was going to say. I never heard it. In my mind she was about to say: “ Hey!! Watch out!!! Them muthafukkas is about to put a black back on your head!!! And beat you to sleep with a bag of hamhocks!!!!” It wouldn’t even have mattered to me that she forgot to mention that the hamhocks were frozen. Because that’s what happened. Them muthafukkas put a black bag on my head and beat me to sleep with a bag of frozen hamhocks. Damn!

  I woke up in a dirty shipping container tied to a chair with socks. By the way the floor kept moving around I could only assume I was in the air. Maybe hanging from a crane.  There was candles and urine and surprise, surprise DRH1. This Idiot thinks He’s a Super-Villian and he doesn’t have a clue what an interrogation is. He beat me constantly while he answered my questions. This is what followed:

  WarDaddy: Stop Hitting Me!! Why am I tied to this chair?

  DRH1: I Thought this was about me. Why we gotta talk about you first? You really don’t want the focus of this…meeting to you, do we? You do want to live I mean leave, don’t you?

  WarDaddy:  I get it. Owww! So, after making your first public appearance at Gasparilla 06 you passed the chance to really blow up here locally and instead….Please stop hitting me.

  DRH1: Oh, I got carried away. Anyway, I kinda fell off the radar. Chasing skirts, you know.  Wish I’d stayed a virgin. I would already be rich. Drank a lot.  Yeah pretty much nothing.  My very real regret about it is why I keep hitting you with this bag of..well, frozen hamhocks.

  WarDaddy:  Do I Know you?  Have I done something to you to make you feel   like I should be punished for your..

  DRH1: Laziness? Well, no. I gotta take this out on somebody.  You’re the only one tied to a chair. Stop crying. Anyway, I managed to lose a bunch of my paintings in the drunken haze after 06. I need your help to get  em back. By  the way, sorry about your phone. I don’t even know why I did that.

  WarDaddy: OHHHHhhh!!!! Stop Hitting me and tell me how I’m going to help you get your paintings back.

  Just then the whole shipping container shifted to the side and started to roll over. There was some shouting outside and the DRH1 was winding the hamhocks around his fist faster and faster. He said we would continue this conversation later and took a step towards me. Everything went black.

  I woke up on the ground next to my car in Ybor. There was a note pinned to my chest. Not my shirt, my chest. It was a list of titles. Names  of paintings. And  a promise to get back to me later. I haven’t been sleep since.

     To Be Continued

Crazy guy handed me this flyer......

They used to call these "fatgirls"

Fun to ride but you don't want anybody to catch you on one.

New tampa Artist i met

I was walking thru the park today and I saw a girl making her hands into frames like she was framing a picture. She was framing all the pretty girls that walked by. And making half growl half whistle noises while she did it. It was kinda strange.She looked like she was thinking about stabbing me. So, of course i asked what she was doing. Her whole stylo changed and she whipped out a Knock-off Ipad. On it was all these..well nude girls or rather paintings of nude girls. So she told me her name was Ebon. I guess i looked like I was gonna say something like " isn't Ebon a boys name?"cause she looked like she wanted to stab me again. Anyway here is a link to some of her stuff. the Art of Ebon Serafin

Sometimes people don't hang around for the punchline....

In one of my earlier posts I was ranting about the "lame" things Artists have to do to keep from becoming cadavers. I mentioned crappy club flyers cause at the time it was pointed out to me how bad my flyers are. In spite of this guy trying to pay me to do his flyers. Whatever, I tossed together a few thumbnails and sent them to the guy. he loved em. made some line up changes and got paid. While we were talking he let it spill that he needed a way to regularly post announcements on the clubs Facebook and Myspace pages. Showed him my really "lame" Myspace page. We worked out terms on a site by site basis (in all 3 sites, with more to come) and he hired me on the spot. Crazy, right?

Doors close doors open. Anyway, for anybody who wants to see here is the first flyer I sold:





Great Art, uhm no. But I feel pretty good about it. Yep, WarDaddy is pleased

Approach my Temple

                                                This, for me, was today. Can't wait till tomorrow.

Some Artist never find a way...

                                      A Tattoo that I may not have Chosen.
WarDaddy says....
  I make a rotten "Starving Artist". I an an Artist, but as for the starving part I never really got that. I get skinny so fast its scary. Lucky for me I picked up Tattooing as a skill early on.  I've done shows and sold "real art" but I never have (really my fault) caught on to the point that I could stop doing Tats.  Part of doing Tats for me has included a lot of tattoos that I would never have done for the "artistic integrity". A lot of M.O.B on broke dudes and butterflies on asses that should never be exposed to light. It never made me rich. Sometimes it didn't even feed me. Everything has its ups and downs. But some Artists never find a way to be who they are and still make enuff to justify whatever it is that they do. Having found away to eat and still be me is a blessing. Maybe I got a really large artistic piece waiting for me to bring it into reality. maybe not. Maybe I got nothing in my future but pointless ass tattoos. But there is some poor guy out there submitting to a draconian dress code so he can proudly say "I draw Mickey Mouse!".  In my book (the only one that matters)I'm doing O.K.. Not wildly rich or acclaimed, but O.K.

In conclusion: If the whole starving till the world notices your greatness works for you, then run with it. I'll applaud your success. If along the way you keep from starving by selling crappy Hallmark cards/ tattoos/club flyers, I still got your back. The people buying are all the critics you need. By Law they should be the only ones you have.

The verse

Look, it is what it is
Because of what it was
I did what I did
'Cause it does what it does
I don't put nothin' above
What I am, what I love
My family, my blood
My city and my hood
Hater for the greater good
I'm back from Hollywood
And I ain't changed a lick
Though, I know I probably should
But, what I'm doin' is not a good look
I never did it by the good book, as a lifetime crook
All the petty crime took a toll on me
I look around at my homies that's gettin' old on me
But still somethin' gotta hold on me
Maybe it's fate
If it's comin', yo I'm willing to wait
I'm not runnin', I done ran through the muck
I done scrambled and such
I done robbed an odd job and gambled enough
Till I'm put up in handcuffs
And pissin' in a cup
If there's a God,
I don't know if he listenin' or what

MF Doom to Release 'Fake' Live Album?

                                             Peter Kramer, Getty Images

Controversial rapper MF Doom has been accused of a variety of nefarious plots and schemes over the years, from brawling with his hype man and fleeing the stage, to sending out his manager (and others) to perform in his stead, but according to 'NY Mag,' his latest stunt might be his most confusing.

The mysterious emcee, who wears an iron mask and records under a variety of aliases, is releasing a new live album on September 14, entitled 'Expektoration,' but according to 'NY Mag''s website, the album is not what it claims to be.

"'Expektoration,' to these untrained ears, sounds staged. As in, not actually live," writer Amos Barshad reports. "As in, MF Doom released a live album following a fake-live-show scandal, and that live album is not live."Barshad goes on to explain that the "live" album sounds more like "studio gimmickry," and questions Doom's intentions for releasing such a project.

"It's certainly Doom's voice, recorded live without any studio gimmickry, and there's certainly a hype man there with him, shouting all manners of crowd-hyping platitudes. But are there actually people present?" Barshad continues. "The noises of the crowd seem to pipe up, out of nowhere, at oddly appropriate moments, like whenever a song fades out, and then sharply disappear again. Doom addresses the crowd, they respond maniacally; he goes back to rapping, they evaporate completely. We hear 'New York, let me hear some noise, ya'll!' - and, on cue, a few seconds of response, then nothing. Cheers turn instantly to boos, and then quickly back again, with no explanation."

It is unlikely that we'll ever know the method to Doom's madness, but we're interested to watch the villain's next move.

As Barshad concludes, in the end all that matters is the quality of Doom's work. "Then again: Are we overanalyzing this because it's Doom? Very possible! And more important, with all that said, 'Expektoration' is kind of great."

MF Doom's 'Expektoration' will be released on September 14. Get yourself one.

Riding the Bus in Tampa.....

Riding the bus somewhere in Tampa.......

Look at my leg. its in its first movie. typical, its already to hire an agent!

Is It Hot Enough For You?

Is It Hot Enough For You?

by Bloodsport 3.1 

 They bought a house in Florida.  Kids, finally all gone. To make sure they stayed that way they got the smallest house they could find.  It was near the airport and if you were outside the noise was deafening.  But with a drive-in garage and year round lawn care there was really never a reason to be outside.  Besides this was Florida and it was hot as the warm part of hell out there.  Inside the house the constant drone of the air conditioner and the double paned heat shield windows that were closed all of the time made it hard to remember the airport was there. 

 Twenty-nine years and 3 kids (glad they’re gone) rounded most of the pointy spikes in the marriage, but still they had their moments.  This is the story of the last one.

  For once it wasn’t really hot all day.  Tuesday morning started out a cool 90 degrees.  By 1:00 it was only 96 and was starting to drop.  The afternoon thunderstorm lasted 20 minutes, which was just enough to make the air musty and dank. 

  Our couple knew none of this.  They were comfortably watching Jeopardy when the air conditioner went out.  Of course this caused panic.  The temperature in the house went from relaxing 68 to a blood boiling 110 in little over nine minutes.  Sweat erupted from them.  This didn’t end during or after the phone call summoning the repairman.  When he finally arrived there was an over flowing of gratitude that only ended when he told them it would cost them a king’s ransom to repair.  He gave them a couple of days to think about it, knowing in the end there would be only one decision.

  Paul (our hero) went to Wal-Mart and bought four of the biggest fans they had.  After all, he reasoned the “natives” never had air conditioners.  He didn’t know that his house and all of his neighbor’s houses were built on a landfill that was used to fill in a swamp; there had never been any “natives”. Man, it was just too damn hot.  They lost a pound and a half each that night and all the fans did was make the sweat dry faster.  Making them both sticky.  By Wednesday tempers were starting to flair.  The first display of this was when Stacey (our other hero) threw a shoe at Paul for no reason at all.

 They had other problems. With the windows and doors open the cats (all six of them) discovered that by ripping out the screens they could leave and return as they pleased.  So could all the bugs and lizards that made Florida famous.  Along with the incredibly loud roar of the airplanes.

    The noise of the planes was so loud and regular that on Thursday the family Pekingese went crazy, dove out the kitchen window, shot across the grass and drowned himself in the lake behind the house. Thursday was also the day Paul went golfing as usual.  Stacey went to play Bingo over at St. Michael’s.  Crazy from the heat, she upset a table and smacked a priest before she was asked to leave.  The trip home wasn’t much better.  The thought of going back to that hotbox temporarily glazed her vision and she ran over some mailboxes. Hopefully mailboxes. When she got home it was as hot as she’d expected, still she decided to bake orange muffins.

  When Paul got home from a round of golf, which ended with him dangling from a tree by his right foot, he found that conditions in his house had turned it into a blast furnace.  He went fairly ballistic. 

  “What the hell is wrong with you?  Is that muffins I smell? Are you out of your mind?  I ought to …”. 

    At this point an airplane went overhead and by the time it was gone Paul had a grip on himself.  His apology was lost as the plane flew by low enough to shake the Plates of the World Collection mounted on the walls in the kitchen.  Stacey was very cross about the part of the conversation she heard.

   “You cheap son of a bitch if you had a brain we wouldn’t be sweating like…” that was all she got out before a smaller plane going in the other direction drowned her out. 

  “Oh now wait a minute, you crazy…” right at this moment a lizard ran up Paul’s pants leg and a bug that appeared to have a mouth with fangs at both ends (only in Florida) attacked his neck with what seemed to be berserker rage.

 “Oh sweet Mary mother…”more lost conversation. 

  “What the hell…” more lost words.  The last jet also drowned out the sound of Paul falling through the glass coffee table. 

  “Have you using the Lord’s name in vain you…” lost words plus the sound of Paul climbing out of the table.  The fanged bug was a casualty of the fall, but the fight with the lizard was still on.  Stumbling into the kitchen, arms flailing like a mad man, he (with blood literally in his eyes and shards of glass in his face) searched for and found a weapon.  The ginsu knife rack.  This was the first time since he got home that his wife saw him.  It was clear to her Paul was trying to commit suicide. Obvious to Stacy because he was stabbing himself in the groin.

  For almost thirty years Stacy had been one of those cops who never drew her gun in anger. Hell, in the six years since she retired she had carried her gun more often than she had even seen it back in the property room where she spent the greater part of those thirty years. Lately, she’d taken to wearing it all the time. This is why the request to leave St. Michael’s was just that, a request. This is also why her first response to a perceived suicide attempt was to draw a pistol and aim it at her husband.

  “Drop the knife or I’ll drop you!” she screamed. That sounded so much more authoritative when she practiced saying it (and stuff like it) in the shower. Of course, the 707, flying so low it took shingles off the roof, more than muffled the sound of her voice. When Paul didn’t put down the knives she tried to shoot them out of his hand. She missed. She did get the lizard, which was good. The lizard had made it to Paul’s collar, which was bad.

  Now Stacy had his full attention. Having missed as much of the conversation as she, Paul was under the impression the he was shot for bitching about the oven being on. He managed to stab his wife, of 29 years, 3 times before he bled to death from multiple wounds. She noticed the smoke bellowing out of the oven right before she, also, bled to death.

   The cats moved in with the “lesbian but nice” couple in the cul-de-sac and the oven caused a fire that ultimately burned the house to the ground. The whole thing looked wrong and led to an investigation. That led to public outrage, which then led to the arrest of a transient. Who later confessed to the double murder.

  Some people will do anything to get out of the Florida heat.

 Tampa, Florida

April 22, 2002        

Previosly published in D.R.Hadleys Aphliktion's

Sleeping man

 This piece has been following me around for the last several years. I woke up and found i had been hanging it wrong. I never will again. I'll introduce myself later.