Dear Next Generation Internet Model


Let’s be real here. The internet has ruined a few things. It was designed to be a tool to help information spread around the world, but in the process of creating such a virtual Highway, a bevy, a literal plethora of other important aspects of humanity have been trampled.

Two things the internet surely altered beyond immediate repair are the music industry and the modeling industry. Back in the day there were very few lanes for music and provocative photography to travel mainstream-ly. Subsequently what that did was force amateurs to be as professional and accurate as possible because they’d contending with legitimate competition. (No matter what field you’re referring to, this applies.) What the internet did, though, was level the playing field almost to the point that it is now concave. It doesn’t matter how good or bad you look or sound…all that matters is how hard you hustle.

In steps the internet model.

3fe3341f-d63d-4a63-aa2a-dbc2e6902b07.13045789_503730536480558_364362310_n.mp4 The internet model is a savvy, digital hustler who has probably been watching various sorts of get money schemes her entire life, kinda like a real-life elective class. The moment she realized men will pay to look at her jiggle her wigglies, it was on and cracking, as the young people say.

The first generation internet models were basically strippers and pornstars and magazine models, so they were already ahead of the game as far as financing their sexual services. They monetized man’s fantasies before the dot com era and are the trailblazers of the avenues created for today’s thots and rats to shake their way into our collective hearts. And sometimes, pants.

But here’s the thing…

The internet model game has exploded over the past couple of years. For the most part, any girl — and I do pretty much mean any — with viable breasts and a sizable butt feels a need to force her figure upon our non-judgemental screens.

(Not that I’m complaining. God bless lascivity. Hell, if I were born a woman, I’m pretty sure that not only would I be a whore, but I’d probably have dozens of children by dozens of different men. My proclivity for promiscuity would know no bounds. And thusly so, I would also probably be rich. Which brings me back to the next generation of Internet models.)

I definitely understand the hustle. The hustle, however, has become saturated and it seems that the players are becoming somewhat lazy. This is coming from a veteran creep an aficionado. I spend countless minutes, no, probably hours looking at women online throughout the week. This is not counting weekends, where sometimes I go extra hard to make up for moments lost amidst the work week. All of this gives me the authority to say the following…

Dear next generation Internet models, I need you to buy better cameras. I can’t enjoy your work if I’m squinting because if it’s too fuzzy, it’s like masturbating to a memory. That defeats the purpose. I know you get PayPal money, because I see your registration to all the gift websites in your bio. Take a small portion from your weave fund and upgrade that phone. Your dedicated fans, and even the non-paying ones demand it. I should be able to see stretch marks without giving myself a headache.

I also noticed this next generation of Internet model isn’t concerned with their facial appearance. And I say this with all due respect. I mean, they know we’re tuning in to check out assets so the fact that their face may be a liability doesn’t seem to come into the equation. Ladies, I’m here to tell you that it does come into the equation. Granted, I’m here to see your ass talent, but have the common decency to throw on some lipstick. At least some lip gloss. Put your hair in a ponytail for Hugh Hefner’s sake. Don’t just show up to the party and jump in front of the camera like your fresh off of a power nap. Because even though I don’t know you, in my mind, you are my girlfriend for the next however many minutes. The least you could do is look presentable while I’m visiting. Keep it classy, ladies. Please.

And, if I may say this without sounding harsh, if you know you aren’t that attractive yet feel the incessant need to pursue a career as an internet model, act accordingly. Seriously. There’s really no reason to smile all up in the camera if you don’t have the type of face that belongs all up in the camera, especially when that’s not the reason the people came. (You see what I did there?) Some of these women have bodies like goddesses but faces like the grill of a Honda Odyssey and either dont think we’ll notice or couldn’t care less.

This attitude seems to be a growing trend.

The fact that I’m not that easy on the eyes will be overlooked by the amount of cake and ice cream I supplied the party with.

Maybe, maybe not, but why even take that chance?

All I’m asking, next generation Internet model, is that you keep it real with yourself and in that process you will be, in essence, keeping it real with me as well. That’s the easiest way to achieve social harmony.

And just as an afterthought, if you know your asscheeks a full of scars, acne marks, knife wounds, and bullet holes, the outfit you’re wearing on camera needs to be A-plus. Top Notch. Because stretch marks are sexy. Tiger stripes of milfy experience. They are indicative of maturity, growth. Bullet scars and knife-caused keloids, however, are indicative of danger and the possibility of harm or injury. Keep these things in mind, for future reference. The same theory applies to your background scenery. Your ice cream and cake is only as yummy as the bathroom mirror is clean.

Next generation Internet model, this comes not from a place of criticism or complaint, but from a location of love. Computer love, word to Roger Troutman.

Words by Tony Grands


LL Cool J, The Copycat Hustle, and Why They Sell FUBU at Walmart



In the late 90’s, I worked in an urban haberdashery…

That means I sold clothes to black folks.  The store I worked in was an odd mix of inexpensive ($125 each or 2-for-$200) suits of cheapish materials against moderately expensive ($650+) ones with accessories matching each price point.  We also had urban wear at the end of the Karl Kani era and beginning of FUBU and the likes.

Bookmark that FUBU thing, it is coming back up shortly and will be on the exam.

One of the things I noticed working in that store that I would later find applicable in music and life in general is that urban folks LOVE a copycat hustle…

Watch me…

LL Cool J helped Daymond John and the FUBU cats out with some cash (<– allegedly) and a HUGE boost by wering one of THEIR hats in a Gap commercial (!!!) back when Gap commercials were a thing.  Now an urbanwear company is a thing on a larger scale than ever before.  Normal companies existed, but next thing you know, Nas is behind one (Remember Willie Esco?), Fat Joe is behind one (FJ560, anyone?) we all know about Sean John, which is the only one that has exhibited any staying power.

Shit, later in the game, when higher-end gear started to come out with Iceberg History emblazoned with cartoon characters, FUBU turned copycatted with their “Platinum” line, featuring Fat Albert and them.  We could probably see this as the beginning of the end (or sign of the times, honestly), because you can get FUBU in Wal Mart now.


In the years that would follow, it felt like EVERY rapper, wannabe rapper, hood thot, zesty college junior dude and club promoter would try to shill their own clothing line because they had seen a FEW people do it before them.

Not an original idea, but it was attempted time and time and time again, some continuing on into the 2010s still (poorly) going at it.

I left that store so I could get a job with a more consistent schedule so I could go back to college, just as I ripened into drinking age.

After shamelessly promoting expensive-but-mediocre vodkas like Grey Goose and Belvedere, someone got the bright idea:

Why don’t I latch on with one of these distribution companies and put my name behind one of these things?

(Phlip note: none of these rappers actually OWN their liquor companies, they simply have a deal with the people who do to appear that they do)

I want to say it was Jay-Z and Dame Dash who did that shit first, but once they started talking about it in their songs and people FLOCKED to go buy it, every one with a record deal and a little bit of attention went to get a new revenue stream.


Diddy made them all look foolish when he linked with the same company that distributes Crown Royal (please Google the name Diageo).  Then the arms race was on, and now AGAIN we have people in a mad dash to append their names to semi and ultra-premium liquors.

50 Cent releases his “debut” album Get Rich or Die Trying.  The central theme of the promotion of it was conflict with people who might have disagreed with his previous attempt to break into the industry, but more direct were his shots DIRECTLY at people by name.  AND IT WORKED!!!  At that point, and for several years since — ESPECIALLY by Curtis himself — it was unheard of to release an album without starting some shit with someone, with or without reasoning.  TO THIS DAY people are playing this tactic, even when it blows up in Meek Mill‘s face repeatedly.  Their labels will not be bothered with stopping this clownshow because the publicit is as good as anything that they could have paid good money for and the only real risk is their artist getting beaten, stabbed or shot.

And we all know that dead rappers get better grass-roots promotion just for being dead.

This past Wednesday, we saw the largest powerball jackpot in history.  My FB wall was lined with people discussing what they would do WHEN they won.  To boot, mine included what would transpire IF I did.  People claiming the money “in Jesus’ name,” a couple of resignation letters already written.

“But where is the copycat in that?” you ask…

In four days, the jackpot went from an already record 700something million to ONE AND A HALF BILLION.  Not only were the people who normally play — and yes, I spent the same $6 I normally allow myself every couple of weeks for it — but lines out of the DOOR in stores nationwide for everyone who didn’t establish a reasonable retirement strategy to shine on their “haters” in the face of karmic irony served for even having such thoughts.

At the end of it all, tons of people are guilty of this behavior, in the real world and all over.

Let someone win $50 on a scratch off and post about it on the networks, dozens of friends are buying them.  Let a miserably single person mention they met someone, their miserably single friends want to know where so THEY can go there.  Say you found $20 bucks in a parking lot, people will LITERALLY go to that same fucking parking lot seeing if perhaps the person lost more!  Perhaps it is human nature?

Perhaps we’re all a little fucked up.

Words by PHLIP
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The Real Reason We Won’t Let Slim Jesus Have A Piece of the Rap Game Pie


The real reason we won’t let Slim Jesus get a piece of the rap game pie is because we’ve reached our status quo for White rappers and there aren’t any vacancies currently available. In fact, there is an influx of them pouring in, and unfortunately he got lost in the affirmative action shuffle.

Because surely it’s not the fact that he spits make-believe rhymes when most rappers do it, too. It can’t be because he’s a “fake” or a “fraud,” which Rick Ross already proved rap fans don’t give a fuck about.

Hip Hop is music of fantasy, and granted the kid is playing with fire, he has a right to live out his, like 90% of the other rappers.

The problem is Drill Music is for real. These young cats kill each other then make songs about it. It’s much deeper than fake guns, disclaimers, and living in a bubble behind the ideology of creative freedom. Words are dangerous and energetic and recklessly wielding them can be hazardous to one’s health. The bible even talks about it.

Perhaps Slim may want to ease up on the gangsta profile, but by no means should he be banned from making rap music. That just seems a bit bigoted, and Hip Hop knows how it feels to be on the receiving end of that, don’t we?

Words by Tony Grands
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Questions, comments, complaints?

How Drake Vs. Meek Mill Is The New 50 Cent Vs. Rick Ross


So in this whole Meek Mill and Drake beef, I’m wondering where Rick Ross is. Aside from the fact he has an assload of legal issues he is surprisingly quiet for a man in his position. Here it is, his main foot soldier going toe to toe with arguably the best rapper in the game, and from my research he hasn’t said jack.

Then it dawned on me.

This is the same position Ross was in right at the beginning of his career explosion. 50 Cent, indeed “the man” at the time, allegedly ignored Rick Ross at a party. Rick dropped a sneak diss on a guest verse on someone’s song and 50 caught wind of it, thus inciting one of the most savage attacks in Hip Hop to date. 50 went at Ross on a personally level, with a unique aggression, taking his retaliation to a formally unseen level. No diss tracks, no back-and-forth arguments. 50 simply put time, money, and dedicated energy into destroying Rick Ross’ personal life and public image. Ross never declared beef, he just dropped a snide remark. That’s very similar to what Meek Mill did. So Drake, similar to 50, decided to unload a can of whoop ass relentlessly, and for what it’s worth Meek Mill just was not prepared for it.

A lot of Hip Hop customers and rap game aficionados thought that 50’s attack on Rick Ross, and his mom, and his baby’s mom, and his kids meant that his career in entertainment was over. Especially since Rick Ross never really said anything back. Have you ever seen a guy in a fight who’s losing simply because he chose to curl up in the fetal position rather than lash out in fight or flight fury? That’s the equivalent of what Rick vs 50 Cent looked like from the outside. It got to a point where my friends and I had conversations about how we literally felt bad for Rick Ross.

Then one day, people began to notice the tide in the conflict changing. It wasn’t because Rick Ross decided to start fighting back, per se, but it was more along the lines of his music speaking for him. Rick Ross was dropping song after song after song at a time when all 50 Cent was doing was yelling and screaming and bullyfooting on his website in true Curtis Jackson fashion. In regard to Rick Ross, the hits kept coming and one day Hip Hop looked around and Rick Ross was on top of the game. Meanwhile, 50 Cent was struggling to get people to listen to songs he was dropping online for free. That’s a poetic fall from grace if ever I’ve seen one.


If Rick Ross, rap music’s greatest comeback kid, has been spending time shaping, nurturing, and building a rightful heir to the throne that he’s constructing currently, then there is absolutely no reason to count Meek Mill out just because of a stumble. It’s fun to say his career is over but realistically he was riding high before this little snafu occurred. I sincerely doubt his momentum will be slowed so much that he won’t still garner the same amount of attention that he would have had any of this not happened.

And honestly, Meek Mill’s success doesn’t necessarily spell failure for Drake. Before this conflict, they were both leisurely cruising along in their own respective lanes. Every now and then, their fans coexisted at an intersect where both artists worked together to have us bobbing our heads and snapping our fingers to some bullshit, but aside from that, one guy was over there and the other guy was over there and it was all good.

Hopefully the grasshopper’s been watching and learning from the teacher over the years. Because if so, the narrative dictates that we can expect Meek Mill to deliver some fire ass music probably no later than the beginning of the fall. Why the beginning of the fall? Because only a fool would challenge Drake for the next 2 or 3 months. Meek has done a foolish thing by starting a feud with his wifey’s coworker (what man hasn’t) but clearly the man is no fool, and that’s coming from someone who doesn’t listen to a lot of Meek Mill’s music.

Meek Mill obviously lost this battle, but like many a wise man has said before me, if you never lose you’ll never learn how to win.

— Tony Grands