What if HumanityCritc wrote Romance Novels??

Being a Hip Hop fan over the past 26 years and hearing all of the ill researched opinions of said art form, I have learned to research something before giving an opinion on it. Most of the negative opinions of Hip Hop by bottom feeders like Bill O'Reilly are examples of "lazy racism", because not only are his critiques generalizing and downright foolish, you can see that he would give a left testicle to call rappers a bunch of "niggers" if he had a chance but he knows he can't do that. Lazy racism. So because of that I always try to do the proper research before giving my honest opinion on something. For example, since I have seen my fair share of gospel plays, and can admit that some are good, but the lion share of the ones that I have seen in my opinion have horrible dialogue and usually stars some asshole who might have had a hit single 15 years ago. But, I can't say that all gospel plays are shit, just the ones that I have seen. Being that I haven't met every black republican alive, and know that there has to be some that aren't totally vomit inducing, but the ones that I have met makes me want to ask who their "massa" is, and how long they have been a part of a minstrel show. But, I can't generalize like that, I'm just going off the individuals that I have ran across.

The reason why I went into that lengthy spiel was to introduce a situation that I encountered recently. As much as I talk about "doing research before I criticize", I have always had a strange hatred for Romance novels. That's right, I was a hypocrite, because I have never read one, and I stereotypically thought that every novel had cheesy dialogue and that Fabio was on every cover. That was until I ran across a old college friend named Rose, who I hadn't seen in years, and to my surprise writes Romance novels. She emailed me a week ago and said that she enjoyed my blog, and that she never knew that I was a "fellow writer". So I replied, "I'm a fellow who writes, but to be considered a "writer" one has to get paid to do so on a regular basis. So right now I'm just a chubby black bastard who rambles in a blog, and should have an Afro growing out of my palms from the constant mastu.. Forget it"

When she told me that she was a romance writer, and asked me what I thought about it I basically said that it wasn't my thing and that I honestly thought it was corny. Eager to enlighten me she sent me some of her writing, so I sat there and began to read, thinking that my pre-judgment of said art form would be proved true. As I read her stuff it was pretty good, to the point that I was "sporting wood" like Barry Bonds up to bat.(sporting wood=erection) Even though I still wouldn't buy a romance novel, I had a new respect for what she and writers of her ilk do. Looking back, reading through her stories of erotica, I also realized my limitations as a writer. I mean, imagine if I tried to write a romance novel based on how romantic I am, that might come off horribly. I am a person who has been known to be as romantic as an enema, so here are a few miserable examples of romance writing by The HumanityCritic.

Excerpt from HumanityCritics "Faster than a Speeding Bullet"
Page 112: Even though Sheila was Highly irritated by the way HumanityCritic cursed out her girlfriends earlier that night by calling them "a smorgasbord of whores", she was attracted by the way his dreadlocks blew in the wind and how he threatened a stranger with physical violence by "shoving his size 11's in his ass." Sheila was used to more gentle, more well behaved individuals, but HumanityCritic's animalistic nature either meant that he was a stallion in the bedroom, or he was trying to suppress the fact that he was a flaming homosexual. As she played with his hair as he drove her to her house, she really hoped it was the first one. After he walked her in the house, and they talked for minutes looking deeply into each others eyes, HumanityCritic says something that every woman wants to hear: "Listen, are we gonna fuck or what??!!" Sheila, taken back by the bluntness of her male suitor, didn't know whether to feel excited by his bold statement, or nauseous, the alcohol that HumanityCritic kept buying her earlier that night made it hard for her to distinguish between the two. Looking at the bulging mass in HumanityCritic's trousers, she decided to tease him by saying, "I'm not sure, I hardly know you.." That is when HumanityCritic said the following, "You seemed to know my ass when you were ordering Lobster earlier and expensive wine earlier! OK, OK, I got some weed, what do you say??" That was Sheila's kryptonite, the one thing that would make her lower her defenses and get freakier than Lil Kim on Ecstasy.

As they smoked, well, as she smoked and HumanityCritic acted like he was smoking, she suddenly placed the marijuana cigarette in the ashtray and attacked HC like a woman possessed. As she kissed HumanityCritic, he was fumbling with the bra strap, as she began to undress him, he was fumbling with the bra strap, as she pulled her skirt off, he was fumbling with the motherfucking bra strap!! "What are you retarded??!", she screamed as she unhooked her own bra strap. As they engaged in thrusts of passion she was saying things like, "I bet your gonna blog about this huh?", "You like this don't you?", "Make me feel gooood"(ala Halle in "Monsters Ball".) It got to the point where HumanityCritic stopped his thrusts, put his finger over her mouth and said, "Sweetie, don't take this the wrong way, but shut-the-fuck-up, you ruin it by talking!" She understands his requests and they continue with their night of passion, then suddenly, about two minutes later, HumanityCritic's face tenses up, making Sheila say, "Oh No you didn't, you came that quick??" Forcing HC to gently stroke her face and say, "Shit, didn't you read my blog?? But, I can go again, I have to go to the store and get some more condoms." Still hot as a Arizona desert, Sheila says, "It's OK, I am clean!!" HumanityCritic turns around, gently smirked and said, "Fuck that, your ass used to date Bobby Brown, I'm not taking any chances!!", as he went to the store to get some protection. Actually, he lied, he went straight home and fell asleep, only to wake the next day to a slew of profanities on his answering machine the next morning.

Excerpt from HumanityCritic's "Salad, Deception, and Passion"
page 45: The view was beautiful, right along the beach with the waves crashing against the ocean, it was a sight to see. HumanityCritic had rented out this time share from this dude he knew who owed him from the time that HC saved him from a beating, so the fact that it was free enabled HC to get even more romantic for the night he had planned. The young lady he planned on getting intimate with was a lovely Latina named Maritza, she was someone who Critic wanted, like Ice Cube said in the song "It was a Good day", to f*ck since the 12th grade." For 14 years Maritza had all but ignored HC's advances, thinking of him as brash and someone who has definite issues to deal with. But she was intrigued by some of his writing one day where he talked affectionately about his mother in a blog post she read months ago.(Obviously that was the only time she visited this site.) She figured she would give him one final shot, showing up at HumanityCritic's ghetto ass time share wearing a extremely tight skirt, and a shirt exposing cleavage that someone could fit a small child inside.

Even though HC was harder than Chinese Arithmetic, he knew his chances of seeing the tattoo on her ass that she kept talking about was getting slim. For one thing, she didn't find it funny that instead of wine he brought out 40 ounces for both of them to drink.(HC knew that malt liquor wasn't the move, but he always wanted to see a dainty woman throw back a giant bottle of beer. That dude has a sick sense of humor) Besides her wanting a sensitive man, which HC is not, she also wanted to date a Vegan man since she planned to live her life more healthy starting the next few months. So HumanityCritic, looking at those thick caramel thighs and thinking how much he would love to wear them like earmuffs, decides that he is going to lie his ass off. First, he constantly thinks about his father and the shitload of emotional issues that he has, and started to conjure up tears, saying that he has "always loved her" and that she was the "woman of her dreams". Maritza begins to console HC, getting more excited, as HC gets more excited as well because of the fact that he is laying on her chest. Then, he went in for the kill, and said that he is a Vegan as well, going on this lengthy PETA spiel about how "eating animal flesh is murder!!" Her eyes suddenly lit up, thinking that she had found the man of her dreams, and they started to engage in a wild night of passion. It was a memorable night, despite the fact that HumanityCritic decided to put on Public Enemy as "mood music", told Maritza that he couldn't climax until she continuously said that she loved his blog, and when he did climax he shouted "Release the hounds!!!" Beside that, it was a night of unadulterated debauchery. The next morning, before HC took Maritza home, he stopped at a store to get her a salad and something for himself. After he got back in the car and she began to eat her salad, she asked HumanityCritic, "So, what did you get??" HC pulls out greasy mass amounts of meat and says, "A double cheeseburger, want a bite?" Horrified, Maritza said, "you lied to me, you murderer, you're not a vegan!!" "Of course not, now sit back and shut the fuck up!!", HumanityCritic said. The next few minutes consisted of Maritza hitting HumanityCritic as he let out a series of devilish chuckles.

The "What in the Fuck did you say Motherfucker??" Item of the day

GOP Congressman, Rep.Richard Baker of Baton Rouge was overheard telling lobbysits the following, concerning Hurricane Katrina and the damage it caused:

"We finally cleaned up public housing in New Orleans. We couldn't do it, but God did."

I suddenly feel the need to travel to Louisana with a bat, a ski mask, and a getaway car. But I'm wondering how black conservatives feel about their choice of party affiliation over the past few weeks.

Just a Friendly game of Softball

A couple of months a friend of mine, who I have known for more than 20 years, asked me to join his recreation softball team. First I declined, thinking that it would take up my valuable time of masturbation and cursing out strangers, but I eventually accepted his offer because a brother could use more exercise in his life. Right after I agreed to join his team I warned him, saying "Look Marcus, I am very competitive, so if this one of those "lets just play for the love of it, and I might even laugh if I drop a pop fly type of shit then count my black ass out!!" He said that their team was very competitive, and that "my type of aggression" was needed, and that since I have always been a decent athlete that I would be a welcomed addition to their squad.

Being the consummate asshole that I am, the next few weeks before I joined the team I not only started working out like I was running a marathon, caught practice fly and ground balls that a friend of mine would hit to me daily, and lastly, I got a hitting coach. I know, getting a hitting coach seems kind of extreme for a slow pitch softball league, but nothing would be sexier to female onlookers then for me to strike a pose after I smash a ball out of the park, dreadlocks flowing in the wind, running the bases in slow motion.(It could happen!!) Anyway, I eventually joined the team, practiced for a few weeks, then we started to play our games on a weekly basis. The following acts, perpetrated by yours truly, are the main reasons why my teammates want me off the team, beat up, or want to see me erased from the face of the earth.

First Game:(Cardinals): This was the first game so I didn't do that well, I think I hit one single and grounded out twice. This particular game was the first chance that my dear teammates got to see what sort of asshole I was. The entire game, the opposing pitcher would scream shit to our pitcher while he was on the mound. Even though our pitcher is named Randy, and he is a ex-navy seal that would probably beat my ass within seconds, he seemed kind of rattled by the words coming out of this woman's mouth. Each inning she was shout things like, "You suck!! You should be pitching the kiddie league pal!!", common PG-13 type of stuff. This is the time I figured I would step up and defend my teammate, showing the others that I would have their back under any situation. So, while I was on the bench and she was pitching, I screamed, "Hey pitcher, you are one manly looking broad!!", making my teammates begin to laugh nervously. I continued with, "with all that hair on your face I think that magnum P.I was our opposing pitcher!!" By this time the entire opposing team is looking in my direction like they were going to do something, where I reply, "Come on guys, you know she's a man, yall have to help her "tape back her package" before every game. One word honey, five syllables, electrolysis!!" Now my teammates are "shushing" me, and literally covering my mouth. It is finally my turn to bat, and the pitcher was giving me the same look that an ex-girlfriend gave me when I drunkenly said that I wanted to have a three-way with her and her sister.

The first pitch came and I knocked it foul. The second pitch, I am embarrassed to say I swung on and missed, evoking laughter from the other bench. The next pitch came, I watched it decline, and when it got around mid-chest level I stepped back and cranked that motherfucker with all my might. I was shocked at how far it went, and I even had a chance to strike that sexy pose after it left my bat. To add insult to injury, as I approached first base I turned to the pitcher and said, "Come on, we all know that you are used to having balls being flung in your direction at high velocity!!" When I got to home base a few teammates were there to congratulate me, but the rest were on the bench hanging their head in shame.

Second Game:(Braves) By this time, similar to the way Monica Lewinsky feels, I was famous for all the wrong reasons. The good: A woman saying to me, "I heard what you did last week, you are a trip" as she batted her eyes and showed me cleavage that would make a gay man second guess his lifestyle. The bad: A member of the opposing team, a ex cop, who said, "If you try that shit with us you will be sorry!" Where I called him the slang term used for the vagina, and promised him that I would "bludgeon anyone motherucker who stepped to me!" while holding a Louisville slugger. Anyway, playfull bater aside, the game was going good, I had a couple RBI's and I was quiet most of the game. That was until I hit a single and became involved in a heated discussion with the opposing teams first baseman. He was saying things like, "Hey Bob Marley, you have any Ganja", based on the fact that I have dreadlocks, and a bunch of other shit that I retorted with questioning his manhood, telling him that his parents are siblings, and other pleasantries that go along with a friendly game of softball.

That was that, until I was up again and I hit a towering fly ball that seemed to not want to come down. I ran full speed even though I figured that it would be caught, as I approached first base. As I crossed first base I noticed that that same first baseman was in my base-path about to catch the ball. In a move that I thought was legal, and all you sports buffs correct me if I'm wrong, I proceeded in running him over, hitting him like I was Ray Lewis punishing a wide receiver who attempted to catch a ball anywhere in his vicinity. The guy went air born, flailing like a bird with a broken wing, as the ball landed right beside his lifeless(albeit momentarily) body and I trotted calmly to second base. Some of his teammates ran out, calling me everything from an asshole to a son of a bitch, and saying that I needed to calm down. To my surprise, my teammates came to my aid, even my republican teammate that has to be 55 years old and looked like the mother that played on the Brady Bunch. We ended up wining the game which I was happy about, but after staring down the other team as they walked to their car, my teammates said that they wanted to have a team meeting with me as soon as possible. I didn't go to that meeting, which angered them even more..

Third Game:(Orioles): This was possibly my last game since they were stewing about the fact that I had skipped out on their meeting. I wasn't trying to be a prick, maybe I was, but I already pay a shitload of money to a chick that analyzes how much a asshole I am, I don't need to be told that by people who probably consider Bill O'Reilly a news source and probably voted for Bush because "John Kerry looks French!!" Fuck that! As the game went on my teammates started to warm up to me again, primarily because I was being supportive to teammates as they stepped up to bat. That game I had a triple and a couple of doubles, I was doing good and so far no profanity laced outbursts. That was until I saw something that pissed me off beyond belief. When I learned that my teammate named Nancy had a boyfriend on the opposing team, it really didn't bother me that much. That was until she rounded third base, and as she approached home base to score and tie the game, she failed to slide and just giggled as her boyfriend politely tagged her out.

I'm sorry, this is going to sound harsh, but if my girlfriend is playing on the opposing team as their catcher and I am running to home base, I am running her sorry ass the fuck over. I'm just that competitive, either she will get over it and we can have make-up sex later, or she will know to not play catcher whenever my team plays hers. Anyway, I was outraged and my team even agreed with me, albeit silently. When she came back to the bench I said, "What in the fuck was that?? Talk about conflict of interest!!" Then she said, "Shut the fuck HumanityCritic, my boyfriend will kick your ass!!" I just smiled and said, "OK, I hear you" About a half hour later I found myself on third base, waiting for someone to bring me home. Randy, our pitcher, hit a ground ball that rolled past the second baseman. The center fielder ran to retrieve the ball, and threw it towards home plate as I ran faster than Celine Dion runs from a sandwich. Even though judging by the catchers stance the ball was nowhere near getting me out, and I could have just stepped on the plate and kept it moving, but since he was crouched down I proceeded in running him over with the force of a mack truck. As he laid out flat on his back, and the ball came down like a full second later, I got up off of him and said, "Don't get up motherfucker!! Nancy ran on the field and quickly came to the aid of her man, acting like I had shot his ass or something. He was OK, just a bit groggy, but I had to laugh when Nancy screamed, "HumanityCritic, when my man regains consciousness he is going to whip your ass!" Because that is a common play, my teammates weren't really mad at that in particular, just the accumulation of incidents over the past few weeks. My friend called me and told me that people hate him for bringing me on, and that asking me on the team was a big mistake on his part. I told him, "Motherfucker you know how I am, I even warned you so stop being a bitch!" OK, I shouldn't have gone there, did I ever mention that I could be shitty friend sometimes??

Blog Gumbo

For the past couple of months I have been going around rapping the words, "I've got peas on my head, but don't call me a pea head" based on the opening credits of a MTV show called "The Andy Milonakis Show". The stuff in it is silly and immature, usually right up my alley, but this show is a little too silly for me, but I figured it was OK because the star of it must be 13 and shit. So when my ex-girlfriend told me that he was actually 29 years old I thought that she was a bona fide nutcase, and I even think I told her that she was full of shit. But come to find out the guy is really 29 years old and he suffers from a hormonal disease that makes him look years younger than he actually is. Shit, Gary Coleman and Webster don't have shit on this bastard. But if he is 29 and the stuff that he does on the show is basically things that he finds funny, then that is sad. BUT, since he looks extremely young, if he plays down his comedic maturity to fool people, then that is fucking genius man. Am I the last person to find out that this guy is damn near my age??


This past Saturday, my homegirl at DiamondsRubiesnColapop sent me a cool link that I have been sharing with some of my friends over the past couple of days. It is a Hurricane song done to the Kanye West beat "Gold digger" entitled "George Bush doesn't like Black people", by a guy called The Legendary K.O. It's a riot, so check it out and tell me what you think about it. Here is the link.

A Relationship: The Cliff-notes version

When I went to my 10 year High School reunion a few years back I didn't know if I should even attend. I mean, I had pretty decent memories of High School, I beat up about 10 bullies in a 3 year period, I did my best to see more vagina than a GYN, people generally liked me, I really didn't have any complaints. The reason why I had reservations was because for one thing I was living a lie, because inside I was a nerd who liked to skateboard, so I should have been treated like the other outcasts in my school but I wasn't. But, because I was on the track team and I would hit people out of frustration quicker than Mike Tyson at a spelling bee, I got propelled to "popular status" in my school. I kept on waiting for a group of individuals in a lynch mob, holding torches and such, confronting me in the halls one day screaming, "He's an impostor, he isn't one of us!! Get him!!" Those issues aside I went to my reunion and had a great time, the "nerds" were now rich and had hot ass wives, the "jocks" and "popular" guys all looked 20 years older than they actually were and resembled Norm from cheers and shit.(Karma is a bitch) Also, there were a handful of women who expressed the secret love they had for me ten years previously, to the point where I screamed "Why didn't you say anything!! We could have been great together, not in a "High School romance" way but in a "I'm going to have sex with you, brag to my friends about it, and add you as a notch on my belt" way. Damn, I've said too much." But all in all I hated school period, the only classes I looked forward too was Gym and Lunch, and maybe Spanish but only because there was a rumor that Ms. Rivera was fucking students and I wanted to see if I had a shot.

The one thing that sticks out about High School is my trusted friend, the almighty "Cliff notes". There was no other resource for lazy fucks like myself who hated to read at the time like that lovely yellow pamphlet. Teachers would always say shit like, "Cliff-notes won't help you, I will be asking questions that aren't in there!!" But come test time, everything that she put on the test I already knew by reading my trusted "cliff notes", so fuck her with her pedestrian threats. I wish that someone provided a Cliff notes edition on dating and relationships. Fuck it, I have a blog, let me give it a shot.

Dating/Courtship: This is by far the fakest part of the entire process as you will see. As much as people say that they don't put on facades during this period, they lie, because this is the equivalent to the "sales pitch". Car Salesman: Ladies, look at this late model African American male we have here. (kicking the tires) Low mileage, won't break your heart, and isn't like other guys. Just for you, we are SLASHING PRICES!! That's right, you heard it here, he has manners and he won't beat your ass. BUY NOW! If I ever date any of you, but then again yall read this tripe so I think you will probably keep your distance, I will try to hide certain things about myself. The fact that I have a "hit first" mentality when it comes to random assholes gets stuffed back in the closet, the fact that I have trust issues will just be covered up with a blanket momentarily, the fact that I come quicker than police at a rap concert gets stuffed in the attic for now, I want to impress her for Christs sake! This is also, I would say for men and women, the point where you figure out if this is going to be something you want to pursue relationship-wise, or just a friend who you sporadically exchanges sexual fluids with. You may also find yourself possibly doing things that are against your better judgment.(i.e Men, charm the hell out of her trifling ass whore girlfriends. Even help her brother by kicking a guy in the face that is beating his ass, I did that. Ladies, be nice and cordial to his crackfein mother. Even fool his chronic masturbating friends that you aren't like "every other chick". Shit like that.)

The Relationship: When someone tells me, "I am so happy in my relationship now" I always say that I am "happy for them", but in reality I know that this euphoric feeling shall pass. Not trying to be a pessimist, but everything is "great" now because it is still brand new and that person hasn't had the proper time to irritate the living piss out of you yet. Slowly, day by day, both of you start to take off the mask and expose who you really are. Day 75: The Man: Why is she wearing those granny panties, looks like something you would wash your car with. The Woman: No he didn't call my cousin a "inbred uncle tom son of a bitch, just for supporting Bush. The Man: I can see a comb, I can see her hair products, could she have used that shit today? Her hair looks like a hornet's nest. The woman: Who in the hell told him that giving me a dutch oven was funny?(That is where, while laying in bed, the man pulls the covers over his lover's head while farting.) That shit is disgusting, and his ass laughed for about a half hour.

If it is early enough, and the other persons true idiosyncrasies are too much to handle, it probably isn't to late to cut and run. But, if their quirky ways are "cute" to you, the you may be one your way to wedded bliss and the possibly to alimony payments. But, don't let me get ahead of myself.

The 2nd act: By this point either you have met your soul mate(albeit momentarily) or you are like a guy on death row, being in a fucked up situation waiting for either you or her to "pull the switch". You have probably had a few knock down drag-out arguments by now so you can tell if that is the individual that you can see spending your life with. For example: I was in a long term relationship with someone who liked to argue, and she knew that I have a sharp tongue, so she would instigate shit all the time. But the thing with me is, if it is a real argument I can see the error of my ways and end it, or just end it because it is unhealthy. But with her, being that I despised her instigating the whole thing, my tongue would get machete-like and I would say some hurtful things. I had to end that relationship because I could see her slicing my throat in my sleep. Anyway, if things aren't going well, you find yourself having sex more infrequently, not talking as much, finding unique reasons to stay away from the house, and even contemplating hiring a hit-man if that woman tells me one more time what her "man-less" friends think about me.

This would be the paragraph were I talk about "if things ARE going well", but how in the fuck would I know about that??? I am a single, 32 year old stocky fucker who maintains a blog, and balances his time writing and masturbating so much that you would think my penis had an expiration date on it. Go ask the married fuckers about that shit.

The Break-up: Everything in life is cyclical, because the break-up is similar to the courtship, a whole like of disguise wearing. When a particular woman and I broke up I had problems eating, poured my heart out to my boys like I was on Oprah, and spent more time on the couch than Al Bundy, watching movies, saying shit like "Me and her used to do that". Sad. But, the image that I portrayed to her was a partying, drinking, womanizing, a "having a great time because I'm not restrained by the chains of relationship" type of guy. I viewed her at the time was a "I am woman hear me roar", life of the party, dating multiple men kind of woman, but in reality she lost a lot of weight like I did and was more miserable than I was. The wicked games we play.

Take it from me, one thing you want to avoid, especially if you deeply love them, is sex with the ex. It is kind of being in rehab for a drug addiction, but see nothing wrong with occasionally getting high on "special occasions". I doesn't work like that homey, make a clean break.(Even though, if some of my ex's called me for a "late night rendevouz", I would dive in that shit faster than Greg Louganis on crack. But I digress) Also, it is weird, but if you were in a long term relationship, afterwards you always wonder if you are truly over it. Even years later, you quietly wonder "Am I finally cool with that, or am I still in some sort of pain?" Recently, the woman I was with for 6 years who dropped me like a bad habit called me. So told me that she was getting married in October, so I did what any asshole would do in that situation, I said that I was happy for her. When I hung the phone up it was like taking a hit of some weed, trying to figure out when the high would kick in. I felt cool with it, I didn't feel hurt or upset, I guess I'm finally over it. A few days later that "relationship weed" still hasn't kicked it, thank god I am actually over it. Whew, it only took 5 years, no sweat!

Therapist on Speed-Dial

I have to honest, when I first started seeing my therapist because of my "anger issues" I thought that she was an absolute quack. She just sat there writing in a journal as I talked about the physical altercations that I have been in, father issues, and other fucked up things about yours truly. At times I felt that she wasn't listening, so mid-sentence I would say something totally crazy like "Sometimes I enjoy horse semen on a hot summer day!" That never worked because she would look up, adjust her glasses and say, "So, tell me why you enjoy horse semen so much?" Outside of myself, there is nothing I hate more than a smart-ass. Besides that, I almost ended our sessions when she said the following: "HumanityCritic, you have anger issues, you are a germaphobe, and you have a sexual addiction that needs to be worked on." I gave a irritated smirk, walked over to her computer and typed in www.nappydiatribe.blogspot.com and said, "Any random motherfucker who comments on my blog could have told me that!! I am spending good money here, loot that could have been used for better things like beer and strippers, and that is your brilliant analysis?"

But I am sticking it out, and besides the time that she called me an asshole(that can't be good) we have been making some progress, the mere fact that I don't get that angry anymore is a sign of that. But recently she asked me something that I found utterly ridiculous, she asked me to call her whenever I felt a "moment of rage" coming on. I nodded and said I would, not really thinking that I would ever do it, but a few times recently I have had to call her up. Here are a few incidents that I want to share with you.

My neighbors, a beauty salon, and the lawn: Did I ever tell you about my neighbors to the right of me, boy do I hate those fuckers. For one thing, when they moved last year the first thing they did was put in a make shift beauty salon in their garage. Besides it being a losing investment because under the law here you can only have one client at a time if you have it in your house, but it is all the miserable bastards who go there and park in front of my house like they have lost their mind. Looking back I know I have come off as kind of prick, due to the many times I have verbally assaulted anyone who dares to park in front of my driveway. But lately, due to my therapy sessions and hopefully late maturation process that comes with turning 32, things have gone somewhat smoothly, that was until we had an issue with the grass recently.

The next door neighbor has a bad habit of cutting into my property, I don't mean a line or two either, like six lines and shit. So, in a passive aggressive way, I had some surveyors come by and put down spray paint marks and pegs showing where my property started. I figured that that should be good enough to show him what was up without cursing him the fuck out. That didn't work at all. After about 4 weeks of him doing the exact same thing, I could feel my temperature rising, and the fact that I saw him getting ready to cut his grass just lit a fire in me. So I suddenly remembered to call my therapist if I was about to explode, so I did. The telephone conversation went a little like this. Me: I'm about to have an outburst. Therapist: OK, remember what I told you, breath, control your anger. Me: OK, I'm breathing, I'm calming dow..(Looking outside at my neighbor cutting into my grass again) Goddammit him!!(puts phone in pocket and rushes outside) I had no intention to lay a finger on my neighbor, but the way I ran up on him scared the shit out of him. So I took a breath, pointed to the two chalk marks and wooden peg and said, "Do you know what that signifies??" He looked at it, smirked and said, "I don't fucking know?" I told that him that they were to show where my property started, where he then said "So?? Why do you care?" (suddenly I feel like David Banner turning into the Hulk, but this time I am HumanityCritic turning into my father) I say the following: "What are you fucking stupid? It matters because you ignorant fuckers cut your grass entirely too low, so the fact that you cut 5 lines into my yard it makes a difference! What are you 40, and you didn't know what those pegs signified?? You have the I.Q of lunch-meat, if I ever see you doing that again I'm going to take one of those pegs and shove.."(I suddenly remember the phone in my pocket where my therapist was still on the line.) I pick up the phone and say, "Did you hear all of that?, where she replied, "Yeah, umm, we have to talk".

Who you calling a bitch?: I have been friends with Randy since I was 12 years old, through thick and thin, his jail-time and my asshole-ness, we've been through it all. His mother is like a second mom to me, she has always made me a part of their family.(Even though Randy being a Bush supporter sometimes makes me want to commit sibling homicide) Anyway, I was invited to have dinner over Randy's mother's house for a great Sunday meal. As she is cooking the dinner she relays a story about a cashier at the grocery store who had called her a "stupid bitch" an hour earlier, simply because she had pointed out that the cashier had given her incorrect change. I could feel my blood pressure rising, simply because we all have mothers, aunts, whatever, that are the nicest people in the world and wouldn't hurt a fly. I'm not going to lie, some people have mothers deserving of inappropriate words thrown their way, but Randy's mom wasn't one of them. Randy looked at me and said, "HumanityCritic don't!", as I proceeded to get the description of the cashier in vivid detail.(Looking back, the way Randy's mom gave me an exact description like I was a police sketch artist, made me think that she was in approval of my future rant.) As I drive up to the store I call my therapist and tell her what's happening: Me: Yeah, I'm about to curse this chick out who called my friend's mom a bitch. Her: You are supposed to call me before you initiate the act, not during. You pretty much have made up your mind that you're going to do this huh? How mature is that? Me: Not very doc, I feel you on that.(See a woman who fit the description outside smoking a cigarette) Gotta go.

You know what, I must have a "Oh shit, he's about to beat my ass" walk about me because the girl in question looked alarmed. I asked to see her manager because of her calling customers "bitches" like she had lost her mind. She let out some obscenities my direction, to the point that the manager came out due to the noise. When I explained the situation to the manager, the girl in question was calling me all kind of "bastard's" and waving her arms like she was crazy.(I would have paid money to become a woman for one minute. But then again, if I had the power to be a woman for even one minute, I might spent that time fondling myself, not fighting, anyway) The manager, based on her actions, fired her on the spot. Then suddenly the boyfriend, who had arrived to pick her up I guess, tried to step up. My eyes lit up and I said, "Yess, someone who I can beat up" as I threw my hands up and talk shit. I must have looked crazy now that I think about it, a long haired dreadlocked dude who hadn't shaved in a week, wearing a John Carlos shirt where he was giving the black power symbol at the Olympics, because the boyfriend said, "It's cool man, I don't have a problem with you." I went back to my car and called my therapist, and in an act of defiance, or maybe she was getting some ass, she didn't answer. I sat in that parking lot and cried, because I wondered if I could ever control this, and what if my anger transfers over to how I deal with my kids?

It's just a card game: I have ruined some friendships over the years, but in this particular case I don't particularly care. I had been playing poker at my friend Jeff's house for about a month straight. It was cool because him and all of his friends loved real hip hop, and most of them couldn't play cards if their life depended on it, so leaving each game with 300 more dollars more than what I came with isn't that bad. This one night I was told by Jeff that his father would be playing, he had just gotten in town from Texas. Jeff kept warning me, "HumanityCritic, my dad is a character, so you have to take him with a grin of salt" At the time I took that as meaning that he was a "shit talker", not a full blown racist. We start playing and Jeff's father seems pretty cool, he is kind of quiet, but cool regardless. About an hour, a few drinks in him, and 200 dollars of his money in my pocket later, he started to piss me off something fierce. Besides him coming off like a complete racist, he kept saying that he would "cut me" if I walked off with his money. I told him, "You won't cut anybody, plus I gave you multiple times to win your money back. Face it, like when your welfare check doesn't come and your broke, you suck motherucker!!" As he got drunker and even more racist, I knew it was time to leave. It was weird because I took this situation to be a serious one, but Jeff and his friends laughed continuously and said, "HumanityCritic, that is just how my dad is!!" When I grabbed my money and started to leave, Jeff's dad reached in his pocket and pulled out a knife and said "Your black ass isn't going anywhere with my money!" I glanced at Jeff for some sort sign that he would control his dad but all he did was laugh. So I proceeded in kicking the old man's chair over with him in it ,grabbing the knife, and screamed "I should cut you Achilles tendon and stick a sock in your mouth!!"(I heard that in a Ludacris song and thought I would use it there, no one would know the difference)

Jeff was screaming, "HumanityCritic, don't hurt my dad!, then I said "Where was this outrage before!?" Then I did something that I shouldn't have, I took the knife and cut a clump of Jeff's fathers hair off and said, "Never pull a knife on me again" and started to walk out. When I closed the knife and threw it at Jeff to catch, he said, "Dude, did you just quote a line from Ludacris??" I didn't answer him, and thought about calling my therapist, but then again she reads my blog. What do you think doc??

Timeline of Bush's Incompetence concerning Katrina 8/25-9/1

(This is from airamerica)

The Beginnings of Hurricane Katrina:

Hurricane Katrina hit Florida late Thursday, August 25th, as a Category 1 hurricane. 9 people were killed. The storm then moved into the Gulf of Mexico, where it gained momentum and power. Below is a timeline of events over the next few days as the Bush administration ignored one of the biggest natural disasters ever to strike the United States.

Saturday, August 27th

Forecasters are predicting that Hurricane Katrina will hit Louisiana and Mississipi early Monday – and that it probably would be a Category 3 or 4 storm. Gulf Coast communities began to ask their residents to evacuate. Meteorologist warn that Katrina has the potential to be a major hurricane.

Bush was at his vacation home in Crawford Texas – avoiding Cindy Sheehan and the dueling protests outside his ranch and delivered his weekly radio address – asking for patience in Iraq – and saying that it will take more time for U.S. troops to complete their work in Iraq.

5pm – Mayor Ray Nagin called for a voluntary evacuation of the city. Greyhound & Amtrak stop service in New Orleans late Saturday Night.

Sunday, August 28th

At 11am - Mayor Ray Nagin orders mandatory evacuation of New Orleans. Experts predict that Hurricane Katrina will hit the city with all the force and power of a Category 5 storm – and that 60-80% of the city’s homes will be destroyed.

"All indications are that this is absolutely worst-case scenario," Ivor van Heerden, deputy director of the Louisiana State University Hurricane Center, said Sunday afternoon.

Bush is still on vacation at his Crawford ranch. He holds a press conference in a helicopter hanger at his Crawford Texas Ranch – taking a moment to urge Gulf Coast residents to evacuate before hailing the Iraqi draft constitution an inspiring success.

Governors of Louisiana and Mississippi request additional security forces from the federal government.

Monday, August 29th

Katrina hit land at 6:10am.

The storm hammered the Gulf Coast with huge waves and tree-bending winds. Exploding transformers lit up the predawn sky in Mobile, Ala., while tree limbs littered roads and a blinding rain whipped up sand on the deserted beach of Gulfport, Miss.

Katrina's fury also was felt at the Louisiana Superdome, which became the shelter of last resort for the area's poor, homeless and frail.

Electrical power at the Superdome failed at 5:02 a.m., but the backup power runs only reduced lighting and cannot run the air conditioning.

Entire neighborhoods were submerged up to the roofs. Numerous people had to be rescued from rooftops and attics as the floodwaters rose higher and higher.

President Bush hits the road to promote prescription-drug plan to. His first stop is Arizona, where he eats birthday cake with Senator John McCain and talks to senior citizens in Phoenix at a golf resort.

In late afternoon, there are early reports of broken levees. The National Weather Service reported that a levee broke on the Industrial Canal near the St. Bernard-Orleans parish line.

President Bush travels to Southern California to talk to more seniors about changes to Medicare. He also plays golf. He spends the evening in San Diego to prepare for a Tuesday speech commemorating the 60th Anniversary of the end of World War Two.

Tuesday, August 30th

Breaches in at least two levees allowed water from Lake Pontchartrain to inundate sections of New Orleans. Officials planned to use helicopters to drop 3,000-pound sandbags into the breach. Those helicopters were diverted to rescue missions.

An estimated 80 percent of New Orleans was under water, up to 20 feet deep in places, with miles and miles of homes swamped.

Unknown number of deaths.

Thousands remained in New Orleans Superdome, where storm ripped two holes in the vast roof; authorities forbid them to leave.

With a San Diego naval base and the USS Ronald Regan as a backdrop , the president made a speech to celebrate the anniversary of V-J day two weeks after the actual Aug. 14, 1945 anniversary. He compared WWII to Iraq and gave a fresh reason for American troops to continue fighting: protection of the Iraq's vast oil fields, which he said would otherwise fall under the control of terrorists. He spends 90 seconds of a 40 minute speech on Hurricane Katrina.

New Orleans Mayor, former Mayor, and Louisiana’s governor make continued appeals for Federal Aid.

Afterwards, President Bush plays a guitar presented to him by Country Singer Mark Wills, backstage following his visit to Naval Base Coronado, Tuesday, Aug. 30, 2005. He then flies back to his vacation home in Crawford.

Wednesday August 31st

New Orleans Mayor Ray Nagin says Hurricane Katrina probably killed thousands of people - an estimate that, if accurate, would make the storm the nation's deadliest natural disaster since at least the 1906 San Francisco earthquake.

Bodies are starting to pile up at the morgue in Mississippi's Harrison County, with 40 corpses having been brought there already. Authorities have said the final death toll in the county will end up well above 100.

Health and Human Services Department declares a public health emergency, sends medical supplies, hospital beds and public health officers.

Louisiana Gov. Kathleen Blanco asks the White House to send more people to help with evacuations and rescues, thereby freeing up National Guardsmen to stop out-of-control looters.

President George W. Bush and his top advisers held a video conference on the Gulf Coast disaster. Most of the staff was still on vacation and away from Washington. Afterwards he flew back to Washington to coordinate the federal response

Bush cut short his working vacation in Texas by two days. Vice President Dick Cheney was still on vacation in Wyoming. White House chief of staff Andy Card was still in Maine

As Bush returns to Washington he does a flyover of devastated areas on Air Force One.

The President makes a recess appointment. RNC sends a desperate appeal to cut the estate tax. Hastert says it’s a bad idea to rebuild New Orleans.

More than 20 countries offer aid.

That evening Condi Rice goes to see Spamalot.

Thursday, September 1st

In the face of report after report that the levees were known to be vulnerable – Bush does an interview on Good Morning America and tells Diane Sawyer that no one expected the levees to break.

Looting, carjacking and other violence spread in the Gulf Coast region, with even rescuers being attacked.

The New Orleans mayor estimated the death toll in his city to be in the hundreds is not thousands. He pleaded for buses and supplies for survivors, saying, "This is a desperate SOS."

Half a day after the military began evacuating the Superdome, the arena held 10,000 more people than it did at dawn. Evacuees thinking it's the best place to get a ride out of town poured into the Superdome and swelled the crowd to about 30,000.

Frustration grew among the thousands still awaiting help at the New Orleans Convention Center, where bodies lie among the living. Earlier, helicopter transfers of the sick and injured at the Superdome were suspended amid security concerns.

Bush discusses relief efforts with Diane Sawyer – plans to tour area.

1pm - Condi Rice goes Shopping for Shoes on 5th Ave.

Dick Cheney is still on vacation.

By the end of the day, approximately 7400 National Guard troops were to be in Louisiana, up from 4700 that morning.

The Senate and House convenes to issue $10 billion aid package.

Dennis Hastert goes to a fundraiser in Indiana.

In the "apple doesn't fall too far from the tree" department

The other day, as Barbara Bush, mother of George W. Bush, visited Houston where many evacuees are in the Superdome, she said the following:

"Everyone is so overwhelmed by the hospitality. And so many of the people in the arena here, you know, were underprivileged anyway, so this, this is working very well for them."

What in the is hell is her crazy ass talking about? What, since they are poor they should be content with sleeping on uncomfortable cots, hear crying children continuously, have the horror of many loved ones that are missing or confirmed dead on their mind, and having your home destroyed and seeing dead bodies floating around is a step up? Is that what you are saying Mrs. Bush?? She's nuttier than squirrel shit. She also said the following:

“Almost everyone I’ve talked to says ‘we’re going to move to Houston, What I’m hearing, which is sort of scary, is they all want to stay in Texas."

Yep, I bet a bunch of black folks would just scare the fuck out of you, you miserable bastard. "Return of the Living refugees" definitely sounds like a horror movie to George W. Bush and his inept administration. But statements like that is what gives Kanye's rant about Bush not "caring about black people" some weight. I know that we should respect out elders, and I shouldn't do this, but FUCK YOU Barbara Bush for letting us know how you and people of your ilk actually feel. FUCK YOU to all those conservative bloggers who thought that Kanye's statements were as ridiculous as a Bigfoot sighting, shit I'm still waiting on all you "compassionate conservatives" to explain Bush gutting FEMA, hiring two incompetent cronies to run it, and his Forrest Gump-like response to this tragedy. I also, while wearing a public enemy t-shirt and standing in my best B-Boy stance, want to say FUCK YOU to all those spineless, black-face wearing, stepin fetchit, house negro ass black republicans out there who apologize for Bush with the worst watermelon grins on their faces.

(Camera Crew pans in close to HumanityCritic ala Jerry Springer's "Final Thought" moment)

You know folks, I kind of feel sorry for Black republicans because you are running out of excuses to why you are one. You can't claim the whole "less government" argument because that flew out the window with this administration. Being against Affirmative Action is cute and everything, but being that Condi Rice and Clarence Thomas, two people against it, are beneficiaries of it kind of weaken your argument.(Colin Powell even said that he benefited from it, and is for it.) You didn't want to be a "tax and spend" liberal, OK, because now your dumb ass is a "tax and spend" conservative because the actions of this administration.

I always think that black conservatives were abused, the same way you find out that a hooker was abused as a child, explaining a lot about the woman that she became, because there has to be some explanation to why you love someone that doesn't give a fuck about you. Did other black kids call you "Ugly" as a child? Seriously, you can tell me..

Battle Scars

It has come to my attention, through countless hours discussing the topic with my therapist, that I am a shitty friend. Granted, I will be willing to fight for you, I will never betray you, and I will never fuck your girlfriend, but outside that I am am kind of lacking in the friendship department. Even though people would say that I am a social butterfly, when it comes down to it I am very much a loner, that probably has something to do with me being a shitty friend. Also because of me being hurt in romantic relationships and learning that people tend to let you down, I have found the same type of disappointments in regular friendships, adding to my "miserable friend" status. The last reason, one that is kind of difficult to admit, I can be somewhat inconsiderate if you haven't noticed. I went into that lenghty spiel because after my 32nd birthday I decided to change that and support a friend of mine at a talent show he was performing at.

OK, he is a country singer, it was a country showcase, and I spent the night the entire night desperately trying to find another black person.(The closest I got was an elderly white woman who spent too much time in a tanning booth.) My friend did great, but it was the singer that preceded him that really caught my attention. It wasn't that the guy was talented, he actually sounded like that cat that I accidentally ran over in my driveway, but he had a very interesting song. He sang about how "every scar has a story", detailing the specific events behind each scar on his body. It got me thinking about all of the scars on my body, and boy are there some crazy tales behind them. Here are a few.

Cigar Burn on Hand: Some years back I was invited to a album listening party for some artist who never made it. It was some guy from my area, from my High School to be exact, who was marketing himself to be a "gangsta rapper". For anyone who knows anything about my area, the Kempsville area of Virginia Beach Virginia, the only thing "gangsta" about it is the 2 hours that Snoop Dogg visited because of some girl he had planned to have sex with, that's it. Let me explain further, the rapper in question along with me, were 2 of 9 black seniors in my High School. His parents owned a chain of grocery stores, and to ruin his "gangsta" image even more I once had to pull this guy Keith off of him as he was on the ground in the fetal position. Anyway, I don't think he knew that I'd be there and it made him uncomfortable because I was the only one who knew the real face behind the "mask". All night he gave me dirty looks, had his crew give me dirty looks, the shit was downright ridiculous. It was even more silly because I planned on having a good time, just enjoying my night out, not fucking with him.

After about a thousand stare downs I plan to leave, because I feel an ass whipping coming on. As I am leaving, this "just add water" gangster starts to walk by me and this bitch ass burns me on the hand with his cigar, acting like it was an accident. When I tried to get at him all of his crew quickly showed me that they were packing heat, no they didn't have gonorrhea, they had serious weaponry consisting of every handgun ever made. As I left fuming, all I can see was him laughing with a couple of girls on his arm. His deadly mistake was that he forgot that I knew where his parents lived, who he was still staying with by the way, so a week later I decided to give him a visit. I went to his house 9 am one morning, he opened the door in a wife beater, yawning, not seeing who it was before exposing his jaw. I dragged him out his house and tried to beat that fucker like a bass drum, as his momma was screaming like a woman in church catching the holy ghost. I know I shouldn't have done it, and being handcuffed isn't the best thing in the world, but the fact that I have a cigar burn on my hand makes me want to beat his ass all over again.

Scar on arm: My ex-girlfriend, the one that ripped my heart out and showed it to me while laughing,(she reads my blog and we are cool now. How does it feel to make me never trust a woman again?? Just playing, sort of..) called me a couple of years back saying that this guy she knows claims I was cheating on her with another girl while we were together. I did indeed know that woman, she was a client of mine but nothing went on, so I can't tell if she lied to him or he was flat out lying himself. The funny part about the whole thing is that I wasn't even mad that old boy lied and said that I cheated on my ex, it was the part where he claims that the "other woman" said that I was "stalking her". For anyone who knows me, "stalking" is one of those miserable acts outside of being a black republican, snugging after sex, or paying to see one of those ghetto gospel plays.

I have never stalked anyone, and I was offended that he would lie like that. He's lucky that I don't...wait, OK, I did stalk someone, kind of, but I was 17, let me explain. My senior year of High School I was getting serious in-house pelvic thrust action, but I still had a girlfriend that I was dating at the time. Only an asshole like me would be concerned that my girlfriend was cheating while I got to know, on a daily basis, the insides of a 29 year old woman. Anyway, I went to investigate and see if my High School sweetheart was betraying our relationship bond, so I went to her apartment buildings to play Magnum P.I and shit. I couldn't go through the front entrance, so I had to climb a large ass fence and creep through the back way. I was never great at climbing fences, and my fear of heights didn't help matters, so as I climbed the other side of said fence my leg slipped and the two prongs of the fence scrapped the sit out of my arm. The fall was like 5 feet, I just laid there in the wet grass motionless. Right before I decided to get up I see my girlfriend walking some guy to his car, not too far from me I might add, kissing him and saying goodbye. When the guy asked, "What about your boyfriend?", she responded, "Fuck him, I think he is fucking the lady who is staying there anyway!" I just laid in the wet grass and silently giggled to myself, not because of the ironic position I had found myself in, but that I had a hot 29 year old piece of ass waiting for me who was better in bed than she was. Ahh, the memories.

Fake front tooth: It is amazing that at 32 years old I still ride a skateboard, doing Ollie's, flip trick's, grinding curbs, and skating pools. Of course my surprise comes from my advanced age, but also the fact that I had a lot of skateboarding injuries as a kid. But the one that stands out was when I was 15 years old, when I lost my front tooth in front of some fine ass girls. Back then, as most of you could imagine, a skateboarding black dude who liked everything form "Bad Brains", "Hall and Oates", and Public Enemy" wasn't really a cool thing to other African American females of my age at that time. But there was one, a diamond in the ruff as you will, named Brenda who dug all of my quirky idiosyncrasies. I was right at the point where I planned on asking her out because I was too much of a pussy to do it in the previous months, but better late than never I guess. So her and her friends come to see me and my friends skateboard one Sunday. We were kicking ass, and because I was showing off in front of Brenda I poured on the charisma, arrogance, and aggression with a passion. We then we started to skate a wall and do backside wall rides. That is basically when you approach the wall at an angle, propel yourself and the board against the wall and ride it momentarily, then come down. Well that day I wanted to try it front-side, which means that I would approach the wall and ride it facing the wall this time. When I did, the board hit me square in the mouth, I didn't know that anything was wrong until I spit out a tooth. Even though I was in the presence of females, HumanityCritic, ran home like a horrified bitch clutching my mouth.

The next couple of years were traumatic because the fake front tooth that they would give me wouldn't feel right, fit right, or look right. Let me tell you, you don't realize how many shades of white there are until you lose a tooth, I spent a great deal of time telling my dentist "Motherfucker, can't you see that shit doesn't' match!!" I felt like Whoopi Goldberg's character in "The Color Purple" because of the mass amounts of time I spent shielding my smile with my hand. They finally got it right and it looks like I had it all along, even though I sometimes still unconsciously shield my smile. If I ever meet any of you, just slap my hand away and say, "Stop that shit!", I promise I won't hit you back.

Election Night

(solitaire is pacing back and forth looking highly irritated, trying to desperately get a hold of HumanityCritic)

(Phone rings)

HumanityCritic: Ha-Ha. Hello?

solitaire: Where in the hell are you at?? What is all that damn noise in the background? You were supposed to be at Election Headquarters hours ago!!

HumanityCritic: I'm having a few drinks with some very nice ladies.(Takes body shot off of one of the women) Take it easy, it's Friday night, let a brother have some fun!

solitaire: Actually it's Tuesday and it's 11 Am. Are you trying to sabotage your political career with your recent antics? I mean, the "Birthday Hangover" post, your anger issues, and I just love the reports coming out of Washington where you went on a black Republicans blog and called him, and I quote, "a cocksucking assclown"? Nice, who are the girls you are partying with anyway?

HumanityCritic: The Bush Twins.

solitaire: What!!!!! Have you lost your nappy headed mind??

HumanityCritic: Come on, they are nice girls. Plus they are super talented.

solitaire: Talented?? Where is the talent in being young drunk sluts anyway?

HumanityCritic: Three words. No Gag Reflex.

solitaire: Ewwww gross! You could have kept that shit to yourself!! Come the fuck on, you are needed at headquarters!

HumanityCritic: OK, but your going to love this, I have these chicks trained. Check this out, OK ladies, Go!

Bush Twins:(in unison) Our Daddy is a punk Bitch!!!

solitaire: OK, that is pretty impressive. Now come the hell on already.

(About an hour later HumanityCritic arrives at Election headquarters, where his election team is frantically manning the phones, and about a million T.V's are tuned in to election coverage)

solitaire: You look a mess, you could have at least shaved Grizzly Adams!(fixing clothes and wiping his face with a napkin and some of her spit. You know, like mom used to do)

HumanityCritic: Heeey! You are my campaign manager and I have love for you and everything, but the spit-wipes are a bit much.

solitaire: You want to play the germaphobe now but you got mouth-hugs from those two presidential harlots? Who knows where they have been?

HumanityCritic: You have a point.

(Everyone focuses in on the television, where Wolf Blitzer on CNN is announcing the results of the election)

Wolf Blitzer: Ladies and Gentlemen, all the votes are in, and it looks like that lovable dreadlocked black bastard, The HumanityCritic has won in four categories at the BlackWeblogAwards!

solitaire: We won!! My parents, my friends, everyone told me that I was committing career suicide being your campaign manager, so you winning is absolutely great. Granted, you have the temperament of a 5 year old, make inappropriate advances towards women, sometimes come off as the biggest asshole on earth, and I think that your fighting issues come from the fact that you probably have a incredibly small penis, but you won!!

(Whole staff stops celebrating and stares at solitaire)

solitaire: Oops, Maybe I've said too much.

(camera shows the reaction of some people around the country to HumanityCritic's win)

Disgruntled Ex girlfriend watching coverage: After we had sex he used to say shit like, "Your money is on the table, get lost!" Fuck him!!

Disgruntled Blogger watching coverage: My blog is funnier than his, I was a writer for "Pootie Tang" for Christs sake, and was a contributing writer for the theatrical masterbate "Booty Call". Fuck him!

Homophobe I beat up watching coverage: That motherfucker tried to light me on fire like Richard Pryor. Damn that rhymed, Fuck him!!

(The next day the blogosphere sets up a beautiful acceptance speech parade with scores of people waving signs and balloons, beautiful women who look like they just got finished dancing in a Jay-Z video, and convertible low-riders as far as the eye can see)

(After Bill Clinton finishes doing the "cripwalk" dance with Hillary to the sounds of M.O.P and MF DOOM, who were HC's opening acts, Bill addresses the crowd)

Bill Clinton: Wheew, that was fun. Today is a very special occasion because a dear friend of mine, The HumanityCritic, has won at the BlackWeblog awards. America has spoken and..(suddenly fixes his eyes on the girl from the Outkast video "The way you move") Damn girl you got a fat ass!! Can a brother take a bite??!

Hillary:(slaps Bill on the back of his head) You motherfucker!!

Bill Clinton: OUCH! Anyway, America has spoken. Ladies and Gentlemen, the HumanityCritic!!!

(HumanityCritic roll up in a beautiful drop top, blasting Public Enemy's "Shut em down", with a joint in his mouth. He is with his security team, B.H.A.I.L, consisting of Amadeo, Iselfra, Luke Cage, and Belle)

Disgruntled Blogger in crowd: Booo!! Boo! You suck!

HumanityCritic:(To Luke Cage) Hit that motherfucker!

Luke Cage: No Problem! (Luke Cage smashes the blogger in the face, making his body of hatred fly about 30 feet)

HumanityCritic:(steps to the podium to address the crowd):Thank you all for coming. Last night was tough, but it was a great night.(Applause.) The voters turned out in record numbers and delivered an historic victory. (Applause.)

Earlier today, other bloggers called with their congratulations, which was sweet, especially because I was willing to bitchslap anyone who talked shit. But they were gracious, which a brother appreciates. The other bloggers waged a spirited campaign, but it just goes to show you that voters love to hear stories about titties, throat-chops, and my two minute love making. (Applause.)

The blogishere has spoken, and I'm humbled by the love and good will showed to a chubby black bastard who masturbates like it's going out of style. With that love comes a duty to serve all bloggers, and I will do my best to be the best blogger I can be, and occasionally beat up a black republican or two along the way.

There are many people to thank, and my family comes first. (Applause.) My mother, my backbone, the only person that can call me an asshole and I know it's coming from a place of love, thank you. I love you dearly. (Applause.) I want to thank solitaire, who not only acted as my campaign manager, but was the one that alerted me of the blackweblogawards in the first place. I want to thank Iselfra who told me "be sure not to fall off", words that stuck with me and inspired me to keep blogging. I want to thank Karsh for setting creating the blackweblogawards in the first place, and all the kind individuals that donated prizes. There are too many people to name, but most of all I want to thank all of you that voted for me. I appreciate your love and kindness and I hope you continue to visit my blog anytime, you are definitely welcomed with open arms. I share this award with all of you who made it happen(wiping a tear), so all of you take a bow as well.(Applause)

In closing, I will make all of you proud, I'll continue to be the same abrasive asshole with a penchant for throat-chopping that all of you have grown to love over the past year. Thank you so much! (Applause)

(HumanityCritic walks away from the podium, but quickly returns and says the following:)

HumanityCritic: Oh Yeah, George Bush doesn't care about black people!! I'm out bitches!!!(Throws microphone down)

Solitaire:(shielding eyes) I have got to find another line of work!

Kanye and Katrina

"You gotta love it though somebody still speaks from his soul:-Kanye West from the song "Diamonds of Sierra Leone"

People would think that Kanye West and I have a lot in common, we both grew up on real Hip Hop, we are both pretty fucking arrogant, and we are both self described assholes. But to be totally honest I am kind of indifferent to Mr. West, which I actually think is worse than hatred because at least hatred invokes an emotion. But when Kanye let out the following diatribe during a benefit concert on NBC Friday night for the hurricane victims, I have a whole new respect for the Chicago MC:

"I hate the way they portray us in the media. We see a black family, it says they're looting, see a white family, it says they're looking for food. And you know it's been five days because most of the people are black. And even for me to complain about, I would be a hypocrite because I've tried to turn away from the TV because it's too hard to watch. I've even been shopping before even giving a donation. So now I'm calling my business manager right now to see what's, what is the biggest amount I can give. And and, just to imagine, if I was, if I was down there and those are, those are my people down there. So anybody out there that wants to do anything, that we can help. With the set up, the way America is set up to help the poor, the black people, the less well off as slow as possible. I mean this is, the Red Cross is doing what they can. We already realize a lot of the people that could help are at war right now fighting another way. And they've given them permission to go down and shoot us."

Then after Mike Myers who was alongside Kanye read from the teleprompter, Kanye West ended it with the following salvo:

"George Bush doesn't care about black people."

Let me tell you, I haven't cheered that hard since Public Enemy gave the proverbial finger to John Wayne and Elvis Presley in the song "Fight the Power" during the opening credits of Spike Lee's "Do the Right Thing." Listen, I know that Kanye will probably spend the bulk of his career being socially insignificant, but to hear someone say what so many of us believe is quite refreshing. To see a performer have the balls to say something like that without fear of being "Dixie Chicked" is dope in my book.

So this morning I got up and checked out some conservative blogs, especially black conservative blogs to see what they were saying about Kanye West's rant. Of course they not only called Kanye everything from an idiot to an asshole, the black republican blogs predictably put on the black face and continued to apologize for "massa". Mostly saying shit like, "Bush doesn't care about black people?? yeah right Buddy, shut your mouth!!"

But lets wait a minute here, lets break down the legacy of our favorite draft dodger in chief. For one thing, when Bush was Governor of Texas there were over 150 executions. He would only spend minutes looking at the file, then he would hand it over to Alberto Gonzales. There were at least three cases where the defense attorney fell asleep during the case and the state of Texas refused to review it. Call me crazy, but just imagine all the innocent black men that were electrocuted.

I remember people saying, "I'm voting for Bush because of his morals!"

Then we have the fact that Bush is the first president since Warren G Harding to refuse to address the NAACP. Of course the NAACP came out against Bush, but they also came out against Reagan, even more so, and he still spoke in front of them. I have never seen a man that is supposed to be a leader, who is scared shitless of criticism of any kind.

I remember people saying around November, "I'm voting for Bush because he is for the people!!"

Now we have Hurricane Katrina, which not only was predicted to be a damaging hurricane where the Mayor called for an evacuation, but there are other mysteries around Bush's late response time. For one thing, FEMA(Federal Emergency Management Agency) warned of three of the most likely catastrophic disasters facing the U.S. before September 11th. 1. A terrorist attack on New York City 2.Flooding in New Orleans and 3.A San Francisco earthquake.(check besides 1 and 2) So besides knowing that the levies were weak, he not only underfunded Fema but merged it somehow into The Department of Homeland Security.

I remember people saying around November, "I'm voting for Bush because he is a leader!"

So we knew that the hurricane was going to be serious business last Friday and Bush not only made a big deal about cutting his vacation short, went golfing, played guitar along some country and western singer, briefly mentioned the disaster during a speech he gave, this is about as worse as the 7 minutes he spent looking like a deer in headlights in that classroom on 9/11. The response time is appalling as dead bodies are floating in the water, people are starving to death, and any other horrible thing imaginable. But then again no one has seen that miserable bastard Dick Cheney, and Condi Rice's Aunt Tomasina ass is off seeing a Broadway play and buying expensive shoes while a national tragedy is going on. The incompetence is amazing.

I remember when people said they were voting for Bush because "John Kerry looked french!"

Lastly, a good friend of mine name Malcolm is missing from the tragedy that we all know as Katrina. He got caught in the storm trying to desperately find his fiancee, now days later no one has heard from him. I desperately hope that he is OK, but things aren't looking too good. I spent a great amount of time today sitting alongside Malcolms mother, a woman whom I've known since I was 6 years old. As she clutched my hand and cried relentlessly I shed a few tears as well, not only because my good friend is possibly one of the casualities down there, but because I felt helpless as my good friends mother sobbed uncontrollably, gripping my hand tighter as each tear fell down he wrinkled face. Hopefully, my Bush bashing aside if you are a supporter of his, do what I did and give whatever you can to the people affected by this tragedy.

So, like it or not, I agree with Kanye West when he says that Bush doesn't care about black people. I'm sure if the location changed from New Orleans to Salt Lake City Utah, the response time would be rather different. But hey, that's just me, a throat-chopping black bastard with a blog.

Birthday Hangover(Part of a "Two Post" Saturday)

Let me start this post off by thanking all of you who wished me a Happy Birthday, I appreciate it very much. The love felt good man, it kind of made up for all the women who ever said that I was a miserable lay, kind of. The funny thing about the following post is that I had it ready Thursday afternoon, but I was so hung over from the previous night's shenanigans that I thought I had posted it when I really sent it to draft. The following post is simply a continuation of the birthday post, just outlining the specific events of the night of August 31st, 2005.

32 years old:(2005):I didn't really know what I was going to do for my birthday this year, actually I didn't have anything planned and didn't particularly care in the first place. I'm not one that shuns celebrations, but after the age of thirty I feel that festivities reminding you just how old your black ass is getting is somewhat disturbing. Around 7 P.M my friend Steven calls me and tells me to get dressed because we plan on, as he put it, "celebrating your birthday right!" Let me tell you a little about Steven, he is a British dude that I met about a year ago, he is one of the coolest guys I know. He is also the classiest motherfucker that I know, Oxford educated, rowing team, the whole nine. To be honest with you, I know that I probably offend all of his European sensibilities with my vulgarity and quickness to bitch-slap an asshole, but then again maybe he is a masochist. Anyway, I get showered, groom my locks, tighten up the beard, and put on my dress attire for that night.(i.e Public Enemy T-shirt, jeans, and shell-toe Adidas) When Steven comes to my house to pick me up for a "night out on the town" I notice that he has a troubling look on his face. I ask him, "What in the fuck is up with you??" He then proceeds to tell me that he has read my blog, at length, and that he had "no idea" that I was that violent. I point out to him that I haven't gotten into an altercation around him during the tenure of our friendship, so after I said that I put him to ease, but he still made me promise that I would be good that night.

First we went to a bar that I frequent just to grab a few beers, then proceed to more livelier entertainment later on that evening. Like anyone who is a regular at a bar knows, if you tell people that it is your birthday, people in attendance will give you free drinks like you are Tony Soprano. I'm having a great time, downing shots like it was an Olympic event, and talking to this hot Latina number named Diane. The I hear some asshole say, in my direction, "Fuck him, why are people buying him drinks. What does that girl see in that black bastard!!" I look at Steven and he gives me a "Please don't do anything" look so I ignore the guy at first. After 5 minutes of him cowardly saying shit under his breath I had enough. I walk over to him, grab the back of his neck and say, "Look, if you say anything else about me..Come to think about it, if you sneeze, breath heavily, cough, or say anything in the next 5 minutes, I am going to knock your teeth down your motherfucking throat!! I'm timing you motherfucker!"(Steven shields eyes in embarrassment) The funny thing is that the guy didn't make a peep after that, I then realized that I missed my calling, I would have made an excellent bully.

Next we go to this spot called "Jeremy's" that I had never been to before. I walk in and it was a dream come true, people dancing and enjoying old school Hip Hop. I gave Steven the same look a child gives his parents as they see a plethora of gifts under a Christmas tree on December 25th. For the next couple of hours I danced to "Pete Rock and CL Smooth", "MC Lyte", and other old school hits that I absolutely adore. Not only that, but the ladies were feeling me that night, I only say that because over the past couple of years my game basically consisted of the ever romantic line, "Umm, do you wanna fuck??!!" So you can only imagine the surprise that I got when women who smelled like heaven and had thighs from hell were laughing at all my jokes, hanging on every word, and treating me like a king.(I secretly think Steven paid them, but even if he did somehow that doesn't bother me. Go figure.)

At this point I am drunker than George W. Bush during his college years, but Steven had one more place to go. We went to some trendy bar called "Bardo"(I think) where we drank Saki and talked to these girls who thought Steven was the best thing since Internet porn. I wasn't jealous, not really, because Steven had already provided me with such a stellar birthday already. As these two fine ass chicks are talking to us I feel myself nodding off like a heroin addict, the only thing keeping me awake are the 4 caramel scoops of heaven that is the cleavage of the two women in question. My eyes were getting really heavy until I heard one of them say, "Hey, I got some weed back at the house!"

So we went there immediately and smoked some weed, at least that's what they said it was because it was weaker than a black republican's spine. I must of smoked 4 joints, totally smoking all their shit saying, "I have smoked Newports stronger than this!!" It turned out that I underestimated the strength of said marijuana because the next thing I know I am skinny dipping in their pool with some other girls who were in attendance. I vaguely remember singing Barry White songs to the ladies, telling them something about the "potency" of my "demon-seed", rambling about how "Boy George is my homeboy!!", and a whole bunch of other shit that I care not to get into. Even though I was high as a kite, I still remember walking around naked and noticing the women looking at my package, trying to figure out if they were giving me a "that sure is a beautiful penis" look or a "what are you a toddler with a penis like that" look.

Next thing I know it's 3:15 the next afternoon, dreadlocks all over my face, head pounding, but the covers were secure around my body like I had been tucked in. Later on when I talked to Steven I learned that the girls had drove me to my crib, walked me in, and tucked me in like I was 10 years old and shit. He also said that I could have known one of the girls "biblicly", the cutest one out of the bunch, but that plan was dead because of the fact that I almost threw up on her.(Only I can fuck up birthday ass!!)

Anyway, thank all of you for the kind words and the birthday love!!

Go Critic, It's your Birthday, We're going to Party like its your Birthday!

On this day, 32 years ago on the island of Oahu, Louise and James brought a bouncing baby boy into this world. That 8 pounds 10 ounces of caramel goodness would one day become the insufferable prick that most of you know today as the HumanityCritic. How do I put this delicately? It's my motherfucking Birthday!!! Not only is this day representing my 32nd year on this earth, but it is also the one year anniversary of this blog.(The exact date is a week from now, but its still close) So before I continue on with my nonstop bullshit and incoherent rambling, let me take the time to thank all of you for checking out my blog and the kind words you have thrown my way. I appreciate every one of you, sincerely.(Just make sure you fuckers vote for me here. You can get further instructions here. OK, the pandering is over.)

To be honest with you, looking back on my life, I am happy that I made it this far but I am also surprised. Surprised because since I saw a good friend of mine get shot when I was a kid I have kind of lived life with a reckless abandon, until the past few years.(I learned that interesting tidbit during a therapy session, Tony Soprano ain't got shit on me!!) This entry is inspired by all the memorable birthdays I have had.

10 years old:(1983) Even though me and my father didn't get along much, I think we both have a twisted sense of humor. I remember the days approaching my tenth birthday he kept saying that I wasn't going to get anything if I didn't behave. I thought he was bluffing and I dismissed his pedestrian threats. The day before my birthday he said, "OK, this is your last chance to straighten up your act!". I remember nodding in agreement, but having a "Fuuuck Yooou!" look on my face as he threw idle threats my way. My birthday comes and I wait, wait, then wait some more for some gifts or something, but I didn't get anything. My dad was like, "You thought I was bullshitting, you aren't getting a motherfucking thing!!" The sickest part is that my siblings or my mother didn't intervene in this madness, showing this lunatic the error of his ways. I remember crying myself to sleep, only to be awakened by my father, with him holding a cake and my mother coming in with a plethora of gifts. It was pretty shitty, and my father knew it, because it was the only time outside his final days on his death bed where he apologized to me.

16 years old(1989): Like most teens about to turn 16, I couldn't wait to get my license and cause absolute havoc. My parents didn't want me to drive at all, not because I couldn't handle the machinery correctly, but because they knew that I was nuttier than squirrel shit and would probably end up running some poor motherfucker over on purpose. Anyway, I got my license, and was ready to drive my Hooptie(Cutlass) around town. Lets just say that my first day of legal driving was a memorable one. My cousin, my friend Keith, and myself decided to get a shitload of eggs and tattoo passers-by like we were doing a suburban drive-by. Yes it was immature, yes it was childish, and it was mean to pummel random pedestrians with eggs, but I never laughed so hard in my life. Hearing the sounds of grown men scream in fear and agony as raw eggs exploded on their person is a memory that will last forever.

21 years old(1994): Believe it or not, before the age of 21 I rarely messed with alcohol. I mean, I would occasionally get hammered over some chicks house that I wanted to get to know biblicly, but those times were few and far between. My cousin's good friend, who became my friend eventually, was in town from New York to find a apartment because he planned on relocating. The day of my birthday we hung out all day, and I remember drinking nasty ass "Zima's" with him in the parking lot of a shopping mall. I was so drunk, in broad daylight mind you, that the only thing that I recall is saying wildly inappropriate things to anyone possessing a vagina that day and making a fool out of myself. Wait a minute, I remember that night being at the Oceanfront freestyle batting random rappers, still saying wildly inappropriate things to women, and still making a fool out of myself. Seems like things haven't changed that much over the years.

22 years old(1995): A year into drinking legally, I became the wildest I have ever become in such a short time period. Alcohol made a quick tempered, abrasive asshole into a quicker tempered, more abrasive asshole with a "hit first" mentality. At this time I was in a rap group called "See no Evil" with my best friend at the time and two of his cousins. We were actually kind of good, to the point that people around town started to know us for our rapping prowess. On this day 9 years ago we had a show at this Hip Hop club that I can't remember the name of. We were on the bill with a few other acts and we happened to go last that night. Our set went well, the crowd was responsive, and at the end I felt good enough to bust a freestyle rhyme where I gave the group that preceded us some love. When we get off the stage the group that I gave a shout out to had thought, somehow, that I dissed them. I tried to explain that I was giving them love in my freestyle verse but they weren't trying to hear it. After being on the business end of a few too many "I'm going to kick your ass' rants, I walked over to the the main one talking shit and smashed him over the head with a chair. The next 15 minutes was spent not only fighting that particular group, but also the host of the night that tried to break it up, and the father of one of the men that we were fighting. The night ended with a pair of handcuffs being tightly secured around my wrists. It just goes to show you that alcohol and a innocent freestyle rhyme sometimes don't go together.

Born on this Day:
Chris Tucker
Debbie Gibson
Eldridge Cleaver
Buddy hackett
James Coburn

Virgo's of Note:
Kobe Bryant
Dave Chappelle
Nas
Michael Jackson
Salma Hayek
Stephen King
Beyonce
Ludacris
Otis Redding
Moby
Ray Charles
Branford Marsalis
Cal Ripkin Jr.
River Phoenix
Elvis Costello
Lennox Lewis
Charlie Sheen
Damon Wayans
Raquel Welch
Gloria Gaynor("I will survive")
Richard Roundtree("Shaft")
Pink
Adam Sandler
Moby
Yao Ming
Fiona Apple
Dan Marino
Oliver Stone
B.B. King
Lance Armstrong
Jada Pinkett Smith
James Gandolfini
Bill Murray
Ricki Lake
Joan Jett
Bruce Springsteen
Gene Simmons
Sean Connery
Regis Philbin
Macaulay Culkin
Mother Teresa
Pee-Wee Herman
Gloria Estefan
Dr. Phil

Happy Birthday, Humanity Critic!

Your non-posting (except for today), but totally technical contributer.
-- manjula

"Weird Science"

It seems like when you are younger, you have high expectations of what your future wife will be. You see her looking like a modern day Dorothy Dandrige, with the an intergalactic I.Q, and a sense of grace and style that can't be paralleled. But when you look in the mirror and see a 31 year old, single, and childless prick, the bar gets lowered somewhat. Lowered to the fact that the only qualifications for being the next Mrs. HumanityCritic would probably be having a functioning vagina, and not irritating the piss out of me on a regular basis. OK, maybe not that low, but you get the idea.

The other day the movie "Weird Science" came on, a movie where these two geeky High Schooler's create "the perfect woman" ala Frankenstein-style in their bedroom. Granted, if I was in the position of making the perfect woman when I was a teenager I would have actually had sex with her, not be like those two douche-bags and plan parties and shit, but I digress. But it got me to thinking, what if I had the ability to make the perfect woman? I mean, not based on physical appearance, but based on personality and other important aspects contributing to compatibility. That's not saying that I want a woman who looks like Biz Markie, I'm not going to bullshit you. But being that I have dated women who were gorgeous but were miserable motherfuckers on the inside, physical attributes aren't particularly high on my list. Not only that, but if I did a post based on me wanting a woman with "Jennifer Lopez' ass", and "Halle Berry's face", I feel that the women who read my blog would send me hate mail for days. Shit, women already have to deal with what "society's" perception of what beautiful is, making healthy 12 year old girls want to go on a fucking diet. That shit is nuts. Anyway, if I was constructing the perfect woman, in my eyes, these are a few of the attributes she would have.

Musical Tastes: There are certain things that I have no problem changing about myself. One day I hope to be less of an overall asshole, drink less, be less abrasive, shit like that. But one thing that I won't change is my feeling that, like John Cusack's character in "High Fidelity" says so eloquently, "Its not what you're like, it's what you like!" It might be wrong, but the certain movies and music you like says a lot about you. My future wife, whatever poor soul that may be, would hopefully like music that I like or music that I respect. For example, she doesn't have to like old school hip hop or R&B like I do, but if she preferred classical or if she was a huge jazz aficionado, that would be cool with me. But if she liked the Ying Yang Twins, thought that Jah Rule was the best rapper ever, played Toby Keith's greatest hits on a loop, or had P.Diddy on her Top Ten Greatest Rappers list, her ass who have to go. It sounds childish I know, but I'm being honest, because if I don't respect your choice in music then everything you say to me concerning music from that point forward would sound like Charlie Brown's fucking teacher."Whah-whah-Whah"

Political Views: When it comes to the political views of my future wife I'd rather her believe what I believe, or be A-political, not really caring much about politics. Some people think that two people of different political ideologies can co-exist happily, and if they can then I am truly happy for them. Not in my case, because the first time I hear my wife say some shit like, "We have to support Condi Rice" simply because she is a woman of color, hear her equate opposition to the war as "not supporting the troops" or some mindless drivel like that, I would seriously consider putting a hit out on her. Just kidding, kind of. I just feel that I am argumentative enough, I don't want our political beliefs to be another stressful situation in our marriage. Plus, I can see it now, my wife holding back sex from me simply because I said that "Bush was a goddamn idiot with the I.Q of a lawn-chair." Imagine that, me not getting Bush because of Bush.

Doesn't need a Nascar Pit Crew to get ready: Ladies, I understand that many of you need your make-up and other cosmetics to get ready. In no way am I against that in any form or fashion. What I am against, having been in the dating game for 16 years now, is women who need like five hours to get ready. While you are outside some women's bathroom door you can actually hear a pit-crew, changing tires and oiling her ass up, ala a Nascar Race. Worse than that, women who feel that they need to put on a shitload of make-up, their best Sunday dress, accompanied with the matching earrings and scarf, just to go 2 minutes down the road to the store to grab a carton of milk. What kind of shit is that?? I'm not asking you to throw on sweatpants and look like Courtney Love in the middle of a 3 day heroin binge, but give me a fucking break already!

Understands men idiosyncrasies: The first time I meet a woman who understands that me being quiet for a 5 minute time span in no way means something is wrong, I will offer them my hand in marriage. Can't a motherfucker just be silent?!! Someone who understands that I don't have to like her co-worker "Chuck" because I'm pretty sure that he secretly wants to fuck you, so excuse me if we don't hang out and throw back a few beers. I would want a woman that knows that I have every right to be an absolute asshole to her friend, especially since she tried to hook her up with her "baby daddy's" homeboy a few months back. Lastly, I know for a fact that my throat-chopping days will come to an end when I get married, I would do what I could to keep my lovely wife out of harms way. But, I hope she will understand that after I drop her off from us hanging out, that I will return to the club we were previously at and quickly beat the living shit out of the dude who disrespected her and I earlier that night. Hey, some habits are hard to break.

Keeps me in check: You can ask some of the women that I have been with, I can be somewhat of a handful. But earlier on I realized that if I had the ideal woman that one of her traits would be her ability to not let me get away with shit. Not saying that I need a babysitter(unless you wanted to role play. hee-hee) , just a woman that isn't a pushover when it comes to my daily dose of constant bullshit. From my diatribes about the declining state of Hip Hop, hatred of Black conservatives, and Kobe Bryant apologizing, the woman who has the unfortunate task of being my life-mate will have to deal with a lot.(God bless her soul)I think what I need is a woman that can tell me how full of shit I am, and even tell my black ass to "Shut the fuck up" sometimes. I kind of like a demanding woman, not in a "I'm a dominatrix and I'm about to beat your ass with this leather whip" kind of way, but in a "I am woman hear me roar" kind of way. Now that shit is sexy.