There's only three years left before the first wave of 80's babies such as myself become 30. If the mopey complaining and nagging self-doubt of my tri-decades-old friends is any indication, I should brace myself for a sudden loss of all my youthful swagger once I cross that threshold of the new midlife.
At 30, my taste in music will change from songs that make me wanna dance, to tunes that can be acceptably played at low volumes in the workplace.
My flashy fashion sense will be replaced by productivity gadgets that literally flash.
My political interests will shift from changing the world, to making sure my brand new property continues to increase in value.
The 90's babies who talk loud, yet have no idea what they're yelling about - I'll envy them (except the females - I'll want to date them).
And hip-hop will cease to be the framework I view the whole world in. So why not start early?
March marks my 5th year blogging about hip-hop, and my last. Peace.
Michael Eric Dyson is a Black scholar, social critic, and even a minister. With all of those titles, I can't imagine anymore who could have a better grip on the overlapping race, class, political, and spitirtual issues dregged up by the flood waters of Hurricane Katrina. 
If you are a hiphop head working in Corporate America, pre-order this book. If you are a minority student working towards a career in business, PR, marketing, or advertising, do everything you can to get it. Seriously, photocopy it from a friend if you have to. Tell your mother. Tell your father. It's that good.