Autotune, Prophets, and Ron Artest

In the Old Testament, when the Israelites lost their way, God sent his prophets to show them how to live again, in the righteous light of the Lord. Now, God sends emcees out into the world to blast false idols like Autotune. Autotune is a deceiver who masks the talentless with a spotless, robotic sheen, to hide the rusty creak of their throats' natural sounds. Autotune collects like locusts on the airwaves, so God sent Jay-z to pronounce the "Death of Autotune," and Lupe Fiasco to explain why Autotune must die. Where one prophet begins a task, another often must finish it. Moses had Joshua. Elijah had Elisha. Hova has Lupe.

Of course, there's a fine line between a prophet, touched by the gods, and a homeless man, touched by aluminum foil and schizophrenia, and, when one picks up a microphone, one never knows on what side of the line they might happen to fall. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Ron Artest.

Enjoy the day. Enjoy the All-Star Game, and I swear Langston and I will be off this autotune kick soon enough because in the words of Lupe:

No, I ain't the nigga trying to get a liquor line.

When I be scripting lines, want this petition signed.

It says I'm sick of dying, sick of this prison time,

I really love my people; I'm sick of pimping mine.

Now, if we autotune that sh!t.

We can hear the songs from that opera grown fat b!tch

tellin' us not to pursue it just to shoo it like a blacksmith.

We trapped and movin' round in circles like it's chapstick

and that's the same encircled way of thinking that we chat with

well, wrap this around your head like the bandanas

Fabolous used to wrap his hat with,

rather be in FEDS instead of National Geographics.

Well, I'm not havin' it.