No Longer Pure

I finally did it.

Admittedly, I felt dirty. Walking out of the store, I felt like I left a piece of my inside. A piece of me that began with Lisa Lisa and Cult Jam, a piece that got mixed up on the mike with Q-Tip and my Midnight Marauders cassette tape. A piece of me that danced with Kid and Play and Heavy D clad in pink and purple leg warmers and a sky blue headband, pony tail to the side. Lol

I...
bought...
an...
iPod...

A while back I posted about the inherent evil of these little plastic devices.
See "Bucking the Force."And while, I'm much too stubborn (read: "hard-headed") to recant anything at all that I wrote (oddly enough, I still agree to some extent with our music's place as status symbol rather than communal property), I must admit that this little credit card-sized music device is the best thing since red Koolaid, Garbage Pail Kids cards and white boots on Rick James! Bought at a "huster's price" of $199? Sadly, yesssss. Looks about as sturdy as a future Flavor Flav marriage? Yessss. But, as Whitney loves the pipe, like Tina loved Ike, so am I wedded to this thing.

Every day, without fail, it takes me from George Benson's "The World is a Ghetto" to Talib Kweli's "The Blast" to Diana Ross' "Touch Me in the Morning". Express train, no local stops. On the way home from work, there are "Disco Nights" courtesy of GQ and "Never Can Say Goodbye", brought by my local sponsor, the Hot Buttered Soulman Mista Isaac Hayes.

About two weeks ago, after my CD player skipped for the umpteenth time while playing Curtis Mayfield's "Move on Up" and getting my jog on, I resolved to upgrade. After looking at several PC magazines that reviewed mp3 players, I decided that Apple seemed to have the best reivews. So, I drove to a New Jersey land of the pristine melaninless shops (give you a hint: no one around had an "eesha" component to their names) and entered the store aiming to buy an iPod shuffle. As John Steinbeck wrote, "The best laid plans of mice and men..."

After much thought, I punked out and decided I could not be a third-class iPod citizen, as my fellow subway riders would openly scoff at my inferior device. I made my concerns known to the very kind salesman who said, "There's no shame in the Shuffle." I said, "But alas, I work in New York City." He laughed, nodded and said, "We'll they're just a bunch of iPod snobs up there anyway." I stood, gazing at the mulititude of black and white shiny new Nanos and wondered if they really were equal to their littler siblings, who stuffed in a store corner sans their own display, were segregated, seemingly as "3/5ths of an MP3".

I debated and delayed it. And then, deeming it appropriate in regard to my ongoing quest to sell out for the filthy lucre, I decided to *cough* join "the force". I make no apologies. Lol. (You will not get me to admit I am on the right path, as I still believe Apple is engaged in some sort of secret mass mind control tactics.) But, when I play old Michael-Lisa Lisa-Stevie-and Earth Wind and Fire, it seems that you could tell me nothing.

And so, on I rock.