Heaven Was My Life featuring REP (new organ by John Maxfield)

[hook]
If I go to hell, I bet I keep my wings, because
Heaven was my whole damn life...
Heaven was my whole damn life...
Heaven was my whole damn life...
[x2]

Toth:

Our father, hallowed be thy name, for it's
you from whom I came, thy kingdom
come, (right now) thy will be done, on
Earth as it, is in Heaven.

Give us this day our daily bread, for
with it, I make my bed, I don't tress-
pass, so I won't get tresspas-sed, the only
temptation going is to end up dead, to the

Truth, that evil really has no head, you can't
dance with the devil, when he has no legs, just a
bunch of bad decisions that has no end, unless you
separate yourself from them. So let's be

friends, for thine is the kingdom and the power to
lend, more Ender, more glory to remember, there
is no beginning and there'll never be an end, for-
ever...forever...forever... amen.

[hook]

REP:

Heaven was my whole
life, life, life where did I fail?
On a mission to prevail,
Represent, I get it, how I live,
God forgive me for all my sins,

Amen, and at the end of every prayer,
at the end of everything we laid down, before he come saves us,
Represent, been here representing for the underground,
They don't own me so I often speak with a new and final offer of sound,

Lay 'em down, stick 'em up, screw 'em like a nail,
and this life we live, sometimes I feel like we in hell.
Stop where ye dwell...
sometimes I'm figuring this shit out my nigga, sometimes where did I fail?

But I don't know, I don't know
I can't choose it, you must show me,
I can't figure it out neither,
give me a path, so I can proceed thus.

[hook]

Gratitude for All

I'm grateful for God aka Allah aka Yahweh aka Positive Energy aka Divine Law aka All in All aka Only Love aka Harmony aka whatever you believe it is that makes this universe the heaven that it is...and behold, it was very good.


I believe religions are like languages. How silly would it be to criticize someone for speaking a different language? In the end, we are saying pretty much the same thing. A higher power or law (for my atheist friends) creates all around us...and it's amazing.


Could you imagine if President Obama asked everyone to pray together today? "Christians to Christ, Muslims to Allah, Jews to Yahweh..." Just that alone would bring the whole world to a higher energy.

J-Toth from Hoth Talks Rap and Frozen Food Section with Tef Poe

River Front Times:

Tef Poe: Explain to us the origin of the name J-Toth from the Planet of Hoth. Also, briefly talk to us about your indie label the Frozen Food Section and the origin of its name.

J-Toth: I, Jonathan Getzschman, started my rap/poet career as 'J to the Getzschman, the name appearing on my checks and, sticking to your memory like wet sand...' Turned out I was wrong, so I pushed 'to the' into 'tothe' as in 'J-Tothe', but that didn't sound right, so I took off the 'e. J-Toth was at that time [1998], living in Summit County Colorado, working and snowboarding in the mountains. Being a Star Wars child, Colorado felt very much like the planet Hoth from the movie Empire Strikes Back, and it rhymed...so J-Toth from Hoth sounded like a rap nerd's dream name. Turned out I was right.

When I began conceiving my record label in 1999, Nelly had just gone platinum, and I was one of the few dissenters who couldn't stand Country Grammar (just my ears, I respect Nelly for his craft). By the time he released his second album, "Hot in Herre" filled the radio waves, and as a competing artist, instead of being hot, I decided I'd rather be cold as hell. So the Frozen Food Section was born with the release of my first album Brainwashing: The Art of Hiphopera and vinyl 12" Chaos and Cannibalism in June of 2002. Aside from being a record label, Frozen Foods is also an artist collective for some of the hip hop, rock, folk and soul of St. Louis. Personally, I rap, sing and make beats, but I also record, mix and master everything that comes out of "The Cooler," our studio.

Exactly what type of music do you create?

I make a mix of hip hop, soul, rock and poetry twisted into a rap format, depending upon which project I'm working on at the time. My first album was 'sci-fi/nerd rap', my second was 'emo rap', my third was 'children's rap', my fourth was 'revolutionary rap', etc. I try to embrace different styles and play with them my way as often as possible.

Most of your projects are concept albums -- have you ever came up with a concept that you felt was pushing the bar too far? Tell us about a time that a particular concept you developed for a song or album was shelved by you for possibly being too extreme or over the top creatively.

The big issue for me, being a white boy is usually race. When I first began, I noticed new listeners could really feel me, or were immediately turned off. Because I don't mask my accent, it often clashes with the expectations of most hip hop fans who are used to hearing rappers 'sound black'. Vanilla Ice fooled many people into going platinum, but once his mask fell off, he fell off. I didn't (and still don't) feel that 'keeping it real' really means, 'front your ASS off.' I'd rather just be me (except when I want to play with alter egos). As far as shelving projects, sure, I have experimented with how to debunk racism and homophobia, by proving how ridiculous they are in music, but it's difficult to do it tastefully without offending somebody. I never officially released 'Do the Whiteboy', but it pokes at some of things people don't like to talk about:

"why ever bother doing stuff that sucks,
'Do What You Like,' (right?) like Humpty Hump, and
that's just what we white boys do, so
don't try to stop me, or I'll find a way to sue, no
dumb shit (true), we learned to stay above it, what we
really love to do is run shit like you, so...(Do the Whiteboy)"

Do the Whiteboy

Which of your albums is your personal favorite and which is the most critically acclaimed?

My favorite album of mine is probably SICK BOYS with DJ Crucial. We've been skateboarding each for 26 years, so we made a collabo for the ages. My most critically acclaimed would be The Lovecycle because I got MF DOOM and Serengeti on it...but I love that one too.

Any last words?

Last words? Yeah, I'm still sitting on an album Tef and I did in 2006...holla.

Do the Whiteboy (GOP theme song)

They all want to know exactly what it’s really like, being white.

[Toth]
Alright, they wanna know. Hey Tucker, Splitface gave this beat that sounds like Frankenstein on acid, so let’s do this like Clueless.

[Tucker]
Do what?

(hook)
Do the whiteboy…Do the whiteboy…
Do the whiteboy…Do the whiteboy…

(Toth) We got the
good, the bad, and we also got the ugly, that’s
Jesus, Hitler and the leaders of our country,
What? Christ wasn’t white? You think I’m wishing? In
that case, in place of the ugly put Mel Gibson.
Anti-semite? Man, don’t play a dummy, be
psyched we got other people managing our money, an-
other race cooks, another cleans clothes, an-
other runs 7-11’s another mows, and
everybody takes their place where they belong, and
loves their job…unless…I could be wrong, but
why ever bother doing stuff that sucks,
“Do What You Like,” (right?) like Humpty Hump, and
that’s just what we white boys do, so
don’t try to stop me, or I’ll find a way to sue, no
dumb shit (true), we learned to stay above it, what we
really love to do is run shit like you, so…

(hook)

(Tucker)
BLAH! Beware the white devil! Ad-
dicted to bass, cause I was raised by the treble, be-
fore hip hop was pop, it was heavy metal, but Met-
allica was too greedy when Napster got settled.
Keep your eyes peeled! I’ll steal your ideas, and
print them in books, so that my people can read ‘em, and
take advantage of missed opportunities that haunt you, since
we don’t HAVE to go to work, we WANT to.
You need me, or else the industry would stop, the
internet would fail, and you wouldn’t get good pot,
80% of your rap sales would drop, but inter-
estingly enough, boot-legging would not. If you
wanna join a team, where the win is guaranteed, leave your
melanin at home or at least bring some bleach, the
greatest trick the devil ever pulled was white hype, don’t for-
get, white rhymes with right, right?

(hook)

(Abe tha Babe) (Do the
whiteboy?) Right boy, get it through your skull, before I
fuck around like John Mayer and get into your soul. We
built this city on Rock-n-Roll, and Chuck
Berry lives here, though he’s awful old. We’re
way past the days of “come here boy,” and re-
placed the Stevie Wonder with Jamirquoi,
Public Enemy’s black-balled for preaching terror, and who
needs Alicia Keys, there’s Christina Aguillera,
Bob Marley WAS in it for the long haul, but we
found UB40 and Snow, then Sean Paul, the
caucasoid’s got it, that’s no reason for hating it, cause
while you’re sitting pissed, my fam’s out making it,
we got exceptions, like those young Eminem’s, but ev-
entually, he made the grade in the end. We
use your music in new ways that’s too clever, cause
anything you can do, I can do better…

Oh whiteboy you’re so fine, you’re so fine you blow my mind!
Hey whiteboy! Hey whiteboy!
Oh whiteboy you’re so fine, you’re so fine you blow my mind!
Hey whiteboy! Hey whiteboy!
Oh whiteboy you’re so fine, you’re so fine you blow my mind!
Hey whiteboy! Hey whiteboy!
Oh whiteboy you’re so fine, you’re so fine you blow my mind!
Hey whiteboy! Hey whiteboy!

Daniel 12:10 Many shall be purified, and made WHITE, and tried; but the wicked shall do wickedly: and none of the wicked shall understand; but the wise shall understand.

…and God hath spoken.

Chapter Thirty-One

The phone rang twice before Assange put up his laptop and answered. “Hello?”

“Mr. Assange?”

“Yes.”

“My name is Paula Broadwell.” She let the words sink in.

“Well…to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“To the fact you’re the one guy who can’t get in anymore trouble than you already are.” She waited.

“This line is probably tapped.”

“It doesn’t matter. Anyone listening would know what I know anyways,” said Broadwell. “You got a pen and a few minutes?”

That’s what she said, Assange thought. “Let me check my schedule…yes, I have the time.”

“You need to be aware of some big things going down, and if any of this is considered whistle blower material, please print it as soon as possible.”

“You’re in the media,” Assange replied, “why not take the credit yourself?”

“I’m still military, regardless of what stage,” said Broadwell, “and I’m not trying to become the next Bradley Manning.”

“This won’t be traceable to you?” asked Assange.

“I’ve got links that some careless higher-ups have left open to the public,” Broadwell continued, “but let me sum it up: Karl Rove has been a very bad boy.”

Assange smiled. “Do tell.”

“First, the Benghazi charade all stems back to him. General Petraeus was used by Rove to get the goods on resources in the middle east. Second, the internal struggles going on within the Ecuador government and military are a result of Rove using his influence to force those sympathetic to you out. Third, Rove attempted to use his ORCA network during the election to affect vote tallies on a national scale, but he was thwarted by associates of Anonymous.”

Assange’s smile widened. “Really? I thought my peeps would’ve bragged to me about that one by now.”

“It went unverified until an hour ago,” Broadwell replied, “apparently, they got scared when Rove found out. They put up a firewall around his network on election day. He tried over a hundred times to hack the national voting database, and he would’ve too, but thanks to a handful of do-gooders, the tallies went untainted…at least from Rove’s end. Did you get to see him on election night? He was freaking out. He kept commenting that the election ‘wasn’t over yet.’ FOX News was certainly waiting for him to pull a rabbit out of the hat.”

“A $300 million dollar one at that.” Assange paused, “thanks for the links. Should I assume your relationship with Petraeus is all subterfuge?”

“That’s for me to know, and you to find out…but keep in mind, I’ll be watched closely from now on, so I doubt I will be able to communicate with you again. Good luck sir, you are an inspiration to the rest of us.” She hung up.

Assange sighed. Tis better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.

Power vs. Power

Instead of calling it Democrats vs. Republicans, I'm willing to call it what it is: power vs. power. The one who gets my vote will come down to which power is more respectful and respectable. I appreciate leaders who want to work together and make us harmonious, and I want nothing to do with partisan politics.

Lincoln repped the GOP hard, and I'm grateful for him.

FDR repped the Dems hard, and I'm grateful for him.

Unfortunately, since Eisenhower, the Republicans have been hijacked by predatory capitalists who give capitalism a bad name. Until they change their methods of "team work," I would rather create WIN-WIN solutions with nice people who respect each other.

Whatever party does that will get my vote.

Chapter Thirty

Air Force One landed in Springfield, New Hampshire. The house of Petraeus was quiet. The President’s secret service knocked. His wife opened the door.

“Yes? Oh my, I guess you want to speak with David.”

The President moved past his men to hug her. “How are you Holly?”

Her eyes glazed over a bit. She managed a “fine, but I liked it better when David worked in the military. The games the CIA plays is unnerving.”

“For you and your family, the worst is over.” The president looked into her eyes, “I can’t tell you anything more, but please trust your husband. He’s a good man.”

She cried. “Thanks Mr. President.”

“May I speak with him privately?” asked the President.

“Of course. Please come in.”

General Petraeus was waiting in his robe. “Mr. President, good to see you.” They shook hands. “Honey, do you mind if I show off your gardens?”

“I’m sure they’re nothing compared to Michelle’s,” she replied, “but please enjoy.”

The President strolled thru hydrangeas and roses with Petraeus. The secret service posted up in the tulips and the violets. The air was a sweet mix of autumn leaves and burning wood. When they were far enough away from the house, they moved on from small talk.

“What’s good?” asked the President.

“Unfortunately, not the CIA.” Petraeus sighed. “I’m grateful the FBI was willing to play this out. Holly’s embarrassed, but she’ll be ok. My biographer, Paula Broadwell is willing to go along with this until it’s done, but I’m sure her husband is uncomfortable.”

“I’ll give her a job when this all calms down,” said the President.

Petraeus nodded, “I’ll get to the gist. Rove ok’d Benghazi. It was supposed to be their ‘October Surprise’ for you while tying up several loose ends:

1. Ambassador Stevens knew too much about the gold being looted from Libya, and being gay didn’t help his cause any. He was getting good information from the natives about who was involved, and it turned out to be mostly Bush/Cheney people. Once he showed his true colors, he became ‘fair game’.
2. That Mohammed parody was funded by GOP election money thru Rove. They got Sam Bacile to take the fall, but he’s also pleading the fifth. The demonstrations all over the middle east were instigated by agents sympathetic to the right wing, but it almost backfired. Most protesters showed up to denounce the assassination of Stevens and didn’t care about the film. Agents were able to video enough U.S. flag burning to make up for lack of actual participation.
3. Romney had prior knowledge of the attacks in Benghazi and was advised by Rove to squeeze you during the debates. He almost jumped the gun when he tweeted about it seconds after it happened. Only a few people noticed how impossibly informed he was, but they’ve been silenced.
4. Republicans tried to spin this as your fault immediately, but between the Libyans knowing the truth and Americans used to these games being played, the only part of the population who agreed were a handful of their own constituents. Congratulations sir, you beat them.”

“Governor Christie helped, and he’s likely to take some heat from the GOP too.” The President furrowed his brow, “I don’t like what they did to Stevens. That’s inexcusable. What’s the legal outlook on Rove? Can he be held accountable?”

Petraeus shrugged, “The people involved are too compartmentalized, but his influence is shrinking after spending $300 million to defeat you and not having squat to show for it. It might be better to continue surveillance. If he keeps abusing his diplomatic immunity in the name of partisan politics, he may slip up.”

The President thought for a moment. “This all leads to daddy Bush doesn’t it?”

Petraeus paused, “I believe ‘Poppy’ is still ‘in the shit’ if that’s what you mean. He contributed more secret money to Romney than anyone else, but he’s got other problems.”

“Oh?” asked the President.

Petraeus lowered his voice, “More evidence keeps surfacing about his past…and the CIA keeps having to hide it. It’s like J.E. Hoover got a kick out of leaving Easter eggs for future generations to marvel at.”

“Does it concern ‘the big event’?”

Petraeus didn’t blink. “During my time at the CIA, although I was kept in the dark, it became quite clear, George H.W. Bush was part of the team that assassinated John F. Kennedy in Dallas, 1963.”

The President closed his eyes. “Thank you David. You’ve served your country well. Keep your family safe. I’ve got some work to do.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The door to the Assange’s room in the Ecuadorian embassy exploded open, no smoke, just broken hinges on the floor. The power dimmed and cut out. Karl Rove stood in the entrance.

“You could’ve just knocked.” Assange got up from his seat. “I’ve never experienced it before, but that felt like some of the new electro magnetic pulse trigger entry technology...the EMPTE, I believe?”

“You’re coming with me now,” said Rove.

“No,” replied Assange, “actually, I am currently receiving political asylum from Ecuador, and no matter how much you attempt to intimidate me, I will not freely give up my rights.”

“You are currently conspiring with enemies of the United States and sharing information with international terrorists.” Rove continued to stand in the entry. “Let’s go.”

Assange stared at him from across the room. “If you mean I am cooperating with the rest of the world that does not agree with your people, you are correct, but that in itself is not illegal. Likewise, I do share information with protest groups and whistleblower agencies of government, but they are by no means ‘terrorists’ even if you are trying to get legislation passed that says otherwise.”

“We have your fingerprints all over some new 9-11 leaks streaming on youtube (http://youtu.be/n_fp5kaVYhk). That’s a lot of classified information not allowed for public view, sponsored by you. Come out and disprove me.”

“I don’t do 9-11,” Assange said.

“You don’t do 9-11 because you don’t want be sloughed off as another crazy train patron,” Rove responded. “Don’t lie to me, I know.”

Assange bit his lip for a second. “If 9-11 is exactly how your people purport it to be, why are you so paranoid?”

Rove glowered. “You know exactly what happened on 9-11, and I know you know, because I know everything! National security is the only reason I need to take you out, so unless you want me to put unnecessary pressure on you thru others you may or may not care about, I suggest martyrdom as soon as possible. Follow me.”

Assange sat back down. “I also don’t do blackmail Mr. Rove. If you’ll excuse me, I have some very important work to do.” Assange paused, “By the way, I noticed you do a lot of clandestine work yourself Karl. The amount of time you’ve spent on 9-11 witnesses alone is staggering. There is a curious amount of coincidental deaths within those witnesses. Last I looked, more 9-11 witnesses have died before they could submit testimony than have survived and made it to court. Your whereabouts during those years are dubious even on the DoJ database. Cheeky Karl, you are a shadow.”

“I don’t do blackmail either ass face,” Karl waited. “What else do you know?”

Assange smiled. “I know you have ordered the deaths of thousands of ‘insurgents’ whether they were Afghanis, Iraqis or even Americans on U.S. soil in the name of ‘national security’ although it's debatable whether any of those Americans were actually insurgents or just those unlucky enough to possess too much info about 9-11. I know thru your ties to the Bush family you were able to loot the World Trade Center gold supply, Iraqi gold in Baghdad, and Gaddafi’s Libyan gold reserves, and I know you get illegal oil money from those regions. If all goes well in Iran, I know you will get a nice chunk from their oil too.” Assange paused. “Unless you're going to be master of your technology, it doesn’t matter how many advantages you have on the rest of us. We will always find out what you are up to…always.”

Rove fumed, “we’ll see if you can keep up with us from your room here. You’re still grounded. That reminds me, say some prayers for your mum.” He stormed out.

Assange heard voices in Spanish yelling from the halls. Several embassy soldiers finally arrived at his door.

“Es ok senior Assange?” asked one of them.

Assange reached behind his desk and pressed stop on his old school analog recorder. The tape was unaffected by the EMP earlier. He rewound the tape and listened. Rove came thru loud and clear.

“Si, es ok mi amigo. Gracias.”