But really, who gives a fuck? This is the name of the game and it always has been. Ironically, I think, this is one of the oldest names of one of the oldest games; a game that is frantically changing and morphing to adapt to a society and a generation that has already morphed and changed unbeknowst to the system while the machine wasn't looking; while the machine was too busy bombing babies and women.
How can you be offended when it's all fair game; if you can say it I can say it and we can all say it about anybody we God-damn well please; that's the beauty of this country; that's the nature of the beast; that's the name of the mothafuckin' game and I guess you just weren't ready to play, gangsta.
Now I want cut off McCain's balls with the lot of them and I want (and I know) O is going to bring on home the Light for us after years and years of dark (even if just for a little while) but for the man who is changing the game and morphing the name I would assume he and his crew could find honor, humor, humility and irony bleeding from the cover of TNY, because it's plain to see to me. The same man who unlike any other before him currently rests his face upon the cover of the current issue of Rolling Stone and was seen not so long ago on the cover of Vibe.
It's irony, pure and simple. A look back at the game and how it's changed through the ages. Where we've come, what we've done and where we are now. Barack Obama's on Rolling Stone, Vibe, BET, The View, PerezHilton too as the friends on his Facebook profile go tick, tick too. You can't swallow a little sat'toon? The oldest of it's kind, the purest and truest of it's form.
That's too bad O, that's too damn bad.
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