Five or six years ago, as hip-hop was evolving under a less hyped and commercial aura, you’d walk around downtown’s Washington Square Park or the corners of the Lower East Side and see some future MCs sliding down the vigorous streets of New York, chugging forty ounces of Olde English, sparking a blunt of smoke, sitting on a brownstone’s stoop and passionately engaging in a rhyming freestyle session. Growing up in New York City and hanging out with local artists and graffiti crews, I was witness to the evolution of a style of music that emerged from underground street poetry with a gangster ethic to poppy, catchy party anthems, delineated by redundant themes and subjects. Times have changed, though, especially in the context of rap music and concerts.

Luckily, there still is a notable underground scene in New York that lives up to its name quite firmly, but it has become a minor sector of current rap trends that are turning up every time you turn on MTV. One seldom finds MC’s grouped up in a circle on a corner, huddling in the cold of the winter to express their feelings and views through rap lyricism. This is partly due to the recent “renovations” undertaken by Giuliani to “clean” up the city, which have led to the sweeping away of struggling street artists, beggars and wanderers who really contributed to the charm of downtown’s bohemian lifestyle.

Hip-hop has created a specific culture that values independence, rhyming, poetry and artistic integrity. Lately though, rap has been driven to an influential and universally preponderant style of music that glamorizes the life of stardom, the use of drugs and expensive alcohol, the demeaning role of women and the unbounded power of money. Hip-hop artists have, in a way, accomplished the American dream of success, defying the inconsistencies of the system. While rap has always touched upon the subjects of sex, drugs, alcohol and the struggles for money, the problem here is that it has become glamorous and now creates trends in the style of music itself as well as in the lifestyle of listeners.

Rap artist Ludacris, for example, finished off the homecoming celebrations with a show at the UC patio. I didn’t expect too much from the performance, knowing that Ludacris is not a very talented MC, but he does have the vitality to stir up a crowd with his catchy and well-known songs. Occasionally, he would try to excite the crowd by generally asking about “all the pretty ladies out there,” shouting out to “all the fellas smoking weed” and to all the college “alcoholics,” and inviting everyone to “throw their middle finger in the air and say, ‘f*** the cops.'” The concert defied the purpose of true hip-hop. It satisfied only the hunger of mainstream rap listeners who may very well believe that Ludacris encompassed the realm of a hip-hop concert with his cliched shout-outs and explicit, party-going tunes.

Rap had greatly affected the aesthetic culture of the mass public. These days, kids of all classes and races sport rap apparel, try to talk with a ghetto, hip-hop lingo, bump too loudly the daily hits of the radio in their cars, smoke and drink to oblivion, and dream of “living like a baller.” A decade ago, this wasn’t happening, but now hip-hop has become trendy. In my early teens in New York, I would see the Lyricist Lounge show, where local talents would gather on stage and exhibit their rhyming skills in intellectual and often poetic battles that portrayed the artistic aptitude of the artist. Yes, there were also shout-outs to the smokers in the crowd and to the beautiful ladies, but the performers and the show itself did not stress the current “bling-bling” and bigheaded, sensationalist atmosphere of mainstream rappers.

Hip-hop has always had its gritty, street-life edge, but it originated with songs emphasizing lyricism and independence as opposed to flashing money and nice cars. Classic artists and groups such as A Tribe Called Quest, De La Soul, Common and the Roots have put together a number of impressive albums, a lot of which have intuitive rhymes and enlightening reflections on society. It’s harder now to find new albums that can live up to their predecessors.

Omar Sommereyns is a sophomore majoring in print journalism.

The feelings of car inadequacy have passed. I have come to accept the fact that I drive a Subaru in the land of BMWs, a station wagon in the world of SUVs. I can live with this. In the past semester, however, I have seen some things that have put it over the top.

As I drove to class recently, holding up traffic by actually obeying the 30 mph speed limit was a small bus. At first I was sympathetic. A bus full of kids, short-bus kids no less, a responsible driver driving slowly, blah, blah, blah. Then I began to think: it is 6:00 p.m. What are they doing out at this hour?

I looked at the bus more closely. Although it was painted the traditional yellow, I saw strange lettering on the sides, and a big orange comic strip bubble filled the glass of the emergency window. Definite safety hazard.

I looked closer and read: “Have you taken your dog to our doggie playland daycare yet? www.totallydog.com.”

I was following a yellow school bus full of canines being dropped off at home by the bus driver after a day of games, play groups and personal massage therapists.

I don’t have a personal massage therapist.

Later, while shopping for Armani pants at the thrift store, located, oddly enough, in the same building as the police station where they host the “Weed and Seed” Program in a Miami ghetto, I ran into a gaggle of gay boys preparing for a fiesta in Alabama. I’m minding my own business, thinking how good I feel that my purchase of a $5.95 DKNY sweater will benefit the Jewish Home for the Aged, when one of the guys sauntered up my aisle in an Abercrombie and Fitch t-shirt, cargo shorts and white pumps.

The Cuban lady working there told him, “Jou hab great legs.”

“I played football,” he said.

Under his arm, cradled like a pigskin, were the clothes he had stolen from his compadre, who was at that moment penguining around the store, all 6’3″ of him, in a “frumpy” (his word) black dress, barefoot.

This friend was having a hard time finding shoes to complete his ensemble.

You know what they say about guys with big feet: just can’t find a good pair of used stilettos anywhere.

And there’s more. One Saturday, I stepped out of the bathroom stall at Tu Tu Tango, and two bleached blonde flamenco dancers in yellow and gold-sequined costumes were putting on lipstick. Two mirrors. Two flamenco dancers. No, wait, that makes four flamenco dancers. Who’s counting anyway?

Next day, I’m minding my own business again (there seems to be a lot of that going on, huh?), checking out the yellow Lambourghini parked on Ocean Drive right in front of Johnny Rockets, when I spot another flamenco dancer. A male flamenco dancer in a midriff-baring costume, clapping his castenetas and twirling down the sidewalk at two in the afternoon.

Are stress and homesickness inducing hallucinations or is it mass hysteria in Miami? You be the judge.

Angie Henderson is a graduate student in the School of International Studies.

If someone had told me that the University’s purpose was not to teach me skills which would help me get a job, but – as the dean of the School of Communications put it – to “develop for yourself the richest possible life …” (whatever that means), I would have considered receiving my degree somewhere else.

I am a motion pictures/art student graduating this semester. I’m mostly interested in film editing and illustration. While studying here I found the motion picture production program and the illustration/graphic design program somewhat lacking. For example, in graphic design, there are no courses on typography, an extremely important facet of design. In editing, only two computers are available to our whole class and the graduate class. The fact that only two computers are available to us came as quite a shock, since, according to the school website, it has four editing computers. I’m not the only one with complaints about the program. In fact, I first heard of these problems when students and even some faculty complained about them in class.

Because of these problems, I decided to write a letter to UM administrators. Close to a month passed by without me receiving a response. The only response I received was from the dean of the School of Communication, who gave me a numbered list of why nothing was wrong with the film program. After I’ve paid $20,000 a year towards my education, the lack of understanding I received from the administration astounds me. I feel like I’ve been ripped off. Don’t expect to see me at the graduation ceremony. I don’t consider my degree meaning much, and I honestly don’t want to want to meet the administrators who have ignored me.

Estrella Vega

The Question of Common Sense.

When I first came to UM, I hard a hard time getting adjusted to the life and ways of the United States. Life here is extremely different from that of the island on which I grew up; I had a serious case of culture shock, and there are some things that I was rather rudely introduced to and that I refuse to ever get used to. Drugs are one of them.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I am not naive. I know drugs exist. My family has dealt intimately with substance abuse. I know that it is very difficult to control drug use. Barbados is a big center for smuggling. Too small to grow anything on, it’s used as a transfer point between Trinidad and Jamaica. People have tried some pretty interesting methods for smuggling drugs, mainly marijuana and cocaine, into and out of the country.

Drugs are all over on campus. I personally know many people here who smoke marijuana on a regular, if not daily, basis. It is a fact that there are dealers on campus who sell weed. I know of one who sells ecstasy. There are hideaways on campus where kids go to smoke. Many of them leave campus and go to friends’ apartments to smoke. I have witnessed someone roll a blunt. Not wanting to get involved in a fight with that person, I left the room. I know people who keep a little stash in their rooms. These people, after a night of poisoning their own bodies, boast about how high they were and they report proudly what idiots they made of themselves because they were so wasted. Of course, they just call it “having a good time”.

I knew that I would be confronted with drugs. The way that I was raised was to say “no thank you” and continue about my business. I was taught from a young age how dangerous drugs are to one’s health. We all know this. Not only are they dangerous, they are illegal.

So I do not understand how people whom I know are intelligent can brag about how hammered they got drinking and smoking weed. These people whom I know are intelligent throw it all away by making incredibly stupid decisions.

Some happily excuse themselves saying tobacco is worse for you than weed. Let’s weigh the facts. The nicotine in cigarettes makes blood platelets sticky, increasing the risk of blood clots. Tar collects in the lungs, creating extra mucus and reducing the tissue’s elasticity. Carbon monoxide reduces blood’s ability to carry oxygen. Smoking marijuana also has devastating effects on the body: It affects nerve cells in the brain, interfering with feeling and perception. These nerve cells are eventually destroyed, permanently altering the brain’s learning and memory functions. And scientists have found smoking marijuana also puts users at risk of developing lung cancer. The study findings refute the argument that marijuana is safer than tobacco.

Cocaine is just as dangerous. It causes heart attacks, seizures, strokes, and respiratory failure. Mixing drugs and alcohol is even more dangerous. It speeds up both the highs and the side effects. Reality bites, doesn’t it?

Unfortunately, most users have the attitude that “it can’t happen to me.” I cannot respect anyone who does drugs and boasts about it.

How can anyone be proud of the fact that they are abusing their bodies and their minds? What is the point of smoking oneself into oblivion?

It’s the same with alcohol. Where is the fun in getting so drunk that you are violently sick for 24 hours afterward?

Anyone can have fun without alcohol and certainly without drugs.

Amanda Hoyos is a freshman majoring in marine science.