Hip Hop Post Coital: MC Hypocrisy

The syllables that are about to pass through my hairy mandible concern me more than a random cancer scare or a Lil Kim poetry reading - but now that I have a girlfriend, porn just doesn't do it for me the same way it once did, back when I was a single recluse whose neighbors figured that I probably collected things like toe-clippings and dead bodies. Oh the horror, I went from a guy with so many porn titles in my grasp that my eardrums were constantly bombarded with a beautiful chorus of angels every time I opened my DVD cabinet. But now the sight of that same stack of pornographic filth makes me feel sort of like a loser, just imagining all the virtual continents of kids I've gleefully disregarded as I watched some chick get triple penetrated in a vat of butter or some hapless woman fictitiously forced to give multiple blow-jobs while kneeling on a mound of bubble-wrap. Its not that looking at strange breasts has lost all of its luster to me, last week as I was passionately arguing with a stripper that Kobe Bryant should be the MVP this year she flashed me her titties mid sentence, immediately making me forget what I was talking about as I exhibited a thousand yard stare while saying "Boobies..boobies..boobies" for the next 10 minutes, so I still maintain my scumbag bona fides. That being said, even though my old lady would be none too pleased if she ever found out that I used a farm animal in an analogy of our sex life - but in terms of me falling out of love with porn, its like continuing to force down bland ass turkey burgers when there are perfectly healthy cows grazing in the back yard. Shit, I'm also pretty sure that she wouldn't be cool with me publicly dictating our pillow talk either, oh well, its like a soldier who finds himself in combat only a few months after joining the military - her ass knew what she was signing up for.

(Public Enemy's "Welcome to the Terrordome" playing in the background)

HumanityCritic:(rolling off of girlfriend) Are you alright? I didn't hurt you did I?

Girlfriend:(chuckling) I've had more physically traumatic Swedish massages. Oh, congratulations, at least you made it to the chorus of "Welcome to the Terrordome" this time.

HumanityCritic: Just be glad that I don't make a habit of blowing your back out, setting the bar so high where one off performance would be utterly disappointing - with me, if I just happen to throw you a "good one", its Christmas time and shit.

Girlfriend: No wonder you were single for so long?

HumanityCritic: What??

Girlfriend: Nothing, nothing. Hey, I wanted to ask you about that dude you almost punched at my brother's house.

HumanityCritic: You mean your brother, don't you?

Girlfriend:(shaking her head) Yes, Yes.. I was just trying to block out that uncomfortable fact because it would just reinforce my family's desperate pleas to leave you... Anyway, what was up with your long, breathy diatribe about what he liked "not being Hip Hop" - ranting and raving about how the violence and misogyny is counter-intuitive to what Hip Hop is all about, setting black people back decades?

HumanityCritic: So, what's your point?

Girlfriend: Well, you love artists like Kool G Rap, M.O.P, early Ice Cube and N.W.A - violence and misogyny is littered throughout their music. How do you explain that?

HumanityCritic:(condescendingly smirking) Thats different.

Girlfriend: That's not an argument!

HumanityCritic: OK, its different because what separated the artists you just named from the cornucopia of bottom feeding fuckers with record deals today is - they actually had lyrical skills.

Girlfriend: So that automatically excuses the violence and misogyny?

HumanityCritic: In a word, yes. Let me explain: Even though I've changed and may not agree with the rampant violence in some of their songs....

Girlfriend:(interrupting) ...the other day when some asshole at the bar drunkenly said that he was going to drink your beer, you said "Do so at your own peril sir!" - its not that you have all of a sudden become Ghandi, but your shit talk has become so professorial that its unrecognizable to average assholes!

HumanityCritic:(finishing original thought) ..and I may not agree with the misogyny they preach either..

Girlfriend:(interrupting again) ..last week, in front of my aunt no less, you told me, and I quote - that you wanted to "fuck my dirty tits off". Then, for reasons unbeknownst to me, proceeded to tell her that you love me to punch you in ribs while your cumming.

HumanityCritic:(still finishing original thought) ..there was always an artistic value to it. It's like watching "Goodfellas" as opposed to some plot-less movie where people randomly get shot in the head for no good reason. It sounds hypocritical, sure, but a solid lyrical investment where the violence is told in the context of a story is excusable in my eyes. So please, do me a favor and never clumsily lump Kool G Rap with the likes of 50 Cent or whatever garden variety douchebag verbally talks tough - You got that!?

Girlfriend:(sleeping)

HumanityCritic: Shit!

Black Hillary Clinton surrogates remind me of the KRS-One song "Black Cop"(Vibe)

KRS-One: "Black Cop"


Unfortunately, as a guy who has had his fair share of physical altercations in my day, whether its smashing beer bottles over the heads of disgruntled bar patrons like it was an Olympic sport, or rolling a wheelchair bound man into rush hour traffic simply because he refused to acknowledge that Rakim was the greatest rapper ever - lets just say that I'm on a first name basis with some of Virginia Beach's finest. The one thing I've noticed, when I'm not being aggressively frisked, thrown against a police car, or being asked whether or not I threatened the life a person I assaulted based on their new found silence and refusal to press charges - is that the last two kinds of people you want pulling you over is a female police officer or a black police officer. Don't get it twisted, your average run-of-the-mill white male officer, trying to recapture the three years in High School when people actually valued his opinion, wouldn't think twice about publicly sodomizing you with his billy club if you as so much reach for your wallet too quick for his liking. But the few times I've been pulled over by female police officers, it wasn't exactly the most pleasant of experiences, I always got the sense that they were working out the affects of male chauvinism, unequal pay, or the misogyny that they've experienced throughout their lifetimes on the respective choke-hold that they securely placed on me - granted, I'm sure that me calling them "sugar-tits" and mistaking an innocent traffic stop as some sort of remote stripper-gram didn't particularly endear me to them either. Black police officers, especially if they were riding with a white counterpart, more times than not they felt the need to go beyond the call of duty and prove to their partner that they weren't showing favoritism to another person who's ancestors also came over on mandatory cruise ships by putting me on the business end of very disagreeable day. Sometimes I view some of Hillary Clinton's black surrogates the exact same way.

The same way I'd expect any self respecting black police officer to do his job and give me a ticket for speeding, drinking and driving, or having questionable sex with a stripper named "Merry-Go-Round" in the backseat of my muscle car without putting the hazard lights on - I'd also expect Hillary Clinton's black surrogates to make the strongest argument possible for the candidate they feel would be the best choice for President of the United States. But like that occasionally misguided black cop who regrettably goes that extra rhetorical mile, egging me on with empty threats so I'll react and get two or three warning shots in the ass for my troubles - a handful of Hillary Clinton's black surrogates have gone that proverbial extra mile as well, peppering us with cringe-worthy statements that automatically make Hip Hop fans think of the Krs-One song "Black Cop". Here are a few examples.(Read more here)

The Democratic Race in Seven Minutes

Barack Obama is not an elitist, I am..(Vibe.com)

After watching the utterly nonsensical coverage following the Pennsylvania Primary and surrounding the recent reemergence of Reverend Jeremiah Wright, I'm starting to gain a new found respect for all those individuals who refuse to involve themselves in the political process at all. I'm as serious as a "dutch oven" executed by Mo'nique. To some people, passionately getting behind a candidate is akin to giving your heart to someone after years of being on the business end of one painful break-up after another - why get all jazzed up over a presidential nominee, only to get your heart ripped out of your chest when they come a few electoral votes short of Pennsylvania avenue? But sometimes, like the lonely throat-chop giving writer who went out and got himself a girlfriend because he talked about his penis entirely too much on his blog and masturbated like his genitalia had an expiration date on it, sometimes you just have to throw caution to the wind and openly support a candidate that you truly believe in.(See Barack Obama) But after witnessing the media coverage of Obama lately, I'm starting to understand why some people just don't fuck with politics at all. I mean, only a black man running for president would find himself responsible for everything an associate ever said - if Obama doesn't capture the nomination, I feel that our next hope for a black president will have to be someone groomed for the highest office in the land since birth. Like the attempted arranged marriage in "Coming to America", how else could we keep him away from shady slumlords in which he participated in no wrong-doing - or radicals who committed reprehensible things when he was a toddler?

Also, have you ever noticed that every Obama "scandal" that some pundit allows to escape their inept mandible always seems to be prefaced with some sort of clumsy contradictory statement? Like, "I know Obama loves this country and is patriotic, but... what's up with his refusal to wear a flag pin?" or "I'm absolutely positive that Barack Obama doesn't have a hateful bone in his body, but.. what's the deal with his preacher?" or "I fully understand what Barack Obama was saying when he said that people vote on wedge issues when they lose faith in their government, but.. that "bitter" comment.." What kind of media, Jedi mind-fuck is that exactly? Pure idiocy I tell you, apparently the mainstream media is as scared as Rupert Murdoch when it comes to prospect of having a black president.

But the one Obama criticism that really pissed me off was the whole "elitist" meme originally pushed by John McCain and Hillary Clinton - one candidate who has 8 houses and is married to a beer heiress worth 100 million dollars and another candidate who, with her husband, made 109 Million dollars over the past 7 years. On the surface the charge is ridiculous, a black man raised by a struggling single mother who often fed her son via foodstamps, who later passed up numerous opportunities to practice law at prestigious corporate firms to be a community organizer and a civil rights lawyer. But on a deeper level, the charge of "elitism" thrown at Obama acts as a racial dog-whistle as well - as my Vibe.com colleague Mark Anthony Neal succinctly states in a blog post entitled "Obama Elitist? I'm Hearing Something Else", what John McCain and Hillary Clinton are really telling voters is "this nigger thinks he's better than you!"

But as a person who wears my Hip Hop elitism like a fucking badge of honor, I didn't particularly appreciate the way the media wrongly characterized Obama as looking down on the common man - its a proverbial slap in the face to all of us who actually think that we are better than everyone else, solely on our Hip Hop tastes that is. Obama fields asinine questions about flag pins with infinite patience, but when someone waxes poetic about the lyrical prowess of Lil Wayne - my responses range from me vomiting inside my own mouth a little bit, open-palm mushing the person in question, or slashing my wrists with an imaginary knife as I fictitiously convulse and bleed out all over the place. When Tim Russert clumsily tried to hit Obama with the "gotcha" question in the form of "Louis Farrakhan", he very calmly claimed that he both rejected and denounced his support - I too had to publicly make my disapproval of someone public, by getting a free ticket to their concert, getting back stage as if I was going to interview the sub-par wordsmith for my Vibe blog, then dissing the fuck out of him by turning my back on him while posing in the illest B-Boy stance and as he extended his hand to greet me. Yes, I'm an asshole, an insufferable prick who makes utterly hate-able lists in his spare time consisting of what IS and Isn't Hip Hop. Barack Obama an Elitist? The junior Senator from Illinois doesn't have shit on me.

For example, sometimes I'll find myself in some random nightclub, and if the music being played suddenly gives me the sneaking suspicion that its going to be the soundtrack to my random stabbing - it isn't Hip Hop. If some monosyllabic rapper thinks that "swagger" has as much importance as having actual lyrical skill or moving a crowd, they aren't Hip Hop to me. Its my firm belief that if T-Pain guest stars on one of your songs, there is a 93.5 percent chance that you are not Hip Hop, its a scientific fact.(Ok, not really). For a long time I've contended, if an artist post 1991 comes out with a song instructing the listener to perform some sort of ridiculous dance routine - chances are, those motherfuckers aren't Hip Hop either. I once physically accosted a wedding DJ for playing a Jim Jones record, I've broken up with women in the midst of relatively healthy relationships simply because of their piss poor musical choices - during my friends funeral, as the preacher talked about my friend's love for Hip Hop he butchered the name of one of his main influences. So I corrected him be saying, "Its Big Daddy Kane fuckstick, get it right!" - to the dismay of hundreds of both shocked and severely pissed off mourners. The other night, when I picked my girlfriend up to go out to have dinner she was wearing a G-Unit t-shirt, I immediately made her change her clothes, questioned her for the next hour wondering if that was her way of passive aggressively breaking up with me, and made her recite the first verse of "Microphone Fiend". I don't let people forget about misguided album purchases or musical predictions, 17 years later I still occasionally call my friend Ron and say "Vanilla Ice, really??" - or very sarcastically say, "I'm loving that new Tracy Lee CD!! That's right, he doesn't have one.."

Obama has a long way to go when it comes to being an elitist.

Obama throws Rev. Wright under the Bus..

..he had to. After the "youtube clips heard around the world" from Reverend Wright, in the Philadelphia speech, Obam successfully walked the tightrope of distancing himself from the remarks of his former pastor and not disowning the father figure who had introduced him to Christianity. Just as he had done when Keith Olbermann asked him a debate question about Barry Bonds where he refused to take the politically easy route and appease white folks by dissing the shit out of #25, just how he has done by admitting to being a Hip Hop fan despite widespread generalizations about an artform that involves two turntables and a microphone - he could have easily denounced Wright, it was the politically feasible thing to do, but he didn't. Now, with Reverend Wright's recent press tour, as it seems to be, saying things that can sink Obama politically like AIDS being invented to kill black folks or that Obama was being a standard politician when he distanced himself from Wright's original remarks - he was left with no choice but to not only throw what it seems to be an arrogant egomaniac with his own agenda under the bus, but to also roll back over him a few times for good measure.

I'm not sure if there will be a backlash from black folks, but what we have to remember is that Barack Obama is running for president of the United States and not your local fucking Moose lodge. Whether it was the black people who claimed that Obama was pandering too much to the white electorate, or the people who will probably be upset with him because he came out against his old pastors misguided ramblings - in both cases, grow the fuck up, he is running for President of The United States you toothless fucking rubes. With the chips already stacked against him, the least anyone associated with him with a shred of common sense could do was to stay on message. How hard is that exactly? My old man always told me that if I was going to be successful in this life that I had to work twice as hard as my white counterpart, I'd assume that a black man running for president has to not only be twice as smart as everyone else - but also 20 times as clean(politically) as well. So I have absolutely no sympathy for someone who can't grasp the groundbreaking moment in which we are approaching, and if someone can't keep their fucking mouth - record a scathing dis record, I mean, hold a press conference.

My daily attempt to resurrect Hip Hop: Black Sheep: "Similak Child"

Besides putting my porn stash in an undisclosed location, burning all the paraphernalia left behind by past girlfriends, and parking my car in the garage for the first few months of my relationship so some irrelevant fling wouldn't stop by unexpectedly - the one essential thing I forgot to do was to erase women out of my cell phone. I bring this up because when my phone rang the other day and Black Sheep's "Similak Child" came on, the old lady asked me who it was - so I told her it was a 22 year old chick who I considered underachieving on top of, way before I met her. Intrigued, she asked, "What other ring tones have you given women?" As we both scrolled through my phone, we stumbled on the EPMD posse cut "Headbanger" designated for a woman whose only marketable skill was fellatio, some random Lauryn Hill song played when this woman with a shitload of kids called - and also a random Meshell Ndegeocello song was for a chick who loved the ladies as much as I do.

I'm not a Campaign Manager, but I play one on this blog..(Debate Edition) Vibe.com

Even though my physique suggests that I have a love affair with late night snacking, a habit that has prevented me from getting a complete look at my genitalia since the last episode of "Quantum Leap" - I don't want to confuse my readers when I say that people should always follow their gut. Deep down I knew that the love of my life was cheating on me behind my back, but I ignored all the tell-tale signs like her yawning during sex, me suddenly being unable to "touch the sides" during intercourse, and a gentleman who characterized himself as her "new boyfriend" who kept incessantly calling - I finally got the message as we both crossed paths, him moving things in while I moved my shit out. If I would have listened to my gut, I would have known that I was my father's least favorite child, despite all the years of being told that I'd never amount to anything, I still felt that there was an outside chance that the old guy had a soft spot in his heart for his youngest child. The gut hardly lies, I realized this when my father clutched my brother's hand while laying on his deathbed, saying: "You are the best son a father could ever have!" Ouch! Forget Farrakhan, having your father give his adopted son the stamp of approval over his blood child is the epitome of being both denounced and rejected.

Early yesterday, when I learned that George Stephanopoulos had been a guest on Sean Hannity's radio show, supposedly "taking notes" when that right-wing cock-stain suggested that he ask Obama about William Ayers and his participation in the Million Man March during the democratic debate - I just knew that last night's affair would be a nonsensical cluster-fuck, mostly about fucking flag-pins and clumsy guilt-by-association charges. Again, my gut was correct. As I watched the debate, getting more and more enraged as Charlie Gibson and Stephanopoulos peppered Obama with right-wing smears masquerading as legitimate questions, with Hillary piling on like the opportunist hack of a politician that she is - I was inspired to give Mr. Obama some campaign pointers as I usually do, thanks to last nights horrific debate.

Less Counterpunching, more sucker-punches: The only time I've spent behind bars has to do me ritualistically ruining my liver and a few physical altercations that momentarily put me in city lock-up - so I'm not going to pretend like I have any sort of extensive knowledge on the ins and outs of maximum security confinement. But speaking of "ins and outs", I've seen my fair share of "Oz" episodes to I know that to keep your rectum echo-less and avoid holding another man's extended pocket as a sign of ownership, on the first day you have to find the biggest person you can find, and throw them one hell of an ass-whipping. Obama should employ this strategy, albeit momentarily. Listen, after last night, when Obama seemed to give her a pass on "Sniper-gate" and she still went all in with Farrakhan, The Weather Underground, and Reverend Wright - it became crystal clear to me that Hillary is trying to make Obama unelectable against McCain so she can run in 2012. My feeling is, if you get into a verbal spat with a fellow motorist and he hops out of his car with a tire iron in his hand, you can't fight that man as if he plans to give you a fair and above board ass-whipping, you have to fight him as if he plans to take your life. I'm well aware that part of Obama's appeal is his willingness to stay above the fray, but occasionally, to show Hillary and the Republican attack machine that he isn't fucking around - bring up sniper fire, Hillary saying "screw them" when referencing working class whites in 1995.Maybe even Norman Hsu, Peter Paul, or Marc Rich- if her silly ass really wants to play the guilt-by-association game.

Pivot to McCain, then taunt him: I'm well aware that Drudge isn't exactly the most reliable of sources, but I believe their recent report that McCain would rather face Hillary in November - that is why he has refused to obliterate her on "Sniper-gate" and other attackable issues. That being said, because I sincerely feel that Obama should pivot and attack John McCain as frequently as possible - he should taunt the 72 year old, especially considering his historically quick temper. Obama should say something like: "John McCain is an authentic war hero, he spent 5 and a half long years getting tortured in a Hanoi Hilton for this fine country of ours - a bravery that most of us, including me, can't even begin to fathom. That is why it comes as an absolute shock to my campaign that a man with bravery in spades is scared to face me in the fall, sources say that he's told his closest aides he'd rather face Hillary and now barely attacks her because of it - Come on John, you've faced worse than little ole me."

Play the "Six Degress of McCain" game as well: It seems to me, especially if you are a black candidate running for president, that any person that you've ever known who fails to follow the DMV handbook religiously or doesn't volunteer at soup kitchens on the weekends or doesn't mid-wife pregnant horses - will be your political downfall at some point in your campaign. That being said, if the media is going to put so much stock in the guilt-by-association game, its time to compile a list of shady characters that John McCain has ever crossed paths with as well. He's been serving the public for a long time so it can't be hard. Obama's campaign should start name dropping a few of those unsavory characters, not saying that that strategy should be aggressively pushed - but letting the McCain camp know that obsessing over William Ayers might get you fucked up is only a good thing.

Barack Obama, master of the pivot..

Rating Barack Obama Non-Scandals(Vibe.com)

One thing that truly boggles the mind, besides the success of CBS's "Two and a Half Men" and the fact that not every stripper you come across accepts money for sexual favors, is the commonly regurgitated theme that Barack Obama had at one time received a "free ride" from the news media. Sure, he was a relatively new face in politics and people desperately wanted to know more about the Junior Senator from Illinois, but don't confuse that with the media ever being in the tank for Obama. Because to the trained eye nothing could be further from the truth. For one thing, like most star black athletes who are called "disruptive" when they publicly call out teammates, when their white counterpart is described as "showing leadership" for doing the exact same thing - I noticed that Obama was immediately a victim of the "adjective game" by many in the mainstream media. If Hillary was telling a group of supporters that she was the only candidate who could reform health care because of her years of experience on the matter, or if John McCain expressed in some interview how he was best positioned out of all the candidates to protect America based on his foreign policy credentials - both of them, more times than not, were characterized as being "confident". Obama on the other hand, exuding the same levels of confidence when talking about his ability to bring people together, or how he is the only candidate who can beat McCain come November, is often characterized as "arrogant" or "cocky". Out of the three remanding candidates, Obama is the only one I've ever seen described as "whining" when he responds to attacks, just further outlining how many people are truly threatened by an assertive black person.(See Michelle Obama). Then there was Farrakhan. You know what, they'd only ask a black guy to disassociate himself from a person who he has never had a personal relationship with - I'm fully expecting Tim Russert, during one of the presidential debates when Obama takes on McCain to ask Barack - "Do you denounce and reject the support of Malik Jenkins, who lives off of 11th and Grand, you know - the one that lives right next to the Stop-N-Go? He has said some questionable things.." In 2000 and 2004, there were more prominent religious leaders who thought that homosexuality sparked national disasters than you could shake a stick at - scores of evil malcontented bastards who though a church pew thinking that a church podium masked their verbal venom - most of those bottom feeders supported Bush wholeheartedly, and he was neither asked to denounce nor reject them by Mr Russert.(Read more here)

First things First(Vibe.com)

The details surrounding the loss of my virginity is confusing to say the least, there are so many miscellaneous sexual events that I was privy to in my formidable years that it severely clouds my ability to pinpoint the exact moment in which I became a man - it might seem like a truly semantic argument to many, but like most things concerning your favorite bloggers favorite blogger, this particular matter is hardly a black and white issue. I'm aware that your garden variety normal person would consider simple insertion as the precise moment a young man loses his virginity, but because I'm not your average person, a career douche-bag with more pubescent incidents than I care to name where low self-esteem having dalliances momentarily let me "stick the tip in" - I not only refuse to add those to the notches already on my enormous Chewbacca-sized gun belt, but to highlight one of those fleeting moments as me crossing the "man threshold" is akin to Hillary Clinton adding Michigan to her win column even though Obama's name wasn't even on the fucking ballot. Sometimes when I accidentally stumble upon the Maury Povich show, watching some Midwestern trailer trash teen who has proceeded to fellate 90% of the men in her small town without ever being vaginally penetrated - sometimes I openly question the standards in which we historically measure a person losing their respective virginity. That being said, because I took it upon myself on numerous occasions to give unsanctioned mustache rides, along with other perverse acts an unlicensed GYN might perform before intercourse ever became an option for me - that unseemly reality also throws a monkey wrench into my "virginity time-line" so to speak. So I finally decided to count the first time I participated in intercourse that lead to a standard "conclusion" as the time I legitimately lost my virginity - I had just turned 15 years old, and the young lady who cleared my path to manhood was one of my classmates named Joanne.

Over the last 17 years Joanne had only crossed my mind a dozen or so times, but I always figured that if we both found ourselves on the business end of an impromptu meeting it would consist of nothing but witty banter, pitch perfect reflection and introspection - kind of like an urban version of one of those Ethan Hawke "Before Sunset" movies, both of us walking through a beautiful park while discussing how a two minute sexual encounter has shaped our lives.(Read more here)

What is your favorite Stevie Wonder song?

Do you know what the mark of a truly great artist is? When you routinely find yourself changing your mind when it comes to pinpointing what exactly your favorite song by that artist is - its an indecisiveness in my life usually reserved for the types of deviant pornography I finally decide to "rub one out" to before starting my day. When I stumbled upon this 1975 grammy performance where he delivers a rather infectious "You haven't done nothing" - it automatically moved "As" out of my top spot, even though the hook on "Too High" is a force to be reckoned with, thus making it a rather formidable opponent in the weeks to come. Stevie Wonder is hands down my favorite artist of all time, and despite his 40 years worth of blessing all of us with ear-pleasing melodious mission statements of Love and Hope - his musical brilliance is to blame for my intolerance of subpar artistry. Being a fan of a man whose work ethic and perfectionism is second to none, who has a "go big or go home" aspect to creating songs - every time I hear an MC give a less than spirited 16 bars, I sincerely want he/she to euthanize themselves with an extremely dull butter-knife. Every time I hear Missy Elliot come out the same fucking song year after year, it makes me ashamed that I hail from the same state that she does - and that's saying a lot, with Pat Robertson being my neighbor and all. Even though black men are an endangered species, when my ear openings are breached by these minstrel show rappers that only appeal to black folks who I would immediately give up if I was ever captured in a race war - I want all of those motherfuckers to miraculously disappear, Jimmy Hoffa style. Stevie, YOU did this to me!!!

I was wondering, what is your favorite Stevie Wonder song?

I'm not a Campaign Manager, but I play one on this blog..(vibe.com)

As I've stated before, the last thing on earth I should be doing is managing a presidential campaign, mainly because my penchant for viewing everything as a knife fight would absolutely sink my respective candidate - presidential necessities like nuance and decorum are lost on a man who's own mother characterizes him as an "insufferable prick". There have been numerous occasions when I wanted Obama to fold Hillary up like origami, and when he failed to do so I usually questioned his testicular fortitude in rather unflattering terms - more times than not I turned out to be flat wrong by the way, but that isn't the main reason why campaign managing isn't in my life's blood. A few years ago, my younger cousin asked me to help him with his campaign to become class president - I jumped at the opportunity, not only would becoming class president be great for his college applications, but just think about all the miscellaneous High School ass that would be carelessly thrown in his direction.(So, since living vicariously through him can't be considered statutory rape, I figured that I'd help him out.) For a couple of weekends in a row, my cousin and I, along with about 30 of his classmates that served as his "staff" - painstakingly strategized his campaign so much that we might as well have been sitting behind blue schematics. Not only were poster and button making on the respective agenda, but more sinister plans were at work as well - like our plan to throw the opposition off by having his girlfriend break up with him due to a staffer who had slept with him, not to mention various nasty whisper campaigns about drunken sex the opponent once had with a cat and his parents actually being actual siblings. Karl Rove doesn't have shit on me. Unfortunately, my aunt found out what we were up to and pulled the plug on my campaign managing career - oh well, my cousin still won without my help, I guess positive campaigning works sometimes. Anyway, here is my weekly advice for Senator Obama.

Start having Sinbad's back: Its funny how slow the news media works, for those of us in the know(i.e cats who spend too much time online) - from the beginning, that Bosnia story that Hillary was regurgitating seemed to have so many holes in it you could have turned it into mosquito netting. Everyone knew that Hillary's Bosnia trip was with Chelsea, Cheryl Crow, and Sinbad, so when she bragged about ducking from Sniper Fire something just didn't seem right - but as soon as Sinbad came out and said that the "scariest" part of the trip was wondering where they'd eat next, I just knew that spelled trouble for Hillary. Now there is actual video footage that completely refutes her Bosnia tale, but to a bigger extent, severely undercuts her "experience" argument that she has had over Barack Obama the entire primary season. Not only does Obama need to routinely hit her on this, but he also should ask the media to investigate all the other questionable accomplishments that seem to be nothing more than padding to her record. Her Creation of S-Chip, whether or not she helped pass FMLA(Family and Medical Leave Act), if the story of her helping to bring peace to Northern Ireland was complete horseshit or not - take the game to her, especially after she is now shamelessly playing politics with Rev. Wright.(Read more here)

DJ Premier is my Chuch Norris(Vibe Throwback)

This is going to sound shallow, but it won't surprise the people out there who know that I feverishly keep my snob game tighter than convent vagina - but there are some things in life that I simply believe transcend opinion and become fact, and anyone in the slightest opposition of that is either acting like a wiseacre contrarian or happened to born with a mild case of retardation as a result of being the offspring of forbidden sibling "love". You don't necessarily have to believe that Michael Jordan was the best basketball player ever to touch a leather ball, but his "philandering, historical failure to ever take a stand on anything" ass better be in the discussion - same thing with Walter Payton when it comes to running backs, I actually elbowed a guy in the face once just because he gave me a very indifferent sounding "Ahh, he's alright" retort when talking about the great Stevie Wonder. That explains why "High Fidelity" is one my favorite flicks, primarily because I subscribe to the philosophy in the movie that "Its not what you're like, its what you like" - this is going to sound fucked up I know, but I can tell whether or not I'm going to get along with a person solely based on their tastes in music and movies.

But therein lies the rub, what's a chubby snob like myself to do when a woman I'm seeing, one who I feel is otherwise flawless - takes it upon herself to very cavalierly sully the good name of a man who I hold so near and dear to my heart? Let me explain. About a month ago, while ruining my liver amongst a slew of career alcoholics and women who look like they grew up next to nuclear reactors at my local watering hole - a very beautiful woman waked in, sat down, and sparked a conversation with me off of the strength of my primary ring-tone being Big Daddy Kane's "Raw". Immediately I knew she was a Hip Hop fan, "check", I asked what her nationality was and she said she was Portuguese - I thought for a minute and then remembered that broads of her ilk were the same women that Rakim constantly talked about in his songs, so "check" like a motherfucker. Granted, she was younger than I would have liked - but I quickly counted on my fingers like a retard doing long division and figured out that she's been legally drinking for 6 years, which was fine by me.(Besides, I haven't been lustfully touched since the first episode of "My Name is Earl" - time to relax the age requirements buddy)

We hung out a few times, nothing special, but she did seem like a very sweet girl who really knew her Hip Hop - which was a plus, besides, even before she saw my man boobs or counted my ceiling tiles for three minute intervals, we started having these inside jokes where we would admit to not really liking an artist that everyone loves. One day she called me and said, "I was never was a fan of the Beastie Boys, don't tell anybody!" - which I quickly retorted, "I won't, I wouldn't want anyone to think that I'm dating someone who smears shit on the wall!" I called her out of the blue and said, "I must really dig you, OK, I was never the biggest fan of Ultramagnetic. There, I said it!" - in which she responded, "..and you call yourself a Hip Hip writer, hang your head in shame fat man!!!" We were doing this back and forth for a while, it was pretty cathartic to admit which legendary groups we were indifferent about - until we were making out on my couch, me sticking my tongue down her throat while giving her an unlicensed breast exam - when she whispered some words in my ear that have haunted me ever since: "Honestly, I never understood the hype around DJ Premier!". That explains why I'm such a fan of "Curb Your Enthusiasm", when Larry was given permission by his wife to sleep with another woman for an Anniversary gift - he slithered off the miscellaneous dalliance with disgust when he learned that she was a republican. I slithered off the woman 7 years my junior the exact same way.

As I sat on the couch, I must have been shooting her the most horrified look imaginable because all she could say was "Oh shit" - in which I replied, "What are you, fucking nuts? DJ Premier is the best producer ever, that's not you giving an opinion, that's you being reckless!! Reckless I say!!" With still an erect, albeit unimpressive penis still making a tent in my pants, I nervously gathered every record, tape, CD, and Ipod song featuring a DJ Premier production - playing each track for her with painstaking patience, and after every cut saying "You have lost your fucking mind woman!!" Since insulting someones intelligence is the furthest thing from an afrodisiac, she grabbed her things and said "I'm going home, call me tomorrow!" - seeing her leave half naked, finally understanding that I've talked myself out of some panties once again I belted out an insincere "Um, I was just playing!!"

The next evening, as I got drunk with my best friend Danny and complained about having to possibly abandon another relationship - I made her innocent opinion seem as if she had told me that she once had a cock, or was a republican. That's when I unloaded the following diatribe on my childhood friend:

"Listen, if she was a Lil Wayne fan that would have been easier - she'd have to play that shit on her own time - and I would never address that pink elephant in the room like it was a brief stint of lesbianism she participated in while she was in college. But Premier, I mean, as far as producers go - when you go through the multitude of classic singles that the man has done for people, you still have to negotiate the Mt. St. Helens of legendary material that is the Gangstarr catalog! Besides, not only have I come to the conclusion that DJ Premier can save anyone's career - it has always struck me as odd that more MC's don't make the simple choice and only use Preemo production for their albums - instead they pick music makers of lesser skill and the product is sub-par at best. Imagine how better Nas albums would be if he simply got Premier to do the beats, shit man, there are a shitload of artists ranging from Lauryn Hill to Killer Mike who'd thrive under Premo. The man can do anything!!(Looking at my friend seriously) Anything!

Danny: So, DJ Premier is your Chuck Norris?

HumanityCritic: Yeah, I guess so..



Fun DJ Premier facts:


1. DJ Premier doesn't produce tracks, he works miracles.


2. Cancer gets yearly mammograms for early DJ Premier detection.


3. Some say that music calms the savage beast, premier's production peacefully euthanizes ornery animals.


4. To say that Premo's beats are heaven sent is a bit of reckless hyperbole, even though God himself occasionally sends him break-beat records and sample ideas.


5. My mother has always said "If she can't use your comb, don't bring her home" in terms of me ever marrying a white girl - but her 30 year stance dramatically changed after I introduced her to a Caucasian Premier fan named Becky.


6. Our government's "War on Terror" is a joke, not because its unwinnable, but because attacks on our blessed soil would stop if we simply made "Full Clip" our National Anthem.


7. After meeting DJ Premiere, Quincy Jones could be heard saying "I'm never washing this hand again" amongst a string of prepubescent-sounding giggles.


8. Stevie Wonder claimed that DJ Premier was the sole inspiration for his 1963 hit "Fingertips" - even though Premo wouldn't be born for another 3 years.


9. When a paraplegic suddenly started to rhythmically nod his head back and forth during a rehabilitation session, doctors thought they were witnessing a minor miracle - until one of them heard "Mathematics" playing in the distance and said "Goddamn you Premier!!"


10. Sure, Chuck D was upset that his voice was sampled in the song "10 Crack Commandments", not only because the song talked about cooked cocaine - but because he was privately ashamed that the beat, momentarily, had him seeing the upside to dope dealing.


11. DJ Premier is so good at picking samples, sometimes he uses them before the original artist has even recorded it.


12. In an attempt to rehabilitate young delinquents and keep them out of Prison, simply playing Gangstarr's "All for the Cash" was an effective deterrent - but they went back to their less abrasive approach, having the kids being yelled at and physically intimidated by mass murderers.


13. DJ Premier doesn't have to manually scratch records anymore, all he does is stand over both turntables and the records miraculously scratch themselves - I mean, tremble with fear.


14. I recently emailed Premier the sheet music to Rachmaninoff's 3rd Piano Concerto, not only did he send it back with corrections - there was a posted note attached with "Yawn" being the only word on it.


15. Sure, Jesus turned water into wine - but could his black-hippie ass turn "Group Home" into a listenable group? I didn't think so..


16. The music of Premier is so powerful that I still yell things like "Put your fucking hands in the air" and "Run Your shit" while having sex - that's the price you pay when you lose your virginity to "Just to Get a Rep".


17. DJ Premier is so beloved in Japan, that 90% of the women there want to have his baby - not to milk him of his hard earned funds mind you, just to say that they have a Premo Remix.


18. DJ Premier scored a Tyler Perry movie and it was still unwatchable - the man is a producer, not GOD!

A few things you probably didn't know about me

During a random phone conversation I was having with my mother the other day, out of nowhere she proclaimed, "You are by far my most secretive child!" - a claim that I found rather curious based on an online diary that I currently maintain where I admit to having an underdeveloped black penis, and a story about how I once ruined my chances of having sex with a bona fide porn star because I drunkenly pissed myself while taking a cat nap. Before I could provide a sufficient counter argument filled with examples of my blatant honesty, she said "I'm not talking about your habit of giving "Too much Information" - hell, when you were a baby, as soon as you'd take a shit you felt compelled to tell anyone you could find. I just get the feeling that there is so much that I don't know about you, that's all." How could I answer that? Especially considering that I have never made a concerted effort to shield my dear mother from my private life, so even though I patiently listened while she voiced her concerns that I didn't particularly agree with - I just chalked it up to her wanting to spend more time with her baby boy during the twilight of her life. But the funny thing is, as I found out a few days later - some of my closest friends find me oddly secretive as well. Sure, they'll admit that I have no problem breaking down in mind-numbing detail how one of my dalliances' genitalia was so "battle-tested" that I swore I got a glimpse of her kidneys - but over the years, they feel as if they'd like at least a peek at even some of my most irrelevant idiosyncrasies. So, here are 8 things that you probably didn't know about me.

1. This is going to sound weird, but I have a weird hatred for coupons - I can't explain, it, I guess it has something to do with my mother being a coupon Nazi when I was a kid. If someone I'm with attempts to pay for something with a coupon, or if I'm behind someone in line with one - every time, I can't help it, I let out a rather exhaustive "Jesus Fucking Christ!"

2. My impatience is getting ridiculous. Yesterday, as I stood in a checkout line behind a lady counting pennies along with three other customers - I just told the cashier to ring everyone's stuff on my bill so I could get the fuck out of that store faster. If I keep that shit up, I'm going to be homeless.

3. I don't care if it includes a cure for cancer, or the specific location where a million dollars in cold-hard-cash is buried - in a rather reflexive manner, I erase all forwarded emails that have ever been sent to me. My feelings on forwarded emails is akin to how I felt when my brother watched one of my porn tapes back in the day - it instantly loses that personal touch once someone else has laid their eyes on it.

4. For the longest time, I've had a thing for delivering rather obscure references - when my girlfriend was wearing an all black outfit with a black beret last week, I told her that she looked like "Monie Love in the "Ladies First" video". I once told a girl, after performing oral sex on her - that her vagina was as "grainy as the zepruder film." My girlfriend wants me to disassociate myself with a childhood friend who happens to currently have a career in street grade pharmaceuticals, I know she's right - but as she read me the riot act about said friendship, I said to her: "I love committing sins and my friends sell crack!"(Nas - "Represent") You get the idea.

5. One thing that scares me, almost as much as being subjected to a Lil Wayne album or being on the business end of a prison rape - is seeing someone that I "kind of" know and engaging in small talk. I absolutely hate it, I can't tell you how many times I've exhibited ninja-like nimbleness just so some asshat that I casually know wouldn't bombard me with a time wasting conversation that goes absolutely nowhere. But when I am caught, I'm cordial for the first few fleeting moments - but I usually wrap it up with "Listen, I don't give a fuck about you and I'm sure that the feeling is mutual - lets unburden ourselves and move on. Shall we?"

6. One of the reasons why I'll never buy a handgun, outside of the fact that having a quick temper could complicate such a purchase - is that I have historically been an excellent shot. Whether it was a kid, visiting my Aunt in South Carolina, me and my father shooting cans in a deserted field - or my recent trips to the firing range with my cop friend, I'm starting to think that I missed my calling.

7. This is petty I know, but I tend to judge people based on the music they like. It doesn't matter if the person in question was a political science major who then went on to become an elected official - if that person even casually tells me that they are a Jim Jones fan, any argument they have from that point on about politics comes out sounding like Charlie Brown's teacher.

8. Not only do I vehemently reject wearing flip-flops, I denounce any fellow member of the male species who takes it upon themselves to wear the virtually soul-less footwear. I don't know what it is, some sort of mental block or something - but men wearing flip-flops seems morally wrong to me in the same way that having impure thoughts about a nun and going home and masturbating to the mental image you have of her in your head after you get home from school is wrong. Wait a minute, I've done that. Shit, I'm going to hell.

Stop trying to "David Koresh" me!(Vibe.com)

You don't think I know "crazy"? I know "crazy" my friend! When you have a father like mine who's main passion in life, besides fixing automobiles and the three decades he honorably spent in the Navy - was to engage in the most viscous 18 year campaign full of "You Ain't ever going to be shit!" diatribes and other garden variety self-esteem killing tactics. When you have a grandmother who desensitized her own children to violence so much, that when my uncle waxes poetic about getting hit on the side of his head with a vase he does so with a glassy eyed affection usually reserved for Prom recollections - not only that, how many people can say that their grandmother was once incarcerated for stabbing a guy? The Kennedy's have politics, my family has dysfunction - and despite the lunacy that I've already exposed you to, my family still considers me to be the undisputed belt holder of the "crazy" title, and believe me that's saying a lot. Based on an extensive history of questionable behavior ranging from me punching one of those black "hustle-man" preachers in the throat for telling his congregation to vote for Bush solely on the issue of abortion, pulling a pharmacist over his counter and throwing him one hell of a beating after he made some sexually suggestive comments to my mother, and that time I rolled a handicapped man into traffic simply because he refused to admit that Rakim was the greatest rapper of all time - if being crazy was a contact sport akin to boxing, lets just say that I'm on a clear path of retiring undefeated. Forget about the physical stuff for a minute, I'm a sexaholic germaphobe for Christ sakes - even the most innocent sexual encounters where the necessary protection is used, more times than not I find myself having months of extensive blood work done - me clutching rosary beads, praying to the almighty that I didn't just have sex with the human embodiment of the outbreak monkey. Relationship wise, I'm a man with criminally low amounts of self esteem who goes after women far above my respective pay grade - the ever flowing motif of those unions not recognized by the church or my mother, consist of me regularly telling the woman in question: "Jesus woman, you could do so much better!" Like I said before, I know "crazy".

That's why I can't seem to wrap my head around the commonly regurgitated meme over the past months that Obama supporters are all "crazy", characterizing us as "cult-like' - proverbial Jim Jones kool-aid drinkers, political branch davidians, waiting for some spaceship to snatch us all up as we wear our black and white Nike's while attending an Obama speech.(Read more here)

I'm not a Campaign Manager, but I play one on this blog..(Vibe.com)

Over the past three days, being bombarded with the non-scandal of the week that is "Pastor-gate", the mainstream media shamelessly regurgitating right wing talking points while FOX News has started using youtube clips of Rev. Jeremiah Wright as masturbatory material(I guess they were bored with "rubbing one out" to Mein Kampf) - I noticed that when white preachers denounce America, they are embraced, black preachers, not so much. As much as I'd like to think that Americans are smart enough to reject the guilt-by-association game, our fellow countrymen/women did elect the Barney Fife of presidents to two terms in office - so when you factor that in, I'd say that we all agree that Obama has to get in front of this in a very big way. So far he has done the right things, rejecting everything the pastor said that was inflammatory, writing a post on Huffington Post on Friday - that same night making the rounds on any cable news outlet that comes to mind to address the issue. That was just phase one, here is what I feel should be his second wave of political maneuvering when it comes the Rev Wright non-controversy - granted, I'm not a campaign manager but I play one on this blog.(Read more here)

Uncle HumanityCritic

Ladies & Gentlemen, HumanityCritic is now an uncle(..she was born a month ago, I know, I'm late) - introducing my niece, Michael Anne Osborne.