Mr. Cheney, you sure are a Dick!

Dick Cheney's comments concerning Howard Dean: "Howard Dean's over the top. I've never been able to understand his appeal. Maybe his mother loved him but I've never met anybody who does."

This is coming from the same piece of shit that voted against Head Start, banning plastic weapons, Meals on Wheels for seniors, the Martin Luther King holiday, and a resolution calling for the release of Nelson Mandela. Not to mention profiting off the war from your friends at Halliburton. A jet-fueled place in hell isn't hot enough for you, you miserable bastard.

The Breakfast Club

The other day, after seeing 3 of the cast members of the movie "The Breakfast Club" get honored at the 2005 MTV movie awards, I decided to rent the movie and view it again since I loved the movie so much as a kid. As I sat through for what had to be like the 50th time I saw it, something came amazingly clear to me, I am "The Breakfast Club"! When I say that I mean that I possess each one of the characteristics of all 5 individuals: The criminal, the nerd, the basket case, the jock, the princess. Since the previous 3 sentences aren't sufficient enough to explain my case, let me go into further detail.

A "Brain": I won't go on and on about how smart I think I am or how I am intellectually superior to anyone, but there are a few things that I must point out about myself. The main gripe that I get from my friends, whether it be from lifelong friends like Danny or the guys in my band, is that I am too analytical for their taste. During the election cycle when my republican friends used to argue politics, I would have an arsenal of facts and figures to my disposal that I would ramble off to underline my argument. They would say things like, "I don't have the stats or anything..", which I always responded, "Then why did you even get into the argument in the first place? Jackass"

In High School I would frustrate teachers because I didn't really apply myself, so I was always the main target to get picked on when a certain question was posed. The anger on their part would arise when I would deliver the right answer, them not knowing that I had a pretty decent photographic memory and that I had just read the answer that I had executed about 2 minutes prior to being picked. I remember that I had a very racist History teacher in my senior year, who tried to vilify Muhammed Ali because of his refusal to go to Vietnam. I quickly countered with a list of popular Americans, of various ethnicity's, who also avoided going to Vietnam as well. I took pleasure in the fact that her face got beet red in front of 30 of my classmates. OK, maybe I am more of a "smart ass" than "smart".

An "Athlete": My addiction to sports is the main reason that some of my "artsy fartsy" friends will never embrace me fully into their club, but that is totally OK with me. I realized that whoever is brave enough to marry me will have to deal with the fact that I basically watch SportsCenter on a loop, and that I pretty much dig all sports. What other black guy do you know, who isn't a sportscaster himself, can name off a handful of Hockey players? Like the character in the movie, I also had a sports dad, albeit for a very short while. I recall playing Pee-Wee soccer and my dad screaming, "Come on HumanityCritic, put that ball in the motherfucking goal! Shit!" When the other parents used to give him looks of disapproval he would defiantly tell them, "Mind your fucking business!" Then there was a time that I rode my bike in a BMX race and got third place, along with a trophy proving so. When we got home my mother said, "Wow, you got a third place trophy!" My dad, out of the side of his mouth said, "Yeah, he got third place out of three motherfucking people!!" Right then and there I feel that he realized that he was getting too emotionally involved in my sports career, and from that point on he played the background somewhat.

Even today, from playing basketball like I was playing for a championship, or pulling tricks on a skateboard, I am a bona fide sports junkie. I recently took up golf and I must say that I am getting better each time I play. Last time I went I went dressed in a Public Enemy t-shirt, camouflage shorts, and Shell-toe Adidas. Which isn't a crime, but when the group in front of us took their sweet time you could hear me yelling "Why don't you assholes hurry the fuck up already!!" When they gave me the finger I pulled out my driver, and hit a few golf balls in their direction. My shot is so bad that I was trying to miss them, but one of my balls hit one of the gentleman's golf cart. Due to that outburst I might have to find a new group of guys to play with.

A "Basketcase": If you have read this blog for at least 5 minutes then you are aware that I have mental issues that need to be worked out. I mean, I would never store body parts in my fridge or go on a shooting spree, but the need for a psychological evaluation is probably needed. Sometimes I have lengthy conversations with my dad in my dreams, but they are hardly about anything profound, just his advice to "keep my dick clean" and other weird sexual advice. This one time I held a grudge against someone I had for an entire year, and even though I hadn't seen that person in 12 calendar months, I walked up to them and punched him in the face as soon as I saw him.(I had no idea that the gentleman in question had just "found god" and was in town JUST to apologize to me)

I also agonize over my father's death, not blaming myself for his passing, but wishing I was less combative when he would put me down in a verbal manner. A day doesn't pass when I don't think about that dilemma in some way or another. Also I sabotage relationships, knowing that being hurt sucks, so I am emotionally unavailable and an unbearable prick. I really want to change that because I don't want to be the "old guy in the club" as Chris Rock puts it, or be 60 years old with a shitload of cats.

A "Princess": OK, I'm nobody's "princess" but I will attack this from the "snob" angle. Don't get me wrong, being a snob based on someones finances or station in life is deplorable and utterly despicable. But I am definitely a movie and music snob, hands down. I was talking to this beautiful woman who had a backside that you could bounce a quarter on, she was highly intelligent and had a delightful sense of humor. Everything was going fine until we got on the subject of music and she told me that she was a big lil john fan and she had every Jah Rule record ever made. From that point on, whatever came out of her mouth sounded like Charlie Brown's teacher to me.(Whah-whah-whah) When she handed me her number I said, "Don't be surprised if I don't call you, the whole Jah Rule thing is a definite deal breaker". She laughed, thought I was kidding and said "You are a funny guy!! I'll talk to you this week." About a month later I saw her and she rushed up and said, "You really didn't call me because I am a Jah Rule fan??" I just smiled, then she replied "You are a real asshole you know that?"(If I had a quarter for each time I was called an "asshole", I would be on some beach right now, being a snob to other fellow rich fucks.)

Another example was a incident that happened at blockbuster last week, A random lady had walked up to me and said, "Is 'Garden State' any good?" I could see that she was debating on renting that or the John Travolta movie 'Be Cool". I told her that 'Garden State' was the clear choice and I had her convinced until some douchebag Blockbuster employee came up and said, "Oh Hell no, 'Be Cool' was much better." I guess because the girl was wearing a Blockbuster uniform that was enough for the lady, so she put down 'Garden State' and rented 'Be Cool''. I shouted out, "'Be Cool' sucked ass! Matter of fact, that is one of the few movies I have walked out on in my lifetime!!" The lady was intrigued and said, "Really?" I went on and said how silly 'Be Cool' was, and that if she watched it that she would never get that precious two hours of her life back. The employee tried to counter but I interrupted "Obviously being a blockbuster employee doesn't equate to having movie taste. They should really screen you motherfuckers before they hire yall!" The lady rented 'Garden State', I rented the movies that I came for, and before i could close the door I could hear the word "asshole" being uttered very forcefully. Man if I had a quarter for every time someone called me an "asshole"

A "criminal": As far as I know I have a spotless criminal record, only going to jail overnight for certain fights that I have been in. I guess the old saying that god looks after fools and babies is true in my case, because I should have a rap sheet longer than Beyonce's weave. Granted, I am not a thief, a sexual predator, an arsonist, or anything like that. But the amount of fights that I have been into is downright criminal and embarrassing. From beating down a pharmacist who said some sexually suggestive things to my mother, to pulling a bartender over a bar when he said some bullshit to me, throwing a guy over a railing at a rave, throat chopping a dude who said that a friend of mine was a "dirty whore", I have had viscous violent outbursts.

Some people think that I talk about these things to seem tough, but my temper is hard to control sometimes and I try not to glorify it. Shit, maybe I do glorify it, but some people just need their ass whipped and I am more than willing to share tales of public beatdowns with you kind folks. To let you know, I have lost plenty of fights, and I sincerly wish that I didn't have so many tales of "beatting some dude's ass" to tell.

Word to the wise concerning being in a bar brawl. Whatever you do, if you are ever in a altercation in some watering hole, leave as soon as it's over. Most of the people who get arrested are the assholes who feel the need to stick around after said altercation, just inviting police intervention. Get your ass out of there! If I had hung around after every fight I have been in I am sure that I would be in somebody's prison, thinking about new and inventive ways to prevent being anally penetrated against my will.


Quote from the movie: "In the simplest terms, in the most convenient definitions of what we found out, that each one of us is a brain, an athlete, a basketcase, a princess, and a criminal."

I like Laila, but wait a minute...

A few years ago a friend of mine named Sharon wanted to learn how to defend herself, so she came to me saying "You have been in many fights, so I thought I would ask you." I was honored, but we both laughed when I said "But what if I got my ass whipped in those fights, I wouldn't be much help to you." Anyway, we hung out a couple of times a week and I showed her some basics. At first I figured she wanted to learn some fundamental things about fighting, but quickly I realized that she wanted to pursue it further. I pointed her in the direction of a boxing trainer that I knew and she is currently a pretty good kick boxer.

Early on, Sharon would drag me to see some professional female boxing matches, but seriously at first I was torn. It was one thing to have Sharon hit a heavy bag with me, but seeing females hit each other took some time for me to get used to. Eventually I was cool with it, and actually followed the sport whenever I could.

That brings me to Laila Ali. I think that Ms. Ali is beautiful, smart, and a pretty good fighter. I know that I always hate on people on this blog, and I will indeed hate on her in a few moments, but I actually like Laila Ali. Her father should be proud. I saw her fight on the under-card of the Tyson debacle this past weekend where she stopped her opponent in another win. She's undefeated, the champion, and she claims that she is the best female fighter out there. Problem with that is, she isn't.

There is a fighter named Lucia Rijker out of the Netherlands who has a kickboxing record of 36-0, 25 first round knockouts. Her boxing record is 15-0. She is a dangerous fighter, that took real fights with men and she beat their ass like they owed her money. A definite knock-out artist, that has a aggressive Tyson-like style(Tyson, pre-Buster Douglas) who is gifted with both hands.

The problem that I have with Ms. Ali is that Rijker is considered the baddest woman on the planet when it comes to boxing, but when they tried to set up a fight with her she claimed that Rijker was on "Steroids" even though every test Rijker has taken has been negative. Now when Ali is asked about fighting Rijker she claims that she is much bigger than Rijker, not in her weight-class, and that she would kill her. The words of my father ring in my head one time when we were playing craps, he would say, "Scared money don't make none."

Ms. Ali, you seriously can't be considered "the best" if you duck people and make excuses. To be the best you have to beat the best, that is what a champion is all about. If Rijker wants to fight you, and you want to prove like your father that you are the "Greatest of All Time", you should put your money where your mouth is. Your father would have never ducked anybody, think about that for a moment.

Tales from the Cheese-Wagon

Like many red-blooded Americans out there, I have ridden the monstrosity that many of us call the "cheese-wagon". From my recollection, I rode that yellow bus from 1980-1990, so you can only guess that I have many fond memories to relay to all of you. Here are a few "tales from the Cheese-Wagon" that happend during my ten year tenure on said bus. By all means, if any of you have tales that you want to express feel free.

School Bully(1983): Pretty much all my life I have been a bona fide smart ass. There was this bully named Terry that would terrorize every kid in my class, and when he wasn't causing absolute havoc he left everyone in his presence shook. This went on for months and the only reason I didn't say anything is because he was big for his age, and he could kick my ass. Come to think of it, that motherfucker failed twice so he had a couple of years on me as well. One day I had enough, and began to verbally capitalize on the fact that Terry had a sub-par I.Q. Witty retorts weren't his cup of tea, so he told me that he would pummel me after school. Why is it that when you are usually sitting in class the seconds drag on? But when you have a pre-determined date to get your ass whipped time flies by. After school Terry doesn't touch me so I am relieved, until I see him board my bus. He wasn't even supposed to take my bus so I knew that an ass whipping was on the menu for that afternoon.

The whole way home he is pounding his fists, saying "I'm going to kill you nigger". Shit, I was 10 years old for Christs sake and I have to not only deal with violence but outright racism? That sucks. As soon as I get off the bus Terry quickly follows, and as soon as the bus departs he begins to systematically whip my ass. The guy wouldn't stop kicking, punching, throwing racial slurs my way. I was crying, laying in the fetal position, then all of a sudden my rage appears(Lets call him Mitch) and says to me, "What are you doing?? Fight back!!" I stood up and began fighting back, I remember kicking him in the nuts like 5 times and beating him in the head with my Trapper Keeper. I remember damn near breaking my wrist from all the punches I threw incorrectly. Lets just say that Terry didn't say shit to anyone from that point on. But that day haunts me to this day. See, it made me not fear anyone, which is dangerous. Don't get it twisted, I'm not saying that with some sort of macho swagger, it is a trait that I wish I didn't have. I have, and can still, get my ass whipped. I just don't fear anyone, and that is a trait that might someday get me killed. "Mitch" is a big part of my personality and sometimes I wish he would go the fuck away.

Wham!(1984): When I was 11 years old I was in love with a girl named Kirsten. Kirsten was a white girl who was really developed for a 11 year old, and thinking back I think our shared love for the Nucleus song "Jam on it" increased my affection for her. The whole year I was crushing on her hard, we would even sit together during lunch every day like a old married couple. So one day I decided that I would make my move and ask her if she wanted to be my "girlfriend". I approached her with the infamous "Do you like me? check the box for "yes" or the box for "no" letter. She looked at it, looked at me, and told me that she would tell me tomorrow. "What in the fuck is there to think about?", I thought.(I have always been the impatient type) I must tell you, outside of wondering if I knocked some girl up, or tossing and turning because there was a possibility of me doing jail time for hitting some dude with a bottle in a bar, that was one of biggest sleepless nights I have ever had. When I returned to school the next day I knew that the news probably wouldn't be good when Kirsten didn't say a word to me when I greeted her. Later that day, she slowly walked up to me and said "I'm sorry" as she handed me the letter. Obviously when I opened the letter, the box next to "No" was checked.

My little world was shattered, I couldn't eat anything because I lost my appetite. When I got on the bus I put on my headphones like I did everyday. This is kind of embarrassing, but I laid on a seat in the back of the bus, singing the words to George Michael's "Careless Whisper" as I thought about beautiful Kirsten and how she had rejected me. That shit is kind of pathetic now that I think about it.

Rage Against the "Janeane"(1987): We all know what the dozens are, the age old past-time of cracking jokes on each other. Mama Jokes, jokes about hygiene, appearance, anything was fair game. A girl that I went to school with named "janeane" would partake in the festivities. It was our daily ritual on the way home to attack anything sacred about an individual, and laugh our asses off doing so. Well, apparently Janeane was having a bad day or some shit because on the way home she glared out of the window, not joining in on the fun. We asked her what was wrong and she ignored us. We tried to make her laugh but that didn't work. So we did the next best thing, we joked the shit out of her.

I mean everything from "how obese her mother is", to the miscellaneous smells coming from her vagina, we were absolutely brutal. In the middle of a particular joke I was telling Janeane jumps out of chair, and she "Three Stooges" slaps me and a couple of other guys. Hard. I just sat there, looking stupid, not knowing what to do. I wasn't going to beat up a girl, even though the thought crossed my mind. I found out later that her parents had just decided to get divorced so that was the reason for her rage that day. I fully understood why she would slap me like that, but that didn't stop me from paying this big girl named Wanda 5 dollars to beat the breaks off of Janeane. I know, that's fucked up.

Sloppy 5ths(1989): This was an important year for yours truly because this is when I went from social obscurity to "everybody's buddy and honey" as Biz Marky so succinctly put it. See, the previous year I was known as a skateboarder, so the intellectually retarded black folks thought that riding a wooden board with wheels on it was me "trying to be white"(These are the same peasants that grew up and currently think how you speak determines your "blackness". Assholes.) Well this one girl named Carla gave me shit constantly the previous year, calling me "white boy" whenever she saw me. See, if she was a guy then I could just break his nose or something, her gender gave her a free pass to ridicule me at will. Fast forward a entire school year, when being a "track star" bumped me up from being "ashy to classy" as B.I.G put it.

It's amazing how people change gears and go from hating you to hanging on your every word when you speak. This change of heart affected Carla the most. She joked around with me, asked me on dates, and told her friends how cute I was. Frustrated, I grabbed her and said, "Bitch, you don't remember last year when you gave me all that shit??" She replied that she did it because she liked me, which was bullshit. Anyway, Carla road my bus and she was talking about how good her "oral" skills were. I, in my general hornyness, said "prove it". Even though I meant for her to prove it on ME, she began to randomly "service" dudes in the back of the bus. I have never liked "sloppy seconds", and by the looks of things I was like 5th in line, but I didn't give a fuck that day. I got in the back seat and she began to do her thing, so well in fact I thought good things, not how she tormented me a year earlier. Next thing I know the bus driver has stopped the bus, and is ordering us to "stop that immediately!" I was shook, but Carla didn't stop, and I didn't stop her, so lets just say that that bus driver got to see a "mouth hug" up close and personal that day.

Somewhere Over the Rainbow

My best friend and I have lived in the same neighborhood for about 2 years now. When it comes to drinking in close proximity our options are pretty limited. There is a bar right up the street that is currently called "Crazy C's", that has changed owners about 5 times in the past year. Then there is a bar across the street that Danny and I hardly talk about. OK let me explain. I am the furthest thing from a homophobe, but the bar "across the street" is currently a gay bar.** It was once a gay biker bar, but then it turned into a "regular" gay bar, and the chances of me ever setting foot in there were the same as me becoming a black republican. When Danny would wear something even remotely feminine I would say, "Did you just come from the gay bar up the street?" That drinking establishment was a running joke between the two of us for a while. That was until one very snowy night a few months back.

A few months back when we had a pretty bad snow storm(bad for Virginia) Danny and I looked for a place to drink. We went everywhere, that bar up the street was closed, 5 bars that we went to in our city was closed, 3 bars that we went to in a neighboring city were closed, we were officially fucked. As we come back home dejected after not finding a place to drink at, we both look over and see that the gay bar is open. We briefly look at each other, thinking the same thing and I say, "Fuck no! Hell no man!" Danny replies, "You are supposed to be the liberal here, all excepting of everyone and shit. What gives?" I reply, "It's not about them being gay, but what if I see some girl there that I know?" "What are you talking about", he says. I say, " OK, when I used to go to this lesbian bar to check out some bi-curious chicks I would often see girls that I knew. No matter how much they told me that they were "just there for a drink", I would always think they were full of shit. If I saw a girl there that I knew there would be no explaining that!" Danny turned the car around and said, "I'm getting drunk so fuck you!"

He pulls right in front of the gay bar and says, "Are you coming or not?" Defiantly I said, "Not, I'm walking home". "Suit yourself asshole!", he said as he walked in. I sat in the car pondering a few things. 1. Was I giving a phony excuse because I am a homophobe? 2.What in the fuck is up letting Danny talk to me that way 3.Damn I hate Shaq 4.Damn Serena Williams has a fat ass and 5.I really do want to drink.(OK, my mind wonders) I enter the establishment and for some reason I felt the sudden need to walk with a tough swagger, and even speak with a rougher voice. I sit beside Danny and the Bartender says, "Honey, we all know you are straight, don't worry!" Even though I thought I should be embarrassed by what the bartender said, I was actually happy, because this is a homosexual with the ultimate "Gay-dar" and he knows that I am straight as straight can be. So Danny and I begin to systematically throw back shots, but I was still a little wary about my surroundings.

The funny thing is I guess a few straight guys that I knew had the same problem we did in finding a bar, because about 7 guys that I knew all showed up within minutes. The conversations between us went like this: Me: What's up man? Them: Nothing man. I'm not gay, I just want a drink. Me:Me either, I just want to get a drink. I'm all man baby! And when I say baby I mean it as slang, not really calling YOU baby. Typical guys.

Little did I know that that night would change my life forever. I sparked up a conversation with this gentleman named Richard who had just lost his lover to AIDS. He told me that at his lover's funeral, it was this religious right-wing fanatic along with his followers who picketed the funeral and said things like "All fags are going to hell" during the funeral proceedings." He laughed when I told him that if I was him that I would of cut that guys' nuts off and shoved them in his mouth. Richard laughed even more when I told him that I was dead ass serious. There was also this dude named Chris, who basically had two black eyes, who told me that he had gotten beaten up leaving the bar we were at simply because he was gay. I assured him that if that guy showed up tonight that I would beat his ass in front of everybody, he giggled and said "OK, I'm going to take you up on that!"

The coolest thing was that they all laughed at my wildly inappropriate jokes. When I said "I'm not getting too drunk around you guys because i don't want to wake up with stretch marks around my mouth" they laughed. When I told a gentleman who didn't laugh at my jokes, "Come on guy, if you can take a dick then you can take a joke"(I heard that somewhere) they laughed as well. Moments later this beautiful sister walked in with a couple of her friends, but I didn't try to speak to her because about an hour earlier I had seen someone who I thought was a woman but wasn't. She walks over and says, "How about you buy me a drink?" Usually I tell women to fuck off when that question is posed, not because I am cheap, but because I am an asshole and I would buy you drinks all night if you just let me initiate the order of things. But tonight I feel pretty generous so I buy her and her friends some drinks.

We talk a while and I ask if she is really a female, she sternly says "Hell yes!" I say "prove it" and she flashes me her tits, making me simply say "You could of had surgery!" This chick pulls down her skirt and underwear and exposes her pierced clitoris, again I say "A guy can get one of those too!" She then riffles through her purse and not only shows me her I.D, but a picture of her as a child, and a birth certificate. It was weird because as soon as she showed me proof of her gender I got a pretty stiff erection, which troubled me because of where I was at exactly. We exchanged numbers but to be totally honest I never called her, maybe her birth certificate was a forgery!

The night winds down, me and Danny heavily intoxicated, leaving the establishment heavily intoxicated. We are standing outside I am, believe it or not, having a pretty polite argument with a gentlemen about how "There is no way you can compare being gay to the civil rights movement." I told him that even though I am leaving the bar with a new outlook, there is no way I could except that assertion. In the middle of our discussion a car pulls up and a grizzled looking guy not only throws a bottle near us, he scream out "I should burn this bar down! Nothing but Niggers and Faggots!" I looked at Chris and he had told me that that was the guy that had beaten him up. The guy gets out of the car with a gas can, this mother fucker was really going to burn the place down!

When he walks up I punch him in the face with all my might, dropping his ass like a sack of potatoes. For the next five minutes I beat him bloody all over that fucking parking lot, thinking about how he just called me a "nigger", thinking about that right wing douchebag that picketed his lovers funeral, thinking about Chris getting beat up. I must of kicked this guy a thousand times, then something very scary happened. I put him back in his car and started to pour gas all over the car. All I heard was a chorus of gay men scream, "Noo" as Danny tackled me and asked me "What in the fuck are you doing? You trying to burn this asshole up and be in jail forever?" He had a good point, so as we hear sirens in the background we start to leave.

Chris comes up to the passenger side window and thanks me. He says, "I know you won't come here again, but it was cool that you were understanding." I shake his hand and head home. As I stand in the shower, washing premium grade gasoline off me, I just reflect on what had just happened.

Damn, My Black Ass is getting old.

For the past year and some change, to maintain my chubby figure, I have been playing basketball at the local YMCA as much as I can. Like many areas of my life, I don't have many friends at the YMCA and for the life of me I don't know why. Could it be because I wouldn't let a 45 year old black man get a shot off, blocking his shot and being a defensive pest, after he revealed to me that he was a elitist right-wing conservative?** Could it be that I can be heard telling some random person, "Get That shit outta here" when I block a shot? Could it be because when I go on a roll, scoring 8 or more straight points, I look around and say "Who in the fuck is guarding me anyway??"? Or could it possibly be because when a female college player came in there talking shit, and calling me Bob Marley, I lit her ass up for 25 points and kept calling her "sugar-tits" for 2 hours? OK, maybe I'm not the most likable person.

But I have maintained a pretty good friendship with a dude named Sam. Sam is about 21, a pretty cool guy, and the fact that he is 6'8 and can jump out of the building definitely helps when he is on my team. Because I am 10 years his senior I keep wanting to provide that "Big Brother" advice, give the young brother some words of wisdom. But I always decide against giving him any advice because i realize that he has witnessed me taunt my opponent by suggesting that they were "inbred" and that they had the ball handling abilities of Christopher Reeve, so i don't think Sam would take me seriously.

Sam is a good guy, with a head on his shoulders, and he allows me to pretend that I am Magic Johnson when I throw him a sweet alley-oop and yell out something wildly inappropriate like "Put some nuts in his face!!" For the past few months Sam has been asking me to hang out but I always felt that I was too old to be hanging with a 20 year old. I always tell him "You don't want to hang with a old guy like me." Unfortunately I think I offended him which clearly wasn't my intent, so our "basketball" friendship was strained somewhat.

That was until, and I don't know who gave him the address, he discovered my blog.(Maybe I did and forgot) I felt like an immature bastard when he said the following: "Dude, I read your blog! You like women, drinking, beating dude's asses, and talking shit. That's right up my alley!" (Suddenly the words of my mother rang in my head when she once told me, "HumanityCritic, you are a 31 year old boy!" Gee, thanks mom!) So he invited me to his 21st birthday party that he was having at his sister's house in a couple of days and I figured why not.

The next day I offer to buy him a shitload of booze for his party so I pick him up to buy some. As we are driving I am playing the standard Hip Hop classics. Public Enemy's "Rebel without a Pause", OC's "Times Up", MC Lyte's "10% Diss", and a few other classics. Granted Sam is a big dude, but I wanted to punch him in the jaw when he said, "What is all that old shit you are playing?? Did that shit come out in the 60's? You have any Mike Jones or T.I.? The look on my face must have been menacing as fuck because he giggled and said, "Naw, it's cool. This shit is alright"

After I drop him and the booze off at his sisters house, I tell him that I will be back at the party later. A couple of hours later I arrive at his party, with the sounds of illegitimate hip hop flooding my eardrums. Sam is happy to see me and he introduces me as his "O.G homeboy" which didn't feel like a compliment as I felt gray hairs grow on my beard. I go to the kitchen to grab a beer and I meet his sister, who is about my age. I introduce myself and spark a quick conversation, but as soon as I get a sentence out she puts her hand up and says, "Forget it Honey, I'm a lesbian!" I quickly shot back, "The mere fact that you thought I was trying to get with you from me saying 'Your brother is a good kid' is absolutely amazing!! Get over yourself."

I thought by being so direct that I would be leaving soon but she was cool in the end, asking me if I was planning on getting with any girls at the party. I told her "hell no" primarily because most of the women there were 10 years or more my junior and it would feel awkward. Then some words were uttered that I thought would never come from the lips of any woman, she said: "Hell, they are legal. Pussy is Pussy!" Sarcastically I said, "Great, that's just great" and continued drinking.

Even though I wanted to be there for Sam, the "crunk" music was driving me absolutely bat-shit. But something miraculous happens when alcohol is involved in the equation, the music begins to get better and the women look a lot less like Jail bait. The next thing I know I am free-styling on the Mic with a few of his friends, wondering what happened to my previous plan on leaving that I had moments before.

Moments later this girl comes up and asked me to dance with her. I ask her how old she is and she says that she is 20 years old. (Angel appears on my shoulder) Angel: Now HumanityCritic, you know that girl is too..(I grab the angel off of my shoulder and throw him against the wall) HumanityCritic: Shut the fuck up!! I start to dance with this young woman by the name of Brandy as I am eying her thick thighs, believing that this woman is definitely a beef eater, and thank god for that. She's telling me how cute i am and how much she "wants me". All of this is sounding like a sweet melody to someone who is inebriated and just recently smoked a joint.

As we make out in a bedroom that Sam's sister graciously provided us, and as i grab a condom that has been in my wallet probably since the first Bush administration, the angel that I threw against the wall comes barging in.

Angel: I didn't want to do this Critic, but here goes!(shooting some sort of gun at me)

(Apparently that angel that is usually on my shoulder hit me with some sort of conscious beam, or the weed was getting me paranoid, because I thought the following things.)
1: She's 20, so her Dad is probably my older brother's age. That just ain't right.
2: What if she has some new disease that hasn't been discovered yet, and that nasty shit can penetrate medal, so latex is no problem.
3: What if I knock this broad up, and she wants to name our child some ghetto shit? Like "encyclopedia", or "Corona"? Fuck that..
4. What am I doing? Let me get my black ass home.

So I politely tell the young woman that I'm leaving and I get out of the room before I do something stupid. I see Sam and his sister and at the same time they both throw up their hands and say "Damn that was quick!!", I informed them that nothing happened, and hightailed it out of there like I was Cinderella knowing that my good judgment had a time limit on it. As i am driving home the devil that is usually on my shoulder and my younger self are cursing me the fuck out. I ignored the voices because I knew that I did the right thing, and I didn't want to think about the fact that i might be schizophrenic.

I see Sam the following Monday at the YMCA and as soon as he saw me he giggled, which felt great. He asked me "what happened with Shorty" and I said something like "she wasn't with it man, she said that I was too old." He said, "That's funny, because I told her to let you knock those boots." "What", I said, "You put her up to that??" He told me he had and suddenly i felt like a complete loser that needed to be hooked up. Next thing I know Sam hands me his sister's number, says that she really isn't a lesbian, and she really likes me.

As we talked Sam told me that he considers me a "big brother" and that he invited me to his party to show his appreciation for being a positive influence. Right when my tear ducts started to fill up I say, "Wait, you've read my blog, what positive influence??" He told me that it's how I carry myself and I suddenly felt that Sam had very low standards of a role model. But it made me want to give him that good advice that I always wanted to give, I wanted to act like a responsible adult with class and decorum. I would be the positive influence that this young man needed.

Then 10 minutes later I find myself throwing Sam a alley-oop and yelling "Dunk on that motherfucker!! Put some nuts in his face!!" I guess the "class and decorum" part comes with some practice.

**Sidenote* Don't you hate people who think they are better than other individuals because their education, economic situation, or what they eat or drink? You are a piece of shit, elitest douchebag.)

Wanting to drag someone out of their car and beat them: Road Rage

I have admitted many times on this blog that I can have somewhat of a temper, acknowledging that many of the things that I get mad about can be pretty petty. When someone says some dumb shit to me I have tried to do breathing exercises, go somewhere else mentally, even covering my mouth and walking away to stop from saying something vile in response.(all silly, all true) But driving around the other day doing errands I began to feel absolutely secure in the rage I express towards other people because I believe that someone's inability to drive is putting my life in danger. Here are a few things that piss me off while I am behind the wheel of an automobile.

People with Cellphones: Why is it when someone isn't paying attention at a light, they almost come into your lane, or some other driving act of incompetence it is always that motherfucker yapping away on a cellphone. Get a speakerphone option on your phone, or an earpiece, but pay attention to what you are doing before you kill my black ass. When you always pull up beside these individuals they are talking their life away, laughing it up, while I want to drag them out of their car ala Reginald Denny. Pay attention!

Pedestrians: I know that pedestrians have the right of way and all that but they aren't innocent either. Have you ever been in a Grocery Store parking lot and you let some people cross in front of your car as they are going in the store or towards the parking lot? OK, nothing wrong with that, I just have a problem when you let somebody by and they walk at a snails pace. Lets move it along Lady!! I know this is a pretty petty, but this does tend to get under my skin.

Bastard Kids: Do kids have a death wish nowadays or what? Whenever I am driving in a residential area I always try to be very conscious of children, especially ones that might dart out in front of your car over a lost ball or something. Again, that is fine. But it seems that when I see kids, when I say kids I mean about11-17, crossing the street on a 35-45 miles per hour road they always wait until the last possible minute to cross in front of you. Last year a kid did just that, ran out at the last possible minute, so I slammed on the breaks and my car did a 360. As I was stopped in the middle of the street the kid said, "Dude, that was cool" Infuriated I said, "Fuck you, you miserable little piece of shit!!" If you ever need a guy to curse out a 13 year old, I'm your man.

Elderly Drivers: I am not one of those individuals that thinks that revoking someones license because of their age is the right thing to do. BUT, I do believe that once you get to the age of 70 that DMV should test you every six months to determine how your driving skills are holding up. That might still seem unfair, but I came to that conclusion when I was driving on the highway a few weeks ago and a elderly man was going 10 miles an hour. I was so scared for the dude that I called the police, didn't mean to be a snitch but big ass trucks were zipping by him. Didn't want to see an elderly man become roadkill.

Back up off me: Nothing pisses me off like people who drive entirely too close to you. This happens quite frequently, so what I do is either tap on my brakes or go about 2 miles an hour so they get the picture. I have to tell you that I have some anti-bush stickers so maybe many of those people are just trying to read what they say. But remember, I live in a bona fide red state so many of my stickers piss people off so much that they feel the need to rush beside me and pier into my car. I figure they see my long locs and figure I am a chick, but when they pull beside me and give a menacing look I always throw my hands up and scream "What motherfucker!!"

Look both ways: The main road leading out of my neighborhood has three streets that run through it. The main road has no stop signs but all of the streets crossing over said street requires you to stop. It never fails, even though I know people who have lived in that neighborhood for 20 years or more they either flat out ignore the stop sign, or they only look in one direction then go. I can't tell you how many times I have gotten into altercations with people who damn near sideswiped me. This lady almost hit me yesterday, then had the nerve to get out of her car and flip me off with both fingers like it was my fault. Funny thing is she is the wife of the preacher that I cursed out months back.

If you can't stand the Heat..

I love blogging, I really do. The main reason is because you good folks don't hold back on your comments, positive or negative, and I like that. Yall have been cool, and my mother wanted to ask all of you guys how could you deal with such filth after she read this, but I digress.The main reason that I usually don't respond in the comment section is because most of the comments are just that, your opinions, and since it is hardly something requiring a response so I usually don't. Many people disagree with a lot of what I write here, but there are two topics that yall will never feel me on and that is OK because I'm not trying to convert you. Those two topics are my take on religion and Kobe Bryant.(yes I'm a Lakers fan)

I must say because I am a Kobe Bryant fan that I took a perverse pleasure in the Heat being given their walking papers last night. Even though I feel that Shaq has talked shit all year about Kobe and has been a 300 pound bitch-like whining malcontent, I thought I would give him a break and not diss him today. That was until I heard that he said the following about Ben Wallace a couple of days ago: "My thing is, if you're the defensive player of the year, show me," O'Neal said. "Show me. That's my thing." He then went on to say ". "I'm the Diesel, I'm just being me. You guys are the ones that vote for defensive player of the year and the (bleep) awards that you all be handing out."

For one thing no one can guard Shaq, the guys is a beast, I can admit that. But. Wallace is 6-9, 240 whereas Shaq is 7-1, 325 so just consider that for a minute.

Well Shaq, that "Defensive player of the year" is going to the finals while your non rapping, wack movie making ass will be back in Miami thinking up some more incoherent shit to say about Kobe.

Happy Birthday Prince Rogers Nelson

People give Prince a tremendous amount of shit because of his strange behavior, the clothes that he wears, or his height, but in my opinion he is the MAN.. Any man that can claim to have notches on his belt that include Vanity, Appolonia, Sheila E, Mai Tai, Sheena Easton, Carmen Elektra, Nona Gay, and Kim Bassinger gets absolute respect from me.(I'm a pig, you guys know that!) I have to be totally honest, I am more of a fan of his work pre-Diamonds and Pearls but that is just me. My favorites songs of his include "1999", "Lady Cab Driver", "Delirious", "Purple Rain", "Sign of the times", and countless other songs that I could be all day naming.(Feel free to name some of your favorites) But my favorite song, even though I know its cliche to say, is "Darling Nikki". I could write an entire post breaking down the numerous times I have penetrated someones daughter to this song. For that Prince, I owe you a sincere "thank you"

Happy Birthday

Glowsticks, Pornstars, and Black Hippies

A little while ago my friend Andre, his girlfriend, and I went to New York together to attend a big party that some people in Andre's girlfriends line of work were having. For the sake of the story lets call her "Jane" since I feel uncomfortable revealing her true identity because the mere fact that she is a porn star. To be totally honest I am shocked that her and Andre are still together but I am happy for them.(I talked about them before here) The only problem is that when I hang out with them I feel very awkward knowing that I have "touched myself" to some of her "earlier work, but the awkwardness quickly disappears when I realize how cool she is. Then again, the awkwardness always seems to resurface when she winks at me and flashes me her tits, but I digress.

When we arrived in New York she rented out a apartment in Manhattan where we could stay. As it sounded like a Nascar Pit Crew was in the bathroom with "Jane" as she got ready to go out that night, Andre and I waited patiently by playing some Playstation. Minutes later she came in looking like 5 and a half feet of Dirty sex, so I desperately tried to hide my "chubby" from everyone in attendance. For some reason she wanted to watch us play video-games so she just sat there for a few minutes and looked on. See, Andre and I were playing a game called "Hitman Contracts" where you go on these missions where you put "hits" on people. The object of the game is to not only kill the target desired, but to do it with absolute stealth, trying to go virtually unnoticed. Andre is pretty good at it, he always maintains a "Master Hitman status". I on the other hand don't believe in stealth, and usually go in "Guns ablazin'" not giving a solitary fuck who sees me when I take someone out. So basically I usually maintain a "Mass Murderer" rating.

"Jane" watched our conflicting styles and said the following: "Andre, how you play says alot about you as a person. Patient, Meticulous, willing to follow rules. HumanityCritic, your playing style tells me that you are indeed impatient, Brash, cocky, breaking rules whenever possible." I figured she was right, but it was hard being psychoanalyzed by someone who was probably on camera being triple penetrated a day earlier, but I kept that thought to myself.

We arrived to what would turn out to be a rave, mixed with her porn star friends and the general public. As I walk in, the nauseating sound of techno music infiltrates my ears and I kept wanting to run back the fuck out. Andre looked at me and basically read my mind and started giggling. My mood suddenly brightens when I see women in their mid 20's dancing with each other, touching each other, waiving around glow-sticks, and probably high as hell off of Ecstasy.

We reach a table in the back of the club where "Jane's" friends are, pornstars that I know all too well. I am never for a loss for words, but I found myself trying to be overly PC around these porn actresses. I mean, I didn't want to say something like "I masturbate to you four times a week", or "The scene with you, the three guys, and the female midget is some of your finest work!" I spent the next few minutes giving out hugs, shaking hands, and getting kissed on the cheek by women who are part of regular viewing habits. The weird thing is, as I thought about all the sexual fluids that all of these women encounter on a daily basis, and the mere fact that I was shaking their hands and being kissed by them, I suddenly became a huge germaphobe. I think I spent 10 minutes washing my hands and wiping myself off with some wet wipes, not one of my finer moments.

I break away from the group and start walking around the club to see what kind of mischief I could get into. I suddenly get ambushed by a chick who looks like Cree Summer from "A Different World" and a couple of her friends who look like they came straight from a ghetto Woodstock or something. She just started dancing with me, dancing totally off beat, the she gave me some Ecstasy. She said, "Go ahead, take it. Take it!!" Looking at her lovely scoops of flesh protruding through her blouse I did what any self respecting man would do. I fake took the pill, actually throwing it in back of me.

I know I looked silly, dancing with a group of girls to music that I absolutely despised while they were waiving glow-sticks, but I felt like less of a dork when I thought about the dirty hippie sex that I might have later so I danced my techno hating ass off. I briefly left the ladies to get some drinks. As I sat at the bar a 60 year old man told me how much he liked my dreads and I quickly thanked him. He said, again, that my dreads were beautiful, so I thanked him again. I momentarily took my scull cap off and he begged me to keep it off because my hair looked "so nice" then he proceeded to stroke my hair. In a outburst of rage I shook him off of me like he was a swarm of bee's and screamed, "Get your motherfucking hands off me!!", scaring the shit out of any nearby patron. The funniest part is that that 60 year old man ran away from me like I had just pointed a gun at him.

I get the drinks and come back to the ladies I was dancing with earlier. Its weird, the ladies talked like Valley Girls and for some strange reason I started talking the same way. I didn't know if it was because i was drunk, or it was my desperate attempt to get a piece of patch, but I really spoke that way. When Andre came by to give me a shot of liquor he made everyone laugh but me when he said, "You don't need to use a fake voice to sound white, just use your natural voice motherfucker!!" I so wanted to make a joke about his girlfriend's vagina having an echo but I decided against it.

I was getting drunk fast, and I think that one of those tree-hugging, PETA loving chicks slipped something in my drink because I suddenly felt "loopy" and had the sudden need to touch people. I return back to the table where the pornstars are and I start giving them massages, and talking absolute shit. This beautiful night at the rave came to an end when some guy was harassing Andre's girlfriend. In my fucked up haze all I saw was Andre arguing with some guy and the guy getting in Andre's face, I was the only person that saw the fear in Andre's eyes. So to save his manhood before he got beat up in front of his lady, I rushed over(actually it felt like slow motion) and punched him as hard as I could in his chest(body blows are physical ways of expressing to someone that they have just fucked up), then I grabbed him by the throat and threw him over the railing.(The railing was only about 8 feet off the ground) **Sidenote**(One of Jane's friends has this incident on video and I really want to put it on my blog but I don't want to incriminate myself. Also, the guy I punched is a famous pornstar in his own right.)

Soon after that we got outta there, but people actually thought I had done the right thing so I didn't feel like a complete asshole. Sometime during that night, without my knowledge, "Jane" had invited the girls that I was dancing with back to the space she was renting. OK, that was awkward but I figured that I would leave at least one of those glow-stick waiving broads unsatisfied. My dreams were quickly darkened when we get back to the apartment and I discover that the women that I was dancing with were lovers, all three of them! At first I thought they were saying that because they didn't like me, but when they started going down on each other right in front of me that was a dead giveaway that they were honest to goodness lesbians.(Fellas, I mentioned something about "joining in" but they weren't having it)

So there I sit, watching three lesbians go at it while "Jane's" fake orgasms from the neighboring bedroom makes their way into my eardrum. Before I could articulate how much "This sucked" I fell asleep pitching a serious tent in my shorts. I must be the only dude that can't get laid at a porn gathering.

Anonymous Douchebag of the Week

The following comment was posted anonymously yesterday in response to a post entitled "The Greatest MC's of All Time"

Anonymous Comment:
"iight 1st off tha nigga before me dat said pac is garbage can suck dick...ight hands down like my man said pac is the best..Pac is ol skool plus new shit put together..but MOST IMPORTANTLY pac is REAL he dont make music for possers, he make music for real niggas, niggas in the projects (like me) niggas who were at one time on welfare niggas who r in jail...if u say pac aint the greatest its either cause u a fronter OR u havent real listen to his music an jus listen to beats, pac aint just a music artist hes deeper then that, he like a spirtual leader, a voice 4 niggas wit no voice, he only speaks da truth, listen to each word in his song carfully, pac asint jus G-up shoot 'em up nigga, he is but he also got a softer side, dat teaches moral in his song, if u wanna really hear some good pac shit dont listen to da mainstream u gotta list to the indergroud hood shit.. like "better dayz" "my block [nitty remix] " "Dear Mama" "brenda got a baby" "str8 ballin" "words of wisdom".."who do u beli ve in" "cradel to the grave" "thug 4 life"..now dat jus aint music dats real gettho gospel
..REPRESENT FAR ROCKAWY NEW YORK, SOUTH SIDE ROCKAWAY HAMMEL HOUSES..FUCK SEASIDE PROJECT NIGGAS HAMMEL PROJECT NIGGA STR8 UP"

HumanityCritic Response
Besides the fact that you express yourself like a incoherent Jackass, and cowardly post anonymously, why do you care who is on my personal list of favorite MC's? This is my blog and I type what the fuck I want, OK scooter? I liked Pac, but he doesn't make my personal top 10, or top 20 for the matter so deal with it. Do I think he was overrated? Hell Yes. I actually liked him better before he got with "Death Row" to be totally honest. Why do people act like you have sinned against God if you don't consider Pac as one of the greatest MC's ever? At the end of the day Tupac couldn't hold Rakim's jockstrap artistically or on a lyrical level, but then again that is my opinion on my motherfucking blog.

HumanityCritic's day in court..

(My time in court yesterday was the main reason why I didn't post about partying with porn stars a week back, but I'll do that tomorrow.)

About a couple of months ago, on a lonely Friday Night, I decided to go to this bullshit bar called "Ched's". "Ched's" is a wack bar that plays the most horrible music imaginable, but so many ladies go there I just show up for the eye candy. Anyway, I get there about 12:30 and have a few drinks. I chit chat with the bouncer, who I only know by name only because I want penetrate his girlfriend in the worst way. Damn she's fine!(focus/focus) Apparently the bouncer(Brian) had a few words with this guy and two of his female friends. It was basically over the fact that they wanted food but it was too late and they gave Brian a lot of shit because of it. Brian , I think, called the women bitches after they called him a few choice expletives.

Apparently, the man who accompanied the two ladies felt that his manhood was in jeopardy and decided to talk shit to Brian. Brian told the gentleman that he had to leave and began to escort him out. The reason I know all of this is because I followed them out, not to get involved, but because I was about to go to another bar down the street. As soon as the patron sets one foot outside the door her tries to hit Brian with a bottle, but misses, hits another guy in the head, and it ricochets against a pool table that I am standing next to. The next couple of minutes I felt no pity for the gentleman as he got his ass beat by Brian and the man he hit with the bottle. I have to tell you, watching someone get their ass beaten when they deserve it is pure poetry.

As soon as the gentlemen in question was getting Adidas and Nike logos forever tattooed into his hind-parts, the police pull up and the scuffle ends.

(Fast Forward to June 1, 2005)

Because I was a witness to the whole thing the cops subpoenaed me to be in court yesterday. I tell you what, reading is fundamental, because the past few months I thought that I would be a witness for Brian but when I actually read the subpoena I was a witness for the cops! I sat there and pondered my new role of being a snitch, but I quickly felt better when I thought of the Chuck D line when he said, "Every brother ain't a brother cause of color" and loudly said "Fuck him!"

Court started at 9:00, but because a judge got into an accident they combined two court schedules together, so Brian and I were there until 2:00. I must say though, along with Church and Weddings, court is a great place to meet women. Also, you find out some pretty interesting stuff sitting there listening to people's problems all day. For example, a beautiful woman was giving a guy head when the cop rolled up. When I heard her address I realized that she lived a block over from me, now that is some useful information if I want a miscellaneous "Mouthhug"!! Also this lovely Cuban woman was accused of beating up a co-worker at a nearby Latin restaurant and she still works there! Guess who will be going in there to get his eat on? Yep, you guessed it.

You also learn the bitter reality of how stupid people are. This woman had just gotten her 6th DUI and said to the Judge, "Sir, I have a drinking problem" Fuck, I didn't need a brain surgeon to figure that one out jackass. One of the cases a woman was going against the SPCA because originally she had brought her dog in there and said that her husband threw her canine against the wall. Now that she realizes that she got her husband in trouble she said, "My words are getting switched around. I did say "Throw" but not like they mean "throw"". How many ways can "throw" be interpreted?

OK, we are finally called but I noticed that the guy that charged the patron with the assault(bottle) isn't there. I realize that we don't have a chance in hell, so I am surprised that the judge went on in the first place. It was me(witness), the cop, and Brian against the patron, his girlfriend, his homegirl, and his momma. Yes, his momma, and this dude has to be around 30 years old. The cop gives his account of what happened, then I give mine, then the patron and his friends begin to systematically lie their fucking ass off. He was saying that he agreed to leave peacefully and that he never threw the bottle. I shook my head and the judge asked me, "Have you got something to say son?" I simply said, "This dude is lying that's all."

After that his mother showed the pictures of her son's wounds after the incident. Apparently he just graduated from college and his eyes were still bloody for his graduation picture. As she showed the pictures to the judge she looked at me and Brian the same way the parent of a murdered child looks at a serial killer. As she showed the picture of her son I shook my head, prompting the Judge to say, "Do you have something else to say son?" Knowing that this asshole was going to be found Not Guilty I said the following: "Your honor, pictures of a abused child after being harmed by their guardian are disturbing pictures. Pictures of a beaten woman after she has been assaulted by her husband are disturbing pictures. But pictures of a grown ass man that got his ass beat after provoking a fight are not disturbing. It was his fault he got the business end of a beatdown. I have to tell the court, if you play with fire you get burned, and as a adult he should have to deal with the consequences. But then again, the mere presence of his mother shows me that he is unable to do that."

People were actually laughing and clapping, I felt like a dread-locked Perry Mason and shit. The judge gave me a quick smirk which made me chuckle. But at the end of the day, because the main guy didn't show up, the judge dismissed it because of lack of evidence. Brian and i walked out after a long day hearing other peoples problems, I was ready to go home and relax. But I noticed that the "patron", his girlfriend, his homegirl, and his mother were laughing in our direction. They were kind of doing a court version of a victory lap, his punk ass was smiling like he was Nino Brown beating a drug rap. Brian wanted to let it go but I said "Fuck that" and approached the glowing foursome.

As I stood in front of them I looked at dude and said the following: "You were found Not Guilty and everything, but at the end of the day you publicly got your ass beat. Not only that, you got beat the fuck up in front of your girlfriend no less, how does that feel exactly?? Shit, she even has to lie to herself about what happened that night just to maintain a thread of respect for your bitch ass." I tap him on the arm and say, "Try not to have your mother fight your battles for you next time tough guy" and walk away. It was wrong but boy did that feel good.

The one that got away...

I know that the last thing that a female wants to be compared to is a fish, so those who are offended just remember that "the one that got away" is just a figure of speech. I have done my fair share of sabotaging relationships in my past but here are a few examples of exemplary women that I let slip through my fingers.

Sara: It seems like it was only yesterday that I first met Sara in one of my college classes a little bit more than a decade ago. We got paired up to do a project and I was in love as soon as I saw her. She was blind, but the didn't stop her from having a sense of humor about it or crushing her thirst for life. That was definitely during a period of my life where monogamy wasn't even in my vocabulary, but I was committed to spending the rest of my life with her. As I remember it she got all of my jokes, when I said that dating her made me feel like Lionel Richie in that "Hello" video she laughed so hard she spit her drink in my face. She was one of a kind, but there always has to be something that throws a monkey wrench in the program. Her parents totally objected and made it clear to me that they didn't like me, I think they even ordered her to stop seeing me. Her father even came to my residence and threatened me with physical violence if I didn't stop seeing her. The mere fact that I didn't paralyze his ass made me realize how much I loved Sara. We stayed together for a little while after that but she was always stressed out and scared that her parents would stop paying for her schooling if she didn't stop seeing me. At the time, because her future was bright and I didn't want her to throw away her future because of me, I thought it was in her best interest that we break up. Tears flowing down her face as she tightly embraced me she said, "You don't have to do this!! It doesn't have to be like this!" Even as I type this I feel that memory carved in my brain forever. I remember going home after breaking up with her and crying like a baby, sobbing while looking at myself at a bathroom mirror. That is one of the few times I have cried over a woman, somehow I don't feel embarrassed admitting that. Looking back, I should of fought for her and not taken the easy way out. For a guy that at one time had no problem fighting three guys during a confrontation, I sure can be a pussy.

Samantha: Sam was a girl that I met through my good friend Janeane. Back when I had aspirations of being a hip hop artist, I would go to New York with Janeane and meet with producers and try to record demos and shit. We used to stay at Janeane's grandmothers house in Newark New Jersey whenever we tried to take on the Big Apple with our dreams of being world famous MC's. Samantha was a friend of Janeane's who I think liked me damn near immediately. She was a beautiful Jamaican girl who, I think, was going to school to be a pilot. I really fumbled the ball on this one. For one thing, when she came down to Virginia to specifically see me I think I saw her once out of the four days she was here. Secondly, when I went to Jersey one time with Janeane I had gotten sick while I was there. Sam nursed me back to health, cooked for me, gave me some sort of Jamaican ginger root remedy, and held me in her arms while I slept.(As I write this I realize that I am one big colossal fuck up) I didn't reciprocate the same emotion towards her and eventually she drifted away.A couple of years ago I asked janeane how Sam was doing and she didn't know and said that she would find out for me. I told her, "I hope she is single, because i really fucked up with that" A day later janeane had informed me that Sam was married and had three kids, Janeane was sure to add "and she is extremely happy" as the final seasoning. To add insult to injury, Janeane told me that Sam wanted to let me know that I will "find someone one day". I know that she meant it in the most positive way imaginable but it felt like salt being poured in a open wound.

Mary: Mary was a born again Christian that I met a friends house years ago. I know its wrong to do, but I figured that because she was a "Jesus freak" that she would be nuttier than squirrel shit but she was totally sane. Mary came from a abusive family, so any type of violence whether it be real or fiction disturbed her greatly. I swear, during the tenure of our relationship I must of seem every romantic comedy and Disney movie that a brother has ever been subjected to. I was doing very well cleaning up my language and suppressing my hunger and need to beat someones ass. The whole thing came to a head when Mary and I was leaving a restaurant one night. Two gentlemen, one of them I barely knew, began to verbally harass us as we walked to the car. They said some shit like "Girl, you need real men like us!" I knew that she was against any type of confrontation so for the first time in my life I shut my mouth and walked to the car. I remember Mary praising me for my restraint as I took her home. As I drove away from her house the mere fact that those two motherfuckers would disrespect me like that got me heated. It was eating away at me like battery acid pour directly on the skin. Becoming enraged, I picked up my boy Mark and we headed directly to the restaurant that Mary and I had just left. We waited outside until the two men had exited the building and beat the shit out of them like they had stolen money from me. As I pounded one of the guys while saying "Why aren't you talking shit now?!!", I look up and see Mary's friend who worked there looking shocked at my violent display. Suffice it to say that when Mary found out she wasn't pleased at all. Basically, our relationship ended when I went back to fight those two men.
(*Side-note* One of the guys I beat up that night is a good friend to me now. Life is funny sometimes)

Yolanda: I met her soon after I got out of a five year relationship so the timing couldn't be better. We were in a sports bar watching the 76ers when they were destined for the NBA finals with Iverson leading the way. From day one I was worthless to her because I had just got destroyed by my ex so I didn't give her the attention she deserved. She had everything, smarts, beauty, love for real hip hop, and she loved sports, what more can you want? But somehow, because I can find a way to "fuck up a free lunch" as Kanye says, I messed this relationship up as well. Its weird though, and I know I can't accurately explain it here but I'll try. It seems that with certain things whether it be in front of a crowd, talking to a woman, or whatever, I have pretty high self esteem. But with certain women I have dated I really think that they would be better off without me, I feel that I would infect them like a cancer and fuck their lives up. It's kind of like my band, let me explain: When people come to one of my band's shows and see how I am on stage, arrogant, brash, cocky, sure of himself, that is one thing. But I always feel weird when I see a fan of our band in a social situation because I would hate for them to be disappointed with the "real" me. (Damn, this post is getting sappy real quick, my bad.) Please excuse the melodrama but I really feel that way. I guess having someone know the real me is a scary predicament I guess. Some would say that my explanation is cowardice, that I should defeat my fears head on, and I wouldn't disagree with those sentiments whatsoever.

Let my Ex Girlfriends Tell It...

Coming home a few weeks ago from practicing with my band, I crashed on the couch and I start watching the John Cusack movie "High Fidelity". Granted I have seen it before but it was late and I knew that nothing else was on the other channels. During the movie, John Cusack's character gets dumped by his girlfriend and he wants to talk to all of his ex's to see where he could have gone wrong, and discuss their past relationships with him. That sparked an idea that I had to contact a few of my ex's and have them break down what their feelings about me are concerning our past relationship. I told each one to email their response to me, to be open and honest, and that I wouldn't respond negatively to what they had to say. Lets just say be careful what you wish for. But hell, I figure that I rip into people on a regular basis, so lets have people who actually know me take shots at me. Lord knows I probably deserve it. All of the following paragraphs are their actual responses, and they all knew that I would post these albeit anonymously. Some of these have been edited, not for content but for length.


Girlfriend A
Current Status: In a committed relationship
"You wanted to know how U were in the relationship? OK. in the beginning you were like a best friend because you would always come around and chill and my entire family loved you because you were all around a nice guy. I thought you were such the nice guy I tried to hook you up with my friends when it was me that secretly wanted you so bad. Then I thought about so hard that you finally came around yeeeeeah. And you were so sweet even though it would be late @ night you would come visit me and we just talk. U WERE NOCTURNAL N*GGA.... But then you turned my world upside down when you became distant for some reason you weren't reaching out to me like before. Still to this day I don't know what it is or what happened. You were very inconsiderate of my feelings. BUT I felt abandoned like when my pops was gone. You were my encouragement my pillar my covering and you just did not come around like that. I understood you were busy and all but I really needed you. All I knew is YOU HURT ME MAN! Then as time went on and i got independent the sun was shining brighter I got myself together and asked you to move with me because i figured that would make us even closer. AND YOU DID AND YOU WERE STILL DISTANT. It never really felt as if you lived there because you were always gone and I could not understand it. YOU WERE Mysterious. If we were in LA I would have called that show CHEATERS on your ass. You would be gone all odd hours in the night (hence your email address (latenightwhatnot) uh huh...... I always thought of you as husband material but the LONER in you made it impossible for us....I felt like you had secrets... And even to this day when I get on the phone with you its like your still my best friend though."

Girlfriend B
Current Status: Engaged
"First of all I can't believe you have me doing this shit but here goes. What can I say, you are the most complex dude I have ever met. I learned one thing from you though, if a guy tells you that he's a jerk he probably isn't lying.LOL You were sweet and considerate in the beginning but your erratic behavior was troubling. You treated me with respect and you would never lay your hand on a woman, but the stuff that came out of your mouth was shocking. Remember when you cursed my dad out for voting and supporting Reagan? Remember when you hit that dude with a chair because he pinched my ass? Remember when you poured a pitcher of beer on a friend of mine because she called you a "low life scum"? Seriously, you are a bright guy with a obvious talent but back then you had serious issues. You had anger management issues, and I really think you have a sexual addiction too.(you will probably edit this part out) I liked feeling wanted but your ass was always trying to dig in me. But you were faithful as far as I know and you kept me laughing. To be honest I thought that you were the biggest asshole that I would ever date but I have been with some guys after you that made you look like a saint."


Girlfriend C
Current Status: Married, two kids
"You were a sweet guy that was considerate, kind, and would do anything for me. You were like 18 right?? You brought me flowers, and we always went out and had a great time. Looking back you were a perfect gentleman, not the bitter ass man you became by reading your blog.(just playing) I truly loved you but I was young and stupid. Like all females who are young and stupid I cheated on you and I have since learned that you were devastated. When you called me to do this it was good to hear from you, but I still feel guilty because of what I did to you. My husband and I laughed when I told him that you said that I had "ruined short lightskin girls" for you for years. I'm sorry honey. Your blog is funny though, you have turned into a very intelligent man. One thing that stick out at me when I broke up with you though. Even though I knew you were hurt, you never let on that it affected you. It was like you didn't want to give me the satisfaction of knowing you were hurt, even a hard ass back then. I am married with a couple of kids, but knowing you don't hate me is a weight off of my shoulders. I know it sounds silly."

Girlfriend D
Current Status: Married, 4 kids
"I finally get a chance to talk about you and you can't respond? OK. There are so many words to describe you and I won't be nice about it. You are a poet, con-man, lover, fighter, genius, thug, saint, bastard, philosopher, incoherent shit talker, sarcastic, wise, belligerent, I could go on. For one thing you think that your opinion is the gospel; and everyone else's' is irrelevant. I would bet good money that 85% of the fights you have been in could have been avoided if you just walked away. Lets get back to the point at hand, you cheated on me and that is what makes you a bastard. But what makes it even worse is that you were such a great bullshitter you had me believing that you were innocent until after our relationship. My best friend saw you with another woman and you had me thinking that she was lying to me. FUCK YOU!! I don't know where these emotions are coming from but you just bring out the worst in some people. You even beat up my brother when he calmly asked you about our relationship!! Asshole! It has been years since we dated, and you seen like a different guy now but that doesn't excuse your behavior man. I should have known you were a loser when you wouldn't let me meet your mom."

(*Ok, I know I said I wouldn't respond but I have to set something straight. Her brother attacked me with a switchblade in a bar one night, that is why he got beat up*)

Public Service Announcement Concerning "Blog Pet Peeves"

Rant of the Day

I know that people can do whatever they want with their blog, and I would never tell somebody what to do. Listen, I have no problems with the owner of a blog making comments on their own post, addressing people and their comments. Hell, I have done that on several occasions. But the one thing that irritates me is when you go to someone's blog and you see that they have like 40 comments on their post. You figure, "Cool, I want to see what people were saying about this particular piece." But when you get there you see that the 32 of the comments were made by the owner of the blog himself/herself. I mean come on, couldn't a handfull of comments addressing people be enough? But then again I would never tell people what to do on their blogs, maybe I should mind my business.

A Complete Idiots Guide to having a Black Friend

I know that I give my republican friend Danny an ample amount of shit concerning his politics and some of his idiosyncrasies, but I have to give him credit today. During the tenure of our friendship he has said some incredibly dumb things, but none of those things had anything to do with race or stereotypes so I appreciate that fact. I know that anybody, black or white, who doesn't have experience being around someone of another race may have certain misconceptions, but for Christs sake it is 2005 man! Through my personal experience of encountering specific idiocy, I created a guide to anyone you know who is racially challenged.

1)Not a compliment Part 1: I can't tell you how many times I have heard, "You are pretty cool for a black guy!". What in the fuck does that mean exactly? So you are telling me that the entire race that I belong to is virtually worthless and I am the only motherfucker that you have ever found cool?? How despicable. Granted, I haven't heard this recently but I heard this a lot as a kid.

2)Not a compliment Part 2: I know Chris Rock covered this but it is so very true, when people say "You are so well spoken!" that has to be the most offensive shit ever. What did you expect to come out of my mouth exactly? Did you think I would carry on like Mush-mouth from Fat Albert and shit?? Thats what happens when people get their concept of what black folks are from music videos.

3)"Talking Black": I have actually had people of other races say "You talk white", which is offensive when it comes out of the mouths of black folks as well. Let me break this down for the black folks that have involved themselves in this idiocy of "talking black" also. OK, Arthur Ashe, to many people of the douchebag variety "talked white", but his activism and his love for black culture made him "blacker" than Jay-Z or any garden variety asshole who you feel is "black" today. Matter of fact, I want to systematically assassinate any black person who involves themselves in this bullshit argument. To measure blackness based on your colloquialism is downright foolishness, and if you do that then your sorry ass better watch less B.E.T

4)My Hair Part 1: How many years have dreadlocks been part of popular culture?? Millions of people know who Bob Marley is right? OK, so why do many people say, "Oh, I absolutely love your braids!!" Stevie Wonder had braids during the 70's, I think that fruity ass Leroy from "Fame" had braids during that show, what I have is not braids goddammit!! But black folks do the same shit, and I hate to be such a hard ass but motherfucker you should know better.

5)My Hair Part 2:(This goes to black folks as well) When did it become OK for a total stranger to come up to you and pull your hair? Never you say? Great, that doesn't give you the license to touch, pull, tug, or stroke someone's hair simply because they have dreadlocks. If you want to feel my hair or touch it, especially if you are a prime piece of ass, simply ask first. But remember, I am not a fucking puppy! I can't tell you how many times I had to curse someone the fuck out simply because they pulled my hair randomly.

6)Blacks hate Bush: Granted, there is a despicable group of black Americans who like Bush, but those are self hating fuckers and they are not to be trusted any way. I can't tell you how many white women I have encountered, that date black men, who are far right wing republicans. I always want to tell them, "You didn't get the memo?? You gotta read that dude's instructional manual, he hates Bush Are you sure you didn't get the handbook?" People can believe in any political Ideology they want, I just find it kind of strange that's all.

7)I am not your bodyguard!: Why do people think that all black folks can fight? The other day, after hearing Danny's Death Metal band perform(torture), we all went to have a few drinks. I sort of know his band-mates, and when they had some words with a drunken patron one of Danny's band-mates said, "We will be OK, HumanityCritic has our back!" What motherfucker?? I barely know you, for all you know I could be a punk. I can't front though Danny does the same thing, he gets what I call "Urban Courage" when I am around but I let it pass because he has actually seen me knock dudes out.

8)Racist Teacher: I know that this doesn't exactly fit on this list so excuse my rant. My old man was absolutely conflicted. He was born in 1937 in Sumter South Carolina, so he saw real racism, not that "I can't get a cab shit" as Chris Rock so eloquently put it. He was witness to "Whites only" establishments and saw people lynched for Christs sake. He was conflicted because he spent 30 years in the Navy and had many great experiences with people of all races, so he battled the bad experiences with the good constantly. There is one lesson that he taught me early on that was pretty much prophetic. When I was in grade school he said, "There will be teachers that will say "HC, you got a C, very good!" and that same teacher will go to another student and say, "Bobby, you got a B, you can do much better". Don't fall for that shit!" I have issues with my old man till this day, but boy was he right.

9)The "N" Word: I wont get into any lengthy analytical discussions about the history of the "N" word or anything, I will just address it very simply. Black folks shouldn't even say the word, but at no point should anyone of any other race ever call me that. The most idiotic argument I hear is, "But why can't I say it?" But my question is, "Motherfucker, why would you want to say it??" All groups call themselves terms of endearment that are only cool in their specific circles, but if someone outside their circle says it then there is trouble. I have two friends, one Mexican and one Puertorican, who call themselves Latin slurs all the time. I know better than to utter the same slurs their way. Two women I know call each other "bitches", but I would never call them that. It is that simple.

10)Idiotic Questions: When someone would ask me something idiotic I used to brush it off and say, "They just don't know better" But goddammit, it's 2005 for Christs sake, no more excuses. If you have to ask a black person "Does your hair get wet?" or "Do you wash your dreadlocks?", something is seriously wrong with you and it makes me want to put on steel toe boots and kick you dead in the motherfucking chest.(I won't harm you though) I was watching 60 Minutes a while back and something disturbed me. You know that old fuck Andy Rooney, who does a editorial at the end of each show, well he said something like "Why do they have to have "B.E.T"? Why do they have to have a "Miss Black America"? If white people had these things Jesse Jackson and every black group would cause a fuss" Mr. Rooney, let me first say "Fuck you"! That being said, what about the years where black folks were excluded from programming altogether, or the vast amount of stations that don't represent black folks as a whole. I object to B.E.T's programming, but to bitch about the name of said network is pretty idiotic.

Vomiting for Distance

I went to a party that my college friend Terry was throwing. He usually throws the best parties because he has the best food, free liquor is always nice, and his wife is a self described "ex slut" so her friends that attend his functions look like they just came from a lil John video shoot. As I hung out with some old friends, drinking and discussing old times, I met a nice a nice woman named Anna. Anna was upset that her husband was cheating on her and she discussed a desire to get even with him. I quickly got the hint that she wanted to get to know me "biblically" to get even with her husband, and she was fine so I was flattered. Even though the thought of "waxing that ass like Rain Dance"(as Ice Cube put it) crossed my mind, I declined because having sex with a married woman might fuck up my Karma meter even more.

I guess since getting miscellaneous penis was out of the question, Anna proceeded in drinking like a fish, throwing back shot after shot. I told her to slow down but she ignored my warnings and kept on drinking. After a while she was stumbling everywhere, and as I tried to help her she screamed "I'm about to throw up!!" I rushed her to the bathroom, and when she was about 3 feet from the toilet vomit shot out of her mouth like a ghetto-weave wearing version of the exorcist. As I held her head and noticed the hair tracks in my fingers while she was throwing up, and I saw that she apparently had corn sometime that evening, I thought about the embarrassing times that I lost my lunch.(Side-note to that story* After she vomited she still wanted me to go home with her, after I saw the contents of her stomach laying in a toilet.)

Me and my Cousin: Me and my cousin had the best relationship, he was clearly like a second brother to me. We would get into all types of immature mischief on a regular basis, like throwing eggs at pedestrians, we would act a fool in the mall until one person would be embarrassed, and we used to throw baggies filled with lotion on the windshield of our buddies car just for laughs while we were driving.(See, it is a persons natural reaction to put on their wipers whenever anything hits their windshield. Well, if you do that with lotion then your entire windshield is covered and you can't see shit. I know, very dangerous) Anyway, we had got the bright idea to see if we could drink two 40 oz's a piece one night. We chilled in my room, threw back the 40's and listened to some hip hop. I noticed that my cousin had stopped after the first 40 which was a smart move. Even though I wasn't the drinker that I am today, I downed both 40's like I said I would. The funny thing about that night is that I audio-taped the entire episode, us getting drunk and acting absolutely silly. Do you know what else is on that audiotape?? Me throwing up, screaming "Brendan, I need your help! I keep throwing up!" He was knocked out as I threw up for 15 minutes, finally falling asleep on the toilet. I woke up with my face flush, my eyes bloody red, and my t-shirt that I had thrown up on was filled with holes because of the stomach acids that ate through that motherfucker. Somewhere I have a tape of that whole debacle, that I will actually share if I can find it.

Buddy: My boy Buddy was a professional drinker and that is a compliment. One night we had went to a club together where we had drink after drink. After a while my mouth started to water, which is a sign that vomiting was around the corner if I continued drinking, so I promptly stopped to save the embarrassment. The Buddy got into a altercation with some jackass, so when his boy tried to sucker punch Buddy I stopped that dead in its tracks and punched the shit out of dude. That physical activity almost made me upchuck, but I held it back. "That was close", I thought as I figured that I avoided throwing up. Then I go to use the bathroom and Buddy is in there washing his hands. We are talking about something, and mid-sentence he says "Excuse me critic", throws up in the sink, and then continues talking like nothing happened. The smell of his vomit pushed me over the edge and I threw up all over myself. The smell was horrendous, so much in fact that Buddy made me throw my shirt away and sit my black ass in the back of his truck. It was embarrassing, but I understand. Rest in Peace Buddy.

My Breakfast in Bed: I had dated a chick named Carla for a few months a few years back. Carla was cool, one of the first girls that I seriously thought about getting married to. I'm not going to lie, I like to drink, but Carla had a alcoholic father that was abusive so she detested alcohol on every level. I am not the one to change for a girl, but for some reason I hid the fact that I drank around her. I figured that not drinking isn't a bad thing, so it was a win-win situation at the end of the day. I was the perfect gentleman with Carla, we hadn't had sex yet but after a while a brother had smurf nuts so something had to give. So a night that I wasn't with Carla I was hanging with Danny, getting shit-faced as usual. I had no plans to see Carla, so I figured it was safe to have a few too many. I stumble in the house and as soon as I sit down Carla calls me. She informs me that she wants me to come over for a little "latenightwhatnot"(yes, that is also my email Addy) so I brush my teeth, damn near drink some Listerine, and head over there. When I got there we had sex, and since liquor is ghetto Viagra, I was in rare form that night. We both fall asleep and that was that, right? Wrong! Apparently I had thrown up on myself while I was asleep, I know this because I woke up to a beautiful woman screaming "Oh NO, you motherfucker!! Get your ass out, NOW!!!" How embarrassing, but I gathered my shit and began to leave. The fucked up part is that she was wearing some tiny ass drawls and a tight ass t-shirt, I noticed her "ensemble" as she slammed the door on my face.

Track Practice: Do you know what is worse than throwing up when you are drunk? Throwing up due to physical exhaustion, that's the worse. When I was in high school I ran the 100m Dash, the 200, 400 meter relay, long jump, and triple jump. I used to love going to track meets, doing well, seeing the thoroughbred legs of female sprinters, and flirting with girls who attended the track meets. The part that I used to dread was at the beginning of the season when you had to get in shape. My track coach would run us to death, we would have to run a few miles at a time, and if you didn't run the 400m in a particular time he would make you do it until he was satisfied. No one ever attended our track practices but for some reason, only god knows why, the girl that I had a crush on named Wendy sat in the stands as we worked out. She came to the toughest practice that we had that year, as my coach made us pull his hillbilly ass in a god-damed sled for about a half hour.(Even though my coach wasn't racist, but now you couldn't pay me to get harnessed and pull a white man around as he curses at me. I guess watching "Roots" had a definite impact) The workout was making me nauseous, and I told my coach that I was about to throw up. I guess being a track coach for 30 years and hearing every excuse in the book to get out of a workout had hardened him, so he assumed I was full of shit. A few minutes later, with Wendy looking on, the cheer-leading squad practicing nearby, and the women soccer team running on the same track, I threw up the entire contents of my stomach. Chocolate Milk, chicken Patty, french fries, whatever the fuck I had for lunch that day. To add insult to injury, I could hear Wendy laughing when my coach said, "When you get done throwing up, clean that shit up and come back to practice. You have a few more miles to do!"

There has to be someone more qualified??

What is up with Bush's appointees and Republicans in general? Recently it came out that Dr. W. David Hager, a obstetrician-gynecologist and Bush Administration appointee to the Advisory Committee for Reproductive Health Drugs in the Food and Drug Administration (FDA), was accused by his ex-wife Linda Davis, that between the years of 1995 and 2002, Hager repeatedly sodomized her without her consent. This is a Bush Appointee and he is committing Marital Rape, that's a felony motherfucker. Bill Maher had a funny quote, he said, "Great. A vagina doctor who can't find a vagina."

Spokane, Washington state’s Republican mayor, Jim West, has been a strong opponent of gay rights and someone who saw government as an arbiter of private sexual behavior. He has tried to ban gay men and women from working in day-care centers and some state agencies and proposed a bizarre law that would have criminalized sex between underage youths. But it came out that this motherfucker is a closeted gay man who frequently logged on to "gay.com" to specifically meet young men. Why is it always the most homophobic scum that turn out to be the biggest queens?

The appointment of Alberto Gonzalez is another one. When he was Governor Bush's counsel in Texas, Gonzales also reviewed all clemency requests. It is said that Gonzales gave insufficient counsel, failed to take into consideration many factors concerning the defendants, and actively worked against clemency in a number of borderline cases. (The state of Texas executed more prisoners during Gonzales' term, and still has more prisoners on death row, than any other state.) It can be said that innocent men died during Gonzalez's tenure as Bush's counsel. This is a guy we want as our Attorney General??