Is Tupac Still Alive?

Young folks and teenagers won’t remember, but way back when Tupac first kicked, there were already rumors in motion suggesting that he wasn’t really dead. The immediate evidence given at the time was the fact that he’d named the last album Makaveli, after 15th century writer and philosopher Niccolo Machiavelli, a thinker who, among other things, was rumored to have advocated the faking of one’s death as a strategy against one’s enemies.

The original logic behind Tupac’s alleged faked demise went this way: he was supposed to pretend to be dead for seven years, long enough for the statute of limitations on his rape conviction to blow over and then – surprise! – he’d jump back on the scene, bigger, badder and bolder than ever. Well, here it is 19 years later and…. there’ve been no surprises.

But this doesn’t mean that Tupac isn’t still alive. After somehow arriving at a Youtube video dedicated to the magnificence that is Tracee Ellis Ross’ ass, I found myself at the following Youtube video, this one dedicated to the theory that Tupac is still alive. 

(or click here if the link don’t work)

There was, allegedly, “new” evidence. I watched it simply because it was next. It didn’t prove anything to me. But it did get me thinking again about something that I hadn’t really considered in a long time.

As I’ve written before, fame isn’t something that a wise man seeks out in and of itself. The wise aspire to greatness, but they’re likely to see fame as just one of the unavoidable hassles that come along with being great. Therefore, when Tupac spit, “All I want is money/fuck the fame/I’m a simple man” it’s likely he was being totally honest.

So why’d he start rapping if he didn’t want to be famous? The cynic might ask. Well, for two reasons:

  1. Because he was an artist
  2. Because he was poor.

We can’t help ourselves when we’re born to do something. And Tupac was born to MC. As I’ve also said before, pure rapping wasn’t his strong suit, but the gap between Tupac and the next best pure MC – meaning rapping with a sociopolitical agenda – is like the gap between New York City and LA. And I love Nas. He’s just nowhere near Pac.

So when you consider that fame wasn’t his motivation, his ego didn’t need it, and, as we’re left to imagine, he’d accomplished everything he’d set out to accomplish in the world both as an artist and a man, it does become an intriguing thought to conclude that he simply pulled a Keyser Soze, hopped into a Jaguar driven by Peter Postlethwaite and we’ll all never hear from him again.

I personally disavow this theory simply because of the fact that he was such a great artist. I can’t imagine that he could stay silent throughout the years particularly with all the strange, odd, weird, dangerous and non-too-masculine things that have taken place in hip hop since his alleged demise (I’m looking at you, Young Thug).

But maybe he’s still recording. Maybe he spits into a tape player over beats he hears on the radio. Maybe, like Ali in his 70s still hitting the heavy bag, Pac can’t and won’t ever stop MCing and when he dies – this time for real – they’re be a treasure trove of found material.

Who knows?

Pac, if you are above ground and reading this, I wouldn’t want to blow your cover. Hip hop could really use you, but Lord knows you’ve earned turning the rest of your life into “me” time.

Do your thing, Boy.

I Ain’t Mad at Cha.

About the Author

Dickie Bhee is a self-styled lunatic, a Renaissance showman, a Class A, Grade A buffoon, a nigga that believes in the greatness of Niggerhood a social gadfly and a genuine Man About Town. Also:

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