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hannibal tabu's column archive: damage control (printed columns)
consider yourselves ... warned!

A dark shadow spread across the land. Deep into the second generation of hip hop, those who laid the road that Lex coupes and tricked out Benzes rolled upon were left in periphery, occasional lyrics and breaks resurrected in anonymous tribute on intermittent soundtracks. The current flagbearers let colors drape in dust, either unconcerned or indifferent to past trials. The idea of a world without rap music is alien to them, wrapped in beat boxed commercials and thinking that's the natural order. It was much like what the old man told the traveler looking for the Black peoples of Sumeria: "They lost their history, and they died."

Finally, the call came from the well-hidden Hall of Justice. The Commissioner was sickened by the decay, indifference, and general eaus de wackness that wafted in the air between indo smoke and monochromatic basslines. He needed a professional. Someone with lyrical might and seasoned field expertise to sweep in like a summer storm in Memphis. Someone to follow the tradition of The Empress and A & B. He booted up his weary Macintosh, scrolled through Filemaker Pro database, and found ... the operative.

The Commissioner muttered, "Let's see ... successfully terminated Shakur, escaped unscathed. Turned down Biggie job to spend weekend with girlfriend, but came back with stunning smorgasboard of hits -- made Tartikoff job look like Hodgkin's disease, smoked Versace and pinned it on anonymous botti boy, and finally attached small explosive to bottom of Princess' car, causing weeks of shameless media exploitation, hit Mother Teresa on the way home, just for for kicks, mind you ... even killed a Kennedy ... this guy can't be stopped! This is the man we need on Damage Control."

Across the City of Lost Angels the phone rang, was picked up on ring one to the greeting, "Madness Media, what you want?" A brief description of the assignment, discussion of technical and financial considerations, and a gentlemen's agreement. That's how it all started.

The assignment: Terminate anybody not conforming to dictates from the Chosen and the Soul Review Board, whatever it takes. The operative: jaded and grizzled veteran lyricist Hannibal Tabu, the Lord of The Storm.

The evolution will be broadcast on pay-per-view, with interactive voting as to whether Pete Wilson should be eviscerated or defenestrated. Stay tuned as we make some people very ... unhappy.

LEGAL NOTE: Damage Control is a column published monthly by Rap Pages Magazine. It's writer, the operative (also known as Hannibal Tabu), is not a well man. He has no concern for his personal safety, no weakness to bribery or coercion, and no sense of propriety. To quote, "Consider yourselves ... warned."

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