A Nominee For SMH ‘09: “White Boy Clothes”

MUSIC    By David D. on July 24, 2009 at 3:32 pm

This is what I deserve. I spent many a text making fun of DJ Trackstar for missing Slaughterhouse in Chicago a few weeks ago. So he decided to repay me with this little dose of suicide. I watched “White Boy Clothes” and my eyes jumped out of my face and kicked me in the nards while my ears called for a jihad against my solar plexus for exposing them to this idiocy.

Word has it that Henry Louise Gates is trying to re-break into his house so he can go to solitary confinement where this slice of coonery goes to die.

The only way I’m sleeping tonight is if I pretend they jumped at the end and fell to their deaths where they subsequently entered that special circle in Hell where Strom Thrumond is waiting to shove a burning cross into their urethra and pull it back out of their belly buttons.

You know that circle of Hell. It’s the one where the “I Eat The P***y” guys are currently residing.

LC Weber’s too sense: Now, I’m no music elitist (except I am) nor self-proclaimed expert on craptastic tunes (expect I am) but this garbage is bee-rill-iant.

Josh Clemons — neighborhood play cousin of the New Boyz and their Elmo-fitted-rocking friends — picked a genuinely glorious beat and threw some of the most inane lyrics over 808s I’ve heard this side of “Ass N Titties.” I’m not mad at J. Clem for conceptualizing mildly entertaining Caucasian garb into song and dance, but what’s lost here is the irony that most white boys actually wear what they deem to be “Black clothes.”

Whoa. Wait. Stop the presses. We might be onto a stroke of genius here…

So what you’re telling me, Joshua, is in 2009 we have a cyclical chase of white men eyeing trends of black men, and now black men following fashion of white men? How Dickensian! I applaud your attention to detail. Your foresight. Your Victorian-stylized prose on a subject rooted in the mirth and despair of a generation. Not since Captain Hook was chasing the lost boys, who were chasing after wild animals, who were chasing after Indians, who were chasing after Captain Hook, round and round about NeverNeverland have I seen such metaphor for the futility of the hunt.

Bravo!

And thanks again for widening the gaping a-hole of gawdawfulness seeping out of the West, effectively skyrocketing the relevance of the good shit into near oblivion.

Posted in MUSIC, VIDEO, Videos — Tags: DJ Trackstar, Josh Clemons, Rock The Bells Chicago, Slaughterhouse