It's Like The Greeks vs. The Trojans All Over Again

I have tried to stay out of this discourse for as long as is humanly possible, but I know now that it would be the height of irresponsibility for me, holding the position that I do in this world, to withhold my influence any longer. I have decided that the time to speak is now, lest the situation become any direr as a result of my continued silence. Friends, esteemed colleagues, and Canadians who inexplicably subscribe to this blog, the time has come for me to jump headfirst into what future scholars will come to regard as the debate of the century. I am referring, of course, to “Kanye West vs. 50 Cent: Decision 2007”, and the consequences of the outcome now weigh heavily on my shoulders. I can only pray that I’m strong enough to see this conflict through to a peaceful and nonviolent end.



The question of which side to support was never an issue for me. I am a person who values loyalty above all else, and my feet have always been firmly planted on the side of 50. A hardworking man, committed to excellence and physical fitness, 50 has always piqued my interest. Without a doubt, his music is unfailingly fascinating, and he has proven himself to be a fascinating man as well. Born unto the rough streets of South Jamaica, Queens, 50 (nee Curtis Jackson) began selling drugs at the age of twelve. Twelve, ladies and gentlemen. This is nothing short of a tribute to Fiddy’s inherent, unrelenting, entrepreneurial spirit. Still, young Curtis dreamed of a better life for himself and, after a stint in prison for dealing (during which time he adopted the “50 Cent” moniker, which is metaphorical for “change” - man, that is so beautiful. It brings tears to my eyes.), he ended his career as a supplier to pursue a more suitable métier: Rapping.

But Fate did as she often does, and, on the brink of that life-altering decision, Fiddy was the victim of a drive by shooting, taking nine bullets in the arm, chest, hand, left cheek, hip, and both legs. By the grace of God, 50 survived the brutal attack. After spending 13 days in the hospital, followed by another six and a half months in recovery, 50 lives on as a testament to sheer willpower, dedication, and, again, physical fitness. He is a true manifestation of the American dream.

On the other side of this debate, we have Kanye “George Bush Hates Black People” West, who by all accounts lived a far more sheltered, pampered lifestyle than a young Curtis Jackson would ever have dared to dream of. Why should we root for you, Kanye, when the worst thing that happened to you in your formative years was that your parents got divorced? 50’s mom was straight up murdered, and he never even knew his father. You attended the frou frou American Academy of Art in Chicago during your high school years. Where was 50? In jail, getting his GED and trying to make a fresh start, that’s where. And while I would never seek to minimize anyone’s suffering, I feel compelled to point out that while 50 was off getting shot nine times (nine times!), the victim of savage, vicious thuggery, your only claim to physical pain was a broken jaw, a jaw that was broken in a car accident that only occurred because you fell asleep at the wheel. I doubt 50 even had a car! And where you selfishly exploited this bit of personal recklessness for your song “Through The Wire", 50 only briefly mentioned his plight in "In Da Club”, and I feel sure he did this as a courtesy to his fans, to let them know that even after the horrific shooting, he is fine – so fine that his swagger isn’t even marred by the slightest hint of limp. And even now, while you delight in Epicurean romps at various disgusting strip joints, 50 Cent toils away in his humble Manhattan office, taking multiple meetings a day – the consummate businessman. To choose between you two would be like choosing between a Cable Ace Award and an Oscar. I think you know which one you are, Kanye. And I think you know which one I’m choosing.

That being said, the reality of the situation is that the deck is currently stacked in the favor of Mr. West. However, in this epic struggle, I have my suspicions about who will come out the victor. While Kanye may currently be outselling 50 (and congratulations to him on that – his little tune, “Stronger”, is catchy in a way that only superbly processed and manipulated music can be), I feel that the man formerly known as Curtis Jackson will ultimately prevail. Kanye can carry on rapping about Kate Moss, calling himself “The Louis Vuitton Don,” railing against the “haters,” and wearing all the Lacoste polo shirts the world has to offer – I guess that's his "truth," and I hope that fulfills him. As for me, I will continue to delight in the man, the music, and, let's face it, the hero that is 50 Cent.