I can’t tell you how often I get mistaken for Stretch…

It’s always some left over Rawkus-era cat who just discovered Williamsburg that rolls up to me like “What up Stretch!?”

At first, I think he’s calling me that just because of my elongated frame, but soon after I realize “Wow, this guy really thinks I’m Stretch Armstrong”

Believe me, I get it. Stretch and I are both tall & lanky white Hip-Hop dudes. But that’s where the similarity ends. For instance, age-wise Stretch has almost a decade on me, and went grey a few years ago. It’s a suave salt-n-peppery look which I one day hope to grow into, (I recently spotted my first grey hair, yikes) but for now, my domepiece is covered by a luxurious forest of dark, dark brown. He’s also a good 2 inches taller than I am, and not deathly anorexic.

“Yeah, but you both have that Jewey Eastern European look going on…”

What, we both have big noses? Is that what you’re trying to say? Listen motherf*cker, if you want a “Jewey Eastern European look,” take a stroll down to South 9th Street & Bedford Avenue. Then talk to me!

I’m not sure that Stretch even has any Jewish blood. This topic has been the subject of much critical debate, but has never been confirmed either way. There were indeed a lot of Jews involved in the Rap Music Biz, but his real name is Adrian Bartos, and that sounds Greek to me. Somebody told me he was of Polish descent. Whatever, he’s definitely clockin’ that Jewish paper, which is why I’m never mad when people get us confused.

I’ve decided to just roll with it. There are definitely worse people to be mistaken for. After all, my man is highly respected in his field, runs his own record label, has a mega-hot girlfriend, a sweet pad in Tribeca, and gets flown all over the world to spin awesome parties for a minimum fee of 10 Grand a pop. I could definitely benefit from this mix-up! So here’s what I’m gonna do. I’m going to get fake Stretch Armstrong business cards made, identical to the real ones except for one minor detail – they will contain MY contact info.

“Why does it say “”?!

Don’t worry about it! It’s an inside joke, long story…

I’m gonna ride this thing out as long as I possibly can: travel the globe, fly first class, stay at fancy hotels, eat caviar, perform at all the most chi-chi venues, until I inevitably get exposed as an imposter, or even worse, someone approaches me and says “What up Rok One!?

You’ve been an amazing audience. Tune in next Wednesday for another epic rant from Stretch – I mean yours truly…

-Rok Armstrong

Wednesday 7.28.2010 by Rok One

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