Old school why?

Let me first start out with this random: The Jules/Smokey Robinson connection is undeniable. We're on to you Solange. It is what it is.

Now back to our regularly scheduled programming.

One of the biggest hangups The Hostile Negress has had in starting her rant log has hisotrically been, well, how to start. Should the initial posting be witty and informative, luring readers in only to spring the hostility forth like a cobra pouncing from beneath a basket? Should it be a short intro into my world of sour looks and sideways comments? I haven't answered these questions and don't plan to. The effort, frankly, makes my nostrils flare and has delayed the earnest start of this shout fest for at least six months. Instead, I'm just gonna jump right out the window on this one and just go in on whatever strikes my fancy. Today children, that is a very serious cultural question involving the relevance of Chubb Rock.

These are the topics that keep great minds up at night.

Having been recently excommunicated to the Island of Yesternegro, also known as Florida (more on that never), I almost immediately began searching for ways to curb my sudden desire to hum negro spirituals whilst shucking corn. That's when I learned of a little something called the Florida Classic. A Battle of the Bands. Bethune Cookman involved. Rick Ross somehow in the swirl. (Patience grasshopper, at least two blogs on the attendant coonery are forthcoming this weekend.) What more could one ask for? I'll tell you what more - an after party headlined by Kid n Play (blank stare), Monie Love, Black Sheep and Chubb Rock. This will be popping off in Central Florida this weekend.

Being equal in my hostility, I will express general disturbance at all of these 40 somethings getting on stage to do something that will invariably sadden me for a spread of Original Recipe and a chance at regaining the glamorest life (side eyes on the prize.) But I have to offer a special hell and no to the Chubb Rock inclusion. He had ONE SONG. It was in 1990- he says it right there in the first verse, lest you forget how many presidents have passed since this man held a mic. To put things in perspective, in 1990:

- High top fades were still viable
- Bobby Brown had a career
- Hammer pants were being worn
- Better yet, patent leather shoes with lace ribbons were being worn
- 227 and Amen were on tv (don't do that, you watched then and you watch now!)

Even as I approach my 400th year, I simply still can't align myself with the old school concerts. I have no interest in shaking my shimmy to anything put out before I had a menstrual cycle. And my spirit and the spirits of my ancestors will NOT let me support this Chubb Rock shenanigan. I can't, I won't, you can't make me. Let's join hands and pray about it.

Now pardon me while I rock my hips to something from the Obama years - Gucci!!