Raz Cue's Blog

If “History is written by the victors,” then why are Marxist losers in control of our history curriculum?I think we can all agree that racism is bad. If not, fuck you! But the question is, why is hating old white guys just because they are old and white largely celebrated?I fully support every one of your rights, including the right to hold an opposing political position, and don’t care what kind of sports you play in your bedroom. Then why, because I support the president, am I deemed the divisive hater who must be destroyed by any means necessary?How come it is alright for one side to investigate every rumor and accusation, with the press demanding deep dives and resignations, but the other side can’t even ask basic questions? At what point did putting blind faith in intelligence services, press, fact-checkers, politicians and bureaucrats become patriotic?If the opposition party truly believes the president has committed an impeachable offense(s), and the American public is demanding action, why not just vote on it? Then we can discuss it out in the open in Congress via C-Span. I bet that if the D’s show President Trump theirs, he would gladly show you his. How’s that grab you?If political maneuvering to affect a future election’s outcome is a nefarious and criminal matter, then why with a mere twelve months till 2020 elections are D’s politically maneuvering to impeach? No matter the outcome, won’t that impeachment effort affect our coming election? Can the American voting public not be trusted to get it right next time?Throughout its existence, Washington DC has consistently been the international benchmark for corruption. So, if Donald Trump is the corrupt, compromised shit on the shoe of pond scum politician they claim he is, then why don’t he and the swamp-creatures make a shit load of corrupt deals? Make it all go away with a little D.C. pay to play.Last, but not least: All international relationships are quid pro quo “We’re America Bitch!”

I have a friend of thirty years, Jesse, who is an extremely talented musician. Way back in the eighties and nineties, his world class rock ‘n’ soul band drew hundreds of fans to packed Sunset Strip shows. Ultimately, Jesse never received that one lucky big-break. Or he lacked the songwriting skills, and cutthroat hunger of those who achieved fame and fortune. By the time he hit retirement age, all Jesse had was an ancient Dodge van, a dozen sweet guitars, a closet full of slick threads, and an inadequate monthly Social Security check. My friend is a fun-loving, talented, opinionated guy that always had my back. Because he treated me like a brother, I invited him to store his guitars in an extra bedroom at my house. And also move in to keep an eye on them.That was fall, 2015. The loud, obnoxious, opinionated Donald J. Trump was just entering the political scene. At first, I believed it was all a publicity stunt, designed to boost the ratings for the upcoming season of The Apprentice. I was a lifelong Democrat who hated Republicans and had only begun questioning my blind party loyalty a few election cycles prior. My transformation to a free-thinking-human had begun shortly after the 2006 midterm elections. I voted straight party-line D because they promised to get us out of Iraq, as well as roll back the ever-expanding surveillance state implemented by the criminal Bush cabal.Instead of reversing the Bush-era spy versus little guy policies towards transparency, liberty, and freedom, the Democrat-led Congress went right along with a further expansion of things they expressly opposed during campaign season. The press did not call them on it. Instead, the press covered for them. This was my red pill moment. Previously, I had accepted that the press had made an honest mistake leading up to the disastrous Iraq War, when they parroted the profiteers' fear-mongering hype. Eyes wide open, for the first time I saw the press as cheerleading water carries for the war racket, banksters, and the Hydra of ancillary industries that fund the corrupt political class.My clear eyes showed me that the United States' two major political parties are just one party engaging in theatrics. It’s a WWE heroes and villains show, with the press as ringmaster. It’s through this lens that I see why our “wise and compassionate” leaders’ solutions often create multiple more problems than they fix. Solving problems would affect fundraising and diminish their power. We wouldn’t need them anymore. I firmly believe the lion’s share of our “elites” to be virtue signaling hypocrites who don’t give a rat’s rear about the “little people.” They are corrupt immoral sub-humans fattening up off the government teat, all the while seeking ever more of their callous and judgmental control over every fuckin aspect of my life.I chose to rage against the machine. And after correctly identifying the machine, I found it easier to trust independent sources that are not controlled by six corporations that own ninety percent of all American-media. My sense was that corporations did not seize control of American’s information so they, the corporation, could shine a bright light on corruption and graft. And yes, I do consider Fox News one of the elite’s gatekeepers. Sure, amongst the alternatively-biased, non-corporate media’s reporting and opinion, there are bucket loads of horse shit and bizarre conspiracies being tossed around. But the ones I trust have a much better track record of getting news stories factually correct than legacy media outlets. Plus, the independents are more prone to admit mistakes and apologize if they make material errors. I’m mega skeptical, needing to see stuff with my own two eyes by reading primary source documents or hearing words come right out of someone’s mouth. I have developed quite an effective bias filter over the years. Especially in comparison to what the corporate shills have reported. Truth is, everything has a bias. The trick is to identify the bias and consume information through that filter.Remember, our overlords had decided that 2016 was to be a nepotism Battle Royale between Jeb and Hillary. They reported that impending clusterfuck of a choice as if there was nothing wrong with the United States becoming a hereditary monarchy. At the time DJT announced his run, my only firm electoral decision was to vote for whoever wasn’t a Bush or Clinton. After a few months, as the list of sinister forces opposing Trump grew, I began to fucking love his no-holds-barred unapologetic speak one’s mind style. Still, I figured he was probably just another billionaire bullshit artist with a smoken hot wife, playing a role. And that ultimately, he would end up serving the interests of his fellow kleptocrats. But over the years, he continued to deliver on campaign promises and strived to implement policies that benefit everyday Americans – the whole rainbow of us. All this while fending off dirty compromised vipers – D and R’s alike – striking him from all sides with a relentless flow of disinformation spewed forth by propagandists that would make the Soviets proud.I was a firsthand witness to propaganda working it insidious charms on my friends’ media absorbing mind. Jesse, a third-generation bilingual, Mexican American, had often used derogatory slang when speaking despairingly of illegal aliens. But by early 2016, Jesse began telling me how my support of Trump made me racist. I’d say, “Trump ain’t racist.” Then I’d get to hear the demonstrable fiction about Trump saying that “All Mexicans are rapists.” Or some variant of that. Or Charlottesville. Or insert any hair-on-fire-this-is-the-big-one scandal du jour that s going to knock out Trump. No matter how I tried, I was never able to get Jesse to doubt his righteousness. For even a moment! I often asked him, “What if I could show you the video of Trump’s actual speech, in context. Or official documents and statistics. Or sound bites from the same Trump demonizing political opponent, holding the same position they are claiming as unlawful, unjust or illegal. Jesse’s standard response, “Fuck Trump,” or “He’s a liar,” Or some variation of “They’re gonna take him out.”When Trump first won the election, I had figured everything would soon settle down between us. Jesse would see how absolutely wrong all the pundits, pollsters, and talking heads got it, and that would open his eyes to how little the “experts” knew. Boy was I wrong. As the mockingbird media ramped up their misinformation campaign, seeking to delegitimize the votes of sixty million American citizens, Jesse got even angrier. I’d try to alleviate Jesse’s media promoted fear and loathing by pointing out that soon there would be another election. And if Trump sucked, or was as corrupt as those before him, and a better alternative presented themselves, I’d be open to voting for them.Willful ignorance is a choice of the incurious mind, which wouldn’t be a problem if millions were not being led by compromised rats clinging to power. And as a group, the rats have proven themselves to be quite willing to set this great nation afire if their power is taken away. Jesse claims to be against the vitriol, violence and hatred heaped upon supporters of the president. But he believes that when bad things happen to Trump supporters, they deserve everything that they get. When I beg him to try to focus on what unites us and reject being divided, that hate and violence should always be denounced, I get a variation of, “Big mouths deserve what they get.”Blind hate born of the bombardment of fictions means that the Trump Derangement Syndrome has a firm hold on Jesse. But I still occasionally bust his chops. Hoping humor and non-personal attacks on his intellect might provide me a tactical advantage on the battlefield of ideas. I once told him, “It seems awfully unfair! After eight years of celebrating our nation’s first blackish president, couldn’t we at least have a moment to rejoice in our first orange president?” Crickets from Jesse. My once jocular equal opportunity destroyer friend was turned into a joyless hateful talking point reciting drone. Sadly, he believes the same thing about me. Nowadays a lot of our back and forth ends with him saying, “I used to think you were so smart, but you’re a fuckin idiot when it comes to Trump.” I laugh a little and say, “Maybe? But my guy won.”I have yet to convince Jesse to accept that half this country’s population holds different ideas from the other half’s on how to best run a government. This is exactly how it has always been. We agree to disagree. And every four or eight years we choose another clown to run our circus. A peaceful transition of power is healthy and necessary. And over time, the best ideas remain. While the lousy ones get swept into the dustbin of history as a cautionary tale. The all hate and no debate divisive propaganda spewing forth from every medium is lunacy and will lead to our demise.Only those who allow themselves to see can see, and I have tried the, “Open your eyes and wake the fuck up!” shouting approach. In hopes of getting it through Jesse’s thick skull that making America great again is about restoring pride in American exceptionalism. Every historical, cultural and wealth standard prove we are an exceptional people and culture. MAGA is not about some ism, or any form of hate. MAGA is this era’s version of the patriot’s clarion call, “Power to the people!” Occasionally I mention to him, “Our side is ridiculously well-armed, with firm possession of ninety percent of this nation’s landmass. If we were trying to start shit, it would be well over by now.” But we are like Martin Luther Gandhi, knowing that no good will ever come from violence against our brothers and sisters.It boggles my mind that people can know so much about we the Trump supporters, but never actually listen to our true intentions and beliefs. They trust the self-serving corrupt chattering class of ex spooks, failed political operatives, pundits and empty-headed attractive news readers to define us as bad people that must be put down by any means necessary. The old saying, “If elections changed anything, they’d be outlawed,” has proven true. Those who fear losing power have been making a concerted effort to outlaw the 2016 results since election night.If you truly love America, and deep down in your freedom-loving heart are convinced that our American Constitutional System is the greatest force for good, prosperity and individual liberty ever conceived, then I and scores of millions of the president’s supporters love you without any other preconditions. We are family, united, let’s hash this out at the ballot box. Pretty please!

“Rap overtakes rock as the most popular genre among music fans,” shouted a 2018 USA Today headline. Born on the streets of 1970’s inner-city America, the influential genre has dispatched to second place the formally dominant, seemingly immortal art form known as rock ‘n’ roll. Way to go rap music. So happy for you and yours. While I’m fairly sure we can all agree that the modern-day minstrel show known as rap music has been an overall net positive for generations of urban youths, I haven’t actually listened to much of the melody challenged genre during the last two decades.I know it sounds like I’m coming at y’all like a hater. Please don’t misunderstand. At times I still get into some of the really hardcore stuff, mostly the old school West Coast of NWA, Dre, Snoop. Truth be told, my favorite tunes are the really old, old school. Many of you will undoubtedly understand my reasons for sticking to the upbeat, fun stuff – Sugarhill to Jazzy and Fresh Prince. You see, I’m one of those very entertaining flailing armed car singers. If a song is playing, I have no choice but to sing – or rap – with the tune. You’ve seen me at red lights. You’re welcome for the laughs.So, back in the day I would zip around Los Angeles with ten CDs on the changer, mostly hollering out heavy metal tunes with depth and sincerity. But there were many occasions when I would enjoy rhyming along with “The Chronic,” or something similar. Being a weak-ass white boy, I always felt the insufferable social pressure to substitute forbidden words. Well, it was that one word in particular. You know the word. Society’s rules had my flow going “Neighbor this and neighbor that,” so as to not receive a beat down or random “you’re so raaaaacist” stink eye from my fellow whiteys.By the time the overblown media-hyped panic known as Y2K had passed, I had decided that the societal requirement of switching out forbidden words detracted from my musical enjoyment. Especially considering all the stuff was getting worse and worse. By then, it felt like every other rap lyric was about this disgruntled neighbor and that disgruntled neighbor – or some tricky ho. I’m sorry, I cannot believe that every woman those rap artists know are sluts or prostitutes. Correct me if I’m wrong.That being said, back to the point I was trying to make. The separate and distinct genre of music known as rap music is now more popular in America than rock ‘n’ roll. From the bottom of my music-loving heart, I off my congratulations. But that begs the question, why the fuck are rappers and rap groups in the Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame? Think about it, there’s going on five decades of unique, brilliant, artfully crafted, culturally defining music truly deserving of its very own hall of fame. It can and should be done. It’s the right thing to do!I’m hoping once that happens, them dumb son-of-a-bitches running the Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame will have the space needed to induct Ted Nugent into his rightful place alongside fellow icons. The H.O.F. is a complete farce without the truly great Motor City Madman. Sure, Uncle Ted’s said some stupid shit while unapologetically diving head-first into many divisive issues of our times. But scores of millions of Americans know he is a patriot, and agree with at least ninety percent of what Nugent believes. If not saying or doing anything dumb and avoiding controversy is the new standard, they need to shutter that Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame immediately. Phil Spector ring a bell? Murderer, and Hall of Famer. Brilliant.We have all heard the ludicrous argument that Ted Nugent’s body of work does not merit the honor of being in the Hall. I must call “radishes” on that one. By every metric – album sales, influential song catalog, millions of concert tickets sold during his decades of touring arenas – there is no credible argument that Nugent’s rock career is not Hall of Fame material. If Ted Nugent was a flag-burning gun-grabbing drug-addled Godless-vegan-sodomite he would have been a first-ballot selection. And you know it.

Why I believe every sane American should own some kind of firearm. You think Germany in the 30's woulda turned out different if it was an armed populace? You think the American Indians wish they woulda armed up, and banded together, around 1820-1845? Guns don't kill people, governments kill people. Check the stats! I think you'll find that during the previous centuries, governments have a way higher kill rate than the populace picking each other off. But, I'm willing to give up my right to bear arms. Just as soon as the government lays down their arms. End the quasi-police state, too. Then we're good.

Before my fifteen minutes is up, won’t you allow me a few points of clarification on my open letter to Duff? First, I have never brought politics to my book’s page, and very rarely on my personal page. Neither have I ever openly stated support for any political party or politician. I will never again bring politics to my public pages.But this begs the question: How does one respond to a political attack, which Duff clearly was doing, without being political? I admit I was quite exuberant in my response. For this, I humbly apologize to Michelle, her friends, and everyone else dismayed by my hijacking her issue to pontificate as I did. Especially if it made my calling out of utter hypocrisy lose credibility to many.I am speaking out again to confess that I got it absolutely wrong in my book. Several of you have highlighted the contradiction. I became aware of the issue shortly after my book’s release when friends from back in the day pointed out my inaccurate account. Soon, Michelle herself contacted me to ask if the “Dio Boots” story was about her. We had a friendly Facebook chat, and she told me her side. Which I had never heard, due to her never visiting the Gardner studios after the incident. I apologized to her and promised to take that untrue story from the book, upon the next printing. But I was afraid to publicly admit it. Or even acknowledge it, believing that I would lose credibility with my audience if it was revealed that I made a factual error. But after Duff spoke out, it started gnawing on me. Then I read Michelle’s #littlemichellelives recounting of her ordeal, and I couldn’t just keep ignoring the voice in my ear, screaming at me to do the right thing by publicly acknowledging my error.You see, while working on later drafts of my memoir, I consciously removed all events that I had not seen with my own two eyes. And any stories having to deal with girls that were in the mix at the time. So, how did this incorrect story make the final draft? Well, I inadvertently blended together two incidents, combined with disinformation fed to me at the time. Mix that all together with thirty years passing, and voila – fiction. The first incident was Michelle’s ordeal. The night that happened, I only heard reports from my brother, who was GNR’s stage manager and piss boy. He came in the house and straight off told me, “Axl’s such an idiot, he banged that chick Michelle, then she wouldn’t leave.” So he tossed her out naked and threw her clothes at her and locked the door. I heard this CYA story the night it happened because my brother lived at my house.Fast forward a couple of weeks, to what I actually witnessed. A scruffy hippie chick, the one called “Dio Boots,” wandered down the alley and entered the studio and started tossing gear around. She was promptly removed and helped back out to the street. About twenty minutes later, she returned with a few uniformed L.A.P.D officers that she had flagged down on Sunset Blvd, claiming that Axl had tried raping her. Axl wasn’t there and hadn’t been there. She wasn’t very credible. I actually spoke with the cops, telling them that she had been stalking Axl for at least a year, that I knew of. The cops seemed satisfied, and left, insisting that “Dio Boots” leave with them.Then the next night, or the one after, I showed up to the studio about twenty minutes after Dizzy had been arrested, the cops mistaking him for Axl. I just assumed it was related to the “Dio Boots” babe. So, that’s how I told it in my book. I should have left it out entirely, but instead, I gave an incorrect account that served to offer an alibi against allegations of brutality. Maybe I was subconsciously trying to kiss Axl’s ass. Who knows?From reading message boards posts discussing this event, people seem married to a notion that Michelle’s presence around GNR was a one-time occurrence, during the debauchery of an 80’s late night party. Then at some point, after being rejected, she cried rape. In fact, Michelle was around the studio most of the time. She was a cute kid, pleasant and into much of the same music that I dug. I tried a few times to convince her that a wolf’s den was no place for a little girl to hang out. But her mom was cool with her being around, and her mom’s boyfriend was a musician who spent time in an adjacent studio, so I felt she had some kind of safety net nearby. Plus, she was a somewhat streetwise and savvy youngster.Another point overlooked, or disregarded by many, she never went to the cops to report the evil mean wicked and nasty things that were done to her. That was her mother’s doing, upon finding out two weeks after the event. Subsequently, Michelle begged and pleaded with her mother to not have Axl jailed, even refusing to testify or tell her story to detectives. After talking with several people with firsthand knowledge of the events, combined with the facts that I know. I believe most of Michelle’s story, and find the rest of it possible.I asked Michelle what she hoped to achieve by publicizing all this right now. In my own words, this is the feeling she expressed.Imagine you have a dear friend, on their deathbed, and without a new kidney, they will surely die within days. You selflessly donate one of yours. Within weeks, your friend has made a full recovery and are once again happy and healthy. But then, not too long after giving a part of yourself to another, they win a half-billion-dollar lottery prize. Then they ghost you. You’re left in the rearview, while they’re throwing massive parties, traveling the world, buying mansions and fast cars. Never once offering, acknowledgment, gratitude, or even taking you along for even a little bit of their spectacular trip. She kind of feels like that sucker who gave up a kidney to an ingrate!

Hello Duff, Raz Cue here. How’s it going, buddy? Long time! First let me say, your fans have been very kind and supportive of my book. For that, I am forever thankful. It was fun while it lasted.Never the less, I feel compelled to ask you a few questions. Remember, not too long ago, when you said this?“I’m sure stuff was going on, Harvey Weinstein stuff and all that, but we hated that! If we saw that stuff going on around us, we didn’t allow it to happen around us. We were still good dudes,” he says. “None of our friends said, ‘Grab her by the p****.’ You know what I mean? Who would say something like that? And I don’t mean to be political against the dude who said that; it’s just an idiotic, stupid thing to say, for any man. And that’s the way I’ve always thought. So ’80s, or now — I could’ve written ‘Last September’ in the ’80s.”C’mon man, seriously? You can’t utter such absurdities and expect to go unchallenged. The hypocrisy coming from someone that is a member in good standing of your cesspool of an industry means I am compelled to call “radishes” on this one.You had a heroin dealer in your band. Still consider that the profession of a “good dude?”Remember that song your band did, about killing one’s girlfriend to shut her up? According to the lyrics, we were told to “take it for what it is.” A joke. Is it okay to make light of domestic abuse, but not to poke fun at a certain type of women who has so little self-respect that she’ll let a famous rich dude do whatever he wants? You ever meet any women who fit that description? More than one? A thousand?What about all the credible allegations of abuse - mental, physical and sexual - leveled against your singer, by several women in his life?Are you familiar with the #littlemichellelives thing going around? We all knew Michelle was fifteen. Hell, she barely looked her age. Forcible or statutory, you still got a rape. We can all agree that there are different, conflicting, versions of what transpired in December 1985. But every version has a fifteen-year-old girl getting tossed naked from your band’s rehearsal studio into a filthy alley, where she was left shaking, sobbing and wailing from the utter brutality inflicted by your singer, Axl Rose. Does a “good dude” treat another human being like this? Do the other “good dudes” help hide the perpetrator of crimes against a child, then aid in a coverup so that everyone’s dreams of becoming rock stars won’t get smashed like windshields in a riot? How would your life have changed if your world class singer was thrown in to the pokey, before GNR signed a recording contract?Do you wish the victim would just shut up and go away, so as to not interrupt your virtue signaling? Does it annoy you that she was scarred for life? Do you feel pestered by her seeking some sort of acknowledgment, apology, or even gratitude for “taking one for the team” so that you guys could live your dreams? I know, what a little bitch. Right?Personally, I am sick and tired of being preached to about acceptable morals and virtue from the narcissistic, privileged and dimwitted members of the entertainment industry who have celebrated, amplified and cheered our country’s moral, ethical and spiritual decay.I miss being able to freely and openly joke around about anything my twisted brain finds amusing. Sadly, our culture has been hijacked by arbiters of outrage. The perpetually offended paragons of virtue incessantly shaming whoever does not conform to "politically correct" do’s and don’ts is not a healthy construct. If laughter is the best medicine, then why are we cutting off the supply?Donald Trump cracks me up almost every day. He is without a doubt the most punk rock, anti-establishment president in our great nation’s history? We “The Deplorables” knowingly and eagerly elected an outsider and disrupter to deliver a magnitude 8.0 shakeup to the corrupt, inefficient and power mad “Swamp.” Where we go one, we go all. MAGA!Right on, take care, and tell Axl I said “Hey.”

The following is me reading part of chapter 5 from my memoir, “The Days of Guns, & Raz’s,” and tells the story of a very memorable day which changed my life forever. For all you die-hard Gunners, don't worry, in the next few days I will post a reading of a great GNR story that I think many of you will dig.Before I go any further on the project, I’d really appreciate your thoughts on what is to become an audiobook version of the book. I do believe that I have finally reached the point where I can start laying down tracks in earnest, and get’er done in a relatively short time. Well, short time in comparison to how long I have been talking about producing it. I look forward to all opinions. Good or bad, bring it. Any likes, shares, recommendations of changes, or just a thumbs up, would be met with heartfelt thanks.

Hello everybody. I love most of you. Probably. For the last several months, I've been life-sidetracked building an online store to launch my apparel brand. Luck U, Las Vegas So entrenched in these elusive pursuits that I have totally ignored RAZCUE.COM, blogging, and making available signed copies of The Days of Guns, & Raz's to the scores of you who have requested them. I think I got it. So click the book, buy it, then I will sign and personalize my memoir with love. And no spilled coffee?Oh yeah, if there's no shipping offered to your country, or it's not giving you free U.S. shipping, let us know. meberaz@gmail.com Together we'll get the bugs out.

Thought I was coming to your village? You can relax, exhale. I'll wait. So, yesterday I made a big hoopla about how I was gonna head down to the Fremont Street Experience to sign some books and give away a few Luck U t-shirts. Things did not go as planned. Think I'd be used to that by now. Well, even though I had done some Fremont street recon (beer drinking, booty watching and enjoying the street performers), I somehow never took in to account the excessive noise level. So when I arrived to my spot in front of the Main Street Stage, I was bummed that the music was so loud that I couldn't even think, let alone talk books, shirts and shoot the shit with ya'll. I've already hatched a new plan. Details soon. Stay tuned. Thanks for listening.

Actually, It'll be a FREE Luck U T-Shirt Give Away. (first 5 who mention this post)Where: Fremont Street Experience, Fabulous Las Vegas, Nevada. Directly in front of the Main Street StageWhen: Saturday March 30th 2019 from 3:30 to 5 PMWhile Raz Cue’s fabulous memoir, “The Days of Guns, & Raz’s.”has proven quite popular and garnered much praise, a funny thing happened on the way to the Best Seller’s List. Fans began requesting Luck University Press logoed stuff. Mostly T-Shirts. We aims to Please. So, a brand was born. Luck University Press will not be paying big bucks to an advertising company, mostly because our ad budget and weed budget got hopelessly intermingled. So even though the money’s all gone, at least we’re stocked up on greens and twinkies. Until we can replenish that damned ad budget, we will do apparel giveaways and Raz Cue book signings almost every weekend at The Fremont Street Experience. Stay tuned here, razcue.com and Instagram @luckulasvegas. Hope to see you soon.