Anyone who knows me pretty much knows me as Anthony David, the singer/songwriter/guitarist, uh, neo-souly kinda guy (which, apparently, is different from R&B, I think, because R&B used to be short for "wack" until recently; now it's being replaced by "neo-soul," and that bothers artists for reasons nobody can remember anymore). Anyway, aside from all of that, what some people don't know is that I am Lord Acey Ducey, emperor of all music within all parts of the universe, known and unknown. Many moons ago, I alone used to determine what songs and artists would debut and be successful. I even had a hand in making sure Mary J. Blige's first album came out so tight, even though she fought me tooth and nail by hiding in a bottle of gin.
Somewhere along the line, however, I lost a bit of my powers to the major labels and Clear Channel. They used Notorious B.I.G. as a pawn, employing his lyrical skills to create a term suggesting to the masses that anyone with his own taste and opinion is essentially a "hater." As a result, I was cast into exile for a few years and forced to leave you, my loyal subjects, with crap to listen to, while you lived in fear of calling it what it really was – bullshit. Nothing, from rap to R&B or anything in between, was allowed to receive criticism if it had big money behind it. Sure, you could kiiiiiiinda say that you didn't love it, but you always had to end that statement with, "But I ain't mad at so-and-so; at least they gettin' that paper!"
While lying in exile in the netherworld, I learned something from the strangest of sources. I watched some news show that talked about a revolution in a place called East Timor. The Timorese wanted to kick the Indonesian occupiers off their tiny piece of island. The Indonesians referred to them with the derogatory name "Maubere." Well, nevermind what they were called, the Timorese had had enough. They formed a militia and kicked some Indonesian ass. And when they created political parties to form a government, they used that name as a point of pride to pull all of the tribes together. I had my solution: Embrace the name and make my enemies pay in full. Henceforth, I would be exactly what the evil forces wanted – A HATER!
From that point on, I've been determined to use that title to pull you all – my minions – back under my control. I have since formed an organization of haters. I don't have a fancy name for it yet (perhaps you can help me with that). But the cause is legit enough to stand on its own merit, and the requirements are clear. Here are a few:
If you heard the wack rap song "This Is Why I'm Hot" and noticed that it had no lyrical quality whatsoever and actually insulted the listeners in the first line of the song; AND you refused to nod your head to it no matter how many gajillion times it was played; AND you don't think the beat is good enough to make you overlook the rest of it – you may be a perfect candidate for our union. (I will allow you to bob your head to the remix because I am a lenient and forgiving emperor. Your transformation will be gradual.)
If you hear a sex song that is clearly marketed toward children under 13 and you're disgusted – especially because it's far too advanced for even a 30-year-old – then you may be a hater.
If you don't enjoy R&B songs that sing about popping bottles in the VIP and riding on 22s because you really don't have any of that, nor is it a priority for you – you definitely fit my profile.
So join millions upon millions of loyal followers. I have plenty of literature and video workshops to immediately get you started in hater status. There are also some "Parameters of Haterhood" – kinda like the Nicene Creed – except I have several of them, which we will cover in due time.
To read Lord Acey Ducey's extended "Parameters of Haterhood," click here.
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