When it comes to my family, my therapist, and some of my close friends, an ever running motif coming from them is the phrase ,"Just let it go man", in my direction. Don't get it wrong now, if you are a friend of mine or part of my family I find it easy to let things go because of my love and respect for them. But anyone else, if they spite me in any way, I have always found it difficult to let things slide, even as a kid. I have found myself being the bigger man and walking away from an asshole who talked shit one time, only to see him a week later, mumbling to myself, "I hope that motherfucker doesn't take my kindness for a weakness. I should go over there and punch him in his face just on General Principle." Yeah, it's that bad. But recently I've discovered that "Letting shit go" isn't only exclusive to someone being disrespectful to me, sometimes its hard to let go of some embarrassing situation that I put myself in the middle of. Here are a few examples.
Watch what you say: A few months ago I wrote about a day that I had in court, and the guy who I was summoned to court with named Brian.(I said then, and I still mean it, that I want to desperately penetrate his girlfriend in the worst way.) Anyway, a few weeks ago I am with a group of guys celebrating a friend of mines divorce from a woman, that I affectionately named, "Satan". While I am there I become so drunk that I start break-dancing on the dance floor, mistakenly tell a friend of mine that I slept with his sister once, and a few other things that are now a blur to me. One thing I do remember is seeing Brian, and his girlfriend that he has no business being with. The next day I recall speaking to them, I just forgot what we talked about exactly. "I hope I didn't say some foul shit to them" I thought, hoping that the alcohol that I had ingested didn't alter my decision making skills. The other day I see them at a pool hall that my friend Danny and are are at, so I decide to go up to them and speak. By the smile on his face as I approached them, I knew that I didn't say any foul shit to them a few weeks earlier, but I figured I would still find out just to be sure. I gave him a handshake, said whats up, and said laughing, "Damn man, the last time I saw you I was fucked up, hope I didn't say any foul shit to you." This motherfucker, I guess because his girl was standing right beside him said, "No homey you didn't, plus you know better anyway because I would have handled you." I was in a weird predicament, because we are supposed to be cool, so I just let out a nervous giggle and walked back to my pool table. The next few minutes his comments grow inside me with bad intentions, like a cancerous tumor, thinking about how he tried to play me in front of his girl. Danny, my dear friend said, "Just let it go man!", a phrase I have heard too often. It got to the point that I went over to his table and asked him, "What exactly do you mean when you say that you would have "handled me", huh?" As he gave me a strong look, like he was about to say some slick shit, I bent over and whispered in his ear, "If I was you I would chose my words wisely and economically, you wouldn't want me to break your fucking jaw in front of your girl and all." His posture changed, and said "Naw dude, I was just fucking with you" and gave me a pound. I gave him a "whatever you say motherfucker" look and walked back to my table. Danny, always the one to break the tension with a silly retort said, "Gee HumanityCritic, what a great way to break the "angry black man" stereotype".
Next Door Neighbor: I have been trying my hardest to mend the tension between myself and my next door neighbors. Yes they are a pain in the ass, yes they constantly cut 4-5 lines into my property, yes the wife's hairstyling salon in their garage is a goddamn nuisance, but I thought I would play nice despite that. The husband and myself have chatted a few times recently, we got back on the right foot I guess you can say. That was until the day I drove by his house and waived to him out of my car window. This motherfucker gave me a uber fast hand waive as to signify he was saying "Whatever motherfucker, beat it!" I figured maybe he was having a bad day, I wasn't getting mad yet. Later on that day I went to run some errands, came back and waived at him once again to see what he would do. This jackass did the exact same thing, only this time with more of a disgusted attitude. "That motherfucker is lucky that I don't go over there and beat him over the head with his daughters wagon!" I thought, fuming at the disrespect. The next week or so was spent feeling disrespected in the worst way, thinking spiteful shit like the 32 year old baby that I am. The other day when he approached me I gave him a "What in the fuck do you want" look on my face. I was pretty embarrassed when he said, "Sorry that I was quick with you the other day, I was in a argument with my hateful, bitter ass mother-in-law. My fault man." In a supreme act of hypocrisy, I shook his hand and said, "Man, I didn't even notice. It's OK." I am shameful.
Childhood Bully: When I was a kid, maybe 6 or 7, there was a kid that tormented me named Tyrone. He must have been 15 or so at the time, and he was extremely cruel to me, smacking me in the face and making my life a complete nightmare. Come to think about it, I honestly feel that Tyrone was the last person who I was physically afraid of. As time moved on he moved out of my neighborhood, and by the time I learned how to fight back Tyrone's whereabouts were unknown. But I have always remembered how he made me feel, and I had like a "Kung-fu movie" vow to beat his natural black ass if we ever crossed paths again. Well, we crossed paths a few months ago. I have a friend who is a real estate agent who invited me to a party she was throwing with some other people in her field.(Let me tell you, real estate agents really know how to party) Anyway, one of the guys she works with is named Tyrone who turns out to be a really nice guy. As we are chatting it up, and we figure out that we lived in the same neighborhood at the same time, I finally realize that this is the motherfucker who beat my ass as a kid. This was the imbecile who I had been thinking about all my life, the guy that I have been on a sort of a David Carradine "Kung-fu-walking the earth" type of quest trying to find. When I asked him if he remembered me, he didn't. I pressed him if he remembered bullying me, again he had no recollection. I so wanted him to be an asshole so I could lay his ass out, lay his ass out for the adult I am who has anger issues and just wanted to hit an asshole, and hit him for that scared 7 year old who was terrified on a daily basis because of his bullying tactics. But the guy was so nice and kind, my pugilistic fantasies would not see the light of day. I secretly hope I see him again and he says some slick shit, but that's just me. I know, "Just let it go man", I agree.
A Tale of 2 Blog Trolls: I was telling Brother Omi the other day that the thing I hate about the Internet is the anonymity, not being about to kick someone in the mouth when they say some dumb shit to you is rather frustrating. The first blog troll has been drinking 40 0z's of "Haterade" from day one, telling people not to comment on my blog,(some actually did stop by the way), telling other bloggers that I know some foul shit about yours truly, a whole bunch of shit. The only reason that I didn't call this bastard out was because I never had any concrete evidence, so if I called him out he could just throw up his arms and say, "Huh? What are you talking about?", then I look like the asshole. I know that it is only the Internet, and I should have really let this one go, but I actually considered the following devious plot: Plot: Befriend said troll for X amount of time./ Get them to thinking that you are buddies and all, make it seem real./ Try to get them to attend one of the "blogger meet-ups"/ Go to said meet up, and, Beat-the-black-off-his ass/end of plot/ I know, it seems childish, that's why I didn't go through with it.Let me tell you, I thank all of you who voted for me last month, I sincerly appreciate it. That being said, I'm not rich from it or think highly of myself, but the hate I have gotten the last month is amazing let me tell you. The next Troll was a person who had issues with my commenting practices, she tried to convey that I only commented on people's blogs just to garner votes for the blackweblogawards. I didn't really understand that misguided ideology because even if that were the case, the person in question would still have to like what they read in order to vote, fucking dumbass. So the other day I went to the blogroll of the blackweblogawards and she was one of the nominees, so her "hatred" was indeed orchestrated and a bit of sour grapes I guess. I was going to call her ass out, but then I didn't want to give her blog any publicity(Who wants to read about vagina rashes anyway?) But who knows, I might try to befriend her and invite her to a meet-up, I am sure my girl Suzy would be willing to knock her ass out. I'm kidding, I'm kidding!! I know I need to let shit go, geez!! I would just let Suzy tap that jaw a bit, not knock her out, then I would pour beer on her. But that's it, I promise! I know, "Just let it go man", I know.
Believe it or not, I have no problem admitting when I'm wrong. When my ex-girlfriend played a then Unknown sample tape in my car of a new artist named "Eminem", I went into immediate "hate" mode because the impression of white rapers that Vanilla Ice had imprinted on my misguided brain. After hearing a few bars of the Michigan MC, I had to turn my frown upside down and admit that the rapper in question had undeniable skill. My bad. When a friend of mine suggested that I see the Rockafella produced "Paid in Full" I openly scoffed, telling them that any bastard that put out a monstrosity like "State Property" can never make a decent movie. When I saw it I was surprised, it was a pretty decent flick. My bad. So when I heard that The Source magazine had given Lil Kim's new album, "Naked Truth" 5 mics I knew that either it was a typo, or Lil Kim must have given that reviewer one hell of a hummer.(..and I don't mean the vehicle either)
It seems that Rosario forgot about my innocent obsession with her that she described as "scary as fuck", disregarded that silly "restraining order" and decided to take my advice from my letter that a friend described as "stalkerish" and 
I don't know about any of you out there, but I have the horrible habit of falling asleep with the television blasting. Granted, I fall asleep faster when it is on because of the fact that I find noise comforting, but there are definitely negatives to leaving the T.V on when you travel to dream land. Like this one time I fell asleep watching a profile of a serial killer, I had a dream where that crazy motherfucker was chasing me around my city with a machete, I almost wet myself. This other time I guess I had dozed off watching "The Crocodile Hunter", but in my dream I just ran and screamed like a woman in a horror flick as the host shook his head in shame. The following post is a fictitious take on what it would be like to live beside a television family, based on the time I fell asleep watching "Married with Children"
The Cosby's: The family that I moved next to is pretty nice, I think the wife is a lawyer and the husband is a Doctor or some shit. All of the kids seem nice, but I have had my eye on that Denise for a while now. I know she is only in High School and all, but she looks like a bona fide freak! I almost got with her too, but for some reason she ran out of the room when I put on some Lenny Kravitz for "mood music", she is indeed a strange one. Whenever we are chatting it up on my stoop her father quickly comes and drags her ass in the house and mumbles something incoherent under his breath. Yeah, ever since he caught me smoking week in my car outside the crib he has been damn near unbearable, yelling at Theo to bring his "ignorant ass in the house" when we are throwing the football around. Dr. Cosby is a good brother and all, but he called himself giving me a lecture about "responsibility" the other day and when I mentioned that I had went to a speech about that same topic by Michael Eric Dyson he damn near lost his mind.(What's his problem anyway?) Besides that they are pretty cool neighbors, nothing really strange there, except for the fact that every time they have me over all they serve is Jello fucking pudding.
The Bundy's: Al has to be the coolest guy ever, shit, he is my partner when we go to strip clubs and harass the local women of ill repute. The problem with hanging with Al is that he is always broke, and because of his dead end profession he always smells like feet. His family is alright, Bud is my weed hook-up so I obviously don't have any problems with him but Kelly is another story. I warned my boys about Kelly's "promiscuity", but they ignored me and had sex with her anyways. Now they all have a purple and blue rashes, and even the best doctors in the country don't know what the fuck it is. Al's wife Peg is cool, but she keeps pinching my ass in front of Al and calling me her "favorite chocolate blogger".(The weirder thing is that Al gave me permission to "Hit that", as he so succinctly put it) Overall I have no major complaints about The Bundy's, even though I found it quite disturbing when I found them going through my trash for food last week.
The Ingles: What are these fuckers, Amish or something?? They don't own any cars, they have a small animal farm in their back yard, and the father of the family looks like the guy who starred in the T.V series 'Highway to Heaven" and shit. They are nice enough, but if I hear the question "What are those long black strings hanging from your scalp my negro friend?" I think I'm going to snap. I have told them that they need to get a car for better transportation, but those fuckers insist on going everywhere with a horse and carriage. Which leaves another problem because they have my yard littered with tons of horseshit, which I may add is a terrible scent when you have a lady over. Now that Mr. Ingalls' daughters are getting older, I think its time for them to ditch those long ass dresses and start wearing some skirts, or something more revealing. When I suggest this to the young women they seemed interested, but when their father got wind of my devilish plan he gathered up a witch hunt and had about 30 people outside my house holding torches. I think it's time for their ass to move.
The Adams Family: Maybe I was drunk, or smoked a bad batch of weed or something, but I could have sworn that I saw a human hand crawl inside their house last night. That family scares the shit out of me, and there are good reasons behind that. For one thing all they wear is black, in the winter or summer, black. When Gomez was working on his monstrosity of an automobile this summer, in 95 degree heat he had the nerve to turn to me and say, "Whew, it sure is hot out here, isn't it HumanityCritic?" He didn't like it when I responded, "I guess so, wearing a long black trench coat and black gloves in the dead of summer tends to make it feel that way!!" His wife, Morticia, is a hot piece of "evil ass" if I do say so myself. I always wanted to try to take her away from Gomez, but I thought against it when I saw that Gomez had a collection of heads on his wall from men who tried to "pick up" Morticia.(I'm not stupid) But I must admit, Morticia has a string of freaky goth friends that I have run through since they have lived in my neighborhood. The kids are cool, Pugsly is a nice boy, but Wednesday is one smart little girl though. Her little ass somehow created a monster marijuana crop that not only grew in a day or so, but it is also undetectable from any type of urine test. There is a catch though, she wants 60% of my profits. Shit!
Dear Buddy, 
I'm not even go to lie to you, I absolutely thought I would dread watching vh1's "Hip Hop Honors" last night. It wasn't because it was cutting into my masturbation time, it was because vh1 tends to drop the ball when it comes to Hip Hop.(Actually, everyone seems to drop the ball) You think I'm being too harsh, OK, what do you think about Puff Daddy being listed ahead of greats like Rakim, Nas, KRS one and De la soul on the "Top 50 Hip Hop acts of all time" list? Yep, that's what I thought, fucking blasphemous! 
(Scene starts with HumanityCritic having many drinks with Howard Dean in a Strip Club somewhere in Virginia Beach. Both, completely shitfaced)
Last week when my therapist told me that I should stay away from violent activities I thought she was talking about not fighting or threatening anyone, not one of my favorite Sunday past-times.(I was hoping she wasn't talking about masturbation. It's not really violent but then again you have never seen me..Oh forget it) At first I nodded in agreement because it seemed like a task which was the easiest one she has asked me so far, but something told me to ask about her about football. When I hinted about Football she asked, "Do you tackle anyone?? Do you try to inflict pain on your opponent in any way, shape, or form? When I replied "yes" she said, "Then the answer would be "NO"! I tried to explain to her that Football should be an exception in this case because it is the best way for me to start off a week, and the greater good that it does to my well being. When she asked me to explain I said, "It's like if you were married and a very attractive woman makes sexual advances towards you while you are in Las Vegas with your boys." "Uh huh" my therapist said, "Go on". "Well, of course you don't have sex with the woman but you go back to your hotel room and beat off like it was an Olympic event, then that feeling of momentary naughtiness goes away. That is what football does to me, I can exercise my temper demons and be pretty well mannered the whole week." She paused, as to really think about what I just stated, and said "You almost had me there, I still don't think you should play any type of contact sport for a while ,but tell me a few memorable moments while playing football" This is what I told her, which was actually a mistake now that I think about it.
Desperate Football Wives: Whenever we play football my best friend Danny is usually on my team because he is my main boy and he has a cannon of an arm. It's weird, for a guy who never played organized sports in his life, and hated sports when we were kids, he really missed his calling because the kid can throw. Anyway, we usually play football against different groups of guys each week, it's either some of Danny's co workers, some dudes that I know, it all depends. This one week we were playing with gentlemen that had to be in their mid-40's, they were cool and all but they started making rules to where you "could" and "couldn't" tackle them. Usually I would loathe any rules like this, but since they seemed like nice guys I agreed, even saying, "I have bad knees from playing football so I would prefer no "chop-blocks". Even though right when I said that some of the guys gave me a devilish grin, I didn't think much about it at the time and was ready to throw around the pigskin a bit. After we returned the ball after the kickoff, the first play was for me, so Danny hands the ball off to me and I run 4 yards then "Bam". Not only was I tackled which wasn't a surprise, but I looked at the tackler and said "Motherfucker you chop-blocked me!" As he grinned I realized that the whole "telling people your injuries" bit was designed for my stupid ass to find out my weakness.
Some Bruce Lee Shit: This one Sunday was one to remember, because I almost got my ass handed to me quicker than someone having breakfast with Jeffrey Dahmer. The team that was supposed to play ours didn't show up, so we were forced to play with some strangers who were in the park before we got there. They seemed pretty cool, so we started to play my favorite past-time outside of masturbation and throat-chopping black republicans. The funny thing about this game, from what I remember, is that 85% of it went pretty conflict free. But around the last 5 minutes, primarily because they were up 20 points, the other team started talking shit, relentlessly. Besides that, after I was tackled a few times the person who tackled me would shove my head down before they got off of me. I warned them, even saying "You guys seem like cool young cats, shove my head down again and we are going to have problems." 
Suzy, my hero:(picture obviously not Suzy) A year ago we were playing against some guys from my friend Mike's job, and apparently my reputation preceded me. I kept getting hints from Mike that the guys from his job "had something for me". I didn't think much about it and blew it off as just macho shit talking. Sunday comes around, I meet the other guys, nothing seemed that abnormal. Thats until I noticed that they had a girl on their team, I'm all for women's rights and everything but I didn't want to hurt her. When I decided to express my concerns the lady in question said, loudly, "Shut the fuck up Pussy, I'm probably more of a man than you!" which got laughs from everyone within earshot. I quickly said, "By the stubble on your face I don't really doubt that that much." We started playing and I must admit that I still found it hard to tackle her, that was until she tackled the shit out of me. When she tackled me I looked at her, her immediate need to get a electrolysis appointment, and her shoulders as broad as Jim Brown's in his prime I immediately wanted to question her sexuality, but that would be homophobic. But I had no qualms questioning her original gender, saying "You had to be born a man, because I suddenly feel so gentle and delicate in your arms and shit"
I get emails all the time where people ask me if I have any advice for someone starting a blog. I always answer them with a, "just do what's in your heart" response, which is sincere on my part but also somewhat bland and probably not very useful. So I decided, since I have been blogging for exactly a year now, that I would provide new bloggers with some helpful advice concerning your blog and what you might encounter over the following year. Hope this helps.
1. Write for yourself: Over the past year, being that I can be somewhat crude and ultra-violent, I am surprised that any of you ready my daily drivel at all, but I am thankful and sincerely greatful. When people first started reading my blog I made the deadly mistake, one that I hope none of you make, of writing for other people. When I found myself doing that, the blog got extremely wack(It might be wack to some of you now) and it felt like work. Now I do it for 2 reasons. 1: Because it is cathartic and I really think that it has stopped me from having the bodies of some random black republican in my freezer. and 2: To get some prime choice, USDA, Internet booty. OK, #2 hasn't actually panned out yet but did I mention how cathartic it is?
2: If you get political, Watch out: If you get political, or think like I do that George W. Bush has the I.Q of a soiled diaper, be prepared for his apologists to come out of the woodwork and attack you.(But it will increase your readership though, I suggest you try it.) I had one asshole dedicate a entire blog just to "debunk me", I had one jackass create the ultra intelligent "HumanityCritic eats cock", and not to mention the numerous death threats that I got during election time. But for the most part cowardly individuals will post anonymously, not wanting to post under their own name and expose their horseshit blog, and talk just talk shit. But I never really saw the rationale of posting on someones blog that you don't agree with politically, it's not like your 3 sentence comment will change their lifelong political perspective.
3: Beware of "Biters": When I say "biters" I don't mean women who lack the ability to give a proper "mouth hug" either. Biters:(hip hop slang) Some bastardly individual, who takes it upon themselves to copy concepts from you, or just lift entire pieces from you verbatim and act like the material is theirs. Over the past few months I encountered two individuals who had taken entire blog posts of mine and tried to pass it off as their work. (Usually, if you bitch to their blog host about it they will have their nonsense erased immediately.) Some people are less abrasive about it, you begin to see certain concepts and stylistic choices that you use that begin to be used as well. But most of the time it is hard to say someone is "biting", because we all have the same experiences and I always put that in the "Great minds think alike" category. But if someone simplys says, "I got this idea from HC" that is more than OK.
4: Monday Morning Quarterback: Feedback is always good, unless it is after sex and your lover is telling you that your lovemaking is similar to a visit to the dentists office. But for the most part I am open to constructive criticism when it comes to my blog, but at the same time you have to take it with a grain of salt as well. A friend of mine recently said, "I don't really like the direction your blog is going! You seem to be "swinging from your own sack" since you won those awards and it seems angrier." Wow, "swinging from my own sack"?(If I had the ability to "swing from my own sack" my black ass wouldn't leave the house and shit.) Well, first let me say that the person in question is a ex girlfriend who might have a agenda of hate, based on my lackluster boyfriend skills, so the source must be considered first. Secondly, I don't really get the "more angrier" angle because of the constant throat-chop references, and the angry black man rants that I constantly go on. My blog is an extension of me, so if it's angry its because I'm angry, if it more political then it's because I'm getting more political, and if its more sexual it's because it is my feeble attempt to beg for sex from any woman that finds a single 32 year old skateboarding black guy attractive. 
5.Misinterpreted Work: People are complex beings, so I can see how someones writing can me misinterpreted. But be prepared, especially when you think that you are being absolutely straightforward about something, because people entirely get the wrong impression a great deal of time. You could have an entire post about "How horrible domestic abuse is", along with a few anecdotal stories and links to help hot-lines for women and whatnot. It never fails, after that post you will have someone say, "It's fucked up that you condone beating women HumanityCritic, I thought you were different!!" What the fuck??!! I also have noticed that if you have a post about "religion" or "god", people will get the wrong impression to the point that you openly wonder if they read the piece at all. For example: I had a post where I talked about feeling funny about taking advice from people who had recently "found god", because they were so foul in their previous life. In that post I talked about how it was good that they changed their life, but thinking about a woman who used to give "mouth hugs" for money for a two year time span now giving me advice on my "loose ways" was kind of troubling. Their would always people who would comment, "Damn HC, people can't change??!!" Jesus..
6: Want privacy? Get a fucking Diary!: I know that many people, because of co-workers and such, have had to stop blogging because of some things that were discovered on said blog. Some of those situations I can sympathize with, I really can. But seriously, If you want privacy then get a diary, don't have your silly ass on the Internet where any random asshole in front of a computer screen can see your innermost thoughts. My only rule is that I don't say anything about someone that I wouldn't say to their face, which means that I have the luxury to talk about whoever I like since I am more of an asshole than Kanye West. People, whether it is family members or friends have confronted me about what I have written on my blog, but I quickly put them at ease when I say, "Don't I say those things to your face though, and did that actually happen like that?" They usually nod in agreement and keep it moving. Granted, I try not to be malicious about the people I love and care about, but if some guy that I beat up in a bar is offended because the vivid imagery I used to describe that monstrous ass whipping I put him through, then that's his problem.(How would he find my blog anyway?)
Like I have stated before, I have some pretty fucking abysmal driving habits. I mean, I follow the DMV handbook and everything, but there are other idiosyncrasies that I have while I am behind the wheel of an automobile that drive my loved ones crazy. Besides me screaming "Hurry the fuck up" when some person in front of me doesn't immediately go at a green light, me getting out of my car and yelling "Do you want me to cram that horn up your ass??" at the car in back of me who wanted to use his/her horn like they had lost their fucking mind isn't a great thing either. My family and friends know that I have road rage issues, I even have issues with wack Cd's as I throw them out of my car the same was a ninja throws a "throwing star", but it is about time that I call all my critics out because their ass can't drive either. A person knows that they can drive if people feel comfortable sleeping while they are behind the wheel, and the people who I am about to "out" don't have that particular talent.
My mother: I love my mother dearly and she is definitely a decent driver, very careful, careful to a fault come to think about it. For one thing, she needs like 2 miles of open space in order to find it feasible to turn into flowing traffic. Most people, when approaching a green light would proceed like normal, just going through it as effortless as can be, right? Not my mother, because for some reason she has it in her head that the light in question is about to turn "yellow", so she immediately slows down for no apparent fucking reason. She is strongly against any "drive-throughs" for some odd reason, and this 5'2 120 pound woman will curse you out like a longshoreman on turrets if you suddenly decide to take a shortcut. It's weird, because if I'm in the car and decide to take a shortcut she will say some shit like, "God Dammit!! I hate when you fucking do that!!" That's my mom, sweet as can be.
My brother: He is definitely a capable driver, but he has certain driving idiosyncrasies that prohibit me from falling asleep. He is what I call "a tourist" when he drives, because he will survey the entire scenery while he drives and it drives me absolutely bat-shit. I always want to say to him, "You live in this area jackass, what in the fuck do you find so "captivating"?" Most people, I would imagine, do whatever they have to do to stay away from the side of those big ass hauling trailers because you might get lost in their blond spot and be crushed like a black republicans will to live. Not my brother, he will drive for miles right beside those big monstrosities without a care in the world, not knowing that the life of a 32 year old chronic masturbater is in his hands.
My sister: "Fast and the Furious" I call her, and for a good reason. It is like she made a secret vow, when she started driving, to "use the brake as little as possible". She weaves through traffic like a fucking video game, she has talent, but because a few drops of Pee came out when I was with her on one of her "missions" I would have to say that it can be a horrifying ordeal. When she does find it appropriate to use that dastardly brake pedal, she does it at the last possible minute, to the point that it would make a grown man scream like woman in a horror flick.(Not saying I screamed, it was actually like a manly yell. OK, I screamed. Fuck you!) But I will say this though, if I ever need a getaway driver for when I decide to pull off a bank heist, at least I know that my big sis will steer me to safety.
My Friend Danny: It is my opinion that some individuals can't handle big automobiles, and Danny is one of them. Danny once told me, "HumanityCritic, since I am a white republican male, it is like my birthright to drive a truck!" That's great and all, it's just a shame that he drives his truck the same way I make love after too many shots of Jack Daniels, very badly. When he is sober he drives his truck like he has had one too many, letting the truck veer from left or right sporadically, damn near crushing the car on his left and hitting the light-post on the right. He also drives incredibly slow on the highway and had to nerve to say to me while everyone was passing him, "What is everyone's rush??" I looked at the speedometer and said, "Maybe it is the fact that everyone thinks that you are retarded, based on the fact that your simple ass is doing 45 miles per hour!!!" This one time I had fought 3 dudes, not very well I may add, and had a broken hand and two shut eyes and I still demanded his keys so I could drive his car because I didn't trust his driving..
The other day I was being interviewed by a young lady named Candice who wants to do a documentary on my band. When she first came to me with the idea I agreed, not because I wanted our band to get exposurd to a greater audience, but primarily because I have come to grips with the fact that I am a full blown attention whore. So far she has some pretty good performance footage, me arguing with my band-mates, me cursing out a heckler, me kicking some asshole directly in the chest, I'm starting to think that she will title the documentary: HumanityCritic: The man, the Spaz, the total fucking psycho.
Stella:(picture not Stella) I used to date this chick named Renee who lived in a extremely bad neighborhood. It was so bad that I used to call her area "Little Beirut" for all the gunshots you would hear during any given night. Every time I left my car to go inside her house I always looked back at the car, the same way someone might look at a weekend fling as they boarded a plane, having to deal with the fact that that might be the last time you ever see them again. Yes, it was that bad. Anyway, during the course of me "dating" Renee(I put quotes around her name because our length phone conversations consisted of the ever romantic, "Hey, whatcha doing? Can I come over? cool!") I became friendly with her elderly neighbor, a woman named Stella. Stella had to be like 75, but she was still sharp as a tack and she took a quick liking to me, probably because she said that I reminded her of her grandson.
My Father: I have gone on and on about my father, to the point that many of you are probably saying "OK, we get it, you had issues with the old guy!!" If you say that, I would be forced to agree with you, but he is the main topic of conversation because a lot of what he did I feel has shaped the asshole that I am today. Granted, I am a asshole who didn't need any help being one, but his behavior definitely didn't help matters. Anyway, for a 2 week period during his last days in the hospital we had bonded in a way that we had never bonded before. We talked about the years he stayed in Japan and all the women he "dated" while he was there. I talked about all the shit I hid from him and my mother while i was a kid, we even watched movies together and hit on nurses as they came into his room. I knew that he was shitty to me before, and that I shouldn't forget any of that, but I was so starved for his affection and approval that I wanted to take in all the kindness that was coming in my direction. As he got sicker, the kindness wore off and we were back at square one with me feeling like a 27 year old "accident".
During a large portion of my life I have prided myself on being a pretty progressive thinker, my mind has opened up a great deal in the last decade or so. While many of my friends are wildly homophobic, and take great pains to express their misguided hatred for individuals who love another person of the same gender, I feel that those individuals should be left alone and be able to do whatever they want. Actually "being left alone" is my "progressive" answer to everything, abortion, interracial marriage, my constant porn watching, my penchant for sporadically throat-chopping your garden variety black republican, I guess I'm not the most complex thinker in the world. Even though a guy I went to college with named Derek claims that I have always been this open-minded, primarily because I would ritualistically beat up anyone who wanted to beat him up because he was gay. But to be honest Derek, because I know that you read this, I wasn't so much of a gay rights activist, just a chubby black bastard who liked to beat up assholes whenever I got the chance.(Hate to disappoint you)
Sports Bar: I had went to this sports bar over a year ago named "Roger Brown's" to catch a ball game, eat a shitload of wings, and try to talk some women into giving me a "charity fuck". As I sat and watched my Bears get their heads kicked in, a gentleman who had to be in his mid-60's sat down right beside me. We greeted each other, talked about sports casually, and then focused back on the game for a while. He says to me, "Son, you look like you need a drink.", so he starts to buy me shots of Yeager. I figured if this old guy wants to buy me shots I'm not going to turn them down, it's not like he wants to take me home or anything. About a hour and a half after we meet we are laughing it up, cracking dirty jokes, and making passes at a waitress who didn't mind primarily because we were basically paying her rent with the tips we were giving her. Usually, when I am in a bar, I despise anyone putting their hands on me, but since he was a old man I didn't mind him grabbing me by the shoulders in a "my buddy, my pal" kind of way. It's not like the old guy wanted to fuck me or anything.
Jillians: I was in a club, it's more like a adult arcade, it's called "Jillians".(You probably have one in your town.) Anyway, there is a bartender there that I have wanted to fight for the longest time because my mother mistakenly told me that he was nasty to her and her friends, calling one of them a black bitch..(Mom, you know better than to tell me that shit) The only reason why I haven't beat him bloody yet is because there always happens to be a cop near-by whenever I'm there, go figure. So, for the past few months I have been giving him shit and telling him to "not be surprised if I catch his ass in the parking garage and beat him with a pillowcase full of sodas". But for the past couple of weeks I have eased up, because the guy is scared shit-less and the shit isn't fun anymore.(That doesn't mean that he is exempt from getting a beating though, don't get it twisted.) Anyway, a week or so ago I am there getting a drink and he is cursing out some black guy, with the exchange ending in a "Fuck you, you fucking faggot!!" I step up and say, "Hey, this is my cousin you son of a bitch!", so I grab him and start to pull him over the bar. There is a guy there that I know named Terry, who I think is a manager there, who stopped me and said, "HumanityCritic stop playing", so I let him go and I didn't get kicked out.
It has become apparent, over the time that my band has been in existence, that my band-mates are desperately trying to play Russian Roulette with my penis. Let me explain: See, the other 5 gentlemen in my band are all married and have 2.5 kids and a white picket fence and shit, I am the only single one so they have been trying to live vicariously through me since day one. The problem is that I must be the most neurotic, germaphobic front-man ever to live, so having sex with strange women isn't something that happens regularly, especially over the past couple of years. I mean, I love sex like the next guy, so much that my therapist says that I have a "sexual addiction", but the only thing that trumps my addiction is the fact that I have actually considered wearing a spacesuit and rubber gloves to have sex. I am that germaphobic, and the whole "waiting to see if a rash develops, and if there is a burning sensation when I pee" part can be a bit tedious. Every time we have band practice, one of the guys asks me, "So Critic, what did you do over the weekend? That girl who was at our last show?? hee-hee We want details, what did you get into??" Me: Well, I did some writing, saw a couple of movies, and watched the DVD of "The Office" 
Gina: Gina is a favorite of my band-mates because she cooks for all of them whenever she attends one of our shows. I say "all of them" because I never eat her food, and it is probably delicious, but I have an issue with eating anything from someone I hardly know.(That sentence actually had a double meaning. *wink*) Gina is beautiful, smart, classy, everything that a man would want right?? Maybe. For one thing, I have never met anyone who was so fucking vague about their past. I'm not talking about some "How many guys have you slept with?" shit, I'm talking about some common "What city are you from? and Where were you born?" shit. Her reluctance to answer questions makes me think that she is either on the run for murder, or that she was secretly a man at some point in her life.(Maybe its the latter, because of how emotional she got when I was talking about "how gays should be allowed to marry") I know I'm nitpicking, but has anyone ever been staring at you and you can feel their glance burning into your skin? She stares at me to the point that I feel uncomfortable, I always imagine that she is a hit-woman hired to kill me, but she plays the "groupie" role just in order to get closer to her target. I know, I am a paranoid fuck, that is probably the reason I'm still single.
Karen: The guys in my band like her because she is the only person that can stand toe to toe with me in a argument, but who says that I like that shit? I met Karen when she was at one of our shows a couple years ago, when her then boyfriend tried to manhandle her outside and back home. Myself, one that despises violence against women, calmly told the gentleman in question to "get his hands off of her!" When he grabbed my shirt with both hands, as a reflex I head-butted him, hard as shit. I remember almost knocking myself out with that "brilliant" maneuver. Since then Karen has been our biggest fan, I only wish it was for the right reasons. For one thing, since that fateful day 2 years ago, she thinks that she "owes" me for what I did and wants to pay me with a night of "guilt free" sex. That sounds excellent, especially for a guy known for sneaking out of a woman's apartment 3 in the morning with clothes in hand, but I always decline her offer. I know a damaged individual when I see one, hell, I am one. She is still reeling from her 6 year abusive relationship, and the last thing she needs is a asshole like me fucking her life up even more. 
Deidre: My band-mates love her because she is the nicest one out of the bunch, and the fact that her body is something you would see in a porn flick doesn't hurt matters. Deidre, to be totally honest, is the perfect female. She has a love for real Hip Hop, educated, funny, easy to talk to, and the most important factor is that she doesn't irritate the piss out of me like a lot of folks do. Why don't I try and date her you ask?? Why don't I pursue a relationship? Well, I don't mean to get all Oprah on your ass but here goes. Deidre's family used to get their cars fixed at my father's car shop for years, so I have sort of known her for more than a decade. One day when Deidre was down at my pops shop to get her family's car, I was down there that particular day helping my father out. Well, that day, she was witness to a half hour belittling session compliments of my father, it was brutal man. I defended myself from the verbal onslaught, but it was still ugly.
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