The Wizard Jafar.....

That was an awesome self bio! I guess I might as well continue the tradition.

Let me tell you something about the guy that calls himself Smooth. Or better said, the person that people have labeled Smooth.

The birth of Smooth, John Bane stems from a painful experience I had. Not on some crazy life altering losing-your-only-son experience, but the type of event that could damage a young mans heart!

I don’t remember when it started, maybe fourth grade or so, but I thought I was in love (it was just a crush) with one Ivette Castro. Wow! God forbid she reads this, but she knew, like everybody else in elementary school, that she was my Laura and I was her Steve Urkel. She made me bannannas. I dreamt of this woman. My fantasies of taking over the world so I could impress her started with her.

Everything built up until the Eigth grade when we were all splitting up to go to different high schools. It was 8th grade prom and my final chance to try something.

Suddenly I gained enough courage to walk up to her and ask her to prom. Wow, that was scary. But it was easier than I thought. I went ahead and asked her and she let me down very easy. I mean she made me feel more confident after walking away from her.

She told me that she didn’t want to spend the last big night ‘stuck’ with one person dancing, instead she wanted to be free to dance with whosoever she pleased. I thought it was awesome. She told me she had turned down all the ‘jocks’ already and she just wanted to have fun at the prom. Great, I thought.

I must have walked less than 10 feet in sheer happiness before I was told that she was going to the prom with someone else. I turned around and saw her hugging on her date. Wow, was I ever pissed off. But I didn’t show it, instead I kept it in and altered the event into something demonic.

I admit that through the past nine years I could’ve changed the minor details of that day on 175th Street and St. Nicholas Ave in Washington Heights, NYC. But remembering it this way spawned Smooth. You see, after that day I swore that being short and skinny wasn’t going to stop me in my quest to TAKE OVER THE WORLD!!! So XXI was set in motion. Kind of sad, huh?

You know what, typing this brought back memories of the Prom, and she was by herself. And we did dance together for like twenty minutes at a time. I forgot all about that. I mean the girl hardly acted like I even existed throughout sixth, seveth and eigth grade, and on Prom night she danced most of the night with me. I sort of forgot that part through my years of anger. But it’s okay, I’ve moved on (more like I grew up) and now I have a woman at least 3 times more attractive and considerate than she was at that age.

Before I joined the Marines I was on a downtown C train by myself. Thoughts of Magic tricks and building up XXI were in my brain when I looked towards my left. This extremely attractive woman was sitting by herself wearing that New York / Wash Heights fashion that I adore so much. Tight Sergio Valente Jeans, with those baby blue timbs on, layered hair, manicure and sublte make up. But on more inspection of her face I realized that this was the same Ivette from long ago. My heart dropped, and I looked forward quickly.

I contemplated whether or not to approach her at that moment, but I took a look at myself and didn’t like what I saw. My clothes were below par, I wasn’t matching, my haircut got lost weeks ago, and the pimples on my face were testament to my eating habits. I was borderline skeleton. I was too embarassed to approach her.

I later went on to boot camp and came back. And like fate has it, I was walking down my block, this time dressed to impressed, in shape and clean cut. I bumped into her again! I passed her and I looked back to check out her ass ( like I usually do ), but something triggered within me and told me who that was. She didn’t notice me, but I did her. I thought twice on whether or not I should talk to her. And I thought that I shouldn’t.

But then I remembered that I was a man. That this wasn’t the steve Urkel that she knew. I have since then grown up, and even lost my viginity. I became legal to drink, I went to boot camp and earned the title of Marine, I was a grown up. Why then, after all the accomplishments of my life since that day on 175th street, was I so scared in talking to her.

“Ivette?” I said cautiously. She didn’t respond thinking that I was just another dumb guy trying to get at her. I screamed her name next time and she looked back. Magical. We briefly talked, but it was cool. Her life was going on its course and mine was as well. At the moment I was engaged with a female that was having sex with five other guys and not telling me. She had a boyfriend that was gay and she didn’t know yet. But those few minutes of conversation was cool.

Smooth was a mask that I put on in order to do what I needed to do to be successfull. I didn’t feel to comfortable with myself. But then I grew the f**k up and saw no need for the mask. Too sad.

Originally the 13 year old that got hurt set out on vengence. But by the time that he was going to turn 15 it was all forgotten, but the vehicle (XXI) towards that goal still existed. But what to do with it? And this is where the story continues…

Your entire life revolves around a moment of rejection from one girl.

That’s sweet.

Reminds me of the Wonder Years for some reason.

I think you’ve grown up, yup yup. I hope XXI does take over the world just so that I can hear your bellows of laughter from your ivory tower of poetic justice.

:sunglasses: As a former geekaholic, I related.

actually that was the catalyst. I then forgot what started it and when I had time to look around, it was too late. It would be poetic justice to get that same girl now, … but nope.

Taking over the world? eh, too much work for me. I rather take over the Magic Industry. Or maybe owning a lot of real estate in my old neighborhood and laughing my ass off as my old enemies can’t make the rent. :evilfun:

Or maybe getting into politics in the Dominican Republic.

Peep this for a head line.

Former U.S. Marine, Mentalist, ILP member, XXI Entertainment CEO becomes President of the Dominican Republic.

lol, I’ll make all the children have to come to both ILP and DFS as part of their curriculum. Or maybe not. Then I’ll flood the boards with a greater percentage of those third world vermin that irk the Americans.

I forgot where I was going with this. But Rafa, your site kicks ass!!! You dont’ seem to go into your own forum that much. Weird…

No one reads my site except for me and some 15 year old girl who, well, she’s just an amazing artist named Meegs.

It’s ok by me. I forget other people exist most of the time anyway…especially when surrounded by them.

You dont want that girl, she missed out, her loss.

P.S.: Hostile Take Over Granted.

why is it that you and all your friends have great websites. Damn, I feel so left out. Way behind the power curve. That I kiss Girls and Blue Eyed Girls are very… very… hmmmmm

*slowly the weeks of solitude and seclusion from females are amounting within Smooth

HAHAH, yes… yes… I agree.

I don’t know them, though, they’re friends of Meegs that she advertises on her splash page.

Ya check my forums, bro?

Get xxientertainment going! A somewhat decent site is as simple as reading an HTML/Javascript book or two or eight and reading a few tutorials online for photoshop.

Hey mister, I do to.

Dude, that girls site is awsome…

She changes her design to a new one weekly. I <3 Meegs.

I know you do, Anaconda, but you never comment so you get no love.

I’ve read a bit on HTML, Javascript is next on my list. But the damn sad thing is that I have so much already on my plate. Like Marshall once said, “So many books…”

I’m so close of forking out a grand or two and pay some people to hook it up for me. But I’m going to get photoshop in a week and a half and try to teach myself some of those cools stuff. Any tips Rafa?

Yeah… pay me two grand. I’m broke… for two grand…

…yeah, for two grand, I’d swallow.

rafar, i read your site. i just dont comment because i have nothing better to say.
ditto ILP. i am ILP’s resident silent lurker

smooth: great story. it means alot to me to discover the lives of the people here whose thoughts i have access to.

rafar has a blog. more of you should get one. yay

That is actually the point of this thread. I wanted everyone to share their life stories. you know what, I’ll get deep in personal in a few hours. I’ll write something to post up here.

Jedi, what is a blog? Damn you guys lose me sometimes…

Here we go with the let’s get up and personal hour!

I am a firm believer that we all wear masks. Some of us make it a point not to wear one but then feel the pressures associated with such a decision. Some of us have true natures that only get revealed through momentary episodes of alchohol induced vomiting. Then the rest of us have no mental facilities at all, and are labeled under the category of primates that Rafa likes to call a Tool. I am what you call a sell out!

I stay safe in my personal label of a human contradiction. I’m a social loner. I’m a nerdy jock. I believe in chivalry, and I think Sun Tzu wrote the true Bible.

There are certain people that get me sick to the stomach. These bastards walk around and seem to not have a worry in the world. And it pisses me off. I don’t know why it does. I should be happy for my fellow man. But fuck them. I mean seriously fuck them.

And then comes the contradictions. I do care for humanity. I care about it too damn much. I care what people think TOO DAMN MUCH. It really bothers me.

For example, I want people to find the joy within analyzing their beliefs. Into understanding why they need to treat their wives / husbands with respect and dignity. To uplift them mentaly and emotionally. To instill sound virtues in their children. But then, when it comes down to it, they seem as though they want to stay ignorant.

You could lead a horse to water… but you will be damn stupid to think that you can make it drink. Damn stupid, and I’ve been trying way too hard pulling on the neck of Mr. Ed to just feel the moisture on his lips.

I’m 23 years of age and feel as though I’ve seen the best years of my life past by. I still have my parents and sisters living in below poverty levels in a neighborhood they shouldn’t be in. And I could have been mainstream a few years ago.

And then I have those that say, “Smooth go to college. Try that out.” But what about the fact that for one, I can’t afford it. That I am not joking when I say my parents can’t afford to send me to no college. It seems to be uncomprehendable to some people. And two, even if I get loans/grants/scholarships, etc, I really don’t have four years to put my life and career on hold. And that afterwards I don’t want to be put in another form of slavery by having to go to a job on a daily basis. Not for me.

I’m 23 years old and I have more in common with Michael Jackson than with the common man. I can’t have small talk. No I can’t. Impossible. With so much there is to learn, why in the hell do you want to talk to me about some stupid basketball game. That does not improve my mind AT ALL!!

Or what about after a show. And I have all these questions. Yes I answer it, because I love it. But why do these humans get so upset when I don’t tell them how I do it? They expect to really receive one. Agghh.

My life has been one even after another. The butterfly effect for some stupid decision by some young punk who wanted to ask a girl out to the prom. Don’t get me wrong, I love XXI. But that is what my life has been about for the past nine years, and I still question myself on it.

Then you have these people who have no drive. No creativity. Who basicly don’t rate to judge me, give their two cents about it. This dork, who’s entire life is based upon what girl he can screw at the club tonight, who he knows at the beach, why this DJ played that song … has the audacity to tell me that XXI is a stupid idea.

But what pisses me off more, is that it bothers me. It freaking bothers me. I wonder if life would be much easier if I was one of them. Part of the mental slave population. Plugged into BET’s Rap City, and investing all my money on clothes, CD’s, and rims for my ride. If I was the poster boy thug, that will make everybody more comfortable.

People hate when I prove them wrong. When they think I’m black and start talking to me like I’m dumb (and I’m talking about black/hispanic people), using their slang. Yeah, it’s all love, but dawg…I’m trying to uplift myself here. Your dumbass walking around with your pants below your knee caps is the exact reason why I have to fight against all these stereotypes within corporate america to get shows.

I’m a negative person in a negative world. Everything I speak sometimes get’s misinterpreted to sound positive. But that is because two negatives multiplied does equal a positive.

Yesterday afternoo I called my girlfriend up at the payphone. There is an 11 hour difference from this desert wasteland and California. I work nightcrew, which means, I’m on during the time she’s awake. In either case I call her up. Next to me are these Marines talking to their wives. And the idiot is there saying, “What!?! You didn’t pay that bill? You are a fucking slut! What the fuck am I doing over here? blah, blah, blah…” Cursing her out. I mean, something terrible.

Then after a while, my girl goes to get somthing so I’m on hold. Then I hear this idiot spewing more ignorance into the ears of his wife. Everyone around him is laughing. A spectacle. I felt like taking my M-16 and bashing his head in. These are the same type of Marine that were high school jocks on the football team and were too stupid to do anything else but join the military.

Okay, I sort of got off subject, but I needed to vent a bit.


I understand…


They’re all tools. They’re tools because they’re being used without knowing what they’re being used for. Who asks the hammer what nail to hit? No one. The hammer sure has no qualms with whichever nail it hits.

Society is like a hammer hammering a hammer hammering a hammer to put one nail in one board. It could easily be done by one motivated hammer, but hammers aren’t motivated. They’re tools. Inanimate. They exist, and that…is…it.

Anyone who calls themself a tool is, by virtue of noticing err, not a tool. You’re in the military, and despite your training and brainwashing, you’re an independent thinker. That shows that you’re a hammer who is meant to be a hand…meant to be an arm…mean to be a shoulder… meant to be the mind. You’re not meant to be a hammer. Let them laugh at your ideas from inside their glass box. They’re still limited by this glass ceiling of their own ignorance and lack of motivation, lack of curiocity… while you… you are busting through the ceiling onto the next floor of human thought and progression.

You are not a tool.

But, even people who arent tools can still act like tools. Lord knows I do from time to time. Don’t confuse action with essense. You can use a hairpin to open a lock, but that’s not its intended purpose. Your intended purpose is not to be stuck under the arm of someone else pounding their nails for them.

dude, THIS is why YOU are the MAN!!!

super-motivating. Thanks. I would put a smilie, but that wouldn’t convey how much at home you hit with that last paragraph.

its funny about your tool/existence allusion. heidegger rambled something about how objects are mere things present at hand when one looks at them as a spectator. but one cannot do so because the existant is in the world hence one must engage with things for them to have any meaning/value at all. things have 'instrumentality' and objects are like essenceless tools. the world, its occupants and the objects mean nothing but how you engage with them. and perhaps we all wear masks because we have no real faces.because there is perhaps no 'real self' to be true to.

dear smooth.: This is a blog. or rather, weblog. somewhat like a web diary. one of the things i do is to surf around like a loser to read faceless people’s thoughts.

ps is the ship ever docking at singapore? :wink:

OH YES IT IS!!! I’ve heard so much about Singapore… can’t wait to visit. Do a lot of people speak English out there? I would love to set up a show…(there I go again with my capatilistic tendacies)…

And I do think we have true selves. The person we were before puberty.

Smooth, you are truly inspirational man. And I think we’ve all got stories something similar to this. I read it and thought “does that really happen at that young of an age?” Then I remembered the first time I dreamed of a girl, a little brunette that I only saw on Wednesdays when I took the bus to the gifted school, and her assigned seat was directly opposite mine through the bus drivers big people-watching mirror. I never talked to her (I was like 8 at the time) but man, I remember staying up and just thinking about her for hours! As a kid!

Geez, I haven’t thought about that in years. Funny how one thing can spark a whole nother life you once had. Thanks, bro, I appreciate it. :sunglasses:

sure, no problem Basta.

I was watching Jumanji, starring Robin Williams and a young Kirsten Dunst (Spiderman). If you saw the movie and remember it, at the end of the game Robin Williams’ character gets sent back 26 years in time with all his memories.

I couldn’t help but think that would be the greatest thing in the world!