Tuesday, January 31, 2006

A Few people I would love to punch in the face.

When creating art whether it be a painting or a Hip Hop verse, even though you might have worked long and hard on it, sometimes there has to be a time when you are just flat out honest with yourself. You have to look at what you have just created, and if you feel that it is a piece of crap then you must tear it down, regardless of how painful that may be, and start all over again. That is how I currently feel about my therapy sessions, my quest of rehabilitating myself into a kinder, more gentler HumanityCritic and resolve some of my anger issues. I've have come to the realization after the past weekend that I like being angry, I function better when I'm pissed off, and as long as my actions don't land me in a "fuck me in the ass" penal system then who fucking cares. Let me tell you what happened to spark this "moment of clarity" if you will.

Saturday I had to get some gas something terrible, since I know that a grown man pushing his car is hardly the sexiest thing a potential female suitor could set her eyes on. So as I paid for the petro, I started to innocently flirt with the cashier that I had talked to a million times before. Sure she is beautiful, and sure I don't have a snowballs chance in hell with her, so the impossibility of me ever entering her vaginally has reduced my game spitting skills to submarine levels such as "When are we gonna fuck girl? I promise, it will be quick and you won't feel a thing!!" She finds my brand of bullshit funny, and since there wasn't anyone in line I felt obligated to bombard her with as many sexually uncomfortable innuendos that a masturbating master like myself could muster. Scratch that, there was a guy behind me but he wasn't technically in line, he was scratching lottery tickets. Anyway, in the middle of my sentence I stammered over a couple of words(as a kid I was a big studderer. It has gotten much better since then, but occasionally it rears its ugly head) and this motherfucker behind me had the audacity to mock me, going "Cha-Cha.. hee-hee"

My friends tease me about my speech impediment all the time, I would be crazy to feel sensitive toward it since I am an amazingly insensitive prick myself.(I once told an ex, after sex, "You're money is on the table. Scram!" She didn't find that funny) But this dude wasn't a friend, and the mere fact that his main goal was to embarrass me in front of a girl that I had visions of giving me eyerolling mouth-hugs to some drunken night, I was pissed off. So I calmly turned to him and asked him, "How old are you dude?", because I had to make sure he was of legal age first. He said, "I'm 20 years old, why you want to know asshole??. I smiled and said, "Good", then I elbowed him in the chest knocking him back into the convenience store isle, tipping the shit over completely. He looked like he wanted to get up and I angrily screamed, "Get up and I will make your ass squeal like Ned Beatty's character in deliverance motherfucker!!" As I left the store feeling good about getting that anger out, I thought 2 things: 1: How nerdy am I to spout a movie reference during a "tough guy" rant and 2: Maybe I should think before I speak, because Ned Beatty's character DID get ass-raped in Deliverance.

So fuck it, I'm not sitting on anyone's couch any more, I'm going to embrace the fact that sometimes in my life I'm just going to have to put some random individuals on their ass. Matter of fact, in honor of me embracing my "inner asshole", here is a list of people I would love to punch in the face.

Bill O'Reilly: How do I hate thee, let me count the motherfucking ways. I always hated bullies, to the point that 99.9% of the fights that I had in High School and college were against men who were bullies in some form or fashion. Bill O'Reilly is the worst sort of bully, loudly talking over guests who are putting him on the business end of a beating in the argument department, even using the tactic of finger pointing and leaning in on the person he is talking to as a form of "intimidation". Besides this guy being a steaming pile of crap which is enough of a reason to hate this lecherous son of a bitch, the mere fact that mindless masses follow this jackass is unbelievable since he is a proven liar.

How would HumanityCritic handle him? I think I would go undercover as some sort of Black Republican group president and be a guest on his show.(How hard is it to pretend to be a black republican anyway. Just wear blackface, learn how to "soft shoe", act like I don't have an actually backbone, and publicly do some sell out shit and act like Condi Rice is the equivalent to Harriet fucking Tubman) As Bill begins to ask me questions I would interrupt him and say, "Bill, shut your ass up!", and hop over his desk and pound him into oblivion screaming "Andrea Makris sent me motherfucker!!"(The chick he sexually harassed a couple of years ago.) Granted, the move would get me pummelled beyond belief by his security guys, but it would be so worth it.

Jim Jones: This scumbag is "wackness" personified, and nothing would make me happier than chopping him in the throat with pin point accuracy. For one thing, if you ever hear this guy talk he acts like he is the toughest, grimeyest dude in the world, so the incentive to make him shrivel up in the fetal position is appealing as a motherfucker. Even though there are a lot of wack rappers who I want to punch, like Young Jeezy to Mike Jones, Jim Jones' wackness just puts me in an uber violent mood to be honest with you. Case in point, I was getting my beard trimmed last week when a guy came in and gave out a Jim Jones Sampler CD to everyone, including myself. I planned on throwing it away later, but as this kid went on and on about "how dope" Jim Jones was and how "underrated" he was as an MC, I just snapped. So when he asked me, "Hey Dread, how do you feel about Jim Jones??", I simply responded by saying "Ok" and walking into the doorway and violently throwing the entire CD into the street. "That's how I feel about Jim Jones!!" I said, also to add a dramatic flavor to my psychosis I started to wash my hands aggressively. Also, the other day I saw him on a MTV2 roundtable discussion on the "year in Hip Hop" where he was an absolute douchebag, and if I was there we would have definitely ended up beating the perm off that jackass.

How would HumanityCritic handle him? Again with the infiltration, but I would act like a rabid Jim Jones fan in the audience of TRL. As one of the hosts turns to Jim Jones and says, "Jim, one of your die hard fans has a question to ask you!" As he agrees to take a question, I would emerge from the crowd with a staler-like fan expression on my face and say: "J-J-Jim J-Jones, I was wondering..." Then he would say, "Yeah?", to which my voice would suddenly get deeper and I would say, "I was wondering if you have ever got your ass beaten on National Television?? Riverside motherfucker!!" Then I would beat his ass as usually cherry TRL kids formed a barrier around the both of us, shielding off security as I took Jim Jones jewelry and beat his ass for every time I heard one of his wack songs or saw one of his bullshit videos. Even though that footage wouldn't get aired, I would post it on my blog where I know you kind folks would seriously critique it, and give me pointers on my fighting technique. Hey, a brother has to tighten up for when I beat up "Dem Franchize Boyz"

Sean Combs: You know, I don't have any particular ill will directed at Puffy, I just think it would be fun to beat his ass that's all. Well there are a few things that makes him a bona fide recipient of my size 11's though, like how even when he is doing something charitable like a Katrina fund raiser or trying to get kids to vote, it always seems like he is doing it just to garner publicity. I guess I could beat his ass based on the fact that I hold the "he had biggie killed to further his bullshit rap career" conspiracy theory close to my heart. Besides, being a fan of the almighty Rakim, I find it damn near impossible not to get pissed off when Puffy says that "Biggie was the best ever" as if it was a world wide opinion. Ok, I'm pissed now.

How would HumanityCritic handle him? I would do what I had to do and be a finalist on one of his "Making the Band" shows. My rap name would be "Critic the chronic masturbator", one of the only rappers in Puffy's "super group" as he would constantly say. One day when we are in the studio and he calls himself trying to call me out for not "bringing the fire" on a lyrical level, I would emerge from the vocal booth saying "Did you hear your verse in SuperCat's "Dolly My baby"? You don't have the right to comment on anyone's lyrics!" As he would try to save face in front of the camera and act all bad, I would take a Biggie platinum plaque off the wall and smash him over the head with it. I would get arrested, I know that, but wouldn't me being hauled off by security screaming "You killed Biggie motherfucker!!" be great T.V??

Guy down the street: Like a vegetarian community that just had a Burger King built nearby, I never thought that I would have beef in my own neighborhood. Let me explain. This dude down the street didn't know he was talking to a chick that I am friendly with, so when he said "Why did they let "his kind" in our neighborhood??" he didn't know that it would get back to me. But it did, and when I saw him at my local bar and told him that if he didn't keep my name out of his mouth that I would beat him within an inch of his life, he seemed rather receptive and accommodating. As time has gone by, the image of me about to beat his ass creeping out of his scull, and feeling embarrassed about how he buckled like a belt, his behavior recently tells me that an ass whippin' might be on the menu for the shmuck in question. For one thing he told somebody that he would kick my ass, also pointed at his confederate flag as I drove by one day. Yeah, this one has the realistic possibility of actually happening.

How would HumanityCritic handle him? I'm not, he's a cop. But I guess I will revisit this one when he retires from the force in a few months..

Poignant Lyric

In the age of Studio Gangsters posing as lyricists, I just find this O.C lyric to stand the test of time.

O.C Time's Up

Speakin in tongues, about what you did but you never done it
Admit you bit it cause the next man gained platinum behind it
I find it ironic, so I researched and analyzed
Most write about stuff they fantasized
I'm fed up with the bull, on this focus of weed and clips
and glocks gettin cocked, and wax not bein flipped
It's the same old same old just strain it from the anal
The contact, is not com-pexed or vexed
So why you puhsin it? Why you lyin for? I know where you live
I know your folks, you was a sucka as a kid
Your persona's drama, that you acquired in high school in actin class
Your whole aura is plexi-glass
What's-her-face told me you shot this kid last week in the park
That's a lie, you was in church with your moms
See I know yo, slow your roll, give a good to go
Guys be lackin in this thing called rappin just for dough
Of course we gotta pay rent, so money connects, but uhh
I'd rather be broke and have a whole lot of respect
It's the principal of it, I get a rush when I bust
some dope lines oral, that maybe somebody'll quote
That's what I consider real, in this field of music
Instead of puttin brain cells to work they abuse it
Non-conceptual, non-exceptional
Everybody's either crime-related or sexual
I'm here to make a difference, besides all the riffin
The traps are not stickin, rappers stop flippin
For those who pose lyrical but really ain't true I feel

"Their time's limited, hard rocks too" -> Slick Rick
(from the song _Hey Young World_)

Rest in Peace Sister

Friday, January 27, 2006

Just a Friendly Game of Typecasting

One of the negative things about joking around all the time is that people have a hard time knowing when you're serious. Like the time I told a close friend of mine that the love of his life was currently experiencing penises that weren't his, his response was "Shut up Critic, you are one funny dude!!" Unfortunately he knew that I wasn't kidding when he found himself in the free clinic weeks later, being asked by the doctor if he was "allergic to penicillin or not." Or this chick named Gretchen that I emotionally declared my love for in High School, only for her to laugh hysterically and say, "Boy, you know you don't love me!! Wanna get high later??" An interesting postscript to that teenage tale, fast forward 10 years later and I had to painfully be asked by her at our High School reunion, "HumanityCritic, why didn't you ever try to date me in High School?"

I went into that last paragraph to go into something rather embarrassing that happened to me one drunken night last week. I was invited over the house of a good friend of mine, an up and coming director, for some drinks and a few laughs. As the night came to a close, after we discussed everything from Condileeza Rice being an "Aunt Tomasina", the self loathing of black republicans, and pop culture as a whole, my friend suggested that we all come up with some great movie ideas. We were all game, so the next few minutes I sat through what I thought were some pretty horrible movie ideas, just knowing that my amazing ideas would come off like gangbusters. Then it was my turn, so I drunkenly stood up for what I thought was the best idea since internet porn and said:

"Idea number 1: A young couple buys an old, dingy house as the ultimate "fixer-upper". Despite rumblings from neighbors and friends alike that the house was "haunted" because of the 14 people that were slaughtered there previously, they decided to live there anyway, not believing in "nonsense like that." As they get settled in they hear voices, they don't move out, blood comes out as the young wife takes a shower, the stay the course and don't move. I mean, they've seen images of dead bodies, pictures randomly moving, stuff that would make me absolutely shit on myself. Then one day, as they looked out of the window of their home, they saw a sight that made them quickly pack their shit and get the fuck out of dodge screaming!! "Ahhhhhhhh!"

My friend asked, "What was it??" I said, "Black folks were moving in next door, nothing is scarier than having your fucking property value plummet!" Nothing, crickets, I guess because they didn't know whether I was joking or serious. Then they took the alcohol from me when I told them my other idea, to have make a movie entitled "Boyz in the Hood 2: The Return of Doughboy". Granted Doughboy is dead and it is a horror flick, but it seemed like an outstanding idea at the time.

As my friend drove me home he asked me about something that I had written, a short story that he wanted to capture on film. As we sat in my driveway we talked about what actors would be perfect to play each role based on that specific actors filmography. These are the actors that I came up with, I like most of these actors to be totally honest and this isn't by any means a rant on "Typecasting". Ok, maybe it is, it's just based on what they normally play and how perfect they would be playing the roles that I had written.

Standard Hooker role:(Paula Jai Parker) I don't know what it is, but I just think that this actress can pull off the role of "Wanda" perfectly, she is the hooker in my story with a "heart of gold." Listen, I'm not trying to claim that I know the inner-working of Hollywood or anything, but I can just imagine how hard it is for a black actresses nowadays. That being said, this chick sure plays a lot of "prostitute" roles, "High Crimes", "Phone Booth", "Hustle and Flow", she should teach a class on "how to make an ass transaction look more believable". When not playing a hooker, she plays "ghetto" to absolute perfection, she was believable in "Friday", "She hate me", and "Sprung" to be totally honest. Even though I playfully give her shit like a fecal fetish, at the end of the day I am just a chubby dreadlocked blogger who sometimes sings the "Umpa Loopa" theme song while ejaculating. What do I know??

Wise Old Black Man:(Morgan Freeman) Let me start off by saying that I respect Mr. Freeman as an actor, he is by far one of the best out there. But I remember reading a columnist a few years ago, who said that the only way that Hollywood could feel comfortable with a strong black lead character is if they played the "Magical Negro" role. You know, the lead black actor has to have some sort of mysticism to them to explain their greatness, like Will Smith's role in "The Legend of Bagger Vance", Michael Clarke Duncan's role in "The Green Mile", or Queen Latifah's role in "Bringing down the House". It's hard for me to lump Mr. Freeman in this category carelessly, but when I look back at some of his roles he sure plays the "black man with all the answers" role like it wasn't shit.(See "The Shawshank Redemption" and "Million Dollar Baby") Even though the movie that we're making, if it gets made at all, would be perfect for Morgan as he would play "Luther", the wise old man with rogue-like advice for anyone he encounters.

Eclectic old white guy(Christopher Walken): If one guy gets a considerable amount of dough just playing himself, this is the dude. I don't scare easily, but I once met him in an elevator in New York and he officially freaked me the fuck out. He asked me where I was from, and when I told him "Virginia" he started listing off graphic historic events that took place in my dear state. I didn't know whether to be impressed or lose my goddamned lunch, but the weirdest thing is how he signed an autograph for me, shook my dreadlocks and said, "take care scooter!!" "Scooter"?? I like the guy as an actor, but he always plays each character like he is an argument away from going on a killing spree, which makes him an even more compelling actor to watch. I'm pretty sure that he knows that people will hire him to put his specific flavor to a role, but when I think of Christopher Walken I definitely want to cast him in the role of "Micah" the mentally disturbed retired mathematician.

The Slacker Pal:(Jack Black) I have to admit, I'm a fan of this guy's band "Tenacious D", to the point that I talked a girl into letting me have sex with her while their song "Fuck her Slowly" romantically played in the background. But seriously, I don't care if this motherfucker wants to perform in "Shakespeare in the park", "Death of a Salesman", or any other serious role you can name, he will always seem like the slacker role he played in "High Fidelity" to me.(I went to one of his shows in North Carolina, and made him say the "Cosby Sweater" line) I know it's terrible to put limitations on somebody because who knows at what heights their talent goes to, but wouldn't you giggle your silly ass off if you saw Jaleel "Urkel" White play the lead doctor on "ER"? That's what I thought.. That being said, Jack Black would play the role of "Donovan-The Hippie Environmentalist" like no other.

Short tempered Italian business man:(Joe Pesci) As much as I try to distance myself from my violent behavior, my friends will remind me of it whenever possible. A story that I hear over and over again about myself is one where a guy was talking shit to me, so without thinking I took the bottle I was drinking out of and smashed it over the guys head. When that happened, all my boys screamed "Joe Pesci!!", a nicknamed that has haunted me like Mark Wahlbergs rap career haunts him. But the mere fact that you all out there knew what the "Joe Pesci" reference meant, tells you something about some of his most memorable performances. You don't really think about that buddy movie he was in with Danny Glover, or even those "Lethal Weapon" movies, you think about him stabbing a guy to death with a motherfucking pen. Don't lie. Anyway, I think I'm going to cast him as "Sal", the short tempered business man who literally shoves bats up guy's asses who try to muscle in on his business.

Thursday, January 26, 2006

Let me Introduce you to the Hypocrite..

Sometimes in life you are forced to deal with a raw reality that is hard for most people to deal with. There was the time I saw Lawrence Taylor sitting in an airport when I was a kid, I nervously approached him, stammering like any excited kid asking his hero for an autograph. I soon came to the uncut reality that L.T was a dickhead, as he acted like I interrupted him while he was taking a shit as he signed my football.(I'm sure he still remembers a 12 year old boy that once ripped up his autograph, walking away telling him to "suck" his "dick") Or the time that my father sat me down and told me that my mother was married before, and that he wasn't the blood father of my two siblings. It's not a big deal, those are still my siblings its just I felt weird for a couple of reasons. One, how long it took for them to tell me(I was 13) and Two, my father buying me a computer.(It kind of felt like hush money. You know, me and my mother have never discussed her first husband. Never, I'm 32 fucking years old.)There was also the time I was dating a woman from England named Rose, who had me thinking that I was absolutely "blowing her back out" in the sex department. That was until she left me a message on my machine and failed to hang her phone up completely, so the next few minutes I heard her laugh with her friends as she said how "uninteresting" I was in the sack and she also said, "That bloak sure has a stubby knob."(Even though she was foul, hearing a British woman diss you didn't seem that bad at the time.)

Recently I had to come to the conclusion while giving a neighborhood kid a couple of dollars for his "anti-drug" charity drive his school was having, and giving him a lengthy lecture on how bad marijuana is that I'm a big fucking hypocrite.(I must be the first motherfucker to give a "Just say no" speech with an ounce of weed in my pocket.) I know that we all as humans have a bit of good old hypocrisy running through our veins, but with me it is so fucking blatant I wouldn't blame any of you for thinking that I am completely full of shit.(I'm sure many of you do.) I guess I'm in good company, KRS One can talk about being non violent but still rap about guns, Vince Carter can say a guy isn't a team player but he's the one gave up on the Raptors, Michael Irving can talk shit about Randy Moss but he's the same guy caught in a hotel room with hookers and enough blow to kill "Scarface". Fuck it, lets go into my hypocrisies...

Violence in Hip Hop: I have had more women not want to fuck me more than the times that I wax ad nauseam about the decline of Hip Hop. I know the shit gets tired, and I apologize, it's just that I'm just an asshole who is the epitome of what a music snob looks and sounds like. Simply put, I just think that I'm right and your miserable ass is wrong, period. (An ideology that served me well on the debate team in High School, but not in life) My main target has been the constant displays of violent images in Hip Hop, and the way the entire genre is marketed on murder. Anybody who reads this blog knows how I speak so affectionately of the old times, when hip hop was pure and real.(Whah, Whah, Whah, Charlie Brown's fucking teacher!!)

Here comes the Hypocrisy!!: The funny thing about the above paragraph is that my dumb ass has always loved N.W.A. For someone who gives such a Norman Rockwell-esque view of Old School Hip Hop and it's "purity", I sure love rapping along while Ice Cube and MC Ren tell stories of having sex with crack feins, shooting up parties with Automatic weapons, or loudly calling a woman out of her name while sporadically engaging is impromptu coitus. My current favorite is M.O.P, even though I talk that "how horrible violence is in Hip Hop" shit, you can see me bopping my head in my car as Lil Fame eloquently says that he is about to "Break up more crews than Mills Lane" due to the accuracy of his machine gun. Nothing says "hypocrisy" more than me making machine gun sounds in my car to a DJ Premiere produced M.O.P track.

Misogyny: Even though I have been pretty much a prick since August 31st, 1973, I have always truly loved and admired women, due to having a remarkable mother. I really think that the way women are treated in music videos is deplorable, being used as pieces of meat, totally devalued. B.E.T is the worst network ever, they are a constant minstrel show of negative imagery, the worst example of that is the video show "UnCut" that they show late nights. I have seen butter rubbed on broads in some of those videos, a credit cards being swiped between the ass-cheeks of a dancer, and other random acts of buffoonery that would make all of our deceased civil rights leaders spin in their graves..

Here comes the Hypocrisy!! I'm going to be honest, and I don't know what other way to put it, but a brother loves titties. I try to be positive, and I am sort of sickened by some of the images in Hip Hop, but the sex addict in me can't make me totally hate it.(Shit, I am a germaphobic sexual addict. I guess that's a kin to being an alcoholic wine taster..) I know that I have talked shit about strip clubs before, but seeing titties just calms a brothers soul. It's going to get to the point where me and my wife get into a heated argument and all she has to do is life up her shirt, argument over. Even though my feelings about that "UnCut" show are legitimate, sometimes I catch myself watching it in a fake "look at the trash B.E.T puts on!!" way but I'm really glued to it in a "look at the ass on her!!" way.

Macho guy crap: For those people in my life that don't know about my tales of violence, drug use, or random debauchery, my black ass can come off a bit preachy. If I had a dollar for each time I gave a young black person a "don't fall into that macho-guy shit" speech, I can buy that inflatable women I have been saving for.(Hey, it says the mouth feels real!) What macho guy crap you ask? You know, the "what do you think you're looking at!!", "You stepped on my shoe mother fucker!!", "I know you didn't bump me!!", you know, the standard ignorant male shit. Man, do I talk a good game, coming off as a wanna-be black leader as I attempt to steer young black males to the promised land as I lead by example.

Here comes the Hypocrisy!!: I really do think those ignorant actions are deplorable, I really do, that's not to say that I don't engage in them once in a while. I don't know what it is fellas, but isn't there something irritating about some asshole in a club looking at you like you were responsible for the war in Iraq, or the failing economy? As much as I think about my previous preachy sermons I give on the subject, I always end up asking a gentleman "What in the fuck are you looking at??", which usually follows a side order of neck violence. Even though I am better with people stepping on my shoe or bumping me, but if they don't say excuse me immediately I am about to read them the riot act. Like this asshole who stepped on my shoe not once, but twice without saying "excuse me". I called myself being the better man, ignoring it the first time, but couldn't take the blatant disrespect anymore so I grabbed the "Pimp Cup" that he was holding and threw it against the wall. After it shattered to a million pieces, he didn't want to fight me, he just looked hurt and said, "That cost me a lot of money." Damn, I never knew a person could be so emotionally invested in a Pimp Cup.

I'll never be like my father!!: I take credit for my shit-heel actions over the course of my life, I really do, but my fathers influence is definitely mixed in the emotional gumbo that I call my brain. Yeah, he fucked me up, but I swore that I would never be like him. The verbal abuse, the degrading things that he used to say to break down my spirit, the emotional roller-coaster I was on because one second he would be the coolest motherfucker on earth and the next the anti-Christ. Also, the man was tactless, and there is no way that I will never become the man he was.

Here comes the Hypocrisy!!: I'm a lot like him, minus the "degrading people" part. But I am tactless, I will say anything to anybody regardless of the situation, and pretty much sleep well that night like it wasn't shit. I'm not proud of this, but like Linda Blair in the "Exorcist", some of the foulest shit comes out of my mouth when I'm mad. Not only that, when a few friends came over my house to help me with something and accidentally messed up, the words "What are you fucking retarded??" almost made their way out of my mouth.(That was my father's favorite saying) Fuck man, I really have to fix that..

A Random two questions for blog readers...

1: I'm not condoning anything Ron Artest has done, but what are peoples feelings on the sports media? I ask because seeing the sports media paint Ron Artest as the bad guy(some of it deserving), when it was proven that he never "demanded a trade" but was responding to a direct question. The Pacers want to act like little Bo peep here, but it was leaked then that they wanted to trade Artest for Peja when he made the "trade" comment. What are your thoughts??

2. On another note, over the past few months my best friend has made the suggestion that I "hang with his wife" when he isn't there. He called me the other night, while out with some people, and said "HumanityCritic, you should bring a 6 pack over and chill with my wife, she'd like that!!" I don't know how yall feel about it, but I'm never doing that!! I'm the type of dude to come over my boys house, and if he isn't there but his lady is I'm not waiting there with her, I'll just come back later. I'm I right or just paranoid??

Why Kobe's 81 is more impressive than Wilt's 100

I really admire what Wilt did, and wouldn't be mad if people said that Kobe's feat couldn't touch it. But a friend of mine who writes for ESPN wanted me, the Kobe fan, to come up with an argument stating why his 81 point night is more important than Wilts. Plus some emailers asked me the same thing in response to my "Rumble Young Man Rumble!!!!" post. Fuck, here goes, rip me to shreads if you will.

Kobe sat for 6 minutes

Wilt played the entire game.

Besides the all out attempt to get the ball out of Chamberlain's hands the Knicks would foul other Warriors players. To counter that and get the ball back in Chamberlains hands, the Warriors would quickly foul a Knicks player. Implying that they we giving Wilt as many chances as possible to score.

The warriors had a total of 39 assists.

The Lakers had a total of 18 assists.(2 from Bryant)

Wilt Chamberlain quote after his 100 point game: "It would have been impossible to score this many points if my teammates hadn't kept feeding me, especially Guy!"

The Opposing teams roster against Kobe: Jalen Rose 6'8, 215(14.7 career ppg), Mike James 6'2, 188(career 10.3 ppg), Chris Bosh 6'10, 230(career 16.0 ppg) Morris Peterson 6'7, 220(career 11.8 ppg) Matt Bonner 6'10, 240(career 7.1 ppg) Charlie Villanueva 6'11 240(career 11.8 ppg) Joey Graham 6'7, 225(career 6.4 ppg) Jose calderon 6'3 210(career 6.1 ppg) Pape Sow 6'10, 250(career 2.3 ppg)

The Opposing teams roster against Wilt: The Knicks best center was sidelined with the flu, Phil Jordan, and was guarded by Darrall Imhoff 6'10 220(career with knicks- 7.2 ppg) and Cleveland Buckner 6'9 210(only played 2 seasons with the knicks(6 points a game) Willie Naulls 6'6, 225(career with knicks- 15.8 ppg) Donnis Butcher 6'2, 200(career with knicks- 6.1 ppg) Dave Budd 6'6, 205(career with knicks- 7.1 ppg) Al Buler 6'2 175(career with knicks- 9.8) Richie Guerin 6'4, 195(career with knicks- 17.3 ppg) Johnny Green 6'5, 200(career with knicks- 11.6 ppg)

The arguments about there being legitimate centers around the time played is a silly ass one because we are dealing with the specific game at hand. By comparing players during Wilt's 100 point game and Kobe's 81 point game, Wilt is by far the tallest individual. In Kobe's game, given the sizes of the players listed above, there are 7 players from the Raptors who participated in that game that are taller than Bryant.

Kobe Bryant hit a higher percentage of field goals

When Wilt scored his 100, it was a meaningless game with the playoff spots already secured.

Even thought the Raptors are no power house, the Knicks team that Wilt played against was dead last.

Wilts team lead the whole way, with Wilt not really needing to even play in the fourth quarter. His mere presence implies that he was getting fed the ball continuously to reach a certain goal. The Lakers game on the other hand was a different story, with the Lakers needing to come from behind to win.

From what they say about the time surrounding Wilts 100 point game, there wasn't really an emphasis on defense. Even though I know that the Toronto Raptors aren't exactly a defense first minded team.

Even though the argument about Kobe having the luxury of a three point shot is relevant, but it just highlights the fact that he took a crap-load of jump-shots. Higher in difficulty than most of the shots that I'm sure Wilt attempted.

Not that it would make a difference but the starting Center for the Knicks, Phil Jordan, didn't play because he was injured.

Wednesday, January 25, 2006

HumanityCritic's Singles Ad

SBM, 32, non-smoker(of cigarettes), brown eyes, dreadlocks, emotionally unavailable, loves movies, writing, masturbation, and sometimes hitting rowdy gentlemen in the throat until it's hard for those fuckers to breath. Seeking easygoing, Intelligent, funny, loyal woman to possibly make me see the light and burn my historic porn collection. Second thought, can we burn one at a time? A brother can't just go cold turkey, right?

Being a single 32 year old man is one of the hardest things in the world in my opinion, outside of terminal illness, a physical handicap, and being a Kobe Bryant fan. I'm at a weird age where I'm not exactly a spring chicken, but then again I am far from being that crazy old bastard who lives in the beat up house on the corner that's full of cats. I know that many of the women who read my blog are well rounded ladies, who don't fall under any of the evil generalizations that I'm about to give. That being said, the landscape of options for a fellow in my predicament are as scary as Mary J. Blige without her make-up on. I mean, younger women are great, their exuberant energy can possibly invoke a few extra seconds out of the ole "pleasure shaft" to be totally honest. The downside, even though many younger women have a wisdom beyond their years, is the fear that right when you start to fall in love with their ass they will move on, tired of my "Hip Hop was better in my day" bullshit. I have my own past that haunts me so I'm not one to talk, but dating women my age is difficult because many of them have so many bad experiences that they carry so much shit with them that you think that they are a fucking baggage handler. So anything you do wrong is equated to, "I knew you weren't shit!! You are just as bad as my baby daddy Ray-Ray!"

Older women are great, shit, I have a Frankie Beverly and Maze song on my Ipod as we speak! But the downside to dating older women is that they are painfully honest in what they want, and usually it's not to cuddle, so simply being used to "hump and shut the fuck up" is not on top of my list right about now. The ones that do find some emotional attachment to you tend to treat you like a fucking child, and I think having a bib put on me for Sunday breakfast after a night of swapping bodily fluids would simply freak me the fuck out.

But those are simply generalizations based on my personal experiences, that's all. I'm actually open to whoever might find themselves in my life, looks becoming less and less important as I get older and I recognize the value of someones personality and other non cosmetic traits.(I even contemplated dating a midget once, but had to be snapped back into reality when simple common sense set it. For starters we had nothing in common, also if I dated her it would be solely because she would make my penis seem bigger) But there are a few personality traits, based on who I am and the silly want ad that's at the beginning of this post, that a woman must have if I want to unfortunately brand her with the title of Mrs. Humanity F. Critic.

Easy-Going: If you haven't figured out by my constant "..and then I throat chopped that motherfucker" stories, I am easily excitable. Not only do I have the hyperactivity of a 5 year old on crack, my conversations sometimes piss people off because I will constantly change subjects akin to a Robin Williams stand-up routine. That being said, I already know that the woman that I intend to curse with lifelong pre-ejaculatory rituals has to be a very calming, easy going soul. Someone who could quickly diffuse my temper with a simple grin, making me embarrassingly back down from possibly wanting to beat some preacher who inappropriately called me a sinner in church that day. The last thing I need is someone who condones violence and gets off on it, like a woman named Rosa that I dated a while back. She would literally incite altercations where I would throat-chop some asshole and afterwords she would get so excited that we would have a hard time making home that night without me filling her out like an application. I quickly learned my lesson when she started shit with the wrong dude and I stepped up, about to beat him into submission. Turns out that he was an off-duty cop, surrounded by about 6 other off-duty cops, and they were intent to show me the directors cut of the Rodney King tape up close and personal. I miss Rosa, I wish she would return my calls, but I guess the image of a drunk grown man running for his life isn't the sexiest image a gal could have.

Intelligent: Do you want to know what's worse than a stupid person, a stupid person who is convinced that their smart. I'm not saying that I want a Rhodes Scholar, a woman who's habits include rocket science or some other brilliant skill that I can't wrap my feeble mind around, just some one with a respectable amount of intellect. Don't we all have that friend who constantly says untrue and silly things like they are the gospel, leaving you and your other friends looking at each other in that "what in the fuck are they talking about" face? Well, my goal is to not have one of those people be my future wife, that's all. I once dated a woman who didn't know who the president was, in a conversation revealed she didn't know who shot JFK, asked me what Harriet Tubman did, and looked at me like a deer in headlights when I mentioned Run D.M.C.(The bar isn't set that fucking high people!!) Granted, there are some benefits to dating women who are cerebrally challenged, but since my days of playing Russian roulette with my cock are over that isn't an option anymore. Besides I have a very bad habit of talking to people like they are stupid anyway, a habit that I am desperately trying to break, so I would want a wife with a respectable amount of intellect so I won't make a mistake and talk my way out of some drawers.

Funny: If I could give anyone some real advice, I would say to never alter your personality to suit anyone. Never. I have found myself toning down my language and what I thought was funny just to appease someone I really liked, to make them feel comfortable. Not any more, fuck that, you knew who you were dealing with when I told you those "I once fucked a girl at a wake" and "Oh Yeah, I almost set a guy on fire" stories, so excuse me if I don't tone it down when I see you squint each time I say "motherfucker", call my friend "a catcher" who weirdly likes to tell a story of getting raped in jail, and asking him if the guy had the decency to give him a "reach around". I'm not saying that whoever I get with has to keep me in stitches like Ike Turner, but at least have the ability to laugh and make light of most things. I've dealt with women as uptight as virginal female astronauts, and for a person who likes to be as blue as smurf testicles, it can be an uncomfortable situation.

Loyal: I know this is going to sound weird coming for a guy who once dated 2 women at the same time, not only knowing that they worked at the same department store but the same specific department, but loyalty is a big thing with me. I also had to admit something to myself recently, I'm one jealous motherfucker. Not jealous in a "let me follow you around and show stalker tendencies" kind of way, but a way where the thought of her cheating will run through my mind even if she is 10 minutes late for dinner and shit. It's so bad with me that my ex girlfriend, someone who was loyal to me as far as I know, was doomed for failure from the beginning because I would always quickly see her put away her cell phone any time I re-entered a room. From that point on, right or wrong, that relationship was put on auto-pilot due to my trust issues. Once I find a woman who I would lie in court for, I know that I have a woman that I would love for the rest of my life.

Negro Please!!! Shut the Fuck up Vince...

Vince Carter on Kobe scoring 81 points: "It is great for the league, for him, just because of the buzz it has created," said Vince Carter, who this season with the Nets tied his career high of 51 points. "The only bad thing about it is younger kids, whose minds are easily warped, are going to think, 'Ohhh! I am going to go out there and do it' instead of the team concept...

Huh? Toronto residents and outright basketball fans can back me up on this one, isn't this the same motherfucker who admitted to tanking games while in Toronto to force them to trade him?? Where was your concept of team then Vince?? Hate Kobe all you want, but even his harshest crtitics will admit that he leaves his heart and soul on the basketball court and would never "dog it" like Vince did. Out of all the shit I have heard, from someone saying "The Lakers suck" as their uber articulate response to Kobe's 81, people nit-picking his assist total when he doesn't have anyone to pass to, this has to officially be the dumbest example of Kobe hatred thus far. Some detractors need to simply start throwing their feces against the wall, at least your drivel would be taken more seriously instead of spouting such incoherent arguments.

Monday, January 23, 2006

HumanityCritic: The habitual "Guy Code" breaker

My mother told me that she knew that I would always walk to the beat of a different drummer when during my 3rd birthday party, I grabbed my birthday cake and licked the entire thing so no other kids could have any. Another story she always likes to tell is the time I was sitting on a department store Santa's lap, and when he didn't immediately produce the gift I had asked for I started to continuously kick old St. Nick in his "North Pole" nuts, all the while laughing hysterically. But trying to be an individual can also lead to some foolish decisions as well, like me wearing a Peach bow-tie at my prom, coming off as an uber feminine pimp. I have also missed out on some pretty good Hip Hop, like The Beastie Boys and Wu Tang Clan, because I foolishly thought that liking these groups would lump me in with everyone else.

I have relaxed my quest for individualism quite a bit, finding nothing wrong with occasionally grazing with the other sheep, but there are some things that I will never go along with regardless how many people follow the same path. One of those things is the often talked about unwritten "guy code" that most men claim that they follow religiously. See the other day, after I witnessed a stripper named "Cadillac" skillfully pick up dollar bills with her butt-cheeks at a bachelor party I attended, I found myself having an interesting back and forth with the erotic dancer in question. I was wearing a Kobe Bryant jersey, so she leaned in and said, "Can I ask you a question?" As I pulled out some handi-wipes and cleaned off the glitter and the moldy stripper sweat that she had accidentally dripped on my body, I said "Sure, only if you back the fuck up a couple of feet first!" With a look of disgust on her face she said, "How can you like Kobe? He's an asshole!" Being a Kobe Bryan fan, I am used to hearing the most asinine and painfully uninteresting reasons to hate another human being possible, so I tried not to roll my eyes and said, "OK, why is he an asshole??"

She gave me "answer #2" in what I call "The Jackasses manual for Kobe hatred", you know, the one about Kobe "snitching on Shaq" and how he violated the "guy code". Of course I have heard this argument many times before, but this is the first time I really thought deeply about the unwritten rule, and came to the conclusion that I am a habitual breaker of said rules. Even though she quickly took her breasts out of my face and immediately went to a less germaphobic schmo after my ramblings, I had to say, "You know, I wouldn't had done that personally, but why should a person be loyal to a motherfucker that hasn't historically been loyal to you? If that's part of some unwritten code, then call my black ass a habitual code offender. *Sniff* *Sniff* Hey, is that you smelling like that??"

I don't know maybe I'm an asshole, but its my belief that if you don't fall under the category of "friend" or "family member", I don't owe you a motherfucking thing. Here are some times where I have, for all intents and purposes, proverbially wiped my ass with the flimsy document entitled the "guy code".

Cheating Boyfriend: I have a friend named Maxine that I have known since I was little, she is one of my closest friends that I would gladly lay my life on the line for. She has been supportive through the rough times, and has told me the uncut truth even when I didn't want to hear it. I have reciprocated the friendship as well, like the time I beat one of her boyfriends with a VCR after I learned that he had assaulted her(don't ask), or the time that I paid a handful of ghetto ass girls with marijuana to beat the shit out of some tramps that had previously jumped Maxine at a party. There was no question that I would always have her back, that was until she started dating a dude I was already weary of named Darryl. I mean, he was cool to me, and as long as Maxine was happy then why should I bombard her eardrums with my concerns of what kind of "douche-bag" I thought he was? That was until, on a date myself seeing a movie, I saw Darryl lip locked with a woman other than Maxine a few rows in front of me. All of that "guy code" horseshit was going through my mind, how I shouldn't tell my dear friend of her boyfriends obvious indiscretions, but in the meantime I did whatever I could to avoid him seeing me that night though.

When the movie let out wouldn't you know it, I came face to face with Darryl by the movie's restrooms. I'll give it to him, he was smooth, telling me that he "knew" that I would "uphold the guy code" and not tell Maxine. I wrestled with my decision for a long time, well, if you consider a long time being approximately 20 minutes. Some guys would look at me telling my good friend of her boyfriends cheating as some sort of "guy code violation", but to me it's more of a "human violation" to keep that information to myself and protect a motherfucker that wouldn't piss on me if I was on fire.

If that's your girl, she wasn't last night: Men, for Christs sake, if you take anything from this silly blog let it be the following: Never talk about who you are romantically involved with, to anybody!! The less people know the better, that's my motto!! Let me explain: There was this beautiful woman that works at the local gas station by my house, she is absolutely breath-taking in a "Dorothy Dandridge" sort of way, but I became tongue tied around her for some reason. Usually I have a wealth of confidence, but she was so beautiful I sincerely thought that she wasn't in my league and that she would turn me down like a kamikaze pilot, so I suffered in silence and liked her from afar. That was until I was in my local watering hole and I saw her enter the bar to pick up some food she ordered, then she briefly talked to the cook for a few minutes. I didn't know the cook for shit, and from what I had heard about him he was an asshole, but when he was on his break he sat beside me and smoked a cigarette. Me being the nosy fuck that I am, without being blatant about it and asking him if he was intimate with her, I tried to lure him in by innocently saying how "beautiful" she was. It worked because this motherfucker ran his mouth like an old lady at a tea party, he not only told me that he was "hitting it on the regular" but showed me pictures of her backside that he had secretly taken with his camera-phone when she was asleep.

Immediately my confidence went through the roof, not because I look like Denzel or anything, but because this blabbering idiot looked like a bona fide treasure troll. Imagine Danny De Vito on the show "Taxi", minus the good looks and sex appeal. The next day, armed with a confidence only rivaled by Tiger Woods when he enters the final day of a competition 10 strokes ahead, I went into that woman's place of employment like I was a Hip Hop version of Billy D. Williams.(minus the Colt 45) Granted, this is before my recent bouts with germaphobia and my fear of being "burned" like a Fireman from casual sex, but it worked, and the young lady in question soon became acquainted with my well documented 3 minutes of sexual bliss. Was what I did fucked up? Sure, but like I said, if you aren't a friend or a family member it's every man for himself. Hey, at least I didn't take her out to eat at the same restaurant that that cook works at for Christs sake!!

Criminal Minded: Let me tell you, I am the last person that you will see throwing a party for someone when they get out of jail or glamorizing criminality any way possible. It's just not me, the same way it's not in my nature to follow the "No snitching" rule that most men religiously abide by in the "guy code" handbook. Of course I wouldn't snitch if, lets say, I am part of a bank-robbing ring and I'm the only one to get caught. The fact that I was involved in said crime, I would deserve whatever I got, and wouldn't bring anyone down with me. Also, if I knew the whereabouts of a family member or close friend who was wanted for some particular crime, their secret would definitely be safe with me, I wouldn't say anything. That's it!! One time a dude who I bought weed off of once was caught up in some bullshit and the cops were questioning me as well, saying that I would do a few years because of my "supposed involvement" if I didn't tell them his whereabouts. Sure, they were just trying to lean on me a bit, and it never got to the "me snitching" stage, but if you think for one god damned minute that I would do 5 years in jail for not only a crime that I didn't commit, but a motherfucker that I hardly knew, then you have another thing coming. Shit, do you know how I spend my Sundays when I'm not downloading porn, writing raps, or throat-chopping assholes in a single bound?? I am watching "Crime Solvers", to see if I can get an easy thousand bucks for snitching on some idiotic criminal that I might know the whereabouts of. Fuck your guy code, that's good money, don't knock it until you've tried it.

Rumble Young Man Rumble!!!!!

Last night, as I saw Kobe score 55 points in the second half of a game where he would eventually score 81, I thought about all the people that certified Kobe hating journalists said were better than Kobe Bryant like Dwayne Wade and Manu Ginobili last year.(Both great players) Based on his performance last night, and this season thus far, I would say that Mahalia Jackson is singing and the casket is being lowered on that flimsy argument. As the Heat have a very uninspired season, and Shaq is gaining weight like he has a fucking gravy I.V in his arm, I would say that Jerry Buss made the right decision.

Thank You!!

Thank you to all those who participated in the rap battle, I'll do more of that in the future. In the meantime, feel free to drop a quick 16 bars in the coment section of that post if you'd like.

Friday, January 20, 2006

"There's no Crying in the Blogisphere!!!"

I always knew that my 25 year career of sporadic violence would come back and karma-cally bite me in the ass at the end, but I didn't know in what way exactly. I remember chasing a dude named Derek three blocks with a hammer in my hand, with nothing but bad intentions flowing through my veins, I knew at the time that I would regret the violent act I was about to be a part of. When I got in a public dispute with some random woman at a club some years back, I knew that I would pay for knocking her man out, even though his only crime was being yanked on the arm by his girlfriend after she said "I bet you won't say that shit to my man!" While I was standing over a bouncer in a piss infested bathroom who I had just viciously chopped in the throat, only because he gave me some shit about wearing a "skull cap" a few days earlier at his place of employment, I knew that god would one day deal with me accordingly.

The days of me trying to act like a black version of Joe Pesci's character in "Goodfellas" long gone, despite a few scuffles here and there, I have done pretty well, I think, on my road to recovery.(Even though, I just found out how to track people back from their IP addresses who talk shit, thanks to a computer savvy friend that I have. Just imagine, me showing up on someones doorstep with a bat in my hand, with a menacing look, saying "What was that shit you said on my blog again motherfucker??" *Shaking head* Ooops, sorry, this is about recovery.) But since those days I have been waiting to see how I would be punished, it wasn't my ex leaving me because I was emotionally unavailable to her, so we're even in my opinion. No illnesses to think of, no recent ass whippings, I haven't been depressed in years, I was staring to think that god gave Humanity F. Critic a pass on my violent outbursts.

But the man above having a sense of humor, over the past few months, hit me with the biggest punishment a wanna-be macho asshole like myself could stand. So big in fact, it took me a few weeks to even start writing this post and openly admit to something so embarrassing. Here goes: Over the past few months, for some reason or another, I have started crying at the most inopportune moments. It's pathetic, I can't even use it as a ploy to get miscellaneous pieces of ass because I am the ugliest cry-er in the world. So ugly that a makeup-less Mary J. Blige would even say that I'm an ugly cry-er, that's bad.

Cooley High: I love this movie, and must have seen it about 100 times so far. Even though I have heard a hand full of black folks diss it over the past few years as being "blaxploitation", I think it is a great coming age film, a true teen flick a decade before John Hughes Directed "16 Candles"(Interesting Tidbit: The star of this movie, Glenn Turman, was originally cast in the role of Han Solo but George Lucas later changed his mind and decided to cast Harrison Ford.) Anyway, they were having a black film fest in my city a few months back and I decided to see it solely because they were showing "Coley High". I just thought it would be cool seeing one of my favorite movies on a full movie screen, plus, seeing 6 foot Afro's is never a bad thing in my honest opinion. So I go to the theater with a couple of my boys, Frank, who is a 14 year veteran of the marines, and Johnny, a pediatrician who wouldn't have any clients if those parents knew all the shit we got into growing up. We all sat down and I'm armed with quite the arsenal of popcorn, drink, a small bottle of Jack Daniels to put in said drink, I was set. The movie was great, even though I had seen it about 100 times before, then it happened! Something that I didn't expect, especially from a person who could recite the script verbatim as if I had written it myself, but I felt a huge lump in my throat when Cochise died. I tried to suppress it, breathing deeply, shaking my head vigorously, but nothing happened. Tears flowed down my face, I sat there motionless, hoping that my uber macho posse wouldn't notice. I thought it worked, until Frank loudly asked, "Are you crying motherfucker??" Then went on to alarm the rest of the crowd, like they were all high school friends of our and shit, "Hey y'all, do any of you have a tissue for HumanityCritic, my little sister?" For someone with a pretty quick wit, I pretty much took their shit because I was as shocked as anyone. Shit, when we all went out to eat later and they pointed me in the direction of a Bridal dress store I still lacked a significant retort.

"The Office": Even though I respect the American incarnation of "The Office", Steve Carrell is brilliant, just see his performance in the "40 Year old Virgin" to be a witness to his genius. But nothing beats, in my opinion, the original version starring Ricky Gervais, who plays the role of "clueless boss" with utter perfection. The way his employees loathe him, the pregnant pauses after his unfunny jokes, the delusional thoughts that he has that he is well respected, all that is what makes this show a gem in my opinion. I bet you are asking yourself, "why in the world would HC cry over this show?" Good question, let me explain. A running theme throughout this show is the attraction between two characters named Tim and Dawn. Even though Tim knows that his love for Dawn will never be realized because Dawn is marrying a douche-bag named Lee, he foolishly declares his love for her right before she goes off with Lee to America. She turns him down flat(remember, this show is supposed to be a faux documentary, so Tim is embarrassed on television) Fast forward the following Christmas, when Dawn is invited back to England to attend a Christmas party her old job is having.(Fuck!! This has become a soap opera) To make a long story short, on her way back home from the party, in the cab realizing how much Tim loved her and supported her and how her current boyfriend didn't, she returns to the party and gives Tim a loving kiss and embrace. As I saw that, sitting beside a chick who I had planned on seeing parts of her only her OB/GYN and maybe a million other guys have seen, I didn't realize that tears were strolling down my face. I screamed, "What in the fuck is happening??!!", in which she honestly answered, "Aww that's cute, it really is. I'm just not fucking you now, Pussy!!"

Hurricane Katrina: When it comes to someone passing, I have a weird and unexpected way of mourning. When my old man died I pretty much cried immediately, balling my eyes out to A Tribe Called Quest's "Scenario" remix outside of the hospital he was being treated at. When Buddy died, I didn't find myself crying until about a month later, in the shower getting ready for a date. Even though those were people that I loved and cared about that actually passed, I never thought that I would release the same fluids from my tear ducts concerning Hurricane Katrina.

After watching my helpless brothers and sister suffer in what is supposed to be the richest nation in the world, seeing Bush "Barney Fife" his way through another crisis, and seeing images of bodies floating in the diseased infested waters of New Orleans definitely outraged me to no end. I did what I could in the days surrounding Katrina, gave what I could like most of you did. But it didn't really hit me until we had band practice over Mitch's house(our drummer) one humid night. As the rest of the guys were in the other room chatting, throwing back a few beers, I am in our practice room watching the coverage and talking to Mitch's 13 year old daughter, Michelle, at the same time. My eyes glued on the screen, not believing how my people were being treated in this country, then all of a sudden she starts playing the piano and singing a song. Innocent enough, until I started hearing the words of the song, it was Stevie Wonder's "Misrepresented People". She began to sing the following:

In 1492 you came upon these shores.
Seven hundred years, educated by the moors;
17th Century-- genocide and the gun
Middle Passage blessed to market the Africans.

In the so-called “Land of God”
My kind were treated hard.
From back then until now
I see, and you agree--
We have been a misrepresented people.

From back then until now
Just see my family tree;
We have been a misrepresented people.
We have been a misrepresented people

With those harmonious yet haunting words coming from this childs mouth, on top of the sight of the people of New Orleans fighting for their lives, begging, pleading, I put my head in my hands and began to weep uncontrollably. Michelle put her arm around me and said, "It will be alright HumanityCritic", to where I responded "It's not that.." She said, "What do you mean?", in which I replied, "Do you know how hard it's going to be for me to get any random "internet patch" after women read this??" Hey, I never said that I was a fucking role model.

Friday Rap Battle!!

Ok, here it is Ladies and Gentlemen, keep it clean.(If you want) Drop your hottest rap lines in honor of true Hip Hop. I guess I'll go first.

Let me start this off by saying I'm a mixture of booze and barbiturates/
Verbally sick with it, holding a Oxycontin trying to figure out what to mix it with/
Articulate, pleasuring various women in my area and calling it community Outreach/
When in reality I give lengthy sermons on masturbation and I practice what I preach/
This one chick from Belize did some shit you wouldn't believe/
She had me begging for the booty not understanding that I'd wait in vein like a blood disease/
So I eloquently stated my point, the whole time rolling a phat joint/
The next thing I knew she gave it up faster than a prostitute being held at gunpoint/
So Then there was an epidemic at the clinic, I was scared y'all/
Clutching my doctors jacket screaming, "Like a wack female wrestler, women are my downfall!!"/
I was clean but felt strung out, until my ex girlfriend was "brung" out/
I forgot I nicknamed her "Jordan", because she plays with many balls with her tongue out/
But I quickly dismissed her advances when an MC stepped up wanting to battle Humanity/
But it was a transvestite rapper, so I said "This chick really has some balls to battle me!!"/
Despite a 5 O'clock Shadow and deep voice, he/she couldn't stop me/
I said "Meet me on my blog" and "Your going down faster than a lesbian kamikaze"/
As if I was scheduling a hooker this is my best laid plan/
Bloggers step your ass up and spit what you can behind the mic stand/

Wilson Pickett 1941 – 2006

Even though I sang his song "Midnight hour" on the phone to women who questioned me about my latenight sex visits, and the nickname of "Mustang Sally" I gave to an ex girlfriend because of her unbelievable skill at a certain sexual position, Mr. Wilson Pickett was a legendary soul singer who died recently of a heart attack. Rest in Peace Brother.

Wednesday, January 18, 2006

I am the "Hooptie King"

Due to my bouts with germaphobia and not wanting to catch a disease that would make my cock fall completely off, sometimes I feel that I have retired my "sex" Jersey and now it is in the rafters for all to see.(I always envisioned the number on that Jersey being 02, as in minutes) Of course I can be like Michael Jordan, un-retire myself if the right woman comes along, one who enjoys independent film, hip hop, and a porn collection that would make Larry Flynt sick to his stomach. But in the meantime, you don't know how pathetic it is to tell old stories of me folding a woman like origami on my couch like it was a recent event, when my friends go into their recent sexual conquests. It's sad man, then it got even worse when a friend called me out and said, "Why do all your stories end with '..and then I fucked her on my couch'? I bet your couch would glow like Sho-Nuff in "The Last Dragon" if we put it under a black light!" He had a point.

Then, bless his little "non hip hop listening" heart, he gave me the title of "The Sofa King." I dug the title but quickly told him that that was a MF Doom song, and even though I have had more crazy broads on my couch than psychiatrists, I wouldn't feel right biting Doom's style. So because the titles "Mattress King", "Fold out bed King", and "Couch King" don't have the same ring to it, I tried to figure out what in the fuck I was "king" of exactly. Let's see, how about "Jerk off king"? No that won't work, primarily because there has to be some poor bastard out there who touches himself more than I do, also people would probably think that I wasn't the recipient of said "jerking".(I'm all man baby!!) Here you go, how about the "Throat-Chop King", that has a pretty god ring to it. No, wait, I heard some random minstrel show rapper(platinum grill) refer to the term "Throatchop" as a euphemisms for oral sex, so that ruins that title for me completely. Then it hit me, as I saw a man broke down on the side of the road while his car overheated, I am the "The Hooptie King!" Let me explain:

See, even though I currently have a car that couldn't be classified as a "Hooptie"(Piece of crap car), for years following my obtaining a drivers license and through my college years, I was one "Hooptie" having motherfucker. Even though my old man was a master mechanic and I should have definitely paid more attention to him for automotive knowledge, the mere fact that I have had more beat up cars than junkyards I think qualifies me to get any mechanic job in my city if I wanted. So the other day, as I changed the oil of a woman that once experienced my pre-ejaculatory rituals up close and personal, I was insulted when she said, "You just don't know how it is to have a crappy car!!" Ok, let the debunking begin.

Transmission Fluid Leaks: Even though I would prefer this type of leakage over the STD variety, I am a grizzled veteran of various fluids leaking from my automobile. When I was in college I had a 85 Chevy spectrum, which was not only the easiest car to steal(I read that somewhere) but at that particular time it leaked transmission fluid like crazy, leaving a red trail like a wounded animal who just got the business end of a shotgun blast. I know, I know, my old man was a mechanic, but I would have tried anything to avoid degrading comments and a lengthy ass lecture to be totally honest. I must have spent hundreds of dollars on fluid, constantly filling it up, trying to stop that revving sound as my car desperately attempted to move, buying "stop leak", you name it I tried it. One thing I noticed is, unbelievably, is the degree of anger people feel when you leave a puddle of transmission fluid in their driveway. A friend wanted to fight me, a girl I was dating suggested that I take the bus to her house, my own mother told me to "park my 'that time of the month, transmission bleed mobile' down the street." The most embarrassing thing that I remember is getting a phone call from a girl that I was dating, she said "I saw that you stopped by to see me today!" I said, "Did your sister tell you that I stopped by?", in which she responded, "No, I saw the trail that you left." Great.

Gas leaks: When I was in my first year of college my father had what he characterized as a "drug intervention" for me. It wasn't the hearts and flowers shit you see on "Lifetime", his version was pointing at his gun and telling me that he would lodge a bullet in my backside if I was a "junkie", as he so succinctly put it. I had no idea what he was talking about, I smoked weed but not on the regular, so I asked him, "What in the world is your crazy ass talking about??" He told me how I always looked out of it, my eyes were always glassed over, and when I would come home after a full day of class I would sound incoherent. I had no idea what he was talking about, not at all, until the following Saturday when he took my car for an innocent trip to the corner store. I forgot what I was dreaming about, pouring chocolate over Sade, or a romantic tryst with the girls from "Oaktown 357", but he woke me out of my sleep screaming "You stupid motherfucker!!" He informed me, for probably more than a month, that I had a gas leak where the fumes were going into my car and I was inhaling them the same way Ruben Studdard inhales a rotisserie chicken. Ok, it makes sense now, I was wondering why my World Civilization night class was so goddamn funny.

Oil leaks: These leaks are the trickiest because they can come from so many places, but through my "Hooptie" years I felt like Jed Clampett because of all the oil I found. Let me tell you, you think that people get a little hot under the collar when you leak transmission fluid on their property, try leaving dark tar like engine oil in their driveway. One time I was visiting my friend Cory over his parents house for a party they were having, two deeply religious people that I respect tremendously. During the party his father rushes in the room, grabs me by the arm and ushers me outside. He points and says, "Is this your car HumanityCritic, because there is oil all over the place!" After I fessed up, I heard three words come out of the mouth of a man that not only taught Sunday school, but told me the benefits of having the "lord" in my life, he said, "Motherfucking Jesus Christ!!" After he fell to his knees and begin scrubbing his driveway like a ghetto Cinderella pre-ball, I made my exit immediately, the whole time him yelling profanities at me and letting me know the new and innovating ways to be called a "Bastard". Amen brother!

Oil Leaks(Part 2)The most vivid memory of my oil leak issues happened years ago, when I wasn't keeping up with my re-oiling duties. As I went to class I was aware that I was in dire need to put oil in my car, but I figured that I would put some in before class, no big deal really. But on the way there, in a Chevy Chase moment ala those "Vacation" movies, a beautiful Latina pulls beside me at a light and flashes me a "come hither" look. She was hot, and right before I could roll down my window and tell her the benefits of being with a chronic pre-ejaculator she pulls off, racing down the street. As the all around pervert that I am, I floor it and try to desperately catch up to her. Right when I get even with her my fucking engine locks up, all the dashboard lights come on, and I coast my sorry ass in a neighborhood that millionaires live in. The neighborhood is important because they have constant police patrols there, and in no time 4 cop cars were surrounding my black ass like I had just tried to assassinate a public official.

Muffler issues: A word to the wise for anyone wanting to sneak up on somebody and beat there ass, make sure you have a good muffler. Let me explain. I was playing basketball some years back and got into a scuffle with some asshole who kept talking shit. I was handling him pretty well, that was until his boys jumped me in and introduced me to the fine art of "getting jumped" I'm old school, if you beat me one on one I can take the loss and keep it moving, sincerely. But getting jumped is another story, so like I told a date after I spent 200 dollars on her as we were standing on her porch, someones got to pay.(Just kidding, kind of) So my plan, because I found out where each dude lived, was to systematically get my revenge like I was in a Karate movie and shit. Problem was, all of them were hanging at one location, so because they knew how my muffler sounded they heard my black ass when I was a block away, so they waited to ambush me. I narrowly escaped, vowing to "come back like I'm revenging my brothers death"(As Kool G Rap put it in "The Symphony") After I swallowed my pride and had my old man fix my muffler, a few days later as I am beating one of thos assholes in front of his girlfriend, I screamed "You didn't hear me coming this time motherfucker!!"

I, HumanityCritic, Challenge you to a Rap Battle!!!

Even though this has been done before and I hate to follow in anyone's foot steps, but I have been a part of a couple of displays of lyrical wizardry on some cool blogs so I thought I'd try it here. Here's the deal, this Friday, for all willing to participate, is a rap battle where I want you to drop your best 16 bars.(More or less) Here's something I wouldn't say every day, based on my fear of catching vernerial diseases and urgently monitoring how I feel as I urinate after a piece of questionable sex , but bring the heat!

What Liberal Media??

While browsing the internet for porn, Hip Hop, and wondering why in the fuck a ninny shithead like Michelle Malkin is a part of "blacklogs" which I'm a part of, I came across a story where CNN hired this douchebag Glen Beck. Wondering why I bring this up, check out some of his comments. Liberal Media my ass...

Taken from MediaMatters.org

On families of the victims of the September 11, 2001, terrorist attacks: "[T]his is horrible to say, and I wonder if I'm alone in this -- you know, it took me about a year to start hating the 9-11 victims' families? Took me about a year."

On Hurricane Katrina survivors who remained in New Orleans: "And that's all we're hearing about, are the people in New Orleans. Those are the only ones that we're seeing on television are the scumbags -- and again, it's not all the people in New Orleans. Most of the people in New Orleans got out! It's just a small percentage of those who were left in New Orleans, or who decided to stay in New Orleans, and they're getting all the attention."

Discussing disclosures from a caller who claimed to have tortured prisoners in U.S. custody: "I've got to tell you, I appreciate your service. ... Good for you. Good for -- I mean, good for you. Is it because you did it for the country? ... I have to tell you, when all is said and done, I'm glad people like you are on our side."

On filmmaker Michael Moore: "Hang on, let me just tell you what I'm thinking. I'm thinking about killing Michael Moore, and I'm wondering if I could kill him myself, or if I would need to hire somebody to do it. No, I think I could. I think he could be looking me in the eye, you know, and I could just be choking the life out -- is this wrong?"

On the father of Nick Berg, American civilian executed in Iraq: "The want to be a better person today than I was yesterday says he's a dad, he's grieving, but I don't buy that. I'm sorry, I don't buy it. I think he is grieving, but I think he's a scumbag as well. I don't like this guy at all."

Monday, January 16, 2006

A Complete Idiots Guide to Having a Black friend

(This is something I wrote about a year ago, so in Honor of the Martin Luther King holiday I thought I would repost it, plus I have a sneaking suspicion that it's my most popular entry thus far.) I kept wanting to tinker with it, but I'll leave it as is..)

I know that I give my republican friend Danny an ample amount of shit concerning his politics and some of his idiosyncrasies, but I have to give him credit today. During the tenure of our friendship he has said some incredibly dumb things, but none of those things had anything to do with race or stereotypes so I appreciate that fact. I know that anybody, black or white, who doesn't have experience being around someone of another race may have certain misconceptions, but for Christs sake it is 2005 man! Through my personal experience of encountering specific idiocy, I created a guide to anyone you know who is racially challenged.

1)Not a compliment Part 1: I can't tell you how many times I have heard, "You are pretty cool for a black guy!". What in the fuck does that mean exactly? So you are telling me that the entire race that I belong to is virtually worthless and I am the only motherfucker that you have ever found cool?? How despicable. Granted, I haven't heard this recently but I heard this a lot as a kid.

2)Not a compliment Part 2: I know Chris Rock covered this but it is so very true, when people say "You are so well spoken!" that has to be the most offensive shit ever. What did you expect to come out of my mouth exactly? Did you think I would carry on like Mush-mouth from Fat Albert and shit?? Thats what happens when people get their concept of what black folks are from music videos.

3)"Talking Black": I have actually had people of other races say "You talk white", which is offensive when it comes out of the mouths of black folks as well. Let me break this down for the black folks that have involved themselves in this idiocy of "talking black" also. OK, Arthur Ashe, to many people of the douchebag variety "talked white", but his activism and his love for black culture made him "blacker" than Jay-Z or any garden variety asshole who you feel is "black" today. Matter of fact, I want to systematically assassinate any black person who involves themselves in this bullshit argument. To measure blackness based on your colloquialism is downright foolishness, and if you do that then your sorry ass better watch less B.E.T

4)My Hair Part 1: How many years have dreadlocks been part of popular culture?? Millions of people know who Bob Marley is right? OK, so why do many people say, "Oh, I absolutely love your braids!!" Stevie Wonder had braids during the 70's, I think that fruity ass Leroy from "Fame" had braids during that show, what I have is not braids goddammit!! But black folks do the same shit, and I hate to be such a hard ass but motherfucker you should know better.

5)My Hair Part 2:(This goes to black folks as well) When did it become OK for a total stranger to come up to you and pull your hair? Never you say? Great, that doesn't give you the license to touch, pull, tug, or stroke someone's hair simply because they have dreadlocks. If you want to feel my hair or touch it, especially if you are a prime piece of ass, simply ask first. But remember, I am not a fucking puppy! I can't tell you how many times I had to curse someone the fuck out simply because they pulled my hair randomly.

6)Blacks hate Bush: Granted, there is a despicable group of black Americans who like Bush, but those are self hating fuckers and they are not to be trusted any way. I can't tell you how many white women I have encountered, that date black men, who are far right wing republicans. I always want to tell them, "You didn't get the memo?? You gotta read that dude's instructional manual, he hates Bush Are you sure you didn't get the handbook?" People can believe in any political Ideology they want, I just find it kind of strange that's all.

7)I am not your bodyguard!: Why do people think that all black folks can fight? The other day, after hearing Danny's Death Metal band perform(torture), we all went to have a few drinks. I sort of know his band-mates, and when they had some words with a drunken patron one of Danny's band-mates said, "We will be OK, HumanityCritic has our back!" What motherfucker?? I barely know you, for all you know I could be a punk. I can't front though Danny does the same thing, he gets what I call "Urban Courage" when I am around but I let it pass because he has actually seen me knock dudes out.

8)Racist Teacher: I know that this doesn't exactly fit on this list so excuse my rant. My old man was absolutely conflicted. He was born in 1937 in Sumter South Carolina, so he saw real racism, not that "I can't get a cab shit" as Chris Rock so eloquently put it. He was witness to "Whites only" establishments and saw people lynched for Christs sake. He was conflicted because he spent 30 years in the Navy and had many great experiences with people of all races, so he battled the bad experiences with the good constantly. There is one lesson that he taught me early on that was pretty much prophetic. When I was in grade school he said, "There will be teachers that will say "HC, you got a C, very good!" and that same teacher will go to another student and say, "Bobby, you got a B, you can do much better". Don't fall for that shit!" I have issues with my old man till this day, but boy was he right.

9)The "N" Word: I wont get into any lengthy analytical discussions about the history of the "N" word or anything, I will just address it very simply. Black folks shouldn't even say the word, but at no point should anyone of any other race ever call me that. The most idiotic argument I hear is, "But why can't I say it?" But my question is, "Motherfucker, why would you want to say it??" All groups call themselves terms of endearment that are only cool in their specific circles, but if someone outside their circle says it then there is trouble. I have two friends, one Mexican and one Puertorican, who call themselves Latin slurs all the time. I know better than to utter the same slurs their way. Two women I know call each other "bitches", but I would never call them that. It is that simple.

10)Idiotic Questions: When someone would ask me something idiotic I used to brush it off and say, "They just don't know better" But goddammit, it's 2005 for Christs sake, no more excuses. If you have to ask a black person "Does your hair get wet?" or "Do you wash your dreadlocks?", something is seriously wrong with you and it makes me want to put on steel toe boots and kick you dead in the motherfucking chest.(I won't harm you though) I was watching 60 Minutes a while back and something disturbed me. You know that old fuck Andy Rooney, who does a editorial at the end of each show, well he said something like "Why do they have to have "B.E.T"? Why do they have to have a "Miss Black America"? If white people had these things Jesse Jackson and every black group would cause a fuss" Mr. Rooney, let me first say "Fuck you"! That being said, what about the years where black folks were excluded from programming altogether, or the vast amount of stations that don't represent black folks as a whole. I object to B.E.T's programming, but to bitch about the name of said network is pretty idiotic.

Friday, January 13, 2006

A Brief Friday Rant about Hip Hop

Unfortunately, for the past few years my favorite two words in my vocabulary have been the words "fuck" and "you", but I am trying to desperately expand my vocab and not be so abrasive. Like the other day when this gentleman that I know said that "Rakim was overrated", I wanted to put my two favorite words into action or just kick him in the chest, something subtle like that, but I took a deep breath and calmly debated him on his particular opinion. I felt I was making progress. Or the other day when an ex, and ex who just moved back from California and lives a street behind me now, came to my house unexpectedly saying how she wanted me back. I wanted to spray her with my water hose like one does when they catch two dogs fucking in their rose bushes, all the while saying my two favorite words in her direction. I mean, she did fuck two of my friends by the way, but I took a deep breath and articulately explained why we could never be together again. So the other day I felt good about my new found civility, I felt that I was making a change for the better, that was until I had a brief conversation with a younger Hip Hop fan.

As we discussed the wonderful world of two turntables and a microphone, I went on about the plethora of problems that I have with the art-form in its current state, in which he said "You old guys are always complaining about Hip Hop, like how your favorite artist fit in with the times, the new artists are just doing the same thing. You can't deal with the changing trends." I quickly started to get mad, but tried to desperately calm myself down, from doing breathing exercises to thinking about me peacefully running through the hills "Sound of Music" style. Nothing worked, I was pissed, so I stood in my best B-boy stance, smirked and said, "Fuuuck yoooou!!"

I'll tell you why I was pissed, because not only is that logic lazy and basically apologizing for the current state of Hip Hop, it is basically devoid of any rational thought imaginable. Let me explain. I know the old argument where one says, "Your grandparents didn't like your parents music, you parents didn't like your music", the whole "sign of the times" argument. The problem with that, in my honest opinion, is that Hip Hop doesn't follow along those same guidelines because the art form was founded on LYRICAL SKILL. As an MC you always had to not only have a fluid flow and a voice to match, you had to construct a solid 16 bars of lyricism that blew people away. I said this somewhere else before, but Hip Hop is like basketball. See, Kobe Bryant and Julius Erving, even though they come from two different era's, can sit together at a basketball game and pretty much agree on which players have skill and who doesn't. Having skills never changes, just like having a great lay-up or performing a precise jump-shot hasn't changed since Dr. James Naismith invented basketball in 1891, its the same way, spitting absolute flames and earning the title of MC hasn't changed since 1973.

So please, please, don't insult my intelligence by treating the horrible trend of bad hip hop in the same way one would categorize fads of the past like bell-bottom jeans or the motherfucking pet rock. So it is in my right to say that Lil flip sucks more than a prostitute with OCD, that when listening to "Dem Franchise Boyz" that I realize that I have heard more satisfying bowel movements, that I feel that Nelly sold his soul to the devil based on having so much success based on marginal talent, that platinum "grills" is the new blackface, that those guys who do that "Laffy Taffy" song have turned Hip Hop into a sort of "Special Olympics". Telling me to "stop complaining" about something that I have such high standards for is like being told to stop complaining about a local High School in your area with below average test scores and a low graduation rate, homelessness, high crime rates, just pick a goddamned epidemic. Or having a daughter who has a nasty cooked cocaine habit and being told, "Relax, she's just going through a crackhead phase..." What the fuck is that??

Thursday, January 12, 2006

Fun with Funerals

You know how you tend to talk about the weirdest shit possible when in a marijuana induced haze? Well, while enjoying the benefits of my friends horticulture skills and trying my best not to look at his wife's ass as she inappropriately cleaned the house while wearing Daisy Dukes, we laughed about a funeral that we had went to where I had called the girlfriend of the deceased a "dirty whore". That is when I think I killed my friend's buzz when I went into a lengthy diatribe about my own future funeral. I know this is going to sound weird but the same way I have always envisioned my wedding day, I have pictured how my funeral would go as well, detail by specific detail. I know, some pretty morbid shit, but I always pictured hundreds of people filing in a church as "The Roots" band plays something fitting, and as people cry hysterically over the untimely passing of Humanity F. Critic. My mother sitting there stoic, holding back tears, looking around surprised at how many people cared for me and how scantily dressed most of the women there are. Even though some of my ex girlfriends are currently married, they all cry their eyes out while throwing panties at the casket, acting in a way reminiscent of Jada Pinkett's performance in "Kingdom Come". Stevie Wonder would sing something touching during the proceedings, continuously stopping mid song to gather himself because of how emotional he was due to my current state. Rakim would recite an original poem, afterwords saying that he would be naming his next album "HumanityCritic" in honor of me. Some of the female bloggers who read my daily ramblings would interrogate my ex's, asking them "Is his dick really that small?" Some of the male bloggers who read my blog, along with Rakim and surprisingly Stevie Wonder, would gather outside the church and take turns freestyle rhyming in my honor while poring 40 oz's on the ground. Later that night a Old School Hip Hop show would also be held in my name, with the proceeds going to the "HumanityCritic, just go ahead and throatchop a motherfucker" college fund. I know, my imagination can get the better of me sometime.

As I sat and watched my friend roll up a Cheech and Chong size joint, trying to recapture a high that I ruined by talking about my own funeral, I thought about all the memorable funerals that I went to.(Warning: This post could possibly be a buzz kill)

The casket wasn't the only wood in the room: I have to be very delicate when telling this story, because if I reveal too much of this story countless amounts of people will be upset with me. Usually I wouldn't care, but the offense that I am about to tell you about is pretty severe, so you can imagine why I'm being so careful. Basically, I guess there isn't any way to put it, I had sex with a chick in the bathroom of a wake. Let me explain. The particular person that passed was extremely close to me and I have had no problem admitting that I have cried a few times in my life, but the wealth of tears that streamed from my eyes was pretty surprising to me. Right when I was about to wipe my tears and be a man again, I noticed a friend of the deceased family(a chick I knew, sorta) looking at me like I was a puppy dog in the window or some shit. She looked good though, one of those girls that was dressed formally but couldn't hide the fact that she was hotter than fish-grease under that "Little House and the Prairie" dress she had on. So I did what any man would do who hadn't had quality sex since the 3rd Tribe called quest album, I cried some more to get her attention. Then she came over to me, grabbed my arm, and ushered me into the bathroom to console me. She handed me some napkin's for my face, kept telling me that "It was going to be alright", and gave me a very long embrace. Right when the embrace was over she gave me a gentle kiss on the neck, which in turn induced wake-like "wood", so I kissed her back. That set off an Avalanche of sexual tension, tension that had me slipping on a condom that I had placed in my suit pocket earlier.(That is the level of pervert that I'm at people, that I would have a condom at a wake "just in case") Death must be the ultimate aphrodisiac or something, because for a guy who daily goes into my pre-ejaculatory rants and insecurity about my size, I gave this girl what I consider "cheesy jazz music, bad dialogue" porn sex. Even though she probably thought I was a very sensitive soul, due to my tears and my outburst of emotion, I know she was surprised when I whispered sweet nothings in her ear like, "Have you ever been fucked at a wake baby??!!" and romantic sentiments like that.

After we were finished and she gave me a "I thought I was giving you charity booty, not being called a 'dirty girl' while being bent over a bathroom sink" look on her face, we did our best to compose ourselves so people wouldn't know that I had, and I quote the great Ice Cube, "Knocked those boots from here to Albuquerque". As we left the bathroom I broke back into tears like I was an Oscar winner and shit, fooling everyone in attendance, everyone but my boy who came to me later on that evening. He said, "Y'all fucked, I could tell because you walked different!!" I said, "I walked different? She didn't fuck me, it was the other way around!", letting my male ego get the best of me, because I promised her that I wouldn't tell anyone. Oh well..

Beat down funeral style: A friend of mine that I went to college with, a dude named Drew, died in a horrible car accident one Christmas Eve. I had mixed feelings about going to his funeral because for one thing I have always hated funerals, but also I felt that I had been a shitty friend to him as of late so guilt consumed me a bit. But I finally decided to go, to wish my friend farewell and to be there for an all around great human being. As I sat in the packed church, people balling their eyes out in fits if hysteria, people read poems and performed songs in Drew's honor. I felt that I wanted to honor my friend as well, but for an hour or so I racked my brain trying to figure out how, and that's when I saw this asshole named Mark sitting behind Drew's girlfriend.

Mark was a guy that has been trying to be with Drew's girlfriend for years, basically he was Pluto to Drew's Popeye, a real lecherous son of a bitch. The mere fact that he attended Drew's funeral was the epitome of disrespect, and I knew right there that I would honor Drew's memory by beating the brakes off of Mark. The plan was for me to wait until the funeral was over, follow Mark home in my car, and beat him within an inch of his life like he had stolen my best porn tape. So right after the funeral was over, I went over to him and said, "Hey, you weren't Drew's friend, who invited you peasant??" In a very revealing moment he said, "We weren't friends, and yes, I am trying to fuck his girlfriend. What!!??" Me, still holding a bible that I forgot to put back in that compartment behind the chair in front of me, grabbed it with both hands and started beating mark with it.(Who else do you know has a "I once beat a guy with a bible at a funeral" story?) As I was landing punches ala Ralphie form "A Christmas Story", most of the men pulled me off of Mark and Drew's mother demanded that I leave. Well, that was until Drew's girlfriend told her why I was introducing Mark to the business end of my fist. At the end of the day I still felt that I was a shitty friend to Drew, but at least he knows that I will always have his back.

Say a little something!: I was asked a few years ago to say a few words about a gentleman that I had known for twenty years, not particularly a daunting task it would seem. But in this case it was, because even though the fellow that died was the son of my parents friends, what I knew about that son of a bitch could fill up a fucking thimble. I mean, we had about a dozen conversations in the tenure I knew him, but the only thing that I knew about him besides him being one creepy bastard was the fact that he enjoyed really bad Hip Hop. But it is hard to say no to a grieving mother with tears streaming down her face, begging you to get up to the podium and say some kind things about her son. As I walked up to the podium, searching my brain for some complimentary things to say about this dude I hardly knew, my mind went blank. Then, in a way that would make the founding father's of Hip Hop proud, I did a very MC-like thing and just freestyled random shit. No, I didn't rap, but I just went off the head with fictitious tales and quotes shared between me and this motherfucker I didn't know. I went on about how "caring" he was, the one time he "punched a horse" on a bet, his words of encouragement considering my rap career, and that time in Atlantic City when he saved me from a couple of highly upset transvestite prostitutes. I thought I had went too far with the last one, but even his parents were laughing at my bullshit stories of me and their son's non existent friendship. As people applauded my incoherent rants as I got off of stage and finally sat down in my seat, I felt someone poke me from behind. I turn around and see that it is the sister of the deceased, she smiled and said "You didn't really know my brother did you?" I smirked in an innocent "You got me, I ate all the cookies" look and said, "No, I didn't." She shook her head, patted me on the shoulder and said, "That's fucked up, but rather impressive."