"There's no Crying in the Blogisphere!!!"

I always knew that my 25 year career of sporadic violence would come back and karma-cally bite me in the ass at the end, but I didn't know in what way exactly. I remember chasing a dude named Derek three blocks with a hammer in my hand, with nothing but bad intentions flowing through my veins, I knew at the time that I would regret the violent act I was about to be a part of. When I got in a public dispute with some random woman at a club some years back, I knew that I would pay for knocking her man out, even though his only crime was being yanked on the arm by his girlfriend after she said "I bet you won't say that shit to my man!" While I was standing over a bouncer in a piss infested bathroom who I had just viciously chopped in the throat, only because he gave me some shit about wearing a "skull cap" a few days earlier at his place of employment, I knew that god would one day deal with me accordingly.

The days of me trying to act like a black version of Joe Pesci's character in "Goodfellas" long gone, despite a few scuffles here and there, I have done pretty well, I think, on my road to recovery.(Even though, I just found out how to track people back from their IP addresses who talk shit, thanks to a computer savvy friend that I have. Just imagine, me showing up on someones doorstep with a bat in my hand, with a menacing look, saying "What was that shit you said on my blog again motherfucker??" *Shaking head* Ooops, sorry, this is about recovery.) But since those days I have been waiting to see how I would be punished, it wasn't my ex leaving me because I was emotionally unavailable to her, so we're even in my opinion. No illnesses to think of, no recent ass whippings, I haven't been depressed in years, I was staring to think that god gave Humanity F. Critic a pass on my violent outbursts.

But the man above having a sense of humor, over the past few months, hit me with the biggest punishment a wanna-be macho asshole like myself could stand. So big in fact, it took me a few weeks to even start writing this post and openly admit to something so embarrassing. Here goes: Over the past few months, for some reason or another, I have started crying at the most inopportune moments. It's pathetic, I can't even use it as a ploy to get miscellaneous pieces of ass because I am the ugliest cry-er in the world. So ugly that a makeup-less Mary J. Blige would even say that I'm an ugly cry-er, that's bad.

Cooley High: I love this movie, and must have seen it about 100 times so far. Even though I have heard a hand full of black folks diss it over the past few years as being "blaxploitation", I think it is a great coming age film, a true teen flick a decade before John Hughes Directed "16 Candles"(Interesting Tidbit: The star of this movie, Glenn Turman, was originally cast in the role of Han Solo but George Lucas later changed his mind and decided to cast Harrison Ford.) Anyway, they were having a black film fest in my city a few months back and I decided to see it solely because they were showing "Coley High". I just thought it would be cool seeing one of my favorite movies on a full movie screen, plus, seeing 6 foot Afro's is never a bad thing in my honest opinion. So I go to the theater with a couple of my boys, Frank, who is a 14 year veteran of the marines, and Johnny, a pediatrician who wouldn't have any clients if those parents knew all the shit we got into growing up. We all sat down and I'm armed with quite the arsenal of popcorn, drink, a small bottle of Jack Daniels to put in said drink, I was set. The movie was great, even though I had seen it about 100 times before, then it happened! Something that I didn't expect, especially from a person who could recite the script verbatim as if I had written it myself, but I felt a huge lump in my throat when Cochise died. I tried to suppress it, breathing deeply, shaking my head vigorously, but nothing happened. Tears flowed down my face, I sat there motionless, hoping that my uber macho posse wouldn't notice. I thought it worked, until Frank loudly asked, "Are you crying motherfucker??" Then went on to alarm the rest of the crowd, like they were all high school friends of our and shit, "Hey y'all, do any of you have a tissue for HumanityCritic, my little sister?" For someone with a pretty quick wit, I pretty much took their shit because I was as shocked as anyone. Shit, when we all went out to eat later and they pointed me in the direction of a Bridal dress store I still lacked a significant retort.

"The Office": Even though I respect the American incarnation of "The Office", Steve Carrell is brilliant, just see his performance in the "40 Year old Virgin" to be a witness to his genius. But nothing beats, in my opinion, the original version starring Ricky Gervais, who plays the role of "clueless boss" with utter perfection. The way his employees loathe him, the pregnant pauses after his unfunny jokes, the delusional thoughts that he has that he is well respected, all that is what makes this show a gem in my opinion. I bet you are asking yourself, "why in the world would HC cry over this show?" Good question, let me explain. A running theme throughout this show is the attraction between two characters named Tim and Dawn. Even though Tim knows that his love for Dawn will never be realized because Dawn is marrying a douche-bag named Lee, he foolishly declares his love for her right before she goes off with Lee to America. She turns him down flat(remember, this show is supposed to be a faux documentary, so Tim is embarrassed on television) Fast forward the following Christmas, when Dawn is invited back to England to attend a Christmas party her old job is having.(Fuck!! This has become a soap opera) To make a long story short, on her way back home from the party, in the cab realizing how much Tim loved her and supported her and how her current boyfriend didn't, she returns to the party and gives Tim a loving kiss and embrace. As I saw that, sitting beside a chick who I had planned on seeing parts of her only her OB/GYN and maybe a million other guys have seen, I didn't realize that tears were strolling down my face. I screamed, "What in the fuck is happening??!!", in which she honestly answered, "Aww that's cute, it really is. I'm just not fucking you now, Pussy!!"

Hurricane Katrina: When it comes to someone passing, I have a weird and unexpected way of mourning. When my old man died I pretty much cried immediately, balling my eyes out to A Tribe Called Quest's "Scenario" remix outside of the hospital he was being treated at. When Buddy died, I didn't find myself crying until about a month later, in the shower getting ready for a date. Even though those were people that I loved and cared about that actually passed, I never thought that I would release the same fluids from my tear ducts concerning Hurricane Katrina.

After watching my helpless brothers and sister suffer in what is supposed to be the richest nation in the world, seeing Bush "Barney Fife" his way through another crisis, and seeing images of bodies floating in the diseased infested waters of New Orleans definitely outraged me to no end. I did what I could in the days surrounding Katrina, gave what I could like most of you did. But it didn't really hit me until we had band practice over Mitch's house(our drummer) one humid night. As the rest of the guys were in the other room chatting, throwing back a few beers, I am in our practice room watching the coverage and talking to Mitch's 13 year old daughter, Michelle, at the same time. My eyes glued on the screen, not believing how my people were being treated in this country, then all of a sudden she starts playing the piano and singing a song. Innocent enough, until I started hearing the words of the song, it was Stevie Wonder's "Misrepresented People". She began to sing the following:

In 1492 you came upon these shores.
Seven hundred years, educated by the moors;
17th Century-- genocide and the gun
Middle Passage blessed to market the Africans.

In the so-called “Land of God”
My kind were treated hard.
From back then until now
I see, and you agree--
We have been a misrepresented people.

From back then until now
Just see my family tree;
We have been a misrepresented people.
We have been a misrepresented people.

With those harmonious yet haunting words coming from this childs mouth, on top of the sight of the people of New Orleans fighting for their lives, begging, pleading, I put my head in my hands and began to weep uncontrollably. Michelle put her arm around me and said, "It will be alright HumanityCritic", to where I responded "It's not that.." She said, "What do you mean?", in which I replied, "Do you know how hard it's going to be for me to get any random "internet patch" after women read this??" Hey, I never said that I was a fucking role model.