Tuesday, December 29, 2009

Trailer for "Repo Men"

There are certain actors that I'll go see in pretty much anything, damn near sight unseen. Even though I've made a concerted effort to avoid a handful of Matt Damon flicks, he's had a pretty good track record of picking good projects. Same thing thing with Ed Norton. Phillip Seymour Hoffman as well. Jude Law also falls into that category. Shit, ever since "Gattaca" I've seen a lions share of homeboy's movies - and this trailer only ensures me seeing another one.

Monday, November 23, 2009

4 Things I learned during a Power Outage

If the events of a couple of weeks ago proved anything to me its that you never stop learning things about yourself. After dictating my innermost feelings on this blog for the last 5 years: The nonexistent relationship with my father that I'll be regretting well into the winter of my life. My penchant for gratuitous violence that's only rivaled by my ravenous appetite for putting low self esteem having women on the business end of my catalog of perversions. My randomly reluctant admissions that the career asshole who once sodomized a woman in a church does indeed have a heart at times. The catharsis that this blog has provoked had me thinking that I've pretty much figured myself out, the same way one masters a rubix cube or the game pattern to Pac-Man. But the Nor'easter that hit Virginia recently where I was one of the 100,000 that went powerless(for two days), taught me some truly revealing things about yours truly.

I'm an authority on old sitcoms: Besides the binge drinking. Forget about my sordid history of unflinching womanizing. Take away the fact that a handful of women that I've dated would probably characterize me as an "emotional cripple" based on the glory hole in my house that I pressured them to pleasure me through. One of the main reasons why I firmly believe that I'm single is because I'm extraordinarily quirky. I'm a 36 year old black guy who likes skateboarding, Kevin Smith movies, shooting high powered weapons at gun ranges, collecting comic books, has an eternal crush on Janeane Garofalo, and more times than not has purposely made love while Public Enemy's "Welcome to the Terrordome" was playing. But as I found myself in the dark, bored, staring up at a ceiling that was barely visible thanks to the cheap candles that I had just lit after the power cut off - another nerdy trait of mine was thrown into the mix as I spent the next 2 hours singing/humming theme-songs to sitcoms that stopped airing years before I was born. See I was a latchkey kid, so most of my afternoons were spent watching "Hazel", "The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis", "Bewitched", "My Three Sons", 'Leave it to Beaver", "The Andy Griffith Show", "The Flying Nun", "Green Acres" "Hogan's Heroes" "The Munsters", "McHale's Navy" "The Courtship Of Eddie's Father", and a shitload of others that I'm purposely excluding for the sole purpose of saving what shred of street credibility that I have left. Shit, no wonder I've been reduced to craigslist companionship.

I admit, talking to myself is pretty creepy: I'm not a bloody savage for Christs sakes, I always make sure that any dialogue that escapes my hairy mandible directed at myself is always done in complete privacy. Its actually a habit that started when I was a kid, talking to yourself is nothing but self preservation when spending inordinate amounts of time alone in your formative years. My mother believes that my penchant for turning an internal dialog into an external one is what has turned me into a somewhat serviceable writer. That said, I never thought it was that much of a problem until I actually heard myself babble on when complete silence served as the backdrop. What turned into a harmless habit that I simply felt was me actively organizing my thoughts became a rather sad display of loneliness from a childless 30-something.

I'm not the human hard-on that I thought I was: Ladies, I may not leave you walking funny come morning time, I may not reach your personal top 5 as far as sexual endurance goes - but rain, sleet, or snow I will be there whenever you need me on some postal carrier shit. I've been deathly ill with the flu, sporting a fever on the verge of putting me into a coma, and I've always found a way to desperately attempt to share my unimpressive black penis with my significant other. One time I had a nasty case of food poisoning where I was throwing up every five minutes and had the audacity to tell my girlfriend, "I just threw up so we have plenty of time to fuck, I'll brush my teeth if you want me to!" A few years ago I got jumped, mercilessly pounded into hamburger meat because I had previously beaten up one of their friends. Later that night with my eyes swollen shut, looking completely unrecognizable, I told my then girlfriend, "You'd better ride me because I'll bleed on you otherwise." I said all of that because during the power outage a young lady that is an acquaintance of mine(local stripper) wanted to come over and get to know me in the biblical sense.(I guess she likes her pre-ejaculation to dollar store candlelight) When I informed her via text message that my street was severely flooded, she quickly responded that she could drive her brother's jacked up truck to thwart said problem - also mentioning that she had some fly fishing boots to help her brave the rest of the way. I was flattered, but too dejected and irritable to even think about sex. I know, me refusing to get my unadulterated fuck on must be a sign of the apocalypse.

I'd commit suicide if I worked in radio: I always knew that listening to the radio was a particularly soul crushing experience, especially if you are a Hip Hop fan - even pedestrian aficionados of two turntables and a microphone can unfortunately hear artists desecrate the artform in Real time. New millennium minstrel acts, monosyllabic wordsmiths satisfied with their unimpressive station in life, sub par artistry of that magnitude had successfully kept me far away from the radio for the better part of a decade. But as I was forced to wade through the proverbial muck and mire of urban radio as I searched for weather updates due to the power outage, I was shocked to find out that it was actually much worse than I imagined. I felt myself losing I.Q points by the moment, so much in fact that I sincerely thought that my motor skills would be lost forever if I listened to the radio for one solitary hour. But I didn't know what was sadder, the state of affairs that music is in nowadays or the radio personalities who I know love real Hip Hop who are being forced to play such monstrosities? Suicide should never be an option, but if I worked at a radio station I'd make sure that they collected my shoe strings and kept me away from sharp items at all times.

Monday, November 16, 2009

Glenn Nye: Not exactly a profile in courage

(This was written early last week, but a power outage due to the Nor'easter is why I'm posting it now)

Remember that scene in "Goodfellas" when Jimmy(Robert DeNiro) excitedly called to hear how Tommy's(Joe Pesci) ceremony where he was being "made" went, only to get the unexpected news that his childhood friend had met an untimely demise? The dismissively casual nature of the person on the other end of that phone call has always stuck with me, I can't tell you how many times I've uttered the words "He's gone, and we couldn't do nothing about it" in a rather deadpan manner to the girlfriend of some insufferable douchebag that I had just put on the business end of a merciless beating. I was reminded of that scene in "Goodfellas" two weeks ago when I called Glenn Nye's office to find out how he intended to vote for the health care Bill in the House. Immediately I was told, without the receptionist at Glenn Nye's office even doing what I feel would be the bare minimum and explaining the rhyme or reason behind his decision, that my state representative was voting against Health Care reform. I guess the news of my state representative blatantly betraying his constituents would have been easier to take if it wasn't delivered with such arrogant indifference, I'm still convinced that she was literally shrugging while informing me of his "no" vote. I'm willing to bet good money, dough that would have otherwise gone to my weed dealer and various handjob professionals, that my sound political advice that a "no" vote would guarantee Mr. Nye a primary challenger was purposely being ignored while cuticles were being taken care of and polish was being applied. I've historically been an insensitive lover who desperately loathes post coital conversation, so I know what condescending silence sounds like.

What's really troubling about Glenn Nye's vote is that he ran as an anti-war candidate against a horrible right winger(Thelma Drake) who voted with Bush 98% of the time - I can concede that voting for Health Care reform may be tough politically, but the pitchforks wouldn't exactly be out for Glenn Nye if he voted for it. Also, we all know from our childhood experiences that acquiescing to bullies still gives you fist marks in your chest and prostate puncturing wedgies - the right wing will still paint you as a tax and spend liberal who adores the Kenyan in the White House. But a "No" vote doesn't make sense, the republicans still attack you while your base sits on their hands because of your abject cowardice.

I should have seen this coming though. Right after Glenn Nye was elected he claimed that the President being at the top of the ticket didn't help him get elected because Obama didn't win his particular district. Its tortured logic like that that should have let me in on who Glenn Nye really is, my most regrettable vote to date.

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

Why the White House is Smart to Take on FOX

I don't know if this is prevalent in other cultures, I've mostly seen black folks do it as of late - but the one thing that I hate more than black republicans or extremely toothy blowjobs is a person who passionately defends an artist that they like by simply noting the size of their bank account. Let me give you an example. I'm of the firm belief that Tyler Perry's movies are cinematic poison. Even though I don't wish any physical harm on the director, for all I know he has a heart that should qualify him for Sainthood, but the gruesome things that I want to do to people who incessantly gush over his extremely shitty movies would scare the shit out of Stephen King. Stereotypical characters. Phoned in storylines. Cringeworthy dialogue. A black man in a goddamn dress. I'd really have to dedicate a blog series to accurately cite every reason I loathe the creative vision of Tyler Perry. Whenever I've expressed said disdain whether online or in every day conversions, the winning retort that I usually find myself on the business end of goes like this: "Yeah, but he's making money!!" You also get the same clumsy response when you criticize some monosyllabic rapper with a limited world view that they happen to be a fan of. Forget about the substantive gripes that you may have, from sub par lyricism to the fact that said artist happens to be a new millennium minstrel act, the fact that he/she never has to look at a price tag again is supposed to easily thwart all of your artsy fartsy critiques.

I'm only highlighting my least favorite defense of substandard artistry because Rupert Murdock reminded me of it recently when he pointed to FOX's increased ratings after he was asked about the White House taking on his News channel. Tyler Perry's vast fortune doesn't address the piss poor craftsmanship of his movies, a rapper who can pawn his platinum chain collection and singlehandedly pay for sufficient Health Care reform doesn't negate his mindnumbingly wack lyrics - and Rupert Murdoch pointing to an increase in ratings due to FOX's back and forth with the White House doesn't fundamentally answer their claim that they aren't a legitimate news channel. Besides, the White House could care less if they help FOX News get 10 Million more viewers, because their attack on FOX really isn't about FOX.

The White House doesn't have to look any further than that last Democratic Presidential Debate that ABC's George Stephanopoulos and Charles Gibson hosted to know how quickly right wing smears can infiltrate the mainstream media. People forget that it took both moderators 52 minutes to ask anything resembling a substantive question, most of the time was allotted to silly shit like Flagpins, Reverend Wright, and William Ayers. Stephanopoulos was basically a puppet for the right wing in that debate with Sean Hannity and Steve Malzberg pulling the proverbial strings - being that both men personally urged him to ask about William Ayers when he was on their respective shows. We also can't forget that Reverend Wright was a personal fetish of Sean Hannity's months before the mainstream media finally bowed to right wing finger wagging and started covering it, yet another example of the national discourse being sullied by the mainstream media taking its cues from FOX. Remember the Democratic Presidential Debate between Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama that Tim Russert moderated? I'm sure the White House does. That was a debate where the sorely missed Russert not only asked Obama about Reverend Wright, but didn't seem to accept a clear word like "Denounce" when grilling him on Minister Louis Farrakhan. Undoubtedly more right wing influence.

Listen, that was only a small example of how right wing meems seeped into all facets of the press during the campaign season, if you are an ardent watcher of the news like I am then you know that that sort thing happens all the time. (See Czars, "Enemies lists", "Death Panels") The White House knows this all too well. Their attack on FOX isn't about them "whining", something that many intellectually lazy writers have accused them of. Their attack on FOX isn't about garden variety pushback, they know that the bottom feeders over there will continuously call him everything from a Communist to a puppy torturer no matter how much they fight back. The White House tapping FOX News on the proverbial shoulder and asking them to "step outside" is more about shaming all the other news outlets who from this point forward proceed to regurgitate their horseshit smears as if it were legitimate news. It's an extremely smart tactic. I can totally imagine, after 6 more months of saying that FOX "isn't really a news network", some White House official sarcastically prefacing their answer to someone at CNN with, "Wow, that's a FOX News question.." Its a great way of marginalizing FOX while rhetorically wrapping legitimate news organizations on the wrists for clumsily reporting smears. This is a brilliant strategy, please keep it up.

Friday, October 16, 2009

How an unrepentant Asshole would improve VH1 Hip Hop Honors

When it comes my history of relationships, being an asshole hasn't exactly served me well - I'm single, 36, childless, and the only chicks who want to fuck me are either nuttier than squirrel shit or have vaginas so weathered that they resemble your grandfather's extremely weathered catchers mitt. When you are an insufferable prick, meeting new people often turns disastrous. Just last week I was chatting up a woman at a bar, a rather standard conversation where a solitary sexual advance was nowhere to be found - so you can imagine my disgust when the young lady said, "I hope you're not hitting on me, I'd never date a black guy!" In which I responded, "You are a chubby white woman, without black men you have no viable options!" I've lost a lot of friends because of my tactless nature: Literally hogtying a friend who refused to go to rehab - punching a wedding DJ who had the audacity to play "The Electric Slide" - telling a gay guy that my friend wanted to blow him, only to underline the fact that my boy was already sucking dick every time he tongue kissed his cheating wife - bringing a bottle of Jack Daniels to the "1 year Sobriety Party" that my friend threw for his father - getting a drunken blowjob by a friend's mom at her birthday party and justifying it by saying "You're adopted, I would never had done that if it was your blood mother! I'm not an animal, Geez!" Real asshole shit that I regret.

But when it comes to Hip Hop I have no regrets concerning behavior that I'm sure most sane people would probably find utterly reprehensible. Just look at me as a portly, alcoholic superhero who uses his powers for good and not evil - belligerently calling out all the bullshit in Hip Hop for the betterment of the Culture as a whole. For the sake of the culture that I hold dear, I've nonchalantly thrown CD's out of my car for distance no matter how much my passenger paid for or loved said banality. I've eagerly wanted to meet MC's with third grade vocabulary levels just so I could tell them how much they sucked to their faces. I couldn't tell you how many times I've left monosyllabic rappers with platinum encrusted smiles hanging as I turned my back on them while posing in my toughest B-Boy stance. Friends of mine stopped asking me to critique their music because more times that not I barraged them with armchair micromanagement: "Why did you say that there?" - "That simile didn't make any fucking sense!" - "Who's singing that chorus? It sounds like a chicken getting strangled, or two goats fucking" - "You should really go solo, the other guys in your group can't rap for shit". Yes, I can be a steaming pile of shit when I want to be, but its for the good of Hip Hop. Sincerely.

That said, even though I thought that the good folks over at VH1 did a serviceable enough job with this years Hip Hop Honors - they'd agree that there is always room for improvement. Even though my advice for improving Hip Hop Honors programs will be in the form of sarcasm and overall assholery, just know that its coming from an extremely good place.

No More Tracy Morgan: I loved Tracy Morgan when he was "Hustleman" on "Martin". Even though my pride as a black man wants me to resist any character that perpetuates the "Crazy black man" stereotype, he is great on "30 Rock". But left up to his own devices, when a team of writers aren't carefully crafting every syllables that exits his mandible, Mr. Morgan is painfully unfunny. You would have thought that VH1 learned their lesson when Tracy Morgan hosted Hip Hop Honors last year: Cringeworthy skits that seemed to go on forever and even irritate the extras that were in them, a standup routine that reminded me that I found my father's wake more chuckleworthy. The mere fact that VH1 had him back this year either means that VH1 is tone-deaf comically, or they always get Tracy Morgan on the cheap. For Christs sakes VH1, if you can't find someone who loves Hip Hop and has the comedy chops to host an award show - at least get a quality actor who loves Hip Hop to simply play the damn thing straight. (See: Mekhi Phifer, Michael Rapaport, etc)

Have the Roots Play the entire show: The Roots are the hardest working men in show business. Between their nightly gig on "Late Night with Jimmy Fallon", playing their own gigs, and constantly creating new music - I'm sure those gentlemen barely get a moment to themselves. That's why its important for VH1 to lock them down a year in advance. I mean, I like "Onyx" well enough, not their biggest fan - but to hear Gym Class Heroes damn near make "Slam" unrecognizable was blasphemous at best. Again, book the Roots for the whole goddamn show.

No more washed up Rockers: Regardless of what race you are, you always knew that it suddenly became uncool to like a Hip Hop song the moment your local white Top 40 radio station got a hold of it. The opposite seems to be true when it comes to the Hip Hop aficionados who put on these shows, because they apparently are the last ones to know when a rock artist needs to be sent to the proverbial glue factory. Kid Rock? Really? Gym Class Heroes are so 2006, and I didn't like their ass then.(Disclaimer: Outside of Zack de la Rocha, I never gave 2 shits for the Rap/Rock genre) The mere fact that they would recruit such milquetoast "rockers" to pay tribute to Hip Hop stars of years past is rather condescending to the many of us who love that real rock shit. Its sort of like being racially profiled by your own people. I grew up on Bad Brains, don't fuck with me.

Its Pre-taped for a reason: Maybe I'm too much of a snob, but I always find it highly offensive when some artist paying tribute to an honoree horrible flubs lines during their performance. I hate to armchair MC here, but out of respect for the musical act being honored and just for ooverall professionalism sake - as soon as VH1 called me I'd be feverishly studying the lyrics I was set to perform like it was a fucking SAT exam. I know mistakes happen, but there really is no excuse for butchering classic Hip Hop lyrics like I've seen done at pretty much every Hip Hop Honor program. (KRS, you are a legend, but you should be ashamed. You couldn't get "No Sleep Till Brooklyn" right? Really?) Anyway, to combat that, all VH1 has to do whenever someone mangles a verse that most of us can recite backwards is simply have everyone start over. Its not like its live, the crowd can act like its the first time they've heard it. Its not hard.

Monday, October 12, 2009

Helping America become post racial, one brutal beating at a time: Episode Three

Even though my dating history is a sordid one, mostly a dismal collection of brief sexual encounters where being an emotional cripple with a bed that becomes a proverbial ejector seat as soon as I ejaculate halts any possible prospective relationships - it would make perfect sense that my favorite "girlfriend" just happened to be a therapist. The level of catharsis you feel when dating a mental health professional is unparalleled. I mean, outside of admitting that you have dismembered bodies of miscellaneous strippers buried in your backyard, you can pretty much unload some of your deepest and darkest secrets without them so much as batting an eye - something I usually did post coitus by the way. My penchant for penetrating low self esteem having women in church buildings almost provoked shrugs from her. Pushing a wheelchair bound man into traffic? Her beautiful stare was unchanged. Headbutting a clergy member, getting a handjob from a girlfriend's mother at a wedding, tossing a rather lippy midget on to a bar roof, pushing an entire book shelf on someone at a public library, threatening to publicly waterboard an old man who snaked my parking spot. Incidents that would usually repulse most people were met with indifference from a head shrinker who was desensitized from all the certifiable shit smearing psychopaths she had previously treated. Sure, I knew that she was probably using me as her personal take home assignment, but I fully embraced it. Shit, it wasn't the first time I fucked my therapist.

Between all the deviant sex and my unsuccessful attempts to score some prescription medication from her, she did uncover something about me that had never crossed my mind before. She concluded, because of my father's verbal bullying that I was constantly on the business end of, that many of my physical altercations that I had been a part of over the years were a direct result of me trying to right that particular wrong. I never thought about it before, but a large percentage of the throatchops that I have mercilessly administered to some asshole's larynx were indeed born out of me sticking up for someone. I'm sure if I was still with her she'd come to the same conclusion about my violent defenses of President Obama as well.

I mean, this may anger all the pseudo-militants out there that I'm constantly coming in contact with: Armchair revolutionaries who spend their time viewing President Obama as an "Uncle Tom" simply because of his job title or because he isn't spreading the teachings of Marcus Garvey. Ridiculous child-like giggle provokers who naively view him serving Americans as a whole as an affront to the Black Community. The same intellectual knuckle-draggers who incessantly try to push "The Obama Deception" on me as it was a motherfucking "Watchtower", fake ass "Michael" from "Good Times" wannabees, feverishly masturbate to Dead Prez records on your own goddamn time. With the racism directed at the President in the form of blatant disrespect. Racism in the form of citizenship questions. Racism in the form of assassination dogwhistles. Racism in the form of daily manufactured outrage. Please get this through your kufi's, I'll have the President's back way before I'll ever have yours. Shit, even if I wasn't a supporter of his policies I still may have his back based on all the bigots that are out to get him.

"Don't spray me bro!": When you live around as many knuckle dragging savages as I do, drooling lunatics with racial attitudes so backwards that you are certain that they were recently thawed out from their cryogenically frozen state that they've been in since 1944 - a common occurrence is getting extremely dirty looks from fellow motorists simply because an Obama sticker is on your bumper. Seriously, you would have thought I had a ringing endorsement of necrophilia on my car, or puppy torture. Usually I respond to such hostile grimaces with utter civility: The one finger salute, screaming "What the fuck are you looking at you goddamn Hillbilly?!", or threatening to beat them within an inch of an amnesiac state. So when a young couple in their early 20's decided to flash me the icegrill from stoplight to stoplight, I didn't find anything strange in what I felt was pretty much par for the course. But the constant pulling up beside me? Tailgating? - I'm constantly amazed how threatened some white people are by possibly the least threatening black man that has ever existed. Anyway, when I ran into rush hour traffic, the young couple found themselves behind yours truly. You know that feeling you get when something is about to happen, like a fight is about to break out at a club or Mary J Blige is about to give an interview where she doesn't depress the shit out of you. Well something was in the air, and my instincts proved to be right as I glanced in my rear view mirror and saw the young couple carefully exiting their car and approaching mine.

Because the only beating I do on a female involves premature ejaculatory pelvic thrusts, I grabbed the pepper spray that I purchased for my mother and proceeded to the back of my car where I found the both them attempting to take my Obama sticker off of my car. To sell the altercation to curious onlookers, I screamed with an Academy Award winning panic "What in the world are you doing to my car?" - before mercilessly spraying the shit out of what I perceived to be raging rednecks. As they both writhed around in anguish, invoking the name of our heavenly father, pleading for help - I realized that I'd be a perfect Abu Ghraib guard because I simply didn't give two shits about the excruciating pain that they were in. Immediately a cop showed up and I, along with some of the onlookers that I performed for, told the cop exactly what happened. I even topped off my acting tour de force by nervously exclaiming, "Sir, I was scared for my life! I saw those two approaching my car and I didn't know what to do. I just want to go home and hug my children!" Everything turned out fine and the cop let me go, but I had the sneaking feeling that he didn't believe me - and I'm sure the wink that I gave him before I entered my car didn't ease his suspicions any either.

My Thoughts on "Zombieland"

When you're are a latchkey kid you have an inordinate amount of time on your hands. Either my countless hours home alone were spent rifling through my father's closet looking for some dated pornography where the actresses had bushy Afros in two locations, dancing to my old man's blues albums with the grace of two drunk monkeys fucking, or watching every Zombie themed movie that I could get my chubby little hands on. Something about the forced camaraderie brought on by the scores of meandering undead wanting to chow down on your entrails has always intrigued me. The sheer paranoia that sets in every time one of the uninfected gets one solitary moment of peace. For the sake of not becoming a walking cadaver that sporadically lets out inaudible moans, complete strangers from all walks of life are forced to trust one another. But most of all, I've always been drawn to the shitloads of creatively brutal ways one could dispatch nasty apocalyptic feeders. As a kid with an imagination rivaling the amount of alone time that I had after school, Zombie movies were right up my alley - and ever since then I've been crafting the perfect Zombie movie in my head. Sure, I've been mentally editing said flick for at least 30 years, but these particular components have remained the same: Non stop gratuitous violence, the right amount of campy-ness, and an inordinate amount of obscure Hip Hop references thrown in for good measure(If I was a film maker I always assumed that that would be my trademark)

So you can just imagine my excitement when "Zombieland" came out. I mean, I knew there wouldn't be a Hip Hop reference to be found, but it definitely seemed to be a movie that winked at you while mercilessly bashing Zombie skulls in. Was this indeed the movie that I've been making in my head since the Reagan administration? Well, Yes and No. There is indeed a good amount of comedy mixed in with a tale about lone survivors of a post apocalyptic world banning together. Tongue is securely planted in cheek as our heroes put holes through ornery flesh eaters while searching for other uninfected people. Woody Harrelson once again proved that he's a master at, well, playing himself. Jessie Eisenberg's "quirky guy" shtick worked masterfully for a character who meticulously created a list of steps on staying alive.(Lets just hope that he's never in a movie with Michael Cera, because audiences everywhere would overdose in nervousness) Emma Stone and Abigail Breslin didn't exactly blow my skirt up, but they did a serviceable enough job playing sisters killing and conning their way to safety. Overall I liked the movie. The camp was there and the violence was there, my only beef with the movie is that there wasn't enough of either one. At a brisk 80 minutes, they should have cut some dialogue and concentrated on satisfying my blood lust while being a complete dick about it - or simply making the thing at least a half hour longer. Maybe "Shawn of the Dead" spoiled me? Or maybe its just impossible to compete with a movie that I've been making in my head for the better part of three decades.

Saturday, October 03, 2009

Conservatives love reminding me of my dead father

This may be sound a bit hyperbolic, but I can't control the exact feeling that I had when I saw these right wingers applaud the news of Chicago losing its Olympic bid. Yesterday when I saw this video, along with the scores of utterly reprehensible conservatives doing proverbial endzone dances because they perceived the failed bid as an Obama loss - I immediately thought about a story that my father told me that breaks my heart every time I think about it. The three times that I saw my father cry had nothing to do with a joyous occasion, a tearjerker of a movie, not even the cancer that took his life. Salty tears flowed down my old man's trademark beard stubbled face every time he struggled to tell a painful story about returning to his Navy ship to find his shipmates literally celebrating the death of John F Kennedy. Living through Jim Crow South Carolina, seeing people he knew personally hung until their necks snapped, horrors of that magnitude paled in comparison after he came face to face with inherent evil that day on the Naval Fighting Ship that he called home for most of the year.

I'm not saying that the conservatives who celebrated Chicago losing its Olympic bid yesterday wish death on our President, or that they would openly celebrate his untimely passing if that were to happen. But the unadulterated hate for Obama that I witnessed yesterday, his Presidency thus far for that matter, too frequently reminds me of my father's emotional Kryptonite. That's all.

Monday, September 28, 2009

GRITtv with Laura Flanders: Janeane Garofalo, Max Blumenthal, Kai Wright

Janeane Garofalo, holding it down as usual. This bares repeating: I have a huge crush on Ms. Garofalo, so much so that hearing 20 million teeth sucking sounds for the rest of my life by irate black woman(who probably wouldn't piss on me if I was on fire anyway) would be worth it if I could spend it with the acerbic comedian. Granted, my binge drinking wouldn't go over too well(she's a recovering alcoholic), but I'm sure that we could work something out.

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

Lieutenant Carter, providing much needed cover fire

Providing cover fire. Setting a pick. Taking a pitch for the team. Whatever analogy you want to use, that is exactly what I thought Jimmy Carter was doing last week when he called out some of the garden variety racism being directed at President Obama. Despite the outstanding humanitarian work he's done since leaving the White House, President Carter knows that people look at his presidency as a less than stellar one. He also knew that the consequence of him speaking out on the racial toxicity our Commander in Chief was on the business end of would instantly turn him into a low hanging pinata to his detractors on the right. But the man who served as our 39th President knew something had to be done and he didn't care if it meant sacrificing himself in the process.

For the longest time the mainstream media overcompensates as a result of right wing criticisms, the same way a black police officer might mistreat a civilian of the same skin tone to prove that he isn't giving anyone preferential treatment, and I'd be damned if the last 8 months hasn't been exactly that. Definitely a case study in overcompensation as sentiments from the highly questionable to flat out racism were clumsily being treated as legitimate opposition: A dirty broad from Russia(A reader corrected me, she's from Moldova. I already know too much about that shitheel) of all places questioning the President's citizenship and the legions of tin-hatted glass lickers who gleefully follow her lead, unfortunately treated as a "Conspiracy theory" and not the blatant racism that it actually was. Uneducated townhallers saying "I was my country back", a racial dogwhistle usually prefacing some regurgitated smear in the form of a question - pundits of every political stripe treated the miscellaneous authors of said belligerence as if they were simply a "concern citizen" voicing a standard inquiry. Of course the "socialism" charges being leveled at Obama are ridiculous on their face considering that said detractors usually have no problems with roads, firefighters, and medicare - but it has a racial component to it when the person saying it doesn't know what it means and says it like an epithet. The signs of Obama as Hitler. The signs of Obama as a member of al qaeda. The assholes coming to health care townhalls strapped. Because of Jimmy Carter, last week was the first time in Barack Obama's young presidency that I heard anyone outside of Keith Olbermann and Rachel Maddow even openly wonder if racism was indeed a factor.

In a move that will disappoint all the armchair revolutionaries out there, the same black folks who incessantly try to divide and conquer African American supporters of the president simply because Barack Obama isn't channeling the spirit of Huey Newton - the President was correct in disagreeing with Carter about the rampant racism. Sure, he sees the racism, but the Commander in Chief has to be above the fray. Besides, its politically smart, the moment he characterizes anyone as "racist" he will be painted as insensitively smearing hard working Americans with legitimate concerns. Carter's concerns forced the media to seriously look into something that had been angering the rest of us for months, allowing the President to act above it all. Like I said, cover fire.

Tuesday, September 08, 2009

Dude, I think I just got threatened by Rohan Marley..

A little more than two years ago when I was in Vibe.com's employ, I wrote a piece entitled "Rohan Marley - The New Millennium Yoko Ono". Even if you haven't read the piece I'm sure that you gathered from the title that I took Mr. Marley to task for being a shiftless layabout whose only discernible skills were cashing in on his father's good name and throwing the proverbial monkey-wrench into Lauryn Hill's career. Of course the piece was a bit tongue in cheek, but the rhetorical gymnastics and my misguided attempts at humor aside - I still hold the strong belief that Lauryn Hill's career would be in an entirely different stratosphere if she had never fallen victim to Mr. Marley's evil clutches. As much as I covet MC's like MC Lyte and Sha-Rock, if Lauryn's career had continued on the same trajectory it was on after "The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill", there wouldn't be a question in my mind as to who the best Female MC of All Time was. I know the trappings of fame can be a ruthless bitch. That unrepentant harlot has driven her stilettos into the hearts of many great artists since the beginning of time. But I don't think that's the case here. Rohan Marley is the foundation that all of Ms. Hill's problems as I see it rests on, nothing can convince me otherwise. All roads lead to the man I referred to as "The New Millennium Yoko Ono", possibly one of the only people on earth you'll find with skills less marketble than Paris Hilton or Kim Kardashian.

The only reason I'm bashing the one man, career ending wrecking crew is because of a rather cryptic email that I received last week from a gentleman that calls himself "Rohan Marley". The aforementioned email states the following: "We should meet up one day..I think we have somethings to address.." Not for nothing, but you don't have to be a C.I.A code cracker to know that said emailer probably doesn't want to discuss the public option with me.(But if I read it wrong and he wants to engage in civil discourse, at least our penchant for clumsily using ellipses will be a great conversation starter.)

Listen, I'm well aware that I'm dealing with the internet here, a place where anonymity affords you the luxury of expressing which FOX News personality you would like to tie an anchor around and throw into the deepest body of water you can find. Which actresses and seductive songstresses are so hot that you'd gleefully drink their bath water, be willing to eat food out of their less desirable orifice. For all I know some incensed Rohan Marley fan(They exist? Really?) finished reading my Vibe.com post and created a email account to toss veiled threats at yours truly. I have no particular quarrel with that theory, that may indeed be the case. But due to my extensive reporting(a search that took 2 seconds tops), it lead me a dummy myspace account that coincidentally was last logged on to around the same time his current myspace account was activated. Not exactly smoking gun evidence, and not exactly Woodward and Bernstein type of reporting.

That said, I like to cover all my bases here at The NappyDiatribe. Rohan, if you are reading this, as a veteran of more bar fights than I'd like to remember - I'll spare you the tough guy rhetoric that I'm so well versed in. Threatening to throatchop the shit out of you in the most public of venues, suggesting that your diet will consist of nothing but jell-o and applesauce after a chance meeting with me, respectfully telling you that I posses a forearm that will make you backflip if any variety of clothesline is involved - all of those tough guy overtures come across as shrug-worthy wolf tickets in an age where 70% of insecure wordsmiths fabricate their rather milquetoast backgrounds. Lets embrace civility and meet up for real, maybe we can discuss you releasing Lauryn from your evil spell so she can fimally get back to making great music again. If I have to play the hostage negotiate on some Kevin Spacey shit, then so be it. If have to get my Ralph Machio on, and possibly freestyle battle your dumb ass at the crossroads so Lauryn's soul will be hers again, I'm down with that too.

But if we happen to exhaust those peaceful options, I'll just have to resort to.. Well.. Don't let the fact that I have a blog where I constantly talk about the sub par women that I penetrate fool you.

Nutty Black Conservative Watch

For the longest time I thought the absolute worst of Black Conservatives, until a few of my conservative brothers and sisters sat me down and very thoughtfully and thoroughly broke down the reasons why they were in facr=t conservatives. Even though the civil discourse that day did nothing in terms of swaying me politically, I respected what they had to say - and I felt that my lifelong assumption that every republican with melanin were nothing but shuffling Uncle Toms was an awfully unfair, kneejerk assessment. But after witnessing the gutter tactics of a McCain campaign that toiled in dogwhistle politics, the foaming at the mouth racists at Palin rallies where cries of "Kill Him" started to become old hat, I couldn't see how any self respecting black person, republican or not, could support such a ticket. But many still did, and many still continue to completely co-sign extremely questionable G.O.P tactics and those of the extreme fringe that make me seriously rethink my conservative induced epiphany that I had with those reasonable black conservatives. So every now and then I will document viral lunacy, nutty as squirrel shit black republicans with youtube accounts. This is the first installment of "Nutty Black Conservative Watch"

"The Gilberts"

I know it would be rather unseemly for me to attack children on this blog, that's why I have no intention of doing so, my target today is the father of the children in this video - a man named Bruce Gilbert(seen at 2:27 of this video). Because I'm a glutton for punishment(I have a habit of trolling youtube and twitter for garden variety hatred), I've been aware of this family of seven from Easton, Pennsylvania for more than a year now. My problem with Mr. Gilbert isn't that he's a black conservative, my problem with him is that its obvious by the all the clumsy edits and his children referencing The Employee Free Choice Act and Saul Alinski of all people - that he is forcing his twisted politics down his the impressionable throats of his kids. To use his kids in that manner is pure cowardice. Hell, giving their youtube page a quick lookover will have you openly wondering where in the hell social services are. You'll find everything from the disturbing, like Bruce making his kids wade into birtherism, to just sheer pettiness. Shit, under the "favorites" section of their youtube page they actually have an interview with that dipshit who carried a gun at that New Hampshire townhall speech. Jesus Christ man. I view self hating black people of Mr. Gilbert's magnitude the same way I view most strippers: There had to have been some extremely painful event or lack of love that has turned them into the person they are today. I'm suddenly forced to quote Nas in "Ether": "Were you abused as a child, scared to smile, they called you ugly?"

Anyway, the video above is Mr. Gilbert forcing his kids to clumsily celebrate the fact that their school district decided not to screen Obama's extremely scary "stay in school" message. Nutty Fucking Black Conservatives indeed.

President Obama’s stay-in-school speech (full video and transcript)

Like I said on twitter earlier, as I watched this speech I suddenly wanted to mercilessly beat all the parents who kept their kids home today with a pillowcase full of sodas. The opposition to the speech was nothing but straight up racism, I really wish the media would stop playing referee with these people.

Friday, September 04, 2009

Hey Keith, fuck you and the primary challenger you rode in on

On the night of November 4th 2008, as I saw images from around the world of complete strangers embracing while emptying their respective tear ducts, the one emotion that I was overcome with on that memorable night was relief. Sure, I was relieved that the man that I fully supported, constantly defended, canvassed and mercilessly beat peoples asses for - had finally captured the highest office in the land. But after almost two years of hyperventilating, incessant handwringing, armchair quarterbacking Team Obama at every turn, cursing Hillary Clinton's good name and wishing bad things happened to Mark Penn, absolutely loathing Bill Clinton, the sleaziness of the McCain campaign that made my skin crawl, the intense anger I felt every time Sarah Palin had one of her Hitler Youth rallies - I was relieved that finally my blood pressure raising nightmare was over. Boy was I naive. The Primaries and the general election were Shiatsu rubdowns compared to what has been going on since the President and his family took up residence at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.

We knew that the Republicans would reflexively be against anything Barack Obama proposed, that's not exactly a news bulletin. But all of the outright racism that has been reported on as legitimate American dissent makes me want to club someone to death with a pillowcase full of sodas. Succession, angry townhallers who preface their misinformed diatribes with "I want my country back", bigoted parents willing to pull their children out of school for what has been characterized as an Obama "kids stay in school" address, the cries of "socialist" and "marxist" that actually happen to be the new millennium version of "nigger", assholes with guns at health care townhalls.. What does a guy have to do nowadays to be called a racist? I'm sure someone wearing a klan outfit while burning President Obama in effigy would simply invoke some clumsy false equivalency by the likes of Joe Scarborough, citing some code pink member or something.

But even the racism, to some extent, was expected. But what I didn't expect was all the liberals acting as if their best friend just sodomized their girlfriend's right in front of them every time the Commander in Chief didn't do everything that they wanted. Jesus Christ man. Look, of course we should hold the President accountable, we can't be like the republicans who gave Bush a blank check for 8 longs years. I openly disagree with his bi-partisan fetish, the continued use of Blackwater, rendition, a number of issues. But ever since Barack Obama had Pastor Rick Warren give the invocation at the inauguration, people's moping, their "Santa Claus is really daddy!!" discontent, the "I'm going to take my ball and go home" rhetoric - is both immature and extremely petulant. That said, nothing has shined a light on said petulance like the behavior of liberals during this Health Care debate.

Listen, I want a public option, and I feel that a bill without it isn't really reform. But the histrionics from progressives and liberal commentators alike has been nothing but vomit inducing. Incessantly dissecting every random statement concerning the public option, like Cenk Uygur did in this video, isn't helping anyone. Statements from lawmakers on the subject are absolutely useless, since it seems that the whitehouse is treating them like Mushrooms(feeding them shit, keeping them in the dark. See: "The Departed"), and statements from any WH official are useless as well, they aren't trying to tip their proverbial hand. My opinion is lets hold off on the ritualistic mass suicide until we see what a final bill looks like.

Which brings me to Keith Olbermann floating the idea of a Primary Challenger to Obama in 2012. Sure, he would probably say, if asked, that he himself wasn't suggesting it - only that he was guessing what the reaction of progressives would be if there were no public option. But since this is the first time I've heard of such lunacy, I'm forcefully putting that blissfully belligerent albatross around Mr. Olbermann's neck. That said, even though I know that Olbermann's veiled threat is a rather empty one - I would love to see someone take heed to his desire to cause irrevocable damage to the Democratic party and challenge Obama in a primary. Nothing says disaffected black voters like calling for a Primary Challenger 8 months into an administration based on a final Health Care bill that no one has fucking seen yet. Talk about cutting off your nose to spite your face: "That will show Obama, we beat him in a primary only to be forcefully sodomized without a complimentary reach around in a general election by a politician who makes George W Bush look like Janeane Garofalo. Wait.." I'm saying, I don't think its unreasonable to suggest that calls for primary challengers are a bit premature at this juncture. So Keith, to obscenely paraphrase a famous republican actor: "Make my motherfucking day!"

Monday, August 31, 2009

Why We Need Government-Run Universal Socialized Health Insurance

With all the misinformation out there, and the shocking amount of drooling lunatics in this country who believe everything hamfistedly clumsy politicians named Grassley and DeMint tell them - its this writers firm belief that "School House Rock" needs to be brought back strictly for adults. Watching so many incoherent malcontents at these townhalls, its safe to say that civics was never their strongest subject in High School. Check out this illustration, a concise video that really breaks why we need Government run Health Care - its simple enough for a Jim DeMint constituent to understand.

Saturday, August 22, 2009

The Rotten Tomatoes Show

If you are as much of a movie nerd as I am, sometimes even quoting obscure movies in daily conversations and getting off on the fact that that person's mind is too feeble to ever expose you - for Christs sake check out The Rotten Tomatoes Show. Funny, informative, sarcastic - watching it is the closest you'll get to fucking Janeane Garofalo. If you have CurrentTv, it comes on every Thrursday at 10:30 PM Eastern time.

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

Nothing signals the apocalypse like me tiring of porn

For anyone whose parents talked to them about the birds and bees, I can just imagine a sweating and stammering mom or dad desperately trying to mask their frustration over the tediousness of using clinical terms when words like "cum" and "Cornhole" would have easily sufficed - I, unfortunately, never had that awkward bonding experience that scars most people for their rest of their lives. As blunt and straightforward as my mother is now, attempting to take on a topic like sex back when I was a prepubescent was the furthest thing from her mind. Ever since she caught me stroking our next door neighbor's legs when I was a toddler, a spunky pre-teen named Shelly who was whiter than a republican convention, I guess she felt that any informative sex discussion at that juncture would possibly wake some sleeping deviant inside me. My father on the other hand talked about "pussy" so often, his rhetorical flourishes about the beloved vagina would make both gynecologists and longshormen blush - he probably thought that his tales of overseas perversion served as proverbial cliffs notes to his young son ignorant in the ways of punany slaying. To be quite honest with you, I got my first introduction into the wonderful world of sex from all the 70's era porn tapes that I swindled out of my father's closet.

Because those dated tapes played the mentoring Yoda role to my shrug-worthy Padawan on a penis, I still struggle with some sexual quirks to this day. For example: 1)I sometimes don't mind a woman who can easily style her public hair. 2) I sometimes require a woman on the business end of my unimpressive penis to hold up a fist and say "Power to the people" as soon as I ejaculate. 3) I can't maintain an erection unless nondescript funk music is playing in the background. I'm dead ass serious.

To be quite honest, my lifelong affection for pornography as a whole has inspired some pretty eyebrow raising behavior in general from your favorite blogger's favorite blogger. For one thing, I know the government names of my favorite erotic actresses, which is creepy enough. Also, I keep accurate baseball card-like statistics in my head about ever seductive temptress that I've ever jerked it to: "She's real lazy, has a trick left knee and boring sex banter - but she can suck a basketball through a straw!" Lets just say that I had a serious addiction. At least that was until recently.

Maybe its just me getting older, but seeing a woman getting filled out like an application no longer has the same appeal. I don't find myself mercilessly stroking it to weird porn titles like "Dyslexic Asain Midgets" anymore. At one time I had a collection of pornographic filth so vast that when I opened up the cabinet doors an extremely bright light and a chorus of angels singing would burst through the doors. Unfortunately, those special effects started malfunctioning a while ago. Here are a few reasons why I have completely soured on porn.

The unnecessary back-stories: Granted, most storylines in your standard porn movie is of the pedestrian variety - usually having something to do with a horny gentleman equipped with a camera who happens to find a perfect stranger willing to fuck him in a van. A maid of Spanish decent who is willing to blow an occupant of the hotel she works at for a few extra greenbacks. Touching tales about a guy's best friend's mother letting him fuck her god forsaken tits off. Standard porn stuff. But I guess the writer in me finds this stuff intellectually insulting, and the raging pervert in me finds the entire charade of a storyline a considerable waste of time. That's probably why I could never be a porn director: Every scene would be purely sex, no dialogue - and if some disgruntled actress came up to me and asked for some lines to deliver, I'd give her an entire booklet with a shitload of "ooohs" and "ahhh" attributed to her name.

The pre-sex interview: I never found anything wrong with the pre-sex interview before now, where the cameraman asks the woman about to get stuffed like a Twinkie some pretty intimate questions. Of course I'm aware that many of the answers the woman gives are fictitious, verbal fluffery about her first sexual experience that gets the viewer even more excited about the prospect of her having fresh produce shoved up a miscellaneous orifice. But now that I'm older, interview answers about broken homes, the prostituting mother, abusive father, pre-teen sexual experiences - it just makes me extremely sad and depressed, even if the claims are fictitious. Talk about a major boner shrinker.

Three's a motherfucking crowd: The reason why I don't have any "..and then me and my homeboy started fucking the shit out that chick" stories is because when I have sex, I don't want another penis within a square mile of my own. Maybe its because I'm a germaphobe, but any time one of my friends ever invited me to consensually ravage some low self esteem having woman simultaneously I always politely declined - and then proceeded to vomit inside my own mouth. Its weird that I never felt the same way about porn until now, but I do. I'm not homophobic, but there is something inherently gay about two penises being in such close proximity - regardless if they're both inside a woman or not. Even in some cases, when the woman wants to pull off something that I call "The double Dizzy Gillespie", the two men in question actually crossing swords. Yuck.

Now if I can only stop giving preferential treatment to strippers on my backseat, or get rid of the glory hole in my house - I'll be completely cured.

Does anyone remember this picture?

As someone who still nurses two bandaged dick beaters from all the hand-wringing I was doing during the Democratic Primaries, there are two lessons that I learned about our current President. 1) Never underestimate him. 2) Media memes about him are usually dead wrong. Look, I want a robust public option as much as the next guy - but the incessant hair pulling, hand-wringing histrionics, "the sky is falling" scenarios, adrenaline fueled melodrama - all of that shit isn't helping anyone. Ed Schultz basically called Barack Obama a pussy a couple of days ago. I love Rachel Maddow, but you could lubricate a car engine with the sarcastic smarmyness that oozed out of her body as she petulantly declared the Public Option "Dead". The same clumsy kneejerk defeatism came from Keith Olbermann as well, I'm just surprised that he didn't utter his go to line: "This isn't change we can believe in"(Thanks for the restraint Keith) Don't get it twisted, we should always hold this president accountable, no one is talking about giving him a blank check like the Republicans gave Bush. But the "I'm taking my ball and going home" approach people shamelessly display every time this president does something that they disagree with exposes both their immaturity and cowardice. Yesterday on twitter I recalled a conversation that I had with my mother where I said that Barack Obama was going to get "Ty Willingham-ed" - every solitary move that the man made would be hyperventilated over by friend and foe alike.

Look, a health care bill without the public option is not reform, there is no doubt about that in my mind. But I'm not going to scream my fucking tonsils out just because people at the White House gave themselves rhetorical wiggle room like most politicians do. Oh the horror.

Indulge me for a minute: Just think about how we're(yes, I fall victim to this too) always Retweeting stories about the obstructionist language of some prominent republican, or how the insurance companies have a certain democrat in their swollen pockets. We scream to the high heavens and give the White House our best "What the fuck" look. But do you think for a minute that they're unaware of what an utter dickhead Chuck Grassley is, or how Max Baucus is bought and paid for? Come on, of course they're aware of this. For all we know their penchant for acting as if the public option is in peril could just be another case of Obama's political jiu jitsu. A coordinated effort to whip up a base that has been plagued with complacency, and rile up all of the obstinate arm folders still pissed that the President hasn't addressing their pet issue fast enough. Who knows, we'll see. Until then, chill the fuck out already!

DJ Premier vs. DJ Scratch in Red Hook (Video)

Hat-Tip to Miss Shuga for finding a better quality video.

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

Anthony Weiner takes Joe Scarborough to the woodshed

People who know me, read this blog, the women who are fortunate enough to be there as I sexually underachieve on top of them, my twitter peeps - all understand that the hatred that I have for Joe Scarborough runs deeper than Sasquatch vagina. As detestable as Joe Scarborough the man is, my main point of contention is how he has fooled shitloads of liberals into thinking that he's some sort of reasonably moderate conservative. He's not. The man is a wolf in sheep's clothing, a velvet gloved Sean Hannity, a political Eddie Haskell. See, here's the recipe that makes up the Douche Souffle that is Joe Scarborough: Step 1) Blatantly lie about all the Bush policies you opposed Step 2)Randomly insert some nonsensical story about the good old days when you were in Congress Step 3)Incessantly Toil in false equivalences. "Obama was called a nigger, a guy has a gun at an event, people are questioning his birth certificate? Hell, someone held up a Bush as Hitler sign up once!! Step 4)Agree with a progressive on a no brainer.. "I agree, Obama was right to remain silent about the Iran protests. Did I mention that I'm against puppies being tortured?" Step 5)Behave like a petulant child whenever someone calls you on your Bullshit. Stir. Let sit for 5 minutes..

That's why Anthony Weiner kicking Joe Scarborough in the teeth this morning while discussing health care was such a great thing to see. Enjoy.

D-Nice's True Hip-Hop Stories: B-Real

Monday, August 17, 2009

Just a few thoughts..

I'm kind of ashamed to admit this, especially after watching this vlog by comedian James Hannah entitled "This is what it sounds like when men cry", but sometimes I cry inappropriately when I've had too much to drink. I know, I know, I would need a super computer to calculate all the men that I've historically mocked, ridiculed, then proceeded to question their hetero street cred whenever they took it upon themselves to shed a tear in my presence. But a couple of times, not often and not recently, I've found myself sobbing like a redneck on November 5th whenever I'm with close friends and alcohol is involved. Sometimes I know exactly what causes the salty liquid to negotiate the chubby terrain that is my face, my father. But other times I have no godly idea what makes me feel the need to emotionally confide in my friends aka have them thinking I'm softer than baby shit. My mother thinks that I have too much time on my hands, and that I should be out there procreating with reckless abandon. My close friends think that its my superhero flaw: Superman had Kryptonite, WonderWoman had to endure the humiliation that comes with having to wear a hooker outfit and flying a "invisible" plane that even Stevie Wonder could see her scantily clad ass in. My tragic flaw happens to be crying like a bitch at the most inopportune moments. My therapist was absolutely no help at all, she just sarcastically said "at least you aren't physically assaulting people" then proceeded to quickly write me a prescription for something that I had never heard of.

But you want to know something? As embarrassing as weeping in front of your peers can be, I always feel like a new man afterwords - I guess engaging in an emotional vomit-fest can be quite the cathartic endeavor. But since my alcoholic outings come with enough conditions from friends: "If you're going to drink, please don't break a chair over someones back" - "Try not to tongue kiss a chick you'd usually refuse to give directions to" - "We're buying you shots tonight only because we don't trust you with bottles" - the last thing in the world I need is for my tear ducts to ruin another perfectly good time. That's why I'm trying a new tactic, getting things off my chest on this blog that have been nagging me lately - maybe addressing random issues of the day that have been consuming my brain lately might do the trick. Enjoy.

Joe Budden vs Raekwon: Ugh. Disclaimer: A few months ago, when I was still employed at Vibe, I had a blog post entitled "The Curious Case of Joe Budden" written and ready to go. The post was basically about Joe's penchant for cavalierly dissing people, playing the professional victim ala Sarah Palin when the person he disrespected voices their objection - only to draw the rightfully offended party into a rather shrug worthy rap back and forth. The piece wasn't critical of that particular tactic, it was just me acknowledging that I knew what his modus operandi was. But I eventually decided against it, because if there is one thing lamer than knowing the government names of porn stars as I do, its dedicating an entire blog post to the likes of Joe Budden. Don't get it twisted, I'm not a Joe Budden hater, he's just not my favorite MC in the world that's all. That said, I find myself siding with Joey on this one. Yes, he originally sparked off this entire clusterfuck by taking hostile exception to Method Man's ranking in a Vibe online rap bracket(a beef which was squashed by both parties by the way) - but Raekwon needing an entourage to attack Joe Budden is truly some bitch shit. I mean, Raekwon can talk as greasy as he wants, but until he fights Joe Budden straight up(as the Jersey native has suggested), I'll continue to believe that my fourth favorite Wu-Tang is the human embodiment of an orifice that produces children and bleeds every 28 days.

The Public Option: I'm of the opinion, like many people on my side of the political aisle, that a health care bill without a robust public option really isn't health care reform. I, like many people, am extremely concerned that the final bill will be some watered down piece of legislation that wasn't worth our newly elected President spending all his political capital on. But what I won't do is engage in an activity that many progressives have been engaged in lately, incessant hand-wringing mixed with "the sky is falling" fatalism concerning the possible loss of the public option. Its too early in the game for that shit. Look, if the final bill lacks a public option I will be pissed the fuck off like everyone else. But for all we know, the hedging on the public option from the likes of Kathleen Sibelius and our President could be nothing more than political headfakes. I mean, we see how the republicans have demagogued the President's efforts at health care reform when no goddamn bill exists - just think about what they'd do if something concrete was produced. That's why the White House refusing to draw a line in the sand concerning the Public Option is an understandable headfake in my opinion. Maybe the White House is being rather Machiavellian about all this. Maybe they are publicly hedging their bets on the public option to rally the base, putting a fire under their ass so they will counter the vitriolic teabaggers we've all ben bombarded with these past weeks. Hell, there are so many disaffected progressives who have acted as if they were going to commit hari kari every time Obama doesn't grant one of their wishes - maybe they do need their motherfucking cage's rattled a little.

"Black" acting White Women: Because I'm the only one in my crew who has never known a white woman in the biblical sense, my friends think that I'm some sort of freak of nature or unexplained phenomenon - so they have taken it upon themselves to give me clever nicknames like "The Golden Child" and "Stonehenge". Sure, like everyone I have a preference and I strongly prefer black women, but that doesn't mean that I'm against interracial relationships. To the contrary. I've always contended that if I ever met my white soulmate that I'd unflinchingly snatch her up like a strong arm robbery, with the both of us blissfully living the rest our lives with a cacophony of teeth sucking sounds from black women who would never fuck me anyway serving as the soundtrack to our romance. But I fail to make the same mistakes many of my black brethren continue to make, and that is gleefully penetrating white women who look as if they grew up next to nuclear reactors. Also, to quote Comedian Paul Mooney, "I like my white people white". I don't know what it is about me, but lately I've been attracting white women who apparently feel as if being black means exaggerated arm movements and broken English. What these young women don't understand is that taking on that persona is downright insulting. No matter how much they think they are assimilating to the black culture, its nothing more than an offensive blackface routine. I like my white women "Janeane Garofalo" white, someone whose politics are so similar to mine that she feels comfortable calling a black republican a "House Negro".(see Larry Elder) "Drew Barrymore" white, "Angelina Jolie" white, you get the picture. The mere thought of one of these black acting chicks one day questioning my blackness simply because I enunciate my words scares me more than a Sarah Palin presidency. Ok, it doesn't scare me that much.

Michael Vick: I know some people can never forgive Michael Vick, and based on the heinousness of the crimes committed I can completely understand that point of view. But I'm of the firm belief that if a man pays his debt to society that he should be able to make a living. One thing that has bothered me about this whole thing is how his critics flatly disregard any argument thrown their way that cites some garden variety athlete who has killed human beings and returned to a lot less scrutiny. I guess its easy to strongly reject such arguments when you think animals are as valuable as people, which I personally disagree with. Listen, its hard to tell what's in a persons heart, that "60 Minutes" interview that he did only proved that Michale Vick is being coached better than a politician before a debate. But the man served 22 months in jail and lost 100 million dollars, if he stays out of trouble and says the right things - I'm rooting for his second chance.

Sunday, August 16, 2009

Helping America become post racial, one brutal beating at a time: Episode Two

Despite our tumultuous relationship, and the fact that I blame him for everything ranging from my belief that kicking a drunk asshole's teeth in should be an Olympic event to me being unable to maintain a relationship that doesn't involve receipts and glitter - for a while I really wished that my old man was around to see the election of our first black Commander in Chief. What a mental screensaver it would have been to see the pride in my father's eyes as Barack Obama was being sworn in. Someone of my generation can never grasp what it feels like use a "colored" restroom, to see friends and family members strung up from the highest tree - to finally, in the winter of my life, actually witnessing a Black man get elected to the highest office in the land. Our relationship was truly abysmal, but being that 2001 was when prostate cancer shuffled my old man loose the mortal coil, I calculate that I would have had to withstand 465 soul crushing "You are never going to be shit" screeds if he had lived to see that legendary day. To be quite candid, it definitely would have been worth it. So I thought.

Witnessing these townhalls over the last two weeks has been rough. Listen, I was never delusional, I knew that the election of our first black president wasn't going to eradicate racism. Even though on election night the country felt healed, with strange white chicks hugging me like it was the end of a catholic mass and white men uncontrollably weeping in my presence like an actress in a Spanish novella. I was still aware that America is a place rife with mouth-breathing bigots. But I guess I felt like a career carnivore who finally sees a cow slaughtered, of course they always knew that the thing they were so liberally putting steak sauce on was a murdered animal - but actually seeing a cow bleed out in front of you in a slaughterhouse is a different story entirely. I knew that they are a shitload of people who probably masturbate to "Mississippi Burning", but actually seeing them foaming at the mouth at these townhalls really jarred a brother back into reality. The "Obama as Hitler" signs. The "Death to Obama" sign. The tried and true calls of "socialism", which to me will always be the belligerent bigot's go to move now that some people frown upon those who cavalierly say the word "nigger". That miserable sack of shit who was packing a gun at an Obama townhall.(I swear to god, if I was there, I would have beaten him to fucking death with that gun) The eardrum shattering dog-whistle that is the "I want my country back" drivel that some toothless rube clumsily shouts at their state representative, which usually prefaces some debunked claim that was pulled from the dark recesses of Sarah Palin's asscrack. Not for nothing, but this racism is really going to make me hurt someone. Oops, let me try that again: This racism is really going to make me hurt more people.

The HumanityCritic Ejector Seat: Remember that old Eddie Murphy bit from "Raw", where he talks about how the movie "Rocky" makes Italians a wee bit overconfident? The fictitious "Italian Stallion" provoking them to say things to black folks that would have never escaped their mandible otherwise. Well, it seems that those contentious townhalls where people come equipped with misinformation and hateful signs has had the same affect on some of the residents of my mental Mayberry of a town. Case in point: A couple of days ago, as I sat at a traffic light pondering the meaning of life(Actually, wondering why women feel insulted every time I use two condoms) - this guy who pulled up beside me apparent saw my Obama bumper sticker and said the following: "Yo, motherfuck Obama! Fuck you for liking Obama! Someone should take that boy out, he's ruining my country!!" Usually I would have stuck the landing on some rhetorical flourish involving his mother, a gangbang, and the Taliban - but I simply smiled and waved at the irate gentleman. Not because I was doing what my mother hoped I would do, turning the other cheek, but because I had every intention on following the young man to wherever his destination was and pummeling the ever loving shit out of him.

So a few moments later, after he pulled into a grocery store parking lot and proceeded to talk on his phone - I ran up to his automobile on some "Menace to Society" shit and pulled that asshole out of his car. Before I go any further let me just say that there is an art to dragging a motherfucker out of their beloved vehicle. It should be done all in a couple of quick motions: Lunging in and stunning the prospective victim with a punch to the face, grabbing the person by the collar when said punch protracts - and at the exact same time, open the door from the inside with the other hand. (It's pretty genius if I say so myself.) Anyway, after pulling him out of his car I thought about slamming the car door on his head, but decided not to because that could quickly lead to a murder charge. So I hit him in the gut a few times, strictly on some William Zabka High school bully shit - then mercilessly choke slammed him on to the hood of his car. I punched him one more time for good measure while screaming "This ain't "Rocky" motherfucker!!" He looked at me with bewilderment, and for good reason too - how was supposed to know that I would use a "Rocky" analogy in a piece about the beating he was on the business end of a few days later?

Friday, July 31, 2009

Helping America become post racial, one brutal beating at a time: Episode One

A few months ago I promised my therapist that I would actively work on my anger issues. Usually I would ignore such silly suggestions of civility and high-mindedness, primarily because I'm of the sincere belief that the ability to exercise ones demons with a well placed throat-chop or a soul crushing clothesline will literally add years to an otherwise miserable existence. But I agreed to temper my behavior. Keep my penchant for backhanding complete strangers to a minimum. Do away with an old pastime of mine where I threaten to mercilessly beat an innocent man just because his significant other lacked the ability to keep her mandible in the closed position. Solely because the horror in my therapist eyes as I told him about the time I pulled one of my enemies out of his car during a funeral procession jarred me back to reality. I mean, my therapist treats murderers, truly psychotic fucks who were probably torturing puppies and setting fires before they could read, black republicans - if one of my more pedestrian tales of violence shocks a person who has heard just about everything, an abrupt change of behavior may be needed.

Besides, it was easy to rationalize a rather Gandhi-like existence from this point forward: I'm almost 36 years old, and a man of my age breaking chairs over people's backs doesn't exactly make me a prime marriage prospect. Despite the fact that I'm my mother's third favorite child(Out of 3), and my mere existence on this earth is based on a lie(My father told her that he had a vasectomy), I'm pretty sure my untimely demise by the hands of a gun wielding person I once throat-chopped would probably suck for her. Also, the prospect of jail time scares the shit out of me. I mean, I could never see a scenario where I commit suicide, I simply love myself too much. But while in jail, if I'm faced with the prospect of being someone's human pin cushion, occasionally holding one of their pockets as a sign of ownership and the other option is killing myself - Goodbye cruel world!

So for a while I had kept my promise, shocking friends as I laughed off sideways comments from drunk assholes, my mother was surprised that I didn't attempt to strangle an incessant talker with my shoe string when we were in a movie theater - to "turn the other cheek" to me usually meant forcefully kicking or punching a motherfucker in the face, but karma-wise I was in an extremely good place. A peaceful HumanityCritic was a good fit, so I thought.

I've decided, based on the weeks of racism that we've all been bombarded with on our television screens, and the unflinching bigotry that I've seen up close and personal since the election - that I'm going back to fucking people up. I'm sorry, the old me is back. Sure, the tea-parties weren't about taxes, it was about spineless mouth-breeding bigots unable to accept a black man in the White House. Texas Governor Rick Perry wanting to secede from the union, we all know what that's about. The birthers, who have been around since the election, are nothing but a bunch of inbred knuckle-draggers who are unsuccessfully trying to hide their vile, lecherous hatred of a black president behind the flimsiest of arguments. But the last two weeks have been my tipping point. The Sotomayor hearings. Legitimate news organizations flirting with the birther movement. The racial fires that media bloviators have no problems fanning. That warm and fuzzy feeling I had when Barack Obama was elected, the visions of United Colors of Benetton commercials of racial unity playing in my head - are officially dead. It's time to make this nation truly post racial, one kick in the chest at a time. Let me tell you what happened on Monday..

Episode One: "Potholes in my lawn"

Because I'm getting back into the "fucking people up" business, excuse me if this story isn't as colorful as I know future reenactments of people getting their racist asses handed to them will be. So hold on to your fucking hat. Anyway, I was driving home the other day when I noticed a man putting a rather gaudy sign in his front yard. The wording on the sign wasn't legible from the distance I was at, but when I got closer it clearly read "Where's the Birth Certificate?" - this son of a bitch lives only a block away for heavens sake! So I backed up my car about 50 meters, drove my car on to the man's lawn with reckless abandon, then proceeded to do donuts like I was Bo and Luke Duke on that extremely offensive sign that I had just obliterated with my car bumper. When the man ran back out of his house, calling me everything but the son of god, I hopped out my car and choke slammed him into his own bushes. To carry the wrestling motif even further, and because I like to make myself laugh during physical altercations - I threw a nasty figure four leglock on that bigoted son of a bitch. It was funny, he kept screaming "Please, for the love of god, my kids will be home soon!!" In which I responded, "You'd think a person who pushes debunked conspiracy theories in the most public of fashions couldn't be embarrassed." Anyway, after I threatened to come back and beat him senseless if he put that sign up, with cotton candy and popcorn to give his kids when they have a front row seat to the mauling of their father - I left. But as I was leaving, his next door neighbor came by and said to the gentleman "I told you what would happen if you put that sign up, that black guy is crazy!" I like when my reputation precedes me.

Eminem - "The Warning" (Mariah Carey diss)

When I was a kid I lived a couple of houses down from a guy that we nicknamed "Crazy Roger", a reclusive Vietnam veteran who my father told me to stay away from because he had "that thousand yard stare". I pretty much obeyed my old man's wishes, kept clear of our anti social neighbor, but the guy was so damn intriguing. Trashy women would come by his house at all hours of the night which meant that he was a fan of tax deductible ass. He was a raging alcoholic, a trash man once dropped his garbage can and a million booze bottles came rolling out. He also hated being seen so much that he would literally run out, snatch his newspaper, and run back in - like a vampire who didn't want to be barbecued in the most public of fashions. Anyway, one Halloween some friends and me thought it would be a laugh riot if we toilet papered Roger's house. I mean, the guy never comes out, what exactly is the risk? Well, I soon found out. Roger came out of his house with a big bamboo stick, something I'm sure Samurai's practiced with - and proceeded to rock our feeble little worlds before the first roll was thrown. Sometime you gotta let sleeping dogs lie.

That's sort of how I view this new Eminem song dissing Mariah Carey. I mean, I saw this verbal dismantling coming a mile away when Mariah dropped that "Obsessed" video.(Mariah, you aren't fooling anyone, that was about Em) Maybe because of the rehab, or the more measured tone he's been exhibiting in interviews, but I guess Team Mariah thought that Eminem was suddenly that dude to fuck with. Stupid. Listen, I have many criticisms of Marshall Mathers: He should stop producing. He shouldn't rely so much on Dr. Dre so much because the man can't carry an album any more. Regurgitating themes from earlier albums. But don't get it twisted, the dude can still rhyme his ass off. Yeah, Mariah deserved this.

Hat tip to RapRadar