In his latest hit Untouchable, Eminem censures the political right by invoking the "hands up" slogan and painting the portrait of a marginalized black man, as contrasted against the "untouchable" white boy.
In this highly ironic gesture, Marshall Mathers only furthers the notion that there is some discernible difference between so-called whites and blacks, even advancing a false archetype by framing the black boy as a drug addict: "Probably comin' from the dope house."
From the very beginning of this political diatribe, Mathers rushes immediately into the false white-black paradigm before carefully examining specific instances of implied racism.
Of course, the hefty implications here point unambiguously toward extant institutional racism, believed to have been grounded in traditions woven into the fabric of the red, white and blue.
However, had Mathers taken his history and statistics courses a bit more seriously, if he had even taken them at all, he may very well appreciate the concept of disproportionate outcomes spawning from disproportionate representation.
Given, the United States federal government has long proved to be a contemptible heap of profligacy and primal degradation, vaulting mediocre men into powerful positions which they would have ordinarily failed to secure of their own might without the reach and grasp of those lengthy tentacles of government.
Yet born of this loathsome degradation is a tremendous hatred for the traditions which once surrounded it, irrespective of both their specific impact and their accounted contributions to the perceived problem.
Also caught up in the conflict is the subject of personal discretion and free speech, two human elements which, at any moment, threaten to upend the newly-minted conventions of the fashionable penmen.
So the inheritors of this weighty and disfigured outcome rush to discard the totality of the former circumstances instead of diagnosing the root causes of these phenomena.
They intend to balance the wrongdoings with an overcompensating zeal for further curtailments of freedom, this time for those whose own profiles relatively closely match those of history's decided villains.
The movement will not be silenced, even despite the philosophical contradiction.
As such, Eminem rhetorically shouts, "We don't care what our government's done to fuck you over, man."
Somehow, though, Em is able to convince himself to join the Leftist cult to embolden the modern government which hinges to a framework identical to the old.
Then he goes on to claim: "We're applying, but McDonald's seems to be the only franchise that'll hire."
Now, this is clear hyperbole in several directions. First, Eminem's net worth presently hovers around $190 million, so it is hardly conceivable that he would ever qualify for that "we" statement.
Next, McDonald's is hardly the only employer which is currently hiring, as illustrated by recent Job Openings and Labor Turnover Survey (JOLTS) findings.
Finally, there is a substantial difference between a simple application and a prepared applicant.
After another breath, Mathers castigates America, "'Cause [it] segregated us, designated us to an area, Separated us, Section-Eight'd us."
Once again, Eminem commits the error of conflating the nation with the government. America is not the federal government, just as the federal government is not America.
Notwithstanding his apparent acknowledgement of the failed policies of the past, destructive FHA loans and HUD programs, Eminem still ostensibly supports government action to address a problem that it originally created or, in other cases, exacerbated.
Eminem finally removes his mask and states pointedly, "Fuck your Republican views."
Meanwhile, statism broadly is at the center of these cited problems, while the Republican Party was specifically founded in 1854 to abolish slavery.
Ultimately, Eminem goes far out of his way to cloak his weak understanding of history, using language that is only vaguely relatable yet far from even remotely presenting anything specific or usable for call to action.
Mathers deals well above the clouds, as matter is less dense and less turbulent up there, and when the future bears little to no marked change, his lyrics will linger as moderately-relatable word vomit that captures a moment's sentience over any shred of meaningful sentiment.
Each of us has a plight, a unique underdog story, so there is something for everyone to glean from this ill-specific temper tantrum.
But just as coloring and pop-up books, cartoons and motion pictures, and even cereal boxes, tell a teasing tale, the complexion of words can be often mistaken for bearing more truth than fantasy, more import than conviction, or more documentary than fiction.
So don't allow the rhythm and the blues to distract you from the data and the clues, as the rhyme carries a precarious chime over an over-convoluted storyline driven merely by a whirring emotion splashed with the dizzying potion from a famed artist's dazzling implosion.
In this highly ironic gesture, Marshall Mathers only furthers the notion that there is some discernible difference between so-called whites and blacks, even advancing a false archetype by framing the black boy as a drug addict: "Probably comin' from the dope house."
From the very beginning of this political diatribe, Mathers rushes immediately into the false white-black paradigm before carefully examining specific instances of implied racism.
Of course, the hefty implications here point unambiguously toward extant institutional racism, believed to have been grounded in traditions woven into the fabric of the red, white and blue.
However, had Mathers taken his history and statistics courses a bit more seriously, if he had even taken them at all, he may very well appreciate the concept of disproportionate outcomes spawning from disproportionate representation.
Given, the United States federal government has long proved to be a contemptible heap of profligacy and primal degradation, vaulting mediocre men into powerful positions which they would have ordinarily failed to secure of their own might without the reach and grasp of those lengthy tentacles of government.
Yet born of this loathsome degradation is a tremendous hatred for the traditions which once surrounded it, irrespective of both their specific impact and their accounted contributions to the perceived problem.
Also caught up in the conflict is the subject of personal discretion and free speech, two human elements which, at any moment, threaten to upend the newly-minted conventions of the fashionable penmen.
So the inheritors of this weighty and disfigured outcome rush to discard the totality of the former circumstances instead of diagnosing the root causes of these phenomena.
They intend to balance the wrongdoings with an overcompensating zeal for further curtailments of freedom, this time for those whose own profiles relatively closely match those of history's decided villains.
The movement will not be silenced, even despite the philosophical contradiction.
As such, Eminem rhetorically shouts, "We don't care what our government's done to fuck you over, man."
Somehow, though, Em is able to convince himself to join the Leftist cult to embolden the modern government which hinges to a framework identical to the old.
Then he goes on to claim: "We're applying, but McDonald's seems to be the only franchise that'll hire."
Now, this is clear hyperbole in several directions. First, Eminem's net worth presently hovers around $190 million, so it is hardly conceivable that he would ever qualify for that "we" statement.
Next, McDonald's is hardly the only employer which is currently hiring, as illustrated by recent Job Openings and Labor Turnover Survey (JOLTS) findings.
Finally, there is a substantial difference between a simple application and a prepared applicant.
After another breath, Mathers castigates America, "'Cause [it] segregated us, designated us to an area, Separated us, Section-Eight'd us."
Once again, Eminem commits the error of conflating the nation with the government. America is not the federal government, just as the federal government is not America.
Notwithstanding his apparent acknowledgement of the failed policies of the past, destructive FHA loans and HUD programs, Eminem still ostensibly supports government action to address a problem that it originally created or, in other cases, exacerbated.
Eminem finally removes his mask and states pointedly, "Fuck your Republican views."
Meanwhile, statism broadly is at the center of these cited problems, while the Republican Party was specifically founded in 1854 to abolish slavery.
Ultimately, Eminem goes far out of his way to cloak his weak understanding of history, using language that is only vaguely relatable yet far from even remotely presenting anything specific or usable for call to action.
Mathers deals well above the clouds, as matter is less dense and less turbulent up there, and when the future bears little to no marked change, his lyrics will linger as moderately-relatable word vomit that captures a moment's sentience over any shred of meaningful sentiment.
Each of us has a plight, a unique underdog story, so there is something for everyone to glean from this ill-specific temper tantrum.
But just as coloring and pop-up books, cartoons and motion pictures, and even cereal boxes, tell a teasing tale, the complexion of words can be often mistaken for bearing more truth than fantasy, more import than conviction, or more documentary than fiction.
So don't allow the rhythm and the blues to distract you from the data and the clues, as the rhyme carries a precarious chime over an over-convoluted storyline driven merely by a whirring emotion splashed with the dizzying potion from a famed artist's dazzling implosion.
Comments
Post a Comment