We are among you, the celestial seed of Starchild, heads held high fists raised standing not just knee deep but total-ly deep in old-batch- of-collard-greens funk. Like Big Mama standing in the doorway with her switch, can’t get around us can’t get under us can’t get over us you can’t get away.
We are here, packin’shoot-‘em for-they-run bop guns to dismiss the rhythmless… If you choose not to moveyou will be removed. Gotta help the Interstellar get her groove back, as we promoticate a neo-funkdafied philosophy of Afrofuturism. This is a subatomic attempt to reappropriate & transmogrify that which has been commodified. [End Page 232]
We are One Nation Under a Groove with a mission designed to occupy minds & restrain the maggot brains of tea party drones cloned from the “junk DNA” of Sir Nose (Devoid of Funk). Hard to conceive but we believe every Biff & every Becky can reach a state of Funkentelechy. We are not haters but originators whose only concern is to funk & be funked in return. [End Page 233]