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ASK MAX

February 2, 2006 Edition

Dear Max:

If our ears burn when people are talking about us, then what happens when people are thinking about us?

Rodin

Dear Rodin,

Well, this question assumes it’s true that our ears burn when people are talking *about* us, which I don’t believe. My ears burn mainly when I’m sleeping too close to a heating vent. Sometimes my ears burn when someone is talking *to* me — or rather, yelling *at* me, just because I wanted to know what was in a plastic garbage bag. PLEASE! I’m just investigating, to make sure the humans didn’t carelessly toss something edible. There are starving people in Africa, for gosh sake! Sometimes, that adventure gives me *heart*burn, so I’m not sure if that’s related. But to your question, I have observed that when people are thinking about us, and then look at us, and smile, and scratch us, we get all warm and oogy inside. Try it out: think about someone now, and go scratch them, and then ask them what they feel.

…cont. from previous column

“Trapped In The Closet”

by Max Crane

I’m hungry

But what else is new

Eat and play is all I do

I’m chillin and maxin

Round my crib

If it’s dinnertime

Then I’ve got dibs…

But now you be tellin’ me

We’re out of food

I heard that before

And it’s never good

Is there food in the closet?

(Must be food in the closet)

Check for food in the closet

(Maybe back of the closet)

Have you thought of the closet?

(Usually some in the closet)

And then it hits me —

What I seen before

Disappear ‘round that closet door

It was on the tube

When I was small

Close my eyes, still see it all…

A covered wagon, racing past

A little dog who said, “My a**!”

The dog gave chase

But came up dry

The covered wagon rumbled by

Then it went in the closet

(It was CHUCK in the closet)

Purina CHUCK in the closet!

(CHUCKWAGON Dry in the closet)

Just add water for gravy!

(That could make it so tasty!)

Why not check in the closet?

(The wagon went in the closet…)

Maybe still in the closet

(That ad don’t lie ‘bout the closet…)

Ohh-ohhhh-ohhh ohh-ohhhh…

Woooo-oooh-oooh oooh-oooh

Howwwllll howwwoooooool…

Dear Max:

Six years into this new century with all of our technological advances over the years, how is it that white folk can still get away with performing rap music?

Cil Y-D

Dear Cil Y-D,

White artists have been stealing black music since Mozart ripped off Don Giovanni from James “Daddy” Crawford’s “Playuh” in 1785. And since audiences have an inexplicable but undeniable predilection for “their own,” black music performed by whites often means big bucks for everyone involved (except the black songwriter) — and the human spirit is nothing if not relentless in its pursuit of the benjamins. Lots of theories have been offered; maybe white audiences see a white singer doing what’s essentially “black” material and think, “Wow — we can be soulful, too!” It’s sad, but as Elvis Presley said, “That’s All Right Momma.” Or, wait — that was Arthur “Big Boy” Crudup. Oh well. At least we live in an age where black musicians and music can make it on their own. And look at it this way: what white musician is EVER going to try to steal R Kelly’s “Trapped in the Closet”?

« Continued in previous column…

(Upon further consideration, I decided to take a stab at it myself. Look left for Max’s version of Trapped In the Closet)

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