KRS-One has always been nothing less than forthright, so it should not surprise us when he spouts off a little.

I used to be seriously worried that the Philosopher had gone the way of the Poet, sent to the hinterland, with his great works consigned to slush piles of human existence.  Fortunately, I started following hip-hop, a high musical form that speaks to most of America, and to the world — if people would only listen.  I soon found myself entranced, enthralled — no, enraptured — by the lyrical styling of Kris Parker, aka KRS-One, who shook me to the core with these words:

Well, if you ain’t called it hip-hop, there’s a door, I ain’t stoppin.’
I got more flavors than Baskin Robbins!
I flash the funky fresh flavors forcefully,
Freak the phonies and flip philosophy constantly.

Recently, at the New Yorker Festival, KRS-One followed the lead of other “greats” — like poet Amiri Baraka (“Who know why Five Israelis was filming the explosion/And cracking they sides at the notion”) and Black Panther statesman Malik Zulu Shabazz (“We don’t blame it on bin Laden, we blame it on Bush.”) — by boasting that he and other blacks “cheered” at seeing the Towers fall on September 11.  KRS’s words are regrettable, for they cast a dark shadow on his illustrious career.  As his lyrics often show, this MC has done much to lift the black community out of degradation and despair:

Remember the whip, remember the chant, remember about rope and
You black people still thinkin’ about vot-ing
Every president we ever had lied —
You know, I’m kind-a glad Nixon died!

Well, I, for one, am most certainly down with that.

KRS-One has always been nothing less than forthright, so it should not surprise us when he spouts off a little.  The WTC and its occupiers got what they deserved on 9/11, said the rap god, for turning away hiphoppas at the gates:  “When the planes hit the building, we were like, ‘Mmm, justice.’”  I can relate to this sentiment, because once I was told by my white boss to go home and put on a tie, and I remember wishing that someone would fly a jet into his head.
 
KRS-One has since tried to mitigate the impact of his remarks, claiming they were taken out of context:  “I am a philosopher and a critical thinker, I speak truth and I urge people to think critically about themselves and their environment.  Yes, my words are strong.  Yes, my views are controversial.  But to call me a terrorist is simply wrong.”
A philosopher … indeed!  He needn’t have pointed this out, for he let you know some time ago that he was “Over Ya Head,” spewing these mind-blowing, dope words:

Yes, us must trust us, who us must trust —
Not fuss with us, us must trust us, discuss trusting us.

The last time poetic words messed with my head like that was when I first read Socrates famous quote, “The only thing I know, yo, is that I know nuttin’, dog.” — a loose translation, of course — or when I heard rumors of Aristotle dissin’ Plato for all that “Forms” BS, scratchin’ out this (now lost) rhyme:

The Forms is wack — boyz need less-a that and mo’-a this, Pla-toe –
We stoppin’ for nuttin’, and when you front, we goin’ loc, yo.

That’s well and good, but no doubt Plato — never afraid to bust a groove himself — would have put everything on wax and made a load-a scrilla scratch had he owned mic and crew!  Fact was, Plato was indeed frontin’ what Socrates was freestylin’, but it is also true that the Man sprayed that ol’ dirty and Plato had to carry on the message, pavin’ the way for wannabe MC’s like Aristotle, who quickly threw up their tags into the annals of history …
 
But that’s neither here nor there, because KRS-One is the new thinka in town.  By his own account, he has written “100 rap hooks and sociological books,” which all can be found at Amazon.com, one would suppose, so I encourage everyone to get a good dose of his “Edutainment.”  Also, KRS-One invokes the name of "J to the E to the S to the U to the S," so we can expect that someday he’ll be hangin’ with St. Paul (aka Damascus MC), Thomas Aquinas (and his Dominican tribe), and C. S. Lewis (“Da futha you go up, the futha you go in,  if ya can’t think Jesus, then think As-lin”).  I hope to someday share that fly space in the sky, sittin’ at the feet of the masters.

Alfred North Whitehead said that philosophy is a “a series of footnotes to Plato,” and we have no clearer example of that truth today than KRS-One, who, despite trippin’ every now and then on little things like 9/11, is keepin’ da deep-thinkin’ alive.  But don’t take my word for it; take his:

As I fa-la-la-la-la, I’m comin’ with that ra ra,
Rockin’ mics when you was goo-goo-ga-ga to yo mama.
You wanted to battle KRS when you was young, you told yo papa.
He slapped you in your head and said uhn-uh …

Word.