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

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

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"

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??

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.

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???

THANK YOU!!! THANK YOU!!! THANK YOU!!!!

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 than..well..it 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.

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.

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"..


Iselfra: (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:*chuckles*

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

TRANSCRIPT

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??

HumanityCritic: Well..

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 was..um

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)

HumanityCritic: 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(www.nappydiatribe.blogspot.com) 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??
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Paid for by the HumanityCritic "Damn, tell your momma to use less teeth next time!" Campaign of 2006

Why didn't you tell me I was like that when I was drunk??

Maybe I was a weird kid destined to have a liver the size of a hickory nut, but I can actually remember wondering what kind of drunk I would be when I became a grown up. Would I be like my grandmother, from what I hear was a very nasty drunk, even though I missed some of her classic drunken moments because I was born too late she did punch me in the face once while she drunkenly attempted to teach me how to fight when I was 6. Or would I be like my father, a dude who could be downright nasty and degrading when he was sober, but as soon as he got some liquor into his system he was the nicest motherfucker in existence. I mean, he was so generous and kind he would make Mr. Rogers look like a stark raving lunatic, emptying out his wallet and giving me and my friends loot to the point that I was probably the only kid in the world who wanted his father to be constantly drunk. But I will say, as it turned out, I'm a pretty well mannered alcoholic if I say so myself. I'm nice to people, I'm the life of the party, I'm quick witted and can talk the underwear off of anything with a pulse and a vagina, and I'm not annoying in the least. So I thought.

For the last few months I have been working out like a fucking triathlete and lowered my alcohol for the sake of losing 20 pounds. Some of you think that I did that to be healthier, because hypertension, heart attacks, because diabetes runs in my family, or even because I wanted to be smaller again so I could start fucking skinny chicks again. Wrong on all counts, I lost weight because I read in a magazine that getting rid of your gut would make your cock look bigger, so if a fucking optical allusion can make some dirty tramp think that I am packing more heat than the devil's gay lover, then so be it. But also, being sober more times than not nowadays, I have learned from some of my friends that I'm not the cool guy that I thought I was when I 'm intoxicated. I have learned something very unsettling, a sobering(pun intended) slap in the face so to speak, the behavior that I thought was the epitome of "cool" was just me acting like a baboon's ass for all the world to see. Here are some of the things, according to my friends, that I do when I'm drunk.

I tend to Freestyle: I don't know what it is, but whenever I have had my fair share of drinks I start thinking that I am KRS One or some shit. I couldn't tell you how many times I have ended a bar-room argument by slapping the table and saying "Come on, let's go outside and battle bitch!!" like I was the human embodiment of the movie "Beat Street". Even when I have been to some shit kicking country bars with my best friend Danny, I have challenged red-neck-tobacco chewing-Toby Keith fans to a spirited match of verbal jousting, even grabbing the karaoke microphone and saying "Come on Bill Ray Cirus, you won't be talking that shit once I dazzling you with a metaphor, smack you around a bit with a few similes, even assassinate your ass with an astounding amount of alliteration!!(grabbing the mic like a gun, imitating Dirty Harry) Come on, give me a reason!!!" The sad part about all this is what happened when I did find some guy that accepted my free style challenge.. As he started rapping he was ripping me to shreds, something a wanna-be wordsmith like me didn't expect, so I knew I had to come with the proper artillery. So when it was my turn, knowing that I was defeated, I did what any man would do in my situation..I sucker punched that motherfucker, standing over him and raising my hands like Rocky Balboa screaming "I win!! I win!!!"

I have a severe case of Beer-goggles: When it comes to looks I never claimed to be a matinee idol or anything, just an average looking guy who has been fortunate enough to have women above my "pay grade" let me penetrate them occasionally. I mean, my self-esteem isn't totally in the crapper, if me and Biz Markie were to stand side by side and you were forced to pick one to sleep with I like my motherfucking chances, but I don't think I turn heads so to speak. But when I have had a few drinks in me I am what you call an equal opportunity employer when it comes to the chicks that I will try to get with. It's to the point that my boys will call me "Shallow Hal", because regardless if your are blind, cripple, or crazy, HumanityCritic will let you be a part of his illustrious "stable" if he is under the influence. You know, I'm not particularly mean to people if it's not provoked, but when a woman that I tried to get with when I was drunk tapped me on the shoulder and asked me "Why didn't you ever call me?", when I turned around and saw her face I uncharacteristically coiled back and screamed "Jesus fucking Christ!!!".

I Attempt to B-Boy: When I was a kid I loved to get my dance on, dazzling the white boys in my catholic school with my popping skills, my locking abilities, and superior groundwork that would make that Kelly chick from "Breakin'" turn me into a man while Chaka Khan's "Ain't nobody" plays in the background. Lets just say that I got a bitter dose of reality when I went to visit my cousins in Queens and got served up by real B-Boys, who knew years before I did that that "Breakin'" movie was unadulterated bullshit, laughing at my "signature" break-dancing move that I busted upon them. What move you ask? Ok, I would do a pop move, bring it down, raise up my shirt and roll my stomach, bring it down to my legs and then bring it back up again. I thought it was dope, but I quickly realized two things. 1)That I was a terrible dancer and 2)That the white kids in my catholic school were an extremely easy crowd.

Anyway, when I'm drunk I suddenly think that I am an official member of the Rocksteady crew, exuding a confidence only exhibited by Michael Jordan or the criminally insane. Imagine this, a chubby bastard trying to look graceful but actually looking like he is having a seizure, attempting back-flips and other such ariel maneuvers that a man of my girth shouldn't even attempt without wearing football gear, a mat to land on, and a professional spotter. I couldn't tell you how many times I have been awoken to a friend's phone call saying, "Hey, if you are sore this morning it's because you tried a backflip off of the stage and landed on your head. It was cool for a moment, because for a split second you when your dreads were scattered across the floor you looked like a black mop." Oh, and yes you guessed it, I always incorporate my "signature" move in all my drunken B-Boy sessions.


I talk women's panties back on: If I had a dime for every time I heard a chick say, "You know the other night I was going to fuck your brains out but you fucked it up!!!" I would be Donald Trump rich, ok, Donald Faison rich. Being that I just knew that my pick-up lines had sniper-like accuracy, and the fact that I would usually black the fuck out after a heavy night of drinking, I had no idea what the fuck these women were talking about when they would say such things. That was until a few things came back to me like a George Bush Vietnam flashback, you know the ones where he avoided going to war and spent most of his time sniffing blow off of some chicks leg, I realized that my drunken behavior prohibits me from counting the pimples on the booty of someone that I planned to sexually frustrate. Like the time a chick had agreed to go back to my house and I said: "You know, let's just go outside and fuck in the backseat of my car. It's warm in there, I have chips you can snack on, and we can just cut through all the awkwardness of me shoving you the fuck out of my door at 4 A.M. What do you say sugar-tits??" Or the time when this hot little number was whispering what she would do to me in my ear later on that night, getting me harder than Chinese math and shit, I thought I would whisper sweet nothings in her ear as well. I leaned over and whispered in her ear: "Ohh baby, you know what I'm going to do to you when I get home?? I'm going to let you go down on me and I won't reciprocate. I'm going to gyrate on you like a toddler having a seizure, then clumsily ejaculate around 2 minutes later. Baby, you are going to want me to finish but I will fall fast asleep as you lay wide awake wondering if you felt anything at all. On top of that I will never call you, I will ignore you if I ever see you in public after that, and if you try to confront me on it I will act like you are a complete stranger. So how about it, your place or mine??"

Video of the Day: A Tribe Called Quest: "Bonita Applebum"

As corny as this is going to sound, sometimes I feel that my life is a motion picture and the various Hip Hop tunes that I play ad nauseum are just the accompanying soundtrack. Whenever I am about to beat some bastard into oblivion, I can hear some ultra aggressive M.O.P tune deep in the recesses of my brain. Whenever I am in the middle of some heated political discussion where I am verbally decapitating some ass-hat republican, "Welcome to the Terrordome" by Public Enemy is the musicthat is playing. But whenever I see some woman that I am fond of, flashing her beautiful smile in my direction, her and I exchanging glances as I try to nonchalantly check out how phat her ass is, "Bonita Applebum" is the song playing in my head when all of this is going on. If I decide to approach said female, and months later we are in relationship bliss, taking romantic walks in the park only stopping to have a picnic where her and I steal kisses between bites of food, "Bonita Applebum" is still the song that plays in the background. Surprisingly, this song is noticeably absent when the woman in question is breaking up with me because I fucked her sister on the bed we share. Oh well..

For the tech Nerds(like myself): The Sony Mylo

Things that I have done to make a woman break up with me..

(I'm certain that this post will drop my female readership by at least 50%, but here goes) Besides an occasional throat-chop here and there to your garden variety Uncle Tom black republican, or a random profanity laced tirade in the direction of a member of the clergy, I have matured leaps and bounds since those carefree days of my early 20's. For one thing I don't pay for sex anymore which is a good thing, but the downside to that are all the lonely Saturday nights and I miss going to the clinic each week feeling like "Norm" from "Cheers" and shit.(Patients and nurses at the STD Clinic: "HUMANITYCRITIC!!!") I also don't fuck midgets anymore, not saying that normal sized men can't have relations with vertically challenged women, it's just that I now see that making them wear orange wigs and sing the "Umpa-Lumpa" song while having sex can be a tad bit demeaning. But the one area of my life that I'm glad that I have matured is in my ability to be honest with a woman, and break it off like a man if things aren't particularly going as planned.

It sounds silly, I guess cowardice would be a more accurate description, but for the longest time I had a problem breaking up with women because I didn't want to be the "bad guy".(Which is pretty ironic because I usually was the bad guy, you know, fucking the sisters, college room mates, even aunts of woman that I called my "girlfriend" at the time.) Yes, I was a steaming pile of excrement, but worse than my philandering ways were the elaborate schemes I would concoct for a chick to break up with me just so I could escape the relationship guilt free. Looking back I see that I could have just saved a lot of time and energy if I was just honest with those women, told them that I wasn't happy and gave them their walking papers. But don't worry ladies, the 2006 version of HumanityCritic is nothing like he was back in his early 20's. I stand before you, actually sit before you typing this on a computer so full of porn that Larry fucking Flint would shake his head in disapproval, as a grown man that is willing to break it off with a woman in an honest and orderly fashion.(Granted, I usually do it right after sex, but that's semantics if you ask me.) I'm not proud of this, but here are a few schemes that I came up with so women would break up with me.

HumanityCritic the Bed-wetter: One of the ways I got a girl to break up with me was to make her believe that I was a bed wetter. I didn't actually urinate in the bed, but I made sure to pour a cold glass of water around our sleeping area as liberally as possible. The first time I did it I almost woke her up based on my loud school-girl giggles, just imagining her disgust when she rose in the morning to find herself in what she believed to be HumanityCritic's urine. Let me tell you, it worked like gangbusters, being awakened to her hitting me on the back screaming "Motherfucker, you pissed the bed!!!! YOU PISSED THE MOTHERFUCKING BED!!!!!" I should have won a fucking Oscar that morning as I acted all innocent, saying "Baby, it was an accident.. Why are you being like this?? Hey, how are you going t let a little urine get between us??" I still remember her slamming her sheets into her washing, muttering the words "How you gonna piss my bed, dirty son of a bitch!!" under her breath. Granted, we stayed together a few weeks after that, but after a few "pissy" sheets later I could see in her eyes that the novelty of Humanity F Critic had worn off significantly, I guess being doused with what you believe to be piss can do that to a girl. The downside to that is her telling anyone that would listen that I was a bed-wetter, which meant that no woman in the entire state of Virginia would come within a square mile of me, let alone touch my dick. Those few that would let me see them naked ordered me out of their house before sunrise.

I knocked out a woman's father: Some years ago I dated a woman who's father was a professional boxer at one time, around the depresion as far as I know. A decent enough older fellow, but every time I would see him he would get in my face on some "I bet I can beat your young ass!!" shit. For a guy like myself who thinks that anyone is eligible for an ass-whipping, I kept my cool and laughed off the old fucks challenge because I didn't want to endanger the relationship that I had with his daughter. I swear, this old man was a one trick pony, because every time I saw him he would challenge me to a fight and test my man-hood, and every time I would laugh him off and walk away. That was until my then girlfriend started becoming a bona fide psycho, accusing me of cheating, getting women's phone numbers, being on the business end of a mouth hug, all things I was indeed guilty of but she had no way of knowing that!! Since she was making me as uncomfortable as Lil Kim in a nun's uniform, I had to get out of that relationship as soon as possible, and that opportunity presented itself when her father challenged me to a fight for the last time at one of her family gatherings. He came up to me, put his hands up and said, "HumanityCritic, I bet I could still kick your ass..." *Pow* Before he could even finish his geriactric sentence I laced him with an uppercut which caused his false teeth to go flying and him to fall out in the fetal position. While he was down, only because it was a reflex and not because he was an old man, I kicked him in the stomach for good measure. Everyone came to his aid, his wife and my then girlfriend were screaming at me "What did you do??!!", some of his teenage nephews attempted to defend his honor but then thought otherwise after I tapped them with a few well placed jabs, the whole fucking family reunion was in utter chaos.

Suffice it to say she broke up with me right there, all I remember is me walking off saying "You think I give a fuck if he is 65 or not??!!"


Made her wonder if I was gay or not: This one girlfriend, because of the fact that she was a soulless harlot that I'm certain came from the depths of hell, I made believe that there was a possibility that I was gay. I know, I should have just told her the truth and dropped her ass like a one armed wide receiver, but the premise of what I was about to do was just too funny and I'm a fan of keeping myself entertained. The first thing I did was state in a perfectly clear fashion as many times as possible to say that "homosexuals shouldn't be discriminated against" and that "homophobia has to stop", sentiments that I believe by the way but I said it so many times that even a gay person would raise his eyebrows based on my overly passionate stance concerning gay rights. Before sex I would act like I was joking and say, "Hey, wouldn't it be interesting if you put this fake mustache on and I called you "Gary"??" I guess the last straw was after a night of passion, me thrusting like a retarded rabbit, and me yelling out my imaginary jail number mid-climax: "Oh Shit.. Inmate:223XRGY678!!" Yeah, me and her weren't together much longer than that, and again women wouldn't come within miles of me for a while after that.

Video of the Day: Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince: "Brand New Funk"

I never thought that I would damn near get into an all out brawl over any cast member of "The Wild Wild West", but it almost happened a few weeks ago. I was in some trendy ass bar downtown, minding my business damaging my liver and flirting with the bartender with breasts that could feed all the children in a third world country, when I heard a few younger cats talk about their favorite Hip Hop artists. I was surprised at how I behaved myself, I mean, I actually didn't openly object when they waxed poetically about their love for the "Dipset", "Yung Joc", that gorilla looking "T-Pain" character, and other inferior groups of that ilk. I didn't say anything, I just kept my eyes fixed on this bartenders tits like it was a teleprompter and I was Tom Brokaw. That was until I heard one of those young cats start talking about Will Smith and how "soft" his music was. That's when I got up, stood in the middle of those 4 gentleman and said, "The next person who talks shit about Will Smith, I swear, I'm going to break their fucking jaw!" One of them said, "Yeah, but there is four of us and one of you!!", in which I responded "I can add motherfucker, but you have to decide if you want to be the one that's sipping his meals through a fucking straw for the next couple of months!!"

One of the guys said, "Why do you care about Will Smith so much?" I said, "I don't, but you guys were just going on and on about acts that suck complete cock. I mean, come on, the more and more you jackasses go on and on about acts that I personally feel scrape the bottom of the artistic barrel, the more and more I appreciate Will Smith as REAL Hip Hop!!!" Nothing happened, but as I left I told the guys "You inbred sons of bitches have to check out Will Smith's "Brand New Funk", similar to the way a church lady would tell someone that they "Need Jesus".

Hey HumanityCritic, what in the fuck are you doing with this in your ipod? Culture Club: "Do you really want to hurt me"

Since I openly admitted in an earlier post that I made a lover think I was gay so she would break up with me, I felt that this was a very fitting segue. I know, I know, this particular selection might seem like a curious one based on an IPOD with the likes of Run DM.C, M.O.P, Rakim, and Otis Redding in it, but I like "The Culture Club" to be perfectly honest. I guess being a kid who watched Mtv in it's infancy when the only black acts they played were Prince and Michael Jackson, this is probably one of those groups that I was forced to be exposed to, an exposure that I don't particularly mind because of my broad musical tastes currently. Plus, I have Boy George to thank on a couple of occasions when I needed something snazzy to say to a girl when I did have the balls to break up with her.

On more than one occasion, when a girl in question didn't want to break up because of the length of time we had been together, I would always say: "Girl, I quote Boy George when he said "Time won't give me time/ And time makes lovers feel/ Like they've got something real" Girl, You think Boy George would bullshit you!!??" A couple of years ago Boy George was in town to do a show, score some blow, something, and I saw him walking down the boardwalk of my local beach. I wasn't sure if it was him, the make-up was gone, he gained some weight, was bald, and he looked like a New York cab driver for christs sake. Regardless, with my girlfriend at the time in tow, I sang "Do you really want to hurt me, do you really want to make me cry" right beside him. Then on cue, making my girlfriend laugh hysterically he said sarcastically "Now that's gay!!!" He's so lucky that I'm a fan..

These are the kind of debates I like..

Did I ever tell you how I was kicked off of my college debate team? Actually, not saying that I was a glass licking retard or anything, but I had no business being on any debate team at the time. I mean, if you needed a guy to debate the importance of John Hughes movies, Hip Hop, or the finer art of pre-ejaculation, then I could debate with the best of them. Besides that, my utter lack of knowledge and a world view that extended a little past the Carolina's should have kept me off of any debate team. But I guess the debate coach loved my passion, my quick wit, and the belief that I still hold, similar to the character of Nick Taylor in the movie "Thank you for smoking" that "if you argue correctly, you're never wrong." The one problem that I had almost immediately was my temper during debates, if someone argued a great point I wouldn't get upset, but if someone gave me as much as a subtle dis the debate would usually end with me saying "Who in the fuck do you think you are talking to??" A few profanity laced tirades and me jumping over a table during one debate a punching a nerd in the face after he questioned my intelligence later, I found myself off the debate team. I'm glad that they put my debate career out of its misery, because I could have ended up like that chubby bastard in the video, throwing chairs and whatnot.(Even though, I am a chubby bastard who throws throat-chops.. I guess those in glass houses..)

What comes to mind when I hear these songs..

One of the worst things about me, besides having an undersized penis that would make a white woman point and scream "My parents aren't speaking to me because of that!!" if I ever dated inter-racially, is my extremely poor memory. I don't know if it is the years smoking some of the finest street horticulture my area had to offer, or the fact that my mother drank cheap wine when she was pregnant with me, but if there was an award entitled "The motherfucker most likely to forget your name" I would win that coveted prize every year I was nominated. In an age where there should be compassion for individuals with handicaps, people aren't too sympathetic when it comes to my specific problem. I mean, just because I have forgotten loved ones birthdays, the ring that I was supposed to hold on to when I was the best man at a friends wedding, and the names of lovers mid and post coitus, suddenly I am the bad guy??(Try calling a woman another name while in the missionary position..)

The only thing that helps me when it comes to recalling people, places, or events, is simply, music. I couldn't tell you how many times I have uttered the phrases, "I can tell you when she broke up with me because that is when "Midnight Marauders came out.", "I fucked my first Spanish broad in 1988, because I remember pre-ejaculating to Doug E Fresh's "The World's Greatest Entertainer", or "I had in-house ass in 1990 when my parents let some chick stay with my family for a year. I'm certain about that, you never forget getting blown to Dee Lite's "Groove is in the Heart"!!" That's how I suppose you all feel as well, as soon as you hear a specific piece of music it takes you back to a time and place so vividly you feel like Scott Bakula on some "Quantum Leap" shit. Here is what I think about when I hear the following songs.

Jagged Edge: Song: "Where the party at": It was the summer of 2001, my father had just died a few months earlier, my mother was just diagnosed with cancer, and I had just received the proverbial pink slip form a woman that I was dating for the last 5 years. In an emotional spiral, I was chin-checking(West coast term for fighting) fools on a nightly basis in a drunken stooper, I was smoking so much weed that Cheech and Chong themselves would plan an intervention for me, and I was fucking so many dirty whores in an attempt to forget about my heartbreak I was certain that Sally Struthers would do a heartfelt commercial to get Americans to donate some money to save my penis. You know how it is when you are on the business end of a breakup, as you suffer in silence with happy thoughts of driving your car off of a fucking cliff, all you can imagine is your ex having the best sex of her life now that she is done with a chubby scribe who happened to hum the "Smurfs" theme song while he ejaculated. The song "Where the Party at?" just seemed to epitomize all the fun I imagined she was having now that I was out of the picture, her new boyfriend discovering new territory that I didn't have the phallic size to find myself, her and her girlfriends sitting beside a pool somewhere having "Fuck HumanityCritic" parties as my ex tells lovely stories like the time I pissed the bed once, invoking a chorus of laughter from her heartless friends.. Anyway, hearing this song was the worst form of punishment.

A Tribe called Quest: Song: "Scenario": The last few weeks of my father's life, when the cancer was rapidly taking his life, I took the selfish approach of not seeing him as often as I should have. I know it's wrong, and I probably missed the opportunity to possibly have some heart to heart talks that would have stayed with me for the rest of my life, but based on our shaky past I wanted to avoid any death bed "You ain't shit" speeches at all cost. But luckily for me, when I decided to see him and take that final step to make peace with my father, the old guy decides to die right in front of me. It's weird, even though he was knocked out for the better part of the day and had at least 20 visitors prior to my arrival, I always felt that he waited for me to get there to leave this earth. The memories are etched on my cerebellum like a bad tattoo of an ex lover's name, me and my mother standing beside my father as his temperature began to rise rapidly. The nurses rushing in, pouring buckets of ice on my father's then withered body as I hold my mother in my arms, only moments later I hear that sound that any garden variety idiot who ever watched a Hospital drama knows..Flat-line.. As the nursed left and I consoled my mother in the next room for a few minutes, only to go back into my father's hospital room, clutching his face and sobbingly whispering in his ear "I'm sorry for being such a horrible son..I'll see you on the other side old man" ,soon after heading to my car.

It was pouring down raining as I ran to my vehicle, my legs feeling like they were about to give out with every step. As I got to my car and struggled with my keys for a moment, I hopped in and when I turned on the radio A Tribe Called Quest's song "Scenario" was on. Driving fast for no reason, navigating through the elements and bad Virginia drivers, I remember rapping along with the song that I had loved since the first time I heard it. I'm talking about hand motions and everything, rapping the words verbatim, only to sobbingly say "I fucking love this song!!" during the chorus. Weirdly enough, after the song was over I remember going to some random gas station and buying some beer. I recall politely listening to the cashier who was gushing over the fact that her daughter had recently graduated from college. I stood there for minutes as she went on and on, but I'll tell you what, boring ass conversation never felt so soothing.

Even though I think about a negative experience when I hear that classic tune, I still love that song to death.

Gangstarr: Song: "Just to get a rep": In another life, more than a decade and change ago, I was, *gulp*, a rapper. I had dreams of grabbing the microphone in front of thousands of people, putting out scathing diss records about any miserable wanna-be wordsmith that even mentioned my name in passing, and having a bevvy of slutty admirers who I could clumsily penetrate whenever the fuck I wanted to. A boy had dreams, and to make these dreams become a reality I would go to New York a few times a year to record demos and "Network". I had been to the Big Apple a few times before, and being a cocky kid from the mecca of street life that is Virginia Beach Virginia I felt that N.Y wasn't that big of a deal. Plus if someone tried to come in my face with that bullshit I would show that bastard that just because the word "Beach" is in the city that I am from, I shouldn't be slept on by any means. Well, you know what happens to people who get too big for their britches?? They get robbed!!! That's right, I was somewhere in Brooklyn probably smelling like fresh meat, possibly coming off like Jethro from "The Beverlyhillbillys" and shit, so some young cat decided to rob me of my all my shit.

He came out of nowhere, stuck a gun in my face and said "Run it yo!!" Even though I had heard that term in songs many times before, having a gun 6 inches from your face tends to make you forget current slang, so I really sounded like I was from Virginia Beach when I said "Run what? You want me to run somewhere??" He gripped the gun tighter and said, "Give me all your shit or I will shoot you dead motherfucker!!" As someone who had encountered men with guns before, even foolishly punching a gentleman who pulled a gun out on me at a party years earlier, I looked this dude in the eyes and I could tell that he meant business. Plus, we were kind of in an alley where we weren't completely visible, so shooting me in the cabbage and getting away with it seemed pretty do-able. But still, because I'm an idiot who has a death wish I said, "Man, I bet you a million dollars that without that gun you are a pair of fucking panties!!" All that macho shit went out the window when he shot the gun right beside my ear, *POW*, so after that aggressive statement of sorts I slowly started emptying the contents of my Cross Colors jeans. When I'm nervous I belt out rap tunes, so as I handed him all of my food money I had brought for my New York trip, I uttered the chorus from Gangstarr's "Just to get a Rep:": "Stick up kids is out to get tax!!!..Stick up kids is out to get tax!!" After he was satisfied with what I gave him and put his gun down he said, "Gangstarr right? I fucking love those guys!" and began to run off. That's when I said, "Hey, since we have similar tastes in music how about giving me some of my money back!! A brother has to eat!!" That's when he turned his head mid-jog and said, "You know, I can still shoot you!!"

Dee Lite Song: "Groove is in the heart": Ladies and Gentlemen, when I was 17 years old I had "in-house" like a motherfucker. My parents had befriended this woman from Nova Scotia so she stayed with us for an entire year, a caramel complected temptress named Sherry who is the sole reason that I get a chubby for any woman from Canada or near Canada. Sherry was 29, so I just knew that I wasn't going to get anywhere with her, so my "Hey baby, my dick will touch your small intestines!" lines were just lip service to a woman who I felt only wanted men her own age. So I thought, because one late night I found myself thrusting on top of a woman 12 years my senior like a drugged up test bunny as my dear parents were upstairs fast asleep, unaware that their baby was getting violated in the best ways possible. I love my folks but man were they clueless, her sneaking in my room late night, me muffling her screams as I gave her the "Gyrating beef machine" on top of my He-Man bedsheets, it was so blatant that I knew that we would get caught and my mother would beat her AND me.

She had this thing where she would come in my room in the morning after my parents went to work and give me a "mouth hug" to the Dee Lite song "Groove is in the Heart". Maybe because I was just a kid, or possibly its a testament to her oral skill, but I have to be honest with you and say that I would climax before Q-Tip started rapping. Yeah, whenever I hear this song I reminisce of how a 29 year old woman took advantage of an insecure 17 year old boy, treating his body like her own amusement park at her leisure, doing things to him that would probably scar him for life.. By the way, I wouldn't trade any of that shit for the world.

This week's episode of "HumanityCritic's Asshole Moments"

Despite the words that escape our lips or even appear on our blogs, it is my opinion that people, as a whole, want to be genuinely liked. I mean, as many times as we say that we don't care what people think, you still would like to be a person that people don't mind being around. Listen, I am at peace with people hating me because I chopped them in the throat and snatched the chain off their necks because they talked shit to me, or the many people who hate on this blog because they are either testicle-less cowards or are women who have that stench of death between their legs, so be it. But at the end of the day we all want people to like us, want our opinions to be valued, want people to cherish the friendships that they have with us. Shit, I don't want people at my funeral saying glowing things about me, only for the people in attendance who really knew me to giggle like school girls at the lies being told. Because of this I have made an honest effort to be less of an insufferable prick, but it seems that I can't stop pissing people off. I don't do it on purpose, my mother calls in diarrhea of the mouth because shit flies out of my mouth with reckless abandon, but I seem to rub people the wrong way like a dislexic massage therapist. Last week was a definite setback on my road to political correctness, here are a few examples.

"Mo'nique": People can be scary when it comes how much they like a celebrity, I found this out the hard way last week when I was at a friend's barbecue. I was having a decent conversation with some woman about movies and T.V, we had a lot in common when it came to our personal tastes that I just knew I would one day tell a "..and then she took off her Lane Bryants.." story to tell my friends some time in the future. That was until she went on and on about how she wanted to see some movie entitled "Shadowboxer" where Mo'nique plays a crackhead. My eyes opened wide and I said to the woman, "Mo'Nique plays a crackhead??!! What is she smoking, turkeys??!!" The look on her face after I said that could have cut me in half, soon after she grabbed her plate of food and stormed off while uttering "Bitch ass motherfucker!!" to herself. Hell, I didn't know a Mo'nique fan of that magnitude even existed, Oh well.

My friends pornstar girlfriend: My friend Andre, a dude who I have written about before, has been dating a well known black porn star for over a year now. Sure it was weird at first, being around a woman who I have mercilessly "jerked it" to a million times before, but I really got used to her and I find her to be an amazing person. Let me be honest, she is cool, but I only hang with her because when she's drunk she shows me her tits.(I love boobies!!!) Anyway, recently her, Andre, and myself had went to this trendy restaurant to get something to eat. I forgot what she ordered but it had banana's on it, which made her frown up and say "Ewww, I hate banana's!! I can't stand the taste one bit.." I wasn't trying to piss her or Andre off, which I ended up doing anyways, but I didn't think I was being offensive when I said: "Wait a minute, I once saw a flick where you let three guys splooge in your mouth while you spent the next few moments playing with it, even digesting it when it was all said and done. Not for nothing, but you are the last person in the world I figured for a "picky eater"!" Lets just say the rest of the night was surprisingly quiet after that.

Just a friendly game of Softball: Last week I was in a softball game for my local team that I've played for off and on over past couple of years. The game was going fine in my eyes, I hadn't pissed anyone off or done anything offensive, so as I stepped up to bat in the 9th inning I did so feeling that I had turned a leaf so to speak. I waited for the first pitch, it was too high, waited for the second pitch, it was too low, the third pitch was perfect so I decided to put all my energy behind my swing and see what happened. As soon as I connected with the ball I knew it was a home run, so I stood there for at least 5 seconds in my best Barry Bonds pose and watched it sail over the fence. I slowly jogged the bases, pumping my fists, spinning, pointing at the other team like I had their number, even jumping on home plate to make my point even that much clearer. When I got to the dugout my teammates looked at me in disbelief, because at that time we were now down 16 to 1.

Angry Lesbian: I saw this girl named Jenny that I went to High School with last week at a club that I frequent. She immediately informed me that she was a lesbian now, a fact that I already knew, because she had been shunned by some people because of it and wanted to tell me up front. I assured her that I didn't give a fuck, that I'm tolerant of other people, and that I'm nothing like those knuckle-dragging son's of bitches that we went to High School with. We had a delightful conversation discussing old times, that is when I noticed a young woman circling us like she was a fucking shark and we were her prey. As I was about to say something to this broad Jenny touches me on the arm and says, "Don't mind her, that's my girlfriend Carla and she is a bit of the jealous type.." I nodded and we continued taking for a while, that is when Carla, a woman who had a striking resemblance to that singer of the 1980's Alexander O'Neal, came up on me and said "Don't get any idea's motherfucker, that's my girl and she isn't interested in men anymore. Got that!!??" I should have let it go, just grinned and ignored what she had said, but I couldn't since I'm Humanity F Critic. I turned to Carla and said: "The only reason that Jenny is a lesbian in the first place is because she has had so many men run up in her that she is desensitized by dick!!! Man, you know a girl is "out there" when you know 30 guys personally that she has slept with. She loved the cock, craved it, hell, if she was running for president back then she would be running on a "Pro-Cock" platform. So yeah, I would be insecure like a motherfucker if I was you as well!! You got that!" I turned to Jenny and she had a look of horror on her face, lets just say our nice conversation was abruptly cut short.

Video of the Day: Black Sheep: "Strobelight Honey"

Probably one of the most popular songs about "beer goggles", I always loved this song because of the unadulterated truth of it. Have you ever been in a club and you were fixated on some hot temptress across the room, the entire night the both of you exchange flirtatious glances that you know is going to lead to her counting ceiling tile later, only to be disappointed later when the lights come on and you find out that the woman in question looks like a baboons ass. Ladies, I'm pretty sure you have encountered the same thing, upset that the guy you thought was handsome actually looks like Biz Markie when the ugly lights come on. Everyone can relate. But since I'm in a slump currently, and haven't had a steady stream of ass since the end of the Clinton administration, beggars can't be choosers right about now, no matter how she looks in a better light.

Yet another sign of the apocalypse..People using Youtube videos as diss records..

Right when I thought that I had too much time on my hands, writing in this silly blog that a plethora of people hate on like it's their fucking birthright, downloading excessive amounts of porn and masturbating to said filth like my testicles have an expiration date on them, there is always some bastard that assures you that your life is worth living and that you aren't a total waste of semen. Whenever you feel down, question your existence in this world, or feel like a complete steaming pile of Elephant shit, just go over to youtube and feel better about yourself based on the countless douche-bags making video's nowadays. This particular video is of a gentleman named "LazyDork"(fitting name) as he battle raps some chick with the amazingly original handle of "Lonelygirl" Not exactly LL Cool J vs. Kool Moe Dee, hell, it isn't even MC Hammer vs. A Tribe called Quest, but you will feel better about your station in life after watching it.

The Mis-Adventures of a Latchkey Kid

When I was coming up, primarily during my catholic school "Damn Sister Mary has a phat ass!" days, I was what you call a latch-key kid. My parents both worked demanding jobs and my siblings are both 10 and 11 years older than me respectfully, so when I got home from school I had three things waiting for me: 1)An empty house 2)A couple of T.V dinners, and 3)Shitloads of free time at my disposal.. Looking back I value all those hours spent alone because during that time I would write stories in my little notebook, something that could have been the spark that lit the flame that is the burning bag of shit that is this blog. I also valued that time because it gave an innocent young boy time to sift through my old man's closet, finding a few of his video tapes, and watching what I thought at the time to be pure street grade pornography.(Now that I'm older I understand that those porn tapes were the worst ever. Black chicks that looked like they just had given birth, the videos were always poorly lit, and the male stars in these tapes were always dudes who had their hair processed like they were the president of James Brown's fan club, looking like they had spent the better part of their day frying chicken somewhere. Sorry.)

But I really valued that time alone because I had the best babysitter a guy could ever have, the television. I would sit there for hours, watching reruns of shows that frankly I am embarrassed to even recall on this miserable blog. "The Andy Griffith Show", "I Leave it to Beaver", "I Love Lucy", "Hazel", "The Monkey's", if there was a rerun that never had a black person with a speaking part on it I was watching it. I was so enthralled in these shows, so into the story lines and the characters, I would imagine that I was involved in the show, day dreaming that I was interacting with the cast as if you could have found Humanity F Critic in the closing credits. I was young and innocent, so my daydreams was pretty tame to say the least. But I got to thinking, what if I took a page from my adolescence and inserted myself into television shows the way I used to?? I mean, forget about the innocent pre-teen, how about the 32 year old chubby pre-ejaculator who is trying to repeat as a blackweblogaward winner.(smile) Here's what my "daydreams" would look like today.

The A-Team:(This rag-tag bunch of ex-military commando's find themselves in an abandoned wherehouse, in a fierce gun battle with some local thugs not too happy that the A-Team is trying to put them out of business, for good. Each member of the team is shooting back, Hannibal, Faceman, Murdock, HumanityCritic, and B.A is.. well.. hiding)

HumanityCritic:(Ducking behind a crate, randomly shooting back): B.A, grow some testicles for once and get your non-acting ass out here. We need your help!!

B.A:(Pissing himself in a corner)No, I don't wanna, I'm scared!!

HumanityCritic: What!!(Raising momentarily to Shoot back)

Murdock:(In his Elvis voice) He said he's scared HumanityCritic.."Love me tender, love me true..."

HumanityCritic: I heard him you crazy fuck!!(Yelling at B.A) Hey, I thought B.A stood for "Bad Attitude", what gives??

B.A:(taking the thumb out of his mouth) That's a common misconception, B.A stands for "Bitch Ass"

Faceman: (ducking gunfire behind a crate, holding his head)Fellas, we don't have time for this now!!

Hannibal: That's right gentleman, just be patient and my plan will work itself out quite nicely.

HumanityCritic: What plan?? We are Vietnam fucking vets, being shot at by young men who probably listen to crunk music and couldn't complete a coherent sentence if you held a thesaurus to their collective heads.(shooting back at the bad guys, looking at his gun with a puzzled look on his face) My shooting is off, fuck, why can't I hit anybody today?

Hannibal:(Chuckles)

Faceman:(Chuckles)

B.A(emerging from a puddle of piss, chuckling)

HumanityCritic:(looking around) What in the fuck is so funny?

Hannibal:(shaking his head) Don't you watch the show?? We partake in a drawn out gun battle with the bad guys, thousands of rounds are spent with no one being shot, then the writers add some well placed explosions with us being victorious in the course of a half hour, then I say "I love it when a plan comes together!!" Closing fucking credits!

HumanityCritic: Fuck this!!(He empties his gun, reaches into the chewbacca-style belt with real bullets in it, and begins to re-load his gun)

Hannibal: What are you doing?? Your not going to..

HumanityCritic:(HC rises from his hidden state and begins to pick off neighborhood fucks one by one.) Take that motherfucker!!(as he shoots one) "Riverside motherfucker", that's a "Juice" reference!!(as he shoots another). "Buck-Buck-Buck take that with you on your way down!!", that's a Kool G Rap reference!!(as he blasts one more)

(The only thing left is the heavy gunsmoke in the air, gold chains and platinum teeth everywhere from the douche-bags HC shot, the smell of death and B.A's urine in the air, and HumanityCritic standing in the midst of all this with a shit eating grin on his face)

B.A:(getting up and hugging HC)

HumanityCritic:(pushing him off) Get the fuck off me, "Bitch Ass"

Hannibal:(About to put a cigar in his mouth) You know, I love it when a plan..

HumanityCritic:(pointing the gun at Hannibal) Finish that sentence and see what happens!

The Monkeys:(The scene starts off with Davey, Michael, Mickey, Peter, and HumanityCritic smoking some of the finest marijuana out of a hookah in a funkadelic room, surrounded by a bevvy of 1960's premo ass surrounding them)

HumanityCritic:(Exhaling a giant cloud of smoke, turning and looking at all the blog readers out there) You really think I'm going to write something witty with all this weed here, and all this fine 1960's "pre-aids, 'free-love like a motherfucker" ass surrounding me??(shooing y'all away) Go to the next show for Christs sake!! I'm about to kick these boy band fucks out of here so I can get my hump on..

"Leave it to Beaver"(We start off this episode with HumanityCritic, Wally's friend, knocking on the Cleaver's door one beautiful spring afternoon)

HumanityCritic:(Knocking on door)

Mr Cleaver:(opening door) HumanityCritic!! How are you doing today??

HumanityCritic: I'm doing fine sir, is Wally here??

Mr Cleaver: Sure, but give me some "dap" first, we're homeys right??(Attempts to give HC some awkward 'soul shake')

HumanityCritic:(pushes away his hand) Never do that again!!

Mr Cleaver: Take it easy home-slice, I'll get Wally.(Yells upstairs) Wally, HumanityCritic is here for you!!

Wally: (walking downstairs)Hey HC, did you come by so we could study for that History test we have tomorrow?

HumanityCritic:(smirking) Um, yeah, uh, History test!

Mr. Cleaver: Well you boys study, I have to go grocery shopping.

(The next scene HC and Wally are sitting in Wally's bedroom, with some books in front of them)

Wally: Ok HC, Mr. Smith said that our history test would be on chapters 6-9.

HumanityCritic: Wally, I could give a slippery fuck about some god-damned history test!!

Wally: Watch the language Mister!

HumanityCritic: Whatever.. Wally, what is up with that fine ass momma you got??

Wally: I don't understand.

HumanityCritic: You know, what's up with that?? What going on with her??(rubbing hands together)

Wally: Man negroes are weird, do you mean how she's doing?? Go downstairs and ask her, she's cooking and would be happy to chat with you.

HumanityCritic:(Shakes head based on Wally not knowing that he wanted to "wax" his moms ass like "Rain-dance", Ice Cube reference. He makes his way into the kitchen) Mrs. Cleaver, did I ever tell you how stunning you look with that apron on??

Mrs. Cleaver: Oh stop it, you are making me blush.

HumanityCritic: I'd like to make something else red as well.]

Mrs. Cleaver: What?

HumanityCritic: Nothing. Mrs. Cleaver, do you like me?

Mrs. Cleaver: Of course I do, as Negroes go..

HumanityCritic:(whispers to self) Oh shit..

Mrs. Cleaver: I mean, you are well mannered, and you speak so well for a colored boy, all the girls on my bridge club don't even believe that you exist!!

HumanityCritic:(sighs) Anyway, I know that Mr. Cleaver ain't hitting that right..

Mrs. Cleaver: My husband has never laid a hand on me, wait, he did smack me for saying that I'd love to suck Nat King Cole's cock, but besides that no violence.

HumanityCritic: No,(embracing Mrs Cleaver from behind while thrusting pelvis), I know he doesn't "hit" that shit right..

Mrs. Cleaver:(rolls eyes in utter lust) Ohhh HumanityCritic!!

(The next scene has Mr. Cleaver, Wally, and Theodore standing in the doorway watching HumanityCritic fill Mrs Cleaver out like an application while she's bent over some unbaked pastries)

HumanityCritic:(tapping ass) Who's a negro now??(thrust, thrust, smack on the ass) So I'm, articulate huh? How's this dick talking to you??(smack, thrust) This is for all those years you never had a black character on your show!(pound, pound)

Mr. Cleaver: Take your negro-cock out of my wife this instant!!

Wally: Ok, now I understand what you meant when you said that you wanted to "Break some Jim Crow laws with your moms".. I'm so stupid.

Theodore: I knew the black man myth was bullshit.

(HC and Mrs. Cleaver stop having sex)

HumanityCritic: Theodore, the myth is true, I'm just an exception to the rule. Mr. Cleaver, what can I say but,(pointing at Mrs. Cleavers genitalia) "Leave it to Beaver" like a motherfucker!!!

Video of the Day: The Juice Crew: "The Symphony"

This track will probably go down, in my humble opinion, as one of the greatest posse cuts of all time. Whenever I see some random collaboration, Lil John, Nelly and MC Pantywaist, or Chingy, Yung Joc, featuring Lil ball-sweat, I have to laugh because I'm sure they all feel what they are doing is a collaboration pushing the art-form forward. Depressing thoughts aside, I've always been the biggest fans of both Big Daddy Kane and Kool G Rap. When I was younger I thought Kane had the better verse with "Put a quarter in your ass cause you player yourself!!", but now that I'm older I feel that Kool G Rap has the better verse. Come on, "Making veterans run for medicine, turning out more light in a fight than Con Edison!", masturbation couldn't beat that.

Sorry, but THIS is the most violent Hip Hop video of all time: Kool G Rap "On the Run"

You know how the Internet is, you stumble on shit unexpectedly when you are looking for something entirely unrelated to what you originally looked for. I have stumbled on a DJ Premier fansite when I was looking for midget pornography, I found an old high school friend on myspace when I was searching for a site where the women lacked a gag reflex, I even found a great Hip Hop blog when I was searching pornography where the women were covered in chocolate.(Yes, I like porn) So the other day, when I was browsing the Internet(probably for porn) I came across this page on SOHH where they were breaking down some of the most violent Hip Hop video's ever. It was pretty interesting, in a "I totally disagree, but respectfully" fashion, so I thought I would chime in with my 12 cents here on my blog. One of the choices on the site was N.W.A's "Alwayz Into Somethin", a choice I disagree with because besides having that fake rasta dude in the chorus, all the video was was the group members shooting off guns like they were at a firing range, shooting walls and shit. Another choice was Jay-Z's "99 Problems", great video, but anyone who has seen a "Behind the Scene's" part of a DVD knows about those squibs they put on your body to make it look like you are being shot. Yes Jay gets shot at the end, but not violent enough for a blood thirsty savage like myself. B.I.G's "Warning", nope, Onyx's "Live Niguz", please, it became apparent that I didn't agree with any of the choices that were on this gentleman's page.

The most violent Hip Hop video ever, in my chubby humble opinion, is Kool G Rap's "On the Run". Along with how eerie it was shot, the vivid story line in the song, and the actual bodies that homeboy catches in the video, I would say that this video in the winner hands down. Plus, come on, no one in N.W.A were real gangsters, Ice Cube was going to college and Dre used to wear lace and shit pre-N.W.A. Onyx, weren't they an R&B group at one time, and the mere fact that Sticky got his ass beat on MTV years ago in a boxing match against an X-Gamer erases any form of toughness whatsoever. Granted, I don't know what if any forms of criminality G Rap has been a part of, but lets just say that I wouldn't test him.

A true sign of the Apocalypse: Typing the words "chicken noodle soup" on Youtube

I have never had a post where the title pretty much sums up everything you need to know. It's true, if you go to Youtube, type in the words "chicken noodle soup", you will witness the decay of civilization as you know it. What you will see, as soon as you hit enter on that porn machine you call a computer, is a lengthy display of douche-bags across the globe doing some minstrel-like dance called the "Chicken Noodle Soup". I have to ask you, am I just getting old?? Did our parents look at "The Whop" and dances of my era the same way I look at this dance, privately wondering if these particular individuals are going to smear shoe polish on their face as their blackface "finishing move". Jesus...

Ask HumanityCritic

Over the past year and change I have done this very segment entitled "Ask HumanityCritic" where I post the answers to some of the questions posed to me in some emails I receive. I hoped that my openness, my candid nature, my truthfulness would lead me to a path of Internet ass so impressive that Bill Gates himself would nod in approval. But to no avail, no ass, just some comments of the "hey you are a funny guy and I'd fuck you if the price was right and you were the last motherfucker on earth" variety, but no ass. Oh well, on to the questions..

Humanity Critic, do any of your Ex's read your bog??

A few do, I mean, the ones that aren't currently poking holes in a dread-locked voodoo doll, hoping that I meet the worst of fates. (Seriously, I had an ex who claimed that she was into voodoo and told me that she would make sure that my dick turned blue. You can imagine her frustration when I casually said, "That's OK, I'll just tell people that I've been butt-fucking a smurf. Problem solved.) But for the most part the few exes that still read this daily drivel don't have an issue with that I write, except an ex who took offense to the fact that I said that she left me for a bum.(Sorry, he was a fucking bum)

You haven't talked about Kobe lately.. I was wondering, what do you think is the biggest misconception concerning your favorite ball player?

The biggest misconception I feel is that Kobe "owed" Shaq any loyalty at all. I mean, Shaq openly bitched, publicly ridiculed, and tried to go to management on numerous occasions and have Kobe traded for years. Kobe didn't owe Shaq anything, shit, my ass would have told police Shaq's social security number along with a slew of names of women he slept with like my ass was giving a list of communists to Joseph McCarthy. I'm sorry, but there is no "guy code" if the other party wouldn't piss on you if you were on fire.

Right now I'm single but I have what some call "a friend with benefits". What are your feelings on FWB by the way?

"FWB" always seems like a great concept, "Wait, I can fuck you without having to take your mangy ass anywhere, slip some loving your way without a million questions, I can promote my anti-snuggle agenda?? Where do I sign up??!!" But trust me, after about 5-10 late-night visits where you try to, for lack of a better phrase "knock the stuffin' out of that Egg McMuffin", things begin to go bad like Lil Kim pap smear results. Soon she will be asking about your whereabouts, wanting to do chill with you during "non sex" hours, giving you lofty demands like "You better not be fucking anyone else", but there is one sign where you know that you FWB experience is coming to an end though. That point is post coitus, when she turns to you and says, "Hey, we have to talk!!" Those my friend are the worst 5 words ever, outside of "HumanityCritic, I think I'm pregnant!", "You gave me a disease", and "I'm a Young Jeezy fan."

I used to think your blog was a bunch of stories until I met someone who knows you. I was wondering, how in the fuck have you escaped serious jail time?

Basically I am the human embodiment of that term about God watching over fools and babies, the fool part, even though I'm all for being breast fed. I have had the cuffs slapped on me on a few occasions, even spent a night or two in city jail, but I've never been in "pound me in the ass" prison.("Office Space" reference) I'm glad too because I have a fat ass and long hair, not saying that I wouldn't fight desperately from being someones bitch, but I'm sure my readership would dip to all time lows if people ever found out that I followed an inmate around named "Tiny" while holding his pocket signifying ownership.

You seem to have a very gay friendly blog, what are your beliefs on homosexuality?

To be honest, and gay people are going to be upset with me that I am trivializing their plight, but my acceptance comes from me just not giving a fuck when it comes to how other people live their lives. Gay marriage, homosexuals, lesbians, I will fight along side them because I feel that they shouldn't be discriminated against, but also because I basically think that if something doesn't fucking involve you personally then why should you be against it. Basic, I know, but I am a simple, simple man.

Some people have attacked your usage of the phrase "Real Hip Hop", what are your thoughts on that?

My thoughts are that those people who are against me using that can eat a dick..Next Question!!


OK, OK, I'll elaborate. Real Hip Hop is that shit you will be playing 20 years from now, it's that feeling that the author put his blood, sweat, and tears into his verse, it is that intoxicating beat that makes you nod your head faster than Crackhead blow jobs. "The Bridge is over", "Paid in Full", the D.O.C's "It's Funky Enough", are tunes that I will play while my grand-kids are playing in my front yard. If people are against my usage of what's real or not, ask yourself this question: Can you see yourself playing Lil John, Young Joc or Jeezy, or the Dipset when you are in your 70's?? Didn't think so...

How do you feel about T.I?

When it comes to my tastes in Hip Hop I have three categories.. 1)Dope 2)Wack and 3)Artists that I'm not mad at.. See, even though I probably will never purchase anything with T.I's recorded voice on it, I'm not mad at the man either. This how I see it, if I feel that you love the artform, take pride in what you do, and you don't treat your audience like complete fucking children then I'll give you love. T.I falls in that category.

HumanityCritic, a friend of mine has given me the green light to date his ex-girlfriend. Should I take it?

Don't do it, take it from a man who is an authority on the subject. For example, an ex girlfriend of one of my friends had shown some interest in my chubbiness, so when I approached my boy with it he gave his blessing. I mean, that's all he talked about, how "great" me and her would be together, how I would be better for her than he was, a litany of shit that would give a guy the impression that he was cool with it. Well, a couple of weeks and 6 sexual encounters with his ex later I found out he wasn't cool with it, he was talking shit about me to my other friends, calling her at odd hours, asking me "So, how are my leftover motherfucker??" I tried to take the high road, break it off with the chick to salvage our friendship but he was an insufferable prick regardless. That's when I started doing silly shit like going up to my friend and putting my fingers under his nose, saying "You remember that smell don't you??" Suffice it to say we are no longer pals.

If you could beat someone up for being wack, actor, rapper, whoever.. Who would it be?

Lets see.. Nick Cannon, the dude just bugs me.. Lil Wayne, for the amount of people who actual give this frog looking no talent love. Rush Limbaugh, not for his miserable political beliefs either, I'd just want to go through his pockets for some street grade Oxycontin and get baked!!

What is your favorite album of all time??

Even though the guy isn't even a shell of his old self nowadays, but I'd have to say Ice Cube's "Death Certificate". It was a dope album that addressed poverty, the health care system, gun control, gang violence, racism, the military preying on poor black men, STD's.. Jesus man, you can't get any better than that can you??

I saw "Beat Street" the other night on cable, what do you think about that movie?

Even though the Hip Hop purists probably loathe this movie, I loved it because I'm from Virginia. Let me explain: Being from VA I never had one of those "..and then the DJ plugged his equipment to the light pole at the block party" stories, so any piece of the culture that was thrown my way I was more than willing to gobble up. Also, since I'm an asshole I have used a few lines in the movie in my every day life since then. If a friend of mine was getting beat up, or laying on the ground after taking a beating, I would scream "RAMO!!!!!!!"


I see its time for the BlackWeblogAwards, are you throwing your hat into the ring again?

I don't think so, I mean, there was so much amount of hate concerning my win last time. Thinly veiled disses from other bloggers, nasty emails, people taking me off their blog rolls because of it, I pissed so many people off that maybe it's time that I just bow out gracefully because no one wants to see me win..


You're kidding right??

Of course I am! Man, do you really think I give a slippery fuck what people think about me. I've called someones grandmother "an old whore", put my undersized penis inside a woman during a wake, told a nun she had a "nice ass" once, and let some skinny ass stripper at a bachelor party know that she didn't have enough meat on their bones so I put a sandwich in front of her instead of dollar. I'm down to piss other bloggers off again. (Climbing on my soapbox, looking quite presidential) I'm officially throwing my hat in the ring for the BlackWebogAwards for a second time!!!!

Cases where the actor tried to live out their on screen persona..

Even though I would love to be an actor in the worst way, being able to make a character come to life on screen and the shitload of ass that would come my way because of it, I know that that dream will never happen. Not because I feel that I'm not talented, even though during a High School audition for a play my dumb ass recited stage direction along with my lines: "Dorothy, I love you! Turn and embrace her. I want to be with you forever!! Gazzingly look into her eyes" Not because I feel that I lack the drive to be successful, even though I was fired off a local commercial when I came to the set reeking of alcohol and weed. Not even because I feel that I wouldn't be able to handle all of the female attention, even though after wearing two condoms during sexual intercourse I still wait anxiously for that pissing sensation while urinating, even if it doesn't happen I get tested anyway. I couldn't be an actor because I have a history of trying to live out the roles that I've taken on.

Like the time I ordered my family around for weeks after I played the role of "The Angry Boss" after a 4th grade play I was in. My family was tolerant for a while as I ordered them around like House Negros in the republican party, but one day my father said "If you don't cut that shit out, I'm going to play the role of "child abuser"! I promptly stopped, but a few minutes later I found myself on the business end of a spanking, so when I yelled "What are you doing??" my father said, "I'm method acting!!" Or last year when I played the part of "Vegas" the street pimp in my friends low budget movie that he shot, a movie that went "straight to the shit-can". Honestly, for a while I thought that I had pimp like skills of persuasion. After a few nights of getting drinks thrown in my face, and a few "You want to stick that where??", I knew that trying to live out my screen persona was definitely NOT the move. Here are some actors who I feel try, or have tried to live out there screen persona.

David Carradine: Character:Kwai Chang Caine Show:"Kung Fu"

I guess most of you would know him best as the character of "Bill" in those "Kill Bill" movies, and the man has done a shitload of other acting work, but it is my opinion that this son of a bitch has based his entire life on a character he player more than 30 years ago. Whenever I have seen him, in magazines or in interviews, he has been wearing some fashionable Karate Gui like he just came from a tournament where he defeated a member of the "Cobra Kai"(Karate Kid reference) I'm not sure of the man's history or even if he has a background in Martial Arts or not, but if you can't throw hands with the best of them then stop the false advertising. Unless you aren't a stripper, I'd hope that a man wearing a policeman or a fireman uniform actually partook in those professions. Besides the costume, when you hear the guy talk it seem that he's channeling his best Karate Master voice, like he is dropping verbal gems on you that should be engraved in your brian forever. I had a dream once where I met him and he tried to pull that "snatch the pebble from my hand" shit, where I responded "If I grab it I'm going to shove it right up your ass!" Granted, that seems like something a highly aggressive proctologist might say, but you get my point.

David Hasselhoff: Character: Micheal Knight Show: "Knight Rider"

I know, I know, the man doesn't drive a slick black car that talks to him, and you probably won't see him talking into his watch and summoning his automobile, but it is my belief that he thinks he is Michael Knight in every other way. For one thing, outside of the main character of both "The Office" sitcoms, I have never seen a person so uncool think that they are the unadulterated shit. I know that he is the shit in Germany, a lot of no talents here are the "cats pajama's" abroad, but when you see him you get the feeling he looks in the mirror everyday saying "Hasselhoff like a motherfucker!! Yeahhhh!!" I like confidence like the next guy, but when you see him sing you can tell that in his mind he thinks he is bettering society by his singing that is akin to hearing a constipated turkey moan. To add insult to injury, the guy calls himself "The Hoff"!! You know that you are asshat of douche-bag proportions when you give yourself a nickname. Mike, you were cool when that English voice was coming from your ride, not any more.

Tupac Shakur: Character: "Bishop" Movie: "Juice"

I can just imagine the amount of hate I'm about to receive, every time I say something that isn't claiming that Pac is the best rapper ever, I get a shitload of misspelled emails of hate that invoke more chuckles than anything. Listen, I liked Pac, I'm just disappointed in some of his actions when he was alive and I don't think he was the best rapper ever(far from it), that's all. That being said, I always thought he was trying to channel his character "Bishop" by some of the shit I would see him do or say on T.V. When I first became aware of Pac he was wearing African garb in a Digital Underground video on some "Now I clown around when I hang around with the Underground" shit. His first LP was gritty, with a bunch of male bravado, but it seemed more like a young cat coming to grips with the ills of society from a black man's point of view. It's just my opinion that he didn't start buggin the fuck out until after his role in "Juice". I'm not one to psycho-analyze anyone, and the guy had definite issues concerning his upbringing, but some of actions and words didn't seem like an unruly youth throwing caution to the wind, it always seemed like a dude trying to prove something to somebody that he didn't have to.

Video of the Day: MC Lyte "Paper Thin"

MC Lyte, one of the best rappers ever, the reason that I wanted a Jetta for the longest time, the reason that I only dated chicks with her signature hairstyle, the one and only wordsmith herself. In an age where females have to not only dumb down their lyrics for fame and fortune, and possibly put a snapshot of their ovaries in the liner notes of their album, MC Lyte is sadly a dying breed to say the least. Even though I totally hated that fucking "Rough Neck" song, not because it was particularly bad but because it had women glorifying the image of what a thug was and most of those pussies can't fight anyway. Despite that misstep, I have always had the utmost respect for Lyte, for the path she blazed, her classic music, and the fact that the words "DO NOT SAY SHIT UNTIL YOU WRITE YOUR OWN RHYMES!!!" should be the top Hip Hop Commandment.

"..And You Don't Stop 30 years of Hip Hop" Part 1

I can be hard on people who I feel have horrible tastes in music, I know that and I will never stop being the biggest of Hip Hop snobs.(Sorry, the insufferable prick in me will always be there) But being only a casual comic book and having brief conversations of the genre with hardcore fans like ISelfra, Luke Cage, and Clarence, it seems that the whole world of comics would open up to be if I had a greater concept of history concerning the genre. Because of this I have to just assume that the current state of Hip Hop and the proverbial shit stains that people consider legitimate artists nowadays, it's my assumption that people just don't have a firm grasp of the history of Hip Hop and that explains their piss poor tastes. That being said, I will do my best to drop certain jewels to possibly enlighten the unenlightened. I'm not claiming that I know it all, I don't and can learn from all of you to be totally honest, but occasionally I will do my best to further Hip Hop in the right direction..

That's right. A kinder, gentler HumanityCritic..

As much as we try to distance ourselves from the negative traits that are parents had, there is always that moment of clarity moment when we look in the mirror and realize that we are exactly like them. I don't mind having my mother's traits, I can be kind, compassionate, attentive, and we both share the same love for Negligee catalogs.(For entirely different reasons I hope.) I'm just lucky that I didn't inherit some of my old man's traits, the ability to belittle people, his Jekyll and hide mood-swings, and his weird love for women with excessive hair on their legs.(I remember when he was alive him telling me, "See there HumanityCritic, that right there is a real woman!!" So you can imagine his disgust when I said, "Shit, that woman right there is a Sasquatch! I wouldn't know whether to fuck her, or sheer her for a winter coat!!" He also got mad that I called her "Harry and The Henderson's" to her face whenever I saw her. I'm saying ladies, some hair is alright, but if you can braid the hair on your legs please shave that shit, you bloody fucking savage!)

But the one trait that was handed down from my father, the one trait that has gotten me uninvited to weddings and made people afraid that I would start fights at a baptism, is my extremely bad temper. For those who have read this blog for any amount of time know that I sought professional help for my anger issues, but that experience wound up with a highly trained mental health professional telling me that I was "fucking nuts". So for the past few months, like King Fu walking the earth on some "can you snatch this pebble out of my hand motherfucker?" shit, I have tried to unlock the mystery that is my temper on my own and basically try my best, for lack of a better term, calm the fuck down. Even though, like a kid getting "tea-bagged" by a bully a few times a week there has indeed been some testy moments(get it, "testy"), I have done a lot better when it comes to keeping my temper in check. Here are a few incidents that happened over the last week where I wanted to flip the fuck out, but like an Eskimo winning a blow-job contest, cooler heads prevailed.

My Lawn: For the past 2 years my relationship with my neighbors has been, well, strained at best. Lets see, there has been the white trash hair salon that the lady of the house had built in her garage which in turn led to people parking in front of my house, the looks of disgust I'd get from them every time I walked a miscellaneous woman to her car one drunken morning, how the man of the house almost got beaten the fuck up in front of his child by yours truly after he didn't acknowledge my "what's up" for the third time in a row, but there has always been one monumental issue that I had with the neighbors ever since they have lived there. That problem, in a nutshell, is concerning my lawn. Let me give you a brief background: The people who lived in that house before them had the fucked up habit of cutting multiple rows into my lawn each and every week. No matter how many times I would go over it with my lawn mower, passive aggressively telling them that they were cutting into my property, it's like they didn't give a shit and they would cut even further. After a while it stopped, not because we discussed it like adults or anything, not even because I showed my lovely neighbors documentation of where their property ended, but basically because one summer day when I saw them cutting into my yard I very innocently told them "If you do that again, I'm going to fucking kill you!!" It made me look crazy but it worked. So like old folklore that is passed down from generation to generation, it is my belief that when they sold the house to the current occupants they told them to cut into my yard, I'm serious.

I thought that the divorce of my unruly neighbors would stop their practice of cutting into my yard, I figured now that the lady of the house has the duty of getting her ass out there and cutting the lawn that she would have a common sense about her that her knuckle-dragging, "let me ignore the surveyors spray paint marks and wooden stick in the ground proving that I'm cutting into HumanityCritic's yard" ass didn't have. But last week, as I came home one afternoon, I had noticed that this broad cut 4-5 lines into my yard. Irate, here's what I wanted to do..

I wanted to...: Go over to her house, knock on the door and politely ask if her parents were siblings. I'm sure this wouldn't sit with her too well which I understand, so I can only imagine how upset she would get after I asked her "What are you, fucking retarded??" as I manually pointed her head in the direction of my lawn. The next few minutes, because I'm sick of the same bullshit, I would talk to her like she was a retarded toddler that was hard of hearing. I'd slowly show her the paperwork that indicates where her lawn ends and mine begins, then I would go out of my way and offer to blow it up to poster-size proportions and mount it to the front of her garage if her slow ass ever need it as a guide. Lastly, because I'm a helpful guy like that, I would get a can of spray paint and spray the words "Hey whore, don't pass this line! Thanks.."

What actually happened: I took a few deep breaths, relaxed, and proceeded to cut my own grass without making a fuss. As I got blacker under the 100 degree heat and did my lawn work, I was proud that I didn't lose my head like I had done a million times before. Granted, I did cut like 10 lines into her grass, 10 very uneven and patchy lines to get my point across, but at least I did it in a very calm fashion.

My friends Barbecue: Each year my friend Paul has a barbecue that I love going to, not only because the food is great, the fact that we freestyle, or even the ability to get drunk free of charge, I love going to his shin-digs because his wife has some of the most simple girlfriends imaginable, and I'm all for lines like "Hey, I have my own car!!" being the key to me being on the business end of some random piece of ass at a later date. Anyway, at the barbecue I'm in the middle of three very mentally inept chicks that I'm desperately trying to premature ejaculate with later, when I hear this drunk asshole making quite the disturbance. Dude is cursing people out, throwing things at people, inappropriate grabbing women, and worst of all he made the women that I wanted to sexuallydisappoint so uncomfortable that they wanted to leave. Paul looked at me to do something, so here's what I wanted to do..

I wanted to..: Go up to him and chop him in his throat, and when he was on the ground grasping for air I would go through his pockets then snatch his chain off.(a HumanityCritic signature move) When he regained his wits about him I'm sure that he would want a piece of me, so as we decided to engage in the aged old art of fisticuffs, I'd have him eating jabs the entire time, showing the simple minded bimbo's in attendance that I at least had a skill in something, even if I was quite the letdown in the bedroom. The next few minutes would probably involve me throwing him into the punch bowl, smacking him with some salad forks, possibly even tossing him into a grill or two.

What actually happened: I was so proud of myself that I didn't feel the need to assault the young man unnecessarily. The last thing that I wanted to do was perpetuate the angry black man image, so I really felt that I had accomplished something by very calmly escorting the gentleman to a cab that was called for him. Ok, so my "escorting" actually consisted of me grabbing him by the back of the next and physically kicking him into the cab like he was a stray dog or something, but I never hit him though!

The jackass in the check-out line: In not all that into astrology, but the one thing about Virgo's that I have read that I feel is spot on is how they say that Virgo's are very regimented. That's why if I ever had a hit-man that wanted to end me and the existence of this shitty blog, I wouldn't be that hard to find based on my utterly monotonous routine. Every day after I play basketball, I go to the supermarket to get some Gatorade before I get home. I could have stocked up on Gatorade at an earlier date so I would have it waiting for me when I got home, I could have even purchased it at a closer establishment to where I play ball at so I could quench my chubby thirsts on the drive home, but because I am a stickler for routine I go to the same grocery store near my house like clockwork. So yesterday, after I picked up my selection of Gatorade and started to get in line, this musclebound ass-hat rushed in front of me with his cart full of shit, and to add insult to injury he turned to me and said, "Sucks to be you huh???" I could actually feel the steam coming off my scalp, I mean, besides the blatant rudeness he had a cart full of shit and I had one sole item. That's when I wanted to..

I wanted to..: Choke the life out of him with that 1980's style string tank-top that he had on, watching him get beet red with me screaming "Who does it suck for now motherfucker!!" The next few minutes would consist of me kicking him vigorously, like how Joe Pesci and Robert DeNiro did that guy in "Goodfellas", as the employees and patrons of "Food Lion" look on in utter disbelief as I beat the brakes off of that motherfucker. My finishing move would be to empty the contents of his basket and grab some of his items for myself, afterwards throwing his entire cart onto his lifeless body, yelling "take that motherfucker!!!'

What actually happened: I waited calmly in line with my one item, as this shit-stain bought a shitload of supplements and other things to shrink your cock at an extremely fast rate. When I finally got to the cashier I was glad that I didn't cause a scene, because I knew that the old HumanityCritic would have gave him quite the helping of ass whipping. Granted, when I got outside and saw the man loading his groceries into his van with his wife, I did say "You are lucky I didn't Mame your dumb ass in there!" When he looked like he wanted to say some slick shit I said, "Don't get your ass kicked in front of your lady!!" I know, it's not the most positive tale that you've ever heard in your life, but at least I kept my cool.(Somewhat)

Video of the Day: Public Enemy: "Shut em Down"

Remember the movie "Brown Sugar", where the main character would ask everyone who she interviewed "When did they fall in love with Hip Hop"? Well, even though it was just a piece of fiction, I always felt that it was a softball fucking question. I mean, I fell in love with Hip Hop when my siblings brought that Sugar Hill Gang record home when I was in kindergarten, and watching my father's disapproval of something that he claimed at the time "was a bunch of niggas talking" had me hook, line and sinker. But I look at Hip Hop more like a marriage, forget recalling first dates and first kisses, I always want to know about those in-between moments where you knew that you would love that person forever.

For me, one of those "in-between" moments was the summer of 88' when my 3 cousins came to Va Beach from Hollis Queens. Since their arrival was near my birthday(Aug 31st), they came bearing gifts, three tapes that would indeed change me for the rest of my life. One was Big Daddy Kane's "Long Live the Kane", the second was EPMD's "Strictly Business", and the third was Public Enemy's "It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back". Even though I was a fan of Hip Hop before this point, I can point to me receiving those three albums as a focal point when it comes to my love of said art form. But it was mainly Chuck D, showing me a side of life that I hadn't yet experienced in the suburbia that is Virginia Beach, a side of history that I wouldn't learn at Kempsville High, the rugged beats, the unapologetic lyrics, and the preacher vocal delivery who would put sweaty baptists like T.D Jakes to shame. Man, god bless Public Enemy, god bless Chuck D.(More accurately, Happy Birthday)

Smashing GameCube

I saw this video on Youtube and immediately felt the sudden need to apologize to my cousin John. When we were kids, because I'm a prick who happened to be 4 years older than him, I would torture the poor kid in ever way imaginable. I would break his skateboard, lock him in small closets, throw one of his shoes out of a moving car, throw one of his shoes in a lake, steal his chicken McNuggets, your classic older cousin bullshit. John has not only grown up to be a great dude, he is about 6'5 and full of muscle. He claims that he doesn't remember me fucking with him to no end when we were adolescents, and I hope he really means that, because it is my firm belief that my baby cousin could have me pissing myself in the fetal position somewhere if he wanted to. John, dear cousin, if you are reading this let me say right now that I'm sorry, and if you have me on a short list of people you want to assassinate, please be a pal and take me off. Because I'd hate to sound like that car jack victim in "Menace to Society" that was being robbed by the Kane character, and say to you as I'm staring down the barrel of a gun: "Come on, we're supposed to be brothers!!!!!"

(To cut time, fast forward the video to the 2:57 mark)