Wednesday, November 30, 2005

You are "Rubbish" at your Job!!

Random Definition:

Rubbish: 1. Garbage. 2: "Crappy"

You will have to forgive me. See, I have a friend from England who uses this word a lot and I didn't know when I would get a chance to use it without looking like a complete douche, or a person that was desperately trying to sell some new found vernacular upon my family and friends. The other day when I asked my friend what the deal was with that puertorican waitress that I hooked him up with he said, "Hell mate, all she did was talk about your bloody ass the whole time, but I tapped that though". Me, pausing, trying to figure out if it was alright for me to ask about the quality of said booty, was interrupted by him when he said, "It was rubbish, let me tell you!" which made me giggle like a school girl for a few minutes.

So the other night I found myself in a strip club, getting a lap dance from a girl who had obviously just started her career based on her very nonrhythmic movements and that "I can't believe I'm wearing clear heels" look on her face. Usually I would have just moved on to the next girl, a more experienced girl that would leave me with an even bigger pair of blue balls, rivaling the cartoon character "Nutsack Smurf", but I just kept giving her more of my money.(OK, "Nutsack Smurf" wasn't a character, but didn't you wonder which smurf kept smurfette satisfied enough to not become the town whore. Or was she the town whore, but the animators of said show decided to edit it "selectively". Sorry for the rant) I don't know what I expected, it wasn't like she would be like the character in "Footloose" where she turns into someone that had two left feet into Debbie Allen or some shit. But after 4 dances, 2 Reggae-ton songs, a Lil John song, and a Mike Jones song, my irritation of hearing that nonsense along with my "soldier" that was only at semi-attention, I blurted out "You are rubbish at your job!!" She stopped dancing, glared at me with a look of disgust which turned into one of frustration, asking me "Is rubbish a good thing??" I smiled and said, "Yes, its very complimentary", sitting back down to pay good money to let a woman I didn't know rub her crotch on me. Besides thinking about how she represented strippers in a negative light because of her ignorance, the many hours I would spend trying to scrub her stench off of me, I also wondered about all the people that I come in contact with that are also "rubbish" at their jobs.

Movie Ticket Girl: Like many of you who read this boring blog already know, I go to the movies so much that I might as well work there. I can see a movie regardless of the genre except for horror, not because the scripts are lacking or because they are predictable, but because I am a big pussy. Anyway, I go to this one theater by my house to the point that I know most of the employees by name. When I walk in I keep expecting to hear the "Cheers" theme song come on("Everybody knows your name..") , even a few of them forgetting my real name and calling me "Norm" and shit. I don't have a problem with anyone there except the ticket girl named Shante. Shante must be like 20 years old, and she has a body that would be best suited for a Nelly music video, but she is the worst ticket girl to have ever existed throughout the history of man. Listen, I know what you're thinking, it is a minimum wage job that peoples lives aren't dependent on, but at least she could put out some sort of effort. My theory is, besides giving back correct change and the correct ticket, the only other task her job requires is to keep the fucking line moving. That's it. But Shante, besides her constantly giving you incorrect change on a regular basis, chews gum in a way that you want to break through the glass and choke the living shit out of her. Not only that, she acts like she has all day, talking to her co-workers, eating food, while there is a line of 30 people deep in front of her. Usually I would complain, tell the managers what kind of inept employee they have and to get rid of her immediately

But there are a couple of problems with me doing that. First of all she likes me, to the point that she unbuttons her shirt a couple of buttons exposing her sinful cleavage and says that me having dreadlocks is "sexy as shit". To an insecure, shallow prick in search of validation like myself, that is enough to keep me from snitching about her to her superiors. The sad thing is that I am a hypochondriac and too paranoid about catching some sort of new genital bird flu, and her age being a bit of a problem, that I will never get to have a "hate fuck" session with her where I tell her how lousy she is at her job. Also, I don't want to contribute to the black unemployment numbers in any way possible. So, she is indeed horrible at her job, but as long as no one else complains then I guess she will be looking sexy doing it.(or not doing it.)

Stan the Pimp: Did I ever tell you that I have a friend that fashions himself a "pimp", sort of. OK, he does have women in his "stable" that he makes have sex for money, but the disrespect thrown in his direction by his workers are very "un-pimp" like. I have known Stan for years and he has always been a entrepreneur of sorts, but this is one venture that he need to vacate immediately. For one thing, either his "girls" look too young(some guys like that) or they are as used up as the decrepit sponge on your sink that you use to wash your dishes with. He has offered some of them to me, even the other day saying "Come on HumanityCritic, I will give you to her half off!!" I don't know about you, but when it comes to inserting a part of your body into someone elses, the last thing you want is a fucking discount. Besides, I'm a germaphobe who would spend about a years worth of doctors visits making sure that I wasn't as diseased as the monkey in "Outbreak" if I was with any of them. The other day sealed the deal when I was playing pool with a friend of mine and saw Stan with one of his "girls", who was fine as shit. I was feeling frisky, started talking shit to the woman in question, but literally started running when that broad licked the side of my face. Her tongue was like sandpaper, like a cat's, to the point that I went back to my friend and said that her tongue was "as grainy as the zapruder film!"(Peace Iselfra) Besides the quality, or lack-thereof of his women, they show him disrespect that I thought pimps shouldn't put up with. They call him an "asshole", they give him a very low percentage of the money they earn, sometimes not paying him at all. He insists that he has things under control when I say, in a very pimp voice, "You betta keep your hoes in check like they're on the payroll!", but his girls are pimping him it seems. Granted, if I was a pimp I wouldn't beat on women primarily because of it being wrong and cowardice, but I would at least scare the shit out of them. But then again, I would never be a pimp so why am I even going there??

The Local Newsman: This one shouldn't really count because the gentleman in question is decent at his particular job, but I'm trying to find out if I should extort him. Let me explain. There is a local black newsman here who has been working at one of our local television stations for at least 5 years. He's kind of corny but he does a pretty decent job, but he always irritated the shit out of my because it looked like Stevie Wonder, while on a heroin binge, cut his motherfucking hair. I guess it wouldn't be so bad if it was a hairpiece, but the fact that this thing that resembled the hair on a baboons ass was sitting on top of his head was naturural was somewhat distressing. I used to turn the channel immediately because it was just so damn difficult to look at, it got to the point that I said that I would curse him the fuck out if I ever saw his non metrosexual ass. Fast forward a few years and I go to a party that my home-girl Joy is throwing, she is a hairstylist. I go to the party, mixed with ghetto fabulous hairstylists, gay hairstylists, it was a pretty mixed bag. Who do I see sitting on a couch, hugged up with two pretty young looking dudes but that motherfucking newsman with the horrible hair. Pretty drunk, knowing that I wanted to call him out on his bad taste in barbers, while pointing I could only muster the following drivel out of my mouth:" Yo, Yo!! Hahaha! YO, Yo!!" Looking back I didn't really understand the horrified look on his face until recently.

I have seen him at a few sports bars that I frequent and he has made it his business to casually converse with me, and try to buy me and whoever I am with drinks. I was wondering where the kindness was coming from, until one time he asked, "You aren't going to tell anyone that I'm gay right? You looked like you were going to tell the world that night at your friends party." Thinking back on how "Yo, Yo!! Hahaha! YO, Yo!!" would have looked to a locally famous closeted gay man I said: "I don't give a fuck if you are gay or not, I just want to know who cuts your motherfucking hair man!!" Then I ushered him to a near-by mirror and said, "No one has told you about this?? If people said that your hairstyle looks good, well, motherfucker they aren't your friends!!" He giggled nervously, as to imply that he would take my disrespect as long as I didn't "out" him. But now it sucks because he doesn't buy me or my crew drinks anymore when I see him out, I guess that is one of the downsides to not being a homophobe.

Rob the Bouncer: Personally, I could never be a bouncer because I simply have the wrong temperament for it. A bouncer, just like a martial arts discipline, should be used as a last resort. I could see myself popping someone in the mouth for being too loud, or arguing, or just standing too fucking close to me. I couldn't be one because I'm too aggressive, but Rob is "rubbish" at his job because he is too passive. It is my theory that if you see two people in a heated argument destined for fisticuffs, that you as the bouncer walk up and throw one of them out. That simple. Not Rob, he will let the two individuals argue the whole night, he might separate them only to have them arguing again later. One night when I wasn't at the bar a guy was causing trouble, and instead of beating the brakes off of that bastard, Rob called the cops. Cops?? Calling the boys in blue is only reserved for armed gunmen ready to go on a killing spree, not some drunk hillbilly upset that his Billy Ray Cyrus album has gone missing. Another time some drunk asshole was in Rob's face for about 15 minutes, talking shit to him while damn near threatening his life. I think I embarrassed Rob when I grabbed a chair and broke over the back of the man in question, screaming "Put that motherfucker down Rob!! What are you waiting for!!" Rob is a great guy, but he needs to think about getting into another line of work, like a Priest of a Yoga instructor.

Monday, November 28, 2005

She's just not that into you...

The other day I was thinking about the benefits of being an insufferable prick. A few of them include the cathartic feeling you have when you tell someone off, the priceless look you get after hitting a gentleman who didn't think that his shit talking would have him getting the business end of a fist, or any random chaos you cause when you lack a conscious. All the therapy in the world can't cure me of being an asshole, and I am secure with that fact because I only reserve my venom for the evil forces of the world.

But, unfortunately, there is a definite downside to being an asshole as well. For one thing, like any asshole like me will tell you, it is damn near impossible to feel pity for myself because every bad thing that happens to me is just chalked up as "Karma". My car breaks down, it's because that time I poured sugar in that kids gas tank in high school or that time I went all "Barry Bonds" on a guy's car who ran a light and smashed mine up. My personal struggle to find quality Hip Hop, that is because the many years that I shifted into prick mode and openly told certain up and coming Hip Hop artists, to their face, that they "suck". So you can imagine the new and innovative ways that Karma puts her foot in my behind when it comes to having a relationship. A girl cheats on me, that's because that time I fucked my co-workers fiancee.(He used to beat her though, so I "beat" her in other ways. ahem.) A woman that I am courting stops calling, its because the many times that I have done the exact same thing to some miscellaneous woman who somehow found chubby black bloggers who chronically masturbate appealing. If some woman that I am dealing with loses interest in me, and begins to have the same emotional attachment that one would have to an old pair of sneakers, that is because of the countless women that I have lost interest in because of my ADD or they were simply boring the piss out of me. That's Karma folks, and that bitter broad means business.

I guess I said all of that to confront an issue my friend Brian has concerning a woman that he is currently dating. After he told me the numerous things that she did or didn't do, the words "Dude, she just not into you" escaped my mouth. I know, that guy who was on Oprah came out with that Book "He's just not that into you" where he tries to alert woman about uninterested men.(The book should have been called, "Is your ass blind?", "Stevie Wonder can see that he doesn't give a fuck about you!", or "Act like you have an I.Q above room temperature, Jackass!", because of the way he states the fucking obvious) So I thought that I would provide a helpful guide for men who really have honorable intentions, giving them some quick tips in finding out if that "special woman" really likes you or is full of shit.

Uncomfortable Conversations: If I came out and gave a blanket generalization that women could talk your ear off if you let them, there would be a lynch mob of female readers outside my house wanting to do bodily harm to me.(Or worse, burn my porn collection) But based on my personal dating experience, if a woman is really into you she will tell you how her day went, her problems with her mother, the reason she has abandonment issues, and any other random fact about her in specific detail to the point that you would expect her to pull out blueprints and shit. But I embrace a woman that likes to talk, especially during the courting period because it means that she is comfortable with me and that's a good thing. The problem lies, especially over the phone, when the uncomfortable silence becomes habitual, like when I tell women to "scram" after a 2 minute lovemaking session. It becomes more problematic when you try to invent conversation, offering her questions that require a lengthy answer, only to get 1 to 4 word responses. Personally, because I am feel as insecure and inadequate as George Bush and Dick Cheney in a room of Vietnam veterans, I start to question myself. "Am I boring her?", "Maybe she doesn't like me?", "Maybe telling her that her mother has delicious tits rubbed her the wrong way?", are some of the questions I start to ask myself. Granted, there is a chance that the woman herself could be boring as shit, but chances are that she would rather have a tonsillectomy than hang out with your ass. Take it as a loss, get a few lap dances to validate your existence as a man, then move on to someone who digs for you.

Indecent Proposal: Ladies, you know that a guy isn't marriage material if he openly talks about fucking your sister, taping the two of you having sex on film and putting it on his blog, or eating Macaroni and cheese off your body because of some weird food fetish that he has.(Take it from me, I've tried those things) It's my experience that many people, regardless of their actions, really know the difference between what is "right" and what is "wrong" in a relationship. For example, say you are a recovering alcoholic, and all she talks about is getting shitfaced with her friends and the fun she had throwing up, chances are she has the same feeling for you as she does her doormat, indifferent. If she says something like, "Oh yeah, I'm going to be hanging with my ex. I know we almost got married, but nothings going on though. Trust me. Oh yeah, did I mention that we are sleeping in the same bed, but naked, high on Ecstasy while a porn tape is playing in the background. We're just friends though!", its time for you understand that it would be easier dating a porn star, at least she would be honest about that bored look in her eyes when you are on top of her and the other men that she's fucking. Simply put, if someone brings something to your attention that wouldn't be acceptable in any other form of reality imaginable, it's probably time to get the fuck out of Dodge.

It's all about the words baby!: People reveal themselves, or their true feelings on something based on how they specifically word things. For example, I once dated a woman, when discussing our future date over the phone, would end the discussion with, "After we go out on the town, I have to go right home because I have to get up early in the morning". Basically saying, "Hey pudgy, I don't mind you spending your cash on me, but if you think I'm letting you nakedly sweat on me for a few uninteresting moments you have another thing coming!!" Someone saying how "cool" you are, constantly insisting on "lunch dates" instead of "dinner dates", their openness about guys that hit on her, and shit like that are pretty good signs that she rather tell you about guys she's fucking instead of letting you take over that particular job. Women are also more visual, and have a very Nostradamus view of their future, so if in a conversation she says something like, "What kind of woman do you see being with next? What type of woman do you think you want?" Huh?? I thought WE were dating, I want YOU, I thought me spending 200 dollars for dinner and not having sex showed you that YOU'RE my type asshole. It's all about the words, just listen closely.

Body Language: I love women, besides their wisdom and their grace, they are sensual beings in all aspects of the word. Whenever I have dated a woman that actually liked my brand of bullshit, if I was to put my arm around her or hold her hand, my advances were welcomed. For women who find said advances frightening, even if they don't say anything verbally, their body language gave it away immediately. Like this one time I was dating a woman and went in for a kiss, she turned her head like I was a complete stranger.(Full disclosure: I had just came from a strip club where a dancer, mistakenly and rather innocently, rubbed her vaginal piercing on my face. This could have been the reason, but I don't particularly think so.) Or this one time that I attempted to hold the hand of a woman that I was with one night, she yanked her hand in disgust while giving me a menacing look. It's all about body language.(Full Disclosure again: She had just witnessed me getting a number. In a club that she frequents. The woman was a nemesis of hers. But that couldn't have been it though) But seriously, the body language that they give off while in your presence says everything.

In no particular rush: There are many highly intelligent women who read this blog, of many walks of life and different backgrounds, so what I am about to say is based solely on personal experience. But, would I be wrong, based on that personal experience, to say that women are more eager to enter a relation than men? Looking back at the women that I would one day call my girlfriend, they were ready to label it a "relationship" a lot longer than I was. Fellas, if after a few months you are the one that wants to stomp the gas pedal on the relationship highway and she keeps putting on the emergency break, she's probably not that into you. I know there are many reasons why a woman might not want to pursue relationships, but if there isn't a real good reason given and you feel yourself dangling in limbo like Usher's acting career, you might want to reassess your current situation. This one woman acted so indifferent about any future we would have together or me as a man, I felt that I was bugging the shit out of her, damn near on a stalker level.(I didn't even send her love letters in blood, or camp out in front of her house. Sorry Rosario) So men, if you have a history of avoiding relationships the same way Courtney Love avoids showers, and you are dating a woman who treats the prospect of a relationship with you with the same indifference one would have towards neckties, assume two things: 1. Karma has her stiletto lodged in a very hidden orifice of yours and 2: She's just not that into you.

Thursday, November 24, 2005

Just Cut the fucking Turkey already!!

I still remember it like it was yesterday, me sitting in Mrs. Thompson's 5th grade class, hoping that she wouldn't call on me because of my throbbing chubby that I obtained after staring at Lisa Stanton and her tight sweater. I had learned about Thanksgiving in previous classes, the fairy tale about the pilgrims coming over and breaking bread with the Indians, possibly sharing the peace pipe afterwords. Even though it was passed off to impressionable youths like myself as fact, it always had a "Little Red Riding Hood" fictitious feel to it. This particular year, in this 5th grade class, would be one of the first times that I would aggressively question an authority figure about what I perceived to be bullshit. See, a very militant neighbor named Vince moved right beside my family, I think he was a Vietnam vet if my memory serves me correctly, and he would talk to me for hours about a plethora of subjects from "the government killing Martin Luther King", "the government creating the Aids Virus to kill off black folks", and what a "sham" Thanksgiving was.

Armed with a new found arsenal, I was prepared to confront my teacher about the lies that her and those of her ilk had perpetrated against impressionable minds like mine. She held up painting of a Thanksgiving celebration, Pilgrims and Indians at a dinner table totally enjoying themselves. She said, "Class, what does Thanksgiving mean to you??" Lisa "Delicious sweater puppets" Stanton raised her hand immediately and blurted out "The importance of sharing, like they are doing in that picture, that's what it means to me". Mrs. Thompson thanked her for her response, then called on Tommy Hansen, who was, let me say, "healthy". With his mouth watering, and a glazed over look in his eye he said, "Turkey, mac and cheese, Candied Yams. I said Turkey right??" "Yes you did", Mrs. Thompson said, "HumanityCritic, what does Thanksgiving mean to you?" I thought about it, paused briefly and said, "Mass genocide, rape, and diseases that ravaged a race, thanks to the pilgrims in that picture there." Outraged, Mrs. Thompson asked me, "Where did you learn that!!?" "The same place I learned about the government killing MLK, my neighbor Vince", I said with pride. Nowadays I just look at it as a day off, to spend with family, stuffing my face while still acknowledging the read history. That episode in Mrs. Thompson's class wasn't the first time that I would do something around or on Thanksgiving day that would be stuck in my memory forever. Here are a few of those incidents.

Meet the "fucker": Even though I have been known to be an insufferable prick, to the point that people have probably prayed for my demise, I have to say that parents absolutely love me. I don't know if they like me because I am a good person, or if it is because I can shovel so much shit that I would make a career conman jealous. Anyway, I was dating a girl named Julia in college, and our relationship got serious enough for her that she invited me to have Thanksgiving dinner with her family. So I get there and it was innocent enough, her mother was gentle and kind, and even though her father was 6'8 and about 300 pounds of ill intended muscle, he was cool with me. The spread was awesome, it was a sea of food stretched out over a humongous table, it was definitely a feast fit for a king. But looking back, I wouldn't care what they specifically had, as long as they had Mac and Cheese(my favorite food) I was OK.(See, I love Mac and Cheese, to the point that I one day want to eat it off one of my lovers instead of whipped cream. I know, I'm a sick fuck) As we devoured the food like we hadn't had a meal in years, the parents asked me questions about myself, and by the reaction they gave they liked my answers. They were actually buying my bullshit, saying complimentary things like me being a "fine young man" and openly asking if I planned on "Marrying their daughter".(I figured it was inappropriate for me to blurt out the truth, that Julia was indeed "Practice Patch")

We finished the meal, cleared the table, and after I went to the toilet to "lose weight" I joined the family to watch the Thanksgiving football game. After about 20 minutes of watching lackluster pigskin, I notice that Julia's parents had fallen asleep. I immediately got a chubby, and gave Julia a "let me fuck you in your parents house" look. She was with it, so we snuck upstairs and proceeded to do the nasty on the same bed that Julia grew up sleeping on. Humping on a single bed is something that a gymnast would find hard to do, but we figured it out as we bumped uglies as silent as we could. Looking around her room at all her childhood interests mid coitus just struck me as funny, so funny in fact that I started to hum the smurf theme in the middle of us making love. "La-la-lala-la la-la-lala-la la", I sang as Julia burst out in fits of laughter. A few minutes later, because she had an abundance of pubic hair that resembled a fury beast, a ran my fingers through it and sang, "Monchee-chee, Monchee-chee, oh so nice and cuddly", making her laugh once again. We were having a great time, at least I know I was because I hadn't ejaculated prematurely for once, but all my glory ceased when I saw Julia's father standing in the doorway. I figured, with his extremely muscular frame and muscle mass from hell, that he would proceed to detach my head from my body. But he was calm, and simply said "Stop that you two and come downstairs", and left the room. The weird thing is that he didn't kick me out, or lecture me about my blatant disrespect, we just continued watching football like nothing happened. The one weird thing is that he mentioned me singing that smurf song and the monchee-chee one, which freaked me the fuck out because a couple minutes passed between the two songs. Meaning that sick fuck was standing there watching!! Talk about having some thighs on Thanksgiving.

"..and the Chicken tastes like wood": More than a decade ago, when I was an aspiring rapper, I spent one of my first Thanksgivings away from home. See, we were in New York recording some songs and meeting with record executives to jump start our rap careers. Not knowing anyone in the area to mooch some Thanksgiving grub off of, we ended up spending it with the family of a girl that my band-mate was having sex with at the time. Even though the woman in question lived in an area that was as safe as Beirut, I didn't care because I was literally at that time a starving artist. We go inside the house and my appetite was shrinking as what I saw started to seep into my subconscious. For one thing the house smelled like an old ass cabinet, like a old persons house that had been abandoned for years. The girls mother looked good for her age, but she wore so much perfume it seemed that she chose to because she despised showers. The grandmother, a sweet woman, smelled like a toilet in a punk rock club because of her adult diaper that needed to be desperately changed. Despite all of those seemingly insurmountable circumstances, I was still willing to get my grub on.

You know you have questionable food in front of you when you can't tell what the fuck something is. You also know that the food is horrible when you start eating the "safe" shit first, buns, corn, etc. When I gathered enough courage to eat the turkey, I wasn't surprised that the bird traditionally served on this day tasted like a new leather belt. It got to the point that I started quoting "Rappers Delight" saying: "So your heart starts pumping and you think of a lie and say you already ate/ and your friend says man there's plenty of food so you pile some more food on your plate" My friends laughed hysterically as I referenced a Hip Hip classic where the MC talks about eating some horrible food at a friends house. The girls mother, the resident MILF, starts asking me personal questions like if I had a girlfriend or not while rubbing my leg. I think that I would have been aroused because she was a older hottie, but the mixture of the uneatable food and nasty perfume stench had my black ass hallucinating like I had just taken a hit of acid. She left the table to pour me and my friends some holiday drinks, so I thought I would quote "Rappers Delight" once again. I rapped: "Have you ever went out to a friends house to eat and the food ain't just no good/i mean the macaroni's soggy and the peas are mushed and the chicken tastes like wood". Again we burst into laughter based on our current situation, as the mother comes into the room with drinks in hand, asking us what were we laughing at. We blow off that question, and proceed to drink up most of her liquor that she served up that night, getting completely shitfaced.

As I helped her clean the dishes, she said "I know that you guys were talking bad about my cooking. I know "Rappers Delight" motherfucker, who doesn't?? I'm pretty offended." I felt very small at that point, and was searching for something to say when she interrupted with "...but you're cute though so I'll forgive you this time." I suddenly felt that I had to make amends for the disrespect that I had showed her in her house, but I didn't know what to do until I looked down at her cleavage momentarily. I won't go into explicit detail about what I did or didn't do to her in her kitchen that night, but lets just say that I was smelling her perfume on my body for weeks, regardless of how much I scrubbed my body.

Tuesday, November 22, 2005

A Few Reasons Why I could Never become President

The other day, as I rambled about politics at a local watering hole that I frequent, a young woman overheard my conversation posed a question that has stuck to me like Tom Cruise and gay rumors. As I talked about Dick Cheney's 5 Vietnam deferments and how he doesn't the right to question anyone's "backbone", the dirty campaigning that was run by Jerry Kilgore here in Virginia that cost him the election, and a few other random political tidbits, she asked: "Have you ever thought about getting into politics?? Don't you want to be president one day?" I laughed it off at first, rambled something about "not wanting to get assassinated while giving my presidential acceptance speech", and kept buying her shots hoping that I would do things with her that would force me to the clinic in a paranoid fit of hypochondria. After she had thrown up and told me that she was a lesbian, it finally sunk in that I would spend another lonely masturbatory night at home. When I got home and opened my porn closet(angelic music actually comes on when I open the door) and tried to figure out which selection would be best used for "stroke material"(They are all alphabetized by the way), the question that she posed popped back into my head. I thought about all the perks being the President would bring my way, but reality, being the cruel motherfucker it is, crept up on me and I realized that I could never be president. Here are a few reasons why.

There is a sex tape of me floating around: Well, maybe. A girl that I was casually seeing did something that no woman before or since has agreed to do with me, have sex on tape. I remember asking her about it, awaiting her to say what every woman says, "No way, what if it gets out!!". So you can imagine my surprise when she agreed to do it, and since she had a video camera we were half way there and shit. But as the realization of having sex on tape set in, pre-mature ejaculation, the camera adding 15 pounds, questionable technique, growling sounds when I "climax", asking my lover to sing the Umpa-Loompa song as I reciprocate oral, so I didn't bring it up again and desperately hoped that she would forget about it. Fast forward a month later, after we had both attended her friends birthday party where I was high as a kite, she taped our lovemaking session that particular night. I mean, that's what she said, because of the mixture of Jack Daniels, melted Hops, some jello shooters and marijuana, I couldn't remember that night if you held a gun to my head. I felt that I should be pissed by her violating me in such a way, not being told that I was being recorded, expressing my outrage that she would do such a thing. But I came to my senses, realized that I am a lecherous prick and quickly got over it.

So for the next few days we were playing phone tag, trying to link up and watch the tape together, then one day she said, "HumanityCritic, I lost the tape.." Just thinking about the world seeing why I am insecure about my penis, I lost it, screaming "What!!!! You have got to be kidding me!!" Then, I guess shocked at my reaction she said, "Naww, I'm just kidding. I never recorded us having sex." I pressed her about it for a few minutes, thinking that her sudden "admission" was a bit too convenient, but that has been the story that she has stuck with the whole time. Who knows, she could be telling the truth and didn't record us, but I have the sneaking feeling that somewhere there is a group of women laughing their ass off at a 2 minute porn where I'm high as hell, bopping my head to Willy Wonka songs, and growling at the end of it. Yeah, that could hurt my political aspirations.

Incriminating pictures: I had a friend named Nancy who is a photographer who I have known most of my life. She is talented, and her career has taken off and I couldn't be happier. Sort of. If I ever decide to run for office she could be one of the main reasons that my political career will be derailed by would be saboteurs. See, Nancy had documented our friendship over the years with pictures that she has taken with the both of us, or me, in various situations. The pictures are a work of art, not based on my miserable mug but her talent, the problem is that some of them show me doing things that I'm not proud of. She has a lovely picture of me smoking weed at a birthday party one year, along with one where I am rolling up a joint laughing hysterically. Even though this particular photo was one of me being silly, but she has a picture of me after I put some flower on my face acting like I was in a coke induced fit. Not to mention a lovely array of photographs of scuffles that I have gotten into when she was around, the one of me hitting a dude in a Santa Claus Costume at a Christmas Party is quite festive. The real problem is that Nancy and I had a falling out because I had told her that she shouldn't marry a guy who I thought was a douche bag, and when I turned out to be right I think she resented me for it. Listen, I'm not saying that Nancy would sell those photos to cripple my campaign, but I have learned never to put anything past anyone.

I'm Single: I have come to the conclusion that I will probably be single for the rest of my life. I'm not against marriage, I actually would embrace spending the rest of my life with someone, but when I look at my idiosyncrasies and how irritated people make me I just can't see it. My paranoia and distrust of people is pretty crippling, and sometimes I feel that people I like don't feel the same way about me, so I will possibly be "the old guy in the club" as Chris Rock so succinctly put it. That being said, I just feel that people wouldn't elect a president that was single in my honest opinion. That's probably a good thing though, because the press would go crazy photographing miscellaneous women getting kicked out of the White House at all hours of the night, half dressed. Or reporters, instead of asking me serious political questions about trade agreements or nuclear arms, they would ask, "So, what's up with Mariah Carey?? She said you dumped her, thoughts??" I can really see me letting my supporters down when I address my republican critics with a speech entitled, "Don't worry about who I'm fucking!!" A nuclear strike might occur if I haven't had some in a while and was on edge. Plus, people would hate interviewing me, because after each interview I might tell the reporter, "Nice tits, what are you doing later??" Not really presidential.

My inability to let things go: When you think of a Commander in Chief you think of someone with integrity, maturity, and a level of diplomacy that is virtually unparalleled. The problem that I see with being the future president of the United States is that I would want to retort anything said about me, either by using insults or threats of violence. Fidel Castro decides that he wants to make some fiery speech condemning me, I simply hold a press conference where in it I say something equating to "That old man doesn't want to get his geriatric ass beaten." Kim Jong Ill decides to threaten the United States in a very subtle manner, I set up a peace conference where I travel all the way to some neutral location to meet him, get in the same room together and put him in a full nelson, screaming "What was that shit you were talking again? Say that to my face you deranged fuck!!" If my presidential opposition decides to say some slick shit to me while we are in the middle of a debate, I don't really see how me jumping over his podium to get to him or threatening to shove a microphone up his ass will get me elected.

Thursday, November 17, 2005

Has Hip Hop turned into Professional Wrestling??

As a hyperactive kid with the attention span of Robin Williams on cooked cocaine, nothing soothed my restless soul the way professional wrestling did. The same way being under the influence of something given to me by a local horticulture aficionado while watching a strippers breasts affects me now, nothing held my fascination like grown ass men hitting each other with chairs and shit. I can't tell you how many adolescent douche-bags I put a camel clutch on, or clotheslined mercilessly, or hit in the back with a chair in some random lunchroom because of the influence wrestling had on me. Watching Sargent Slaughter, Jimmy "Superfly" Snuka, Hulk Hogan, Leaping Lenny Poffo, the Iron Sheik, even Junkyard Dog.(I say "even" because my father didn't want me cheering for JYD, he would say "Why do they have the black guy being a fucking dog, I better not hear you cheer for that motherfucker". So around him I didn't, but around my friends I did.)

Even when my father said that "It wasn't real" I didn't particularly care, because these guys were skilled athletes and they were entertaining as fuck. Besides the athleticism behind it, with flying off the top rope and landing on their opponent making it look like they are crippling them but not really hurting them, and all the holds they had to perform and the choreography behind it, the best part was when the wrestlers would get in front of the microphone and talk shit about their next opponent. Like Randy Savage used to do in his pre-fight interview: "Ohhh Yeaah Hogan, I'm going to put a hurting on you like no man has felt before. Oooh Yeah, that's right brother, Your going down like Lil Kim in cell block D. Bring it Hogan, by the way, step into a motherfucking slim Jim!!!"(Minus the Kim and slim Jim reference obviously)

Hip Hop has kind of become like that to me, meaning the "every motherfucker has to have some back-story as their selling point and it's not real" part. Listen, back-stories have been around for as long as I remember, when Big Bank Hank on "Rappers Delight," said "..I got a Lincoln Continental and a sunroof Cadillac", we knew that he didn't have that shit. When NWA talked about gangsta life, shoot outs, killing cops, and any form of criminality that you can imagine, we all knew that they didn't do that shit.(Ice Cube came from a middle class family and was planning on going to college) Kool G Rap is a tough guy but we all know that he hasn't killed anyone(I think..), Nas either, or Jay-Z and any other guy who has lyrics depicting violence in some sort or another. I know this is going to sound crazy, but I don't mind a back-story with the individuals that I named because they actually had talent so it didn't matter to me. I mean, as long as you were a good M.C I could give a flying fuck what image you were trying to push upon the public. Give me a blazing 16 bars, a banging beat, dope flow, and you could claim to have bodies in your freezer and masturbate to "Golden Girls" episodes for all I care.

Granted, not much has changed concerning rappers having a back-story like professional wrestlers, but now it is more of an irritant because they don't have any recognizable talent to back it up. This became apparent a while ago when I tried to get to know a woman who worked for Def Jam "biblicly". I wined her, dined her, wanted to nakedly be behind her(Isn't that a Ice Cube lyric?), and probably could have sealed the deal if I lied and told her that I liked that motherfucker "Young Jeezy". See, for a while she was telling me about an artist on Def Jam named "Young Jeezy" and how "dope" he was. I knew something was up when she never went into detail about his lyrical skill, but went on and on about his background in the drug game and criminal past. As we both sat in her apartment sipping wine, knowing that within minutes I would get to see parts of her body that only her mother, doctors, and probably a million other motherfuckers like myself would get to see, she said a sentence that still haunts me when I'm horny as fuck: "Let me play you some Young Jeezy!" Sounds like an innocent enough sentence, she said he was "dope" and she had pretty good taste, I figured that this was just a speed bump en route to my cruising down the "Vagina Highway".

She played it, and like any Hip Hop fan with legitimate taste will tell you, you can tell that someone is garbage by their first line. The more I heard the madder I got, thinking about how she tried to sell me on his back-story like he was "The Rock" and shit, I suddenly wanted to put her in a wrestling move and make her wack music liking ass submit. After she played this Hip Hop monstrosity to me she asked me, "So HumanityCritic, what do you think? Dope isn't it" I knew that saying "It's wack" would prevent me from getting acquainted with her bedsheets and possible future late night visits where I drunkenly hump her and raid her fridge. I also knew that I needed ass, this girl was smoking, above my pay grade smoking, and lying to her and saying that it was quality music would break my streak of fucking chicken-heads that I won't let my boys meet.

It was quite the dilemma, I even thought that I heard that Jeopardy music in the background as I made my final answer, but in the name of Hip Hop, graph artists, B-Boys, and everyone that held true MC'ing close to their hearts I said: "To be honest, that shit sucks!! He's "dope"? Dope meaning that you would have to freebase cocaine in order to find his shit enjoyable, then I agree!" Her face dropped and that "I'm about to give your chubby ass some of this booty" look disappeared from her face and suddenly a "How can I get this dreadlocked bastard out of my house" look appeared. Suffice it to say I rarely talked to her again, so obviously me ever having sex with her was out of the question. So inadvertently, Young Jeezy cock-blocked me, non rapping fuck!

I'm not focusing in on Young Jeezy, but I went into that ass-less tale because rappers having some intricate back-story without the skill to back it up seems to be the trend nowadays. I guess 50 cent would be the obvious example of this because him getting shot 9 times and his drug dealing past is as important to some as any lyric that he ever put to paper. I know that he REALLY did get shot, and I guess he sold drugs, but when did your past become more important than your lyrical ability. Why is it only in Hip Hop that you find this idiocy, you don't go to a mechanic to get a new engine put in your car and his selling point was that he once was in a gang and pimped on the side. As long as that fucker knew what he was doing and was highly qualified, that's all that would matter. You don't go to a doctor to have major surgery and the reason why you chose him is because he once sold drugs and went to jail because of it. That shit is ridiculous.

Then you see people like Kanye West who doesn't really have a intricate back-story become successful, and he is hated on mercilessly by many, especially those who fancy themselves "Hip Hop writers." Listen, I'm not a Kanye West fan, but I look at him like the current war on Iraq, let me explain: Even though I can relate to why many people despise him and want to hate on him(Saddam), but there are people who are trying to damage Hip Hop and is the cause for its demise, so wouldn't your hatred be better focused on those individuals?(Osama-Lil John, Mike Jones, or those subpar fucks who sing that "I think they like me" bullshit) Just my two cents.

The sad thing is that I have heard people that I respect like Russel Simmons, go on and on about how important it was for a rapper to have a compelling story to be successful. Personally, no disrespect Russ, but I think that is bullshit because if I learned that a dude lived in his mothers basement, or had some fat trust fund, the only thing that I would care about is if he was dope or not. No back-stories. No costumes. No pre fight shit talking. If I wanted to see those things I would watch professional wrestling and relive my youth, possibly putting someone in a figure four leg-lock for old times sake.(I found out that applying said leg-lock to a lover is the quickest way to make her an "ex" lover. Just a helpful hint from HC.)

Wednesday, November 16, 2005

"Don't Do That!!!" A Few of my Sexual idiosyncrasies

Over the past year, besides the haters and overall miscreants, I would say that there are more positives than negatives when it comes to having a blog. The cool people you encounter, the interesting blogs that you are introduced to, I don't have much to complain about when it comes to documenting my life on the world wide web. Except, I have one tiny complaint that has haunted me a few times, because people that I know who read my blog interrupt me during my stories because they have read about it already. Nothing makes you feel more uninteresting, and geeky by the way, then to have someone interrupt you and say, "Wait, didn't I read that in your October 13th entry??" Recently I had my eye on one of my cousins friends, with visions of inappropriately smacking her ass mid coitus, knowing that it would be over rather quickly but acting like a stallion for approximately 2 minutes and 35 seconds.(Yes, I have timed myself) Well, when I tried to dazzle her with one of my rogue-like philosophies that I figured would amaze her to no end, she said that she had already heard that on my blog. FUCK!!

But worst of all is when someone goes into your archives, finds something that you have written, and label you a "hypocrite" based on their personal experiences with you. See, a while ago I briefly dated a woman who was in the medical profession, and because of her constant unavailability and my penchant for blogging and Internet porn our "relationship" was strictly a sexual one. Anyway, she called me recently to tell me that not only does she read my blog, but something that I wrote in this piece prompted her to giggle and call me a hypocrite. Even though the piece was obviously fiction, she found it ironic that I called the sexual experience with Mariah Carey "10 Commandment sex" because of her stringent rules, when I am exactly the same way. We talked for a while as she broke down my specific love making habits and I realized that she was right, my goddmaned blog was my undoing once again. Without being crass and turning this into a erotica blog, here are some "boot knocking" idiosyncrasies that I realized that I have.

Tongue in ear: Ever since experiencing those stolen moments of "first girlfriend" bliss with Marie Rivera, I learned that nothing makes me more uncomfortable than a tongue my ear. I guess a lot of people like this ritual, having a slippery object in your ear squishing around like putting your eardrum in a car-wash, but personally nothing will make me move my head faster than a woman attempting this on me. Besides me just flat out hating it, I would say that being a germaphobe contributes to this dislike, having the nastiest part of your body(mouth) entering a part of the body that has to rank somewhere near the mouth on that particular list. I dated a girl once that felt that she just "had" to do that to me, it was a need, like she had a compulsive disorder or something. Sadly, more times than not I let her do it while I suffered in silence, sort of like a prison rape minus the anal thrusting part. I didn't appease her because I wanted to do whatever I could and be an unselfish lover, sacrificing for the greater good of promoting an orgasm in said lover, I simply did it because she had great tits and for a blogger who masturbates like mad there was no telling when I would get an opportunity like that one again.

Hair Pulling: Looking back on my sexual experiences all I can do is laugh when I think of specific women and their over emotional reactions during sex. The scratching, excessive breathing, and even one time being called "Black Jesus" mid coitus is laughable, but also acceptable. But one thing that I can do without, regardless of how hot the woman is, is hair pulling. Granted, I know that I have grown my locks for 10 years and they are so long that I was recently heard uttering the phrase "you know your hair is getting too long when you have to adjust your hair to wipe your ass!", that doesn't mean I give you permission to pull my hair. Some women get off on in, and they get off on my disapproval even more, prompting one woman to say "Get mad, that's right!" like she was a fucking dominatrix. I not only detest my hair being pulled because it being uncomfortable, but also because it makes me feel like someones bitch.(For someone that is insecure about his size, and the fact that a girl that I was dating was looking at baby pictures with my mom which prompted her to say "Ms. Critic, he is the same size now!!" as both of them laughed hysterically, a brother has maintain a masculine image.)

Body Food: Hey, I'm as freaky as the next guy, I am totally for using whipped cream on women, especially if they have been tested for every STD imaginable and I have talked to everyone that she has ever had sex with.(That's the Germaphobe in me) But sometimes the shit can get out of hand, women bringing so many toppings in the bedroom making a brother feel like a dreaklocked Sundae. Like this one time a woman I was dating used chocolate, whipped cream, sprinkles, Ice cubes, wax, for some reason butter, my body looked like I had just been molested in Willy Wonka's chocolate factory. Things got worse because after you mixed all of those things together it starts to resemble vomit somewhat, a fact that made me sick and lose my lunch on the back of the woman who called herself being "sexually creative".(If you want a woman to never answer your calls, or emails, Morse code, or smoke signals, just vomit on her. Trust me, it works.)

Inappropriate moaning: When you tell a joke to a group of people and one of them laughs a bit too much, don't you want to say "Come on you douche-bag, that shit wasn't that funny"? Well, I can't claim to always know when a woman is faking an orgasm, primarily because you fuckers could win an Oscar for that shit, but I don feel that I can't spot a few "mailed in" performances though. Like this one time that I was having sex with a co-worker(which is wrong for the obvious reasons, but also because your co-workers suddenly start calling you Arsenio "Small" Ala the "Martin" show, which is a definite downside) While I was stroking in a way to make Ron Jeremy proud, or possibly to invoke pity from him, she was yelling like her fucking hair was on fire. At first I thought I was handling my business in a way that only a black blogger could, but after a while I saw past her rouse and figured out that she was faking her pleasurable outbursts. Even though I caught that specific culprit, it makes me wonder how many women I inappropriately giggled at thinking that they were faking it when the whole time she was dead serious. That kind of sucks, but I guess it just add to the "asshole" image so I'm OK with that.

Shut your ass up!!: I guess this sort of files under the "moaning" category also, but excessive talking irritates the piss out of me. I can deal with ramblings that are posed that don't require a specific answer like "Deeper!", "That's the spot baby", "It's yours", or my favorite "I could have used my finger and did more damage than you are doing" But the problem is when people expect answers to questions, like this one time when a chick asked "Do you like this baby??", me thinking that she was just spewing out random sex talk. I knew she wanted a definitive answer when she grabbed me by the head, looked me in the eyes and said "Do-you-like-this-baby??" like I was three years old and shit. I stopped and said, "Yeah I like it, now shut the fuck up asking me questions like I'm in High School.I suddenly feel like I am taking the S.A.T test all over again." But come to think about it I'm pretty anti-social anyway, I'm surprised that I spoke enough to get that woman in a position(pun intended) to have sex with me in the first place, so answering questions during sex is out.

Post game wrap-up: I am a kinder and gentler HumanityCritic, I know that most woman want to be held after sex. I mean, I don't particularly get it and think that me not leaving promptly should be enough of a sign of affection. But, the sensitive guy that I am, I throw my arm over whoever I am with post-sex long enough that they don't think that I am a total scumbag. So yes, I go the extra mile for my ladies. But one thing that I hate is constant post coitus chatter. I mean, I understand that some talking will take place, it's not like I insist that we sit in silence like we are meditating or some shit. It is just when whoever you are with wants to have a full fledged conversation, attacking you with machine like accuracy, making you think about things seriously, something that you don't want to particularly do. A brother has bigger things to worry about like "I hope that rubber didn't have a leak", "Why did this broad have so many condoms in her drawer, does that mean she is loose?", "I wonder if she achieved orgasm during our 3 minutes if fucking", and "I sure hope my Lakers do well this year". Important issues like that have to be thought about and analyzed, I don't want to talk Geo-politics or the women at work that want to get you fired.

Tuesday, November 15, 2005

On the Radio with "The HumanityCritic"

*radio commercial starts*

Announcer: From the same writers who brought you the world renown plays "Hell in a chickenbasket" and "What is your skanky ass doing in Church?", the new ghetto gospel play "Lord, who done drank up all the damn Kool-Aid!!" Staring Nathaniel "Rollo from Sandford and Son" Taylor as Preacher Bob Evans. "Now son, you know better than to drink all the Kool-Aid, especially when it's grape!! Lord have mercy on your soul!!!!!" Co-Starring Daniel "Dee from "What's Happening"" Spencer as the concerned sister: "Ewwww, I'm gonna tell ma!! When she finds out that you drank up all the Kool Aid you are going to get a beating. Ewwww!" Phillip Michael Thomas plays Tyrone the estranged father. "Crokett, I mean Son, I know I wasn't there for you growing up but that doesn't mean that you have to punish me by not leaving Kool Aid for others. You definitely need the lord in your life." Carl Anthony (Cole From "Martin") Payne as the Kool Aid drinker himself, Rufus."I need help yall, the lord is the only one that can deliver me from my addiction to the powder goodness called Kool-Aid. It got to the point that I started masturbating to pictures of the Kool-Aid man. Somebody please help me!" And, in a role that has garnered her one NAACP award, 2 Flee-market awards for actress of the year, and a coveted Rosco's Chicken and Waffle award, Marla(from the "Jefferson's") Gibbs:"Ewww child, I'll be damned if any son of mine finishes any of my Kool-Aid. Jive Turkey!!" Be sure to come to this ghetto gospel extravaganza, brought to you by "Setting the black race back 100 years" productions.

Woman's voice: And now, the man who one woman said was a "horrible lay", another who said was "hung like a toddler", and a third woman who said was a "ok guy". 2 out of 3 ex girlfriends can't be wrong, Ladies and gentleman, the HumanityCritic.

HumanityCritic: Hey folks, welcome to my radio show on WTCF(Throatchop fuckers) FM. Today I will be doing something a bit different, I will be taking some of your calls. The topic of the say is "Disgruntled Employees", so for anyone sick and fucking tired of their job currently, or if just want to call and bitch about something random, feel free. The numbers here is 555-8798, let your voice be heard. (looking down at control board) Wow that's quick, we have our first caller. Caller, where are you calling from?

Caller: I'm calling from Raleigh North Carolina.

HumanityCritic: OK, do you have anything to say about being a disgruntled employee??

Caller: Well, no. I just wanted to tell you that me, along with a few other people who will remain anonymous, hate your fucking blog!!

HumanityCritic: Ok, you are free to your opinion, why do you hate it?

Caller: Because you are full of shit, most of the shit is probably made up! I used to read you but over the past few months I have grown tired of you. You are just a story teller, that's all. What do you think about that?

HumanityCritic: Who cares?? If you believe what I write, cool, I appreciate it. If not, either go about your business or view it as fiction, I could actually care less. Think about it, I am the same guy who has admitted that he can't fit a magnum condom, and comes faster than a speeding bullet, do you think I lay awake at night wondering "So and so feels I am full of shit"? Come on now.

Caller: Well let me tell you something pal, I have started an organization called B.I.T.C.H., Bloggers Internationally Taking Care of HumanityCritic. We will shut you down!!

HumanityCritic: I know about your organization, leaving anonymous comments in a cowardly fashion and shit, discussing me around other bloggers with an agenda of hate. This call is over, but your acronym is rather silly because it can be seen as being complimentary towards me, like my own personal whore harem. Dumb fuck. *Click* Next caller, whats your name and where are you calling from?

Caller: My name is Al, and I'm calling from Philly. I want to talk about being a disgruntled Employee

HumanityCritic: Cool, why are you a disgruntled employee.

Caller: My co-workers don't respect me, the writers make me seem like an A-sexual douche-bag, and if I hear Rudy say another one of his "Like school on a Sunday, no class" lines I swear I'm going to bludgeon that motherfucker!!

HumanityCritic: Fat Albert!!?? I love that show man, I grew up on that shit. What do you have to complain about??

Caller:My name is Albert Wentworth, the "fat" moniker is for the show, get it right asshole. I have plenty of reasons to complain, for one thing I seem to be the butt of everyone's jokes, I have to wear the same shit every episode, and because of how I am portrayed I get hit on by guys when I'm in public. Even though I love the ladies with a passion, People think I'm gay!!

HumanityCritic: Oh stop it, no one thinks that! Why do you say that?

Caller: When a guy has great advice and never gets the girl, what other way do you think people will view him??

HumanityCritic: I guess you have a point. Look on the bright side, you had the movie version to come out which..

Caller:(Interrupting) ...sucked complete ass!! Cosby told me years ago that if he ever did a movie version that I would be like a tubby version of "Shaft" and shit, being in sex scenes with women doing some freaky lesbian shit. Granted, we were both drunk off our asses but that's beside the point. But, not only wasn't I in the movie but they banned me from the set which was bullshit.

HumanityCritic: Yeah that sucks, I don't know what to tell you dude. We have to take our next caller.

Caller: I didn't call for your fucking help, just to vent. By the way, do you know the quality of ass I get when I tell people who I am?? It's sad man, but then I guess it could be worse, I could tell people that I was the "Black Blogger of the Year! hee-hee!"

HumanityCritic: Hey, hey!! That's about enough out of you. *Click* Next Caller, what's your name and what do you want to talk about??

Caller: My name is Chuck, and since I heard my homeboy Al call in I thought I would chime in.

HumanityCritic: OK, shoot.

Caller: Well, I am also a disgruntled employee. It's horrible man, I have a co-worker that torments me, another one that hardly washes his ass, a chick that continuously smells like weed, and my bosses are racist because there is only one black guy in the cast, my homeboy Fraklin.

HumanityCritic: Ahh, Charlie Brown!! Go into it a bit more if you don't mind.

Caller: OK. It's downright embarrassing, always falling for the "hiding football" trick is getting so fucking tired. I know Shultz tried to make me the "lovable loser" and everything, rest in peace, but it has wrecked my sex life. When getting ready to make love, if one more chick moves her vagina away giggling before insertion, I'm going to shoot myself.

HumanityCritic: It can't be that bad man, people love that show.

Caller: They wouldn't love it if they knew that Snoopy was a goddamn diva, constantly showing up late to work smelling like he had been with some stale ass hookers, still coked up. They wouldn't still like the show if they knew that Lucy was a bona fide freak, she ran through the cast until Pigpen gave her a nasty infection.(Even though I think Franklin is "tapping that" currently) Lastly, if Peppermint Patty sells me one more bullshit bag of weed I think I'm going to narc her ass out.

HumanityCritic: Damn Chuck, you're fired up today..

Caller: Damn right, I am a classically trained actor, but every year they show that miserable Halloween episode where I keep getting rocks..

HumanityCritic: I love that one, hee-hee

Caller: See what I mean?? I get no respect, you don't understand my plight!! Fuck you.. Oh yeah, your blog sucks man and I'm going to be a new member of B.I.T.C.H you, you, bitch!! *click*

HumanityCritic: Another satisfied customer, that concludes our radio show for today. Tune in next time when we will be discussing how Hip Hop has sort of turned into professional wrestling. You know, with rappers needing a compelling back story and shit. See ya next time.

(Theme music closes the show out)

A brief rant about a good show and a bad one.

The Good: Being the television lover that I am, I have been quite disappointed with many of the shows that have come out over the past couple of years. But this season, a show has come on that I think is remarkably funny and well written. That show, is "My Name is Earl" starring Jason Lee of "Chasing Amy" and "Dogma" fame. The show is about a lifelong loser, "Earl", who has spent the most of his existence stealing, swindling, and doing whatever he can to get over. That was until the day that he purchased a lottery ticket and won 100,00 dollars. Being that he got hit by a car as he learned that he won the money, he figured that it was a act of Karma and that he should use the money to make amends with everyone that he has wronged by making a list of those people. Each week, he attempts to check off one of the people off his list by finding the person who he wronged, and doing whatever it takes to make it right.(One episode he had to make amends with a woman that he once dated, and in a cowardly attempt faked his death to break up with her. Funny as shit) The writing is outstanding, it is definitely something that I suggest. The show Co-Stars Ethan Suplee, Jamie Pressly, Nadine Velazquex, and that guy from the OfficeMax commercials Eddie Steeples.

The Bad: I know that Comedy Central is probably feeling the effects from their post Chappelle Hangover, so I can see where they might be in a transitional period. But, in my opinion, if you are a television executive you should stay away from Adam Carolla at all cost. A few weeks ago, probably due to my insomnia or waiting to touch myself to late night "Skinamax", I caught "Too Late with Adam Carolla". I have to say, this guy is as funny as a prison rape, which makes me wonder how he got this gig. Usually the audience will work with you and give you "pity laughter" even if you suck, but this miserable bastard is so unfunny that the show is filled with uncomfortable pauses from the audience.(I know that sound, its the same sound I hear after I tell a lover, "That was great, you can go now, I don't believe in reciprocity) I don't know what executives' body part Mr. Carolla had to put his mouth on to get said gig, but I don't think a mouth-hug exists that is so good for him to keep his job.

Friday, November 11, 2005

An Ode to the "Posse Cut"

The other day I was asked to guest appear on a "Posse Cut" that would be on my friend Alex's demo, he is an up and coming rapper. What is a "Posse Cut" you ask? It's a Hip Hop song where different artists or groups come together to release their verbal stylings over that particular track. Anyways, I spent a week crafting my verse, injecting metaphors, similes, perfecting my delivery, even sprinkling a little bit of alliteration over said verse. I get to the studio with an arrogance that Terrel Owens would cringe at as I proceeded to record my verse like it was the best thing since collard greens or Internet porn. When we all heard the finished product I was sort of happy with my performance even though I did sound like a 13 year old Caucasian boy, but that could be my "gimmick" and make me millions and shit. As we sat there, between trying to keep a mental checklist of who had the best verse, I reminisced about some of my favorite Posse cuts that I feel are the best of all time. With this list, as with most of my opinions on Hip Hop, people will definitely disagree with many of my choices. But then again I am a black man that skateboards, loves Hip Hop, has a crush on Janeane Garofalo, digs Kevin Smith movies, and masturbates with the same passion of a man that has recently been told that they are about to amputate his "stroke" hand, so I am used to people not following my path.(Sidenote: My mother called and asked what I was writing and I told her that I was doing a post about "Posse Cuts". She replied, "Why in the world would you want to talk about the abrasions on a woman's vagina??" I said "POSSE" cuts Ma, "POSSE")

"The Symphony":(Craig G, Masta Ace, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane): This by far is my favorite Posse Cut of all time, probably considered a favorite to most people who call themselves Hip Hop purists. When this song came out I was in High School, listening to this track over and over, reciting the verses verbatim like I was a actual member of the "Juice Crew". The piano loop, the head-nodding drum pattern, it made it pretty easy for a novice MC like myself to perfect my rhyme style whenever this song was playing. From Marley Marl's classic "I don't care who's first or whose last" intro, Masta Ace's effortless opening verse, Craig G holding it down with his precise verse, Kool G rap bringing lyrical terror with his contribution, and Big Daddy Kane taking it home with a line that I would quote until this day: "Put a quarter in your ass 'cause you played yourself" Over the years I consistently thought that Kane had the best verse, but now I obviously see that Kool G Rap's verse reigns superior.("Making veterans run for medicine/ cause I put out more lights in a fight than Con Edison" That's beautiful man) This song is also the cause for me saying something that would get me labeled a "dickhead" for life. See, a local artist got into a beef with Masta Ace, one of the MC's on this song, to the point that they battled and the rapper in question(Boogie) was supposedly the victor. One of his boys was telling me about it, bragging about how Boogie took out Masta Ace, all this was flashing a shit eating grin. I shut him up when I said the following. "But at the end of the day, Masta Ace will still be Masta Ace, the guy in one of the best Posse Cuts ever, and Boogie will be some bastard who never made it, telling his kids about a legend he 'once battled'. Fuck Boogie!" Yes, I'm an asshole
Listen to the track here.

"Scenario":(A Tribe Called Quest, Leaders of the New School) No song that I know of, whether I am talking to a woman kind enough to consider showing me her naked body, or me shitfaced talking shit to some miscellaneous asshole, will get me on the dance-floor and propel me back to 1992 like this joint. Two of my favorite groups at the time, A Tribe Called Quest and Leaders of the New School, got together on this song and made bona fide hip Hop history. That driving beat, that deep baseline, and the way that each MC slides over the track with a sort of graceful fury that leaves me astounded to this day. I still remember the Spike Lee directed video, which I still think was revolutionary and ahead of its time. Most people that I know, myself included, agree that Busta's verse was the best of all because of the way the song seemed to build up to his part. I'm not sure about this, but didn't Busta land his solo deal based on him performing this song on the Arsenio Hall show?? This song was my shit, but I always found a strange parallel between Tribe and Leaders because they both had members that hardly did anything, or in Tribe's case a member that was gone after the first album.(see jarobi and Milo)
Listen to the Track here

"Headbanger"(EPMD, K-Solo, Redman): Whenever I hear this song I want to put on a black hoody, regardless of the weather, and walk through a crowd of people and randomly shove miscellaneous individuals. It's not good for a Hip Hop advocate to admit this, primarily giving douche-bag right wing pundits ammo for their inbred arguments, but this song hypes me up and urges me to do bad things man.(which is a good thing) Even the intro is classic with with Redman screaming "Negro's!!", something I still do whenever I am going somewhere with my family and I want to get them out the door.(Something my mother hates by the way.) The dark track, the hard kick drum, Parrish's traditional "slow flow", Eric's trademark lisp, "Letterman" himself K-Solo, and a all out verbal terrorist strike by Redman that al Qaeda would want the schematics to. Out of all the Posse Cuts on the list, no one separates himself lyrically superior on a particular track than the way Redman does on "Headbanger", Classic Hip Hop material.
Listen here

"Live at the Barbecue":(Nas, Fatal, Akinyele, Large Professor) Besides liking the song based on its merit, the title of it always seemed fitting to me because it sounds like a group of friends rhyming together at a cookout.(Albeit with one of the greatest rappers alive in attendance and a hall of fame producer in attendance.) The way the song started out implied that chaos was about to ensue, then when you heard Nas' opening verse you knew that this track would stay burned in your brain for years. I mean, with lines like "Verbal assassin, my architect pleases/ When I was twelve, I went to hell for snuffin Jesus/" and "Kidnap the President's wife without a plan/ And hangin niggaz like the Ku Klux Klan", you knew what you were hearing was historic. With Fatal holding it down, Akinyele and the way he used to accentuate the last word of each of his rap lines, and Large Professor showing off his lyric skill that we all expected from him with lines like "Why's my name the Large Professor?/ Cause I milked your cow in other words I hit your heffer." (Even though the part where he says, "Secondly, I'm sick of critics, who's neckin' me/ (Oooh he got an afro) yo, but I got dough!!" makes me laugh and I don't know why.) I have been to about 60 cookouts since this song was released and I still haven't been to a barbecue like this one.
Listen here

"Buddy":(Jungle Brothers, A Tribe Called Quest, De La Soul, Monie Love, Queen Latifah): Whenever I hear this song I want to pull out my African medallions and wonder what I did with my Native Tongues application. Maybe you guys can clear something up for me about this song, what exactly is it about? I mean, I know its about something sexual, but is it a specific male organ, female organ, sex "buddy", sex in general, or all the above? But the laid back track and the way that the artists on this song talk about sex in very abstract ways, it makes you wonder why Hip Hop couldn't be like this again. I like when Pos says "Now when Tribe, the Jungle, and De La Soul Is at the clubs our ritual unfolds/ Grab our bones and start swingin' our hands..", but when I do that it is usually with a unsatisfied lover as I assure her that "this never happens to me."
Listen here

"I'm the Man":(Guru, lil dap, Jeru the Damaja): This pick probably isn't one that anyone will agree with me on, but this is one of my personal favorites. I think it is DJ Premier's production, the way the track switches up and smacks you in the face, or the gritty underground feeling you get after hearing it like feeling like you have to take a shower after playing it. On this track was the introduction, to most people, to the man that would bring the Hip Hop classic "Come Clean" to us, Jeru the Damaja. Lil Dap isn't the most impressive MC ever, I even at one time was quoted as saying that Premiere doing production for his group was like "putting a Brooks Brothers suit on a turd", but even he sounded decent on this particular track
Listen here

"Don't Curse"(Heavy D, Kool G Rap, Grand Puba, CL Smooth, Big Daddy Kane, Pete Rock, Q-Tip): I don't know what it is about this song, whether it is the eclectic array of rappers that were assembled, if I actually like the song, or the fact that Heavy D convinced Kool G Rap not to spray the public with profanities. Kool G Rap, a guy whose line "I'll bust a nut, get up, and wipe my dick on your curtain" is what I have mistakenly uttered to many women post coitus. Also the man that has said, talking about throwing a man out of a 20 story window then shooting him, "Up, Up Up and away cause I don't play clown/ Buck, Buck, Buck, take that with you on the way down!" Maybe I'm making too much of it, but it must have taken G Rap all the energy that he could muster to be a part of this collaboration. This track also proves, to a person like myself that uses curse words regularly, that you don't need to be vulgar to make classic Hip Hop.(Two people in the track, CL Smooth and Heavy D, rarely if ever used curses in their raps.) The video sticks out in my mind, not only because it was good to see all those MC's together, but because Big Daddy Kane was wearing an extremely tight purple paisley shirt, sporting an arm cast.(Too funny)
Listen here

100 Things About Me(76-100)

I have taken forever completing this list, so like Jah Rule's career, I'm sure glad this is over. Here is 76-100.

76. I don't have any children
77. even though I want some, but who will be brave enough to accept my "demon seed"?
78. But when if I do procreate, I will make sure that my kid will kick your kids ass.
79. If you have a problem with that, motherfucker I'm not that hard to find.
80. I have a issue with letting things go, but I'm getting better with it.
81. But I did have an issue with some bloggers upset at me commenting on people's blog, claiming that I was trying to garner votes for the blog awards.
82.Which was fine, but based on the fact that in an act of satire I said that I would run a "shameless campaign" and that I would "comment vague shit just for people to check out my site" kind of makes their disgust somewhat misguided and retarded.
83. I even saw a post where bloggers openly discussed this to the point that I still roll my eyes and get headaches from it, primarily because the people still had to like what they saw in order to vote in the first place.
84. Even this one blogger that I refuse to name came to my blog, first anonymously, then under her real name to talk shit. She doesn't want any parts of me, and I don't want to publicize a blog about genital warts and giving "mouth hugs" to supply her heroin habit, so I won't call her out. Fucking Peasant.
85.I guess I still have a problem with "Letting shit go" huh?
86. I went to High School with this guy.
87. Being that he is an actor, and has the ability to get more ass than a toilet seat, I should hate on him like the bitter bastard that I am.
88. But he was a nice guy, who was also on my track team.
89. So nice in fact, that he dropped out of a race in order for me to get enough points to letter.
90. I talked to Jude Law in a club once.
91. We talked about Hip Hop and he bought me a shitload of drinks
92. I even openly wondered if he was hitting on me at one point.
93. Which would be wrong because I LOVE CHICKS and I am ALL MAN BABY!!!
94. But he wasn't, and I was glad for two reasons. One because after 20 years of chasing women in some sort of fashion, the verdict is finally in, I'm straight. But also because I wouldn't know who I could brag to about it exactly.
95. Aurthur Ashe is one of my personal hero's.
96. I want to brutally humiliate, any black person who utters the phrase "You talk white" like it is some sort of put down. Funny thing is, these same people couldn't give you one black history fact if a man with a itchy trigger finger suffering from turrets was holding a gun to their head. Motherfuckers.
97. I feel that Hip Hop will never die.
98. even though it is on life support.
99. I'm down with oral, only if you are down with reciprocity
100. I'm glad that my black ass is done with this fucking list

Wednesday, November 09, 2005

The Sound of The HumanityCritic

As someone who suffers from dyslexia and ADD issues, I can always appreciate when something important gets through this battlefield that I call a skull and teaches me something that I can hold on to for the rest of my life. Sure, I've had teachers who have cared about me, parents who loved and nurtured me, life experiences that have molded the masturbatory existence that I call a life. I cherish all of those influences, but Hip Hop, believe it or not has taught me a plethora of lessons.(And no, and one of them is not sliding a credit card between a strippers asscrack Ala the Nelly "Tip Drill" video.) From my rapping days when you never knew who was going to suddenly battle you, it taught me to always be prepared and stand up for myself. From a fan standpoint, and someone who cherishes real lyricism, it taught me to have pride in your own work, and not respect anyone who doesn't.(ex: Wack MC's, people who use ghostwriters) Because of critics ranging from piss poor politicians to my own parents, it taught me loyalty, because if you are a Hip Hop fan I'm sure you have defended said art-form more than one would like to admit. Which brings me to the best lesson of all, since most critics who blast Hip Hop are grossly misinformed about it and put every rap act into one barrel, it has taught me to give certain things a chance and not blindly criticize without the proper research. Here is a look at various forms of music, some I know, some I didn't have too experienced with at first, and the final conclusion that I came to.

Country and Western: To be totally honest, up until a few years ago I didn't think much about Country and Western music. As I kid I knew about the standard big names, Willy Nelson, Johnny Cash, and Kenny Rogers, and the only reason I knew about him is because I specifically remember telling a girl "You gotta know when to hold em'" when I was trying to influence her to give me a hand-job. I also remember as a kid seeing these commercials, you know the ones where artists would peddle their music with the songs scrolling down the screen, and seeing men named "Boxcar Willie" and "Slim Whitman" and laughing for minutes because of how ridiculous they looked and sounded. But as time passed and I got older, became more familiar with the music in general, and my band opening up for about a thousand country bands in every shit kicking bar you can imagine, I have a certain respect for it now. When you think about it, hate to be so simplistic about it, but its just "white blues" in a certain sense. I'm not the biggest fan of pop country acts like Shania Twain or the Dixie Chicks, or that Bush apologizing, jingoistic bastard Toby Keith, but I respect country, even though I currently have the same number of country albums as I do Kobe Bryant rap records. Zero.

Rock: Being a child of the 80's, where most kids were exposed to MTV form it's inception, I was exposed to various forms of music. I mean, people shit on MTV and for good reason, but if it wasn't for that 24 hour music channel I wouldn't be able to tell you who the fuck "spandau ballet" is, "Men at Work", "Culture Club", or any other 80's band that leaves a puzzled look on the faces of those born after 1977 when you bring them up. I also think that MTV is responsible for my love of rock music today, if I'm not playing Hip Hop in my car I am playing some "Rage Against the Machine", "The White Stripes", some Hendrix, "System of a Down", even going for some calmer paced stuff like the "Red Hot Chili Peppers". I mentioned before that I have a band and I have found that it is so much different from being an MC because a REAL MC has to control the crowd and have a stage presence. A rock singer, in my experience, besides putting on a good show has to really have a "Fuck you if you don't like it approach".(That usually works with my band) Now, my friend Danny is in what you would call a death medal band and I hate supporting him with a passion. Not because I'm a shitty friend, but because the last time I was at one of his gigs some asshole was on stage and cut himself on purpose. This motherfucker was trying to get blood on people, no one was outraged surprisingly but me, so I threw a full bottle of beer at his face to get him to stop. He stopped, but I haven't been invited to anymore of Danny's shows, and maybe that's a good thing.

Classical: Did I ever tell you that it has been sort of a lifelong goal of mine to be a bona fide "Renaissance man". I'm not shitting you, a refined motherfucker who can recite poetry, astute in the world of politics, art, athletics, just an all around cultured fuck. Well, since I thought that liking and having a deep appreciation of classical music was on the "Renaissance man" list, my dreams were dashed very early. I don't know what it is, but every time I have gone to a classical concert, either with my 11th grade class or on a date with a woman that I could definitely see naked if I could have just kept my eyes open, I have fallen asleep like a baby within minutes.(I snore, so like Mary J Blige without her makeup, it can get pretty ugly..) But after I started dating a flute player who was in a local symphony at the time, I had a new appreciation for classical to the point that I would incorporate certain pieces of it in my guitar solos. I remember people used to come up to me after shows and say, "That guitar solo kicked ass, you are quite the musician to come up with that!!", and before I could just bask in the lie the girl I was dating would say, "Yeah, that is my favorite Beethoven piece!", ruining my shine. But seriously, she introduced me to a whole new world of music that definitely expanded my creativity on many levels. She was great, but since she had a certain hatred for giving "mouth hugs", I think she had enough of me when I would try to encourage her by saying "Come on baby, think of it like a "skin flute!"

Reggae: If I hear someone say, "You must be the first black guy with dreadlocks that I've ever known to HATE Reggae!!", I am going to kick them square in the chest. I'm weird because I don't have an abundance of marijuana and practice rastafarianism? It's not that I hate reggae, let me explain. I actually enjoy reggae, acts like Bob Marley and the Wailers, Pete Tosh, Third World, groups like that I can listen to for hours. But, and I know that many people will disagree with me, "Dancehall" is the music that irritates the ever loving piss out of me whenever it infiltrates my ears. I have tried to like it, listening to it for hours trying to max out my objectivity and find some redeeming value in it. But what ends up happening is I get so frustrated and irritated that I quickly eject that CD and put in some hip hop, letting out orgasmic sounds of refreshment like the character Keenan Ivory Wayans played in "Hollywood Shuffle" when he got his jheri curl activator back. Granted, I have misled women into sleeping with me because I have acted like I'm a dancehall fan, infiltrated a dancehall club and pretended to like the music I was dancing to. Which led to a few nights of guilt free sex, but the end result was the woman in question looking at me like a snitch mob informant when I told her that I actually despised said art-form.

Reggaeton: (see Reggae) I'm not going to go into how much of a fan I'm not of this art form because it would seem mean and offend fans of said art-form. A Cuban friend of mine got mad that I said that Reggaeton was like a "special Olympics for certain rappers who want to mask their lyrical shortcomings" and to never say it again. Damn, I guess I just did. But seriously, it's just irritating to me and I have listened to hours of it and been to many clubs that have played it. It's just not my cup of tea, sorry.

Hip Hop: I was watching Common's video "I used to Love her" where he equates Hip Hop as a girl he has always been in love with, and I came up with my own comparison. Hip Hop to me is like one of your own kids who was the apple of your eye for a long time, but as they grew older they started becoming a first class criminal. I mean, a real fuck up, having to bail them out of jail constantly, pay for lawyers for them, try to get them off of the drug of the moment that they are on. Despite how far they have falling, and what a pain in the ass they can sometimes be, you will always love them unconditionally because they are your child. That, my friends, is Hip Hop to me in a nutshell. Obviously you can tell that I'm a fan, even though the quality of the art-form has taken a nose dive during the last 7 years or so. With groups like Lil John, Mike Jones, that goddamn "Laffy Taffy" motherfucker that I would assassinate for free, and groups of that ilk, it's hard to feel positive of the future of Hip Hop. But I look at it as this, Hip Hop is going through a "hair band" phase right now. Remember in the 80's when you had those bands who wore extremely tight spandex, makeup, and moused hair so high only to rival some women who lived on the Jersey shore? Well people got pretty sick and fucking tired of hearing "Power ballads", so Nirvana came along and changed rock music for the better. The question I have for Hip Hop is, who will be our Kurt Cobain??

R&B: This art-form now is almost as bad as Hip Hop is, with all these "singing thugs" who go on and on about "taking someones lady". I wish one of those dudes would try that shit on me, as I try to strangle him with his chain as he yells "It's just music man, it's just music!" But seriously it seems that the current state of R&B is missing, for lack of a better word, Soul. It seems that the same 5 producers are working with the same 5 writers, and since everyone pretty much sounds the same anyways, we have the luxury of hearing the same monotonous bullshit through television and radio. By the way, what ever happened to good old "Hump Music". Music that you could put on and your lover knows that you are about to give her a pelvic thrusting of a lifetime, or that of a 15 year old.(Maybe that's just me) But you have to use certain artists for certain situations though. For that High School sweetheart who you haven't seen since graduation 91' and you want to set the mood, throw in some Al Green, "Lets stay together" might be a great choice. If you are hanging out with your significant lover on a rainy Sunday afternoon, throw in some Sade and before you know it you will be humping like two drugged up test bunnies. Fellas, you meet some coffee-shop chick sporting a Afro and a dashiki, throw on some Isaac Hayes, if you are drunk enough and squint you might think that you are fucking Pam Greer in her prime. Lastly, if you take home some questionable piece of sex that looks good but probably is more diseased than that monkey in outbreak, throw on two condoms then throw on some Public Enemy. Its not exactly "mood music", but anything to keep your mind off the the bad decision that you are currently inside will help somewhat.