JB's 2 CENTS

This issue is coming to you courtesy of BME Records, who gave me a case of Crunk Juice last time I was in Atlanta. I would be passed out on the keyboard otherwise. Who else do you know that can produce an entire magazine in one sitting? I was flipping through a rack of t-shirts on Broadway and came across one that said “Fucking Genius.” It’s so me. Coming soon: JB’s Guide to Fashion. Ballin’ on a budget, you know? And I’m still cute, TJ.

If this is your first time reading OZONE, let me warn you that if you’re looking for a magazine with editorials relevant to hip-hop, this is not the magazine for you. My editorials are sort of just random thoughts. Actually, I can’t come up with a good theme. I’m stuck. Lil’ Jon’s publicist suggested that I write about my travel exploits. He knows that I have this tendency to change travel plans on a whim and fly to random cities without figuring out where I’m gonna go after that. And flying one way is a pain in the ass ‘cause I always have to go through the Super Super Security line where they practically strip search you. Joe, it was a great suggestion, but it would destroy my mystique. Haven’t you ever read the “48 Laws of Power”? People are always asking how I manage to be in fourteen places at once. It’s called time management, but you have a lot more power when you make it look easy. Besides, I know there’s a few haters out there reading my editorials faithfully and plotting my demise. Call me crazy, but I have a war mentality and the worst thing you can do is give your enemy too much information.

I hope y’all enjoyed the sex edition, because my mother didn’t. She must have read it online, because I started getting bizarre email sermons implying that I’m some sort of cheap sex fiend who’s promoting pornography. Hey, I only wish my life was that exciting (that’s called “sarcasm,” mother). But it’s always more fun to keep people guessing, isn’t it? Anyway, I just observe and let other people voice their opinions. The “sex edition” wasn’t intended to promote cheap sex any more than the upcoming “hustler’s edition” is intended to promote drug dealing. In a few months, I’m also going undercover to bring you an exclusive inside look at a real life game of pimps & hoes. Why? ‘Cause I can’t understand why any woman would put herself in that position. I just like to figure people out, get to their “true essence.”

It’s so funny how people think this music game is for real. They’re always like, “Wow! You’re so much nicer than you are in your articles.” It’s just a magazine. It’s artistic expression, it’s venting. It’s not reality. Lil’ Jon doesn’t just bounce around all day flashing his grill, watching strippers and screaming “I don’t give a fuck!” He’s usually more tired than crunk. David Banner isn’t drenched in Hennessy 24/7. The Ying Yang Twins don’t just run around erratically screaming “HANH?” all the time, they also - oh wait. Uh, that’s a bad example. Anyway, the point is, Trick Daddy might be a thug, but he still buys ice cream for all the kiddies when the ice cream man comes around. Rappers are just people, not superheroes. Most of them don’t deserve to be placed on pedestals. Neither do I. So stop kissing my ass, it’s irritating.

I almost died last week. Headed to Tampa in heavy rain, I had to slam on the brakes coming around a curve on the freeway and the brakes locked. So my truck goes spinning backwards in circles into oncoming traffic. My life flashes before my eyes and all I can think is “pump the brakes, pump the brakes” and I land safely on the right shoulder of the road. Lately I’ve also developed this habit of waking up in my truck in really odd locations without any recollection of how I got there. For example, when I drove from Miami to Jacksonville to Atlanta overnight after two days without sleep for the Ying Yang Twins’ video shoot (see how much I love y’all?), I woke up at a random Chevron. Then there was the marathon Tampa > Gainesville > Orlando > Miami > Belle Glade > Orlando trip. And the Orlando > Jacksonville > Tampa > Tallahassee trip. I don’t remember either one of those very clearly. But, there’s still room for improvement. I haven’t been hospitalized yet like certain people, so I must not be working hard enough. I need to step my game up.

There won’t be any publicist bashing in this issue. I said my piece last month. I promised Wendy I would be nice, so... I love publicists! Publicists are my friends.

But what’s up with all these artists refusing to do interviews unless they get the cover? Kanye West, Cassidy, etc? Negro please. Are white people allowed to say that? Speaking of “Negro Please,” OZONE got quoted in XXL this month. We’re an official magazine now. That makes me very, very dangerous.

I’m a problem. - Julia Beverly, jb@ozonemag.com