You call yourself a magician, bruh?
By Adam Axford
What up fam, Ghetto Shaman on the keypad. If you're reading this there's a high probability you a human, which means you made my "Top 20 Species" list back in 1995. Congrats on that. Although shrouding myself in a cloud of mystery is vital for the safety of the nation, I figured I'd break protocol for a beat or two and give you the 411. (Plus, the words "safety" and "nation" are both boring AF and I ain't really into boring).
The comet that brought me here some 65m years ago really shook the party. Despite my spectacular entrance causing a little friction with the planet's previous occupants, they took their bow and moved over a lane. I been walking barefoot thru dessert and tundra absorbing intellectual nutrients ever since, building strength for a Pinky & the Brain style global takeover. So keep that 3rd eye peeled and sit up straight, I'm bout to sprinkle nugs of wisdom all over your muhf**kin chakras. You can call it Ghetto Shamanics.
My natural intuition tells me you have an interest in magic.........
I know you're probably checking your smartphone for cracks and dents right now after launching it across the room in disbelief that any non-deity could reveal such deep dark secrets via the web without assistance from Ed Snowden or some shit, but for now, let's just say it's a gift. So let's get to the point:
You call yourself a magician, bruh?
Let's take a wander back thru time and measure some of the shoes you're tryna fill with that bold ass statement. (It's all good, there's a happy ending somewhere on this page and we gonna march there together ✊🏽)
About 40'000 years ago I was on a tasty bit of land now named Indonesia. It was a stormy evening so I found solace in a cave, rolled up some local flora and got to it. The vapours must've caught the attention of two local hominids who'd been out collecting worms and snails from the storm-pounded seashore for tribal dinner that night, as they came and joined me. We kicked it for while and got pretty tight, sharing tales about hunting bison and intergalactic travel -and then out of nowhere- BAMMM!! Thunder pierced the ambience like the prehistoric equivalent to a gunshot in the ghetto. One of my new friends, Lida, clenched fists in fright, crushing his freshly gathered delicacies in an opposable thumb assisted grasp.
Grossed out by the pungent effluvia, Lida dragged his knuckles towards the cave wall, and with an outstretched arm wiped his palm on the rock. Deep brown peepers gazed up at the hand-shaped impression he'd left behind and a wave of divinity flowed thru him. Using palm as pallet and finger as brush he added impressions of the bison and hunters, the stars and moon, and we all marvelled as the FIRST EVER PIECE OF ART was formed before our eyes.
This was the turning point for human species, that moment y'all REALISED you could take what is inside your minds and spill that shit out onto the world around you. Mind over matter fam, REAL MAGIC.
Lida was the first magician I ever met. He took a handful of disappointment and turned that shit into a revolution; one that would eventually propel his species toward the same stars I came from, nahmean.
Zoom zoom forward a couple thousand decades and here we are hurling spaceships at Jupiter, 3D printing organs and harvesting power from the Sun. Dafuq?? I wonder how many Lida's it took to make this all possible. The future is unimaginable to most, tho thru some cosmic loophole a chosen few catch a glimpse of true potential and deliver that shit to Earth like a muhf**kin meteor. BAMMM. I call those chosen few Magicians.
Now work on that one-handed Faro my bredrin and don't go letting the world grind you under- there's even magic in the thunder if you listen closely. Go find some 🙌🏽
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