Tuesday, July 6, 2010

CI #92 -- Changes

Every time I'm in a car listening to the radio, I make a resolution: listen to the radio more. Yeah, like the analog kind. No Pandora, no satellite. Old school.

Why? Because even though radio tends to play the same songs, they're songs we don't normally pick for ourselves. Radio is perhaps the most random form of media consumption these days. With a digital TV guide, I barely even flip channels anymore.

The benefit of radio is that you may end up hearing songs you forgot you liked. For me it was 2pac's "Changes" while I was in NC last week. You better believed I pumped the hell out of the Ford Focus speakers.

The man's mellifluous urban poetry got me thinking: This song is the perfect political yardstick. Forget all this first 100 days, first year crap.

So I wonder
What does 2pac's "Changes" say about Barack's changes? How's he doing? He was supposed to change everything!

Seeing as 2pac is probably not alive, we must evaluate for him.

Here's my arbitrary analysis:

I see no changes all I see is racist faces
misplaced hate makes disgrace to races

Grade: C. I still see racist faces. You can tell which ones there are by looking at them.

And still I see no changes can't a brother get a little peace
It's war on the streets & the war in the Middle East

Grade: D-. Last I checked, we were down to just the one war. Better, but I think Pac would be disappointed.

And although it seems heaven sent
We ain't ready, to see a black President, uhh

Grade: A+. Turns out we are, or most of us are in that we'll not commit ritual suicide as a result (broad strokes here, people). I'm going to go out on a limb and call Barack Obama the most successful black president ever.

Let's change the way we eat, let's change the way we live
and let's change the way we treat each other.

Grade: C-. We're still eating crap. Get on it, Barry! Letter grade moved up one notch for the audacity and down two notches for the shear disrespect of the body displayed by the Double Down.

Overall Grade: C-. Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat, that's the way it is. Uhh.

Enough rambling. RIP, sir.

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