And then I read this and everything made sense.
I have no idea who the guy was who wrote this, but that is
the point really – if anyone knew who he was he probably would have been
suicided…
Yeah, this does all sound like it could be true to me:
“After more than 20 years, I’ve finally decided to tell the world
what I witnessed in 1991, which I believe was one of the biggest turning
point in popular music, and ultimately American society.
I have struggled for a long time weighing the pros and cons of making
this story public as I was reluctant to implicate the individuals who
were present that day.
So I’ve simply decided to leave out names and all the details that
may risk my personal well being and that of those who were, like me,
dragged into something they weren’t ready for.
Between the late 80’s and early 90’s, I was what you may call a
“decision maker” with one of the more established company in the music
industry. I came from Europe in the early 80’s and quickly established
myself in the business. The industry was different back then.
Since technology and media weren’t accessible to people like they are
today, the industry had more control over the public and had the means
to influence them anyway it wanted.
This may explain why in early 1991, I was invited to attend a closed
door meeting with a small group of music business insiders to discuss
rap music’s new direction. Little did I know that we would be asked to
participate in one of the most unethical and destructive business
practice I’ve ever seen.
The meeting was held at a private residence on the outskirts of Los
Angeles. I remember about 25 to 30 people being there, most of them
familiar faces.
Speaking to those I knew, we joked about the theme of the meeting as
many of us did not care for rap music and failed to see the purpose of
being invited to a private gathering to discuss its future.
Among the attendees was a small group of unfamiliar faces who stayed
to themselves and made no attempt to socialize beyond their circle.
Based on their behavior and formal appearances, they didn’t seem to be
in our industry.
Our casual chatter was interrupted when we were asked to sign a
confidentiality agreement preventing us from publicly discussing the
information presented during the meeting. Needless to say, this
intrigued and in some cases disturbed many of us.
The agreement was only a page long but very clear on the matter and
consequences which stated that violating the terms would result in job
termination. We asked several people what this meeting was about and the
reason for such secrecy but couldn’t find anyone who had answers for
us.
A few people refused to sign and walked out. No one stopped them. I
was tempted to follow but curiosity got the best of me. A man who was
part of the “unfamiliar” group collected the agreements from us.
Quickly after the meeting began, one of my industry colleagues (who
shall remain nameless like everyone else) thanked us for attending. He
then gave the floor to a man who only introduced himself by first name
and gave no further details about his personal background.
I think he was the owner of the residence but it was never confirmed.
He briefly praised all of us for the success we had achieved in our
industry and congratulated us for being selected as part of this small
group of “decision makers”.
At this point I begin to feel slightly uncomfortable at the
strangeness of this gathering. The subject quickly changed as the
speaker went on to tell us that the respective companies we represented
had invested in a very profitable industry which could become even more
rewarding with our active involvement.
He explained that the companies we work for had invested millions
into the building of privately owned prisons and that our positions of
influence in the music industry would actually impact the profitability
of these investments.
I remember many of us in the group immediately looking at each other
in confusion. At the time, I didn’t know what a private prison was but I
wasn’t the only one. Sure enough, someone asked what these prisons were
and what any of this had to do with us.
We were told that these prisons were built by privately owned
companies who received funding from the government based on the number
of inmates. The more inmates, the more money the government would pay
these prisons. It was also made clear to us that since these prisons are
privately owned, as they become publicly traded, we’d be able to buy
shares.
Most of us were taken back by this. Again, a couple of people asked
what this had to do with us. At this point, my industry colleague who
had first opened the meeting took the floor again and answered our
questions. He told us that since our employers had become silent
investors in this prison business, it was now in their interest to make
sure that these prisons remained filled.
Our job would be to help make this happen by marketing music which
promotes criminal behavior, rap being the music of choice. He assured us
that this would be a great situation for us because rap music was
becoming an increasingly profitable market for our companies, and as
employee, we’d also be able to buy personal stocks in these prisons.
Immediately, silence came over the room. You could have heard a pin
drop. I remember looking around to make sure I wasn’t dreaming and saw
half of the people with dropped jaws.
My daze was interrupted when someone shouted, “Is this a fucking joke?”
At this point things became chaotic.
Two of the men who were part of the “unfamiliar” group grabbed the
man who shouted out and attempted to remove him from the house. A few of
us, myself included, tried to intervene. One of them pulled out a gun
and we all backed off. They separated us from the crowd and all four of
us were escorted outside.
My industry colleague who had opened the meeting earlier hurried out
to meet us and reminded us that we had signed agreement and would suffer
the consequences of speaking about this publicly or even with those who
attended the meeting.
I asked him why he was involved with something this corrupt and he
replied that it was bigger than the music business and nothing we’d want
to challenge without risking consequences.
We all protested and as he walked back into the house I remember word
for word the last thing he said, “It’s out of my hands now. Remember
you signed an agreement.” He then closed the door behind him. The men
rushed us to our cars and actually watched until we drove off.
A million things were going through my mind as I drove away and I
eventually decided to pull over and park on a side street in order to
collect my thoughts. I replayed everything in my mind repeatedly and it
all seemed very surreal to me. I was angry with myself for not having
taken a more active role in questioning what had been presented to us.
I’d like to believe the shock of it all is what suspended my better
nature. After what seemed like an eternity, I was able to calm myself
enough to make it home. I didn’t talk or call anyone that night. The
next day back at the office, I was visibly out of it but blamed it on
being under the weather.
No one else in my department had been invited to the meeting and I
felt a sense of guilt for not being able to share what I had witnessed. I
thought about contacting the 3 others who wear kicked out of the house
but I didn’t remember their names and thought that tracking them down
would probably bring unwanted attention.
I considered speaking out publicly at the risk of losing my job but I
realized I’d probably be jeopardizing more than my job and I wasn’t
willing to risk anything happening to my family.
I thought about those men with guns and wondered who they were? I had
been told that this was bigger than the music business and all I could
do was let my imagination run free. There were no answers and no one to
talk to.
I tried to do a little bit of research on private prisons but didn’t
uncover anything about the music business’ involvement. However, the
information I did find confirmed how dangerous this prison business
really was. Days turned into weeks and weeks into months.
Eventually, it was as if the meeting had never taken place. It all
seemed surreal. I became more reclusive and stopped going to any
industry events unless professionally obligated to do so. On two
occasions, I found myself attending the same function as my former
colleague. Both times, our eyes met but nothing more was exchanged.
As the months passed, rap music had definitely changed direction. I
was never a fan of it but even I could tell the difference. Rap acts
that talked about politics or harmless fun were quickly fading away as
gangster rap started dominating the airwaves.
Only a few months had passed since the meeting but I suspect that the
ideas presented that day had been successfully implemented. It was as
if the order has been given to all major label executives. The music was
climbing the charts and most companies when more than happy to
capitalize on it.
Each one was churning out their very own gangster rap acts on an
assembly line. Everyone bought into it, consumers included. Violence and
drug use became a central theme in most rap music.
I spoke to a few of my peers in the industry to get their opinions on
the new trend but was told repeatedly that it was all about supply and
demand. Sadly many of them even expressed that the music reinforced
their prejudice of minorities.
I officially quit the music business in 1993 but my heart had already
left months before. I broke ties with the majority of my peers and
removed myself from this thing I had once loved. I took some time off,
returned to Europe for a few years, settled out of state, and lived a
“quiet” life away from the world of entertainment.
As the years passed, I managed to keep my secret, fearful of sharing
it with the wrong person but also a little ashamed of not having had the
balls to blow the whistle. But as rap got worse, my guilt grew.
Fortunately, in the late 90’s, having the internet as a resource
which wasn’t at my disposal in the early days made it easier for me to
investigate what is now labeled the prison industrial complex.
Now that I have a greater understanding of how private prisons
operate, things make much more sense than they ever have. I see how the
criminalization of rap music played a big part in promoting racial
stereotypes and misguided so many impressionable young minds into
adopting these glorified criminal behaviors which often lead to
incarceration.
Twenty years of guilt is a heavy load to carry but the least I can do
now is to share my story, hoping that fans of rap music realize how
they’ve been used for the past 2 decades. Although I plan on remaining
anonymous for obvious reasons, my goal now is to get this information
out to as many people as possible.
Please help me spread the word. Hopefully, others who attended the
meeting back in 1991 will be inspired by this and tell their own
stories. Most importantly, if only one life has been touched by my
story, I pray it makes the weight of my guilt a little more tolerable”
Want to see this bullshit actually starting out back in 91? – Ice T – Original Gangster
Now watch his moronic video and say this isn’t part of a zionist control plan:
And read the comments underneath and say it didn’t inspire some retards to get their sorry arses straight into a prison!
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