Video of the Day: Public Enemy "By the Time I get to Arizona"

In a nutshell, this song pretty much sums up how I feel about Hip Hop right about now. Follow my analogy. When this song was recorded, Arizona had refused to recognize the Martin Luther King Jr holiday. Outraged, like many of us were, not only did Public Enemy decide to express they disapproval in song form, they had a video where they get the whole crew together and kidnap the elected officials of Arizona to get their point across, equipped with heavy artillery and Flava Flav to boot. Some people were offended that they would take such a militant and proactive stance, especially since the man who's holiday they were fighting for was famously non-violent, who had a "turn the other cheek" attitude. I understood that argument, but disagreed, because sometimes you just need to smack a motherfucker directly in the mouth to get their attention. If that doesn't work, slap the fuck out of the their loved ones, whoever, anything to let them know that you mean business.

That is kind of the way I feel about Hip Hop. Fuck all the niceties, forget all the "we should be more receptive to other forms of the art form" garbage, openly reject that notion that you are wrong by calling something "real" or "fake" because doing so insists that you think your opinion is better than everyone else's. What's wrong with that exactly? We need a little Hip Hop elitism nowadays, let the rappers who can't put two coherent sentences together know how you feel about their subpar brand of bullshit, be assholes I say, no more fucking Mr. Nice Guy, because that attitude is what made Lil John a household name, and has people thinking that Young Jeezy has any lyrical ability whatsoever. Long live P.E.

An Artist that a young cat Hipped me to: "C2C"

I know, I know, this is indeed a poor man's version of the "old head" segment that I do every week. No worries, this is only a one time occurrence, but I had to give love to a young dude that I befriended 6 months ago. In a nutshell, about 7 months ago I was coming out of my local convenience store with a box of rubbers, a 2 liter of soda and some potato chips, readying myself to give some woman the perfect date with HumanityCritic, when I saw two dudes trying to bully another kid out of his Moped. Usually I wouldn't get involved, and I had immediately made up my mind that it was none of my business, but when I turned around the dude getting bullied gave me that "please help me" look even though I was a complete stranger. I took about 2 more steps to my car, but quickly turned myself around because I just knew this pathetic little fuckers face would haunt me if something bad happened to him. So I walked up to the two boys bothering him and said, "What's the problem here?? Why are you dudes fucking with my boy??" Apparently kids today don't scare easy because one of them put his middle ginger in my face and gave me a very elongated "Fuuuck you!!", and the other was inching on me like he was going to do something. Then I asked them, "How old are you crumb-snatching bastards anyways??" In unison, like they were a part of some sort of white trash choir they said, "We're 19!!" My eyes lit up, so I asked the kid being bullied, "Are these assholes really 19??", he then gave me a nod and that's all I needed. I thought that I might try to talk these men out of hurting this poor defenseless boy, or in the least call the authorites before something bad happened. But I'm Humanity F Critic, the same guy who told a nun in catholic school that she has a nice ass, so I hit one of them with my newly purchased 2 liter until it broke open, and I hit the other one in the chest so hard that he clutched his chest for about 2 minutes like he was having a heart attack. As they ran off I couldn't help but to think to myself, "I really hope those dudes were really 19!!"

So from that point on Ronnie, the 17 year old dude that I helped was my new friend, sort of. I mean, I didn't want my neighbors to think I was some sort of pedophile, so when I would see him either on the basketball court or up at the convenience store that he would soon work at, we would talk mostly about Hip Hop. For a dude that was born around the same time that Big Daddy Kane's first album dropped, he knew a lot about old school, just proving that not all young people snap dance and think that Cam'ron is a lyrical mastermind. A couple of months ago when I saw Ronnie at the convenience store, he wanted to get my advice concerning how he should pursue an MC career that he wanted in the worst way. I paused, looked at him and said, "Regardless what happens, remember that you are white!", then I left. Cryptic I know, sometimes I like to be on some black Yoda shit, but I just hoped that he took what I had to say the right way. A couple of months passed and I hadn't seen the dude around, plus I was starting to feel sketchy about the advice I gave him, hoping that he didn't take it as some passive aggressive racism to keep him from becoming an MC.

Then, wouldn't you know it, but this red headed fuck stops by my house while I am cutting grass and tells me that he is going to some music school in California. I congratulated him, paused a few moments and said, "Did you understand what I was trying to say by the whole "Remember you are white" comment?" He smiled and said, "Yeah dude, you were trying to say that I don't have to try to be someone I'm not to be an ill MC." I nodded like a proud father, trying to contain my excitement and said, "Exactly!! You don't see Michael McDonald, Eric Clapton, or Hall and Oates needing to act black just because they were in a genre comprised mostly of Black folks!" Even though he said, "Who in the fuck is Eric Clapton and Hal and Oates??", I was too proud of the guy to throat chop him. Anyway, the clip above is of 4 DJ's from France that call themselves "C2C", three-time winners of the DMC competition. There are dudes that Ronnie hipped me to a while ago but I'm just now getting around to checking them out, and I must say they are dope. Tell me what you think.

2003 DMC Performance
2004 DMC Performance

C2C MYSPACE PAGE

Yesterday I voted for..*Gulp*. a republican.

Ok, the title of my post is a bit misleading since Jim Webb ran as a democrat, he turned to the democratic party during George W. Bush's administration. I could honestly get behind someone who finally saw the political light so to speak, but I guess the reason for my hesitant nature was that he was once Reagan's Navy Secretary. Of course his title didn't mean that he put women and children in gas chambers for Christs sake, but if you grew up like I did, in a house were the mere mention of old Ronnie's name would incite growls and snarls, it would give you reason for pause as well. But besides his Reagan ties, I learned that Jim Webb was awarded the Navy Cross, the Silver Star, 2 Bronze Star's, and 2 Purple Hearts. He has written 6 best selling novels, one of which was turned into the movie "Rules of Engagement" starring Samuel Jackson and Tommy Lee Jones. He speaks fluent Vietnamese and has done pro bono work in various Vietnamese communities, he also became the first Vietnam veteran to serve as a full committee counsel in the Congress. But most of all, In 1982 he first proposed, then led the fight for, including an African American soldier in the memorial statue that now graces the Vietnam Veterans memorial on the National Mall.

OK, OK, you got me, even though he has an impressive resume, I just think that he has the best chance to unseat that miserable fuck George Allen out of his Congress seat. It's true, Webb has military credibility, is a gifted writer, and has enough conservative leanings to attract many of the people that George Allen is betting on. Besides, even if Mr. Webb loses he puts a serious strain on George Allen's projected presidential aspirations in 08'.(See, he has to take Webb seriously, which is going to take time away from his presidential fundraising and campaigning) Oh yeah, let me show you why I think George Allen is a piece of shit.

*Campaigning for governor in 1993, he admitted to prominently displaying a Confederate flag in his living room

*When it was learned that he kept a noose hanging on a ficus tree in his law office, he said it was part of a Western memorabilia collection.

*In 1994, he said he would accept an honorary membership at a Richmond social club with a well-known history of discrimination--an invitation that the three previous governors had refused.

*He replaced the only black member of the University of Virginia (UVA) Board of Visitors with a white one

*He issued a proclamation drafted by the Sons of Confederate Veterans declaring April Confederate History and Heritage Month. The text celebrated Dixie's "four-year struggle for independence and sovereign rights." There was no mention of slavery. After some of the early flaps, a headline in The Washington Post read, "governor seen leading va. back in time."

*In 1979 he ran a radio ad decrying a congressional redistricting plan whose main purpose was to elect Virginia's first post-Reconstruction black congressman.

*In 1984, he was one of 27 House members to vote against a state holiday commemorating Martin Luther King Jr. The Richmond Times-Dispatch reported, "Allen said the state shouldn't honor a non-Virginian with his own holiday." He was also bothered by the fact that the proposed holiday would fall on the day set aside in Virginia to honor Robert E. Lee and Stonewall Jackson.

*That same year, he did feel the urge to honor one of Virginia's own. He co-sponsored a resolution expressing "regret and sorrow upon the loss" of William Munford Tuck, a politician who opposed every piece of civil rights legislation while in Congress during the 1950s and 1960s and promised "massive resistance" to the Supreme Court's 1954 decision banning segregation.

So yeah, I voted for Jim Webb in the democratic primary to face George Allen, and it feels that I made the right choice. So, Good luck Jim, and be sure to tighten that "noose" around George Allen's neck come campaign time, of course I mean that figuratively.

*Reference: Ryan Lizza "George Allen's Race Problem" The New Republic Online

Ask HumanityCritic

Over the past year and change, I have done this segment entitled "Ask HumanityCritic" based on the many emails I receive where people ask me questions on myself and my views on certain things. The past few times I've done these posts I've been asked weird questions about the curvature of my penis, if I knew the proper decorum when it came to the disposing of a dead body, and if I've ever shoved a string of beads up a chicks ass during a random sexual encounter. Suffice it to say some of the questions have been out there, but I always do my best to answer every email and answer the question they posed to me both openly and honestly. The most recent questions, to be totally honest, have been the best batch of questions that a chubby pre-ejaculator has received so far. So, after I emailed each of these individuals back and got their permission to post their questions, I present all of you with the latest edition of "Ask HumanityCritic".

"HumanityCritic, you always have great rants roasting black republicans. If you can, let loose on one of your tirades concerning republicans with melanin." Tameka Omaha, Nebraska

Well, I guess my latest gripe would be concerning black republican bloggers and the Duke rape case. Listen, if you are a black person who thinks that those Lacrosse players should be exonerated if they are indeed innocent then I'm cool with that, I want to see justice served just like the next guy. But my problem with black conservative bloggers that I have noticed is that they have championed those players like they are their own children, kissing the ass of their republican readership in a "hey, can I be a part of you club guys?" sort of way. Only House Negro scum would champion the cause of men that were proven, by eye witness account by the neighbors, to have slung racial slurs around the night of the alleged incident. I'm just saying, hoping that justice is served is one thing, but bringing out the pom-poms for some motherfuckers who think that you are a "nigger" is another.

"HC, I was wondering what you thought about the slew of rappers who have came out against Oprah? Shanice Detroit, Michigan

Even though Ludacris has legitimate points concerning the treatment he received when he was on her show, and Ice Cube has a valid argument when he complains that he wasn't invited to the show that featured the show "Black and White" even though he was one of the creators, but I just think that complaining about not being on a show is so "not Hip Hop". I respect Oprah for doing her thing, but when has Oprah ever been a friend of Hip Hop culture in the first place? Just like when Tom Hanks' character said in "A League of their own" that there was "no crying in baseball", well, there is "no bitching about Oprah in Hip Hop". I mean, Hip Hop has thrived on it's exclusion by people of Oprah's ilk in the first place, so when Oprah starts having rappers on regularly and doing a two part series on B-Boying then that might be the cause for concern, being the sign of the apocalypse and all.

"HumanityCritic, I am a black woman who follows the blogishpere rather closely. I have noticed over the past year or so that people have dropped you from their blogroll, which is their choice, but those same people still kept bloggers on their role who couldn't hold your blogging jockstrap. I was wondering, do you think that there is some sort of conspiracy against you in the black blogisphere?? And, do you think that people's exclusion of you on their blogroll is a compliment, because you are so popular that it seems like it is a concscious decion on their part to do so??" Marie Boston, Mass

Wow Marie, thanks for the love, I appreciate it. You know, I'm not everyones cup of tea so if they don't want me on their blogroll, or if they want to take me off their blogroll that I was once on then that is fine by me, it is a free country.(so I'm told) But yeah, I have heard that people have banded together to boycott my blog, which used to bother me, but now I see it as a compliment if motherfuckers have to organize a movement to hate on a brother. But yeah, I hate to admit it, but I have peeped my disappearance on some people's blogs that had me linked for the longest time. I kind of want to email them and say, "Removing me is fine, but you kept a chick who is a 3-six mafia fan and a dude who wouldn't know good writing if John Grisham ass-raped him, did my throatchopping references bother you that much?" Ok, thanks Marie, I now have a complex. But I guess all you can do is recognize bloggers who have been loyal since day one.(I think you just inspired a post!)

"Critic, you have the used the term "Real Hip Hop" in many of your posts. Some people view your ideology of "real Hip Hop" as nonexistent. Defend your point." Steve.. Queens, New York


Well Steve, people will find what's "real" and what's "fake" as a matter of personal opinion, and that's fine. But as the proverbial asshole that I am, I feel that certain things after a while stop becoming opinion and start merging into the factual category. Michael Jordan being one of the best basketball players stopped being an opinion and now is a fact, DJ Jazzy Jeff being one of the illest DJ's ever stopped being simply an opinion a while ago and is now fact, Wille Mays and Hank Aaron being two of the greatest Baseball players to ever put on a uniform is a fucking fact, Rakim being one of the illest to ever grip a microphone is one of those facts that mere peasants can't refute as well. To want to do away with the terminology of "Real Hip Hop", you would tell me that along with great artists like Rakim, Kool G Rap, the Roots, and MF Doom, that the Ying Yang Twins, Mike Jones, and lil Flip would be under the same umbrella? Fuck that. All that "lets be open minded and stop being so exclusive" crap is what got us in this predicament, and we see what happens when the fucking inmates are running the asylum. So I would tell people to be Hip Hop elitists, deem what you consider to be substandard Hip Hop "fake" and what you consider exemplary to be "real", because if you don't you might find yourself snap dancing and reciting Young Jeezy lyrics verbatim. Embracing your inner asshole and showing tough love is the only way we get Hip Hop off of life support.

"If you cut off your locks, do you plan to give them to kids with cancer?" Dee Charlotte, North Carolina

Yeah, I guess. I don't mean to sound indecisive when it comes to helping out kids with cancer, I'm all for that. But, I have seen too many movies involving voodoo and hair, so I just hope that my hair doesn't end up in the wrong hands. If my penis starts glowing in the dark, or I start bleeding motor oil, then I figure that my biggest fears of being cursed by a voodoo prietess will be confirmed, huh?

"What MC we you be checking for in the next few months?" Omega. Carson, California

You know, I really like some of Saigon's material so I guess I'm anxious to hear his album. But I'm scared that the label will get to him and he will turn out like 50 Cent. God, I hope not.

"You always tend to sprinkle metaphors and similes throughout your posts, proving that you never lied when you claim yourself to be a "frustrated MC". Do you have one to throw out there?" Emanuel. Puertorico

Lets see... "In the Blogisphere, I want you to feel my presence like Santa Claus was handing out dildo's!" How's that?

"What is one thing you have done that you regret, but at the same time still find funny as hell?" Jack. Norfolk, Virginia

A couple of years ago I was down at the beach with a couple of friends, frequenting clubs and whatnot, when I came across a mime. I wanted to hear him talk in the worst way, so I slapped the fuck out of him a couple of times before he said, "Stop!! You cock-sucking asshole!!" I shouldn't have put my hands on him, but it was funny though.

Video of the Day: The Coup "Fat Cats, Bigga Fish"

When people run down their favorite video's, they tend name legendary songs that are accompanied with just average videos, that seems to be the trend. This video is one of my favorites, based on the message that the corporate crooks are the biggest hustlers of all(a fact that I think is lost on many people nowadays), and how that actor in the video nails his lypsynching duties is impressive.

Keith Olbermann bitchslaps Ann Coulter

This video is in honor of a certain blog directory that I became a part of, against my will by the way, where you can see my blog listed amongst bottom feeders like Michele Malkin and a slew of Black republicans, one of which has a post co-signing with Ann Coulter's recent brand of idiocy.(ahem.. Get me off your blog directory dickhead) Anyway, watch how Keith Olbermann verbally puts a hand-print on the side of Ann "Skeletor" Coulter's malnourished mug. Please enjoy, this is one of the only times I condone a woman getting abused.

3 random things that I don't plan to tell my kids..

Every time that I feel that I would be an excellent father, based on my experience with a verbally abusive parnet and not wanting to be like that and how kids tend to think that I am funnier than Shaquile O'Neal in a spelling bee, I always do something to put extreme doubts in my head that I will ever win "Father of the Year" when I do spread my demon seed. For example, I spend a great deal of my time with the bass player in my band, my friend named Rich. Based on him being a single father, whenever we play basketball, golf, or catch a movie, there is a good chance that his son Jake will be accompanying us. It's not a problem since he is a good kid, and by interacting with the young man I always feel that the conversations I have with him will be good practice whenever I have a junior Humanity F. Critic. The problem is that I tend to give painfully honest answers, answers that an authority figure shouldn't be putting into an impressionable mind like Jake's based on the faces of anguish that Rich gives me whenever I say something irresponsible.

Like the time that Jake was telling me and Rich that an older girl at his catholic school was bullying him, punching him in the face whenever she got the chance. When Rich told him to tell the principle, he turned to me and asked for my advice, with Jake saying "Yeah Uncle HumanityCritic, what should I do?" I paused, thought about it, and said: "Why don't you walk up to her, pull he dress over her head the same way hockey players do in a fight, and beat her ass with your book-bag. She won't mess with you again!!" I guess that was the wrong answer, by the way Rich said "Don't do that!!" and immediately led his child to the other room. Or the time when Jake expressed that he didn't like football, and I told him that he should quit and try something else. Rich was pissed, but didn't say anything because Jake said, "But HC, my coach say that 'winners never quit and quitters never win!!!" In which I responded, "But he is 40 years old and coaches a little league football for christs sake, what in the hell does he know??" So, based on my clumsy interaction with my friends child, I have come to realize that there are certain things that I will never tell my children. Here are a couple.

A very dangerous habit: When I was in catholic school I was a terror, from asking the nuns why there weren't any pictures of a black Jesus to be found, the fights that I would have with other kids in my class, and the lustful pre-teen fantasies that usually had something to do with a girl removing her plaid skirt, nothing will come close to a prank I pulled at the end of a particular school year. Sister Catherine, a nice nun who probably was the best teacher in school, has a ritual of falling asleep at the end of class sessions. We left her alone, primarily because she was cool and gave us less homework than any other teacher. But, because I was a prick even then, I thought it would be funny to staple Sister Catherine's habit to her chair while she was asleep. After I did it, it was surprising that she didn't wake up based on my girl-like giggles and the sporadic rumblings of laughter from my fellow classmates. When the bell rang and we all got out of our seats to leave, all you could see was sister Catherine struggling to get up, arms flailing, wondering why she couldn't get her ass out of that chair. Everyone just laughed and kept it moving, avoiding being fingered for this particular crime, except for me because I stuck around admiring my work, just laughing my ass off. Thank god we were passed the whole "ruler on the knuckles" phase at that point, because my only punishment was a few days of detention.

Don't Drive Drunk: When I was in High School, my gym teacher lived on the same street that I did. Usually that wouldn't mean shit, but based on the fact that he was a raging alcoholic that would stumble in his house every night after parking his car crooked in his driveway, I knew that this bit of knowledge would serve me well eventually. When my senior year came around, and my gym teacher started drinking heavily at my neighborhood bar on weekdays, I knew how I wanted to fuck with his mind. Around 2 in the morning on a weekday, me and my friend Daryl waited for our gym teacher to get home after a night of heavy drinking. He pulled into his driveway, damn near ramming his car through his garage door, literally stumbling in his doorway like he had been on a three day drinking binge. That is where me and Darryl came in, strategically splashing this red substance in front of his car to depict blood like he had hit someone in a drunken stooper. It was wrong, and a very mean thing to do, but at the time it was the funniest shit imaginable.

The next day while I was shooting hoops in gym, I noticed our gym teacher pacing back and forth outside, chain smoking so severely that you would have thought that his head was a fucking barbecue grill. You know what, I don't know where he is now, but I didn't see him come home drunk for the rest of that school year.

Potent Piss bombs: One thing that I miss now that I am an adult far removed from childhood, is the anticipation that I used to feel right before going to summer camp. I mean, you can't beat staying active during the summer months, continuous swimming, the chance to see female campers naked, and hoping to receive the coveted "inappropriate touch" by the camp lifeguard Ms. Shields as she tried to guide me through a brand new swimming maneuver as I fought back my pre-teen chubby. Anyways, at the end of each summer they would break us up into teams and we would have an all out water balloon war. Yeah, it sounds lame, but since the older kids would make it their business to pummel you into oblivion with their more developed throwing arms, this particular year I wanted to get my revenge. So what I did, which gets nastier each time I retell this tale, was for about 2 days straight I filled about 20 balloons with Humanity F Critic homemade urine. That's right, piss balloons that I stored for the battle that was just on the horizon. Funny thing was, even back then I was aware that I should keep things to myself, because I knew that if I had informed my teammates of my evil plot that it would get out faster than Tevin Campbell in a whore house.

The day arrived and I was set, my arsenal of what was then extremely stale piss bombs, ready to meet their destination of what would be the heads of all the older fucks who messed with me one time too many. Even now I giggle as I think about my accuracy that day, and how many times the phrase "What did you put in those balloons?" escaped the mouths of people that I had just doused with my urine Grenades. I don't know how many people I drenched that day, but most of the campsite that day smelled like the urinal at an all day ZZ Top concert. When people got sick I just knew that I would get caught, but I didn't, that just taught me that if you plan to do dirt then keep that shit to yourself.

HumanityCritic's glossary of terms

As someone who isn't that reliant on slang terms and feels that I have the ability to relate to people from all walks of life, I considered myself a sort of dread-locked chameleon so to speak. Like a seven footer who can rebound, block shots, but on top of that has serious handles and has the ability to shoot three's with ease, I kind of got arrogant with my versatility when it came to relating personally with a plethora of people, period. Alliteration aside, my world came crashing down around me recently when people that I was have been conversing with started giving me looks like I had just shit myself, pinched a nuns ass, or openly bitched about Oprah's treatment of rappers.(Pick your offense.) I have noticed that I, Humanity F Critic, tend to use my own brand of slangology that I create and use quite regularly, and forget that the people that I am talking to aren't in on the history of said slang. That being said, because I love all of you fuckers who read my daily drivel, and hope that your knowledge of "Critic" speak will enable you to buy me drinks faster if we ever get drunk together at one of those fucking "Blogger meet-ups", here are a few terms that are in my every day vernacular that I sometimes consider "normal".

Fuck on:(Verb) Because I'm such a lazy bastard and try to be as economical as possible when it comes to my phrasing, when I want people to vacate my personal space I simply say "Fuck on". Short for "get the fuck on".

Punk:(noun): I don't know if this is homophobic or not, so let me apologize before hand to all my gay brothers and sister out there. But the word "punk", in my vocabulary, is any man that was straight when they went into prison but somehow had a gay lifestyle forced upon him while they were in the penal system.(Penal sysytem, hee-hee) Sentence: "I knew that Ronny became a punk in prison when his lady told me that he only went in her "backdoor" during sex, and screamed out his prison number while climaxing."

"sucker for love ass trick":(noun) A term that I hijacked from early 90's west coast rap, this term describes any of my friends that acts completely out of character because of his love for a specific female. Sentence: "Hey, did you see where John bought his lady a new car after he found his two brothers and father plugging all three of her holes like a person about to throw a bowling ball? Sucker for love ass trick!!"

"setting picks"(verb) Simply put, this is when another man impedes your process of getting to know a girl biblically. See "Cockblocking" Sentence: "Why are you setting picks man?? She was going to go home with me before you told her that I collect the underwear of women I am with sexually, and that I can only ejaculate to Public Enemy records."

S.A.D.A.B:(verb) When you aren't in a relationship with somebody and only enjoy their company of a special someone if a sexual act is involved, you really don't want to talk about their family history of heart ailments or Geo politics. This goes for men and women, sometime you just want them to be on some hit-man shit, leave right after the deed is done. For those who "know when to fold em" so to speak, these beautiful individuals are classified as "S.A.D.A.B's"(Suck A D*CK AND BOUNCE)

Serpico:(noun) Based on the 1973 movie in which Al Pacino plays an honest cop amongst widespread corruption, I use the term "Serpico" to describe any overzealos cop. Be careful though, if a cop catches the reference you can be in a world of trouble. For example, I feel like I could have avoided a trip to court if I hadn't said, "Chill the fuck out Serpico, the doughnut shop is only a few blocks away!!"

"Clown Car": I love kids, and I respect all of the single women out there raising kids on their own, no doubt about that. That being said, "Clown Car" is a term I use for women who have like 8 kids by the age of 23 and shit. Sentence: "Jesus Christ man, she has so many fucking kids she doesn't have a vagina, she has a god-damned clown car!!"

"The Diet": Any extreme drop in pounds do to what I feel is the most dangerous weight loss drug out there, no not Trimspa baby, but crack cocaine. Example. I had a drummer who had lost a lot of weight suddenly, and rumor had it that he had a massive crack addiction. When I confronted him with it I used the term "the diet", in which he thought I meant literally, so we spent about 10 minutes talking in circles like a horrible "Who's on first?" rendition.

"Douche Baggins": This describes any freakishly short fucker who feels the need to play the tough guy because he is insecure about his height. For example: I was in a club when a midget decided to get in my face, ok, in my knee, and talk straight shit into my lower thigh. That's when I grabbed him and said, "Listen douche baggins, I will shot-put your ass across this club like I'm going for the American record, and not give a fuck.."

Artist of the week that a old head told me to check out: George Benson

This week I had it in my mind that if Saxophone Willy gave me another name of an artist that I was already familiar with, that I would walk straight the fuck out of that dingy ass jazz club that he frequented like a petulant child, leaving with the bottle of booze that I had purchased for him. It's not I'm even that upset, but if I'm going to support someones spiralling journey down alcoholism lane and ignore the sexual advances of the many chicks of questionable sexual backgrounds who drink there because I stopped playing Russian Roulette with my cock, I at least wanted something in return. So, as I walked passed the door-man with a slight limp brought on by the battle of booze in my pocket, I see Willy sitting in the middle of 4 women like he is at a pimp of the year convention, waiting to see if he will recognized for his macking skills and an ever so accurate "where the fuck is my money" backhand.

The women around him were fine, but they looked like they had been around the block more often than your local trash man on his weekly route. So I said, like it was some sort of drug transaction, "Willy, you will get your booze if you give me a name. Shoot!!" He took a sip out his glass, looked up at me, and nonchalantly said, "George Benson". Frustrated, I said "George Benson"?? I know who that is, I'm gone man, fuck this!!" He urged me to stop, and when I did and told him that I probably knew more about George Benson than he did, he gave me about a 15 minute lecture on some George Benson information that I knew nothing about. I was humbled, in front of some fine pieces of ass no less, but he could still tell that I was disappointed. That is when he waived his hand and the women he was with, got up, sat besides me, and started rubbing my chest and playing in my hair. Shit, if he thought having a few hot women get me all hot and bothered was going to make me calm down, well, he was right. I'm an attention whore, and even though I am a sex fiend, I am also a germaphobe, so I smelled the cheap perfume and could tell what kind of women I was dealing with the same way a wine connosueir can tell you the year of wine they are about to drink.(*sniff*sniff* Vintage whore, 1975) That being said, this weeks artist is George Benson.

George Benson, born and raised in Pittsburgh, was a professional musician by the time he was three years old. Starting off as a jazz instrumentalist, when he was 21, he recorded his first album entitled "The New Boss Guitar." Benson, who many feel is one of the best guitarists in Jazz history, has often confused critics who try to paint him in a box but can't due to how versatile a performer he is. Able to play any style ranging from Jazz, be-bop, to pop, his amazing vocals are often overlooked because of how powerful a guitarist he is. With 60 albums under his belt, 8 Grammy's, and hits such as "Breezin'", "On Broadway", and "Give me the night", it is easy to see the musical excellence that qualifies this man as a legend. For all of you not familiar with George Benson, he played the guitar on Mary J. Blige's "Seven Days" record. That being said, check out my myspace page and listen to Benson's classic song "Masquerade".

Rest in Peace Billy Preston

By simply hearing certain songs, or certain artists in general, you can be transported to a place or time as if you had taken the most famous 85' Delorean on a joyride. Whenever I hear the song "Scenario" by A Tribe called quest, I am immediately transported to my car 5 minutes after I witnessed my father die as I clutched his hand. Sobbing uncontrollably for the first time in a decade, I mouthed the words to this famous posse cut as I fought back a waterfall of tears, a bad rain storm, and that "after a full day of visitors, why did his ass wait for me to get there to die!!" feeling. Whenever I hear the Sade song "Your Love Is King" I am placed back in the bedroom of Joanne Carter, about to lose my virginity, possibly not making it past the first verse before premature ejaculating all over her New Edition bedsheets.(maybe this is too much information, but before "releasing" on her bedspread with "Ronny, bobby, Ricky, mike , and Ralph" on it, I screamed out, "Can YOU stand the rain fellas??!!") Music, my lifelong friend, has the ability to make past memories become much clearer instantaneously.

I brought all of this up because the man that died yesterday, Billy Preston, by the hundreds of times the story was told to me brought my mother back to a very important memory for her. My maternal grandfather, a man who was by all accounts a great man, I never knew because he died right before my mother was pregnant with me. So you could guess that the loss of such a great man to my mother, who is the oldest of four children, would be one of the most devastating things that she has ever had to deal with. My mother, a very emotionally strong woman who keeps her innermost feelings close to her chest like the most untrusting poker player, stares off into space when talking about a Billy Preston concert she had attended around the time she had buried her father. The way she explains the master musician he was, the vocal range that the man possessed, and the electricity he brought to the stage, I understood when she told me that his brilliant performance was the only thing that could momentarily keep her mind off losing the greatest man she would ever know.

Billy Preston, born September 9, 1946 in Houston, Texas, started his legendary musical journey by learning to play the piano on his mother's lap as a kid. Reading online most people claim that he will best be known for his work with "The Beatles" which is fine and all, but I heard so many Billy Preston records as a kid on Saturday Mornings, I think millions of his fans would point to his own signature material to stand on it's on. He was the first musical guest on Saturday Night Live, Miles Davis titled one of his albums after him, and by his work with the aforementioned gentlemen from Liverpool, he is one of the only musicians given the title as the "Fifth Beatle". Preston worked with artists including The Beatles, Sam Cooke, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Eric Clapton, Sammy Davis Jr., Sly Stone, Aretha Franklin, George Harrison, The Jackson 5, Quincy Jones, Bob Dylan, and The Rolling Stones. Preston, who subsequently died of kidney failure yesterday and had battling kidney problems for the longest time, still contributed to the Red Hot Chili Peppers song "Warlocks" on their recent "Stadium Arcadium" release. Even though he was ill and bed ridden, after hearing the tape that the band gave them he jumped up, recorded his clavinet part, then went back to bed.

Billy Preston, dead at 59.

"My Sweet Lord"

Quote of the Day.. My Mother

My mother, a person who I thought regularly read my blog anyway, actually sat down for a few hours and read as many posts as she could get through. When I saw her later on, this is what she said.

Mom: "Jesus fucking Christ HumanityCritic, your moral compass has no needle!!"

Creating the Perfect MC: On some truly Dr. Frankenstein shit..

The other day, as I sat in the coffee shop area of a Barnes and Noble, sipping on some overly priced caffeinated beverage, flipping through a couple of magazines I was interested in with a relationship book sitting in front of me entitled "Men are from Mars and Women want the Penis"(something like that) just so I could fool all the hotties in close proximity that I was indeed "deep", a young woman asked if she could sit at my table. I obliged, not because it was the right thing to do because there weren't any seats left, but because I would love to tell my homeboys a deviant sex story that started off with "OK, she sat right beside me at Barnes and Noble and.." As we sat there, me looking at a Melissa Milano photo spread trying not to get aroused in front of a bunch of book lovers, her writing feverishly in a three ring binder like she was taking notes off of a college professor who talked entirely too fast. I waited a while to engage in conversation, primarily because I didn't want to come off as a guy who was trying to get in her panties, disguising it as simple "curiosity".

OK, I did want to get in her pants like a bill-fold, but I asked her what she was writing regardless if I came off as a man passively aggressively trying to give her an amateur breast exam some time in the future. Apparently, because she wants a husband in the worst way, she was writing all the qualifications that she feels her future husband must have. Sounds reasonable enough, until I saw the list and noticed that she had over 300 things listed. I attempted to tell her as nicely as possible that if she stuck to that list she would be a 50 year old woman, with a house full of fucking cats, wondering why a man hasn't met more than 20 of her goals on a list that would then be up in the thousands. She asked me what my qualifications for a woman were and I said that she must love Hip Hop, have a pulse, have a respectable I.Q, be a dirty slut in the bedroom, and not fucking bug me.(hey, when you are a chubby pre-ejaculator with anger issues you have to set the bar low, like "midget limbo" low to be exact) She giggled at my silliness and agreed that her list was "a bit much", but defended it by saying that she had a lot to offer and wanted to make sure that she didn't settle for less. Some people might find her saying, "I'm highly educated, speak three languages, own two homes, and have a fat bank account. I can't marry a mere mortal!" as some snob shit, and it is, but as the president of the technical school that certifies assholes, that's right up my motherfucking alley!!(I was going to step to her, but I break like 7 of her first 10 qualifications. Fuck!!) But then she said something that intrigued me, she said "But if I could be Dr. Frankenstein and make the perfect man based on these qualifications, I would be a happy camper!!"

Then I got the bright idea, no, not play Frankenstein and construct the perfect woman based on the qualifications I feel a woman must have, I feel that my female readers would be mad if I just had "must be able to make cheese eggs" and "can't have a gag reflex", so I thought about building something else. So, based on the angry emails I get based on my old "Greatest of All times" lists, the people that they feel that I left off, and their suggestions informing me that they don't fucking know what an MC truly is, I decided to go to the lab. So I got my doctor scrubs, a couple of battery chargers, and downloaded some of the best Hip Hop Albums ever to..CREATE THE PERFECT MC..

Lyrics, Flow, and Content: Ever since I have had this blog and preached the importance of a Hip Hop artist being exemplary lyricists, some people have attempted to defend their favorite lyrically challenged artist be saying, "Not everybody can be a lyrical wordsmith!!", and that is true. But get one thing clear, one someone makes an observation of an NBA player and says that he's "Not a good three point shooter" it's not because he doesn't want to shoot threes, it's that he has tried to shoot three's at some point in his career and unfortunately he found out that he sucks at it. So please, don't insult my intelligence by saying that Young Jeezy or artists of that ilk choose not to be supreme lyricists, because everyone wishes they could shoot three's.(so to speak)

That being said, if I was building the perfect MC, I would make sure that he or she would have a mastery of words that would make spelling Bee judges scratch their collective heads. My MC would never dumb down their lyrics just to acquire a fan base, often pushing the envelope intellectually on some "if you don't understand what I'm spitting then look it up dumb ass" type of attitude. Whenever I have listened to an artist with a lyrical prowess, I will even sit through a wack track they are spitting on just to see what will come out of their mouth next, my Hip Hop creation will have that affect on people. Metaphors, Similes, ability to change styles just enough to be considered versatile but not schizophrenic, and a ability to come with topics ranging from violent street tales to the effects of Global warming on the world we live in.(OK, maybe bot global warming, but you get the fucking point)

Swagger: Being a Kobe Bryant fan I have been privy to some of the stupidest shit to ever escape human lips, and tops on that list is when people say that he's "arrogant" like that is some sort of winning argument. Besides the obvious problems with that critique, them not knowing the man personally and all, given the atmosphere of competition that Bryant is in, when did being arrogant become a bad thing exactly?? Don't you want your favorite boxer to think that he is the baddest man on the planet, don't you want your favorite quarterback to think that he has laser-like accuracy when throwing that pigskin, don't you want your favorite porn star to feel that she can vaginally take in a horse like it's no problem??(OK, bad example..) But the MC that I create will be the biggest, most arrogant asshole when it comes to his/her belief that they are the greatest thing to ever hold a microphone apparatus in the history of Hip Hop. I understand that it would make them an insufferable prick, but that swagger could do nothing but help them on the Mic, that air of confidence dripping from your speakers. That being said, I would have to adjust my computer and make sure that my new creation wasn't an asshole to fans. This will be tricky.

Freestyle:You know how ugly people are the only ones to say that "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder"? Well, people who can't freestyle, or fans of artists who can't freestyle are the only ones who belittle free-styling as an unimportant facet of the art-form. Free styling, for some of the greats that I have admired over the years, seems like it is a gift from god, like the man above gave certain people impromptu rhyming abilities that some of us just don't have. But a trick to free-styling, which I can attest to, is continuous practice to the point that your mind stores a Hip Hop rolodex of rhyming words in your head that aids you when "going off the top of your head". The naysayers should understand the upsides, like coming up with words faster when writing a verse, being able to battle a public detractor of your work and not hearing the words "hey, that verse came from track 4 of your album!", and if you ever forget lyrics during a live show a freestyle can put a band-aid on the situation until you get back on track. Hell, I've seen famous Hip Hop artists sound horrible free-styling, but I gave them major points for simply attempting it. That being said, this is an ingredient that I would make sure my new creation was equipped with.

Stage Show: The worst thing in the world outside of being a black republican and getting anally raped(so I've heard), is seeing your favorite MC stand in one place during one of their concerts. I'm just a simple man who likes eggs in the morning and my women to wear catholic school uniforms before we have sex, I'm not asking that you put on a MC Hammer-like performance with a thousand dancers and pyrotechnics and shit. All I'm asking for is an entertaining show, one where you rattle off your hits and perform minimal "new shit" as possible, have your DJ keep our collective heads nodding while you get the crowd pumped up like if someone simulcasted a Farrakhan speech at a Klan rally. A great example of this was during greekfest 1990, a year after the huge riot that took place there that caused my hometown to be known internationally, and one that was documented in the Public Enemy song "Welcome to the Terrordome". Anyway, me and my friend had went to see KRS-ONE perform at one of the stages they had erected at the ocean front. For some reason the crowd was dead, and the "Blast Master" noticed this and started performing his ass off until he saw that Coke was sponsoring said event, then went on a 10 minute "The Coke company ain't nothing but a bunch of fucking drug dealers" diatribe. Because of this the organizers cut his mic off, forcing KRS to finish the show through a megaphone, now that's Hip Hop!

Hip Hop fans, what should I add to make my creation complete??

My Twisted Logic: What went wrong with the following relationships..

Let me say this immediately so people out there don't get it confused, when it comes to 99.9% of the relationships I have been in, I am the sole reason for the demise of said relationships. Whether it is my all around laziness, me being unavailable emotionally, my inconsiderate nature, the fact that I have a porn vault, or me having intercourse with other women, I can be a man about it and except the responsibility of being the insufferable prick in those relationship equations. That being said I only see the error in my ways through the luxury of hindsight, immediately after the death of those relationship I had a totally different view on "who's fault" it was. Again, ladies, I am the bad guy here and I see that, this were just my feelings immediately after "the break up".

Woman #1: Have you ever had such a bad experience with someone that you say silly shit like, "I'm not ever fucking with someone from New York again!!"? That sums up woman #1 to a tee, a well meaning person, but a broad with so many emotional scars you would think she moonlights as a baggage handler in her spare time. She was very untrusting of men so when I came over her house late she would assume that I was with another woman, which I was, but I always felt insulted because she wasn't Nostradamus!! We would constantly argue about things that I thought were silly, you know, me failing to call her, coming to her house constantly high, us hardly going out, and me telling her that I thought her sister had a "phat ass" during sex. I guess she got fed up with my antics and she found relief in the arms of another man, something that she sobbingly admitted to me soon after. I took her back, not because everyone should get a second chance in life and we "all make mistakes", but because I wanted to be with her long enough to fuck one of her co-workers that I had my eye on. When she found out that I had "relations" with the girl in the cooking wear department she broke up with me, and my only response was, "But we're even now, now we can be a happy couple again!!! Don't leave!!"


Woman #2: This is the woman I met immediately after I received the pink slip from my 5 year relationship. I told her this, even though I didn't have to because I'm sure I had the words "pathetic and sad bastard" carved on my forehead. She was a cool person with a lot of great qualities, but even after a couple of years and my heart healed somewhat, I guess I couldn't get the "you are the first chick I met after I was devastated" taste out of my mouth. When I realized it I flat out told her that I didn't want to be her boyfriend, and to stop "wasting her time on me". The problem with that is I think she took my blatant honesty as simply a guy "afraid of love", so she was persistent to make a relationship with the man you all know as Humanity F Critic work out. Eventually she got the point, even using my words back at me by saying "You know, you ARE a cancer!!" before she told me about a new guy she was seeing. Even though I felt her verbal attempt to feel better about herself was a bit contrived, I am glad that she didn't waste any more of her valuable years on a guy who would just blog about her anyways..

Woman #3: This by far is the only ex that I'm cool with, probably because we share a love for independent movies and other nerd shit like that, she is a great person. We were together a couple of years, she stuck with me even though I was the worst boyfriend imaginable, I hardly saw her and when I did see her it always ended up with us folded up like origami. I guess the obvious question you have besides wondering if I indeed am a chronic pre-ejaculator, is "If she was so cool and you two had so many "like" interests, why were you a shitty boyfriend??" Well, it has to do with cell phones, let me explain: I don't trust a person as far as I can throw them, and with my bad back you can imagine how little that is, but once you do something that betray's my trust in the slightest I shut off to you emotionally. Well, whenever she was over and I would return from the bathroom, or I would return back to our table at a restaurant, I would notice her constantly quickly putting away her phone like she had something to hide. I don't know, maybe it was just one of her quirks, but from that point on it did something to me and caused me to treat that relationship as casually as possible.

Woman #4: An old rocker gave me some solid advice once, he said "HumanityCriic, lesson one, don't fuck your fans!!" I understood where he was coming from, not wanting to ruin someones myth of you with a subpar bedroom performance, and the legal ramifications it might lead to, but based on the source I had to question the legitimacy of this rocker's advice. I mean, dude was like 300 pounds and looked like a baboons nutsack, so the possibility of someone fucking him seemed slim to say the least. Anyway, I made the mistake of getting intimate with a woman who would come see my band play and was one of our biggest supporters. Her and I would always talk after the show on everything from world politics to the cluster fuck that is the Bush administration, I felt that I had met my intellectual equal. As I quickly found out she didn't want me for my mind. Karma is a motherfucker, because when I wanted to take her out she would say, in her sexy laid back voice, "Naw, lets just stay here and fuck!". Don't get me wrong, similar to sock puppets reenacting sex I have no problems with intercourse with no strings attached. But after a while, when I would be laying besides her talking about some topic I thought was important, she would interrupt me with "Yeah, Yeah, Hip Hop is deteriorating.. Come here, shut up and fuck me!!" I officially felt like a piece of meat, which I thought I was fine with, until I found words coming out of my mouth that I thought I would never utter: "I can't fuck with you any more, you treat me like an object and not a person!!" Jesus, I wish I could have that one back.

Video of the Day: Eric B and Rakim: "I Ain't no joke"

Let me apologize right now to the many Tupac fans who leave me nasty "Where is Tupac" messages on my Greatest MC of All Time post, eat a dick already, I'm sure there are a million other fucking blogs you can check out where they feel that Tupac is indeed the messiah, who can turn your tap water into an alcoholic beverage. Not here sugar-tits. That being said, Rakim is the best that ever held a microphone apparatus. Period. Have a great weekend kids!!!

Poll: Bush is the worst post-WWWII President.

I told you this motherfucker was a piss poor president, here is an article from United Press International

A Quinnipiac University poll finds that more than one-third of U.S. voters rank George W. Bush as the worst president since 1945.
Ronald Reagan had the highest percentage of voters ranking him as the best, with 28 percent, while Bill Clinton followed with 25 percent. Clinton was also a leading choice as worst president -- with 16 percent of those surveyed putting him at the bottom compared to 17 percent for Richard Nixon and 35 percent for Bush.
The war in Iraq was the main reason cited by voters who ranked Bush as the worst. By 56 percent to 39 percent, they said the war was the wrong thing to do, Editor & Publisher reported.
Democrats and younger people tended to name Clinton as the best recent president, while older Democrats harked back to Harry Truman and John F. Kennedy. Republicans went for Reagan.

Video Request: Denis Leary: "Asshole"

Ever since I had had this blog and opened people up to embracing their inner asshole, I have received over 50 emails telling me that the Denis Leary song "Asshole" is playing in their head as they read my daily nonsense. Being the lazy good-for-nothing that I am, I never bothered to check out Mr. Leary's vocal stylings until now. So, this is for all those people who emailed me and hipped me to this song. Enjoy, and keep being the best Asshole all of you can be..

Cutting my Dreadlocs: The Pros and Cons

I know the title is misleading, probably causing many of you to think that I have either cut my tangled mane or I'm on the fast track to doing so, that's not actually the case. See each year, as my hair gets longer and I have to adjust more of it so I can wipe my ass without any "follicle interruptions", I go through a phase where I tell myself that I'm going to cut my hair. Each year I go through the same thing, like I'm stuck in a ghetto version of "Groundhog Day" or some shit, stressing myself out at the specif task at hand so much that I make a "Pros" and "Cons" list just so I can understand the reality of chopping off a piece of me that has been around for the past 12 years. So, kind people who read my brand of bullshit on a daily basis, here is a look at a list that I pretty much make ever year, welcome to the neurosis of Humanity F. Critic.

PROS.

No more flipping my hair like a girl: Even though I do "man things" like frequenting strip clubs, taking shots of liquor out of the navel of intoxicated women pre-coitus, and playing a weekly game of football with the fellas where I usually average a fight a week, there are a few things that threaten my hetero street cred. Besides me being a Independent movie lover, and a fan of "One Life to Live" to the point that a couple of days ago I screamed out like a 10 year old girl "They Can't Kill Todd!!", there is one thing that sticks out most of all. That thing, Ladies and Gents, is the way I rotate my neck and flip my hair out of my face like I was Farrah fucking Facet on an episode of "Charlies Angels". I don't even realize that I'm doing it until I see the "that was so gay" look on the faces of my friends, and the "I'm certainly not fucking you now" face that women who I was trying to know "biblically" flash me. Cutting my hair would definitely solve this problem, because if it didin't then I have more fucking problems than I thought I had.

It opens up fight possibilities: Listen, I know that I am 32 year old and the only things I need to be fighting is High Blood pressure and my deviant pornography addiction, but cutting my hair does open up a whole new world in the art of old fashion fisticuffs. Let me explain: Even though I have been in more scuffles than I care to mention, and have had no problem dispatching some ass-hat even with my hair blowing in the wind, there has been a few times I have had second thoughts about getting into it with someone because of the fear of having my hair pulled if the guy in question subscribes to the fighting tactic of 14 year old girls. Because of my fear of having my hair pulled, I have had to result in the quickest and most efficient forms of punishment, that is where the throat-chop came from. If not the throat-chop, I would break a bottle of beer over someones head to lessen the chance of having my mane yanked out of it's socket. If I cut my hair I'm not saying I'm going to fight, but the fucking possibilities are endless.

People will stop asking me for weed: I like weed like the next guy, smoked some out of a Mcguyver-like Pepsi-can once that a friend turned into a make-shift bong, got so high with a high school classmate and her mother once that the mom let me feel her tits for the sake of "believability" because of a recent boob job she had gotten, when it comes to the topic of Cannabis I usually have no proboem whatsoever. OK, that's a lie, when people assume that I have weed on me because the texture of my hair, that can be infuriating to say the least. The fucked up part is that even after I nicely say "No, I don't have any weed.", they think that I'm lying and for the next few minutes they assure me that they are "not cops" and how much do I charge for an "ounce". Trust me, if I had a dollar for everytime someone thought I was the local weed supplier, well, I guess I would just spend that money on weed and whores I guess.


No more silly fucking questions or statements: Some people, bless their little hearts, just don't know anything about dreadlocks, so if I am in a decent enough mood I will answer their questions, no problems. But after eleven years of answering the same questions year end and year out, I understand how an actor feels who is promoting a movie and is forced to go to one of those movie junkets where they go through like 100 interviews a day. Common questions include, "How long have you been growing your hair?" and "How often do you get it done?", not the worst questions in the world. Silly statements include, "Your hair smells nice, wow!" and "Your hair looks good to be dreadlocks!!", which I usually accompany with a frustrated sigh or a quick retort explaining their ignorance. Then you have the utter bullshit questions like, "Is that a weave??", "Do you wash your hair?", or "Can I have a lock of your hair?", what the fuck?

No more sitting under a dryer: Ladies, I feel your pain. OK, I can't give birth, I don't have a monthly cycle, and never had to be penetrated anally by guys like me as I inappropriately scream out my prison number while I ejaculate. But, by me having this chick that I know twist my locks once a month, I know how it feels to sit under a fucking dryer for far too long. That thing is horrible, sweating my balls off as I try to read issues of "O" Magazine, trying not to think about the pounds that are falling off my body because of the massive heat scorching my scalp. Right when I think that my hair is dry enough, after being under that hair care product of death to the point that the fluid surrounding my brain is boiling, she comes by and when I think she is going to release me from this indoor version of hell she says, "You need to be under there for another half hour!!" Fuck!! I can't tell you how many times I have walked out of there with a damp head, like a pouting 5 year old saying, "Fuck that, I'll take my chances."

CONS:

Positive Attention: Despite all the negative attention that I received, having my hair pulled and the arsenal of silly as fuck questions that are thrown my way, there is positive attention that I would miss if I were to cut my hair. For example, and ladies I'm sorry because I'm going to sound like a pig, but do you know the amounts of miscellaneous ass I've received based on a woman coming up to me and saying, "Oh, I really love your hair!!" Especially coffee-shop chicks, who's favorite pastime includes watching "Love Jones" on a eternal loop, burning incense, and living their life like it is a full time India. Arie music video, when they talk about wanting to wash my hair and play in my dreadlocks I know that I have found another future victim of the Humanity F Critic "pre-ejaculate and say it's her fault" mannuever. But yeah, I feel I'm an average looking guy, but my hair has sparked the interest of older possible sugar mama's, younger "I'll forgive you for not knowing who Afrika Bambaataa is as long as I can drunkenly penetrate you a few more times" women, and bitter ass broads my age of the "yeah, you confirmed that men ain't shit so now I'm going to be a lesbian" variety.

The weed possibilities: Even though I waxed poetic about how it was unfortunate, due to the style of my hair, that people assumed me for a Cannabis salesman. That being said, because of my hair I am alerted of every dealer within a 10 miles radius of my residence. In bars, having conversations with strangers, people will try to bond with me in a "you have dreadlocks so you must smoke weed, here is the number to my dealer" kind of way. It's definitely a perk, but I always think that if I was a Narc I would be like cop of the year and shit, based on how many drug busts a motherfucker could make.

Yes, I know the Pros outweigh the Cons, but I'm still not going to cut my hair. Why you ask? Because I'm a whore for compliments and discount marijuana, that's why. Duh!!

The Dixie Chicks: "Taking the Long Way" review

Listen, if you grew up like I did, the son of a man who grew up in the deep south and recounted the most horrific episodes of racism imaginable that would make "Mississippi Burning" resemble a county fair, reviewing a group with the word "Dixie" in it should be the last thing on my agenda. Not only that but I'm what I consider a 89er, no that's not a sexual position, it is a term I coined for anyone who prefers the hip Hop in and around the year 1989, so suffice it to say I'm not the biggest country music fan in the world. It's not that I dislike country music, I find most of the "white man's blues" variety quite good, but based on the arrival of an untalented fuck named "Cowboy Troy", me being forced to listen to a bowel movement in country music form named "Big and Rich" during an NBA All-Star game a couple of years back, and the ignorantly jingoistic stylings of Mr. "I'll put a boot in your ass, who cares about the Iraqi women and children" Toby Keith, like an old woman who sees me and thinks that all black men are criminals, I've made it my business to be on the opposite side of the road when Country music comes my way.

But that being said, I knew that I would give these three ladies from Texas a fair review because I am, truly, a lifelong Hip Hop fan. Let me explain: Based on the countless lazy criticisms of Hip Hop over the years, the passive aggressive racism that is disguised as objectivity by detractors of Hip Hop, and the "downfall of black culture" that uncle tom black conservatives like to lay at the feet of the genre that I love, Hip Hop has taught me to judge genres of music fairly with a open mind. That being said, I took the CD I borrowed from my neighbor, popped it in my computer, and decided to free my mind without horticulture aids or any other mind altering hallucinogenics.

When I looked over the CD cover for a few moments I not only noticed that Linda Perry and Cheryl Crow wrote a few songs on the CD, Chad Smith of the Red Hot Chili Peppers did some drumming, but the man that I consider to be the "White Yoda", the man that co-founded Def Jam and and stopped my nonsensical hating on Jay-Z, Rick Rubin himself was producing this album. My interest was now at an all time high, a dude who has waived his magic wand and produced the likes of Johnny Cash, the Red Hot Chili Peppers, Neil Diamond, the Beastie Boys, System of a Down, and LL Cool J, was behind this record so I was definitely interested in what I was about to hear.

To be honest, after giving the album a few good listens, I was pleasantly surprised on how good it was considering that Country music is the furthest thing from my musical sensibilities. Besides a well produced album that flows effortlessly, I was also delighted with the way they address several topics on their newest release. The song "Bitter End" is sort of an ode to lost friends, the song "Silent House" is a free flowing track about the effects of alzheimer's on a loved one, "Lullaby" is a touching tune addressing the love they have for their children, "Voice Inside my head" is a haunting, insightful melody about guilt and regret concerning a abortion, but two tracks really stick out in my mind. One of those tracks is "Lubbock or Leave it" which is a country dish served with a side order of blues, truly the song that turned me from the "objective Hip Hop guy" to a person that couldn't stop nodding my head. The other song, truly a middle finger to country radio, and those inbred motherfuckers who stopped being fans of theirs because they never had a father figure and still support this incompetent president, is called "Not ready to make Nice yet", with telling lyrics referencing some of the shit they had to go through after "the comment:" And how in the world/ Can the words that I said/ Send somebody so over the edge/ That they'd write me a letter/ Saying that I better shut up and sing/ Or my life will be over".

When people hate on Kanye West ad nauseum, I understand because the guy is a fucking tool, but I don't partake in spewing my venom his direction simply because there are bigger fish to fry concerning artists who are ruining Hip Hop. As much as I hate Bush, feel that he is a functioning illiterate, and feel that any one who still supports him has serious mental issues that need to be addressed immediately, I can't give Kanye props for his live rant against the president damn near a year ago. Not because I feel that it wasn't "the right place or time", that's bullshit, but it wasn't particularly brave and he stated something that every black person who doesn't put on black-face and calls themselves a conservative already knows. The Dixie Chicks on the other hand, even though they were abroad, criticised the president even though their fan base at the time probably masturbated to FOX news, had a "I'll put a boot in your ass" doormat, and probably still listened to the presidents speeches via radio, huddled around it like it was 1955 or some shit. What they did took balls, and with this album they did the right thing by not pandering to country radio and coming with a album that is more rock and blues influenced, and they are lyrically unapologetic when it comes to the statements that they made about a man who will probably be remembered as the worst president ever. When asked about not being played on Country radio, Natalie Maines said "I don't even know what's played on country radio, but when they tell me some titles, it cracks me up." She continued, "Besides, where would we fit on the play-list between `Honky Tonk Badonkadonk' and `Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off,' as the rest of the Chicks -- sisters Martie Maguire and Emily Robison -- join in her laughter. Maybe being shunned from the country music is a good thing content wise, as I feel that this is a good album, and that's saying a lot coming from someone who prays to the alter of Hip Hop and the only Country music experience that I had was getting a lap-dance to the Billy Ray Cyrus song "Akey Breaky Heart" once. Oh yeah, Fuck George W. Bush.

Video of the Day: Hans Soul: "Imagination"

Ladies and Gentlemen, similar to being backed up from eating cheese all day I'm not shitting you, this video here is my version of evidence that their was indeed a shooter in the grassy knoll or Jimmy Hoffa's body, let me explain. This song has been on my mind since the early nineties when it came out, not because it is the best song in the world or anything, but because whenever I would mention this song to fellow Hip Hop aficionado's over the past decade and change, they would look at me like I just defecated a puppy or some shit. It got to the point, and I'm being serious, that I began to think this song was a fucking figment of my imagination based on the respectable Hip Hop minds that claimed that they never heard of Hans Soul. But thanks to Youtube, it just proves that a decrepit old 32 year old chronic masturbator isn't losing his mind after all. The song, a concept that wouldn't fly today, is about a love that isn't based on materialism. Ahh, those were the days, imagine a person telling a woman "I'm a poor man" like Hans Soul does in that song and still expecting her to drop her Lane Bryant's.. Who remembers's this one??

*Sidenote* Charles Barkley is dancing somewhere in this video.

Artist of the week that a old head told me to check out: Bill Withers

This weeks edition of "Artist of the week that a old head told me to check out", I'm sorry to say, is a rather disappointing one. I informed my alcoholic jazz legend friend that I had a decent amount of knowledge when it comes to music so when I ask him for an obscure group or act, I fucking mean obscure. So because I had this silly rule that I would profile the first person that he brought up, regardless if I was familiar with their work or not, today's artist is Bill Withers.. a dude I'm familiar with. As I handed saxophone Willy his bottle of booze as payment he could see my disgusted look, but he went on to put me through a half hour rant on Bill Withers that I already knew. Because I respect my elders I thanked Willy for his time, but was forced to say as I left "Obscure.. Oooob-Scuuuure!!"

Bill Withers is a great soul force that recorded from the 60's to the 80's, with memorable tunes that you and your mother bob your collective heads to. Born is West Virginia, he joined the Navy at seventeen and stayed in for 9 years before moving to L.A in 1967. He has blessed the world with classics like "Ain't no Sunshine"(a song I played continuously when I was kicked out an apartment I shared with my then girlfriend because she wanted to be with a bum instead of me. But come to think of it, I was the one that was forced to leave, so it was more like "Ain't no sunshine when I'M gone.), "Lean on Me", "Use Me", "Lovely Day", and "Just the Two of Us". His songs have been covered by the likes of Club Nouveau, British glam rock band Mud, Grace Jones, Fiona Apple, Me'Shell NdegeOcello, and Anthony Hamilton. If you don't know about this guy already you should learn, or sit in front of a gun shop and ponder your existence for a while. You can check out the classic Bill Withers song "Ain't No Sunshine"(You know, the one I mentioned earlier, the song I was playing when I was feeling sorry for myself that on my girlfriend left me for a fucking peasant? Yeah, that one) on my myspace page.