Destruction boyz biography of barack

When Boyz n the Hood was released on October 1991, it hit screens at a particularly interesting — and incendiary — time in contemporary American culture. Public Enemy and N.W.A. were fighting the power — and fucking the police — loudly, angrily. It was two years after Reagan’s crack-cocaine reigning two terms, halfway through George Bush Senior’s term, during which time he ushered in the first Gulf War against Saddam Hussein’s Iraq. Mike Tyson was arrested for rape, Jeffrey Dahmer for the murder of 11 men and boys. Amateur footage of the savage beating of a young, black man called Rodney King by members of the LAPD was leaked. The 1992 riots were a mere eight months around the corner. Parts of America were, almost literally, on fire.

Following Ice T’s debut in Mario Peeble’s New Jack City, a then 23-year-old John Singleton — a novice filmmaker still in film school — decided to write a film focused on his own upbringing in South Central L.A. Rather than recreating Peeble’s otherworldly gangsters, Singleton’s semi-autobiographical Boyz n the Hood was a much more nuanced take on the influx of crack-cocaine that decimated communities during the 80s and 90s. The film opens with a sense of nostalgia and naivety, but its lead characters are soon forced to abandon any notions of childhood as their lives became seeped in a litany of gang violence and police brutality. This story wasn’t uncommon to the characters of Ricky, Doughboy, and Tre. Boyz opens with the statistic that (at that time, in 1991) one out of 21 black males would be murdered before he is 25 — most at the hands of other black men.

The film was an intense and unflinching look at both black-on-black crime and the factors that contribute to its prevalence. It earned Singleton an Oscar nomination, and made a movie star out of Ice Cube. Boyz wa

“Either they don’t know… don’t show … or don’t care about what’s going on in the hood.”
–Doughboy, Boyz n the Hood (1991)

Twenty-five years ago, America was dealing with war in Iraq, growing concerns over racial profiling, an alarming rate of black-on-black violence, Donald Trump was in the news, and Bill Clinton was running for the president. The nation’s hottest hip-hop artist resided in Los Angeles.

Does any of this ring a bell?

Twenty-five years ago also marked the release of the most important film in hip-hop history, Boyz n the Hood. The film was released nationwide on July 12, 1991, just four months after the premiere of another hip-hop classic, New Jack City, introducing the notorious gangster Nino Brown. Boyz n the Hood, a fictional coming of age story about three young black males (Trey, Ricky, and Doughboy) in South Central, Los Angeles, grossed nearly $60 million during a summer highlighted by other films such as Terminator 2, Thelma & Louise, and Jungle Fever. With the aid of a hot soundtrack, lowrider cars, jheri curls, local slang, and the latest fashion (i.e. Doughboy’s LA Raiders fitted cap or Trey’s Georgetown Hoyas t-shirt) the film had an authenticity that made it timeless. The film’s success paved the way for similar hip-hop films including Juice (1992) and Menace II Society (1993).

Boyz n the Hood was the cinematic debut of recent University of Southern California graduate John Singleton. At the time Spike Lee, hot off the success of Do the Right Thing (1989), was America’s premier young black film director. Singleton based Boyz n the Hood loosely on his experiences growing up in South Central, Los Angeles. Future hip-hop mogul Russell Simmons initially offered to produce the film for Columbia Pictures, but was later cut out the picture after the studio purchased the film. Columbia offered him $100,000 to walk away and allow a more seasoned director to create the film, but he refused. Only 23-years

American rapper (born 1965)

Musical artist

Lawrence "Kris" Parker (born August 20, 1965), better known by his stage names KRS-One (; an abbreviation of "Knowledge Reigns Supreme Over Nearly Everyone") and Teacha, is an American rapper from the Bronx. He rose to prominence as part of the hip-hop group Boogie Down Productions, which he formed with DJ Scott La Rock in the mid-1980s. KRS-One is known for his songs "Sound of da Police", "Love's Gonna Get'cha (Material Love)", and "My Philosophy". Boogie Down Productions received numerous awards and critical acclaim in their early years. Following the release of the group's debut album, Criminal Minded, fellow artist Scott La Rock was shot and killed, but KRS-One continued the group, effectively as a solo project. He began releasing records under his own name in 1993. He is politically active, having started the Stop the Violence Movement after La Rock's death. He is also a vegan activist, expressed in songs such as "Beef". He is widely considered an influence on many hip-hop artists.

Biography

Early life

Lawrence Parker was born in the New York City borough of Brooklyn in 1965 to an American mother. His biological father, who was not involved in his upbringing, was from the Caribbean island of Barbados. He had a troubled childhood, suffering severe beatings from his American stepfather John Parker when the family lived in Harlem. When his mother left the marriage both he and his younger brother Kenny moved with her to the Bronx, before again moving a year later to Brooklyn. Home life continued to be difficult, including further physical abuse at the hands of his mother's new Jamaican partner, and he ran away from home several times.

At age 16 he left home permanently, and spent a time living homeless in New York, before eventually signing him

If you want to understand why leftists look back on the Obama years with such a sense of frustration and disappointment, all you need to do is pick up one of the White House memoirs written by members of Obama’s staff. I’ve now poked through three of them, David Litt’s Thanks Obama: My Hopey, Changey White House Years, Dan Pfeiffer’s Yes We (Still) Can, and Ben Rhodes’ The World As It Is: A Memoir of the Obama White House, plus a collection of first-person testimonies called Obama: An Oral History.* But the genre is expansive, and also includes Pat Cunnane’s West Winging It (with a front cover almost indistinguishable from Litt’s book), Alyssa Mastromonaco’s Who Thought This Was A Good Idea? (which at least asks the right question), and a second oral history volume called West Wingers: Stories from the Dream Chasers, Change Makers, and Hope Creators Inside the Obama White House.

I can’t say that once you have read one of these books, you have read them all. But if you read Litt, Pfeiffer, and Rhodes, you may get a sense that you have met the same man three times. Not only does each tell the same story, but they share common habits of mind, common interpretations of the same events, that reveal a lot about what “Obamaism” as a political mindset is. They have their differences: Litt’s book is breezy and jokey, Pfeiffer is obsessively focused on “fake news,” and Rhodes is slightly more cerebral and worldly (he was a foreign policy guy, after all). But each of them looks at politics through roughly the same lens, and reading their accounts can help to show why the left dislikes this kind of politics.

Let’s remember what the left critique of Obama’s administration is. Leftists argue, roughly, that while Obama came in with lofty promises of “hope” and “change,” the change was largely symbolic rather than substantive, and he failed to stand up for progressive values or fight for serious shifts in U.S. policy. He