A long time ago, in a galaxy pretty damn close actually, your favorite blogger in the whole wide world was once an MC. I always look back rather affectionately on the days when my main goals in life were crafting eyebrow raising similes and delivering obscure references with the straightest of faces - as my dear parents prayed to the good lord every night that he'd bless me a "respectable profession", I stayed in the studio, hoping that the haphazard penmanship plastered in my worn notebook would be quoted by Hip Hop fans of all walks of life for decades to come. Back then, and to some extent now, I always viewed the path of a true MC to be similar to some garden variety kung-fu master you might have seen in a movie once - even though he could mercilessly whip anyone you put in front of him, he still tirelessly continued to hone his craft in search of reaching that higher level. Regardless of how good I thought I was, I'd constantly devour books that I wouldn't have usually given a second look to, poured over thesauruses, routinely tinkered with awkward rhyme flows and unique cadences to have a more well rounded lyrical arsenal - hoping to one day exhibit a freaky yellow glow around my body while rhyming on some "Last Dragon" shit. But obviously, being blamed for all of society's ills by opportunistic politicians and finding myself on some ham-fisted panel about Hip Hop on popular talk shows hosted by Oprah was not to be my fate. Those who can't, teach, those can't rhyme for a living, hate. That's why its so easy for me to mercilessly criticize the lyrically ineptness of the likes of Plies and Lil Wayne, its not out of some sort of deep seeded envy born out of my own unfulfilled microphone endeavors - but because I fundamentally think that they suck, and often get the sneaking suspicion that most primates could do their jobs for them with the greatest of ease.
That being said, if I was to take a step backwards and be completely honest with myself, I'd come to the conclusion that my tenure as a professional rapper would have been an absolute disaster rife with public blunders. Sure, I'm confident that my lyrical skills would have probably kept me on an even keel with most of my contemporaries, but I have so many nonsensical neuroses that my musical career would have seemed like one continuous episode of "Seinfeld". Coming from a guy who has never met a sucker punch that I didn't like, I'd be hesitant to exude anything coming remotely close to studio tough talk, always fearing that some ass-hat residing in my hometown would expose my catholic school background, my penchant for skateboarding, and my undying love for Janeane Garofalo. But most of all, the main reason why my rap career would have spontaneously combusted before it even got off the ground, is the decorum surrounding diss records that has always aluded me for some reason. I mean, do you just go "nuclear" on anyone who even mentions your name in passing and proceed to forcibly realign their raw at the next award show? Should you only respond to viable opponents and simply ignore the legions of lesser known rappers who are trying to make a name for themselves while sullying yours? Lastly, I'm a criminally lazy procrastinator, I can see myself angrily starting to write a response record only moments after hearing the opening salvo - then finding myself two months later, apologizing for my laziness by saying "Maybe when there was some hidden meaning in him calling my mother a crackwhore!"
That being said, after detailing the plethora of shortcomings I have in terms of the subject, after closely observing Barack Obama over this past year - its abundantly clear to me that the man should have been an MC. Don't get me wrong now, I'm not implying that being the leader of the free world and having your black staff members refer to you as the H.N.I.C with a wink and a nod is less glamorous as recouping your advance money or guest starring on someones misguided mix-tape - but like most gifted wielders of microphone apparatuses, he has proven himself to be extremely quick on his feet. Not only that, but when you factor in the way in which he controls crowds, how he nonchalantly brushes off the multitude of haters, even the wordplay he pulls out of his arsenal that would make any lover of the written lyricism crack a smile. But most of all its the mans response time that has impressed me the most, the counter-punch he threw last week after John McCain played "Shirley" to George W Bush's "Laverne" when our president tried to play politics in front of Israel's Knesset - and every time you hear Obama's chin music for McCain concerning Iran and his Lobbyist ties, you can't help to wonder much better it would have sounded over a Premo track.