MY DAD, JIMI HENDRIX, MONEY, & ME
One fine day, back in 1969, I showed my Dad a picture of Jimi Hendrix in a magazine, posing for a camera backstage at an outdoor festival in Miami. He was hamming it up, acting like a sexual rockstar, kind of as a joke, and holding the guitar like it was his dick, and he was all "silky"ed out 2 tha max like a pimp, and he had the front and side tips of his afro frosted (by Linda Eastman). I figured that picture of total black outrageousness would blow Dad's fucking mind. I wanted to see if I could provoke a glimmer of intolerance, cuz my dad was ultra on top of maintaining his own "older" style cool, amounst a bunch of "young" cool without any friction whatsoever, so naturally, I thought Jimi might be a good "loosener" for some of those more repressed sensibilities to come forth. Of course, it didn't work, but my Dad did kind of flare a little, but instead of prejudice or putdown, he grabbed the moment as he looked at The Most Outrageous Rock'n'roll Person he ever saw, and he said,
"He does that For Money."
I was like, "....wha?....naw, man, naw, he does it cause He's Cool, Dad." (I was serious.)
He said, "Look, he dyes his hair like a whore, For Money."
"No, that's his real hair..."
I was still, "....Naw, Dad, He's Cool, man, like Cream & Iron Butterfly..."
I guess that's THE moment I first realized Black People DON'T have Blond Streaks. That was also THE first time I semi-realized that Those Kinda Guys Did Do That For Money. Later on, I realized that FOR MONEY is the ONLY way they would ever LET a guy like Jimi Hendrix exist.....(!)... Hey! Wait a minute....