So I’ve had an interesting weekend in Los Angeles (Jan. 10-11). I was part of a gay “hip-hopera” (play) produced by Los Angeles gay rapper Deadlee called “Street Cred 101.” The premise of the play was to deconstruct the notion that a gay rapper has no street credibility and to ask the question—why is street cred valid in hip-hop?

The cast of “Street Cred 101

Ever since Tyra Banks did a show on gay rappers, which was challenged by some no-name straight rapper named Ajaxx, that hip-hop would not allow a gay rapper to gain mainstream acceptance, the gay hip-hop community is hell-bent on destroying that myth.

Khalil Amani & gay rapper Nano Reyes

Truly, “Street Cred 101” was a groundbreaking production for hip-hop! I played the role of the teacher with the gay rappers as my students. Between my spiels on “Why Gay Hip-Hop,” “Is the Bible the Truth,” “Street Cred,” and “The Anus Argument,” gay rappers Foxxjazell, Salvimex, Deadlee, Downlow, Qpid, Prince Cat-Eyez, Bry’Nt, Last Offence, Nano, and Captain Magik spit verses—driving home the point that they are gay, out, talented and proud… and fuck street credibility!

The event was covered in the Los Angeles Times (the 2nd largest newspaper in the country for all the haterz of gay hip-hop). And for my haterz here, and on other hip-hop sites, they quoted the “irrelevancy” of ya boy Khalil Amani! (lol) Here’s a snippet of what the LA Times wrote:

One of the subgenre’s most outspoken supporters and the author of “Hip-Hop Homophobes,” [Khalil] Amani maintains that it’s only a matter of time before a gay rapper enjoys a major commercial breakthrough. “Homophobia is ingrained in the African American community because of the church’s teachings,” said Khalil Amani, who bills himself as a spiritual advisor to gay hip-hop. “But voices like Kanye epitomize the new generation, who aren’t as concerned about macho posturing. He’s a bridge between old and new. How many other rap artists are willing to stop their concert at Madison Square Garden and tell their fans to stop being homophobic?” “Homophobia is strong, but a gay rapper will cross over; it’s going take the right person at the right time to be a Jackie Robinson,” Amani said. “It’s definitely growing. I personally know at least 130 gay, bisexual or transgendered rappers, whereas only a handful existed even 10 years ago. It will happen, and when it does, a lot of people will be mad and a lot will be excited.” (Get hip; this is life y’all, by Jeff Weiss Jan. 10 Calendar Section) (For full article http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/music_blog/2009/01/deadlee-and-the.html)

Not bad for an old dude who blogs/advocates for the rights of fags! (Stick yo’ self DeWigga, Juan-nita & Bol-weevil!) Just wait till they get a load of me in Spin Magazine! Lol!

Yes! It was a great weekend with my gay children. (Shout-out to Deadlee for his vision and creativity!)

Gay rapper, actor Deadlee & Khalil Amani

On “Buffie The Body…” I didn’t receive a lot of response on this site, but elsewhere I got everything from hate to hilarious. Davey D ran that blog. I’m always honored when my shyt airs over there! I got a personal email from Buffie The Body. Her response? “This is so cool!!!!! I’m feeling it! I read it! Thanks so much for the kind words!!!! I love it!!!!!!!” Legendary hip-hop icon/VJ Fab 5 Freddy hit me up with one word, “Brilliant!” DJ KaySlay, the “Drama King” (Buffie’s ex-jump off/boyfriend) hit me up to tell me that the radio incident with Buffie happened a few years ago (which I found out after the fact). We went on to have a spirited debate over gays in hip-hop. He wasn’t feeling the idea of gays doing hip-hop. (Like really, what should I expect?) I was quite surprised that he indulged me in that conversation. KaySlay sent me a total of seven emails defending the heterocentric idea of hip-hop. Sadly, he’s got a warped mentality of “manhood.” Somehow, in his world, “manhood” is directly linked to sexuality. WTF!

I’m just elated to know that highbrow hip-hop heads are reading my shyt, regardless of their position. He may not agree with me, but I put something on his cerebellum!

This other site (Highbridnation), known for its microwave blogging style (3-5 sentence blogs), which had previously blogged about me, came at me again. Blogger Juan, who took a little lashing from me over the Buffie blog took aim at me, abandoning microwave blogging, wrote his longest blog yet—about lil ol’ irrelevant me! ([Putting] the Hetrosexual Gay Blog Heckler In His Place.) He wrote, “…this bizzaro Ice-T, hip hop’s geriatric blogger…the only thing less relevant than you and your tired ass pleas for attention is your blog…However when it comes to Khalil Amani, his tactics are transparent. Obviously a well educated individual, he shows the promise as a quality adversary…” Oh, this Negro aired me out! (lol!) Blogger Juan writes, “…to declare the video vixen as Hip-Hop’s 5th Element is not only blasphemous but also discredits anything you subsequently had to say.” Tell that to Fab 5 Freddy! He thought the Buffie blog was “brilliant! lol! You would’ve thought that I was declaring that Jesus was not the Christ! Fuck outta here!

Obviously peeved that I called him out on his shitty grammar and misspelling of Buffie’s name, he had to dig down deep and go over my blog with a fine-tooth comb to find a grammatical error, which was so minute, that only a trained English theoretic would notice—Consulting his college grammar book he found an error in my blog, writing, “its [sic] not (sic) dick.” Lol! Ya got me Juan! But in reality, how many heads know what [sic] means and that it should be in brackets? They damn sho’ know that Buffie’s name is not spelled Buffy! You’ve been watching too much of the “vampire slayer!”

In closing, blogger Juan issued the ultimate warning/threat?, “Stand down Khalil, that’s your last warning.” Ooooh, I’m so scurrrrred!! (Memo to dipshit: It’s only blogging idiot! If that doesn’t suffice, then the next time you’re in the 305 “Miami” come see me! Don’t let my old age and this gay blogging shyt get you fucked up! I’ve got goons that love my dirty drawhs too!)

I’ll be “hip-hop’s geriatric [old] blogger,” but my ideas are fresher, newer, outside the box, and more cutting-edge than your average twenty-something blogger and I ain’t just talking about the gay shyt I write! Neither am I rehashing/recycling the bullshit from Allhiphop and Worldstarhiphop and other copycat sites to stay “relevant.” (I love those sites though!) (Shout-out to Shelby Powell aka Shelz! I’m so fucking impressed with your work! Keep doin’ the damn thang ma!)—“No Sycophanting!” J

How do you write your biggest blog about someone who you say is “irrelevant?” Your actions are contradicting your own words! Really Lol! Irrelevancy warrants no response!

What hip-hop blogger is more “relevant” and known than Byron Crawford/Bol? Would you agree that he is on top of the hip-hop blogging heap? Yet, he’s written three blogs about this “irrelevant” Khalil guy! (Not to mention that he name-drops me in other blogs as well!)

As long as Allhiphop.com, Daveyd.com, Thuglifearmy.com, Highbridnation.com, Byroncrawford.com, Outhiphop.com, Gayagenda.com, Rainbowmuzik.com, Vibe, Spin and the Los Angeles Times are publishing my words—if that’s what “irrelevancy” is about—I’ll stay irrelevant! I’ll gladly pull my own chain when “hate” rears its ugly head! Lol! So much to “laugh out loud” about in early ’09!

You know what’s funny? Niggas have gotten tired of calling me “faggot” and now they’re honing in on my age! I can’t wait to see how some of these folks look when they are two-score and eight years of age! (48) Hell, some of y’all look older than me now, with your old-looking young asses! Some of y’all in your twenties already have weight issues—ol’ flabby-ass, man-tit having, love-handle carrying, hotdog neck, cankle-legged, 12-pack toten, thunder thigh scraping, double-chin turkey gobbling, hairline receding, disgusting fat-bodies! (Bol) I ain’t in the greatest shape, but I can still see my schlong when I look down!

Aaliyah used to sing, “Age ain’t nothin’ but a number.” Tru’ dat! Age is, first, a state of mind and secondarily a physical state of being.

Fall From Grace

I met a lot of interesting people in LA. One, in particular, was this old lady who had a room on the first floor of the motel I was staying at. (I could’ve stayed at a really nice hotel, but I figured I’d get a room as close to the theater to save money on taxis and shyt!) I relate this story because it is one of tragedy and how God can give you the world and just snatch that shyt right from under your feet!

There was nothing peculiar about this old woman. As I headed upstairs late Saturday night, I greeted her with a friendly “hello” and kept it moving. As I got halfway up the stairs I turned around and said, “What are you doing outside at two in the morning?” Smiling, she said, “Just taking a smoke. I’ve been sick all day and I’m just starting to feel better.” Curiously, I turned around and went back down stairs and sat with her as she smoked and began to spill her guts about her former life.

As she talked, I was making mental notes about her appearance—white woman, well-spoken, gray hair mixed through blond hair, pink terrycloth bathrobe, a huge zit in the middle of her forehead, reminiscent of a Hindu pottu (dot), a bruise on her left cheek—a typical bag lady… so I thought! What was peculiar about this scraggly-looking woman was that her fingernails were immaculate! Her nails were acrylic with a beautiful coat of clear polish with white tips. This was strange! It just didn’t go with her overall appearance! This seemed quite odd to me and as she told her story it became evident why her hands were still beautiful—that part of a fading life that reminded her of the old days as a Hollywood diva—old money got away.

Here’s a woman that used to hobnob with high society—with rich people—a woman who dated movie stars and hung out with the likes of multimillion dollar drug kingpin Pablo Escobar (whom she initially thought was a busboy at a high-end [white] restaurant because he was the only non-white there). This woman was the heiress to the Texaco gas and oil company! She used to live off of a $30,000 a month stipend and an American Express Card with a $1,000,000 (1 million) a year credit limit! (Paid for by poppa!)

WTF happened?

Reduced to living in a one bedroom motel with six animals (cats, dogs, rabbit, lizard), this woman had fallen from the graces of her adopted parent’s old money when her adopted father passed away. She was smooth cut off from the family treasure! According to her, her adopted mother thought that her husband loved her more and was always jealous of her relationship with her dad and as soon as he died, mommy dearest cut her off from the family wealth.

The details of her life were so fantastic! The things she spoke and the people she knew were among Hollywood’s A-list celebrities. She even knew my *friend/agent, Joan Dangerfield, the wife of the late Rodney Dangerfield! She told me where they used to get their hair done—where she got her Botox treatments—where they used to dine. (I confirmed her story with Ms. Dangerfield the next day.) (*Side note: Blogger Juan wrote, “…keep writing your wack ass books that probably won’t top Central High’s Best Seller list…” Nigga, I’ve got Ms. Dangerfield reppin’ my shyt! I’m negotiating a six-figure deal for one of my books as a screenplay, so that’s hateful, wishful thinking on your part!)

This old lady, as it turned out, was just a few months younger than me! But physically, life had beaten her ass down something fierce! She looked every bit late 50-ish, but upon closer observation, she was indeed beautiful. Her looks just kind of crept up on me and before I knew it, I could see what other men saw in her back in the day. Really looking at her now, she told me she’d had plastic surgery on her eyelids, nose and breast implants (I later caught a peak at her breasts and indeed, they were big and perky!) I could see the artificiality of her plastic surgery.

She confided in me that when she lived that life she did look down on the less fortunate. She was a snob in every way. Black people, minorities—she had no compassion for poor people and now here she was, sitting, sorrowful about how her life has turned out.

From her motel room, where she’s been confined for seven years, she runs an Internet porn site. The best part of this story is that she still hopes for a better life. Her spirit is not broken. Having had it all, she has convinced herself that it’s all part of a greater plan and that when that day comes she is going to be a better person for it and help the less fortunate.

As much as I wanted to thumb my nose at her misfortune, I felt nothing but sympathy for her—the same sympathy I feel when I read about a hip-hop star’s fall from grace. The lesson learned is that no matter what our status in life—how much money we have, we are but one circumstance from tragedy and poverty, so let us count our blessings this year and be a more compassionate hip-hop nation. That’s what this lady’s life taught me! We vowed that we would keep in touch. One never knows why certain people come into our lives. (Hebrews 13:2

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