For those who have read this blog, or my Vibe blog, most of you are already well versed on my particularly fragile mental state. Don't worry, I'm not the type of "crazy" that predisposes me to torture puppies and smear my own fecal matter on my bedroom walls in my spare time - lord knows its hard enough getting a chick to enter my "stabbin' cabin" as it is. But I'm in therapy though, pouring my heart out to a mental health professional as they give me their best poker-face - watching them fight back grimaces and looks of utter disgust as I recall lovely childhood memories of me bashing in a bullies' knees with a hammer or the time I dealt with a dude who sexually assaulted a longtime friend of mine by pouring gasoline on him as I chased him around with a lit lighter. We won't even go into my current psychological issues, the way in which I require each of my lovers to wear bifocals to bed so I don't feel sexually inadequate - not to mention how she has to let me call her "Vanity" during sex while she screams "You ARE the Last Dragon, Bruce Leroy!" in order for me to achieve climax. I'm trying to deal with my verbal turrets as well, this is what concerns me the most because shouting shit in public is what makes people think that I'm crazier than cat-shit. Everything from telling everyone who would listen that a Pat Robertson minion who was handing out pamphlets at my local grocery store happened to also star in bestiality videos, telling women on first dates "lets skip the whole 'courting' thing and go straight to you saying "that's it?", and a little habit of mine that I have of threatening the lives of DJ's who happen to play one too many Dipset songs. But through therapy, my shrink looking less like Dr. Melfi and more like Martina Navratilova -I've learned to control my sudden outbursts. Even though I wanted to make a guys nose bone stab his brain when he told me that Lil Wayne was one of the best rappers of all time, I controlled my anger, simply walking away mumbling to myself as if I was a dreadlocked version of "Yosemite Sam". The other day when a bum put his arm around me as I entered a 7-11 asking for change, sure my first reaction was to hit him with a 10 punch combination before asking him to get his hands off of me - but cooler heads prevailed and I just told the homeless gentleman that I'd burn down his cardboard fortress if he ever touched me again. That's what I call progress ladies and gentlemen, resisting the urge to spontaneous go ballistic at the drop of a hat - except when I hear these following songs that is.
Redman: "Tonight's da Night"(Remix): If I ever happen to be the plaintiff in some sort of heinous crime in the future, hopefully my defense team will be smart enough to point to this song as the source of my insanity. Every time I hear this song I can't seem to control myself, I usually end up wildly nodding my head as if was having an epileptic seizure to a beat - violently palming peoples faces and mushing them with the most reckless of abandon.
Otis Redding: "Try a Little Tenderness": Because of how popular this song is, I've been known to react to it in the most public of places - banks, supermarkets, you name it and chances are people witnessed me acting a complete fool to this song and possibly feared for their lives. I'm pretty subdued during most of the song, promising myself that I won't make a complete ass of myself this time. But towards the end when brother Otis starts feeling it, riffing if you will - some strange force makes me stomp my feet and raise my hand to the sky as if the holy ghost infiltrated my heathen body as I loudly scream "Got-ta-ta- Na-na-na -Tr-Try a little tenderness!!"
Prince: "Darling Nikki": I'm aware that saying "Darling Nikki" is your favorite Prince song is as lame and predictable as saying that the Bible is your favorite book - but based on it being the absolute truth, I don't mind being cliche on this blog. Based on how many women became intimately acquainted with my body to this song, whenever it comes on I get these flashbacks akin to the kind war veterans must have - the big difference is that their recollections are of the Vietcong and firefights, mine are of pre-ejaculation and eye-rolls - but I digress. Nevertheless, I was at a gathering recently and found myself jumping around like a lunatic when this song came on - Screaming "Come back Nikki, Come back!!" while clumsily thrusting my hips while flickering my tongue for some reason.
Rage Against the Machine: "Bulls on Parade": In this current political climate where our president is trying to do away with Habeas Corpus and the Democratic party are a bunch of pussies, we need some Rage Against the Machine in our lives right about now. I realized this the other day as I sat in rush hour traffic, me damn near banging my head against my steering wheel to this song - so much in fact that an elderly black women felt compelled to get out her car to knock on my window and ask "Is everything alright baby?"
Kool G Rap: "Ill Street Blues": I'd never admit this if I ever happened to be on a panel that addressed Hip Hop lyrics - but since we are all family here I'll admit this to you and you only, "Ill Street Blues" makes me want to do very bad things. Ever since this song came out, you don't know how bad I wanted to throw some asshole out of a window while putting a healthy amount of lead in their diet - only to say, "Up, Up, Up, and away clown. Buck, Buck, Buck, take that with you on the way down!!!" But since I love my freedom and enjoy not having my prostate treated like a pinata, I keep my lunacy to nodding my head and exhibiting the meanest Ice-grill whenever this song comes on.