Ever since my father told me that Santa Claus didn't exist and added, "If you do see a fat white fuck coming down our chimney trying to give you a "gift", stab that motherfucker immediately because he's a pedophile!!", there isn't much that I anxiously wait for each year. Birthdays suck when you get past 30, I haven't remembered a New Years eve in years, but there is one event that I marked on my calender the same way I used to remind myself of my ex-girlfriends cycle before we went on vacation. That event, one that made me pull out my Sunday's best for a few years straight, one that made me make sure that every dreadlock was in place, beard was trimmed, the one event where I acted like a perfect gentleman and hid the fact that I'm an insufferable prick. This place I talk about,where the fantasies of a child-like dreamer like myself came true as if I was a pre-teen sipping chocolate out of Willy Wonka's pool and shit, is a yearly poetry party thrown by a couple that I have known since college.The couple in question, Carlos and Tonya, have been throwing these home-made poetry slams for years, where there were so many incense and head-wraps in one place you would think that you were stuck in a virtual showing of "Love Jones". To be honest, I hate a lot of poetry, I find the male poets to be condescending jackasses and the female poets desperately trying to channel their inner flower child, plus the poetry there is mediocre at best. I once went there, exposing what kind of pig I am, to prey on the scores of lonely women who attended my friend's shin-dig, knowing that their sole purpose was being able to recite some bland "men ain't shit" rant while I attempted to play the sensitive guy and talk them out of their dashiki's later.
It was poetry(pun intended) when I sought out which female I was going to expose to my pre-ejaculatory ways, if you look closely you can see an easy mark a mile away. Ladies I mean no harm so look at this as a cautionary tale, as a changed man who now looks down at his once asshole ways, but never tell a man shit like "I'm a strong black woman, no man can get over on me!" because not only is it a cry for help but you might as well put a fucking bulls-eye on your back. So each year, when I didn't have the conscious that I have now, I'd meet some coffee-shop chicks at my friends gathering, and later I would leave them disappointed as we laid there in our post coitus glow, trying to block out her vegan ramblings as I nursed a hangover. I thought I wasn't doing anything wrong, especially due to the fact that I was blatant with my lechery, and the way that Carlos and Tonya threw single women my way I just knew they were throwing me what I would later nickname "ASSists".
But there was something wrong with what I was doing, a fact that came to my attention when I decided to attend one of my friends poetry parties after a 3 years absence. The problem with me changing my life in the last three years is that your old self is always a part of you, the alcoholic who becomes clean has ghosts who still haunt him because of the lives he shattered at the height of his addiction, the ex cocaine addict with a new lease on life is still haunted by his old self who stole money from the ones he loved years earlier, and even though I have changed there are still ghosts that haunt me. True, I'm still violent, like to drink, and have no problem calling members of the clergy "miserable motherfuckers", but the fact that I stopped playing Russian Roulette with my cock has to count for something.
So I walked in their yearly event not thinking about my past indiscretions, but simply wanting to see some old friends and listen to some third-rate poetry. As I approached Carlos and Tonya I extended my arms as to give both of them a hug, but I didn't really feel the love back as they gave me an uneasy pat on my back to reciprocate the affection. We chatted a while but I could tell something was wrong with them, I just chalked it up to them feeling stressed due to all the planning it takes for them to run this affair smoothly. So I grabbed me a chair, grabbed me a fruit drink and proceeded to watch the first 5 poets that did your garden variety, bitter broad "men ain't shit" poetry.
Truly bored, and getting a massive chubby from the mounds of flesh peaking through various sarongs and dashiki's, I went in the back yard to pour some liquor in my fruit drink to make this night a little more bearable. There I saw Tonya, who was smoking a cigarette when she saw my fruit punch become intimately acquainted with Mr. Jack Daniels himself when she said, "I see you haven't changed much in the past few years!!" I smiled, took a sip from my drink then jokingly said, "Tonya, some of those Erykah Badu chicks in there can really "catch it", hook a brother up!!!" With a frustrated look on her face she looked up into the sky, mouthing the words "I can't believe this shit!" to herself, then grabbed me by the hand.
She quickly led me to her garage that smelled like a bum's nutsack, as if I was a toddler and shit, and advised me to wait there for a few moments. I didn't know what was going on, for all I know she could have found that the right opportunity to declare her love for me, but then again she wouldn't touch me with a ten foot pole since that time she found herself laying in a wet spot I left when I had sex with her college roommate in her bed. Then suddenly she reappears, this time with Carlos and two other chicks who looked vaguely familiar. I was uncomfortable, so I do what I always do when I'm in an awkward situation, I say foul shit. "Hey Carlos, I'm all down for an orgy with your wife and these two other chicks, but don't you think me "leaving extra space" in your significant other might ruin our friendship??"
Right when Carlos was about to explain what was going on, Tonya blurted out in a Turrets inspired rage, "We want you to stop fucking our friends! We want you to stop fucking our friends!!!" Carlos looked at her like she had went off script, turned to me and said, "HumanityCritic, you have to stop inserting yourself in people we care about??" "Inserting" myself" I said, "Was I fucking or pumping gas?? Then I said, "What in the fuck are y'all talking about, I haven't been here for a couple of years?" Then, like they had planned this speech for a couple of years and shit, they broke down how by them hooking me up with women that they were friendly with, those women broke off all communication with them based on how much of an asshole I was. The following is a laundry list of offenses against yours truly, shit I had forgotten about until I found myself getting the third degree from 4 people in a musty ass garage.
1. Apparently I met the mother of one young lady while I was drunk, and the mere fact that she was a heavy set woman wearing a purple coat, I proceeded to call her "Grimace" the whole night.
2. Apparently I knocked out the brother of a young lady while he was giving me a playful, brotherly "you'd better not hurt my sister" speech.
3. As the story goes, because a certain young lady was taking too long talking to her ex boyfriend after we had left the movie theater, I took it upon myself to leave her ass there. The sad part was we were three cities from her house.
4. When me and another young lady were at the piercing parlor while her older sister was getting her "goodies" pierced, I said inappropriate things in a Shaggy(the cartoon character) voice like, "Something sure is fishy around her Scooby-Doo!"
5. I had sex with the same sister I felt comfortable publicly commenting on her lack of feminine hygiene.
6. In a moment of post coitus bliss, I promised one woman that I would tattoo her name somewhere on my body. A week later when she tattooed my name on her, instead of telling her the truth about not wanting to go through with it, I lied and said that I had some weird disorder where I couldn't get tattooed. She bought my bullshit, which is miraculous based on the fact that I already had two tattoos at the time.
7. One woman I dated used to be an "escort" and I guess she felt ashamed of her past life and wanted to move those hard emotional times. I guess she didn't find it funny when I would constantly leave money on her dresser after sex.
8. While I was dating one of Tonya's poet friends, I was out with another woman in a club one Saturday night. When I noticed that I was about to be caught and be read the riot act by a scorned lover, I screamed, "Don't you get enough, Stop stalking me!! Security! Security!!", as my boy who was a bouncer carried her away kicking and screaming.
9. The two chicks who were with Tonya during the "Intervention" I had known biblically, and at least one of their poems that night about "men not being shit" was inspired by Humanity F. Critic.
10. I was at a party that was being thrown by a woman I was dating, celebrating her brother having a sex change operation. I was sober, so when I asked him specifics about the operation like the removal of his penis, I meant no disrespect in my curiosity. But he was pissed and called himself dressing me down. So in response, finding the irony in it funny, I followed him around the whole night saying "Come on bro, "I'm not trying to be a dick or anything!!"
As I sat there, bombarded by the numerous sins I committed against women of the coffee-shop variety, I realized I had pushed my asshole tactics in the back of my mind. I felt bad, even wanting to tell them how I have changed my life and the guy they were talking about being the "old me". But dude, I'm lazy, so I shrugged my shoulders like a naughty toddler and simply gave a unsatisfying "My Bad". As we went back into the house to hear the other poets I grabbed the two women by the arm who had just gave me the third degree and said, "So this means we can never fuck again?"
A couple of days ago I pulled out my verbal violin and played a journalistic tune as depressing as a Marty J Blige interview, expressing how hard it was being a black skateboarder. It was a bit much I admit, but when I think about how hard it has been being a Kobe Bryant fan over the past couple of years, I feel like I should fucking underline my point by having a Billy Holiday song play in the background while you read this. If it is not listening to the brilliant retorts from Kobe haters like "

Mtv's #10: LL Cool J
Mtv's #9: Eminem
Mtv's #8: Ice Cube
Mtv's #7: Big Daddy Kane
Mtv's #6: KRS-ONE
Mtv's #5: Nas
Mtv's #4: Rakim
Mtv's #3: Notorious B.I.G
Mtv's #2:Tupac
Mtv's #1: Jay-Z
You know how people might start smoking cigarettes as a substitute for, lets say, heroin? Then, to kick that nicotine habit, they might start chewing gum as some sort of oral replacement. Well folks, because I put internet porn up there with great inventions like Electricity and Hip Hop, Myspace seems like the only thing that could stop me from touching myself to online filth at such a rate that you think that my testicles had an expiration date on them. Man, besides reconnecting with old friends and meeting new ones, sappy shit like that, you can listen to crappy bands and even crappier MC's. Anyway, because I am a social leper who could count the number of good friends that I have on one hand, even if I was limbless, getting "new friends" provides a certain excitement only felt by a chronic masturbator like yours truly. Anyway,
Looking back on my 32 years on this earth, it has become quite apparent that I'm not exactly what you'd call a "



Like a prostitute who gives "

I saw DMX on some show on Mtv a couple of days ago and he said that a "
A week ago, when letting comments go in the moderation phase of my email, I saw someone who had a problem with the Duke rape post that I did. Disagreement is good, plus I could have poked holes in his assessment anyways. Then I went to his message board and saw, when referring to me and my post, that he said "
(
Sometimes, like the alcoholic who has been intoxicated for a decade straight that suddenly decides to sober up when he finds himself laying beside a woman who looks like Biz Markie, my IPOD has brought a sort of "moment of clarity" concerning some musical artists as of late. Like Saigon, who I feel is dope lyrically, but I just fucking hope that he doesn't follow the same career path of another artist who had a great deal of hype around them as well, one who always has his shirt off and made a vomit inducing song called "Candy Shop". Or Jay-Z, who's commercial songs will still never be in my IPOD, but listening to many of his songs I realized that I was overly critical of an obviously sound lyricist.
It's funny how you can live a couple of houses down from somebody and even though you waive occasionally, you never speak to them. Well, as I was drinking a pitcher of beer in the shit-hole that I call my neighborhood bar, fucking with the band that was hired to play by loudly saying in a thick country accent "Play 'Free-bird'!! You No good, lousy Sums-a-bitches", I found myself sitting next to a kid who looked real familiar. I would usually ask "Where do I know you from?", but because this watering hole is directly across the street from a gay bar, and the fact that I was wearing my Janeane Garofalo "Girls Rock!" T-shirt, I was afraid that it might come across as some sort of pickup line. So I just sat there, racking my brain trying to figure out how I know this dude who looks like an extra in a Blink 182 video, then suddenly he said, "What's up man?? I live two houses down from you!!" Even though I thought he was still a teenager he informed me that he was 22(Time flies), so we spent the next hour discussing music, politics, and the new Latina neighbor that we both would like to get to know "biblicly".(Even though I was embarrassed to learn that his father died after I said, "Where is your no-good ass Daddy anyways?? That cocksucker owes me 40 bucks form a game we bet on!!" How embarrassing)
When I'm not downloading criminal amounts of Internet smut, verbally throwing unruly haters of my blog under the bus, or holding tribal rituals in my house in hopes of the Lakers making the playoffs this year, I am thinking about the day that I walk down the isle in wedding bliss. OK, let me be honest here, I have got to be the only straight male in the history of man that has thought about his wedding day his entire life. Hey, the "


Am I the only person who has the sudden need to smash Wilder Valderrama in the face with a brick?? I guess that anger stems from me seeing a new show he hosts entitled "
While watching "
I love me a thick woman, the more "
Tom Delay claims that he wants to relocate to Virginia which is bad news for obvious reasons. The bright side is that at least I have another person to add to my "
I'm I the only one who is sick and tired of those ass-hats who are behind "
Slick Rick: "Teenage Love": Whenever I hear this song immediately I am zapped back to Kempsville High School "Quantum Leap" style during that 1988/89 year, where a day in the life of Humanity F Critic involved Hip Hop, an obsession with women, and chronic masturbation brought on by women that I lusted after who wouldn't piss on me if I was on fire.(Wow, how little things change) In Slick Rick's song "Teenage Love", he tackles what seems to be the the common motif in Hip Hop songs about issues of the heart, a once blooming relationship turning from sugar to shit. But this London born rapper goes deeper, really striking a cord with me with lines like "get back on your feet with a hop and a skip/ but no you'd rather go with this dead relationship", based on the many times I tried to beat a dead horse when I knew that the relationship I was in actually ended a long time ago.
Eric B and Rakim: "Mahogany": This is where I might need help from some of you real Hip Hop fans out there, because I'm not sure if this tune qualifies as a "love song" or a "lust song". Like I said before, regardless of how many tribute albums that Biggie and Tupac come out with, this man is the greatest MC of all time. That being said, when I first heard him go into detail describing his rendezvous with a woman who was either a one night stand or his future wife, he signalled to me that it was OK for a man to break down his innermost feelings. That booming Bass drum that wears you down like water torture, the crisp high hat that reminds you of a ticking clock, or the beautiful horn samples, it takes you to the "Palladium" where Rakim met the lady in question who he intended on getting "soft and warm" with. This might go over the heads of your garden variety "Laffy Taffy" enthusiast, or any miserable soul who has ever purchased a "Dem Franchize Boyz" album, but when Rakim says to the woman "Each moment's a mineral, poetry's protein/ Verse is a vitamin - Affects like Codeine" you knew that those pantie's were coming off that night.
Gang Starr: "Love Sick": I love this song, not only because you can't do wrong with a DJ Premiere produced track, but because I can relate to the words Guru speaks in this song so much. As he describes a beautiful relationship running its course, due to his insensitivity and her jealousy, it is like the Gang Starr member was reading my personal diary. He also shows how heartbroken he is, knowing the relationship is ending and how he has to end it based on her antics, but he still loves her with all his heart.
LL Cool J: "I need Love": Full disclosure here: For the longest time, even until a few years ago, I thought that this was the corniest Hip Hop record ever to grace a DJ's turntables. But now that I'm older I feel that this was a rather ballsy choice for the man with the name James Todd Smith on his birth certificate. I have changed my position on this tune so much in fact that I plan to have this song be my wedding song when me and my wife walk down the aisle, with the lookers-on all wearing Kangol hats in the best B-Boy stance.

