On this day, 32 years ago on the island of Oahu, Louise and James brought a bouncing baby boy into this world. That 8 pounds 10 ounces of caramel goodness would one day become the insufferable prick that most of you know today as the HumanityCritic. How do I put this delicately? It's my motherfucking Birthday!!! Not only is this day representing my 32nd year on this earth, but it is also the one year anniversary of this blog.(The exact date is a week from now, but its still close) So before I continue on with my nonstop bullshit and incoherent rambling, let me take the time to thank all of you for checking out my blog and the kind words you have thrown my way. I appreciate every one of you, sincerely.(Just make sure you fuckers vote for me here. You can get further instructions here. OK, the pandering is over.)To be honest with you, looking back on my life, I am happy that I made it this far but I am also surprised. Surprised because since I saw a good friend of mine get shot when I was a kid I have kind of lived life with a reckless abandon, until the past few years.(I learned that interesting tidbit during a therapy session, Tony Soprano ain't got shit on me!!) This entry is inspired by all the memorable birthdays I have had.
10 years old:(1983) Even though me and my father didn't get along much, I think we both have a twisted sense of humor. I remember the days approaching my tenth birthday he kept saying that I wasn't going to get anything if I didn't behave. I thought he was bluffing and I dismissed his pedestrian threats. The day before my birthday he said, "OK, this is your last chance to straighten up your act!". I remember nodding in agreement, but having a "Fuuuck Yooou!" look on my face as he threw idle threats my way. My birthday comes and I wait, wait, then wait some more for some gifts or something, but I didn't get anything. My dad was like, "You thought I was bullshitting, you aren't getting a motherfucking thing!!" The sickest part is that my siblings or my mother didn't intervene in this madness, showing this lunatic the error of his ways. I remember crying myself to sleep, only to be awakened by my father, with him holding a cake and my mother coming in with a plethora of gifts. It was pretty shitty, and my father knew it, because it was the only time outside his final days on his death bed where he apologized to me.
16 years old(1989): Like most teens about to turn 16, I couldn't wait to get my license and cause absolute havoc. My parents didn't want me to drive at all, not because I couldn't handle the machinery correctly, but because they knew that I was nuttier than squirrel shit and would probably end up running some poor motherfucker over on purpose. Anyway, I got my license, and was ready to drive my Hooptie(Cutlass) around town. Lets just say that my first day of legal driving was a memorable one. My cousin, my friend Keith, and myself decided to get a shitload of eggs and tattoo passers-by like we were doing a suburban drive-by. Yes it was immature, yes it was childish, and it was mean to pummel random pedestrians with eggs, but I never laughed so hard in my life. Hearing the sounds of grown men scream in fear and agony as raw eggs exploded on their person is a memory that will last forever.
21 years old(1994): Believe it or not, before the age of 21 I rarely messed with alcohol. I mean, I would occasionally get hammered over some chicks house that I wanted to get to know biblicly, but those times were few and far between. My cousin's good friend, who became my friend eventually, was in town from New York to find a apartment because he planned on relocating. The day of my birthday we hung out all day, and I remember drinking nasty ass "Zima's" with him in the parking lot of a shopping mall. I was so drunk, in broad daylight mind you, that the only thing that I recall is saying wildly inappropriate things to anyone possessing a vagina that day and making a fool out of myself. Wait a minute, I remember that night being at the Oceanfront freestyle batting random rappers, still saying wildly inappropriate things to women, and still making a fool out of myself. Seems like things haven't changed that much over the years.
22 years old(1995): A year into drinking legally, I became the wildest I have ever become in such a short time period. Alcohol made a quick tempered, abrasive asshole into a quicker tempered, more abrasive asshole with a "hit first" mentality. At this time I was in a rap group called "See no Evil" with my best friend at the time and two of his cousins. We were actually kind of good, to the point that people around town started to know us for our rapping prowess. On this day 9 years ago we had a show at this Hip Hop club that I can't remember the name of. We were on the bill with a few other acts and we happened to go last that night. Our set went well, the crowd was responsive, and at the end I felt good enough to bust a freestyle rhyme where I gave the group that preceded us some love. When we get off the stage the group that I gave a shout out to had thought, somehow, that I dissed them. I tried to explain that I was giving them love in my freestyle verse but they weren't trying to hear it. After being on the business end of a few too many "I'm going to kick your ass' rants, I walked over to the the main one talking shit and smashed him over the head with a chair. The next 15 minutes was spent not only fighting that particular group, but also the host of the night that tried to break it up, and the father of one of the men that we were fighting. The night ended with a pair of handcuffs being tightly secured around my wrists. It just goes to show you that alcohol and a innocent freestyle rhyme sometimes don't go together.Born on this Day:
Chris Tucker
Debbie Gibson
Eldridge Cleaver
Buddy hackett
James Coburn
Virgo's of Note:
Kobe Bryant
Dave Chappelle
Nas
Michael Jackson
Salma Hayek
Stephen King
Beyonce
Ludacris
Otis Redding
Moby
Ray Charles
Branford Marsalis
Cal Ripkin Jr.
River Phoenix
Elvis Costello
Lennox Lewis
Charlie Sheen
Damon Wayans
Raquel Welch
Gloria Gaynor("I will survive")
Richard Roundtree("Shaft")
Pink
Adam Sandler
Moby
Yao Ming
Fiona Apple
Dan Marino
Oliver Stone
B.B. King
Lance Armstrong
Jada Pinkett Smith
James Gandolfini
Bill Murray
Ricki Lake
Joan Jett
Bruce Springsteen
Gene Simmons
Sean Connery
Regis Philbin
Macaulay Culkin
Mother Teresa
Pee-Wee Herman
Gloria Estefan
Dr. Phil
It seems like when you are younger, you have high expectations of what your future wife will be. You see her looking like a modern day Dorothy Dandrige, with the an intergalactic I.Q, and a sense of grace and style that can't be paralleled. But when you look in the mirror and see a 31 year old, single, and childless prick, the bar gets lowered somewhat. Lowered to the fact that the only qualifications for being the next Mrs. HumanityCritic would probably be having a functioning vagina, and not irritating the piss out of me on a regular basis. OK, maybe not that low, but you get the idea.
Musical Tastes: There are certain things that I have no problem changing about myself. One day I hope to be less of an overall asshole, drink less, be less abrasive, shit like that. But one thing that I won't change is my feeling that, like John Cusack's character in "High Fidelity" says so eloquently, "Its not what you're like, it's what you like!" It might be wrong, but the certain movies and music you like says a lot about you. My future wife, whatever poor soul that may be, would hopefully like music that I like or music that I respect. For example, she doesn't have to like old school hip hop or R&B like I do, but if she preferred classical or if she was a huge jazz aficionado, that would be cool with me. But if she liked the Ying Yang Twins, thought that Jah Rule was the best rapper ever, played Toby Keith's greatest hits on a loop, or had P.Diddy on her Top Ten Greatest Rappers list, her ass who have to go. It sounds childish I know, but I'm being honest, because if I don't respect your choice in music then everything you say to me concerning music from that point forward would sound like Charlie Brown's fucking teacher."Whah-whah-Whah"
Political Views: When it comes to the political views of my future wife I'd rather her believe what I believe, or be A-political, not really caring much about politics. Some people think that two people of different political ideologies can co-exist happily, and if they can then I am truly happy for them. Not in my case, because the first time I hear my wife say some shit like, "We have to support Condi Rice" simply because she is a woman of color, hear her equate opposition to the war as "not supporting the troops" or some mindless drivel like that, I would seriously consider putting a hit out on her. Just kidding, kind of. I just feel that I am argumentative enough, I don't want our political beliefs to be another stressful situation in our marriage. Plus, I can see it now, my wife holding back sex from me simply because I said that "Bush was a goddamn idiot with the I.Q of a lawn-chair." Imagine that, me not getting Bush because of Bush.
Doesn't need a Nascar Pit Crew to get ready: Ladies, I understand that many of you need your make-up and other cosmetics to get ready. In no way am I against that in any form or fashion. What I am against, having been in the dating game for 16 years now, is women who need like five hours to get ready. While you are outside some women's bathroom door you can actually hear a pit-crew, changing tires and oiling her ass up, ala a Nascar Race. Worse than that, women who feel that they need to put on a shitload of make-up, their best Sunday dress, accompanied with the matching earrings and scarf, just to go 2 minutes down the road to the store to grab a carton of milk. What kind of shit is that?? I'm not asking you to throw on sweatpants and look like Courtney Love in the middle of a 3 day heroin binge, but give me a fucking break already!
Understands men idiosyncrasies: The first time I meet a woman who understands that me being quiet for a 5 minute time span in no way means something is wrong, I will offer them my hand in marriage. Can't a motherfucker just be silent?!! Someone who understands that I don't have to like her co-worker "Chuck" because I'm pretty sure that he secretly wants to fuck you, so excuse me if we don't hang out and throw back a few beers. I would want a woman that knows that I have every right to be an absolute asshole to her friend, especially since she tried to hook her up with her "baby daddy's" homeboy a few months back. Lastly, I know for a fact that my throat-chopping days will come to an end when I get married, I would do what I could to keep my lovely wife out of harms way. But, I hope she will understand that after I drop her off from us hanging out, that I will return to the club we were previously at and quickly beat the living shit out of the dude who disrespected her and I earlier that night. Hey, some habits are hard to break.
Keeps me in check: You can ask some of the women that I have been with, I can be somewhat of a handful. But earlier on I realized that if I had the ideal woman that one of her traits would be her ability to not let me get away with shit. Not saying that I need a babysitter(unless you wanted to role play. hee-hee) , just a woman that isn't a pushover when it comes to my daily dose of constant bullshit. From my diatribes about the declining state of Hip Hop, hatred of Black conservatives, and Kobe Bryant apologizing, the woman who has the unfortunate task of being my life-mate will have to deal with a lot.(God bless her soul)I think what I need is a woman that can tell me how full of shit I am, and even tell my black ass to "Shut the fuck up" sometimes. I kind of like a demanding woman, not in a "I'm a dominatrix and I'm about to beat your ass with this leather whip" kind of way, but in a "I am woman hear me roar" kind of way. Now that shit is sexy.
(Post was inspired by me sleeping while this show was airing. Now I hope you enjoy my fictitious appearance on the show "
The other night started off like any other, I talked to my neighbors wife about the "neighborhood" as I tried to inconspicuously look at her tits, openly wondered why any black person would support 
Gambling: Jerry was a friend of mine that I used to hang with while I attended college. He was a dude that hadn't left his hometown of Little Rock Arkansas until he attended college in Virginia, so he was a bit green. Soon after his arrival I taught him how to play cards and before you know it we were frequenting every card game available in the city. I loved cards, but Jerry had an obsession with them, reading books and it quickly became the main topic of conversation whenever we hung out. He got to be good, better than me in fact, but he didn't know when to quit and that either left him dead broke, or left me having to fight dudes because they thought that Jerry cheated them. This one time he bet me that he could sleep with a particular young lady, and when he did in fact sleep with her he called me from her house and said, "I told you I'd fuck her, pay up bro!!" Crazy shit like that, and the numerous fights that I got into because of his bullshit I knew that I had to abandon this relationship because it was hazardous to my health. But because I was the one that started him gambling in the first place I thought I should be the one warn him about his destructive ways. I won't go into exactly what was said, but let's just say that if I had a dollar for the amount of times he said, "Fuck you!", I would be extremely wealthy. After that I would hear stories of him taking beatings, people looking for him, and the last straw was when I got a call from his sister saying that two big men in suits came to their parents house looking for Jerry.(I thought that shit only happened in the movies) After that I tried to reach Jerry and help him but he was too far gone, refusing my help whenever I offered it. 
Heroin: I realized at an early age that I would absolutely be a horrible husband. Granted, I would never cheat, I would treat my wife with love and affection, I would lose my porn collection(most of it), and I would keep my throat-chopping of black republicans to a minimum. I say that I would be a horrible husband because I am the last fucker on earth to notice any changes in a person, haircuts, new outfits, and type of shit like that. I went into that little spiel because it was also true of an old band-mate of mine named Nate that I had. He was a great guy, funny, and the best drummer that I have ever seen in my life. So it came as a surprise to me when another band-mate of mine named Glen called me and said, "HC, we need to have an intervention with Nate and get him into a rehab center." Me: Rehab center for what? (long pause) Glen: For what!!!! Are you shitting me?? For heroin you silly bastard! Me: Heroin? Naww? Seriously? Glen: You didn't find it strange that Glen would nod off mid-sentence, or fall asleep during shows? Me: I just thought he was real tired, or maybe narcoleptic Glen: Get the fuck out of here!! How about the tracks on his arm? That didn't seem weird to you? Me: Not really, he told me that he was a diabetic. Glen: With how he used to eat, you bought that bullshit?? You-are-an-asshole!
Cocaine: I had a lawyer friend named Steven that I used to hang out with to many swanky ass establishments around town. He was cool, he reminded me of Tom Cruise's character in "Jerry McGuire", a fast talking guy that was absolutely full of shit. During the brief tenure of our friendship we were living it up, hanging with these beautiful model chicks who looked like their main hobbies were looking pretty and vomiting. There is some truth in many stereotypes because most of those chicks dug cocaine, which I am against, but suddenly I become "for it" if it made any of those women inappropriately put their mouth on me. It threw me for a loop when I found out that Steven was also hooked on the "nose candy". The first time I saw him do it I told him that I wasn't cool with that and he assured me that he did it "once in a blue moon". But that "blue moon" shit was quickly debunked when I noticed that he always seemed hyper as fuck, and he snapped on me for no reason a couple of times to the point that I almost mauled that motherfucker. I guess the last straw is when he came to my house 4 in the morning, honking his horn 20+ times, dressed the fuck up, and when I angrily answered the door he said, "Why aren't you dressed? I thought we were going out?"(This jackass had lost all sense of time at that point) I had to let that friendship go at that point, so I grabbed a bat and said, "Get the fuck out of here before I pretend that I'm Barry Bonds with this motherfucker!!! Get some help man!" Recently I heard that he went to rehab and is living a clean lifestyle, which I am happy about. Maybe I shouldn't have threatened him with physical violence, because I sure do miss hanging with those model chicks who put their mouth on me under the influence of a drug that I hate.
Violence:(Very short entry) My band-mates, because of the many assholes that I have fought at our shows, have tried to sit me down and talk to me about my temper. They try to show me the error in my ways, but when I point out the specific reasons that I fought the men I did, they are left agreeing with me that the person's in question did indeed "deserve to catch a bad one." The topic is usually dropped and we move on to something else, until the next show that we have where I try to bury my shell-toe Adidas in the sternum of some load mouth asshole. I know that I have anger issues, that is why I have a therapist..i mean..a friend to talk to.
Like every blogger who writes things that are highly personal knows, or they will soon learn, there is a crossroad that you eventually find yourself in the middle of. I have always said, albeit to myself, that if people that I wrote about get offended then that's their problem, because whatever I write is exactly what I would tell them to their face. So far that has held up pretty well, ex-girlfriends have told me that I have portrayed them accurately, and friends that have been involved in some of the situations that I write about say that I tell the stories just liked they happened. The biggest obstacle, however, is when my dear mother began to read my exploits that I put down in blog form. Overall she finds it entertaining, but she is mostly shocked about how I hid my mischievous ways from her as a child. She asked me, which was very sweet, "Did I do a bad job raising you??" I smiled, gave her a hug, and said "You did an excellent job, I think I was born to be an ass.., I mean a doucheba.., Jerk." 
Scared Straight: For some reason, and I couldn't tell you why, my junior high would schedule a yearly field trip to Colonial Williamsburg. This place, for those who don't know, is where they have many plantations that are still around from that time period and they have "actors" who reenact the people of that time period.(The clothing, the colloquialism, the whole nine.) Well, it was obvious the first year that I went to this place that it wasn't for me. I quickly realized that this wasn't a place that I should be celebrating, primarily because, I don't know, WE WERE MOTHERFUCKING SLAVES THEN!! The first year I harassed the people who spoke to us, I would yell shit like "Where are all the black folks at!!", and I took it upon myself to take a 40 ounce piss on the steps of one of the plantations there. Not only that, the confederate flags that were surrounding me offended the fuck out of me.(Rant of the day: People who still carry those confederate flags around, and justify it by saying "But it's my heritage", Listen, because I say this because I want to save your life. To black people that miserable piece of cloth that I wouldn't wipe my ass with represents lynchings, slavery, and any other atrocity that you can think of. So if you find yourself being choked with said flag by a miscellaneous black person, just keep that in mind. Jackass.)
Count Crackula: The most memorable time that I cut school was when I was in High School and we all went to a girl named Christy's house. I was excited about going to Christy's house because she might as well been a pinata the way she was letting dudes "hit it", she always had a shitload of food in her fridge, and her mother was a crackhead. OK, I know the last part threw you off. It's not funny now, but back then we all found great amusement in the fact that Christy's mother was a crackhead, not because of her addiction, but because she had to be the thickest, most corn-fed crackhead ever known to man. I know Christy was embarrassed by this but I used to ask Christy, "Does your mother sprinkle the crack over her pork chops or some shit? I'm just asking because she can't be smoking it, she has thighs like Florence Griffith Joyner!!" But looking back I figure that her mom was a newbie in the crack smoking game because they still had all their furniture and the food was still in the fridge, or that they still HAD a fridge.
A few years ago I had a friend named David who was a Repo Driver. He would tell me, on a daily basis, how much his job sucked and how dangerous it was. I figured that it was somewhat dangerous, people getting their cars taken away can't be the most calming situation in the world, but I always figured that David was making it worse than it was in reality. So one day I went with him just to see if what he said was actually true. Within the first hour I realized that his job was no joke, as a gentleman whose truck David was about to toe away threatened to get the shotgun out of his car and shoot the both of us with it. That same night I fought a man who punched me in the face through the passenger side window, was called racial slurs by a woman with exactly three teeth in her mouth(I told her that she probably flosses with her arm and shit), and squared off and almost fought a man that was probably the same age of my grandfather if he was still alive. Two things came out of my mouth continuously that night. 1. When people would bitch about their vehicle being snatched I would say, "You should pay your fucking bills then! You fucking savage! and 2: "Fuck this, I couldn't do this job." These are a few jobs I couldn't do, inspired by my night hanging with David.
Police Officer: As much of a disdain as I have for all types of authority figures, and my run-ins with officers in the past, I have a respect for the legitimate men and women who serve their community and don't throw racism and harassment in their daily crime fighting routine. I mentioned before that I have a friend who is a police officer, well, the other day I wanted to go with him and document it for my blog.(I know, I should have learned my lesson from the David incident) I had a tape recorder, notepad, I was ready to do some old school reporting. About a half hour into it I had to put everything down, just amazed at all the shit that I had seen in a short time period. As we were on patrol, I also noticed that I could never be a police officer because I would absolutely abuse my authority. For example, if I arrested a gentleman that kept saying how much he could "Beat my ass", I could see taking his cuffs off and saying, "Lets go motherfucker, you and me!", beating his ass in his front lawn. Not only that, as a person who doesn't have a uniform I always found it irritating to chase somebody for blocks that I was trying to beat the brakes off of. I think that I would have a policy that any man that made me run more than two blocks would get the business end of my night stick for a few moments.
Porn Star: Besides the fact that I would provide America with a series of disappointing 2 minute porn videos, there are other reasons why I would be a lousy porn star. For one thing, I am a germaphobe, so even though the porn stars get tested regularly for STD's, that wouldn't be enough for me. Not only would I wear two condoms, I would probably wear rubber gloves and a surgical mask. I could even see myself scrubbing my sex partner with some wet wipes before we started having sex.(I don't know where her ass has been! What am I like guy number 50 this week, and it's only Tuesday and shit) Porn directors would hate me because mid scene I would scream shit like, "Cut! Cut! I am not putting my tongue in that particular orifice, primarily because not only have a few guys gotten to know that "hole" intimately a scene before, but you pulled so many beads out of there I thought I was back a mardi Gras. No thanks!"
Radio Personality: I feel that I could have my own show and come up with new and interesting skits on a daily basis. It would probably be fun, laughing with the co-stars of my show and taking calls from my loyal listeners. That wouldn't be the problem. The problem, being that 90% of the countries radio stations play non-stop bullshit, would be the music that I would be forced to play and the interviews that I would give. I mean, imagine if I was having a deep discussion about Hip Hop with a panel of guests, dissecting the intricacies of underground Hip Hop, and then I would be forced to say some shit like, "We will be right back, right after this new Mike Jones song!" How fucking foolish would I look, and feel for that matter. Let's say that my guest for the next day was, I don't know, the group "The Ying Yang Twins". I would spend the previous night doing research on them, coming up with a plethora of interesting questions to ask them. The next day, as they sat in front of me, I would begin the interview session: Me: So, when exactly did you..(shaking head, feeling light headed) Sorry guys, when exactly did you..(Stopped again, starts growling, displaying a nervous tick) OK, when did you guys..(asshole transformation complete) Exactly when did you guys start completely SUCKING ASS! You guys suck!! You are a disgrace to every man and women that ever held the microphone with pride, you fucking minstrel show! Ying Yang: Lets get the fuck out of here. Then I would proceed in taking the entire building hostage as I played Hip Hop from 1986-1993 for days on end, until Clear Channel got fed up and payed a sniper to take my black ass out.
Politician: Even though I publicly threw my hat in the political arena, urged on by Bill Clinton, I seriously could never be a politician. I just don't have the temperament for it. If Karl Rove or any type other political strategist tried to publicly smear an opponents family, that politician might come on a talk show and say how "dirty" the other side is. Not me, I can see going to a party in Washington where mostly politicians were in attendance. I see Karl Rove and I say, "Hey homey, can I talk to you for a minute?(moving quickly through the crowd) What did you say about my daughter again? Let's talk." Karl:(jogging away) What are you talking about? Someone call security. Security!! Then I would bring Karl down like a Pee-Wee football tackling drill, beating his ass in front of the likes of Jimmy Cater and Nelson Mandela. It wouldn't be pretty.
1. Rakim: The greatest M.C to ever hold a Mic, hands down. A lyricist who was truly ahead of his time, if you don't believe me just play 'Paid In Full'. Any of his early recordings stand the test of time, holding ground with any modern M.C you can name. Vivid Imagery, metaphors, versatile delivery, and all around dictionary-like command of the English language makes this individual my personal favorite. "The ghetto", "Mahogany", and "Paid in Full", and "Microphone Fiend" are four very different songs that display the range of Rakim. The Greatest of All Time.
2. KRS-One: You have to love a man that says, "I am Hip Hop". His blend of consciousness and raw lyricism has been evident from day one. The hardest thing in music to do is be entertaining and teach at the same time. People call him arrogant, but I think that if you truly think you are the best then arrogance is needed. His love for Hip Hop culture has kept him in the game for nearly 20 years. "Criminal Minded", "My Philosophy", "I'm Still #1", how he single handedly took out the Juice Crew, threw P.M Dawn off a stage, or made Nelly his bitch, the man is an Icon.
3.Big Daddy Kane: One of the first M.C's to incorporate the "player" persona and at the same time stressing the importance of lyricism. I remember when my cousin's came down from New York in August of 88' and they gave me Big Daddy Kane's first album. That was one of the best birthday presents I ever had.. His arsenal of rhyme styles from a smooth delivery to a rapid flow captivated a then 15 year old kid. Matter of fact, it still captivates a now 31 year old man.
4. Nas: I knew that he was a great M.C when I heard his verse on Main Sources "Live from the barbecue", just him saying "..kidnap the President's wife without a plan.." or "..when I was 12, I went to hell for snuffing Jesus..", get me giddy as a school girl. Illmatic is one of my favorite albums, and has to be the best debut album of any rapper ever. In a time when lyrical content seems to be irrelevant, the man continues to push the envelope and display his wide ranging lyrical strengths. I admit that his career took a wrong turn(see duet with Ginuine), but it seems that it got back on track again when Jay Z made the disastrous decision to challenge the Queensbridge M.C.
5. Kool G Rap: If you hear some of his earlier songs, he should be credited for some of the first "gangsta rap" recordings. Brilliant lyricist, with a aggressive delivery mixed with his ability to inject the vivid images of street life. With his trademark lisp, I personally feel he had the best verse on "The Symphony". As a person that is against the "bitch and hoe" content of many of the "artists" of today, or the clumsy way they tackle strong sexual content in Hip Hop, can't resist the imaginative ways he approaches those topics.
6. Slick Rick: A truly underrated lyricist, coming to us by way of England. I fell in love with "Ladi-Dadi" as soon as I heard it and it is probably the first song that I learned verbatim. Smooth delivery, with a vast vocabulary that he utilizes through his storytelling abilities. 'Treat em' like a prostitute' is one of my personal favorites, but reading my blog you could probably guess why..
7. Notorious B.I.G: Death can certainly make someone a martyr, and inflate their importance in music. Even though I think this has happened to B.I.G in some respects(especially Tupac), there is no denying the lyrical ability of this Brooklyn M.C. The first song that I heard from him happens to be my favorite, "Party and Bullshit". Awesome flow, skillful metaphor use and wordplay will keep him relevant in Hip Hop for years to come. I wasn't into the "shiny suit" era that Puffy tried to force upon us, but Biggie's lyrics make me forget about that, somewhat.
8.Chuck D: "It takes a Nation of Millions.." is by far my favorite album of all time. Chuck D is partly responsible for my current political awareness, so when I go on long diatribes about the evil that is the "black republican", you have him to blame. Like I said about KRS-One, to be able to be musically relevant and have a message at the same time is not only difficult but it takes balls. I heard a quote form Chuck D one time where he said, "I knew that we had something when women hated our music", I love that quote. Any man that calls out Elvis, the president, and talks about kidnapping the mayor of Arizona for not recognizing Martin Luther Kings birthday get my complete support.
9. Ice Cube (Circa 1992): I was a fan of Ice Cube when he was in N.W.A, but when he went solo he emerged into a deadly M.C. The Bomb Squad produced 'Amerikkka's Most Wanted' was a dazzling debut of street life and hardcore beats. My favorite Ice Cube album is 'Death Certificate", where he dealt with topics like the failing health care system, selling out, dissing his old band-mates N.W.A, the military, and venereal diseases. Yeah he fell off, and his contribution to the West Side Connection is forgettable, but his works of the early 90's are legendary.
10.LL. Cool J: Like his recent work or not, but the man was considered a legend at the age of 25. The first artist signed to Def Jam, he has proved to be the Hip Hop version of Madonna, successfully changing with the times and staying commercially relevant. I know that this choice is pretty controversial, but anyone who disses an outgoing president(Bush 1) while freestyling at a presidential inauguration(Clinton), definitely gets my motherfucking vote! He has defeated Kool Moe Dee, Ice Tee, and Cannibus, proving that he is a battle tested M.C. With 10 albums under his belt, he is the poster boy for longevity.
One thing that women absolutely loathe but men cherish like a child awaiting Christmas, is the time honored tradition of the Bachelor Party. What better way for a man to welcome the married life than a shitload of booze, scantily clad or butt naked women, surrounded by about a dozen of his closest, most belligerent friends. Like a secret organizations, there are a few unwritten rules such as having a shitload of booze, the right "entertainment", having decent food, and never let the brides father or brother attend, they will snitch faster than Kobe in Colorado. Here are a few examples of bachelor parties that I have gone to.
Chris' Bachelor Party: Chris had just moved to Va from England, so I was like his only friend in the whole state, fuck it, the whole country. We hung out a lot, went to ball games, and I was cool with his fiancee and everything. So when Chris told me that he was getting married I just had to throw him a bachelor party, American style. I rented out a huge space, ordered enough liquor to make Courtney Love say "That's alot of booze", and rounded up some local strippers of note to make Chris' bachelor party a night to remember. Things started to go wrong when the strippers that I hired all of a sudden demanded more money. We had agreed on a price, I paid it, now they were going back on the deal and asking for more.(note to self, never pay the full price up front) I officially thought I was fucked as I was on the phone with a stripper that called herself "Destiny", trying to be the voice of reason. It looked bad until I remembered that my mother once told me that "when I get mad, I sound like a pimp".(How in the fuck does my mother know what a pimp sounds like?? Let me stop pondering that question immediately.) So, over the phone, I ranted and raved saying "You don't know who your fucking with!!" and "I know where you trollop's work at", true asshole shit that I thought wouldn't work. Apparently "Destiny" was accustomed to the fine art of "Pimpery" because she immediately said, "OK Daddy, we will be there, it's no problem." When I hung up the phone I said to myself, "Shit, I think I missed my calling!" The night of the party everything is running smoothly, all of Chris' co-workers were there, the booze was straight, food, everything looked fine. That was until the strippers came out. I guess Chris, a Caucasian male, forgot to tell his co-workers that he had a thing for black women, because when they came out looking like 100% ebony sex, you could have kicked a field goal in the mouths of the gentlemen in attendance.
Derek's Bachelor Party: I feel bad about Derek's bachelor party because I was the main reason why it was ruined. His party was within the same time span that my father died and my girlfriend of 5 years had dumped me for a guy who was a bum, actually calling him a panhandler is probably too generous. Anyway, I wasn't in the best state of mine but I wanted to help Derek in any way possible when it came to his pre-marriage titty fest. I offered my services, my ability to get quality liquor for cheap, the ability to get fine women of ill repute without going bankrupt, the ability to rent out quality spaces for bargain prices.(Shit, I feel like a superhero, "Able to leap two titty bars with a single bound). But Derek's brother, who is a bona fide douche-bag by the way, brushed away my offer by saying, "I got this, I have been doing this for years!!" So his stupid ass was solely responsible for setting everything up. I actually wished him well as I envisioned scantily clad Beyonce-esque women climbing all on me, lying to me by saying shit like, "Wow, you sure are handsome! Do you model?" In the same vision, I place my index finger over her mouth and say, "Shhh, you ruin it by talking!!"(Even in my fantasies I am an asshole.) Anyway, I get to the party and I notice a few things that have gone wrong already. 1.The Father and the Brother of the bride are there.(Ladies, if I decide to marry one of you in the future, your raggedy ass daddy and brother aren't coming! I don't care how "cool" they are, at the end of the day those fuckers are worse than the feds.) 2:The spot that was rented was ghetto and dingy as shit. 3. There was hardly any alcohol there and 4: The food consisted of chips and other foods of the horseshit variety. OK, maybe most of the money was spent on the "entertainment", lets see how the girls look.
I went out the other night to some fancy-smancy club that I felt highly uncomfortable at. As I looked at all the people who thought that their shit didn't stink, I stood around and conversed with my friends as I stared at an empty dance-floor. The club was packed but no one was dancing, did Goodie Mob have it right when they said "They don't dance no more"? As soon as I thought about how sad it was that people didn't dance anymore, a young lady approached and asks me to dance. To be honest, even though I was asking myself why people didn't cut a rug like they used to, I really didn't feel like dancing. Did this new culture of "I'm too fucking cool to sweat" infect the cerebellum of the HumanityCritic as well?? I decided to dance with the young lady for a few reasons. 1: Because I hadn't danced in a long time. 2: The young lady in question looked like a young Pam Grier, and lord knows what kind of blacksploitation type role playing I might be able to get her to do in the future and 3. I haven't been asked to dance since the fucking Clinton administration. She grabbed my hand and dragged me to the dance floor where we started dancing. "Feet don't fail me now!" I thought, as I wondered if they even worked any more. I started doing the classic "2 step" which is what everyone pulls out of their bag to buy time until they can pull some real funky steps out of their arsenal. She immediately starts grinding on me when I started to immediately "Pitch a tent", "OK, I'm glad that still works", I thought as I try to be subtle about "adjusting" myself. Then I busted out a barrage of oldie but goodies that not only made the woman in her early 20's laugh, but exposed my age for anyone within a 100 foot radius. It just got me thinking to the various dance-steps throughout my life.
The 70's- When I was a kid I just remember just jumping around like I was having a seizure, delighting my parents because of how foolish I looked. Specific dance-steps of this time period escape me, except for "The Bump" where while dancing you touch asses to the beat. I remember doing this dance with one of my parents' friends when she propelled me into a table where the table broke into a million pieces. She said something like, "I guess I don't know my own strength", you know you have a humongous derriere when you propel toddlers in a single bound. But this time period is special because I recall waking up on various Saturday mornings to the sounds of Marvin Gaye, Otis Redding, Donny Hathaway, Stevie Wonder, and a plethora of other soulful masters as I went downstairs and danced with my parents. My parents didn't have the best relationship, but at a early age I realized that music, albeit momentarily, could bring people together.
The 80's- The first dance that I recall learning was "The Robot", which I was good at, but kids would clown me because that's all I would do. I even remember this girl named Brandy saying, "Here comes HumanityCritic, watch him do the robot the whole time!" She was probably jealous of how well I imatated a robot, even making robit-like sounds. (Maybe not)That's when I realized that I had to step my dance game up, then break-dancing hit the scene. I always will love and respect that art of the legendary "B-boy", but to be totally honest I was the worst break-dancer imaginable. I mean, I could pop my ass off, do the snake, the worm, but my groundwork(i.e Spinning on my back, doing the flare) was atrocious. My best break-dance move was when I would pop, bring it down where I would expose my stomach and roll my stomach downwards, then bring it to my legs then bring it back up. That move was awesome, the first thousand times I did it, but people quickly tired of my "signature move". This is embarrassing, but I even called myself the "Camouflage kid", where I would go to various dance contests wearing camouflage. I remember my boy getting all philosophical on me one day by saying, "Isn't being called that limiting, being that that's all you can wear? I mean, people would openly wonder if you even washed your clothes man!" Me, never lacking the witty comeback or clever diatribe, answered back by saying, "Fuck you Kenny!!"
The 90's- I remember, if I am correct, the dance "The Running Man" becoming popular in the early 90's. I have to tell you, nothing ruined more potential ass for me than doing this particular dance. It wasn't that I was bad at it, actually I was quite good at it, but this is a dance that you could only pull out sporadically. I couldn't tell you how many girls that thought I was an absolute "Spaz" when I would be doing "The Running Man" with the aggression of a serial killer, as she dance calmly to a mid-tempo song. Even though I would constantly get those "calm your black ass down" looks, I didn't care, I was on a mission, a dance mission if you will. That "mission" usually resulted in me going home alone and getting friendly with a bottle of lotion and whatever filth I had at the time.
2000-Present: Being that I despise most Hip Hop that comes out now, and all the ghetto dances that accompany it, I find myself just doing the old man "2 step", you can't go wrong with that. When I feel nostalgic, I will break out with "The Wop", start popping, do "The cabbage patch", or even do "The prep". I don't do those dances to teach the younger generation an integral part of Hip Hop history, or enlighten them to a more legitimate era in Hip Hop. I do those dances because I sincerely don't give a fuck. That simple.