A Tale of 2 Titties..ahem.. Dates

It has been 5 years since my last long term relationship, the years following have been spent fucking B-teamers, late-night grind buddies, and women who know its time for them to leave my residence as soon as U.S Currency hits the night stand. But since I feel that I have exercised my demons like Mary J Blige does with each album release, I recently came to the conclusion that it's time for me to enter the dating game once again. I mean, I feel that I have matured to the point that I might care if my partner didn't climax, I might even call her the next day to let her know that I didn't view her as my personal fuck toy. I'm more patient, caring, considerate, and I have finally mastered the art of opening doors for broads. Lastly I have made peace with my ex, her and I are even friendly to the point that she is my myspace friend, so you can just imagine the utter joy that rushes over my body as I go to said page and see pictures of her and her husband in poses of wedded bliss.(God is a real funny dude)

So, based on my new found confidence after shedding a few pounds and being able to see my entire dick again, I was able to talk 2 women into letting me buy them food and be their chauffeur for a night, hopefully resulting in me washing my dick in their sink at some point. Unfortunately I wasn't able to become intimately acquainted with any of my dates "roast beef corridor" as my father used to say, not because the opportunity wasn't there, but because these chicks irritated the fuck out of me. Here's how it went.

Date 1: The Young Chick: The first date was this chick who is 10 years my junior, usually I would reject dating someone that young but she had wisdom beyond her years, had a very sharp wit, and her breasts looked like two midgets trying to escape from a penitentiary or some shit. I picked her up, we had some decent conversation in the car, then she asked me "HumanityCritic, what are your intentions?? Where do you want this to go?" I paused, thought about it a few seconds, turned to her and said "I'd like to buy you the most inexpensive meal possible, fill your healthy liver full of alcoholic beverages, and based on your age I can see me fucking you like a wild fucking animal under your Lil Bow Wow poster.." Even though she laughed hysterically and said "You ain't got no sense boy!", little did she know I was dead ass serious. As soon as we got to the restaurant her phone kept ringing, and ringing, and ringing. I could respect if she looked to see who it was, weighed the importance of said call in her head, then put her phone away respectfully. Not this chick, she answered every single call and most of the conversations were of the unimportant "hey girl... Yeah, I saw flavor of love.." variety. Seriously, after like 14 calls I was getting pissed, so when the 15th call came I assumed it was her homegirl again so I said, "What does that bitch want?? Doesn't she know that you're on a date?? Where is her class??" Unfortunately it was her mother, but that didn't end the date at all. When the date was winding down and I was trying to talk her Lane Bryant's off in her house, HER PHONE KEPT RINGING. I guess I could have fucked her on her Strawberry Shortcake sheets, using her Teddy Bears to place under her stomach for better traction, as I tap that bumper like a minor car accident, trying to not lose my erection by all the posters of usher on the wall. But a clearer image of the future dominated my mind, I suddenly pictured myself thrusting on her with all the might a black guy with an undersized penis could, her talking on the phone, unaffected by the ramming and the dreadlocks in her face. So yeah, lets just say that I left her residence with a serious case of "Smurf Nuts".

Date 2: The Crazy Chick: Maybe this is a guy thing, but when it comes to certain ex's you forget why you broke up with them in the first place. I guess it's all the years of bong hits that affected my memory, or the sperm back up that has me thinking with another "head", but I had truly forgotten why me and this chick named Rosa never worked out. She was smart, fun to be around, didn't have a gag reflex to speak of, and I distinctly remember her saying "If you make me climax I'll cook you some cheese eggs" mid-coitus, that's motivation like a motherfucker. So I decided to give Rosa a call and we went out recently, a night that I'm doing my best to forget. Immediately I recall how neurotic she is because she kept saying, "If we are going to do this we have to pretend this is brand new, you don't call me an ex and I won't call you an ex. Deal??" I shrugged and said, "Ok, what do you call me then, "The Artist Formerly Blown As??" When she didn't laugh I suddenly remembered that she wasn't fun to be around at all, the rest of the date would prove that to me. Besides her trying to order my food for me and evil eying every waitresses that she felt was flirting with me, she told me that she has joined this religious group(see cult) and that she wanted me to join. If any feeling of me still dating her remained, all of that was erased when she told me about her marriage plans for her and I and how she drives past my house at least 3 times a week. Despite all her craziness I still wanted to, and I quote the great poet Ice Cube, "knock those books from here to Albuquerque" and "wax that ass like rain dance" Let me tell you, nothing decreases the size of your penis like hearing a girl say, in the middle of making out no less, "I shouldn't be telling you this, but I feel like you are going to be the last guy I ever have sex with. I love you HC!!" I was out of there faster than Shaq at a spelling Bee.

*Stay Tuned next week with recaps of 2 more dates*

My friends life meant more than a short paragraph on page D3

The second week in October will mark the two year anniversary that my best friend Buddy was shot dead in a local nightclub. As I read the 40 word paragraph at the end of my local newspaper about the culprit pleading guilty to my friend's murder, an overwhelming sadness filled my body because his life meant more than that.

When most men who are insecure about whether they like vagina or penis would frown upon this, Buddy was the only guy that I know who would allow me to vent about the harlot of the day that broke my heart. It wasn't in his nature to be a black doctor Phil by any means, but the mere fact that he sat through my "Ok, her vagina suddenly has more room than a mansion and she calls me other names during sex. Does that mean she's cheating?" rants just showed me that he was the best friend a guy could have. His life meant more than the 2 for 1 shoe coupon that was above his article that I read on D3.

When most people would allow someone to waste their talents like DJ Premiere on a Group Home album, Buddy would always call me and ask "When is the last time you wrote a rhyme??" Even years after I had given up my dreams of standing behind a microphone, he would basically blackmail me into writing a decent 16. I still remember him saying, "HC, I'm throwing this party this weekend where there will be a slew of girls with loose morals. The only way you can come is to not only write a rhyme, but battle people every motherfucker there!!" Of course I would do it, because free booze and available vagina's are my kryptonite, but I appreciated his undying love for Hip Hop, and his confidence in my abilities. I'm saying, people wouldn't expect that based on his article that I read, the one right beside some bullshit ship getting decommissioned.

Buddy had a motto that I soon adopted when it came to getting involved in each others physical altercations: "Regardless of the circumstances, when I see you in a scuffle I'm landing some key shots in your honor. If you are in the wrong I'll tell you about yourself later, after we kick that guy's ass!!" Suffice it to say I was wrong a lot, and Buddy saved me from getting my ass handed to me on a few occasions. Those Bikers in North Carolina, those Frat guys in Norfolk, those muscle bound Transvestites in New York.(Don't ask) I really don't think folks will get how loyal he was based a 40 word article on the bottom of a newspaper page.

Hell, I'm no thug, and going to jail and getting my anal security breached keeps me up some nights. But right after he passed I went around town, asked questions, and made threats like I was Shaft's dread-locked illegitimate son to find my friends killer. Even though my arrest sheet is as bare as George W. Bush's military record, I hoped that I would find the bastard who killed Buddy, point a weapon at him, and say some corny catchphrase before I sent him to his maker, possibly going the cool route by quoting Kool G Rap on some "Your begging and your pleases only getting your closer to meeting jesus" shit. It never happened, apparently the guy high tailed it to New York immediately, but my loyalty for my friends surpassed any brief mention of my friend in a Virginia Beach publication.

Shit man, Buddy even came to me in my dream and simply said, "It's not your fault!", the motherfucker is even a pal beyond the grave. See, since the night he died I have had nothing but conflicting feelings to be totally honest. On one hand I wish I was there to protect my friend, maybe if I was in attendance I could have stopped that motherfucker from killing my friend. But on the flip-side I realize that that could have easily been me, and as much as I'm not trying to die yet, I just wouldn't want to do that to my mother. But Buddy reassured me, like always, a level of friendship that you might not understand by reading a snippet of a article in the back of a goddamn newspaper.

Rest in Peace Fletcher Parker III

My Hip Hop conspiracy theory bordering on science fiction..

When I first started listening to Hip Hop in the late 70's and early 80's in Naval Housing in Virginia Beach Virginia, my father didn't scoff at the new form of music like most parents did. My father and I never had the best relationship, but one thing that I love about the guy is how he would sit with me and listen to Kurtis Blow, Funky Four+1, and acts of the time with a very objective ear. Looking at the glazed look in his eyes it was like some sort of door that was unlocked to him for so many years was finally being opened. He wasn't a fan by any means, but some of the shit that he would say about the art-form that I Love is the reason that I hold this conspiracy theory that I'm about to share with you, his words will haunt me forever by the way. I mean, yeah my father was a shit talker and a story teller, but he once told me about being in a circle of guy's while they rapped in the 50's(cypher). He told me that some dudes approached him many decades ago about Hip Hop, and they kepts stressing to him the importance of "getting it right" and "taking it back to its roots". At the time, because my father usually talked out of his ass and was known to have "one too many", I quickly dismissed what he said as drunken nonsense. This one time when we were watching television together and a DJ was scratching records, he told me some story about those same dudes also scratching records on "turntables that lit up" as succinctly put it. Again, this is the same guy who minutes before told me that he had a scientific way of knowing if a kid was gay based on how he threw a football, so I disregarded what he said as rubbish even though I noticed his ultra serious tone.

Of course the stories about his experience with what would later be named "Hip Hop" kept coming, like him telling me that those dudes constantly had "rhyme offs" in front of him(battling), they would always be "spinning on their backs"(B-Boying), and he would go on and on about how they wanted him to tell as many people as he could about what they were doing and the importance of it. I really started to think that my father had a mental disorder for a while and I just hoped that shit wasn't hereditary. That was until he told me on his death bed that one of those dudes that he talked about visited him one night. He said, "HumanityCritic, that guy that was doing that rap shit 30 years before it became popular, he visited me last night. That brother hasn't aged a bit!"

Here's the science fiction part that might make many of you stop reading my blog immediately, but I have a theory, a theory that my mother begged me not to share because it might result in me being in a padded room. But fuck it, here goes. I think that somehow some disgruntled Hip Hop purists of the future got a hold of my rants about the deplorable state of Hip Hop and decided to go back in time on some reversal Terminator 2 shit. They saw me as some sort of savior of the genre for generations to come, but they also know that I'm a lazy bastard who needs the proper motivation, so their plan was to go back in time and influence me to somehow change Hip Hop. Problem was, since me and my father have the same first and last name, they somehow got the wrong "Humanity F Critic", so that explains all of those stories about rapping and DJing that my father claimed he witnessed in the 50's. I knoe, I know, wouldn't the time travellers immediately know that they went back too far?? Couldn't they tell the difference between the 1950's and 2006?? Good points, I haven't figured that part out just yet..

Quote of the Day..Al Franken

Al Franken a few days ago on "The Daily Show" talking about the guy who I want defeated in his bid for Senate Re-election of Virginia, George Allen:

"You don't want to go into the last month of a campaign where the only issue is not IF you are a racist but how big of a racist are you.."

Video of the Day: Boogie Down Productions: "My Philosophy"

This sounds bad, but I keep my friends segregated..

You would think that me of all people, the son of a man that constantly retold various accounts of seeing lifeless bodies swinging from trees and other forms of brutality in the name of racism in South Carolina during the 40's and 50's, you'd think that I'd be the last motherfucker on earth that would support segregation of any kind. I thought so too, I mean I'm a pretty progressive guy, what do I care if two guys want to check each others prostate with their cocks and then finalize it with a marriage? Since I have openly suggested that a few of my ex-girlfriend's get boob jobs and then got slapped for doing so, I now realize that I don't have any right to tell a woman what to do with her body. So yeah I'm your classic tree hugger in many respects, but when it comes to my friends I do believe in segregation. Like white people who want to get dreadlocks, please don't get it twisted, I don't separate my friends based on the color of their skin. I base it on the types of people that they are, and from experience and the few times that I have mixed them up and hearing open complaints that they were having a bad time, or fists fights that have broken out due to the complete lack of chemistry. Sure there are a few friends who can intermingle with any of the groups that I'm about to name, but for the most part I keep these groups of people separated like I'm Mills Lane and shit.

The Frat Boys: These are my drinking buddies, dudes who wouldn't find any moral objection to me punching a dude in the mouth for no apparent reason whatsoever, going home with a woman who's vagina was the inspiration for the movie "Outbreak", or finding the utter hilarity on me projectile vomiting on a woman who I'm giving my number to. I am a pretty sensitive guy who is myself around anyone, but going into a detail about the emotional roller-coaster of dealing with a break-up or the very personal feelings of wanting to be in love again will leave you with blank stares akin to asking Keisha Coles to find Australia on a globe. These are highly intelligent dudes so I'm not saying that their scope is limited, its just limited when we're going out on some "only talk about tits, fighting, the intricacies of giving a chick a facial, and drinking" shit. Yes, I'm part Frat Boy.

The Artsy Fartsy types: I'm a snob when it comes to what I like in music and film, so many people who I gravitate to either have the same level of snobbery that I do, or they have an agenda of hate that's unparalleled when it comes to people they think are sub-par in the area of rapping, acting, writing, or whatever. But beside the people like myself who openly think my tastes are better than yours, I also have a shitload of friends who either want the world to enjoy their hamfisted poetry or their cluster-fuck of verbal drivel.(like this blog) When I step outside of myself and hear the pretentious shit that we're talking about like what we think Langston Hughes was saying in a particular piece of writing, or the emotions that some jackass artist was trying to convey in one of his paintings, the Frat Boy in me shakes my head. Yes, I kind be Artsy-Fartsy.

The uber dorks: For those of you out there who have read my site for more than 5 minutes and not through some sloppy "look what this asshole said!" diss link, you know that my usage of the term "dork" isn't negative at all. It's true though, I have a slew of friends who can name the guy in charge of lights and the best boy of each one of the "Star Wars" flicks, can rattle off the specific comic book number of any story Superhero occurrence you question them about, and upon request they can speak fluent Klingon like they were a long lost relative of Spock himself. I guess the main reason that I don't mix this rag-tag bunch with any of my other friends is because I'd feel bad if they had to relive High School again based on the friends that I have who aren't as accepting as I am. Plus, if anyone gave them shit I would always be on their side to be totally honest. So yeah, I'm an uber dork.


Hip Hop heads aka Disgruntled Rappers: Maybe my distaste for the current state of Hip Hop has to do with me being a disgruntled rapper who's dreams of seeing my name in lights never came true, so to feel better and get a good nights sleep I bash wordsmiths of the day based on my bitter jealousy. Or it could be, I don't know, that a large portion of the individuals who call themselves MC's nowadays couldn't make a dope beat if you hit them with a bass drum full of coke, and couldn't construct a decent simile if they were on the business end of a Dennis Miller ass raping. Anyway, I not only hang with a group of people who feel the same way about modern day Hip Hop as I do, but our favorite pastimes when together include booing wack rappers, debating our top 10 rappers of all time, and freestyle batting any motherfucker with a functioning pair of testicles and a rhyme book. I keep these bastards away from my other friends because any topic outside of old school Hip Hop would be met with a "who gives a fuck?!!!" So yes, I'm a disgruntled rapper.

Young Padawans: At the advanced age of 33, I have find myself being friendly with people a lot younger than myself. No, I'm not a pedophile, I'm talking about dudes around 10-12 years my junior. I know they see me as a crotchety old man who makes them laugh, even calling me "The Hip Hop Uncle Rico" based on how I constantly talk about the golden age of Hip Hop, but I figure that I will be the source of anyone's entertainment as long as those similac fucks are buying the drinks. Besides me being a very easy alcoholic, it makes me feel good that I've influenced these men in their early 20's so their tastes in Hip Hop are a lot more respectable than douche-bags at least 10 years their senior.

Females from the planet of "plantonica": Like most men who have platonic female friends, 95% of them became my friends only because they knew better than to let me stick my "black myth ruiner" inside her naughty orifices. Its cool though, and based on our accidental friendship I never go over the line by making sexual overtures, or drunk calling them and begging them to reconsider our status of "friendships". I'm certain that many of my female friends would get along with almost all of my other friends to be totally honest, but I don't let them mingle because I have a strict "If I'm not fucking them, none of you are either" policy.

Olbermann's Special Comment on FOX News' Clinton Interview

I know in the past when I have said things like "That woman had the smelliest crotch this side of the equator!!", or when I told a young mother in the grocery store "Your kid's head is the biggest I've ever seen!!", I understand when people accuse me of hyperbole. But my idiocy aside, Keith Olbermann is by far the most informative and honest newsman on cable television. I know that is like praising a retarded kid because he doesn't double dribble during a pick-up game of basketball based on the sorry state of affairs T.V news is in nowadays, it's just good to not have to put that mental filter on when you watch a news show. Because his hero was the great Edward R. Murrow, at the end of each broadcast Olbermann says the parting words that Murrow made famous, "Good Night, and Good luck". I find his choice of words fitting, because even though I've been known for my brand of hyperbole, I do feel that Keith Olbermann is the Edward R. Murrow of our day to be quite honest. Even though there is no comparing the bravery that Edward R. Murrow showed as he was committed to telling the American people the truth despite the poisonous atmosphere surrounding Joseph McCarthy and those communist witch-hunts, I see a reminder of said bravery in Olbermann, a man unafraid to tell it like it is despite a news media that has been neutered during the entire Bush Administration.

A Public Service Announcement to Black folks concerning Condi Rice..

In response to the Fox interview Bill Clinton gave to Chris Wallace where he handed him his sub-par journalistic ass concerning his role fighting terrorism, Condi Rice decided to add her Aunt Tomasina 2 cents with: "What we did in the eight months was at least as aggressive as what the Clinton administration did in the preceding years," during a meeting with editors and reporters at the New York Post. Before I get into the sleazy nature of her retort, I started to think long and hard about my people, no not sexual deviants and proverbial pre-ejaculators the world over, but black folks. See, even though there have been plenty of people born with melanin who correctly assume that Ms. Rice is unfit for her job, I have heard loved ones, friends, acquaintances, even fellow bloggers suggest that we should give her some sort of pass because she is a "black woman in a high position". Listen, call me a sellout out if you like, I was even called that once when I asked if it was alright if I took a white date to a nation of Islam rally, but my support for my race stops at blistering incompetence. That line of thinking is akin to giving someone more respect just because they did a prison bid, that line of thinking is akin to somehow feeling that getting grades is uncool, that line of thinking is akin to saying someone is "trying to be white" just because they might fully pronounce their words. In no area of life would that logic be acceptable, would you give a black surgeon a pass because of the line of work he was in as he was about to operate on your mother, even though he had a track record of malpractice and lawsuits as long and depressing as a Mary J. Blige video? Of course you wouldn't.

As for Ms. Rice, when she claimed that no one could have predicted that anyone would use planes as a missile, we later learned that on 8/6/01 the president received a 2 page briefing about Bin Laden possibly using aircraft's to attack the United States. When she claimed that the "president launched an aggressive response after 9/11.", we later learned that after the Sept. 11, 2001 attacks, the Bush White House cut by nearly two-thirds an emergency request for counter-terrorism funds by the FBI, and that Ashcroft ranked counter-terrorism efforts as a lower priority than his predecessor did, and also he resisted FBI requests for more counter-terrorism funding before and immediately after the attacks. When she claimed that the outgoing Clinton administration didn't warn her about al Qaeda, we learned from the 9/11 commission that Richard Clarke forwarded his December 2000 strategy paper and a copy of his 1998 Delenda plan to the new national security adviser. So her suggesting that they did more in the 8 months preceding 9/11 about terrorism than Clinton did in his 8 years in office is as ridiculous as a current Secretary of State shopping for High priced shoes and watching "Spamalot" while an American City is virtually underwater.(ahem) Ms. Rice, to quote Chuck D, "Every brother ain't a brother cause of color!", and to give you some credit soley on the fact that we both are black americans is a dicredit to my race.

Video of the Day: Black Moon: "Who Got Da Props"

2006 DMC World Team Champions C2C

2003 DMC Performance
2004 DMC Performance
2005 DMC Performance

My "Fuck Blockbuster!! Hello Netflix" selection of the day: "Dinner for 5: Season 1"

Even though "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate factory" and "Hollywood Shuffle" are two of my most favorite movies, don't hold that against me, I feel that I'm a motherfucking film connoisseur. That's why, after what feels like a lifelong struggle with phantom late fees and a staff that knows about as much about film as a mute ,a few months ago I gave Blockbuster their walking papers and went with Netflix. The last thing I ordered was Season 1 of the Jon Favreau hosted show "Dinner for 5". Listen, even though my acting credits range from "Black guy #1" in my 4th grade play to stereotypical "Drug Dealer Charlie" in one High School production, I love to hear actors talk about their craft and inside information on the wonderful world of film.

The DVD wasn't that bad, you get to hear actors relay their personal experiences in some random L.A restaurant over Merlot and overpriced meals, that is something to be expected. I love Jon Favreau and I'm a fan of "Made" and especially "Swingers", but the way that he constantly segues every conversation to relate to one or both of those pictures is as irritating as getting a blow job from a hooker with Narcolepsy. If someone brings up an unruly extra Favreau chimes in with "This one time on "Made", budget concerns, script changes, stem cell research or motherfucking the slaughter in Darfur, you will occasionally hear "This one time on "Swingers" Jesus fucking Christ Jon, I get it, you were in "Made" and "Swingers"..

The Art of Getting Jumped.

"It only takes a second less you got on ice
Just for wearin your chain in they club, they'll beat you twice
Served with fried rice, you get a can of whoop ass
My only advice is don't fall and book ass"
-Trugoy(De La Soul)



When I first heard the song "The Art of Getting Jumped" on De La Soul's "Art Official Intelligence: Mosaic Thump" album, it reminded me of all the times I had been on the business end of a 5 man beating. But that was two full years before I even knew what a blog was, in 2000 I was just beginning to learn how to multi-task online, you know - beating off violently while skillfully using the mouse to click on deviant mpegs with the other hand. So now that I have my own personal soapbox to spew whatever drivel of the day that I feel is important, I want to address specifically what that De La Soul titles states, The Art of getting Jumped.

Maybe because I've always been a big fan of fair fights, or because I've seen innocent beatings quickly turn into attempted murder charges - I have never been part of a gang of guys on the sole mission of beating some hapless sap senseless. But because I have been known to randomly have sex with other peoples girlfriends and wives, broken the hearts of women with criminal siblings, and a plethora of other indefensible offenses that I'm sure you have read on this blog before - I could probably teach a college course on getting jumped. Listen, I'm not a trained professional so please take my pedestrian attempt at advice with a grain of salt, but these are just some tactics that worked when a handful of disgruntled gentlemen wanted my rectum to be intimately acquainted with their Pro-Keds. That being said, here are some helpful hints if you find yourself being jumped.

Aim for the biggest mouth: I've said this before, but its my experience that the average person out there really doesn't want to fight. Its kind of like the roadrage, people can flip you off all they want and honk their horn continuously - but see what happens when you actually pull beside their automobile looking rather disgruntled while holding a tire iron and you literally see the machismo ooze out of their body like the substance that came out of "Stretch Armstrong" when you overextended him.(Take my word for it) Usually in a pack of men that want to stomp you out like they are making wine or some shit, there is usually one guy that talks the most shit - kind of like a male cheerleader trying to get his brethren on the same "whipping your ass" agenda. My advice is, with all your might, is to hit that motherfucker first and as hard as humanly possible. Most of the time it leaves the other guys dumbstruck, you know, with their sole motivation laying on the ground missing some bicuspids and all. But even if it doesn't work and you get your ass kicked anyway, you will still feel better that you put that mouthy motherfucker out of his misery anyways.

Stop, drop, and Roll: Remember in grade school when they made us watch those fire safety videos, you know the ones, "stop, drop, and roll"?? Well, I have the same advice if you ever find yourself on the ground surrounded by a slew of overpriced sneakers. The one mistake that people try to do when they are on the ground taking a Grade A ass-whipping is quickly get up, which is a huge mistake because your face will become a defacto catcher's mit of punches way as you try to get to your feet. I also hate that defeated approach, you know the one, where the person just covers their face up while in the fetal position - just hoping that the savage beating will stop as soon as possible. My advice is when you are on the ground just roll around like you are on fire, and when you get to an impediment(someones leg) throw a vicious elbow to that individuals knee, then repeat. Listen, it may not help you, but at least you can find comfort in maiming a motherfucker and knowing that you getting your ass handed to you wasn't in vain.

Stick and Move: I guess this is an obvious one, but sticking and moving is essential whenever you are getting jumped. We all have ego's, so it is a natural reaction for you to admire your work, meaning you sit there and watch your opponent after you hit him with a brutal punch. Please ignore that temptation because you might get a concussion that way, so the best thing to do is punch a motherfucker and move immediately, or punch him and spin him around. It sounds silly, punching some jackass and spinning him around like the both of you are ballroom dancing, but its better than spitting out teeth isn't it??

Be Randy Savage!: Not only is it a good idea because it freaks out some of the would be ass whoopers, but grabbing a guy and throwing him out of the way is just good strategy when being jumped. What you need to do is pick up the smallest guy out of the pack of miserable bastards that pray and pray on your downfall, and before you toss him like a pair of horseshoes use him as a weapon and back some of his boys off. This one time it worked like a charm for me, the way I grabbed a motherfuckers ankles and batted his boys away was classic. Granted, the guy I threw around was a midget who had to weigh all of 70 pounds, but that's semantical argument you motherfucker.

A few rules that I live by..

Hey, I'm a pretty simple guy, a dude who just wants a couple of hot meals mixed in with a few fleeting moments of climax via Internet filth. Since I'm a hypocrite of "I'd never fuck Mariah Carey, I'd fold her loony ass up like origami!" proportions, I usually reject trying to live up to any personal code of conduct. There I go being a hypocrite again, I actually do live by my own personal "code" so to speak. Here are a few of my rules..


1. I Never Date a Woman who has wild animals as pets: Maybe I'm alone here, but every time I have dated a chick who had a python, or some dangerous animal that shouldn't be domesticated as a pet, she has wound up being nuttier than squirrel turds. Besides having a mental disorder, most of the times these chicks have the wildest sexual appetites imaginable. Listen, I'm all for my lady dressing in a catholic school uniform, me fucking her while I'm in a pope's robe, and possibly later on me eating mac and cheese off of her backside, I can get freaky with the rest of them. But that's tame compared to the "Hey, let me blow you on a roller-coaster-I want you to wear a diaper so I can literally breast feed you-let me take a steaming dump on you chest" request you get from these broads.


2. I can't trust a man who doesn't like sports: I'm not saying that a dude has to be into the major sports or anything, but at least like A sport. I don't know what it is, but if a heterosexual man openly admits like he's giving the "I have a Dream" speech that he doesn't like sports, I feel that that bastard isn't to be trusted. At least like tennis, bowling, I might give your sorry ass a pass even if you say that you are a curling aficionado.

3. I am a firm believer in snitching: Granted, if you are involved in a robbery and you are the only on that got caught, I don't believe in snitching in that case. But all other cases I believe in snitching the same way Rakim believes in his microphone, the same way Karl Rove believes in smearing people, the same way that Karin Steffans believes in cock. Let me tell you something, I'm not supposed to go to the police if I witness someone getting killed because it goes against some fucking code of conduct?? Man, fuck you!! I don't believe in snitching on my friends, but if I didn't do anything wrong and I have jail time hanging over my head based on something my boy did, I'm telling like a motherfucker. Imagine me sitting in jail based on something I didn't do, eating horrible meals and hoping that a fellow inmate named "Tiny" doesn't decide to ram his cock into my prostate because I didn't want to be considered a "snitch". Again, fuck you!

4. I Never date a woman who has bad kids: Ladies, I know that many of you have kids and men who you date should be understanding of that. But ladies, I don't need to understand your kid having the mark of the best on the back of his head, tearing up shit and acting like a complete animal based on your sub-par parenting skills. Not only do I discontinue the possibility of a relationship because the woman's kids should be in a padded room somewhere, but I know me, and if I'd stayed I'd probably end up saying something that I regret like "You need to put these crumb-snatching bastards on a leash!!", "Jesus, these kids are the poster-children for abortions!", or "Whap!".(Ok, thats not a word but the sound of my hand across their behinds.)

5. If someone says they like a wack rapper, I never trust anything they ever fucking say again!: Its the truth, tell me in confidence that you like the verbal stylings of Paul Wall or some other garden variety handicapped lyricist, and I won't listen to anything you say.. Ever. I'm serious, if I had what I thought was an incurable disease and you tried to explain to me that you had the antidote, you would just sound like Charlie Brown's teacher to me.


6. I never date a woman with bad taste in music or film: Since I'm a music and film snob, I try to find out what a woman's tastes are immediately. It's horrible and I know I'm probably leaving a lot of women in the cold, but you have to believe that I'm doing those women a service. See, if I decided to get with a woman who liked 3-Six mafia or Young Jeezy, I'm pretty sure things would go alright between us for a while. But I'm sure that one day I would find myself in an abandoned parking lot some where, meeting some stranger and paying him an extremely large amount of money to perform a hit for me.

7. I never fight midgets or the handicapped..anymore: It's true, once upon a time I had no problem punching motherfuckers regardless if they were in a wheel chair, mentally slow, even if they were vertically challenged. But now I see the error in my ways and from this point forward I plan to fight people who are my size, and who are of sound mind and body. Plus, I can't get over the embarrassment of drunkenly fighting a midget one night that talked shit to me, and some lady screaming "Why don't you fight someone your own size!!", so I got on my knees and whipped that midgets ass!

8. I never go down on a chick who keeps a messy house: I'm not the neatest person in the world but let me explain. This might sound silly, but I don't date a woman who has a messy house because if she keeps her living quarters in such disarray, image the sad state of affairs she keeps her vagina. I'm just saying.

Video of the Day: De La Soul: "Baby Phat"

I'm glad that people genuinely like what I do here, I really am, but the weirdest part about it is all of the people who come to me with legitimate problems and real life concerns. Even though taking advice from the likes of me is akin to asking Courtney Love for hygiene tips based on the daily drivel that you see here, but I still warn people that I'm the wrong source of advice imaginable. Anyway, I got an email from this woman named Suzy who told me about her boyfriend threatening to leave her because she gained a few pounds. Before I could get around to answering the email, she sent me a photo and it was obvious that not only was she a lovely lady that shouldn't have anything to worry about, but that her boyfriend should be beaten to death with a pillowcase of soda's. So of course I gave her words of encouragement and told her to be proud of who she is, along with my phone number and how I prefer chicks who lack a gag reflex. I know that a trained therapist wouldn't hit on his clients, but motherfucker I'm not a trained therapist!!! Anyway, Suzy, this video is dedicated to you.



*Suzy is Ok with being outed*

Shooting After Jim Jones Rap Concert in VA Beach

From AllHipHop.com

One person died and three others were injured in a shoot-out that erupted early this morning (Sept. 22) after a Virginia concert last night by Dipset rapper Jim Jones, sources reported.

The shooting occurred around 2 a.m. at the Miami Restaurant and Lounge in Virginia Beach.

Witnesses allege that multiple shots were fired, and one male victim was taken away in an ambulance after the club was placed on lockdown by local police.

"The shooting occurred when the club was clearing out," Virginia Beach Police media relations officer Margie Long told AllHipHop.com. "We are still conducting interviews, because there were numerous shooters. One victim died and the [other] victims suffered serious injuries. One victim was flown out by helicopter to [a] local trauma center."

The name of the victim was not released, pending notification of next of kin.

No arrests were made in the shooting, and the motive of the crime is being investigated.

In July, a concert featuring fellow Dipset member Juelz Santana turned violent at a club in Allentown, Penn.

Two people were arrested and four were treated for minor injuries in that incident.

One of the wackest rappers to ever grip a microphone comes to my fair city and I didn't know about it?? I'm slipping in my own age, if I'd known that he was coming I would have picketed him with civil rights era signs, alerting everyone to his proverbial wackness. I would have made it known via megaphone that listening to Jim Jones is like hearing a constipated turkey, just with less of a vocabulary. Rest in Peace to the gentleman who lost his life last night, but I just know that Peter is asking him at the Pearly gates, "What in the fuck were you doing at a Jim Jones show anyway?"

Weird Al - White and Nerdy

Is the current state of Hip Hop like the Bush Administration??(A Repost by Request)

You know what, I can say with a straight face that I sort of respect Bush supporters, I'm being completely honest with you. I mean, despite an economy in the shitter, blatant incompetence that makes you think that Barney Fife has been the one running the country for the last 6 years, Katrina, being lied into a war, and a shitload of other offenses that I could list for days on end, people still want to stand behind their commander in Chief, that is loyalty like a motherfucker. The way that people who support this administration tell you, with a straight face of their own by the way, that Iraq is going swimmingly is a commitment to incompetence that I am forced to applaud. It reminds me of Hip Hop in a way, despite the proverbial wackness that the genre is in, the depleted level of skill that is being passed off as being "lyrical" nowadays, the unimaginative cluster-fuck of artists that are being embraced by the masses, there are still a great deal of people who simply can't, won't, or don't recognize the shit-storm thats around them. It made me start to think that Hip Hop is a lot like, *gulp*, the Bush administration.

Hip Hop fans: "Bush supporters": Bush supporters are a lot like a lot of Hip Hop fans in many areas to be totally honest. They both are loyal to people who treat them like glass licking retards, nodding along like the mindless automatons that they are as their intelligence is being insulted, eating up every word like its the fucking gospel. Also, Bush supporters and fans of sub-par Hip Hop have something else in common as well, they get hysterical and act all emotional like a schizophrenic on her period if you talk about "their guy" in unflattering terms. I'm serious, say something bad about Bush to one of his supporters, or say that Young Jeezy's music sounds like a gorilla cumming and see the reaction you get. Like prodigy said, "..you better have that riot gear ready.."

Hip Hop Journalists: "Fox News": Listen, when I tell you to not listen to Hip Hop journalists I mean it, so if you consider me one and want to ignore me like an Eddie Murphy comeback album so be it, because I applaud independent thought. Just like there are good Hip Hop fans out there, there are also great Hip Hop journalists as well, they are just few and far between. I mean, when they go out of their way to defend sub-par Hip Hop and assure the masses that Hip Hop isn't dead, how can we take them seriously? Especially considering that money is their bottom line, and they wouldn't want to fuck their writing career by being honest, and most of all they wouldn't want to mess up their life long aspiration of being on "Best Week Ever!!" Like Fox News, Hip Hop journalists aren't to be trusted because they are just shoving propaganda down your collective throats for a greater personal good.

Corrupt Politicians: "The Artists": Just like the dirty politicians associated with the Bush administration, most of the artists out there have no problems taking your hard earned money in exchange for such a shitty display of public service. People tell me that the days of payola in the music business are over, but based on the steady rotation of constant bullshit that is played on a daily bases on your public airways, I find that pretty difficult to believe. Just like that lobbyist that lines the pockets of your states senator just so he would vote a certain way when a certain bill is presented in front of him, I'm sure that artists, or their reps, line the pockets of some of these radio people so you too will be doing some ghetto dance in no time flat. Of course this isn't an indictment of all artists, but you all knew that..

Press Secretary: "DJ's": I'm not talking about your garden variety DJ, possibly one of your homeboys who still spins legitimate Hip Hop whenever he does a house party in your local area, I'm talking about some of the more popular mixtape DJ dudes who have reached prominence in the recent years. Most of these dude, my age or older who were born and raised on great Hip Hop, will wax poetically on "how great" the art-form is now and how it's "progressing". Those displays of ignorance made me want to go to one of their shows, approach them like I wanted an autograph, and as they reached for their pen I'd punch them in the throat repeatedly, possibly throwing their DJ equipment over their suffocating body for good measure. But I realized something, these dudes know that 90% of the stuff that they play is horseshit, but to keep their kids fed and maintain their monthly allowance of stripper cash, they have to put a good face on their feelings of the genre in its present state.(I guess they ignored O.C when he said, "I'd rather be broke and have a whole lot of respect") It reminds me of the Press Secretary, even though he privately knows the low approval ratings of the president, the shambles that is Iraq, and overall incompetence on every level on the administration, he has to go in front of the press core every day and act like things are going smoothly. Put a good face on things so to speak.

George W. Bush: "The Radio": Of course the radio doesn't represent real Hip Hop by any means, but George Bush doesn't exactly represent an authentic Commander in Chief either. Bush is simply a puppet being pulled by right wing puppet masters and the radio is just a vehicle for evil record execs, but what they both have in common is that they have the collective ear of the American people. The same way that Bush wants you to think that Democrats are a bunch of "cut and runners" when it comes to Iraq, the radio tries to make you forget your Hip Hop sensibilities and get you to make your "shoulder lean". The way that Bush always says that we are "fighting them there so we won't have to fight them here", is similar to the message the radio tries to brainwash you into "snap" dancing or doing a minstrel-esque dance entitled the "Chicken Soup".

Karl Rove: "Record executives": Karl Rove is just like those evil record executives, the men behind the curtain running the entire show with evil plans of world domination etched in their cerebellum's. The same way that Karl Rove was behind the shameless attacks on Max Cleland, a veteran who lost both legs and part of an arm in Vietnam by calling him "unpatriotic" in one of his campaigns, I feel that record execs are behind the notion that lyricism and integrity are things of the past concerning Hip Hop. The way that Karl Rove insisted that the republican party disregard Global Warming as nonsense and embrace lowing the standards of power plants just for a buck, despite the danger that both have on the health of American people, records execs have no qualms about putting out mindless Hip Hop that is endangering the Hip Hop landscape that we live in. Evil fucking bastards!

Maybe I'm old but, I just don't fucking get it..

Listen, I know that my viewpoint when it comes to current day Hip Hop makes me seem like someones parent that can't let go of the "old days". Yes, I think that 90% of the people who consider themselves musical wordsmiths are nothing but modern day coons, flashing their watermelon grins to an accepting audience that is as clueless as Forrest Gump on Crystal Meth. Yes, I feel that most of the rappers who characterize themselves as "conscious" are just a few notches above being functioning illiterates, who couldn't speak articulately about a news item if you held a USA Today newspaper and a loaded 45 to their collective heads. And Yes, I distrust Hip Hop publications and most journalists, because like a house negro, they talk a good game but at the end of the day you can find their tongue up massa's ass literally and figuratively. But maybe I'm too harsh on Hip Hop, maybe I should adopt that horseshit "changing times" notion that every sub-par scribe this side of the equator tries to bombard us with? Maybe some of the artists that I give shit to like a colostomy bag, the artists that people I respect tend to like and I despise, maybe I'm just hating on that artist.. So over the past week or so I have given multiple listens throughout the catalogs of some artists that I think suck, but some of my peers feel are the "cats pajama's" so to speak. I gave it the old college try, tried to be objective as humanly possible and came to the conclusion that there artists still blow something fierce, like that superhero "Storm" at a fellatio contest. I just don't get why people would like these artists..

Cam'ron: When Cam'ron first came out with that "Horse and Carriage" shit I thought he was alright, but since then his music has been irritating like that pimple on your ass that you keep getting reminded of whenever you sit down. From the over-produced monstrosity of a track that he rhymes over, the elementary rhyme style that takes me back to Mrs. Wilson's 3rd grade class, not to mention a feeling of losing I.Q points whenever you see this cum-stain in an interview. Besides his lackluster rhymes and him being a Hip Hop abomination, what's up with dude's crew? Jewells Santana is one torrential downpour of wackness, and Jim Jones looks like some homeless guy that Cam'ron decided to give a contract to. Some people that I respect like these cats and for the life of me I don't know why, I don't know whether to end my friendships with these people or beat them upside the head with a copy of "Paid in Full" so they can regain some of their god given common sense.

Clipse: On one hand I have to give these guys love because they come from my area, and anytime someone can escape the Hampton Roads area to make a name for themselves I have to give them the proper respect. But on the other hands to call them average MC's seems like a compliment, their uber corny to me, and the image that they try to push upon their listeners that they are "drug dealers" just inspires giggles from your resident Throat-chopper.(yes, "other hands", I'm an Octopus motherfucker!!!!) I really don't think that these guys are the worst people to ever be behind a microphone, but some people online act like these motherfuckers are "A Tribe Called Quest" or some shit, slow down sugar-tits. I don't know these dudes personally but when I heard them say "I'm from Virginia, where ain't shit to do but cook" I just knew they were talking about their interest in the culinary arts and not cooking cocaine. Besides their drug history being as fake as silicone titties or my interest to cuddle post coitus, how long will the "we are drug dealers" charade go on??

Lil Wayne: No bullshit, I feel that Lil Wayne is this era's version of Robert Johnson, a dude who sold his soul to the devil where everyone thinks that this guys is good except for me. I'll give him credit, he seems very passionate about what he does, but then again I'm very passionate about shits that I take and I doubt anyone will buy a CD of that any time soon. I guess people aren't sticklers for lyrics the way that I am, but when I've analyzed the words that come out of Lil Wayne's mouth during one of his songs I always felt that Charlie Browns teacher had more to say. Like The Clipse, people that I respect like this Gremlin with a microphone and I just don't get. People please, enlighten me.

Some inside info on yours truly..

I'm always surprised when I get emails that ask me to expose more about myself. I thought that my daily ramblings were the epitome of me exposing myself, telling people that my father's death affects me on a daily basis, and all of the embarrassing sexual encounters that leave disgruntled women saying "I thought that shit you talked about on your blog was bullshit!!" So, for all those emails that for some reason want to learn more about me, here are a few random facts..

The first record that I bought was Sugar Hill Gang's "Rapper's Delight". Yes it sounds cliche as fuck but it's the absolute truth. I was in kindergarten at the time, and because my parents always encouraged my love for music they asked me what I wanted when we were in a particular record store. I asked the person behind the counter, "Where can I find that 'chicken tastes like wood" song?

The first CD that I ever bought was King Tee's "Act a Fool"

In the "I used to be a whore" category, I once dated 5 women at the same time. Looking back I realized that maintaining such a facade was a full time fucking job, oh yeah, I'm glad my dick didn't fall off.

My gay cousin Sean is currently not speaking to me. See, when he came out of the closet I was one of the only people that supported his open agenda of anal reaming. I'm a pretty liberal guy, and I told him that who he chose to be with was his business. The problem was when we had gotten drunk and I said, "I'm accepting of gay people so don't get the wrong impression, but there is something creepy about old homosexuals and fat homosexuals. Yuck." Of course my insensitive sentiments didn't go over too well, especially since Sean is overweight and his lover is over 60.

My favorite Rapper is Rakim.(duh)

I feel that Ice Cube's "Death Certificate" is pure genius.

My favorite position is when a chick rides me, only because I'm lazy and it's the one position where I don't cum faster than express mail.

I can't watch crime shows, because I find myself rooting for the bad guy.(except for racists and pedophiles)

My favorite shows include "My Name is earl", "Inside the Actors Studio", "Countdown with Keith Olbermann", and "Grounded for Life"

I shy away from interracial relationships, not because I'm a racist, but because I know I would probably end up killing anyone who verbally opposed it.



I'm a big fan of a lover leaving my residence immediately after ejaculation.

When I played outfield as a kid I had a great arm, so good in fact that I could throw people out who tried to score on my team on a regular basis. The problem was that my batting average was like .120.

I don't have a girlfriend, not because I don't want one, but I think that me chronicling my sex life scares the shit out of any would-be girlfriends.

I respect the guy, but I feel that Tupac did more harm than good. Tupac is like the movie "Scarface" to me, not only did it inspire a million bad impressions of the lead character, but people tend to not focus on the moral of the story and concentrate on the self destruction.

Video of the Day: Slick Rick: "Hey Young World"

The Avon Lady

I don't really know what to make out of this..

Yeah, THAT can get your ass whipped.

Now that I'm getting older, and the fact that I haven't had any reason to tell my friends any heart-felt "..after I was raped in jail he made me tie my shirt in the front and speak like Marilyn Monroe" stories, I know I will reap the benefits if I calm my black ass down considerably. It's just that I feel that my days of avoiding lengthy dirt-naps and chances to get muscular while converting to Islam are coming to an end if I continue to think that violence is the only answer. As much as I tell myself that there are more civil ways to end a dispute, that I'm an adult who should carry himself with a bit of class and decorum, nothing shuts a motherfucker up faster than chopping him in the throat mid sentence. Violence just works man, I guess that's one of the things that I hate about blogging, people are allowed to talk shit about you without having their head split wide open as your witty retort.(Even though I once planned to befriend a blogger who at one time talked shit about me and schedule a "blogger meet up". I'd arrive there and as soon as he extended his hand I'd go, "Remember that post you did in Sept 05 when you referenced me motherfucker?(throwing hands up) What's up now???" Then I would proceed to bludgeon that bastard with his fucking laptop. Yes, I have played this out in my mind a few times.)

But as I get older and notice the plethora of gray hairs on my testicles, talk about rappers that younger adults never heard of, and as I'm beginning to recognize my own mortality I understand that I can't punch people for any old reason. No more jabbing innocent dudes in the face just on the strength of some disgruntled broad saying "I'm going to get my boyfriend!!", No more threatening to make people who are Lil Wayne fans "eat jabs all night", no more chopping any man in the throat who puts Tupac or Biggie above Rakim on their all time Greatest MC list. Don't get it twisted though, I won't be taking long walks with the Dali Lama while discussing Ghandi any time soon, I will always be down to put some garden variety douche-bag on the business end of a beating. The difference is that I will try my damnedest from now on to make any punch that I throw be because the person legitimately deserved it. Here are a few instances where I think beating someones ass is acceptable..

If someone disrespects your woman: Listen, I'm the last motherfucker in the world you would see defending the honor of a woman that I'm dating. Not saying that I'm against it, its just the types of females that I've dated have been of the "practice vagina" variety, so you could regularly see me ask my date "Well, what did you do?" after she claims that some guy called her a "bitch". But one area that I believe that a beat-down is in order, regardless if you are out with your wife or a prostitute you plan on covering with Jell-O later, is the "when you get back from the restroom and a guy is talking to your date" scenario. I'm civil, so if I see a guy talking to my lady-friend and she is visibly annoyed I will respectfully say, "Hey dude, this is my lady." Usually the guy will say something like "my bad", look like a pair of tits, and squirm away like the vermin that he is. But sometimes, on those special occasions, the guy will actually grow a pair and say "So what?? I'm talking to her now!!" In this instance I feel that you are in your right to not only smash a bottle over his head, brain him with the table, and kick him repeatedly as your dates joins in like Joe Pesci in "Goodfellas" and shit, even snatch his chain and piss on him for good measure.

If someone hurts your child: I'm not a parent which is probably a good thing because I feel that the mere existence of a mini HumanityCritic would provoke more beat-downs than someone stepping on your new shell-toes. I'm scared to spread my demon-seed to be totally honest, because any person who hurts my kid would be on the business end of my chubby pre-ejaculating wrath. If the football coach screams at my kid, I'd approach him while pounding my fists on some "You better watch your tone when addressing my kid" shit. If some other adult finds themselves having to discipline my kid by striking them, I would find the culprit in question, tie them to a light pole, as me and my child would lace that miserable son of a bitch with nothing but kidney punches.


If someone owes you money: Nowadays if I give someone money I tell them they don't have to pay it back, not because I'm a sucker but because I don't want to have to beat their ass publicly. I'm saying, if you lend someone some money and they have an inability to pay you back because of their deplorable financial state, then I understand that. But if you lend someone some money and they claim they can't pay you back immediately, even though that bastard just bought a new car, clothes, and he's able to pay off bar bill's close to the gross national debt, that motherfucker needs to have his ass whipped. Besides it not being the right thing to do, it seems that them not paying you even though they have a few new toys for themselves is like them saying "What??? What are you going to do about it??" So, once you realize that you will never see your money again, beat their ass as soon as humanly possible. You will feel better, plus you can go through their pockets and take whatever is in their wallet, you might get paid back after all.

If someone puts their hands on you: This is a no brainer, if you feel that you are being threatened proceed to dispatch the would be dispatchers. Just don't be like me and try to to get people to assault you so later you can be guilt free as you try to see how far an Adidas sneaker can go inside someones rectum. Shameless attempts include me saying things like, "Dude, I'm not trying to fight you. Now if you pushed me, THEN I'd fight you!", or acting like I have turrets so they will jump and throw an ill advised punch.

If someone disrespects your mother: I'm not talking about "mother jokes" either, if I got upset at every unsavory product of inbreeding who said something unkind about my mother online, I'd spend my hooker and weed money travelling around the country, strangling cowards to death with their mouse cord. I'm talking about up close and personal disrespect, so if you ever feel that the woman that pushed your miserable ass out of your body is being disrespected by some random jackass, beat their ass. Unlike the other examples, you are allowed to threaten people for all kinds of reasons when it comes to your mother. If the woman at the check-out counter gets smart with your mother threaten to drag her silly ass around the parking lot by her weave(I'd never harm a female), if some old man gives your mother a very sexually harassing remark punch his old ass before he gets to the end of said sentence, if some lady cursed your mother for some random reason just begin beating her husband or her teenage son as punishment for said offense. Man, I really love my moms..

..and a few miscellaneous reasons: Ok, if I plan to be a better citizen, can't I have a few guilty pleasure beat-downs? Can I throat-chop the plethora of bastards who want to bombard my ears with "Tupac was the best rapper ever" diatribes? Can I punch people in the chest that want to tell me that Hip Hop isn't dead, even though they have the worst examples of the art-form on their blogs and on their myspace pages? Can I backhand Kobe haters, you know the ones who want to clumsily claim that he "broke up the dynasty" and that he is the "reason Shaq left", when they ignore that Shaq is as guilty as anyone in that equation?? How about chicks that won't reciprocate oral?? No, I don't condone hurting women, I'm asking you ladies, "What's up with that?"