Thursday, August 31, 2006

A HumanityCritic rant about turning 33..

Yes Ladies and Gentlemen, 33 years ago today James and Louise brought a bouncing baby boy of 8 pounds 9 ounces into the world on the island of Oahu. If you didn't catch the easiest hint in the world, yes, today is my motherfucking birthday. Every year on this day I do something that probably causes Jesus and everyone in his office to giggle like school girls, I get on my knees and pray. Before my knees ever touch the ground I can see Peter alerting the big guy, "Yo, HumanityCritic is about to pray!!", causing everyone to gather around their heavenly monitor to see what I'm about to pray for. I see them taking bets, one angel saying "I got a thousand that he begs for a dream date with Janeane Garolfalo!!", another one chimes in "No. I bet you my paycheck that he prays for a longer penis, that's what he always prays for!", someone else yells "You are all wrong! He's going to pray for that purple growth on his penis to go away!!" God, in his infinite wisdom and infallibility, just smiles, folds his arms and says, "Trust me, it's not that interesting.." Of course the almighty is right, I just pray that I stay in good health, I thank god for my mother and the fact that she beat breast cancer, my wonderful brother and sister, and the fact that I have avoided any STD even though I have penetrated women who's vagina's could have doubled for a petri dish. I imagine God saying, "I told you guys it wouldn't be that interesting, I am god by the way, hello!!" I can see Jesus strolling in and saying, "Lets just hope HumanityCritic's 33rd year will be better than the one I had!!" That's when I got up, hoping that I just didn't pray in the rug stain acquired from mass amounts of Internet porn, and started to weigh some of negative aspects of being 33. Here are a few.

Grey hairs: When I first started growing grey hairs I was excited, I mean, anything to make a violence prone sexual underachiever like myself more distinguished, I'm all for it. I couldn't wait to have a slew of grey hairs intermingled with the black ones throughout my dreadlocks, being able to successfully get a woman to count my ceiling tiles on the strength of me saying that I'm a professor or some shit like that. Well, I have plenty of grey hairs alright, but they aren't on my head..wait..the grey hairs ain't on the head that I think with..wait..fuck it, most of my grey hairs have congregated on my crotch. Sure there are a few in my locks and in my beard, but most of them dwell down below like an Australian lesbian. It's pretty disgusting, I have enough chicks hesitant to fuck me in the first place, the last thing I need is to have a crotch that resembles someones ashtray.

Dating younger women: I'm sure the slew of Pseudo-feminists who have attacked me for being a "woman hater" as of late will hate the next 2 paragraphs, but who gives a fuck what you hoe's think anyway?(Just playing, kinda.) Because I'm an unmarried 33 year old without any crumb-snatchers to speak of, I find myself in quite the predicament when it comes to dating. Dating younger women is cool, they are more open to suggestion based on the one time a chick agreed to come to the bedroom wearing a catholic school girl uniform while reciting the lyrics to "Paid in Full", they have a vest for life that is inspiring, having a barely legal harlot on your arm is quite the ego boost, and they enjoy when you tell them stories before nap time. The negatives, on the other hand, is when they stare at you like a deer in headlights when you mention old school Hip Hop of any kind, having to endure silly conversations concerning the lyrical prowess of Lil Wayne, and the fact that a person like Keisha Cole is her role model can be quite disturbing. But the ultimate negative, which is a big one, is that she will outgrow you and leave your as soon as that Love Jones hits you.

Dating women my age or older: Of course there are women of all ages out there who are wonderful human beings and would possibly be a great match for me, but this post ain't about them. Dating women my age or older has it's benefits, like it would be comforting to fuck a chick that actually remembered Ronald Reagan, we both could relate to music and pop culture as a whole based on our age, and if you are serious about her she would be willing to marry your ass based her "Shit, my internal clock is ticking louder than Big Ben and shit, let me marry this miserable bastard and have his demon seed" way of thinking. The downside, unfortunately, is that you would be dating a chick who has as much baggage as you do. Not all women, but some will make you pay the price for every guy that left her on the alter, fucked her best friend in the ass on her coveted linen, stole money out of her purse, even her ex boyfriend who once took a shit at her 21st birthday party.

Going to clubs: 33 is a weird age when it comes to going out to various nightspots around town. I mean, going to 21 and up clubs becomes difficult when I'm there as I look around at all the delectable barely legal ass, feeling like someones god-damned father. Then if I decided to go to clubs where older folks hang out, the majority of the patrons there aren't my age, closer to my mother's age would be more of an accurate description. I don't know about you, but humping a chick who smells like Ben gay as I play connect the dots on her liver spots doesn't really seem to be a great sexual encounter in my honest opinion.

Birthday Video of the Day: A Tribe Called Quest ft L.O.N.S: "Scenario"

Maybe I'm just an uber dork of poindexter proportions, but over the past few years, in my head, I have put together all the people who I'd want to work on my rap album. Sure I haven't rapped seriously in years and don't quite have the voice for MC'ing, but a boy can dream can't he? Anyway, I'd get my fictitious Hip Hop album produced by DJ Premier, Pete Rock, The Bomb Squad, with comedic skits by De La Soul, and guest appearances by Rakim, Kool G Rap, and MF Doom. But lastly, based on the strength of this youtube gem, I would make sure that Spike Lee was the director of every video I came out with.

Keith Olbermann bitchslaps Donald Rumsfeld

Happy Birthday, Humanity Critic!

It's that time of year again. Time to wish the Humanity Critic a very happy birthday! Be sure to vote for him as many times you can at the Blackweblogawards site, the info is to the right of this posting. Make a publicity whore's birthday wishes come true..

-- manjula

Wednesday, August 30, 2006

Video of the Day: K-Solo: "Your moms In My Business"

Over the years me and the mother's of women I've dated have gotten along like a penis and Ellen Degeneres, or Eminem and a decent album. I don't know what it is, I flash that smile and try to charm the granny panties off of those wenches, but it seems that they always see through the facade and try to dissuade their daughters from dating me by any means necessary. I once had a mother lie and say that she saw me out with another woman once, one lady tried to have her two sons beat me up, another had a cop harass me for like a month straight, and this one lady told her daughter that I called her a geriatric dime-store whore.(Ok, I did say that..) Anyway, whenever someones mother is giving me trouble I always think about this song.

Star Wars Vs. The Lord Of The Rings scene from Clerks 2

Tuesday, August 29, 2006

My favorite things to hit people with..

When I envisioned myself as being a father it was never in the mold of Cliff Huxtable, not to dis Cosby or anything, but my past is filled with so many "weed and whores" stories that it would be hard to act like I had the moral high ground when addressing my children.(Plus, I motherfucking hate sweaters.) I saw myself as the cool dad, you know, warning my kids against the evils of the world since their dear old dad not only danced with the devil at one point in his life, but occasionally was lucifer's most trusted confidant. Besides me possibly threatening my daughter's boyfriends with castration via a dull butter-knife, overall I see myself being considerably laid back, doing shit like introducing my kids to stoners that I have known since high school and their perpetual state of laziness after catching my son with a joint. I had all these parenting scenario's in my head, convincing myself that I would be the quintessential parental figure, all I needed now was for a woman to be kind enough to let me inject her with my demon seed. But a couple of incidents happened recently that put my future parenting skills in question to say the least.

The first incident happened when a friend of mine asked me to talk to their son about marijuana, basically trying to get me to dissuade the young man from ever smoking any more street horticulture. I was the last person to give anyone an anti-drug speech, so I Nancy Reagan'ed him on some "Just say No!" shit, pulled a page out of the playbook of the nuns at St. Gregory's on some "If drugs you chose, YOU LOSE!!" shit, I even contemplated breaking out a couple of eggs and making the both of us some delectable omelets.(I couldn't do the whole "This is your brain on drugs" rant, I would have giggled through it.) But then I decided to speak from the heart, level with the young brother, and tell him some of the things I went through to shed some light on some of the stupid things you do while high on dope. Well, it didn't work out as well as I had planned, since I accidentally glamorized running from the cops, having sex with 3 women at the same time, jumping out of a moving car, and stealing a cop car. I'm sure he sparked a blunt as soon as I left, based on the 30 minute weed endorsement I presented him.

Another example that I would be a bad parent of Brittany Spears proportions is when this young cat stopped my house when I was cutting the grass last week. He's a good kid, about 17, and occasionally I have talked to him about Hip Hop a few times. Well, he had told me a story about him getting into an altercation with a dude, hitting him with his skateboard, and then taking off. I know since I am 16 years his senior I should have warned him against violence, went into specific detail about all the friends that I have lost because of it, basically tried to be the voice of reason so this young man would see that violence definitely wasn't the answer. Nope, not me, after he talked about hitting a kid with a skateboard I started talking about my favorite things to hit people with. It looks like my black ass won't be winning any father of the year awards.

Bottles: Don't lecture me, I know that you can kill some hapless bastard if you hit them with a bottle, I know that. But I treat that danger the same way you would treat crossing the street, driving, or sucking on a neck bone, you could die those ways as well so fuck it. But seriously, the only times I suggest getting someones cranium intimately acquainted with a beer bottle is when you feel in immediate danger or if you want to get your point across. This time that three guys were about to jump me in a bar a few years back, a situation that had "loss" written all over it, I hit one of them with a bottle and tried to fight the other two with the broken remains that were in my hands. Or this one time that the ex-boyfriend of a girl I was dating confronted me at this concert, detailing the numerous ways that he would insert his foot in my rectum, so I smashed him in the head with a bottle to not only get my point across, but to also let him know that my asshole was an "exit only" orifice. But seriously, even if you aren't a fighter, hitting some jackass with a Budweiser container is the best way to get them to leave you alone. See, for one thing they can't believe that you just did that, also when most people see their own blood it scares the piss out of them.

The best example of how to pull off that maneuver was in the movie "Malcolm X", in Malcolm's hustling days, when he was in that bar and smashed that guy in the head with a bottle, screaming "Don't you ever say anything against my mother!!" I love that shit.

Whiffle ball bat: If you aren't a toy tester, or a pedophile masquerading as a baseball coach, I'm pretty sure that most people don't have a whiffle bat at their disposal. I know, it's weird, but let me explain. I was helping a couple of friends set up for a garage sale they were having last year, a weird concept really, asking people to find value in shit that you were going to throw away in the first place. Anyway, I was helping out while my friends went to the store when a couple of dudes tried to walk off with a television set that they were selling. When I attempted to stop them they started to jump me, which would be understandable in most situations, but these motherfucker were about to beat my ass over a small black and white T.V and shit. Because it was the closest thing handy I picked up a whiffle ball bat, got to my feet, and prepared to do whatever I could to avoid an ass-whipping. The two guys giggled as I tightly gripped this long blue thing looking like a Smurf stunt cock, as we were about to throw down. Let me tell you, that thing was pretty solid, based on how many times I repeatedly went upside the head of those two jackasses who wanted a 30 year old T.V in the worst way. Nothing tells you that you have violence issues than seeing blood on a toy that kids use to improve their hand eye coordination, but I thought to myself "I really have to get one of these things!!"

Bag of Soda's: Ever since I saw Sean Penn's character in the movie "Bad Boys" dispatch his would be dispatchers with a pillowcase full of canned soda's, I wanted to do that at some point in my life. But really, when would that opportunity ever present itself to you?? Also, I'm pretty sure that your attacker wouldn't listen to you if you said, "Wait a minute!!" as you pulled out a pillowcase, a shitload of quarters to buy soda's with, and then filled the bag up right in front of them. But lo and behold, I found my golden opportunity to Mame a couple of dirt-bags who had an agenda of hate against the man you know as Humanity F Critic. I was in college, at some unity function, where they had free food, soda's, and college ass as far as the eye could see. Well, there were a few gentlemen there that didn't like the fact that I had not only beat up their friend recently, but I embarrassed him by snatching off his chain in front of a few onlookers. That's when I grabbed a trash bag, put some of those free "unity sodas" in said bag, and began to swing away like Reggie "Mr October" Jackson in the World Series. I was doing my thing, that was until the bag broke and I got beaten like a bass drum to the distant sounds of "Rumpshaker". I'm not condoning that any of you ever do this, but I have two pieces of advice when it comes to hitting some ass-hat with a bag full of soda's. 1. Use a pillowcase, trust me. 2. Make sure you don't miss, because if you do and your momentum swings you around you might catch a bad one.

Chairs: I know that hitting people with chairs is very WWF, but it has been something that I always have believed in like my mother, Hip Hop, or angrily masturbating in the dark on those lonely winter nights. Remember, hitting someone with a chair is like the seasoning on the dish of ass-whipping, it's the cab fare you give a broad after you make love to her for a whopping 5 minutes, it's the "money shot" in a porn flick. I don't know of anyone who is going to let you walk over, grab a chair, then proceed to repeatedly hit them with it. A chair is needed after you have pretty much tattooed your opponent with a plethora of jabs, combinations, throat-chops, whatever. Hitting someone with a chair is pretty savage, but the collective "Of Shit!!" you hear from onlookers as you make the trip back to your enemy with said chair in hand is pretty cool if I may say so myself. The funny thing is that people who get hit with chairs act like the wrestlers do on T.V, they give you an ugly grimace, and they arch their back while holding it in the most dramtic fashion.

I can't believe that I'm about to say this.. I kind of like Christina Aguilera's album: My Review..

Since I'm one of the biggest fan's of DJ Premiere imaginable, when I heard that he was doing significant work on the next Christina Aguilera album to say that I was a bit curious would have been a gross understatement. I mean, I've never been a fan of Ms. Aguilera or anything, but Premo is Premo, and anyone who can't acknowledge that Christina is a good singer is either hearing impaired or a loyal Brittany Spears fan. So when I decided to express my curiosity to my friends, expecting them to agree wholeheartedly because of our shared love of DJ Premiere's producing wizardry, the reactions that I received were both dismissive and angry. They acted as if I had just taken a steaming shit right in their living room or something, yeah they would give verbal praise to Premo, but their diatribes of hate would usually end with "I don't give a shit, fuck Christina Aguilera!!" It left me puzzled because I can understand people not being a fan, but I had no idea that the chick who once had to brush her tongue for a week based on her kissing Madonna could evoke so much anger. If Michael Jordan was playing in an exhibition game against 5 obese mentally retarded teens I'd still want to see it because that's still Michael fucking Jordan!! If Robert De Niro had a recurring role on Sesame Street where he dressed up like a Gorilla while teaching kids the alphabet, I'd still want to see it because it's De Niro for Christs sake!! If there was a bootleg tape floating around of Jennifer Lopez, during her "In Living Color" days, in the midst of a lesbian lick-fest with her and the other Fly-Girls, I'd want to see that because, well, I'm a pervert. I'm not trying to demean Christina here, but she would be working with a man who is arguably the best Hip Hop producer ever, no one shared my curiosity??

Because it is a double album and I knew that Linda Perry produced disc 2, I listened to that one first because I wanted to save the heavily Premo produced one for last. After hearing that second disc, 8 tracks of throwback cabaret-style tunes that seemed that they would be better suited for a musical or some shit, my prospects for disc one weren't very good. I mean, she sings her ass off on disc 2, but those songs weren't particularly my cup of tea, so on to disc 1.

Listen, I know I'm going to catch more shit for this than a colostomy bag, but after hearing disc 1 for the first time I came to the conclusion that this is one of the best R&B albums this year.(Rubbing eyes, shaking my head) I know, I know, I'm saying this about Christina Aguilera of all people, but she came through with a soulful piece of art that never seemed to openly pander for radio acceptance. Let me put it a couple of ways, not only does this CD feel like they let Premiere executive produce the whole fucking thing, it sounds like he was the Jedi master who had to train his padawan by locking her ass in his basement for a couple of months as they listened to soul records continuously. People will bash me for glowingly praising Aguilera because it will probably make them seem cooler doing so, and they have the ability talk shit from the safety of their porn riddled computer, but I'm just telling it like it is. From the classic Premo intro that we all know him for, the soulfully produced Kwame(yes, polka-dots Kwame) track "Understand" where Betty Harris' voice is sampled, Mark Ronson does his thing on the track "Slow Down Baby", the song "Makes me Wanna Pray" takes a heathen like me back to church, "Here to Stay" is Christina's middle finger to the critics, and the song "Without You" has to either be her expressing her love for her husband or some dude she's blowing on the side that only she knows about. Premo shows you why he is the best producer ever on songs like "Back in the Day" where Christina gives love to the musical legends of the past, and "Still Dirrty", a premiere horn-fest where Aguilera owns her sexuality so to speak. Lastly, the outro where Christina gives her fans love over a Premo track with her fans' voices spliced throughout the song masterfully is a brilliance that Gangstarr fans have been used to since "Step in the Arena".

So yeah, I dug this album and that's right, I DID say that it is one of the best R&B albums of the year. But then again, that is akin to praising a guy with sight just because he won a game of darts against a blind guy. The state of R&B is possibly in the same shambles that Hip Hop is in, with a vast array of soulless tunes that offend the sensibilities of anyone who grew up listening to their parents' vinyl.

Suffice it to say this album has gotten a plethora of bad reviews, something that doesn't shock me in the least. But when people say that she is "overly self indulgent", that this album being "all about her" and her being a "narcissist", I don't find those to be as legitimate critiques. I mean, of course she would talk about herself on the album, who else is she fucking supposed to be talking about. That's like coming on this blog and your main complaint being, "HumanityCritic, this blog is all about you!!!" Of course this blog is about me you poster child for abortions you!!

Video of the Day: LL Cool J: "I'm Bad"

You know what, even though I haven't purchased an LL album in more than a decade, I respect the dude to completely honest. Even though I'm no fan of the stuff that he does now artistically, I can't ignore his lengthy history behind the coveted microphone apparatus. He's still a legend, and the mere fact that he freestyled at a presidential inauguration gives him extra points in my book.

Today's choice is "I'm bad", a video that I loved as a kid and a video that I find utterly hilarious now. I mean, the video starts off will LL and his girlfriend handing out Anti-Drug leaflets?? Did anybody ever buy that motherfucker being a community activist? Also, what's up with that gay ass police dispatcher?: "Be on the lookout for a tall lightskin brother with dimples!! Not to mention the corny warehouse that LL is performing in, the video girls of the day that seemed to have been plucked off the street based on how off beat they were, but then again LL's "shark-fin" move is something that I still do at party's so I can't front but so much.

Classic Kevin Smith Dialogue: "The Flying Car"

Friday, August 25, 2006

HumanityCritic, the superhero???

Looking back on the two years that I have been blogging, I really don't have that much to complain about to be totally honest. Of course there are some issues that you will face as a blogger, like people with the collective I.Q's of room temperature who couldn't understand satire and sarcasm if it ass raped them, and want to label you misogynistic or that you somehow hate black women based on one post that they read. Also there are other bloggers who passive aggressively hate on your blog, talk that random slick shit out of the side of their collective mouths about you not deserving certain accolades, the whole time knowing that you could virtually write circles around that diseased road-kill that they call a blog. But there has been some great opportunities that have presented themselves based on the daily drivel that I write, and for that I'm blessed. Like being asked to write articles, pen songs for a few artists, add some content to scripts, I even helped a young woman write her High School Valedictorian speech. But the biggest honor thus far, because that I'm a geek who could be found either watching the "Smurfs" wondering what color my love child with Smurfette would be or angrily masturbating to "Vanity 6" posters, is being asked to pen a comic book.

Based on the fact that a couple of local artists, Jeff and Matt, are fans of my blog they asked me if I could come up with a comic book idea that they would gladly illustrate. Even though I was only a marginal comic book fan growing up, the prospect of coming up with my own superhero, his back story, and the plethora of superpowers that he possessed couldn't have excited me more.(Ok, a dream date with Janeane Garofalo is pretty exciting) But as soon as the creative process started rolling I found myself regurgitation ideas that we have seen in superhero's before, coming up with something new was quite the painstaking endeavor. Frustrated because every single idea that I came up with was as bad as getting a blow job from a chick with turrets, I decided to come up with a sort of slacker superhero. That man, you guessed it, is HumanityCritic.. I haven't pitched this idea to Jeff and Matt yet, but then again since they read this horseshit of a blog anyway I guess they are seeing it like the rest of you..

I'd be an outcast in the superhero community because I'm lazy: I've read enough comic books in my day to know that being a superhero is as thankless a job as the guy who mops up jizz at a porno theater. Risking your life on a regular basis, saving the world from it's impending doom, rescuing someones bratty little bastard, breaking up some organized crime ring, bringing murders to justice, for what??? Sure some people are going to look at you as a hero, but mostly people are going to see you as that freak of nature that can levitate and miraculously bend things with your cock, and the rewards don't seem to match the duty performed. Where is all the barely legal ass?? Where are the shit-loads of cash at my disposal? Despite attempts by other superheros to recruit me to their various organizations focused on "saving the world", I'd always reject their offer by saying "That wold cut into my weed and whore time. No thanks!" Every time Superman would come by my crib with that holier-than-thou rant saying, "HumanityCritic, with your abilities you can help clean up this world, bring villainous individuals to justice, and make sure the world is safe for the generations after you!!" I'd probably responds, "But dude, what's in it for me???"

I'd fight crimes only when it benefits me: Of course there would be times that I get off my sex stained couch and fight crimes, but only when it would benefit me somehow. Like that time I stopped that large shipment of drugs from reaching the United States that was worth 10 million dollars, thus putting me on the cover of Time and Tigerbeat as the "Superhero to Watch". Little did they know by my only motivation was to pinch about 10 pounds of weed from that drug stash for my own personal use. When I assist cops it's only to get out of parking tickets and to get assault charges expunged from my record, whenever I save a damsel in distress it's only to fuck said damsel at a later date. I'd get the paparazzi off of the back of some young starlet, as long as she gave me a mercy fuck as gratitude. You know, shit like that.

I'd use my powers to make petty cash:
I'm pretty sure that whoring yourself is against some sort of superhero code, but because I wouldn't be on any type of crime fighting payroll anyway I would do whatever I could do to make ends meet. Enter strong man contests where I would dispatch mere mortals by decapitation, maiming, or your garden variety breaking of bones. I would sit on a busy street corner downtown with a hat on the ground for donations, doing my best David Blaine impressions as I levitate and move various objects with my mind. Arm wrestling competitions, long drive golf competitions, local marathons, anything that can help a brother maintain a lifestyle that I'm accustomed to. You know, purchasing triple penetration filth, independent film, and of course booze.

I wouldn't have a uniform:
Batman has a uniform so people can't tell that it's Bruce Wayne, Superman removes his glasses and has his own crime-fighting uniform so people don't know it's Clark Kent, I too had a disguise but it was pretty unflattering. For one thing I'm a chubby motherfucker and tight fabrics tends to accentuate my gut just a bit, so hearing giggles on those few occasions that I decided to save someone was quite embarrassing.(Children laugh at me, women shake their head, and hearing "What is that bastard going to save, a doughnut shop??") Plus I have extremely long dreadlocks, no matter what outfit I wore people would know it was me.(How many chunky, long dread-locked dudes could there be???) My outfit is shell-toe Adidas, baggy jeans, and a Public Enemy T-Shirt..

I'd kiss and tell: I'm sure that people who have superpowers hang out together in underground clubs and watering holes, where they can mingle and let their hair down so to speak. Being that I'm a whore naturally, nothing would excite me more than the opportunity to run through as many female superheros as possible. I'd tell my boys how I folded Wonder-woman up like Origami in the backseat of her invisible jet, even hogtying her up with her magical lasso as I pounded her and screamed "Your jet is invisible, but people can still see us fucking!!" I would talk shit to Zan, one of The Wonder Twins, how I taxed his sister Jayna's ass like the government, all the time making rude comments like "Wonder-twin powers, activate!! Form of, super-slut!!!!" I'd be an insufferable prick, so yeah, the comic book me would mirror my real life.

Bad Hip Hop would be my kryptonite:
People think I'm lying when I say this, but hearing bad Hip Hop actually stops me in my tracks. If I'm at a party, a club, an intimate social gathering consisting of a handful of my friends, if something comes on that disagrees with my ears I cringe and it momentarily cripples me. My friends think it's an overreaction on my part, but it is the same phenomena like yawning when someone else yawns, it's that unexplainable. If I was a superhero, the only thing that could stop me in my tracks would be my nemesis playing sub-par Hip Hop in my direction. I can see it now, me trying to save a train full of people from their impending doom, the bad guy would pull out a radio and blast Lil Wayne to drain my strength. I could even see myself catching a missile mid-flight, saving an airplane full of people, all the bad guy would have to do to thwart my superhero efforts would be to simply play some Young Jeezy at ear shattering decibels.

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Video of the Day: Terminator X(w/Chuck D): "Buck-Whylin"

This song has more meanings to me than the word "sex" had to that pimp of a president that we had, Bill Clinton. Even though this song was released on Terminator X's solo effort, this is by far one of the most underrated Public Enemy songs ever in my humble opinion. This Bomb Squad produced beat just makes you want to put random fuckers in a head lock, and Chuck D's preacher-like rap delivery that could convert most devil worshipers into believing the Hip Hop gospel. But this song above nothing else, reminds me of how scared I was in the spring of 1991. See, I waes a happy go lucky senior at Kempsville High School, with nothing but the 100 meter dash and girls asses on my mind when Desert Storm broke out. I didn't know what was going to happen, if they would reinstate the draft and make motherfuckers fight in that war or not, all I knew was that I was scared shit-less. Anyway, since this song was in my daily rotation at the time, when Sistah Soulah screamed out that cryptic "WE ARE AT WAR!!", it was probably the biggest reason why I never joined the military.(Respect to everyone who served this country honorably, I was just a coward at the time.)

Bruce Leroy is still kicking ass...well, kinda..

Myspace is not only great for listening to crappy bands, finding women you fucked a decade ago, or even trolling for dirty Internet ass in your local area. It is also good to see what people who used to be stars are up to, whether it is being them struggling as an actor or their latest career in the parking lot attendant business. See, I was on youtube and found this short clip from that dude Taimak, you know, "Bruce" Leroy from "The Last Dragon". Great movie, I was a fan, so I figured that I would go and see if this dude had a myspace page. Because I'm a prick, as I searched online for it I said shit to myself like "I bet his one hit wonder ass probably has his myspace page entitled "Bruce Leroy", miserable fuck!!", giggling to myself like a school girl. Well, wouldn't you have known it, his myspace page is actually entitled "The Last Dragon", a brother wasn't that far off. It got even funnier when I saw that one of his top eight is Ernie Reyes,Jr who was also in the flick, I was searching to see if he had "Sho Nuff" as one of his friends but I didn't feel like sifting through his lengthy friends list. I know that I'm kind of shitting on the guy, but I'm sure he gets more ass than a toilet seat and probably has a bank account that triples mine, I'm just a chubby fucker who has a blog. What do I know??

Wednesday, August 23, 2006

Let me hurry and beat up the guy who said that "Patience is a Virtue".

People would assume that a therapist deleting me from her list of clients and calling me a "fucking nut-job" would dissuade me from my journey of mental clarity in this porn filled, masturbatory existence that some would call a life. But to be completely honest, I have seen a great deal of growth over the past year, emotionally not phallicly(unfortunately). A maturity that I didn't seem to be in the same area code of when I was sitting on some assholes couch admitting some of my most innermost feelings like wanting to have sex with women in pools of jello, or my weird desire to fuck one of "The Golden Girls" in a very risque orifice. My temper is getting better, when a guy did something that would have gotten his ass mauled no less than a year ago, cooler heads prevailed and I didn't find the need to physically assault the gentlemen.(Even though, I told him if he ever did that again that I would, and I quote, "Gut him like a fish"). My relationship with my brother is getting better, even though I thought he was the evil one for all these years, I finally realized that I was stuck in a High School play about Sex Ed. and I was the actually one playing the "dick" role. I don't use women's body's like a sexual play-land that I disregard like a parking ticket immediately after ejaculation any more, basically because I'm scared of sticking my dick in something as diseased as that outbreak monkey so I end up drunk dialing them and whispering sweet deviant nothings in their ear past 3 A.M instead. So yeah, there is definite improvement, but one area that I can't seem to make a solitary dent in is my impatience. It's pretty bad, here are a few examples.

Standing in Line: I have said this for years, but if I ever had a phat lottery check in my hand worth hundred of millions and there was a fucking line at the bank, my black ass would come back the next day. That's how much I hate lines. But I'm not a total douche-bag, if I find myself in an extremely long line I won't harass other customers or curse out the staff, even though you might hear an occasional sigh akin to a 5 year old after being told that he isn't going to get a particular toy he wants. But, if there is a customer or employee who is adding to the extremely long wait, THAT is when I get vocal. Like the other night at "Wendy's", I was already waiting a few minutes when I noticed an old man arguing with the cashier because she had charged him less than what he is normally charged. Less! That's when I went up to the older gentleman and said, "Gramps, if you don't take your discount and keep it moving, I swear to fucking god I'm going to throw you in the god-damned Frosty mix!!!"

Or the time I was waiting more than 10 minutes in the grocery-store, listening to this gem of a conversation:[ Cashier: Girl, what are you going to do?? Woman: I don't know, Ray-Ray hasn't called me since we hooked up this past weekend.. I hope he's OK?? Cashier: Yeah, something must have happened because he's been chasing you for months..] That's when I told the woman, "Ray-Ray isn't calling you because he either has a girlfriend, or after "hooking up" with you realized that your crotch smells like road-kill!!(turning to the cashier) Can you put this Jerry Springer rehearsal on pause so I can pay for my Gatorade?" Or the time I was at a department store buying some shell-toes when I was behind a woman in her 20's and her 60 year old boyfriend. They were going on and on about their wedding day, the preparations, things like that, and that's when I lost it. I said, dropping to my knees looking in the sky, "Can a brother just buy a pair of fucking sneakers lord??(standing up, looking at the couple) Can you two hurry this shit up??(looking at the older gentleman) Y'all are getting married huh? Where are you registered, a fucking funeral home??"

Sex: To say that I'm an insensitive lover is an understatement akin to saying that R. Kelly likes younger women, or that Mary J Blige is sometimes depressing as fuck. I'm getting better though, I now am more receptive when a woman says "Get your hand off of the back of my head jackass!", and other things that makes someone better in the bedroom. But again, my impatience rears it's ugly head in this department as well, and women don't seem to appreciate it in the least. Like if a woman is trying to be sexy and sensual, slowly taking off her clothes to get me "in the mood", I'll say "Come the fuck on toots, I have A.D.D and at the pace your going I'll just say 'fuck it' and start jerking off." Or when a woman is about to perform a certain act on you, but she proceeds it with a whole bunch of teasing nibbles and nonsense like that, I'll usually say: "Once you are in a Ferrari, you don't just don't rev the engine endlessly, take that motherfucker for a spin already!!!"(Even though a more accurate analogy for my genitalia would be to call it a VW Bug with acceleration problems, but that's a semantics argument)

My Conversation Skills(or lackthereof): Even though I am one for embracing your inner-asshole, based on the amount of asinine conversations I sit through without interrupting the person talking, I can be a pretty nice guy. I usually let people have their say and I'm a pretty good listener, but if you tell me that you like some bullshit rapper or if you go on and on for extremely too long, I immediately acquire that thousand mile stare when you are talking. It was a trick I learned as a kid, trying to endure those boring ass lectures from my father, lectures where he would usually break down the 1001 ways that I wasn't shit. If you say that you are a Young Jeezy fan or thought that "Soul Plane" was a theatrical masterpiece, I will appear to be listening to you but all I hear is the voice of Charlie Brown's teacher.(Whah-Whah-Whah) If you talk my fucking ear off you get that same 1000 yard stare, I just hope that people don't pick up on it and quiz me afterwards.

Physical altercations: Looking back on my life, I feel bad when I realize that 60% of the fights that I've been in could have been avoided if I had just talked things over. But because I have less patience than a surgeon with Parkinson's, I never gave peace a chance and proceeded to take things in my own hands.(pun intended) Matter of fact, I have been so impatient that I have the long and storied history of punching people in the face mid-sentence. I couldn't tell you how many times these scenarios have happened:[ Random Man: Listen, if you don't get out of my..*Bam"* Garden Variety Douche-bag: That's my girlfriend!! Touch her ass again.."*Wham* Black Republican: Call Condi a crack-whore one more time and I'll..*Throat-Chop* Yeah I know, violence is never the answer.. But trust me, punching someone before they can get their pre-fight, tough guy diatribe out, lets them know that you mean business.

I throw CD's for distance: It is no secret that I am the biggest music snob ever, living by the words uttered in the movie "High Fidelity" where John Cusack's character says, "It's not what you're like, it's WHAT you like!" Since I believe that quote the way that millions of people believe their holy bible, my actions when it comes to sub-par music is pretty aggressive to say the least. If I am in my car with a newly purchased CD or some sample CD that some local artist passed to me at a party once, if I play it and it's bullshit I will throw it out of my car with Dan Marino-like accuracy. I know it is a natural reaction, like your leg moving after the doctor hits your knee with that hammer thing, because I threw a CD out of my car as the artist in question sat in my passenger seat waiting for approval. I have the same impatience at concerts as well, if an opening act blows I'll let them know it, I'll usually scream out an exaggerated"You guys suck!!!!" Or if one of my favorite groups decides that they want to play a whole bunch of unrecognizable new material, I will scream out "Stop playing new shit, play the hits you motherfuckers!!" I know, I have to work on that.

Video of the Day: Biz Markie - Biz Is Goin' Off

This video is corny and was probably shot on a shoestring budget, but who cares, this is what Hip Hop is all about. A classic song that would even make someone with whiplash nod their head back and forth, I remember as a kid how I used to play this video until the fucking videotape wore out. Plus, you know how defenders of current Hip Hop try to turn your criticisms around on you and assume that you hate anything that "isn't super lyrical". Well, acts like Biz Markie and Doug E Fresh weren't particularly lyrical masterminds, but they were dope in their own right and they epitomized Hip Hop. Take that, you fucking "Dem Franchize Boyz" fans!!

Hey HumanityCritic, what in the fuck are you doing with this in your ipod? Squeeze: "Tempted"

This is going to sound cheesy but this song, for some reason, was a source of comfort for me about 6 years ago. Picture this, late sping 2001, me laying in a Orlando hotel room many miles from my hometown of Virginia Beach as this song plays. See, I had just been dropped like a bad habit by a woman I had been with for 5 years, so since I was hurt, reeling, and in a desperate need to save me from myself, I skipped town and found myself somewhere in Florida. Each morning during my 5 day visit there, before I traveled through the city trolling for emotional relief and sexual release, I would play this song before I left my hotel room..I don't know, it was just soothing, plus it seemed fitting that the words "tempted by the fruit of another" were in the song based on me being on the business end of a break-up.

One-Handed 3x3x3 Rubik's Cube solve (20.09 seconds solve)

I have special skills, like my ability to undo a bra instantly with one hand, the various poker-chip tricks that I have when I'm playing cards, or the double-kick flip Ollie's that I can pull off one out of every three tries. But this kid is impressive, as geeks go, to the point that he could pull off the dork Trifecta if he could tell you the gaffer on each of the "Star Wars" movies and if he had a firm grip on that "Star Trek" Klingon language.

Tuesday, August 22, 2006

If marriage is like that, no fucking thanks.

When my best friend got married, I wasn't delusional when it came to how our relationship would change in drastic ways. I knew that those all night drinking binges were all but a distant memory, I knew that I would have to be less confrontational whenever I'm around him because he'd now have a wife to go home to, and I'm pretty sure his new wife wouldn't be cool with me and him tag teaming some stripper named "peaches" in some dark alley somewhere as I scream at her "Why are you yawning?? Stop fucking yawning!!". Hell, I even liked his soon to be wife so much that I didn't throw hookers his way in a feeble attempt to dissuade him from tying the knot. So as I was nursing a serious hangover from the bachelor party the night before and wreaked of cheap scotch and stripper sweat, all the while trying to pluck glitter off of my hands, I saw my best friend of 20 years get married. It didn't dawn on me as I sat there, possibly because I was nervously trying to recount the events of the previous night, hoping that I didn't enter one of those unsavory harlots without the proper riot gear on, but I knew that for our friendship to last that we would have to pretend that were 12 years old again.

Of course I'm not talking about actually acting like a pre-teen, you know, watching cartoons, riding skateboards, or masturbating like a madman to my favorite Appolonia poster..(wait, I still do ALL of those things.) But because my friend was now married, his wife would sort of play the parent role when I came over, watching him nervously ask if it was alright to "come out and play" so to speak. But I just figured that that came with the territory, and to be honest I was happy for him, also jealous to be quite honest. I mean, he would be spending the rest of his life with his soul-mate in marital bliss while I try to figure out which condom color would accentuate a body part that I affectionately call "The stubby chubby". While him and his wife save for their kids college tutition, I'd be popping Viagra like tic-tacs hoping that the young woman that I'm dating loves me for me or for the fact that I pay her car note. Years from now when his kids come home from college to spend Christmas with their old man, I envisioned myself watching "A Christmas Story" for the millionth time, along with an empty bottle of Jack Daniels and a shotgun riding shotgun.

Ok, Ok, I was feeling sorry for myself, but I don't think I'm alone in openly hoping that my twilight years aren't spent alone with a house-full of fucking cats. So yeah, I wanted to get married in the worst way when my friend got hitched, that was until the veil was pulled back and I saw all the shit that he has to go through. I mean, I know that not all marriages are like his, but observing his marital situation made a house full of cats seem like a quite promising endeavor. I still want to get married, but not if it's anything like my friends marriage. Here are a few examples..

He had to ask her if he could play catch once: I'm not shitting you, I went over there a few months ago to throw the old pigskin around(toss around a football, not Condi Rice). When I came to the door to ask him what was up he looked at me, cringed, and then asked his wife "Honey, is it ok for me to play catch with HumanityCritic??" That's when I thought I was using the voice in my head but actually realized that I was using my actual voice when I said, "What the fuck!!?? We will be about 20 feet away and you live next to a couple of lesbians, the chances of you getting ass are slim to none. Even though in the right light you do resemble Meshell Ndegeocello!!" His wife gave me one of those "Don't fuck this up for me, I have him trained!!" looks. Fuck, I suddenly realized that my boy was now brainwashed.

When we go out he gets a serious guilt trip: Those few times that my boy's taskmaster is kind enough to let him out to mingle with the common-folk, she gives him serious guilt trips about it. I mean, I would understand being on the business end of a guilt trip if my friend said "Honey, HumanityCritic and I are going to a strip club where the women go "beyond the call of duty" if you give them an extra 20!!", I'd understand her hesitation in that case. But trips to fucking Best Buy, Lowe's, and shit like that invoke questions like "How long are you going to be?? You're leaving me here all alone??" It got so bad that one time I said, "Excuse me, I'm going outside to throw up now!!" and proceeded to lose my lunch all over his front sidewalk. When he came out and said, "Does me being "whipped" actually make you physically ill?" I responded, "No, I had to throw up anyway because I drank too much last night, I was just trying to get my point across!!"

He has to check in, a lot: Listen, I understand a man calling his woman if he is going to come home later than expected or even telling her of his whereabouts, all that is understood. But this jackass, on any given night that we are out, calls his wife at least 25 times and proceeds to give her a Madden-like play-by-play rundown of what is happening. For example, "Honey, me and Critic are at the pool hall!!", "Baby, I just ordered some chicken fingers and fries", "Sweetie, HumanityCritic just punched a guy in the throat for no reason at all", Sugar, HumanityCritic just beat me in a game of pool!" Jesus fucking Christ man, he might as well have one of those baby monitors so she can keep up with him continuously.

I get the feeling that his wife hates me: As much as she smiles in my face and acts like she's cool with me, I get that sinking feeling that she hates me like Lou Diamond Phillips hates Melissa Etheridge records, or how Reagan felt about Jodi Foster movies before he died. I don't know what it is, I haven't really done anything to her personally. Well, that is if you don't count the drunken story I told at his wedding about the STD he once caught, the fact that I kept calling her the name of his ex-girlfriend, or the brief relationship I had with her friend where I broke up with her in an email simply saying, "It's been real, See ya!!!" But those aren't legitimate reasons to hate a guy, are they??

She talks to him like a child:
Despite my lackluster history when it comes to dating, the one quality that I've always been proud of is the fact that I never argue in front of my friends or her friends. If I have a disagreement I would take her to the side and discuss it, or wait until all of our guests left and hit her with a "You must have lost your fucking mind!!!!" But my friend's wife doesn't subscribe to that sense of decorum, cursing and berating my old friend like he is an adolescent who happened to break a window or some other childhood indiscretion like that. Yeah I know, it's my friends fault for letting himself get completely run the fuck over, but after I witnessed her yelling and pointing at him like he was an ill behaved puppy, I know that I want to hold on to my testicles when I'm married. I mean, I've been through that before, being cursed the fuck out in front of a woman's friends.. Let me tell you, an extremely loud "Who in the fuck do you think you're talking to!!!" around some of her closest friends and family will kill that shit quick-fast.

He always says "Inmates in Jail get more ass than I do!!": He says this a lot, but I don't particularly follow it because if you are an inmate that isn't gender specific of where your penis goes, and you're favorite pastime is making new inmates hold your pocket as a sign of ownership, then you do get plenty of ass. Sloppy metaphors aside, I always thought marriage to be great in the sense that you would have ass at your leisure. No more paying chicks to sleep with you, no more lying to women saying "I promise, I'll call you!!" after a one-night stand, no more going to the clinic to make sure you are disease free as the doctor and nurses hold back giggles based on you being hung like a newborn. But apparently, based on what he tells me, I get a more steady stream of ass than he does..(Which is scary, because I haven't had a steady stream since the first season of Chappelle)

Be sure to vote for me in the following categories:
Best Humor Blog
Best Original Content
Best Personal Blog
Best Writing in a Blog
Blog of the Year

Video of the Day: Slick Rick: "A Children's Story"

The other day, as I trolled the Internet for the worst pornographic filth that I could stroke to, I ran across one of those Hip Hop writers who claims that Hip Hop "isn't dead". I gave his piece a chance, hoping to be enlightened, but what I came across was a Hip Hop scribe in the pocket of corporate radio based on his claims that there were "many storytellers nowadays that need to be heard". Really, where motherfucker??? See, Slick Rick was a real story-teller, the way he painted an elaborate pictures, all the way dazzling you with his word-play and delivery. Anyway, here is "A Children's Story".

B-boy Junior (Modified)

Maybe I'm not qualified enough to comment on this video based on the single hand-stand move and a sloppy flares in my chubby B-Boying arsenal, but this cat is dope to me. What do you think???

Thursday, August 17, 2006


I want to thank all of you who nominated me for 5 Blackweblogawards this year, I see that chubby black pre-ejaculators really are in this year!!!! Listen, I could be ultra humble and say that the people running against me are worthy of winning and deserve the proper consideration, but that's not me, fuck that, I'm a prick and want clean up like "The Jetson's" robot maid and shit. I could also tell you that these are only Internet awards and me winning wouldn't particularly improve my station in life, but that's bullshit, I'm sure there is some uber dork out there that would drop her princess Leia undergarments by me simply saying "Hey baby, I'm a 2 time blackweblog award winner!! Do you want to screw on my backseat or in your Millennium Falcon replica bed??" I could also be hypocritical and go on and on about how I'm too proud to pander for votes despite the fucking Paypal donation link plastered on the side of the page, but I'm a publicity whore, I'd email people picture's of my toddler-sized penis if it would guarantee me a win. Anyway, go here and vote for me in the following categories that I'm nominated for.. Thank you again, make a chronic masturbaters wildest dreams come true!!!

Best Humor Blog:
Best Original Content: (HumanityCritic tells his grankids a very scary story)
Best Personal Blog:
Best Writing in a Blog:
Blog of the Year:

Remember my Campaign Slogan: Three words for a brighter Future.."Humanity Fucking Critic!"

Fuck it, I don't want to be black anymore!!!

What?? Did you think that the title of this post was just a tool to get your attention, like a girl with big tits who you find yourself talking to for hours even though her scope of conversation ranges from her love for Mo'Nique and how she got pregnant at a Lil Wayne concert once, those dirty pillows keeping you salivating like Pavlov's dog as you endure dialogue worse than a Tyler Perry movie. No I mean it, I don't want to be black anymore, so if I have to hand in a racial badge, fill out paperwork, hold a press conference, buy a Pat Boone record, have a shrine to Clarence Thomas, whatever I can do to make the process of not being black anymore complete I'll do it. Let me clarify before all the women who find chubby black pre-ejaculators sexy suddenly decide that I'm not fuckable anymore, I don't want to be black anymore based on what people feel "being black" is nowadays, that's all. I mean, what is being black anyways? Listen, maybe I'm just an unmarried 32 year old dude with simple tastes in life like eating Mac and cheese off of a slipper's ass-crack and fucking women to Public Enemy records as SHE recites Chuck D's rhymes, but I thought being black was simply knowing your history, being proud who you are, and conducting yourself in a civilized manner. But like that heroin addicts who inject themselves with that final needle that will take their life, I was suddenly hit with a bitter dose of reality, that is when I saw a few girls I knew in High School recently.

It was last week and I'm having some caffeinated beverage in this trendy coffee-shop by my house, a morning hangout for wanna-be poets, young professionals, and degenerates like me simply nursing hangovers with stripper glitter still on my person. A couple of tables over I see these two gorgeous sisters looking and me, we exchange a few smiles, I'm figuring out the mathematical possibility of me penetrating the both of them, this back and forth game of visual ping-pong lasted for a few minutes. Even though I have as much game as the XFL(defunct football league) I mustered up enough courage, walked over to the two ladies, introduced myself, and they invited me to sit down. I felt like Donny Brasco, infiltrating their inner sanctum, gaining their trust, just to bring their whole operation down at a later date.(or bring their head down, mouth hug style..) I felt like Luke Skywalker, my pimp game was the "Rebel Fighter", and later I would get the opportunity to shoot a couple of torpedoes down the shaft of their "Death Star".(Just a metaphor for my ability to pre-ejaculate in their presence later)

But all my plans of seeing a couple of black chicks naked was thwarted simply by one of them saying, "Hey, you are HumanityCritic. We went to High School together!!" Ok, even I was a uber dork in High School I was always an individual so I had nothing to be ashamed of, so for the next few minutes me and the two lovely ladies waxed poetic about our time at Kempsville High School. I was actually enjoying myself, thoughts of whipping out my penis were becoming a possibility again, until the other woman says "Yeah, you thought you were white!!" Taken aback, the most articulate thing that I could come up with was "Huh.. what??" She proceeded, "Yeah, you rode a skateboard, had white friends..and..and..", the other one chimed in "You have always talked proper as fuck!!!", both of them giggling like I was the butt of a running joke they had going on since 1991. Suddenly I'm not HumanityCritic anymore, I'm James, that 16 year old kid with the bald fade that took extremely too much shit from some of the other black kids for riding a skateboard and not being "black enough" because of it, even though they couldn't tell you a black history fact if you held a nuclear weapon to their collective heads.

As I sipped my overpriced brewed beverage, trying mentally cleanse myself of the ignorance that I was just privy to, I said: "What is being black to you two bitches? Broken English, some exaggerated walk, being able to do that dreaded chicken soup dance?? That's not being black!! Let me ask you, how many kids to you too ladies have?? Woman 1:Five Woman 2:Six I continued, "Ok, treating your vagina like a clown-car, is that "being black"?? No. Your colloquialism, the way in which you speak, does that make you black?? I mean, Arthur Ashe might have spoken "white" to you, but he was a million times "more blacker" than most of the substandard Hip Hop artists that you listen to based on his activism." That's when one of them asked me, "Ok HumanityCritic, what are you into now??" as if to imply that there was a possibly that I had changed from that "whiteboy" that they once knew in the early 90's. I said, "Ok, even though you two broads have a warped sense of what being black is, let me hip you to some of the things that I'm into. I'm doing this to enlighten the both of you, and since I haven't had a decent piece of ass since the first Clinton Administration I still want to, simply, fuck.."

I ride a Skateboard: That's right ladies and gentleman, your resident throat-chopper has ridden a skateboard off and on since 1985 to be exact. Sure back then I didn't get as many awkward looks, me having a bald fade at the time, aggressively pushing myself down sidewalks en route to the nearest skateboard ramp. But, as a chubby 32 year old black man sporting dreadlocks and an agenda of hate to boot, I get stares of amazement as I front-side grind someones curb or rail-slide down the handrail of a local business with total disregard to public property. Skateboarding is like masturbation to me, I do it because it feels good and I'm good at it god-dammit!! If pulling off kick-flip ollie's, extremely long nose wheelies, Christ-airs off a half pipe, or smith grinds makes me any less black then so be it. Not for nothing, but in a weird way hearing teenage boys at the local skate park say, "Wow, you are awesome..and you're my dads age!!" makes up for anything a misinformed black person with a shitty perception of what being black is can ever say to me.

I dig Independent film: As much as I dig blockbuster flicks as much as the next blue-blooded American fuck, I have a certain affection for films done on an extremely limited budget. No, I'm not talking about the time I tried to market my 2 minute porno films to the public, you remember, the ones entitled "HumanityCritic's Cliff-notes of fucking"?(Those didn't sell too well, probably because it had to do with me ejaculating before my sexual partner took her clothes off..) But seriously, I spend a great deal of my time either watching flicks at my nearest independent theater or I am having conversations of geek-like proportions, concerning directors, the lighting of sets, and other nerdy stuff with the cashier of an independent video store that I go to at least 4 times a week. Come on, what other brother can openly talk to you about "Ghost World", "Happy Endings", "Buffalo '66", or can openly admit to you how romantic they thought "Before Sunrise" was. If that makes me less black, then so be it, and fuck you..

I'm in a rock band: Even though we don't play out nearly as much as we once did, I am the lead singer of a local rock band. Comprised of 5 black dudes upset at the current climate of Hip Hop, we are a sonic mind fuck of blistering guitar chords and in your face lyrics. Of course, since I write all of our songs, we have songs about masturbation, the benefits of fucking midgets, George W. Bush being akin to an abusive boyfriend, my love for Janeane Garofalo, and how I know I will find the woman I'm going to marry if she lets me put an ashtray on her back and smoke while she goes down on me. Also, being the lead I get to not only curse out and threaten to fight unruly patrons, but I can go into lengthy diatribes between songs on important issues like the magical powers of my cock. But seriously, swinging my dreads around as I belt out lyrics into a crappy microphone as people bang their head, sometimes even mosh to my verbal stylings is better isn't better than sex, but it is better than dry-humping!!

I hate ghetto gospel plays: Do you know the only reason why I dreaded going over the house of a beautiful woman for some late-night ass on Saturdays?? It was simply because I knew that there was a good chance that I would wake up to some sorry ass ghetto gospel plays that she would have on video tape on Sunday morning. It's always the same thing, dialogue that just perpetuates stereotypes in the worst ways imaginable, scripts that seem like they were written by a person with down-syndrome high off of the best street-grade marijuana, and over acting akin to Jada Pinkett's performance in "Kingdom Come". But because I know that I'm a hater, I ignored my natural sensibilities and went with a friend of mine to a gospel play that was being held in my area. I think the title of the play was something like "Ohh Lord, who drank up all the Kool-Aid?" or some nonsense like that. I sat there for a few minutes as patient as possible, but similar to being subjected to Chinese water torture I jumped up and said, "I can't take this shit any more!!" and ran out of the building like I was Mel Gibson trying to capture his fleeing reputation. I'm sorry, I hate ghetto gospel plays, and if that makes me "less black" then so be it. I mean, fuck you, but so be it..

Video of the Day: Big Daddy Kane: "Ain't no half steppin"

Whenever you attack some of the current artists and their vomit inducing excesses, their fans want to defend them by saying "Yeah, but rappers back in the day talked about Jewelery, pimping, and violence. It's ok when they did it but it's not cool now??" I always wait a few beats to make them actually think that they stumped me with their pedestrian point of view, but my response is a simple one. It was ok when they did it.. You know why? Because they had skills! My point of view has always been, that if a artist has skill in the way that they talk about pimping, killing, having a fecal fetish for Christs sake, I can excuse the subject matter a lot easier.(Of course I don't condone killing, pimping, or having some fat chick drop a load on me.) The reason it was easier for me to deal with those particular subjects when broached by a seasoned wordsmith was because the logical mind knows that they are just talking out of their ass. I mean, when does a pimp know when to inject iambic pentameter, what does a murderer know about a well placed metaphor, alliteration, when does a killer find the time to practice similes between drive-by's? But nowadays, when these artists talk about killing and pimping there is an air of realism to it, because they are so wack on the mic that you just know that they have other means of employment.(ex. pimping, killing, fecal fetishes..) Anyway, I love this Kane video.

Wednesday, August 16, 2006

Video of the Day: Public Enemy: "Night of the living baseheads"

This by far is one of my favorite videos of all time, a creative tour de force that just reminds me of how great Hip Hop can be. While Nancy Reagan was giving us empty anti-drug slogans and there were commercials with some shit-stain breaking an egg in a skillet, Public Enemy and their depiction of "baseheads" was the best deterrent of on an impressionable mind like mine when it came to drug use. Granted, I never saw the allure in having a rapid heart rate, losing weight, and that sexy "glare of death" look that one aquires after a few tokes, but that's just me.

This song reminds me of this girl named Debbie and her crackhead mother. See, all of my friends would go to Debbie's house after school because we could play music there, drink, and possibly have our way with Debbie's mom because she was thick as a thoroughbred and hooked on crack.(I know, a strange combination, being "thick" and on crack, I know) Since I knew that Debbie was secretly horrified when one of her classmates was filling her moms out like an application, I was the only one that didn't find the need to have sex with the resident crack fiend of the house.(It wasn't just to spare Debbie's feeling, but I have always been wary of catching any diseases even then, and Debbie's mom looked like a walking germ farm) Anyway, every time me and my friends would knock on Debbie's door after school I would recite the same line MC Lyte did in this video, "We're in Wall Street searching for BASE-heads, lets see what we can find."

Clerks: The Lost Scene

For any of you out there who has seen the original "Clerks" movie, or like a stool sample actually give a shit, this is scene that was supposed to be in the flick originally after Dante and Randall leave their clerking duties to attend Julie Dwyer's funeral.

Keith Olbermann: The Nexus of Politics and Terror

I have first-hand experience when it comes to how crying wolf can lead to some pretty disastrous results. When I was in college I befriended this dude named Manny from New York, a slick talking cat who liked to fight and talk shit, of course we were kindred spirits. The problem with Manny, I quickly learned, was that he was a habitual liar of George W. Bush proportions. Besides lying about shit he had no reason lying about, he would always call me and ask for my help concerning "some guys" in "some bar" that wanted to jump him. Being the friend that I was, and just an ultra violent fuck who jumped at the opportunity to break a strangers jaw at a moments notice, I rushed out of bed to help my friend every single time. Each time I would get there Manny would say, "Hey man, you just missed them.." About 10 times and 4 people telling me that he was lying later, I finally decided that my new friend was pulling my chain and wasn't to be trusted. So the next time he called with some tall tale about some random group of guys who wanted to inflict bodily harm upon him, I told him that I wasn't coming and that he was full of shit. Well, as luck would have it that time he was telling the truth, he did get jumped, and to top things off he was stabbed repeatedly for his troubles.

He survived even though our friendship didn't, but I think about Manny every time the Bush administration raises the terror threat. I was always a believer that they were doing it for political gain, but seeing how Keith Olbermann broke down each time the terror threat was raised and how advantageous it was to the administration politically, I now have a legitimate reason to despise a man I affectionately call "The worst president ever". Looking at Bush's poll numbers I'm beginning to feel that people are starting to see past the terror warnings as well, let's just hope that when there is a real threat of terrorism that we don't sit idly by and let out country get stabbed. You know what I mean.

Friday, August 11, 2006

The 2006 Blackweblog Awards: A Second Term or the end of The Critic Administration??

(The first image you see is Luke Cage, head of HumanityCritic's security task force, banging on HC's bedroom door trying to wake him up)

Luke Cage:(banging on door) Rise and Shine hamster penis, you have a shitload of campaigning to do today.

(Frustrated, not only because he has gone unanswered for what feels like hours, but he suddenly realizes the homoerotic irony behind him beating on a door with the words "The Cockpit" on it, so he proceeds to kick the door down.)

Luke Cage:(Kicks the door off the hinges) Damn they don't make doors like they used to!! (Looks around at all the bottles of booze and clothes scattered everywhere) Jesus, this place is sloppier than a blow-job from a toothless whore.. HumanityCritic, get your ass up!!

HumanityCritic:(half asleep) Ugghhhh..

Luke Cage:(Approaches bed and sees HumanityCritic fast asleep besides 2 miscellaneous harlots. He starts to violently shake HumanityCritic) Hey man, get the fuck up and tell these whores to hit the road like Ben Roethlisberger!(Luke pulls back the covers and sees something that surprises him) Shit HC, when did you start fucking midgets again?

HumanityCritic:(slowly waking up, rubbing eyes) Come on Luke, it's too early for this shit..

Luke Cage: It's 2 P.M you low expectation having motherfucker!!!(Grabs both women by the arm and escorts them out of the room) OK you miniature sluts, time for you to go!!

HumanityCritic: Damn Luke, what's your problem today?

Luke Cage:(returning to the bedroom) Besides the fact that it saddens me that you fuck midgets only because they are the only women that will compliment you on your penis size??

HumanityCritic: Yes, besides that!!

Luke Cage: OK, its only a few days away from the end of the nomination period for the BlackweblogAwards and you haven't had one post where you all out pander for votes yet. What gives?!!

HumanityCritic:(smoking a joint) Luke, my dear friend(blowing smoke out the corner of his mouth) no one is going to vote for me, HumanityCritic is old news. From the wack woman blogger with the diseased vagina who dissed me last year for winning the awards that I had to dismantle, to that Uncle Tom House Negro blogger with the blogring that he won't release me from who kept saying that I was a undeserving winner even though his writings are reminiscent to those of a functioning illiterate right after suffering a stroke, its just not fucking worth it dude.

Luke Cage:(Shaking his head in disapproval)

HumanityCritic: What??

Luke Cage: That's not the HumanityCritic that I know, it's not even the HumanityCritic that all the readers who loyally read your daily incoherent ramblings know. Hey, who is the only man that I know who has knocked out 2 men past the age of 60?

HumanityCritic: That would be me..

Luke Cage: Who came up with a "Hip Hop version of Clerks", who wrote a futuristic tale about telling your grand-kids about Hip Hop, and who touched upon loving the little things about Hip Hop?? Who had the balls to call out the plethora of uninformed fucks that make up some Hip Hop fans?

HumanityCritic:(sitting up in bed) That would be me as well!!

Luke Cage: That's right!! "Fun with Racism" and "An Episode of "The Soprano's' if directed by Spike Lee", that was all you man!!

HumanityCritic: You are right Luke(Getting out of bed, raising his He-Man replica sword in the sky), we shall be victorious again!!

Luke Cage: Slow down dude, there is stiff competition and people really hate your fucking ass. But I'm glad that you decided to run because since I am missing out on all the barely legal ass that would have been thrown my way being Pharrell's bodyguard, something good has to come out of me turning down such a great gig. First things first, get dressed and see your "blog Yoda" Iselfra for spiritual enlightenment..(Looking at the bedroom door that is now on the ground) What is up with you putting "The Cockpit" on your door.

HumanityCritic: You know, a place where your garden variety woman can get the "cock", preferably mine.

Luke Cage:
It sounds like something you would name a gay bar, get dressed jackass!!

(Next we see HumanityCritic entering the home of Iselfra, his spiritual advisor and a man he calls his "Blog Yoda". NO, he hasn't taught HC to telekinetically lift things with his mind, how to handle a light saber, shit, he hasn't even showed HC the pedestrian ability to get a chick to blow him against her better judgement. But Iselrfra has taught the young padawan two important lessons. 1)Don't let anyone play you on your blog and 2)Don't fall off!! HC enters a room where Iselfra is in a yoga-like position, eyes closed, and fists clenched)

HumanityCritic: Blog Yoda, I have come here to...

Iselfrah:..get spiritual enlightenment because you want to win more Blackweblog awards??

HumanityCritic: Yeah, but, how did you know...

Iselfra: I would have thought that me picking the last three Superbowl winners, predicting that that Grey haired fuck would be the next "American Idol" winner, and me telling you that you would mistakenly take home a man masquerading as a woman would have tipped you off to my gifts by now. I'm the motherfucking truth son!!!!

Luke Cage:(looking at HumanityCritic) You took home a dude??

HumanityCritic:(Head in hands) Put it this way, I was drunk and the lead singer of the PussyCat Dolls has a bigger dick than I do..(Turning to Iselfra) So, are you going to help me or what??

Iselfra: Sure, close your eyes..(He then begins burning a substance, walking around HumanityCritic waiving said substance around him, chanting) Imagine you will win a blackweblog award, see yourself on the podium accepting your award, believe that you are worthy for every category you are going for..(Saying under his breath) Even though I'm not voting for your ass..

HumanityCritic: What??

Iselfra: Nothing, Nothing.. OK, we're done here, where are you off to now??

HumanityCritic: Well, we are off to shamelessly pander for votes, we are going to do "The O'Reilly Factor"..

(Placing his hand of HumanityCritic's forehead) Good luck young padawan!!!

HumanityCritic: Thank you blog Yoda, when will you teach me that mind trick where you get chicks to leave your residence after you ejaculate??

Iselfra: Next time young one, next time..

(We now see HumanityCritic getting a microphone put on him as he sits in the visitor's seat of "The O'Reilly Factor"

Bill O'Reilly:(sarcastically) Hey Critic, you still fucking midgets?

HumanityCritic: You know it! Do you know how much of an ego boost it is to hear a woman scream "Ohh Daddy, I can feel you in my small intestines!!!" Regular sized chicks are overrated with their "Are you inside me?? You have the erection of a grade-schooler!" bullshit.

Bill O'Reilly:

(The producer signals that they are about to start shooting..Here is the transcript of the show)


Bill O'Reilly: Welcome to "The O'Reilly Factor" ladies and gentlemen, today we have a man running for a second term in the Critic Administration. HumanityCritic, welcome!

HumanityCritic: Hey Bill

Bill O'Reilly: This isn't "Hardball", but let me throw you a hardball question at your chin.

HumanityCritic: Even though I usually try to avoid balls on my chin at all costs, I'll allow it this time.

Bill O'Reilly: Funny guy.. On other people's blogs, where they tell their readers who they are voting for, no one has you listed.. How do you feel about that??


Bill O'Reilly:
How do you feel concerning the other people who are going out for awards, the one's that said things like "This year it will be fair and square!!" Don't you take that as them questioning the validity of the awards you won last year?

HumanityCritic: Um, I didn't really think abo...

Bill O'Reilly: How about this pandering ass post?? I mean, don't you find it kind of pathetic that you have to dedicate an entire blog entry to begging??

HumanityCritic: Well see, I

Bill O'Reilly: As Eloquent as ever! Can you explain this audio-tape that we have obtained of you having sex with a man??!!

HumanityCritic: I never had sex with a man..WAIT, are you talking about me and that chick from the "PussyCat Dolls"?? Naw man, I stopped that when I found out she had a penis.

Bill O'Reilly:
That's not what this tape suggests!! Play the tape!!

(Crackling audio Tape: HumanityCritic: "Hey Baby, did you know that I was the Black Blogger of the Year??/ Pussycat Dolls chick: I did, and I find it sexy, even after you told me that my music sounds like a constipated duck in agony I still think it's sexy/. HumanityCritic: Damn girl, you have more small talk than midget speeches, drop them drawers!!/ Long Pause.. HumanityCritic: Hey, you have a dick!!!/ Obvious O'Reilly edit: HumanityCritic sounding voice: But that's the type of shit that I'm into.. Slurping sounds..)

HumanityCritic: Hey, that's an edit, that never happened!!

Bill O'Reilly: Sure pal, lets go to a commercial..

(During the break, HumanityCritic's media relations expert, Chubby Chocolate, comes over and whispers in HC's ear)

Chubby Chocolate:(whispering) Look, you are getting killed here, when he gets back from commercial I want you to represent.(Grabbing HC's face) REPRESENT!

HumanityCritic: No doubt..

Bill O'Reilly:(Coming back from Commercial) Welcome back to "The O'Reilly Factor", we were just talking to..(a fist comes out of nowhere and decks O'Reilly in the face)

HumanityCritic:(hopping over O'Reilly's desk and pounding him in the face multiple times) What now?? *punch* Talk that shit now O'Reilly!! *kick*(looks to Chubby Chocolate with blood all over his hands) How's this for "representing"?

Chubby Chocolate: I just meant stating your views in a more articulate matter, but if you are handing out beatings I'm all for that as well..(joining HC in the fight and taking out some of the FOX security team)

Luke Cage:(dismantling FOX security along with Chubby Chocolate) Hey CC, you want my job?? This is the last straw, goodbye HumanityCritic-hello Pharrell's security detail and barely legal ass!!

(The Last Scene is of a reporter standing outside a jail cell holding HumanityCritic for assaulting Bill O'Reilly)

Reporter: Because this post is entirely too long already, is there anything you would like to tell the good people out there??(puts mic through prison bars)

Yes, go to the blackweblogawards site and nominate for the following categories

1)Best Humor Blog
2)Best Personal Blog
3)Blog of the Year
4)Best Writing in a Blog
5)Best Original content-Preferably one of these two posts: A)Humanity Critic Tells His Grandkids A Very Scary Story
or B) Hip Hop Version Of Clerks, Directed By Humanity F. Critic

What you do is provide your name and then your (valid)email address, then put my blog address( beside one or all of the categories that you feel that I'm eligible for. Nominations end August 15th, be sure to vote!!

Reporter: Thank you HumanityCritic.(giving the cameraman the "cut sign")

(As HumanityCritic is about to sit down in his cell, one of his cell mates asks him a question..)

Cellmate: Hey dude, does that chick from the PussyCat Dolls..

HumanityCritic: Have a bigger dick than me? Yes, are you happy?? Is that all people can fucking think about??

Paid for by the HumanityCritic "Damn, tell your momma to use less teeth next time!" Campaign of 2006