The Khalil Amani Reader

Hip-hop/Spirituality/Freethinking. Speaking for all underdogs!

I Ain’t No Blogger! I’m a Raconteur!

I Ain’t No Blogger! I’m a Raconteur!

By Khalil Amani


I’m censoring myself. I’m officially giving up the title blogger! I’m sending myself a “Cease-and-Desist” letter so that I never use this negative and derogatory literary term (blogger) to describe what I do. Why?



Niggas think bloggers are a bunch of no-journalism-degree-having-pseudo-writers who have not a clue about sentence structure, word usage, writing formats and implementing/documenting sound sources, as taught by the Modern Language Association (MLA) and the American Psychological Association (APA)—or Works Cited citations to bolster our arguments. I get it! Blogging is to journalism what essays are to Dissertations. Bloggers are to journalists what rappers are to (real) musicians. Take it how you wanna! In my best Tony Montana (Scarface) impression, “Whoever said bloggers were journalists?” I'm feeling real Tony Montana-ish right about now! I really wanna blast the naysayers of the blogging genre, but instead, I'll just kill the word.



I understand educated folk thumbing their noses up at the blogging genre, but when I hear rappers claiming that bloggers are low-life computer geeks who have no life—keyboard killas—mouse-pad mobsters—Internet thugs—(any ol’ name to slight us) I just wanna remind them of how mainstream musicians once viewed this new genre of music called “rap.” Bullshit, trash, garbage! But rap music went on to become a bona fide musical genre, so shut your yap-trap up when it comes to bloggers and blogging! We out cheah!



Most recently, there’s a VH-1 TV show on called “Gossip Game” (another one of Mona Scott-Young’s coonfests, but I ain’t hatin’ ‘cause The Coonerific One loves that kinda shit!). In the intro, she’s telling the viewers about the hierarchy/pantheon of the hip-hop media and sure enough she says, “At the bottom are the bloggers…” Tha fuck? We have been squarely placed at the bottom of the hip-hop literary food chain. Again, in my best Rodney Dangerfield voice, “We gets no respect! No respect!”


But I wanna drop this blogging title for other reasons as well. As hip-hop goes, blogging and bloggers are simply people who regurgitate, upchuck, vomit, ape, parrot and spit out stories that have been recycled and stepped on. Indeed, there are bloggers who have zero writing skills and couldn't spell their way out of a wet paper bag! Bloggers have become reactive and not proactive. Bloggers aren’t pushing the envelope, but rather playing nice to be part of someone’s Internet site. But “homie don’t play that!” I’m on that nigga-shit—that ratchetness! I’m not here to rehash old news. I’m here to give blogging the Khalil Amani spin! So I’ve gotta distance myself from these other bloggers. Just call me a raconteur!


A raconteur is a story teller, a griot. I’m one anecdotal mofo!


As some of you may know, I’ve recently started blogging raconteuring for this site that shall remain nameless. Awwww fuck it! They claim to be “The World’s Most Dangerous Site.” For years I’ve wanted to write for them! In my mind they were at the top of the heap. Anyone who’s a hip-hop fan knows, right?



Guys! You ever saw a chick that you wanted to bang really bad? Like, you used to see her crossing the street every day and would wave at her. Oh, she was so fine! So fine that you had to muster up the courage to ask her for her digits! She was just the most gorgeous woman you’d ever seen—so much so that when she gave you her number you couldn’t believe that you’d struck pay-dirt! And then the courtship! You wanted those drawhs, but you knew she wasn’t gonna give them up over a super-sized meal at McDonald’s, so you wined her and dined her—sent her flowers and cards and took her to the movies and opened doors for her. You know! The shit that your representative does (the other you) while scheming on those panties.



And then a day came where it happened. She gave you the skins! Finally! You thought you’d found the Holy Grail of Vaginas! All that hard work by your representative (the other you) paid off! In a few minutes there was gonna be some furniture moving—some toes curling—the Stars Spangled Banner and fireworks coming from her box and then, and then, and then… you realized that home-girl was a sour grape—a shrewd prude in the sack. All that time (and money) spent for a beautiful dud.


That’s how I’m starting to feel about She was one beautiful bitch that I just had to have (write for). The fact that she was claiming to be “dangerous” only made me lust after her more. I was gonna fuck the shit out of her! I was gonna split her down to the white meat! Dangerous? I’m gonna check this bitch’s gangsta out of the gate!


The first blog piece I sent her was called, “Kanye West: Where Bitchassness Meets Bitch-de-fied”—where Kanye was whining about being number seven on MTV’s hottest MC list. If publishes this, I’m in love! That blog was Khalil Amani at his best! Shit was cray! I went in with no protection. Straight raw-doggin’ that ass! I wanted to see if she ( would let me hit it like it’s mine! I was gonna ask her, “Whose is it? What’s my name? Say it louder!” I was gonna make her my ride-or-die chick! Nah mean?


Like finding out a chick’s boobs are fake—her ass is shot up with butt injections and her hair came from the Koreans— took my Kanye blog and threw it in the garbage bin before the Internet ink could dry! I can’t let this nigga “shoot my club up” (ejaculate in me) like this! LOL! That beautiful bitch wasn’t as “dangerous” as she was frontin’. She got on her hands and knees (doggie-style) and instead of face down, ass up; she gave me that camel back, so I wouldn’t stick it in too deep. Nah mean?



I can’t give her all this lovin’ ‘cause she ain’t really about that life. She’s looking for a blogger—a mindless computer geek that can give her a quickie—a two-minute brotha who can shoot his load in two paragraphs/stanzas. I’m a raconteur! has some classic Khalil Amani ish in the clip, but won’t fire the gun—from Kanye to 40 Glocc to rappers I wanna beat up. Dare I say I’m more “ill-er” than Illseed?


The truth is—I give less than two-shits about these rappers! Blogging about their lives is an exercise in boredom, because, even though I’m working at The Chicken Shack flouring yard bird for seven bucks an hour—I live a quite exciting life! Before I live vicariously through the coonery and buffoonery of these rappers I'll just keep frying chicken for a living! Believe dat!


Raconteuring is my side passion to writing tomes. Frying yard bird is how I pay my bills. Don't hate!



Whoever the top brass is at—I don’t know who makes the decisions to pull the trigger—who gives the thumbs up to post content and what not. I don’t know if the bigwigs have loss their appetite for “danger”—but what I do know is that you have an exceptional story teller on your team whose looking to be a star in his own right and not merely a commenter, blogger and voyeur of others lives.


I appreciate the opportunity to sport my wares on an exceptional site and I understand that you must protect yourselves from lawsuits and the like, but danger is as danger does. Y’all done hired a different kind of Negro blogger! (And prolly gonna fire this different kind of blogger!) Ah! But I ain’t no blogger! I’m a raconteur!



Khalil Amani is a blogger for AllHipHop. He also writes for DJ Kay Slay’s Originators Magazine & Straight Stuntin Magazine. Amani also writes for Hoodgrown, Maybach and Sext Magazines. He is the author of six books, including the ground-breaking book, “Hip-Hop Homophobes…” 07). Amani is gay hip-hop’s self-proclaimed straight advocate. Visit The Coonerific One at Follow on Facebook/Twitter @khalilamani. Youtube @ yahweh 12



Views: 1829


You need to be a member of The Khalil Amani Reader to add comments!

Join The Khalil Amani Reader

© 2022   Created by Khalil Amani.   Powered by

Badges  |  Report an Issue  |  Terms of Service