To understand the nature of what drives my work, it's important to accept the concept of supply and demand.

Not so long ago, WWI wrote a conceited diatribe, Systematic Immolation of Thought.  This was one of the most bloated and ridiculous tirades unleashed on the Streets, and ignored until a descendant of the Kuku bloodline mocked it, then wrote about it.

What's the point?  The point is that pseudo-academic treatises don't go down well on these Streets.  Short, punchy challenges, requiring comebacks, are popular, as are concise dictum, announcements and statements.

There is an almost permanent demand for what I described above.  And I can, better than many, supply it.

So that's cleared that up.  

But then the question arises - what motives my bloodline?

This is slightly more complex.  My bloodline, historically, never excelled at marksmanship.  Self-analysis and awareness of society allowed my forefathers to realise that, sometimes, the pen is mightier than the sword.  And just as guns can be used to grab power, words can be used to effect change.

So far, we have a demand for something, the power to sate that demand and an awareness that that something can do what the actor believes to be some good.

Next, of course, every one of us wants something from this thing.  Money to buy BGs, play cards, kick up to the boss.  Power, to shoot someone, to avenge a relative, to run a crew, to take a city.  Reputation, built on what I just said.  For my bloodline, and contradicting what many see merely as a thirst for attention, the real driver is knowing that your words, and not your rank or your gun, gets you invited into just about any room on IRC avenue.  When CL meetings take place and you're privvy to everything that's been said and you know your input is being taken into account.  

That, my friends, is the type of power that I like.

Now, is attracting a crowd to listen to me enough to do that?  No, not really.  But, if powerful people (some of them friends, most of them associates) approach me with this bit of information, or that bit of dirt (along with a few $$$ for my trouble), then all of a sudden, you're in a pivotal position.  And that can be very good.

For those familiar with my blood's writing, you'll have noticed a recurring cast of characters.  The Fuller lineage, the little scamp instrumental in putting my blood on the path it's on.  WWI and Iocaste, two jokers who are always good copy.  Prem, oh Prem.  And at various times a good few others.  Teq... It might be said that this is writing for pleasure.

Those familiar will also have noticed me attacking others, Roman, Bismarck and the vile Tiggy, for example.  I was tipped off, paid and motivated to write exposes and comebacks.  This could be described as writing for results.

So, with all of this in mind, ask yourself.  

What's motivated this recent bout of Street presence?

If you're going to needlessly and pointlessly reminisce about past speeches perhaps you could at least be a little witty or have some sort of agenda. I have more to say when I order my morning coffee than you did about a speech that was written three years ago.

I believe the lovely lady was referring to the speaker before you Sir Plumber.

Here's my two cents, as I care less about what Kuku says, but struggle with the fact that he believes he has any power whatsoever. No one of any importance has ever told him anything thirty other people did not already know, nor have they ever told him everything these said thirty people already knew. He is the fellow at the end of the circle in the game of telephone. He thinks he knows all the information, but, in reality, he picks a few pieces he thinks are juicy, and runs off to tell anyone who will listen, and describe fantasies only he can conjure.

While the man and his blood are quite the story tellers, they are undoubtedly just that..stories. Read to his children or those with his ear (I do not doubt there are some seduced by his way with words) to either soothe or scare them.

I, for one, enjoy the tales and his ramblings from time to time, but to come out here, to the streets, and claim that your words have power behind them, is just laughable, and a bit degrading to yourself. I appreciate the ego, but, an over-inflated one just tends to drift off into the wind with the sound of a wet fart.

Exposed in what context? Some dubious plot whispered into an ear, then another, then another, just like the game of telephone I described? Fear mongering is not power. It is inciting fear into those who are already so paranoid that anyone could claim anything to be a threat, and if able, this threat, real or not, is extinguished.

Tell me a good enough story, say that my wife is sleeping with another man perhaps, and if it sounds real enough, said man is dead and said wife with him..if I were a jealous type prone to believe such stories. But if I am a man confident in my marriage, nothing but seeing the act itself would make me believe such a thing, no matter the story teller.

The ability to manipulate an already pre-disposed condition is not power, it is the tool of men without power.

I must admit my ignorance to the fact the lovely Lacey was indeed speaking to Sir Plumber. I blindly walked into a conversation not knowing that those present were speaking on something written on a board, and not a fresh new face. I'll publicly admit I showed attention to a matter that should have well been left alone, and leave it there, while walking around with my dunce cap for a bit.

Quaint. No, Outkast realized he had misconstrued context in the prior conversation, and therefore, instead of looking more like an ass than he already was, opted to admit to his confusion and walk away. Lacey is not my boss, by the by.

Expert intel and tactics equate to sneaking around, gobbling up bits of info, spitting said manipulated info into paranoid ears. None of this equates to power I'm afraid. I'm not saying you are not good at what you do, I am saying it  does not give you power you think it gives you. Believe what you wish, my blood has been around since you came to these shores, and, if I'm not mistaken, our lineages also shared the air in another distant land. You've always been this way, you always will be. It makes for decent entertainment, but has nothing to do with power.

Kuku obviously holds himself in high regard if he calls himself a master of intel gathering and tactical genius... Although, I must say, I am impressed Kuku is flexible enough to blow himself this hard. 

Dub covers his eyes to avoid being scarred by such narcissistic self loving. 

Shared ancestral home? I have no clue what you're speaking of. 

If you're speaking of your grandfather's and I shared home of Las Vegas, I respected your grandfather solely for that reason. But you don't carry yourself as he did... 

Ireland, Dub, Ireland.  Our ancesteral home is the Emerald Isle.

Ah, Las Vegas.  Do you mean the Las Vegas Costello Faction?  When Richard_Kuklinski was the youngest and lowest ranked city leader in recorded history?  When he headed up an outfit for five months?  When he owned and operated a casino?  

Oh! Kuku, No! Quit blowing yourself!! Christ, it's getting embarrassing. 

I just discovered your bloodline, Dub.  No wonder yours doesn't like mine, ahahaha