I offer these 3 artists a sincere "mea culpa"..

Mea Culpa:(MAY-uh KUL-puh, KOOL-puh) An expression from Catholic ritual that assigns blame to oneself: “I gave you the wrong directions to my house—mea culpa.” From Latin, meaning “my fault” or “my blame.”


I know that I can be brutal when it comes to what I consider to be legitimate and what I consider to be a steaming pile of artistic crap, I'm aware of that. Some people would consider what I do as "hating", which I reject flatly, I recognize that the same people who feel I'm a "hater" are probably just offended by me saying that "Cam'ron is so wack that he probably sold his soul to the devil" and how "I'd rather hear a great Dane get neutered than be forced to sit through a P Diddy listening party". There are certain things that I'm sure of, I'm going to die one day, my favorite pastime is eating mac and cheese off a woman's butt-cheeks, Rakim is the best rapper ever, and that I'm always right motherfucker!! Ok let me come clean, there have been a few occasions where I have been wrong, not based on my god given instincts, but based on my desire to blaze my own path. Let me explain:

This is going to sound retarded, but I have openly rejected musical artists not based on whether their material was good or not, but because of what I considered to be "too many people liking them". I know, it's stupid, but I was so into not being what everyone else was "into", I didn't give certain artists a proper chance. So what happened was I denied myself the opportunity to really digest some dope music just because I didn't want to seem like I was on the back of some proverbial bandwagon. Believe it or not, here are some of the artists that deserve a "my bad" based on my my silliness.(Ok, I guess I should have said "Mea Culpa".)

The Beastie Boys: When the Beasties came out I remember being in Junior High, and being utterly disgusted by some of my white classmates that openly rejected Hip Hop before now suddenly being the biggest fans of the genre based on the verbal stylings of three cats from New York City. Looking back I was the worst militant ever, a black skateboarder raised in a city that is 71.4% white, but I was militant nonetheless. As time went on, if I had remembered the reason that I had rejected the Beastie Boys in the first place, I would have realized how silly my grudge against them was and bumped their shit like a herpes outbreak. But like most silly beefs, I had forgotten why I hated them, but that didn't stop me from making sure that MCA, AdRock, and Mike D didn't see a dime of my money.

But as time went on I saw the error in my ways, not because of some sort of "moment of clarity", but because a chick I was dating said that she wouldn't fuck me until I gave their entire music catalog an unbiased listen. As I listened I realized of how I had kept myself from some good music, an all around dope Hip Hop group, all because I had a teenage grudge on these three fellows from the Big Apple. Plus, based on the current musical landscape of sub-par wordsmiths and tone deaf beat-makers, I appreciate The Beastie Boys even more. So yeah, mea culpa like a motherfucker.

Wu-Tang Clan: My relationship with Wu Tang is like a dude who has a dope wife at home, but still proceeds to ignore the fuck out of her and fuck less desirable chicks. When Wu first came out all of my friends acted like they invented a fucking Aids vaccine or some shit, it was hysteria that was unparalled to say the least. Because of said hysteria, it was my main agenda to hate on the crew from Staten Island like nobody's business. But it was weird though, because deep in the recesses of my mind I knew that I liked some of their songs, my stupid desire not to be a follower didn't allow me to enjoy their music with everyone else. If I'm in a club nowadays and I am nodding my head to some classic Wu Tang song I keep expecting someone to come out of thin air like a Hip Hop Bagger Vance and call me on my hypocrisy. Again, mea culpa.

Jay-Z: Besides my silly hesitation to seem like I was following in anyones footsteps, I think I resisted jay-Z based on all the people that claimed he was a better MC as Rakim. That's Hip Hop blasphemy in my opinion, so I gave Jay-Z the short end of the stick like women married to midgets, when it came to his music. But as years have passed and I can be more objective, I can admit that Jay-Z is a talented MC that I should have given a chance. Granted, I'm still not a fan of some of his more commercial songs, or the fact that he openly admitted to dumbing down his lyrics, but those are semantical arguments based on me coming to terms with the fact that the guy is a much better MC than I gave hin credit for. Yeah Hova, me cupla.

Two cases where the movie commentary is recommended..

If it hasn't been obvious from the way I openly declare my love for Janeane Garofalo on a regular basis, my penchant for kick flip ollie to smith grinds, my feeling that "Clerks" should be part of every college curriculum, and my owning of Hall and Oates' entire musical library, it's easy to come to the conclusion that I'm a bona fide geek. But most of all, above anything else, I am a uber nerd when it comes to my movie rental habits. We won't even get into the plethora of independent and foreign films that I digest on a monthly basis, but I love listening to a part of the DVD that most people loathe, the commentary from the director and the cast. I know that most of the commentaries are bland and as boring and depressing as a Mary J Blige interview, but there are a few out there that are worth listening to. Here are a few that I highly recommend.

Kevin Smith's commentary on "Jersey Girl": After "Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back" Kevin Smith wanted to grow as a filmmaker, so he wrote and directed the movie "Jersey Girl" about a father raising his daughter after the sudden death of his wife. Listen, even though I'm a big fan of some of Smith's more vulgar writings, I don't think that his attempt at being a grown up was that bad at all. The movie just seems like a train wreck based on the relationship between Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez, and there was no way Smith could have foreseen the theatrical cluster-fuck that was "Gigli". Suffice it to say Smith's loyal fan-base, armchair quarterbacks of the movie critic variety, and every respectable critic this side of the equator ripped Kevin Smith a new one when it came to this vehicle starring Alleck, some fairly and most unfairly. That being said the commentary of said flick is classic, where you have Smith accompanied with Affleck, defending the flick to the death the same way you would defend your mother, or your child in their time of need. Kevin Smith called out critics by name, quoted them with pin point accuracy, and proceeded to talk shit about them to the point that it provokes outright laughter from anyone who hears it. He disses Richard Roeper, calls a group of British tabloid chicks named "The 3AM Girls" a bunch of "Coked-out whores" because of their unkind words for him, and a bunch of other shit to keep you laughing.

Spike Lee commentary on "Bamboozled": I love Spike, dude is an absolute genius, and said genius is exposed on the commentary track of "Bamboozled". You'd think that he wouldn't have much to add to a movie that is already a scathing attack on the state of black entertainment, the basic minstrel show that people have allowed themselves to be reduced to. But then again we are talking about Spike Lee, and on this commentary he isn't shy about putting his proverbial foot in the ass of Tommy Hillfiger, movies that wreak of chicken grease and horrible writing, the networks that promote the dumbing down of black culture, and the slew of rappers that are already doing a "soft shoe" routine to earn some of massa's money. Spike's commentary echoes the same anger those of us have when we see Jim Jones being interviewed, the platinum encrusted smiles from young men that offends the sensibilities of the forefathers of Hip Hop, and the level of lyricism that makes the elementary rhyme style of Dr. Seuss seem like a fucking Hip Hop quotable.

Video of the Day: Pete Rock & CL Smooth: "It's Not a Game"

Vin Diesel break dancing

A few commercials that I loathe..

When asked, my closest friends will tell you nice things about me like how I make them laugh, my loyalty, and that I'm probably the only dude they know who will fuck anything with a pulse and a vagina.(pulse optional) After they get finished with the niceties, I'm sure that they will tell you that one of my biggest flaws is how quick something can irritate the piss out of me. I mean, I dumped girls for the unforgivable transgression of constantly chewing with her mouth open, saying that she was a P. Diddy fan once to often, always wanting to cuddle, coming by unexpected, and not wanting to fuck me when she had a dangerously high fever.(What can I say, some shit just bugs me) But as of late I'm trying to be more patient, more compassionate, to the point that I'd be willing to throw an arm around a chick after sex, restrain myself from giving her the finger after she tells me shes a Lil Wayne fan, I now realize that a woman with a 103 degree fever might not want a dick in her. Yes, I'm a work in process..

But one area that I don't mind expressing my irritation is when it comes to some of the commercials that are on T.V nowadays. I know that they only last about 40 seconds and shouldn't have so much thought put into them, but then again I'm the guy who inspects his genitalia with a magnifying glass days after getting new booty, so I guess you might want to consider the source. Anyway, here are a few television commercials that I completely loathe, if you are with me please let me know so I could feel less of a waste of sperm.

The army commercial: I'm sure you have seen that Army recruitment commercial, you know the one where you see the young man or woman in the first days of their new job, their new boss asking them, "Are you sure you can handle this??" Then the young man or woman in question has a flashback of all the difficult and treacherous tasks they had to do while they were in service, tasks that completely outweigh anything their new boss will have them to do, then they say something like "yeah, I think I can handle it!!" Listen, I have love and respect for everyone who ever served this country honorably, hell my father served 30 years in the Navy, I just feel that Military Recruitment commercials are both cheesy and ineffective. Check this out, I have an idea based on those commercials that I'm going to make into a Youtube video soon. Here is the premise:

A young man is in the office of Larry Flynt, porn king extraordinaire, trying to be one of Hustler Magazine's many photographers. Larry Flynt says, "Son, this job requires you to have a good eye, for you to coordinate the models, and a shitload of other responsibilities. Do you have what it takes??" Suddenly the soldier has a flashback of his time at Abu Graibe, organizing the naked prisoners, putting them in compromising positions so he can capture the ultimate picture, then he says "Yeah, I think I can handle it."

The A1 Steak Sauce Commercial: Have any of you seen the A1 commercial that opens up with a woman telling a man you think is her husband, "Stop eating, you really need to listen to me" as the dude looks around while devouring a steak. Then suddenly he gets up and leaves the table, only moments before the woman's actual husband sits down and asks "What happened to my steak??!!" This commercial irks me, but mainly because I would hope that my wife would have given the man in question some strategically placed uppercuts and kicks to the groin until I got there. Matter of fact, this commercial irritates me so much that sometimes you catch me, while I'm on dates I may add, hiding in the midst just waiting for some random dude to start tearing into my steak so I can beat seven shades of shit out of that motherfucker.

The Anti-Drug commercial: How about this commercial, where this chubby black kid is driving his friends around because I guess he is the all time Designated Driver or some shit. While he is driving he goes into this lengthy spiel about how he has his boys back, a rant that creepily goes into him saying that he will "think for them" if they want, at least until college and then he says they are "on their own". I mean, the guy has such a laundry list of shit that he will do for his boys I kept expecting him to say, "On those lonely nights, I'll blow my boys if they want, let them give me a dirty Sanchez, let them hit this ass up like a pinata and then give them the courtesy "reach around, whatever I have to do to stop them taking drugs!!"

The Secret deodorant commercial: Just for the record, when I had live in ass and ran out of deodorant I used my woman's "Secret", I'm not ashamed to admit that. It worked well, except for the fact that I smelled like a flowery vagina all day and had the sudden urge to nit a sweater, besides that I highly recommend it. Anyway, have any of you seen the "Secret" commercial where one woman tells another woman, whether it be two sisters, friends, or a mother and daughter, about some secret that they have been hiding for a very long time. I know its only a commercial but there is no payoff because when the secret is revealed it's on some, "I like your brother" shit. We need to hear real secrets goddammit, like a friend telling another friend "One night I drunkenly blew your father, then played with his balls for a while as well." We need to hear a mother tell her daughter, "The man you thought was your father isn't your father. Hell, I don't know who your father is. It's either our old gardener Javier, one of my old bosses, or Young MC..I was a big fan" Or we need to here a daughter tell her mother, "When you were in a coma I fucked your boyfriend, in the hospital that you were at, to be more accurate in the bed beside yours."

The Last Date I went on: A Va Beach Tail..

I have came to the conclusion that being single might not be the worst thing in the world after all. I mean, even though the thought of me being a childless 60 year old man trolling local nightspots for women old enough to be my grandchild does seem like a sad fate to be totally honest, but the upside would be the kick that I would get screaming "These sheets are older than you girl!!" as I thrusted on top of my nightly conquest with the ferociousness of a caged animal.(albeit an elderly one). Sure not having a partner to share my life with would suck harder than a Jim Jones album, but just think of all the people at the STD clinic I'd befriend, you know, from the plethora of times I went in there with a "why is my dick the same colors as the African flag" questions after I was with a woman who I should have worn riot gear with. Plus, just think of all the things that I would avoid, sex talks with my demon seed, teaching the bastards how to drive, and worrying year on end about sending those miserable motherfuckers to some 4 year institution of learning. Yep, while other people worry about those things my only worries will be whether to spend the night with the girl who likes to sit on my lap and tell her a story before we fuck or the Latina chick that calls me "gramps" as she rides me, not to mention me figuring out which sweatsuit I plan on wearing each day. You know, as I type this I realize that being forever single would be a complete waste, akin to someone owning a library of Dipset material or all of Mo'Nique's theatrical releases. That being said, here is the last date that I went on.

Date 3: The Black Republican: When I met this chick in a bookstore a few weeks ago it was so cliche of an introduction that I thought that she might in fact be the future Mrs.HumanityCritic. There I was, sitting in the coffee shop part of Barnes and Noble, looking at a very reputable publication that showed captivating and thoughtful photographs of Alyssa Milano's crotch, pictures that had me wondering how many of her boyfriend's yell "Who's the Boss now bitch??!!" while making sweet love to her. Anyways, this chick just sits at her table and starts asking me questions like we had spoken before, "Hey, I haven't seen you in a while. What have you been up to, how's your family??" Even though it pained me to say what I was about to say, her beautiful caramel skin, stunning smile, her perfume that made my cock rise like it was a snake and she was the ultimate snake charmer, but I said "Hey Lady, I don't even fucking know you!!" She smiled and said, "I know, I just wanted an excuse to come over and speak to you", a phrase that had me both feeling good about myself and also feeling like I was her prey. We chatted a bit, discussed movies and a few items of the day, then we had planned a date a few days later. The next 48 hours were pure agony, not because I was nervous about my date or anything, but I fantasized in my mind how many deviant positions I would put this women in when I got the chance. Then panic set in, "What if I think about it so much that when it does happen I'm quicker than usual, as in "the length of the opening credits of the Cosby Show" quick??"

Stressing myself aside, I picked her up for my standard "lets grab a bite to eat before I fuck you and never call again" date and she looked absolutely stunning. I mean, it looked like she had beat Sho-nuff's ass and obtained a golden glow around her, not to mention that this chick's ass was as meaty as a Midget handshake. The first half of the date went well, we laughed, discussed music and by her tits being as perky as a character in an 80's teen flick and the way she randomly touched my hand during conversation, I just knew that she would soon sweep away remaining cobwebs off of my genitalia. Those hopeful thoughts of coidal bliss were thwarted when she said, "Oh yeah, did I tell you I was a republican!!" The record skipped akin to DMX mistakenly showing up to a Klan rally, like George Bush saying that he's a big DJ Premier fan, like Lil Kim busting a freestyle. But I was calm and tried to hear her out but as she talked, what felt like a solid piece of American manhood between my legs was reduced to somewhat of a wet noodle.

The problem really was she was one of these people that I detest politically, you know the black folks that claim that they were so disappointed by the democratic party that they went to the republican party. Which is their right, but the specifics in the logic always seems fucked up to me. That's like being in jail and trading in the cellmate who bugs you with his constant story telling for an inmate who's main agenda is raping you in the ass, without lubricant and a courtesy reach around. Anyway, the date ended pretty well, primarily because I quickly changed topics in hopes of me later fucking her while I whisper sweet nothing in her ear, like the deficit and how Bush lied us into this war. Well nothing happened but we do have a second date planned, but I don't see a future with someone who prays to the alter of Bush. I do see a "fucking" future though, but then again I'm a pig.

Video of the Day: Chubb Rock: "Ya Bad Chubbs"

Jesus Camp

This Jesus Camp is as disturbing as any triple penetration video you can show me, its even more troubling than seeing a woman on the business end of a Donkey show. Being raised catholic I have struggled with my faith for as long as I remember, from priests touching little boys or the idiocy of the catholic church claiming that John Kerry can't get into heaven because of his stance on abortion during the 2004 presidential campaign. But I do believe in god, not because of all my botched attempts to passive aggressively end my life, but because he came to me in the form of a white trailer park rapper by the name of Hutch.(I'll explain that one at a later date)

But the part where the kids are praying to a cardboard cut out of George W Bush, what the fuck is that exactly?? But then again it makes sense, just think about all the arguments you have had with loyal Bush supporters. As much as you pound them into the ground with facts, documentation, complete smoking gun evidence, they have a blind faith that just can't be rattled. It's kind of like someone debating the existence of god to me, I don't have any evidence that the man ever existed, just blind faith so to speak. So I understand Bush supporters now, I also understand someone who eats their own fecal matter as well, doesn't mean that I have to find it logical.

A Tale of 2 Titties..ahem.. Dates

It has been 5 years since my last long term relationship, the years following have been spent fucking B-teamers, late-night grind buddies, and women who know its time for them to leave my residence as soon as U.S Currency hits the night stand. But since I feel that I have exercised my demons like Mary J Blige does with each album release, I recently came to the conclusion that it's time for me to enter the dating game once again. I mean, I feel that I have matured to the point that I might care if my partner didn't climax, I might even call her the next day to let her know that I didn't view her as my personal fuck toy. I'm more patient, caring, considerate, and I have finally mastered the art of opening doors for broads. Lastly I have made peace with my ex, her and I are even friendly to the point that she is my myspace friend, so you can just imagine the utter joy that rushes over my body as I go to said page and see pictures of her and her husband in poses of wedded bliss.(God is a real funny dude)

So, based on my new found confidence after shedding a few pounds and being able to see my entire dick again, I was able to talk 2 women into letting me buy them food and be their chauffeur for a night, hopefully resulting in me washing my dick in their sink at some point. Unfortunately I wasn't able to become intimately acquainted with any of my dates "roast beef corridor" as my father used to say, not because the opportunity wasn't there, but because these chicks irritated the fuck out of me. Here's how it went.

Date 1: The Young Chick: The first date was this chick who is 10 years my junior, usually I would reject dating someone that young but she had wisdom beyond her years, had a very sharp wit, and her breasts looked like two midgets trying to escape from a penitentiary or some shit. I picked her up, we had some decent conversation in the car, then she asked me "HumanityCritic, what are your intentions?? Where do you want this to go?" I paused, thought about it a few seconds, turned to her and said "I'd like to buy you the most inexpensive meal possible, fill your healthy liver full of alcoholic beverages, and based on your age I can see me fucking you like a wild fucking animal under your Lil Bow Wow poster.." Even though she laughed hysterically and said "You ain't got no sense boy!", little did she know I was dead ass serious. As soon as we got to the restaurant her phone kept ringing, and ringing, and ringing. I could respect if she looked to see who it was, weighed the importance of said call in her head, then put her phone away respectfully. Not this chick, she answered every single call and most of the conversations were of the unimportant "hey girl... Yeah, I saw flavor of love.." variety. Seriously, after like 14 calls I was getting pissed, so when the 15th call came I assumed it was her homegirl again so I said, "What does that bitch want?? Doesn't she know that you're on a date?? Where is her class??" Unfortunately it was her mother, but that didn't end the date at all. When the date was winding down and I was trying to talk her Lane Bryant's off in her house, HER PHONE KEPT RINGING. I guess I could have fucked her on her Strawberry Shortcake sheets, using her Teddy Bears to place under her stomach for better traction, as I tap that bumper like a minor car accident, trying to not lose my erection by all the posters of usher on the wall. But a clearer image of the future dominated my mind, I suddenly pictured myself thrusting on her with all the might a black guy with an undersized penis could, her talking on the phone, unaffected by the ramming and the dreadlocks in her face. So yeah, lets just say that I left her residence with a serious case of "Smurf Nuts".

Date 2: The Crazy Chick: Maybe this is a guy thing, but when it comes to certain ex's you forget why you broke up with them in the first place. I guess it's all the years of bong hits that affected my memory, or the sperm back up that has me thinking with another "head", but I had truly forgotten why me and this chick named Rosa never worked out. She was smart, fun to be around, didn't have a gag reflex to speak of, and I distinctly remember her saying "If you make me climax I'll cook you some cheese eggs" mid-coitus, that's motivation like a motherfucker. So I decided to give Rosa a call and we went out recently, a night that I'm doing my best to forget. Immediately I recall how neurotic she is because she kept saying, "If we are going to do this we have to pretend this is brand new, you don't call me an ex and I won't call you an ex. Deal??" I shrugged and said, "Ok, what do you call me then, "The Artist Formerly Blown As??" When she didn't laugh I suddenly remembered that she wasn't fun to be around at all, the rest of the date would prove that to me. Besides her trying to order my food for me and evil eying every waitresses that she felt was flirting with me, she told me that she has joined this religious group(see cult) and that she wanted me to join. If any feeling of me still dating her remained, all of that was erased when she told me about her marriage plans for her and I and how she drives past my house at least 3 times a week. Despite all her craziness I still wanted to, and I quote the great poet Ice Cube, "knock those books from here to Albuquerque" and "wax that ass like rain dance" Let me tell you, nothing decreases the size of your penis like hearing a girl say, in the middle of making out no less, "I shouldn't be telling you this, but I feel like you are going to be the last guy I ever have sex with. I love you HC!!" I was out of there faster than Shaq at a spelling Bee.

*Stay Tuned next week with recaps of 2 more dates*

My friends life meant more than a short paragraph on page D3

The second week in October will mark the two year anniversary that my best friend Buddy was shot dead in a local nightclub. As I read the 40 word paragraph at the end of my local newspaper about the culprit pleading guilty to my friend's murder, an overwhelming sadness filled my body because his life meant more than that.

When most men who are insecure about whether they like vagina or penis would frown upon this, Buddy was the only guy that I know who would allow me to vent about the harlot of the day that broke my heart. It wasn't in his nature to be a black doctor Phil by any means, but the mere fact that he sat through my "Ok, her vagina suddenly has more room than a mansion and she calls me other names during sex. Does that mean she's cheating?" rants just showed me that he was the best friend a guy could have. His life meant more than the 2 for 1 shoe coupon that was above his article that I read on D3.

When most people would allow someone to waste their talents like DJ Premiere on a Group Home album, Buddy would always call me and ask "When is the last time you wrote a rhyme??" Even years after I had given up my dreams of standing behind a microphone, he would basically blackmail me into writing a decent 16. I still remember him saying, "HC, I'm throwing this party this weekend where there will be a slew of girls with loose morals. The only way you can come is to not only write a rhyme, but battle people every motherfucker there!!" Of course I would do it, because free booze and available vagina's are my kryptonite, but I appreciated his undying love for Hip Hop, and his confidence in my abilities. I'm saying, people wouldn't expect that based on his article that I read, the one right beside some bullshit ship getting decommissioned.

Buddy had a motto that I soon adopted when it came to getting involved in each others physical altercations: "Regardless of the circumstances, when I see you in a scuffle I'm landing some key shots in your honor. If you are in the wrong I'll tell you about yourself later, after we kick that guy's ass!!" Suffice it to say I was wrong a lot, and Buddy saved me from getting my ass handed to me on a few occasions. Those Bikers in North Carolina, those Frat guys in Norfolk, those muscle bound Transvestites in New York.(Don't ask) I really don't think folks will get how loyal he was based a 40 word article on the bottom of a newspaper page.

Hell, I'm no thug, and going to jail and getting my anal security breached keeps me up some nights. But right after he passed I went around town, asked questions, and made threats like I was Shaft's dread-locked illegitimate son to find my friends killer. Even though my arrest sheet is as bare as George W. Bush's military record, I hoped that I would find the bastard who killed Buddy, point a weapon at him, and say some corny catchphrase before I sent him to his maker, possibly going the cool route by quoting Kool G Rap on some "Your begging and your pleases only getting your closer to meeting jesus" shit. It never happened, apparently the guy high tailed it to New York immediately, but my loyalty for my friends surpassed any brief mention of my friend in a Virginia Beach publication.

Shit man, Buddy even came to me in my dream and simply said, "It's not your fault!", the motherfucker is even a pal beyond the grave. See, since the night he died I have had nothing but conflicting feelings to be totally honest. On one hand I wish I was there to protect my friend, maybe if I was in attendance I could have stopped that motherfucker from killing my friend. But on the flip-side I realize that that could have easily been me, and as much as I'm not trying to die yet, I just wouldn't want to do that to my mother. But Buddy reassured me, like always, a level of friendship that you might not understand by reading a snippet of a article in the back of a goddamn newspaper.

Rest in Peace Fletcher Parker III

My Hip Hop conspiracy theory bordering on science fiction..

When I first started listening to Hip Hop in the late 70's and early 80's in Naval Housing in Virginia Beach Virginia, my father didn't scoff at the new form of music like most parents did. My father and I never had the best relationship, but one thing that I love about the guy is how he would sit with me and listen to Kurtis Blow, Funky Four+1, and acts of the time with a very objective ear. Looking at the glazed look in his eyes it was like some sort of door that was unlocked to him for so many years was finally being opened. He wasn't a fan by any means, but some of the shit that he would say about the art-form that I Love is the reason that I hold this conspiracy theory that I'm about to share with you, his words will haunt me forever by the way. I mean, yeah my father was a shit talker and a story teller, but he once told me about being in a circle of guy's while they rapped in the 50's(cypher). He told me that some dudes approached him many decades ago about Hip Hop, and they kepts stressing to him the importance of "getting it right" and "taking it back to its roots". At the time, because my father usually talked out of his ass and was known to have "one too many", I quickly dismissed what he said as drunken nonsense. This one time when we were watching television together and a DJ was scratching records, he told me some story about those same dudes also scratching records on "turntables that lit up" as succinctly put it. Again, this is the same guy who minutes before told me that he had a scientific way of knowing if a kid was gay based on how he threw a football, so I disregarded what he said as rubbish even though I noticed his ultra serious tone.

Of course the stories about his experience with what would later be named "Hip Hop" kept coming, like him telling me that those dudes constantly had "rhyme offs" in front of him(battling), they would always be "spinning on their backs"(B-Boying), and he would go on and on about how they wanted him to tell as many people as he could about what they were doing and the importance of it. I really started to think that my father had a mental disorder for a while and I just hoped that shit wasn't hereditary. That was until he told me on his death bed that one of those dudes that he talked about visited him one night. He said, "HumanityCritic, that guy that was doing that rap shit 30 years before it became popular, he visited me last night. That brother hasn't aged a bit!"

Here's the science fiction part that might make many of you stop reading my blog immediately, but I have a theory, a theory that my mother begged me not to share because it might result in me being in a padded room. But fuck it, here goes. I think that somehow some disgruntled Hip Hop purists of the future got a hold of my rants about the deplorable state of Hip Hop and decided to go back in time on some reversal Terminator 2 shit. They saw me as some sort of savior of the genre for generations to come, but they also know that I'm a lazy bastard who needs the proper motivation, so their plan was to go back in time and influence me to somehow change Hip Hop. Problem was, since me and my father have the same first and last name, they somehow got the wrong "Humanity F Critic", so that explains all of those stories about rapping and DJing that my father claimed he witnessed in the 50's. I knoe, I know, wouldn't the time travellers immediately know that they went back too far?? Couldn't they tell the difference between the 1950's and 2006?? Good points, I haven't figured that part out just yet..

Quote of the Day..Al Franken

Al Franken a few days ago on "The Daily Show" talking about the guy who I want defeated in his bid for Senate Re-election of Virginia, George Allen:

"You don't want to go into the last month of a campaign where the only issue is not IF you are a racist but how big of a racist are you.."

Video of the Day: Boogie Down Productions: "My Philosophy"

This sounds bad, but I keep my friends segregated..

You would think that me of all people, the son of a man that constantly retold various accounts of seeing lifeless bodies swinging from trees and other forms of brutality in the name of racism in South Carolina during the 40's and 50's, you'd think that I'd be the last motherfucker on earth that would support segregation of any kind. I thought so too, I mean I'm a pretty progressive guy, what do I care if two guys want to check each others prostate with their cocks and then finalize it with a marriage? Since I have openly suggested that a few of my ex-girlfriend's get boob jobs and then got slapped for doing so, I now realize that I don't have any right to tell a woman what to do with her body. So yeah I'm your classic tree hugger in many respects, but when it comes to my friends I do believe in segregation. Like white people who want to get dreadlocks, please don't get it twisted, I don't separate my friends based on the color of their skin. I base it on the types of people that they are, and from experience and the few times that I have mixed them up and hearing open complaints that they were having a bad time, or fists fights that have broken out due to the complete lack of chemistry. Sure there are a few friends who can intermingle with any of the groups that I'm about to name, but for the most part I keep these groups of people separated like I'm Mills Lane and shit.

The Frat Boys: These are my drinking buddies, dudes who wouldn't find any moral objection to me punching a dude in the mouth for no apparent reason whatsoever, going home with a woman who's vagina was the inspiration for the movie "Outbreak", or finding the utter hilarity on me projectile vomiting on a woman who I'm giving my number to. I am a pretty sensitive guy who is myself around anyone, but going into a detail about the emotional roller-coaster of dealing with a break-up or the very personal feelings of wanting to be in love again will leave you with blank stares akin to asking Keisha Coles to find Australia on a globe. These are highly intelligent dudes so I'm not saying that their scope is limited, its just limited when we're going out on some "only talk about tits, fighting, the intricacies of giving a chick a facial, and drinking" shit. Yes, I'm part Frat Boy.

The Artsy Fartsy types: I'm a snob when it comes to what I like in music and film, so many people who I gravitate to either have the same level of snobbery that I do, or they have an agenda of hate that's unparalleled when it comes to people they think are sub-par in the area of rapping, acting, writing, or whatever. But beside the people like myself who openly think my tastes are better than yours, I also have a shitload of friends who either want the world to enjoy their hamfisted poetry or their cluster-fuck of verbal drivel.(like this blog) When I step outside of myself and hear the pretentious shit that we're talking about like what we think Langston Hughes was saying in a particular piece of writing, or the emotions that some jackass artist was trying to convey in one of his paintings, the Frat Boy in me shakes my head. Yes, I kind be Artsy-Fartsy.

The uber dorks: For those of you out there who have read my site for more than 5 minutes and not through some sloppy "look what this asshole said!" diss link, you know that my usage of the term "dork" isn't negative at all. It's true though, I have a slew of friends who can name the guy in charge of lights and the best boy of each one of the "Star Wars" flicks, can rattle off the specific comic book number of any story Superhero occurrence you question them about, and upon request they can speak fluent Klingon like they were a long lost relative of Spock himself. I guess the main reason that I don't mix this rag-tag bunch with any of my other friends is because I'd feel bad if they had to relive High School again based on the friends that I have who aren't as accepting as I am. Plus, if anyone gave them shit I would always be on their side to be totally honest. So yeah, I'm an uber dork.


Hip Hop heads aka Disgruntled Rappers: Maybe my distaste for the current state of Hip Hop has to do with me being a disgruntled rapper who's dreams of seeing my name in lights never came true, so to feel better and get a good nights sleep I bash wordsmiths of the day based on my bitter jealousy. Or it could be, I don't know, that a large portion of the individuals who call themselves MC's nowadays couldn't make a dope beat if you hit them with a bass drum full of coke, and couldn't construct a decent simile if they were on the business end of a Dennis Miller ass raping. Anyway, I not only hang with a group of people who feel the same way about modern day Hip Hop as I do, but our favorite pastimes when together include booing wack rappers, debating our top 10 rappers of all time, and freestyle batting any motherfucker with a functioning pair of testicles and a rhyme book. I keep these bastards away from my other friends because any topic outside of old school Hip Hop would be met with a "who gives a fuck?!!!" So yes, I'm a disgruntled rapper.

Young Padawans: At the advanced age of 33, I have find myself being friendly with people a lot younger than myself. No, I'm not a pedophile, I'm talking about dudes around 10-12 years my junior. I know they see me as a crotchety old man who makes them laugh, even calling me "The Hip Hop Uncle Rico" based on how I constantly talk about the golden age of Hip Hop, but I figure that I will be the source of anyone's entertainment as long as those similac fucks are buying the drinks. Besides me being a very easy alcoholic, it makes me feel good that I've influenced these men in their early 20's so their tastes in Hip Hop are a lot more respectable than douche-bags at least 10 years their senior.

Females from the planet of "plantonica": Like most men who have platonic female friends, 95% of them became my friends only because they knew better than to let me stick my "black myth ruiner" inside her naughty orifices. Its cool though, and based on our accidental friendship I never go over the line by making sexual overtures, or drunk calling them and begging them to reconsider our status of "friendships". I'm certain that many of my female friends would get along with almost all of my other friends to be totally honest, but I don't let them mingle because I have a strict "If I'm not fucking them, none of you are either" policy.

Olbermann's Special Comment on FOX News' Clinton Interview

I know in the past when I have said things like "That woman had the smelliest crotch this side of the equator!!", or when I told a young mother in the grocery store "Your kid's head is the biggest I've ever seen!!", I understand when people accuse me of hyperbole. But my idiocy aside, Keith Olbermann is by far the most informative and honest newsman on cable television. I know that is like praising a retarded kid because he doesn't double dribble during a pick-up game of basketball based on the sorry state of affairs T.V news is in nowadays, it's just good to not have to put that mental filter on when you watch a news show. Because his hero was the great Edward R. Murrow, at the end of each broadcast Olbermann says the parting words that Murrow made famous, "Good Night, and Good luck". I find his choice of words fitting, because even though I've been known for my brand of hyperbole, I do feel that Keith Olbermann is the Edward R. Murrow of our day to be quite honest. Even though there is no comparing the bravery that Edward R. Murrow showed as he was committed to telling the American people the truth despite the poisonous atmosphere surrounding Joseph McCarthy and those communist witch-hunts, I see a reminder of said bravery in Olbermann, a man unafraid to tell it like it is despite a news media that has been neutered during the entire Bush Administration.

A Public Service Announcement to Black folks concerning Condi Rice..

In response to the Fox interview Bill Clinton gave to Chris Wallace where he handed him his sub-par journalistic ass concerning his role fighting terrorism, Condi Rice decided to add her Aunt Tomasina 2 cents with: "What we did in the eight months was at least as aggressive as what the Clinton administration did in the preceding years," during a meeting with editors and reporters at the New York Post. Before I get into the sleazy nature of her retort, I started to think long and hard about my people, no not sexual deviants and proverbial pre-ejaculators the world over, but black folks. See, even though there have been plenty of people born with melanin who correctly assume that Ms. Rice is unfit for her job, I have heard loved ones, friends, acquaintances, even fellow bloggers suggest that we should give her some sort of pass because she is a "black woman in a high position". Listen, call me a sellout out if you like, I was even called that once when I asked if it was alright if I took a white date to a nation of Islam rally, but my support for my race stops at blistering incompetence. That line of thinking is akin to giving someone more respect just because they did a prison bid, that line of thinking is akin to somehow feeling that getting grades is uncool, that line of thinking is akin to saying someone is "trying to be white" just because they might fully pronounce their words. In no area of life would that logic be acceptable, would you give a black surgeon a pass because of the line of work he was in as he was about to operate on your mother, even though he had a track record of malpractice and lawsuits as long and depressing as a Mary J. Blige video? Of course you wouldn't.

As for Ms. Rice, when she claimed that no one could have predicted that anyone would use planes as a missile, we later learned that on 8/6/01 the president received a 2 page briefing about Bin Laden possibly using aircraft's to attack the United States. When she claimed that the "president launched an aggressive response after 9/11.", we later learned that after the Sept. 11, 2001 attacks, the Bush White House cut by nearly two-thirds an emergency request for counter-terrorism funds by the FBI, and that Ashcroft ranked counter-terrorism efforts as a lower priority than his predecessor did, and also he resisted FBI requests for more counter-terrorism funding before and immediately after the attacks. When she claimed that the outgoing Clinton administration didn't warn her about al Qaeda, we learned from the 9/11 commission that Richard Clarke forwarded his December 2000 strategy paper and a copy of his 1998 Delenda plan to the new national security adviser. So her suggesting that they did more in the 8 months preceding 9/11 about terrorism than Clinton did in his 8 years in office is as ridiculous as a current Secretary of State shopping for High priced shoes and watching "Spamalot" while an American City is virtually underwater.(ahem) Ms. Rice, to quote Chuck D, "Every brother ain't a brother cause of color!", and to give you some credit soley on the fact that we both are black americans is a dicredit to my race.

Video of the Day: Black Moon: "Who Got Da Props"

2006 DMC World Team Champions C2C

2003 DMC Performance
2004 DMC Performance
2005 DMC Performance

My "Fuck Blockbuster!! Hello Netflix" selection of the day: "Dinner for 5: Season 1"

Even though "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate factory" and "Hollywood Shuffle" are two of my most favorite movies, don't hold that against me, I feel that I'm a motherfucking film connoisseur. That's why, after what feels like a lifelong struggle with phantom late fees and a staff that knows about as much about film as a mute ,a few months ago I gave Blockbuster their walking papers and went with Netflix. The last thing I ordered was Season 1 of the Jon Favreau hosted show "Dinner for 5". Listen, even though my acting credits range from "Black guy #1" in my 4th grade play to stereotypical "Drug Dealer Charlie" in one High School production, I love to hear actors talk about their craft and inside information on the wonderful world of film.

The DVD wasn't that bad, you get to hear actors relay their personal experiences in some random L.A restaurant over Merlot and overpriced meals, that is something to be expected. I love Jon Favreau and I'm a fan of "Made" and especially "Swingers", but the way that he constantly segues every conversation to relate to one or both of those pictures is as irritating as getting a blow job from a hooker with Narcolepsy. If someone brings up an unruly extra Favreau chimes in with "This one time on "Made", budget concerns, script changes, stem cell research or motherfucking the slaughter in Darfur, you will occasionally hear "This one time on "Swingers" Jesus fucking Christ Jon, I get it, you were in "Made" and "Swingers"..

The Art of Getting Jumped.

"It only takes a second less you got on ice
Just for wearin your chain in they club, they'll beat you twice
Served with fried rice, you get a can of whoop ass
My only advice is don't fall and book ass"
-Trugoy(De La Soul)



When I first heard the song "The Art of Getting Jumped" on De La Soul's "Art Official Intelligence: Mosaic Thump" album, it reminded me of all the times I had been on the business end of a 5 man beating. But that was two full years before I even knew what a blog was, in 2000 I was just beginning to learn how to multi-task online, you know - beating off violently while skillfully using the mouse to click on deviant mpegs with the other hand. So now that I have my own personal soapbox to spew whatever drivel of the day that I feel is important, I want to address specifically what that De La Soul titles states, The Art of getting Jumped.

Maybe because I've always been a big fan of fair fights, or because I've seen innocent beatings quickly turn into attempted murder charges - I have never been part of a gang of guys on the sole mission of beating some hapless sap senseless. But because I have been known to randomly have sex with other peoples girlfriends and wives, broken the hearts of women with criminal siblings, and a plethora of other indefensible offenses that I'm sure you have read on this blog before - I could probably teach a college course on getting jumped. Listen, I'm not a trained professional so please take my pedestrian attempt at advice with a grain of salt, but these are just some tactics that worked when a handful of disgruntled gentlemen wanted my rectum to be intimately acquainted with their Pro-Keds. That being said, here are some helpful hints if you find yourself being jumped.

Aim for the biggest mouth: I've said this before, but its my experience that the average person out there really doesn't want to fight. Its kind of like the roadrage, people can flip you off all they want and honk their horn continuously - but see what happens when you actually pull beside their automobile looking rather disgruntled while holding a tire iron and you literally see the machismo ooze out of their body like the substance that came out of "Stretch Armstrong" when you overextended him.(Take my word for it) Usually in a pack of men that want to stomp you out like they are making wine or some shit, there is usually one guy that talks the most shit - kind of like a male cheerleader trying to get his brethren on the same "whipping your ass" agenda. My advice is, with all your might, is to hit that motherfucker first and as hard as humanly possible. Most of the time it leaves the other guys dumbstruck, you know, with their sole motivation laying on the ground missing some bicuspids and all. But even if it doesn't work and you get your ass kicked anyway, you will still feel better that you put that mouthy motherfucker out of his misery anyways.

Stop, drop, and Roll: Remember in grade school when they made us watch those fire safety videos, you know the ones, "stop, drop, and roll"?? Well, I have the same advice if you ever find yourself on the ground surrounded by a slew of overpriced sneakers. The one mistake that people try to do when they are on the ground taking a Grade A ass-whipping is quickly get up, which is a huge mistake because your face will become a defacto catcher's mit of punches way as you try to get to your feet. I also hate that defeated approach, you know the one, where the person just covers their face up while in the fetal position - just hoping that the savage beating will stop as soon as possible. My advice is when you are on the ground just roll around like you are on fire, and when you get to an impediment(someones leg) throw a vicious elbow to that individuals knee, then repeat. Listen, it may not help you, but at least you can find comfort in maiming a motherfucker and knowing that you getting your ass handed to you wasn't in vain.

Stick and Move: I guess this is an obvious one, but sticking and moving is essential whenever you are getting jumped. We all have ego's, so it is a natural reaction for you to admire your work, meaning you sit there and watch your opponent after you hit him with a brutal punch. Please ignore that temptation because you might get a concussion that way, so the best thing to do is punch a motherfucker and move immediately, or punch him and spin him around. It sounds silly, punching some jackass and spinning him around like the both of you are ballroom dancing, but its better than spitting out teeth isn't it??

Be Randy Savage!: Not only is it a good idea because it freaks out some of the would be ass whoopers, but grabbing a guy and throwing him out of the way is just good strategy when being jumped. What you need to do is pick up the smallest guy out of the pack of miserable bastards that pray and pray on your downfall, and before you toss him like a pair of horseshoes use him as a weapon and back some of his boys off. This one time it worked like a charm for me, the way I grabbed a motherfuckers ankles and batted his boys away was classic. Granted, the guy I threw around was a midget who had to weigh all of 70 pounds, but that's semantical argument you motherfucker.

A few rules that I live by..

Hey, I'm a pretty simple guy, a dude who just wants a couple of hot meals mixed in with a few fleeting moments of climax via Internet filth. Since I'm a hypocrite of "I'd never fuck Mariah Carey, I'd fold her loony ass up like origami!" proportions, I usually reject trying to live up to any personal code of conduct. There I go being a hypocrite again, I actually do live by my own personal "code" so to speak. Here are a few of my rules..


1. I Never Date a Woman who has wild animals as pets: Maybe I'm alone here, but every time I have dated a chick who had a python, or some dangerous animal that shouldn't be domesticated as a pet, she has wound up being nuttier than squirrel turds. Besides having a mental disorder, most of the times these chicks have the wildest sexual appetites imaginable. Listen, I'm all for my lady dressing in a catholic school uniform, me fucking her while I'm in a pope's robe, and possibly later on me eating mac and cheese off of her backside, I can get freaky with the rest of them. But that's tame compared to the "Hey, let me blow you on a roller-coaster-I want you to wear a diaper so I can literally breast feed you-let me take a steaming dump on you chest" request you get from these broads.


2. I can't trust a man who doesn't like sports: I'm not saying that a dude has to be into the major sports or anything, but at least like A sport. I don't know what it is, but if a heterosexual man openly admits like he's giving the "I have a Dream" speech that he doesn't like sports, I feel that that bastard isn't to be trusted. At least like tennis, bowling, I might give your sorry ass a pass even if you say that you are a curling aficionado.

3. I am a firm believer in snitching: Granted, if you are involved in a robbery and you are the only on that got caught, I don't believe in snitching in that case. But all other cases I believe in snitching the same way Rakim believes in his microphone, the same way Karl Rove believes in smearing people, the same way that Karin Steffans believes in cock. Let me tell you something, I'm not supposed to go to the police if I witness someone getting killed because it goes against some fucking code of conduct?? Man, fuck you!! I don't believe in snitching on my friends, but if I didn't do anything wrong and I have jail time hanging over my head based on something my boy did, I'm telling like a motherfucker. Imagine me sitting in jail based on something I didn't do, eating horrible meals and hoping that a fellow inmate named "Tiny" doesn't decide to ram his cock into my prostate because I didn't want to be considered a "snitch". Again, fuck you!

4. I Never date a woman who has bad kids: Ladies, I know that many of you have kids and men who you date should be understanding of that. But ladies, I don't need to understand your kid having the mark of the best on the back of his head, tearing up shit and acting like a complete animal based on your sub-par parenting skills. Not only do I discontinue the possibility of a relationship because the woman's kids should be in a padded room somewhere, but I know me, and if I'd stayed I'd probably end up saying something that I regret like "You need to put these crumb-snatching bastards on a leash!!", "Jesus, these kids are the poster-children for abortions!", or "Whap!".(Ok, thats not a word but the sound of my hand across their behinds.)

5. If someone says they like a wack rapper, I never trust anything they ever fucking say again!: Its the truth, tell me in confidence that you like the verbal stylings of Paul Wall or some other garden variety handicapped lyricist, and I won't listen to anything you say.. Ever. I'm serious, if I had what I thought was an incurable disease and you tried to explain to me that you had the antidote, you would just sound like Charlie Brown's teacher to me.


6. I never date a woman with bad taste in music or film: Since I'm a music and film snob, I try to find out what a woman's tastes are immediately. It's horrible and I know I'm probably leaving a lot of women in the cold, but you have to believe that I'm doing those women a service. See, if I decided to get with a woman who liked 3-Six mafia or Young Jeezy, I'm pretty sure things would go alright between us for a while. But I'm sure that one day I would find myself in an abandoned parking lot some where, meeting some stranger and paying him an extremely large amount of money to perform a hit for me.

7. I never fight midgets or the handicapped..anymore: It's true, once upon a time I had no problem punching motherfuckers regardless if they were in a wheel chair, mentally slow, even if they were vertically challenged. But now I see the error in my ways and from this point forward I plan to fight people who are my size, and who are of sound mind and body. Plus, I can't get over the embarrassment of drunkenly fighting a midget one night that talked shit to me, and some lady screaming "Why don't you fight someone your own size!!", so I got on my knees and whipped that midgets ass!

8. I never go down on a chick who keeps a messy house: I'm not the neatest person in the world but let me explain. This might sound silly, but I don't date a woman who has a messy house because if she keeps her living quarters in such disarray, image the sad state of affairs she keeps her vagina. I'm just saying.

Video of the Day: De La Soul: "Baby Phat"

I'm glad that people genuinely like what I do here, I really am, but the weirdest part about it is all of the people who come to me with legitimate problems and real life concerns. Even though taking advice from the likes of me is akin to asking Courtney Love for hygiene tips based on the daily drivel that you see here, but I still warn people that I'm the wrong source of advice imaginable. Anyway, I got an email from this woman named Suzy who told me about her boyfriend threatening to leave her because she gained a few pounds. Before I could get around to answering the email, she sent me a photo and it was obvious that not only was she a lovely lady that shouldn't have anything to worry about, but that her boyfriend should be beaten to death with a pillowcase of soda's. So of course I gave her words of encouragement and told her to be proud of who she is, along with my phone number and how I prefer chicks who lack a gag reflex. I know that a trained therapist wouldn't hit on his clients, but motherfucker I'm not a trained therapist!!! Anyway, Suzy, this video is dedicated to you.



*Suzy is Ok with being outed*

Shooting After Jim Jones Rap Concert in VA Beach

From AllHipHop.com

One person died and three others were injured in a shoot-out that erupted early this morning (Sept. 22) after a Virginia concert last night by Dipset rapper Jim Jones, sources reported.

The shooting occurred around 2 a.m. at the Miami Restaurant and Lounge in Virginia Beach.

Witnesses allege that multiple shots were fired, and one male victim was taken away in an ambulance after the club was placed on lockdown by local police.

"The shooting occurred when the club was clearing out," Virginia Beach Police media relations officer Margie Long told AllHipHop.com. "We are still conducting interviews, because there were numerous shooters. One victim died and the [other] victims suffered serious injuries. One victim was flown out by helicopter to [a] local trauma center."

The name of the victim was not released, pending notification of next of kin.

No arrests were made in the shooting, and the motive of the crime is being investigated.

In July, a concert featuring fellow Dipset member Juelz Santana turned violent at a club in Allentown, Penn.

Two people were arrested and four were treated for minor injuries in that incident.

One of the wackest rappers to ever grip a microphone comes to my fair city and I didn't know about it?? I'm slipping in my own age, if I'd known that he was coming I would have picketed him with civil rights era signs, alerting everyone to his proverbial wackness. I would have made it known via megaphone that listening to Jim Jones is like hearing a constipated turkey, just with less of a vocabulary. Rest in Peace to the gentleman who lost his life last night, but I just know that Peter is asking him at the Pearly gates, "What in the fuck were you doing at a Jim Jones show anyway?"

Weird Al - White and Nerdy

Is the current state of Hip Hop like the Bush Administration??(A Repost by Request)

You know what, I can say with a straight face that I sort of respect Bush supporters, I'm being completely honest with you. I mean, despite an economy in the shitter, blatant incompetence that makes you think that Barney Fife has been the one running the country for the last 6 years, Katrina, being lied into a war, and a shitload of other offenses that I could list for days on end, people still want to stand behind their commander in Chief, that is loyalty like a motherfucker. The way that people who support this administration tell you, with a straight face of their own by the way, that Iraq is going swimmingly is a commitment to incompetence that I am forced to applaud. It reminds me of Hip Hop in a way, despite the proverbial wackness that the genre is in, the depleted level of skill that is being passed off as being "lyrical" nowadays, the unimaginative cluster-fuck of artists that are being embraced by the masses, there are still a great deal of people who simply can't, won't, or don't recognize the shit-storm thats around them. It made me start to think that Hip Hop is a lot like, *gulp*, the Bush administration.

Hip Hop fans: "Bush supporters": Bush supporters are a lot like a lot of Hip Hop fans in many areas to be totally honest. They both are loyal to people who treat them like glass licking retards, nodding along like the mindless automatons that they are as their intelligence is being insulted, eating up every word like its the fucking gospel. Also, Bush supporters and fans of sub-par Hip Hop have something else in common as well, they get hysterical and act all emotional like a schizophrenic on her period if you talk about "their guy" in unflattering terms. I'm serious, say something bad about Bush to one of his supporters, or say that Young Jeezy's music sounds like a gorilla cumming and see the reaction you get. Like prodigy said, "..you better have that riot gear ready.."

Hip Hop Journalists: "Fox News": Listen, when I tell you to not listen to Hip Hop journalists I mean it, so if you consider me one and want to ignore me like an Eddie Murphy comeback album so be it, because I applaud independent thought. Just like there are good Hip Hop fans out there, there are also great Hip Hop journalists as well, they are just few and far between. I mean, when they go out of their way to defend sub-par Hip Hop and assure the masses that Hip Hop isn't dead, how can we take them seriously? Especially considering that money is their bottom line, and they wouldn't want to fuck their writing career by being honest, and most of all they wouldn't want to mess up their life long aspiration of being on "Best Week Ever!!" Like Fox News, Hip Hop journalists aren't to be trusted because they are just shoving propaganda down your collective throats for a greater personal good.

Corrupt Politicians: "The Artists": Just like the dirty politicians associated with the Bush administration, most of the artists out there have no problems taking your hard earned money in exchange for such a shitty display of public service. People tell me that the days of payola in the music business are over, but based on the steady rotation of constant bullshit that is played on a daily bases on your public airways, I find that pretty difficult to believe. Just like that lobbyist that lines the pockets of your states senator just so he would vote a certain way when a certain bill is presented in front of him, I'm sure that artists, or their reps, line the pockets of some of these radio people so you too will be doing some ghetto dance in no time flat. Of course this isn't an indictment of all artists, but you all knew that..

Press Secretary: "DJ's": I'm not talking about your garden variety DJ, possibly one of your homeboys who still spins legitimate Hip Hop whenever he does a house party in your local area, I'm talking about some of the more popular mixtape DJ dudes who have reached prominence in the recent years. Most of these dude, my age or older who were born and raised on great Hip Hop, will wax poetically on "how great" the art-form is now and how it's "progressing". Those displays of ignorance made me want to go to one of their shows, approach them like I wanted an autograph, and as they reached for their pen I'd punch them in the throat repeatedly, possibly throwing their DJ equipment over their suffocating body for good measure. But I realized something, these dudes know that 90% of the stuff that they play is horseshit, but to keep their kids fed and maintain their monthly allowance of stripper cash, they have to put a good face on their feelings of the genre in its present state.(I guess they ignored O.C when he said, "I'd rather be broke and have a whole lot of respect") It reminds me of the Press Secretary, even though he privately knows the low approval ratings of the president, the shambles that is Iraq, and overall incompetence on every level on the administration, he has to go in front of the press core every day and act like things are going smoothly. Put a good face on things so to speak.

George W. Bush: "The Radio": Of course the radio doesn't represent real Hip Hop by any means, but George Bush doesn't exactly represent an authentic Commander in Chief either. Bush is simply a puppet being pulled by right wing puppet masters and the radio is just a vehicle for evil record execs, but what they both have in common is that they have the collective ear of the American people. The same way that Bush wants you to think that Democrats are a bunch of "cut and runners" when it comes to Iraq, the radio tries to make you forget your Hip Hop sensibilities and get you to make your "shoulder lean". The way that Bush always says that we are "fighting them there so we won't have to fight them here", is similar to the message the radio tries to brainwash you into "snap" dancing or doing a minstrel-esque dance entitled the "Chicken Soup".

Karl Rove: "Record executives": Karl Rove is just like those evil record executives, the men behind the curtain running the entire show with evil plans of world domination etched in their cerebellum's. The same way that Karl Rove was behind the shameless attacks on Max Cleland, a veteran who lost both legs and part of an arm in Vietnam by calling him "unpatriotic" in one of his campaigns, I feel that record execs are behind the notion that lyricism and integrity are things of the past concerning Hip Hop. The way that Karl Rove insisted that the republican party disregard Global Warming as nonsense and embrace lowing the standards of power plants just for a buck, despite the danger that both have on the health of American people, records execs have no qualms about putting out mindless Hip Hop that is endangering the Hip Hop landscape that we live in. Evil fucking bastards!