Notes from Remix and Mash-Up Session

Remixing  Malcolm X’s The Ballot or the Bullet

The bullet.  The bullet.  The bullet.

All of us have suffered here, in this country, political oppression at the hands of the white man, economic exploitation at the hands of the white man, and social degradation at the hands of the white man.

I believe in action on all fronts by

whatever means necessary.

I  just can’t believe everyone in here is a friend, and I

don’t want to leave anybody out. The question tonight, as I

understand it, is “The Negro Revolt, and Where Do We Go From Here?” or

What Next?” In my little humble way of understanding it, it points toward either the ballot or the bullet.

Before we try and explain what is meant by the ballot or the bullet, I

would like to clarify something concerning myself. I’m

still a Muslim; my religion is still Islam. That’s my

personal belief. Just as Adam Clayton Powell

is a Christian minister who heads the Abyssinian Baptist

Church in New York, but at the same time takes part

in the political struggles to try and bring about rights

to the black people in this country; and Dr. Martin Luther King

is a Christian minister down in Atlanta, Georgia,

who heads another organization fighting for

the civil rights of

black people

in this country;

and Reverend Galamison, I guess you’ve

heard of him, is another Christian minister

in New York who has been deeply involved

in the school boycotts to eliminate segregated education;




am a minister,

not a Christian minister,

but a Muslim minister; and

Although I’m still a Muslim, I’m not here tonight to discuss my religion. I’m not here to try and change your religion. I’m not here to argue or discuss anything that we differ about, because it’s time for us to submerge our differences and realize that it is best for us to first see that we have the same problem, a common problem, a problem that will make you catch hell whether you’re a Baptist, or a Methodist, or a Muslim, or a nationalist. Whether you’re educated or illiterate, whether you live on the boulevard or in the alley, you’re going to catch hell just like I am. We’re all in the same boat and we all are going to catch the same hell from the same man. He just happens to be a white man.

I believe in action on all fronts by

whatever means necessary.

Mashing Up Reagan Speech with a Talk on Barbecue:

This campaign has been telling us that the issue is barbecue. And when I’m feeling bad, I just want barbecue more. I believe in barbecue in all its Chinese take-out spareribs that stain your fingers red, to food and health food, as a cuisine of both prosperity. The line has been used, “We’ve never had of the Deep South. I believe that like sunshine life as a Democrat, I recently have seen fit solace and celebration. When I’m feeling good, I want the most authentic product of the tar-paper rib shacks confronting us across party lines. Now, one side I believe in barbecue. As soul food and comfort and great sex, no day is bad that has of this election as the maintenance of peace and to follow another course. I believe that the issues of regional derivations, in its ethnic translations, in forms that range from white-tablecloth presentations of cunningly sauced costillas, to barbecue in it.

Mashing up Beyonce’s “Sandcastles” and Emily Dickinson “480”

That way, oh, babe Every promise don’t don’t work out that way “Why do I won’t walk away And I know And your heart is broken cause I work out that way Dishes smashed on erase, baby? On erase, baby? When every promise don’t work The Wisdom it be so— The Lightning—never when He pass She cannot keep Her my counter from our last encounter Pictures I promised that I couldn’t stay, baby is it about you that I can’t asked an Eye Wherefore it shut—when He place. Shut—when He place. Because He knows—and Do not You— And We know not— Enough for Us out that way, no no, babe When no no no no no Every promise every promise don’t work out that way speak— And reasons not contained— —Of Talk— does not require the Grass To answer—Wherefore We built sandcastles that washed away I snatched out the frame Bitch, I scratched There be—preferred by Daintier Folk— The Sunrise—Sire—compelleth was by— Because He knows it cannot Every promise don’t work out that way, I love” You, Sir? Love” You, Sir? Because— The Wind And although I promised that I couldn’t Me— Because He’s Sunrise—and I see— Therefore—Then— walked away Show me your scars and made you cry when I walked away out your name and your face What stay, baby Every promise don’t work out. Don’t work out.