Posted tagged ‘racism’

Warning: Don’t Buy Negro Records

February 4, 2014

The other day on Facebook, I noticed a repost of an upload. The upload was a poster warning people not to buy Negro records. Of course, this is a relic from the past. Carl Davidison, editor of Changemaker Press, was the original uploader. Carl Davidson was once the student leader of the leftist organization New Left. The poster itself was created by Citizens Council of Greater New Orleans, a chapter of the anti-integration White Citizens Council. Created in the 1950’s, White Citizens Council existed mostly in the South. After dying out in the 1970’s, the group reformed as Council of Conservative Citizens.

Don't Buy Negro Records



Does This Pic Proves Google Hires Racists?

January 20, 2014

Here I am on this fine MLK Day looking at the stats on my blog.  I study the search word section and what do I see?   Three rows down, I see “happy nigger day!” Now, why in the fuck would Google send these fuckers my way.  As you can see, Google sent them here TWICE. Or is there more to this?  Is this some sneaky shit a Google employee is trying to send me?  I don’t know.  I don’t mind people knocking me for running a music, night life and booty blog. Yet, with me being black, I don’t find “happy nigger day” funny.

On the real tip, I’m not blogging this for sympathy.  I’m blogging to this showing how stupid some people are.

Happy Nigger Day search

Negro DJ Exposed As Racist and Sexist!

November 22, 2011

Dear White Bitch,

I cringe using the words “white bitch”. Yet, that’s who you identified yourself as on my last blog. Speaking of my last blog, let’s show reader’s the ridiculous comment you left. (Click on the pic in order to read it.)

Now I shall address it.

“Reading through your previous posts, all you write about it white people this, and white people that.”        Well, if I don’t pick on white people, who will? On the serious tip, your statement is bullshit.  Of all the diverse things I post, my “race” posts are what you choose to focus on.

“You’re basically a racist.”   You’re right.  I don’t like white people.  Yet, I pose with white women in photos and play “white” music at my gigs in predominately white bars.   Still, you cold busted me.  Only black bigots like myself would own Britney Spears music. Pat yourself on the back for exposing my racist nature, White Bitch.  By the way, Obama 2012.

“You also say nothing good about women.”    You’re right again, I don’t.  Especially when it comes to drunk white women who annoy black DJs.  Instead of pulling the race card, you’re pulling the gender card.  Don’t you love the irony?  According to you, I can’t use race.  Yet, you can pull gender out of your ass.

“Playing songs off a laptop in a shitty bar in sanford does not make you a di, it makes you a loser.” According to who?  You?  Do you even know the definition of the word “DJ”?  Look it up and you’ll find something like this: a person who selects and plays recorded music for an audience.  According to that definition, I accurately fit the description of a DJ.  When it comes to criticizing a DJ’s equipment, I know two types of people who talk like that: other DJs and groupies who will follow anyone they see as important or popular.  I don’t think you’re a DJ.  I think you’re some kind of groupie.

As for the “shitty bar in sanford”, I suspect you’ve been in that place plenty of times.  Why?  Because why would someone call the bar shitty if they have never been there before?  Talking about a place you’ve never been in looks stupid.

Oh yea, Sanford isn’t the only place I DJ in.  I also DJ in Orlando.

“Get off your high horse.”  Okay, White Bitch, let me lay something on you.  You do not tell me what to do.  If I choose to ride the high horse, that’s my decision.  Not yours.  Are you trying to put me “in my place”?

“Looks like someone’s mad they didn’t go to college.”   I honestly do not know where this came from.   Yet, let me point something out.  When you call someone mad, you are referring to mental illness.  The proper word you’re searching for is angry.  You speak better Ebonics than I do.  Are you sure you’re a “white bitch”?  As for your statement, I am angry with myself because I didn’t FINISH college.

White Bitch, I see mostly jealousy in your statements.  What ticks you off about me and my laptop is that I’ve gotten gigs. Me DJing in Sanford, Florida is irrelevant.   You don’t like the fact that what I do works. Incidentally, I know a Lake Mary resident who used to riff about laptop DJs just like you do.  She writes for a local magazine.  Despite your IP address being tracked to Lake Mary, I’m not accusing you of being that woman.  For all I know, you could be one of the drunk white women in my last blog.   A buddy of mine told me one of those women lives in Lake Mary too.

What motivated you to write your statements, White Bitch?  Did you think I was going to stop calling myself a DJ just because YOU said I wasn’t?  Who the hell are you? Did you think labeling me a racist, sexist was going to strike a nasty chord and cause me to cry?  That’s what you were trying to do, weren’t you? You aimed nasty words in order to hurt me.

Deal with it. I’m a DJ who uses a laptop, rides a high horse and talks plenty shit about drunk white women who annoy black DJs.  If you don’t like it, go finger-fuck yourself.

Yours truly,

DJ Stone Crazy

Play Something Cool, DJ

July 13, 2011

For awhile, last Sundays gig cruised positively.  First I warmed up with some rock tunes.  Then, I drifted to some hip-hop. As I did this, I noticed two women dancing near the bar counter.

Now, this is how you have fun.

Speaking of bar counter, again I was sitting at the far right corner of it, typical of my Sunday night gigs at The Peacock. Room.  The Peacock Room exists a five minute drive away from Downtown Orlando, Florida.   August marks my being there for a whole year.

As I focused on people having a good time, a friend of mine walked up to me. At least, I thought he was a friend.

“Virtual DJ,” he went.

The dude’s name was Ray, a white guy who fixes computers.

Virtual DJ is the software I use for gigs.

“I have that,” he said.

“How much you paid for it?” I went.

He ignored my question and stated touching my laptop. Because he ignored my question, I guessed Ray had illegally downloaded the software.

“Go to the sound effects,” he said and pressed my computer to the sound effect page.

“No!” I yelled and changed back to the previous page.

After all the fixing I did with my software, the last thing I needed was someone screwing things up. When I first got it, Virtual DJ automatically altered the BPMs of the songs.  Let’s say the playing song is 95 BPM (beats per minute).  If the next song I choose is 125 BPM, the 95 BPM song automatically speeds up to 125.  And when this happens, Snoop Dogg starts sounding like Alvin and the Chipmunks.   Also, when I first got Virtual DJ, the sound effects automatically came on. Both the BPM and sound effects I had fixed to prevent them from automatically working.   Now, here was Ray fucking with things.

“You’re just now learning the program, aren’t you?” said Ray.

I remained quiet. Actually, I had the program for a year.

Ray left, and I was pissed.  This wasn’t the first time an “expert” played know-it-all with me.  True enough, “experts” of all ethnicities and races worked on my last damned nerves. Still, most of them were white.  Refusing to drop their racial superiority complex, some white people still can’t resist telling black folks what to do.  No wonder many of them have problems with a black president. For once, here’s a black person they can’t boss around.

Having some fun.

I remained focus on keeping the atmosphere positive.   Around 11:30, I placed more focus on hip-hop and dance music. By this time, another woman danced at the bar counter as other folks head nodded to the beats.

Somewhere in the mix, I played Travis Porter’s “Make It Rain”, a hip-hop song.

Again Ray walked up to me.

“Stop playing that ghetto ass music. Play something cool.”

Him saying “ghetto ass music” struck the wrong guitar string with me.

I pointed to the head nodding people.

“Don’t you see those people moving to the music?” I said.

“No, they aren’t,” said Ray.

“Yes, they are.”

“Play something cool.  Play the Cure.  You’re just iTuning it.  You’re not spinning.  I can DJ better than that.”

“Well, do it!”

Ray began leaving. Still, I kept yelling.

“Get your own gig and do it!”

I knew what this was about. I had the gig and he didn’t. And his jealousy was getting the best of him.

Actually, I mix by notes.  Every song contains one main note.  Some notes mix well with others and some don’t.  Virtual DJ tells you the notes.  Sometimes it gets it wrong.  A song saying C could actually be a G song..

Also, I attempt keeping the songs within the five BPM range.  If the current song is 100 BPM, the next song could either be 95 BPM or 105 BPM.

I don’t always follow the methods.  Still, I use it as my guide.

Despite the annoyance, I remained focus on the mix.  By this time, I noticed some bikers nodding to my music.

At the tail end of my gig, I walked outside.  The bikers were getting ready to leave.

“Don’t you play at Little Fish?” one asked.

“Yea,” I said.

As he and I shook hands, we hugged.

I never forgot the night bikers partied to my mix.  Now, they’re recognizing me at other gigs.

Some folks may be better DJs.  Despite that, I still get my props.