Friday, September 30, 2005

Just let it go Man!

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.

Thursday, September 29, 2005

The Source gave that shit 5 Mics? HumanityCritic's review of Lil Kim's new album.

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)

Before I judged Lil Kim's album, I openly thought about the rapid decline that a magazine that I used to covet had taken. First you have the shitload of advertisements that the magazine began to have, of course they have to make their money but that shit got to be rather ridiculous. Then you have Benzino, who runs The Source with Dave Mays, who committed the ultimate conflict of interest by also being a artist.(Here is a funny line by Benzino:"Zino is the realist,since Pac been alive" Straight Comedy) You have Benzino's beef with Eminem, him providing a 14 year old tape with Eminem using the "N-word", sexual harassment allegations by two of their employees, and more recently the resignation of one of their writers because his rating of the new "Little Brother" album was changed. In saying all that, due to their recent history of unprofessionalism and lack of ethics, you can understand why I was taking their "5 mic" rating with a complete grain of salt. But, I have been wrong before so I decided to listen to Lil Kim's recent release.(Saying "Lil Kim" and "release" somehow brings nasty thoughts into my mind)

To not offend the Hip Hop gods(I can see St. Peter now, "HumanityCritic, you barely made it in. Wait, didn't you once by a Lil Kim album??") I didn't buy the album, I borrowed a copy from a friend of mine that "swears by it". That alone scared me because she considers Nelly to be, in her words, "mad lyrical", so that wasn't a good sign for the album I was about to review. Other bad signs were reviews, a lot of them good, who said shit like "This is good for Lil Kim", or "considering it is Lil Kim, it is a masterpiece". What in the fuck is that??? When did we started grading Hip Hop on a curve?? That is what I call the "retarded little brother" defense. When I was a kid my friend Manny had a little brother who was mentally handicapped and when we would play basketball and he would make a shot, me and Manny would cheer vigorously. When the other kids wondered what we were doing, Manny and I would say, "Dude, he is retarded!" If Lil Kim doesn't suffer from some sort of mental disability, her album is getting judged like anyone Else's, fuck that. You don't want to search out a doctors credibility and they say, "She is pretty good, pretty good for her that is, but she has a nice set of tits though!" Utterly ridiculous.

Anyway, I sat at my desk and started to listen to the entire album and was open minded to the fact that I might be completely wrong. To be totally honest, the first half of the album is what I would call "Listenable" at best. When I say "Listenable" that means that the music wasn't so wack to make my body convulse uncontrollably and dive for the eject button, "listenable". On the track "Spell Check" she's rather marginal, as she spells out certain words throughout the track like a poor woman's K-Solo. On the track "My N***as" I didn't find the immediate need to pummel my CD player, as she belted out her "hood anthem" of the album. "Lighters Up" is probably the best track on the album, but you know you're in trouble when the best song on your CD is based on another song out at the moment.(Damian Marley's "Welcome to Jamrock") The album, in my honest opinion, takes a nose dive from "listenable" to "steaming pile of horseshit" at the speed of light. The song she has with "The Game" entitled "Quiet" seems like she borrowed her flow for this song from Eminem when he used it on the song "I am". In the same track, where she references Foxy Brown, she declares, "Coming at me your playing with fire/I ain't going to come back at you, I'm coming at your ghostwriters." Huh?? Motherfucker you use ghostwriters, so what is you collagen filled ass talking about?? On the song "Durty", Granted, I'm not the biggest reggae fan in the world, but nothing is worse than a bad Jamaican chant like the one that she incoherently spew during the chorus of this song. You have the sleep inducing "Gimme", and a LL inspired "Kitty Box" that is a misguided sex romp based on LL Cool J's "Going Back to Cali"

When I finished listening to the album I had to openly wonder what in the fuck the people at The Source was smoking when they gave Lil Kim's album 5 mics.(..and can I have a hit?) 5 mics?? Other 5 mic recipients include Nas' "Illmatic", Notorious B.I.G's "Ready to Die", A Tribe Called Quests "Low End Theory", Outkasts "Aquemini", and Ice Cube "Death Certificate", you mean to tell me that Lil Kim's album is in the same stratosphere as those masterpieces?? Get the fuck out of here. So it's now official, the pages of The Source are not fit to wipe one's self or line the cage of a domesticated animal, that is the simple truth. But even if I did think it was the best thing since sliced bread or Nia Long's thighs, wouldn't I have to immediately deduct 2 Mic's based on the fact that Lil Kim doesn't write her own lyrics?? What did MC Lyte say, "Do not say shit till you write your own rhyme!!" Amen to that. I could still say that this album is "good for Lil Kim", or "considering it's Lil Kim, it's pretty good", but this faithful Hip Hop fan gives this album 2 throat-chops out if five, retarded little brothers aside.

Wednesday, September 28, 2005

There is a God!!! Rosario Dawson will play the female lead in Clerks 2

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 play the female lead in the sequel to one of my favorite movies, "Clerks 2: Passion of the Clerks". Now if I can get a walk on role as her love interest I will be set.

Being the Neighbor of a Television Family

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!

Tuesday, September 27, 2005

Dear Buddy

Dear Buddy,

It has been nearly a year since that bastard took you away from everyone who loves you, so I decided to write you this letter.(Lets just hope they get high speed Internet in Heaven) Well, since you have been gone nothing much has changed, I'm still single, Hip Hop still sucks, Bush is even more of a nightmare this term, and ole' girl is getting married.(ex girlfriend) Speaking of her, remember all those hours I would talk to you about her when cupid decided to take a shit in my cereal? I remember that "have you lost your motherfucking mind" look that you gave me when I was talking about her and a tear strolled down my face, that was some classic shit man.(Embarassing, but classic) You were always there brother, listening to my constant whining and you never shamed me about it when the smoke cleared. I definitely love you for that.

Remember the time when you told me that you were going to be the "designated driver" when we went out to that club a couple of years ago? I had no idea that you were drinking that night, until I heard a cop knock on the car window as you and I were both asleep, stopped at a traffic light. I still remember you screaming "Shut the fuck up!" when the cop was being an asshole and I kept calling him and his partner "Serpico", "Kojak", "Cagney and Lacy", and "Murtaugh and Riggs".

Oh shit, I almost forgot this one. How about that time when we were in that North Carolina club and those guys were talking shit to you? Remember as we approached them, the crowd knew we meant business and they parted like the red sea and shit to get out of our way?? Yeah man, those were some good times.

OK, you got me, I can't lie to you, I am really writing this letter to apologize because over the past year I have been a horrible friend. When you passed I promised myself that I would visit your parents to see how they were doing, make sure everything was OK. To be honest, I have driven past their house about 20 times meaning to go inside, but couldn't find the courage to go to the door and see the hurt in their eyes from losing their only son. I have to apologize for disrespecting your father's wishes of "not looking to retaliate" against your killer. This is hard to say, but right after his sincere warning what do I do? I went to where I knew that your killer hung out at, and damn near hunted that motherfucker for about a week, with the intent of giving him a first class ticket to hell. Dear friend, your father seems like a very nice man and I'm sorry I disrespected him like that.

When some friends learned that I was hunting your killer, they had kind of an "intervention" with me and a pastor, I guess to straighten me out. I still remember the pastor saying "Vengeance is mine said the lord", and he also said, "God will make that young man pay for his sins". Regrettably, I told they pastor, "Yeah, but his ass is taking too motherfucking long!!" I know, that's bad, I apologize Buddy.

Even recently, when I learned that a bartender at a bar that I go to grew up with your killer I informed him that he killed my friend. When he got amazingly silent, I went to my car and got the billy club that I keep in my car and started to go back inside the bar and beat some key information out of him. But I don't need to tell you about that story, because I felt your presence holding me back, because for some reason I couldn't go back in the club. That was you, thanks, because "the ladies" have said that they "like my ass" so I'm not trying to showcase said ass in prison. So again, I must apologize my dear friend, because of the disappointment I have been as a friend since your passing.

But while I'm apologizing I must call you out though, because we are friends I am sure that you will understand. OK, because you have "gotten your wings" I am most certain that you wouldn't want me to hurt anyone or get hurt avenging your death. I have to call you out because the old Buddy would have been the first one, blasting like the last scene in "Scarface" if someone had done that to me. Hey I just call them like I see them, but I digress.

In closing, you were the best friend a guy could have and I miss you dearly. We will hang out again, and this time next year I hope to send you a letter with better overall behavior to report to you. So, tell everyone I said what's up, and when my father is bitching to you about me writing about him just ask him "If it is true or not". That will silence him, albeit momentarily. Peace. I love you man.

Love HumanityCritic R.I.P Fletcher "Buddy" Parker

News Footage surrounding friend's death

Long Live the Kane

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!

So the opening credits come on and I see that they will be honoring LL Cool J, Grandmaster flash and The Furious Five, Ice T, Salt and Pepa, The Notorious B.I.G, and Big Daddy Kane. I watched and overall it was "alright", I mean whoever produced the show and handles what camera angles should be used should be shot, but it was OK. Nelly performed a few LL Cool J songs, reminding me of why I exactly hate that motherfucker.(At least, I'm pretty sure, that was the first time I actually heard him rap though and not sing.) Cierra joined hm on stage for LL's "Doing it" and I kept wondering if the rumors about her having "man meat" were true, so I kept focusing on her crotch. Then LL performed, and regardless of what people think about the guy he is still a motherfucking legend. Even though, sorry L, I could have done without you pouring water on your body like you were in "Flashdance" and shit. But then again, I know that wasn't for me.

The segment for Grandmaster Flash and the Furious 5 was remarkably, this is hard to say, informative considering it was vh1. They dropped some knowledge, schooling the masses that it was indeed "Cowboy" who started the whole call and response tactic that MC's used up until today.("Throw your hands in the air") The segment with Grandmaster Flash performing alongside Kid Capri and Jazzy Jeff was cool, but it just cemented in my mind that Jazzy Jeff is the best DJ ever.

The Ice T performance was cool, especially since he performed, alongside Snoop, two of my favorite songs that were, "Colors" and "6 in the morning". I respect Ice T, and the main fact that he was once a pimp and has Successfully crossed over is a feat in itselfand totally blows my mind.

As I saw Salt and Pepa perform I suddenly got a massive "chubby", because in High School I had the biggest crush on Spinderella. Shit, I still have a big crush on her, do you think I can win her over by saying, "Hey baby, you know I won a blog award right?" OK, maybe not, but they performed alongside En Vogue and I guess they did their thing. The one thing that perplexes me about Salt and Pepa, and I respect them, is how "legendary" are they since Herbie wrote a shitload of their earlier work? I'm just wondering.

There was a tribute to Notorious B.I.G which was alright, but you know that Puffy obviously had to show his fucking face. Watching the performance I thought: 1:I don't ever want to see lil' Cease's non rapping ass on a stage ever again. 2. Ludacris is cool with me and 3. I liked Faith Evans when she had a bit more weight on her, or is that just me?

But, the performance of the night came from a guy who is one of the best rappers to ever do it, Big Daddy Kane. My cousin's changed my life in the summer of 88' when they brought me down 3 tapes that would change my life forever. EPMD's "Strictly Business", Public Enemy's "It Takes a Nation of Millions..", and Big Daddy Kane's "Long Live the Kane". That was my "Holy Trinity" of Hip Hop albums that would guide me through a lifelong love affair with said art form. Sure I liked Hip Hop before 88, but those albums made me forever breath, eat, and shit Hip Hop.

As I watched the artists who performed in tribute to him, I was happily surprised. As T.I did a verse from Kane's "Smooth Operator" I suddenly didn't despise his very existence any more, when Black Thought did a verse from "Set it off" I remembered why I liked "The Roots" in the first place. Common didn't do his rendition of Kane's "Raw" justice, but made up for it when he got on the floor and started B-Boying.

Then, the man himself, who has to be all of 37 and still ripping the mic with his classic "Warm it Up". I stood out of my chair and shouted when he did the same dance moves that he did in 1989, shuffling his feet back and forth while his arms were around his dancers, falling backwards only to be caught and propped up, to step on Scoob luva's leg and do the splits. That was some classic shit man. Listen, I love Biggie and all, but I must revise a lil' kim line that is in her new single "Lighters up". Revision: "Brooklyn Home to the greatest rappers/ Kane comes first THEN Big comes after!" Get it right you fucking jailbird!

After watching a living legend, I must ask you:

Who's flat top rules in 2005??!!

Check out the performances here

Friday, September 23, 2005

Freestyle battle: HumanityCritic vs. Bush: Live at the Superdome!

(Scene starts with HumanityCritic having many drinks with Howard Dean in a Strip Club somewhere in Virginia Beach. Both, completely shitfaced)

(Howard placing a few dollars in front of a stripper named Cadillac)

Howard Dean:(to stripper) Shake that ass baby! You know what daddy likes!!

HumanityCritic: Howard, what has gotten into you lately? You don't drink, you are happily married, what's up man?

Howard Dean:(throwing back a shot) Well, I am so sick and fucking tired of people calling Clinton the "first black president"! I'm sick of trying to pick up some fine young "thang" and then having her ask me, "Can you hook me up with Bill Clinton?" What in the fuck is that? Hey, I love black folks, and when you compare our politics over the past year I have been a lot more "gangsta"!

HumanityCritic:(pausing because of him using the word "gangsta"): For one thing Howard, look at Bill over there.(Points at Bill Clinton where he is sitting with a slew of ladies) See, he is a bona fide pimp, he has that big booty chick from the OutKast Video on one arm, that "Superhead" chick on the other arm, and sitting on his lap is.... Wait a minute, is that the white chick who played "Kelly" in "Breakin"?

Howard Dean:(putting on glasses, then squinting) Nawww, that ain't her dude.

HumanityCritic: Anyway, Bill is a pimp and you(putting a mirror up to his face) are the same type of motherfucker that I would have gotten my biology answers from in High School. You just have to play your position Howie.

Howard Dean: Man, fuck you HumanityCrtic! Anyway, what are you going to do about Katrina?

HumanityCritic: Hey, that kid ain't mine, I don't care what she says!! Plus dude, I was wearing a condom, plastic gloves, and a oxygen mask because I was scared to catch any type of disease from her triffling ass. She is almost as nasty as that whore of a blogger who tried to diss me yesterday. Whatever she told you, her ass is lying!

Howard Dean:(shaking head): No you silly son of a bitch, Hurricane Katrina!! Jesus..

HumanityCritic: Oh. You know how I feel, you read my blog don't you.

Howard Dean: No.

HumanityCritic: So that wasn't you posting anonymously when I gave you props some months back? The person kept saying "Howard Dean is a hot piece of ass!" and "That Doctor can take my temperature anytime"! Motherfucker, only you talk like that!!

Howard Dean: Well, I..

HumanityCritic:(interrupting)..and before you say anything I tracked that shit back to your office.

Howard Dean: OK, guilty as charged. If you feel so strongly about Hurricane Katrina and the incompetence around it, battle Bush. Battle that motherfucker and hold his ass accountable. You gotta represent son!(beating chest)

HumanityCritic: "Gotta represent"? Where did that come from?

Howard Dean: I have been playing a shitload of old school Hip Hop lately, sorry.

HumanityCritic: Listen, I already battled Bush, twice. That shit is getting old man, I'm just not into it.

(Bill O'Reilly is sititng at the other end of the bar, possible harassing some more of his interns, and in a drunken stooper he yells:)

Bill O'Reilly: Because you are scared to battle him, pussy. You and your *hiccup* liberal agenda, blaming Bush for everything. I heard through the *hiccup* grapevine that Bush has been practicing and he has something for your hubcap stealing ass!

HumanityCritic:(Looks at Howard Dean) OK, I'm in, only if your tree hugging ass will be my DJ. What do you say?

Howard Dean: No doubt, we gonna(throws up gang signs) "serve these fools something proper-like"!

HumanityCritic: Stop fucking doing that! But first, lets whip Bill O'Reilly's ass, I love to hear that bastard cry.

Howard Dean: Lets do it.

(HumanityCritic and Howard Dean commence in beating the living shit out of that blowhard Bill O'Reilly. Damn!! I know that I am only the commentator here, but Howard Dean is beating his monkey ass! HumanityCritic literally has a shoe stuck in Mr. O'Reilly's ass!!.)

(A week later, after all the particulars were worked out and Bush accepted HumanityCritic's challenge, it was HC's turn to pick the venue. That venue, was the Louisiana Superdome.)

Brian Williams: This is Brian Williams from NBC News and I would like to welcome all of you to the battle of all battles: HumanityCritic vs. Bush: Live at the Superdome! Bush has been taking more heat than a prostitute in hell, and HumanityCritic has just come from, well, being a horny black bastard that even a local porn video store owner has characterized as "one sick son of a bitch" It should be interesting, here is Michael Buffer with the introductions.

(Mic drops down out of nowhere)

Michael Buffer: Ladies and Gentlemen, in the great state of Louisiana we bring you a battle of the ages. One that will be fought to the lyrical death, with one man standing and one man standing in his own urine, simply embarrassing the shit out of himself. For Bush, he has to explain a slow response time to this tragedy. HumanitCritic, well, he has to tear Bush a new one, bust a ill rhyme flow, and keep his hands off the Bush twins' tits.

HumanityCritic:(quickly releasing the tits of the Bush twins) What!!

Michael Buffer: Leeets Get Ready to Ruuuumble!

Michael Buffer: In this corner, wearing cowboy boots, a cowboy hat, and some old jeans that I guess makes him seem more like a "down-home boy" to simple Americans.. George W. Bush!

(Bush jogs in with Rush Limbaugh and Dick Cheney, but has to keep stopping because of the pills falling out of Rush's pockets and the 5 heart attacks Cheney had within a 20 meter distance.)

Michael Buffer: In the other corner, wearing shell-toe Adidas, camouflage shorts, and a shirt that says "Barbara Bush is a silly Bitch" on it, HumanityCritic!

(HumanityCritic jogs in to Public Enemy's "Prophets of Rage", with Howard Dean and Barack Obama jogging along side of him)

Michael Buffer: Gentlemen, whenever you're ready.

George W. Bush: Put the record on DJ!!

(Rush Limbaugh throws on a instrumental to Arrested Development's "Tennessee")

George Bush:(turns to the already angry crowd) See, I'm representing!!

HumanityCritic: That song is called "Tennessee", we are in New Orleans you dumb fuck!

George Bush: Oh. Here we go.

I'm George Bush and I'm one bad sum' bitch/
HumanityCritic will try to say that I'm only for the rich/
All of YOU are the same, making me the main blame/
When you fail to look at the Governor, or the Mayor "what's his name"/
I got off of vacation, you silly black bastard/
Now everyone's going bat-shit, concerning how slow I reacted/
Look at what I have to deal with, this shit and Iraq/
Now people are saying that I hate you because you're black/
I have many black friends, I would have you to know/
I'm cool with Willy our Gardener, and that colored guy who shovels my snow/
Condi is my home-girl, she taught me how to "Crip walk"/
People are dying in New Orleans, and all you can do is shit talk?/
No one could have foreseen the damage that would be done/
You think this shit is fun, Kerry would have "cut and run"/
Michael Chertoffs handling business, doing a good job I vow/
FEMA's doing fine now, you can't fuck with my rhyme pal/
I see Howard Dean's on your squad, god damn you're a sucker/
I'm George W. Bush and I run this motherfucker!

(George Bush throws his mic down and raises his hands in victory. The crowd, mostly people affected by his utter incompetence, are booing him and giving him the finger. The only ones clapping are Barbara Bush and George Sr, both wearing matching "Oh Shit, I see black people" T-shirts. Ann Coulter is applauding via satellite, doing a break-dance routine for the camera. The Bush Twins are also applauding, but at the same time they are mouthing the words, "we-wanna-have-your-baby-HumanityCritic")

Michael Buffer: HC, you're up!

HumanityCritic: Howard, put the record on.

(He throws on the instrumental of Notorious B.I.G's "Kick in the Door")

HumanityCritic: OK, here we go.

(To Crowd)

Now Throw your hands in the air, and waive em' like you just don't care/
If you think George Bush is an incompetent fuck, somebody say "Oh Yeah!!"

Superdome Crowd: Ohhh Yeaaah!!

I've beaten you twice before so this shit isn't new/
But I have so much rage, Barbara won't recognize you when I'm through/
While people were dying, suffering and aching/
Your bitch ass was chilling, not wanting to come off of your vacation/
Meteorologists have been saying for years that a disastrous hurricane would hit/
So please save me the "aww shucks routine", and the "No one could have foreseen" bullshit/
People were dying in the thousands, dead bodies floating like buoys in the water/
I have to ask you, would you have responded faster if they looked like your daughter?/
If it was Salt Lake City, or your home state of Connecticut, Please no more lies/
The American people have eyes, you can't spin this into "Freedom Fries"/
Or "He voted For it before he voted against it", or "John Kerry looks french"/
Take a deep breath George, you can smell the dead body stench!/
You gutted FEMA, this debacle was a no-brainer/
And who do you hire to run it? A motherfucking horse trainer??/
As you got out of your leer, and spewed a apology that sounded somewhat sincere/
But ask any one, you don't get any credit admitting what's crystal clear./
You're all mirrors and smoke and the following you can quote/
Because of this mess, in 08' republicans can forget about the black vote!

(The crowd goes crazy as HC throws his arms up in victory. Bush, "sell-out" Condi, Cheney, and all of Bush's posse are whisked away immediately. Hillary Clinton and Maxine Waters are doing the "kid n play" dance. Ted Kennedy is doing one mean cabbage patch, all while not spilling a drop of his scotch! In excitement, Howard Dean grabs the mic from HumanityCritic:)

Howard Dean:(Excited, too excited) Yeeeeeeaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!

HumanityCritic:(grabs the mic back): Give me that you fucking psycho! Hey Howard, who is that white girl busting those serious break-dance moves in front of Bill Clinton?

(Howard and HumanityCritic focus in to see who it is)

HumanityCritic and Howard Dean:(In unison) That IS that white girl who played the character of "Kelly" in "Breakin'!! Ohh Shit!

HumanityCritic: Come on Howard, lets see what we can do to help around here.

Thursday, September 22, 2005

Any Given Sunday

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.

Every time I touched the ball, on a running play or a passing play, the only thing they aimed for were my knees. Danny saw how I looked, and usually he tries to prevent me from going psycho, but this time in a very mocking "black voice" that I would usually curse him out for he said "You better "represent" son!! You going out like that??" Bad stereotypes aside, he was right, I had to get even. So besides me chop-blocking them right the fuck back, I talked shit about there wives even though they were in attendance. Instead of simply sacking the quarterback I would clothesline the shit out of him, time after time. I did it so much that his entire team threatened my life, so I figured I would do it one more time. So I rushed passed the lineman, cocked my arm back, and when I clotheslined him I was off aim and caught him in the mouth, knocking out his two front teeth. I really felt bad as he clutched his mouth screaming in pain, and when I was about to apologize someone hit me in the back of the head, with a THERMUS! I turned around and it was the wife of the guy I had hit, along with three of her friends, and they meant business. They had put their hands up and they were actually throwing blows in my direction. As Danny said, "Lets get the fuck out of here" he basically pushed me to his car, as we drove off the "football wives" were actually throwing shit at our car as we sped away. Man, I love this game.

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."

Wouldn't you know it, the very next play as I caught a 15 yard pass and was tackled immediately, the man in question shoved my head down once again. So, never one to break a promise, I get up immediately and hit the shit out of him, cracking his newly purchased "sports glasses". Danny immediately rushes over and tries to shield me from the oncoming mob destined to rip me a new one. I shoved Danny away knowing that I was about to receive a beat down, but at least one of them would leave there with some sort of injury caused by yours truly. The first guy rushes me and I kick him in the chest, the second one grabs me from behind and I give him a massive backwards head butt, I even grabbed a miniature water cooler and started hitting dudes with it. For a moment, a fleeting moment mind you as I bounced around like I was crazy, I felt like Bruce Lee screaming "Come one, Come all, I'll take on all of you motherfuckers.." Before I could even finish that sentence someone had hit me with the ball, stunning me for a moment, and I began to receive the beating of a lifetime. It would have been worse if Danny didn't shoot his starter pistol in the air, causing the men to get off of me.(He sometimes helps out as a track referee, hence the pistol) As I got off the ground, staggering like I had been drinking for hours on end, I get to Danny's car and say, "A starter pistol?? Thank god those assholes can't tell the difference!" I then grabbed his keys because I really don't trust his driving.(See this post about Danny's driving)

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"

The next few times I tackled her hard, not in a "let me show you I'm a man" kind of way but a "Let me stop your impeding progress" on some casual football shit. Then she started punching me in the chest on random plays, even kicking me in the nuts after another play. I warned her to "stop" but she kept on, even challenging me to a fight, putting her hands up and inching closer to me. I told her, "I have never hit a woman but I'm pretty sure no one would care if I knocked you out!!"(I was kind of worried, because of course I would never hit her, but I had a friend once die because he refused to defend himself against a woman) Since she really wanted to fight me I felt that my only option was to leave, but as I began to depart this lovely game Mike grabbed me and said "She's only playing man", then the girl in question said, "Yeah you fairy, I'm not going to hurt you!" I agreed to play some more, but I had to make a urgent phone call first. After I hung up my phone we finished the game, and the only reason I dealt with the three more punches that she gave me to the chest was because of what was about to happen next. While the game is over and I am drinking my water, Suzy comes running out of nowhere pointing, saying "HumanityCritic, is that her!!??" I scream out, "Yes Suzy, beat her motherfucking ass!!" Suzy proceeded to give the girl a misguided jump kick, which was sloppy as shit but effective. As Suzy is on top of her, using her face like a pinata, Mike comes over to me and says, "Dude, why did you do that, she was only playing with you!!" I said, "Fuck that, she had to learn a lesson" as the girl in question is screaming "Somebody get this bitch off me!!"

Wednesday, September 21, 2005

6 Quick Tips for Beginning Bloggers

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?)

Tuesday, September 20, 2005

Driving my ass Crazy!

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..

Monday, September 19, 2005

Heartbreak Hotel

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.

Anyway, she was interviewing me the other day and asking me questions that I personally thought were very personal, outside the scope of band related stuff. But since she is a very kind individual who has showed extreme passion behind doing a documentary with a front-man with the temper of a petulant five year old, and a guy whose own mother describes as a 32 year old "boy", I figured I would answer all of her questions honestly.(Some ladies would say that I was hung like a 5 year old as well, but you can't believe the rumors.) She asked me about my family, habits, dislikes, very standard questions until she got to the question, "Can you tell me about your most extreme heartbreaks? Immediately your mind goes to heartbreaks of the relationship variety, where some misguided trollop of a woman loosely juggled with your emotions like a fucking circus clown. But as I sat there, I realized that I have had heartbreak in my life more extreme, that had nothing to do with some girl I loved simply because she didn't totally "irritate" me, or because she lacked a "gag reflex". I went into detail about two "heartbreaks", and here they are..

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.

Through many conversations that we had I learned several interesting things about her, like her active involvement in the civil rights movement, tales of a brother of hers that was lynched, but most of all I learned her extreme love for music. We would sit in her living room that always smelled like cornbread, which I mean in the best way possible, and we would spin records for hours listening to Ella, Nina, Count Basie, Miles, you name it we played it. She was also a first class riot, especially when she would say to me, "HumanityCritic, you know the girl that you are messing with is easy don't you?? I hope you aren't falling in love, so you would be smart if you had the same emotional investment in her as you do your socks. She's pretty easy!" I would always nod in agreement and say, "Stella, I'm not with her because of her mind. Plus, I could never get serious with anyone who has to think for a moment when asked who the president is, plus there is a good chance that if me and her had a child together she would name my offspring some ghetto ass name that she thinks is unique, but is actually a Ethiopian word for asshole. Don't worry." Stella had a special place in my heart, and I anxiously awaited the days when I would see her, seeing her frail body answer the door and the look of happiness on her face.

So you can imagine my shock and horror when I learned that Stella was brutally raped and murdered outside her house as she got her morning paper one day. I was in a state of disbelief for hours after Renee had told me what had happened over the phone, it was also a shock that her neighbors either didn't see anything or they wouldn't cooperate with police. The reality set in when a police officer, who probably shouldn't have told me anything, went into vivid detail of how many times she was stabbed and the two probable men that committed that heinous crime. As he finished up the horrible specifics of what happened I dropped to my knees and sobbed uncontrollably. I looked up at the police officer with my tear ducts about to explode and said, "Are you going to get these motherfuckers?" and he assured me that he would. That wasn't enough for me, and since 75% of the people on Stella's block wer either on drugs, or selling drugs, I seriously considered threatening people to get some answers, on some Hollywood dectective shit. I realized that my anger was out of control as I heard myself saying the following to Renee, right before I planned on getting some guns and doing lord knows what: "I'm going to find out who in the fuck murdered Stella! If I have to put a bullet in a dope fein or a dealer, fuck it, because no one would miss those motherfuckers anyway!!" As soon as those words left my mouth I realized that I had lost it, the look on Renee's face told me as much. Plus this isn't Hollywood, because in real life "good guy" vigilante's get shot the fuck up, and the last thing I would want is to break my mothers heart.(Even though I did try to beat the living shit out of the two individuals who "wouldn't cooperate" with the police. The cop shouldn't have told me that shit either, but I can't fault the guy in aiding some good old fashion "street justice") Stella's murderers, as of September 19, 2005 are still at large.

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".

The first major heartbreak was when my father, grasping for every breath, apologized to me for how he treated me and told me that he loved me. It hurt me deeply because why did he need to be near death to express his love for me, I would have rather he not apologized and been consistent. Lastly, the incident that tore my heart to shreds is when he held my brothers hand and IN FRONT OF ME told him that he was the "good son" and he should take pride in the fact that he wasn't "a disappointment" like HumanityCritic. Right when he said that my mother immediately looked at me, I smiled back and nodded to her in a "don't worry about it" kind of way and silently left the room. My whole life, when he would do something horrible I would say to myself "I'm not doing that!!", referring to how I wouldn't treat my child. I sat down outside his room, laughed to myself to keep from crying and said, "I'm definitely not doing that!"

Thursday, September 15, 2005

Does this shirt make me look gay??

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)

Speaking of Derek, whenever I would chat with him on campus more than 10 years ago, he would point out the individuals that he thought were secretly gay.(I guess it was his "gay-dar") To "one-up" him, I would point out all the women I left unsatisfied within a 4 year period, not as impressive as Derek's talent but still. I would always ask Derek, "If you didn't know me, would I come off as gay to you?" Before he would answer I tried to cover my question up as to not offend him by saying, "Not that being gay is a bad thing!" Again, before he could answer I would interrupt by saying, "I mean, I'm cool with gay people! The Village People are one of the most underrated groups of the past 50 years!" He would give me a strange look and say, "Shut the fuck up, I get it. (looking at me) I don't get the gay vibe off of you, not really.." "Not really", I said, "I'm all man buddy!! If I had a belt to hold all the notches from my sexual conquests, I would have a fucking Chewbacca belt and shit! Also, no one on this campus fucks with me!!" Derek laughed and sarcastically said, "OK, bragging about sleeping with women and how tough you are, sure you aren't overcompensating for something?? But seriously, you don't come off as gay, not really?

For the past few years I didn't know if Derek's "not really" was his way of fucking with me, or he actually saw something in me that would throw off a gay man's "gaydar". There were a few events, that happened within the past year that proved the latter to be true.

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.

I guess I bonded with the man because he reminded me of my father, minus the belittling, verbal abuse, and Jekyll and hide personality. Around 2 a.m everyone is filing out of the bar and I am shitfaced drunk. So drunk that the next 45 minutes will either be spent sobbingly telling a cab driver my life story, mistakenly going to a ex-bootycall's house even though she has just gotten married, or drunk dialing a miscellaneous woman and telling her that "gravity is nothing but a conspiracy theory! Don't let the government lie to you!!". I pay my tab which was only about 30 bucks, I say good-bye to the nice man and begin to go on my way. He says, "What are you doing later? Want to hang out some more?" Thinking he is talking about going to the lap dance place down the street, I say, "Man, I'm not going there, because not only did I fight the manager, but the women there don't "wash their hot-spots!!" He laughed and said, "No, no. Why don't you come home with me?" Slow ass me, I say, "What, you have some chicks there?" He then said, "No, it would be just me and you!" I literally stood there for an entire minute trying to figure out what in the fuck he was talking about, and when I did my eyes got big and I said, "Ohhh. Naw man, I'm straight brother, on some "Chewbacca belt" shit!"(Not realizing that he didn't know that Chewbacca reference) He then looked at his tab and gave me a look that I'm all too familiar with. It was the same look that I give some woman who I have just spent a shitload of money on, not expecting sex, but hoping that she will find a place in her precious heart to put that into consideration, so possibly we can be counting ceiling tiles together later.(albeit for 2 minutes) I pull out my wallet and said, "I know what that fucking look means!", and I hand him about 60 dollars, what I think he spent on shots. I start to walk away, but I return to the man in question and say, "Do I look gay to you?"

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.

About a half hour later the guy that I stuck up came up to me, with a very beautiful woman, and thanked me for what I did. So I sat down with them and talked for a while, primarily because his lady friend was so beautiful that I was pitching a serious tent.(Another reason to sit down.) As we are talking I learn that the both of them are friends and roommates, and that they have been in the area for 5 years. I wasn't drunk or anything, I was just mesmerized by her thick lips, caramel mounds of flesh, and backside that you could place a drink on. I figured, even if I didn't get to ever see her in her birthday suit, I could save the image of her in my head for future masturbatory material. To be honest, I didn't listen to a word she said, she could have been talking about her plans to start a cult where they wore parachute pants, read Archie comics as their scripture and smoked embalming fluid, I would of just kept nodding in agreement as I stared at her tits. Last thing I remember is asking for the number, giving her a hug, and giving her homeboy a handshake. A few days later I called and was talking to the chick I met a few nights earlier. After a few moments she asked me, "Don't you want to talk to Jerry?" I said, "Why in the fuck would I want to talk to Jerry for?" She said, "That is the reason why I gave you the number, so you and Jerry could go out!" "Huh", I said, "I don't remember that part, you didn't say that! I thought you were giving me the number for you!!" There was a long pause, then she said, "I thought the part about Jerry "thinking what you did was sexy", me being engaged, and me saying "that you and Jerry would look great together" was more something of a hint!" I said, "Where was I at, I don't recall any of that! I'm straight, on some straight chewbacca shit! What was I doing?" She said, "Chewbacc..? Whatever, you want to know what you were doing?? Staring at my tits!", where I said "They are magical man, they have the power to make a straight man block out homosexual advances. You should take those bad boys on the road and make money!" She laughed and said, "Sorry for the mix-up, take care of yourself." "Take care of yourself", I said, but before I hung up I said, "But I'm saying, do I look gay to you??"

Wednesday, September 14, 2005

Diary of a Mad Single Black Blogger

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"

I know I disappoint them, but I guess I can't be anyone but myself. Besides the obvious "health reasons", I wouldn't hook-up with a woman that goes to one of our shows because it would be awkward seeing her at other shows, and what if I'm a bad lay? I mean, this is embarrassing to admit, but what if she sees me in a certain way while I'm on stage, and when when I take her home I let her down faster than a plummeting elevator. I always felt that if I wasn't packing the proper "heat"(did I just say "heat"? Heavens!) that she would come to our next show with a big sign saying, "Ladies, That motherfucker is hung like a toddler!!". No thanks! Besides my insecurities about the situation in general, the particular women that they think I should get to know "biblicly" don't seem like the type of women I want to get involved with anyway. Let me break a few of them down and get your honest opinion.

(The pictures are just actresses that I think resemble the women in question, that's all. Do you fuckers think that if I had the chance to be with the "Half Baked" girl that I would be behind a computer screen? I would dazzle her with 3 minutes of lovemaking, THEN be behind a computer screen.)

Suzy: If there is one reason that my band-mates think that I am a closeted homosexual is because of Suzy, and my refusal to sleep with her. I talked about Suzy about 9 months ago, where I provoked a fight she got into around Christmas time. Suzy is basically my carbon copy, besides the fact that she is Latina, a woman, and bi-sexual, but you get the point. She is beautiful, but you know that you have a out of control temper when I am the one calming you sown, being the voice of reason. Granted, she provides the ultimate entertainment, because when there are some female hecklers who don't care for our anti-bush songs, Suzy is always there to knock them clean the fuck out. I have to admit, to an asshole like me that is pretty hot, but the fact that she is always pissy drunk and tugging at my zipper is not really attractive. OK, it's attractive sometimes, but not in a "will you be my girlfriend" kind of way. Also, her bi-sexuality is a issue simply because competing with guys is a task all in itself, add females to the mix and I might be a complete wreck trying to vie for her full attention. Sometimes I have fantasies of Suzy and I getting it on with one of her girlfriends, but that dream turns into a nightmare when I remember one of her girlfriends resembled Bruce Willis. Yippee-Kiyay motherfucker! But I would hope that all of you don't see this as me passing judgment on Suzy, hell, I share my issues with all of you daily, yall know I'm fucked up. I'm just giving reason why I couldn't get involved with her, that's all.

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.

Not only that, she really doesn't know me based on the following rant that she went on: "HumanityCritic, I have love for you because you are patient, kind, considerate, and just a lovable easygoing guy!" Who in the fuck was she talking about? But I must admit, the "guilt-free" sex bit is tempting, putting on my jacket and geeting ready to go while climaxing is a blog post in itself.

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.

Anyway, whenever I see Deidre it brings me back to that day at my old man's car garage, being that she is the only person outside my family to witness the wrath of my father and his intended target, me. I've told her about it and she claims that she doesn't remember that, but I know that she is just saying that to be nice. Damn, I am fucked up.

Coming Soon- A blog dedicated to my band, and our weekly bullshit.(That's if you fuckers even care)