Posted 10:13 PM by Alfred

guest blogger: muscle68

Keith's on a vaca, his clones went home...Red phone rang, picked up. Im coming, commish, be right there. Here to watch the henhouse, but Imma rooster, might be trouble.

6-8. Name's simple, but means much. To me.

Whatcha gonna do?

Imma switch it on em. Yeah, flipmode. Flipmode's the greatest. Consider the script, flipped. Sometimes, you gotta drop knowledge and sometimes a new venue is where that knowledge feels best.

Kool Keith, yeah, K deuce, gives me the canvas, blank, says take it and run with it, but I egged him on to do it, he caved, and said Fo Sho. You step out of your own little blog shell and you realize new neighborhood, new attitude. Gotta adapt, gotta make changes to survive. Evolve. Typing keys, letting Double K's template embrace and hold me. Feels good to be the first to do this, since this was where I first visited when I got plugged in Neo style to the Blogtrix.

Sometimes, you feel like Barbara Eden, but as Jeanie, you know? Trapped in a bottle, only coming out when someone wants you to, you don't have a choice. Cesar Romero, make up on to cover the real you. Frank Gorshin type style, half masks, not giving away all of you. Good or bad, you're putting on a front, a mask, something to cover you up. You got Batman, icon, man numero uno, top guy, and he's wearing a mask. Maybe you're on his style, ya know? Not ashamed of your true self, but afraid of what would happen if you did let yourself be you. Gene Simmons-esque, lose make up, lose support. Who knows?

Struggle everyday to do what's right, acceptable. Just one of those Robert Mitchum love/hate things. The world's black and white, good and evil, but sometimes, good's gotta be evil, get a little dirty to vanquish evil. White's gotta get a lil grey and smudgy to make it happen. Mischief to bring joy. Nothing wrong with that. Show 'em the left, blindside 'em with the right.

But do they want the truth? Lois did, she got it, and then Supes said, hell nah, gotta erase that, Krypton lips...slate wiped clean. Stately Wayne Manor held many beautiful women, some got the truth, and they bolted. Too real. Too true. Maybe you can find that ride or die gal, though, ya know? Mary Jane Watson type flava. Here's a whiskey glass raised for you, hope you find it. I'm still scannin horizons to find it.

So until then, I'mma ride into the sunset, Alan Ladd, Shane shit, ya know? Come back come back Shane! they'll yell, but I'll just keep riding. My job is finito, finished. Maybe pull an Art Vandalay, ride to the Hampton house, with my two solariums, and my horse, Prickly Pete. Import export biz, can always fall back on that. Architects are always needed. But ain't no way I'm selling latex. No future in that.

Stay true to yourself...Kizzol Keith always does, and that's why he's got my respect. I got his back, he's got mine. Green Hornet to my Kato. He can be Bats, I'll be Robbin'. Cloak Dagger style, but movie version. Dabney Coleman. Indy and Short Round, etc, ipso facto, blah blah. You get me.

Word.

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