Turn off that MotherF#%cking Radio!

The other morning I had to meet people concerning a writing gig I was offered, the problem was that the car ride to meet these gentlemen would be over an hour long. I hopped in my car and headed toward my destination. As I was driving, eating a sandwich, and rifling through my CD's(yes I am a multi-tasker) I come to the realization that I haven't heard the radio in a while. I actually sat there, knowing that the radio is 95% bullshit, trying to decide if I should give the public airways a chance and listen for a while. "Fuck it", I figured as I pressed the radio button on my CD player.

I turned to the most popular urban station in the city and the first thing I hear is a morning radio show, with a DJ that I respect. I respect him because he has been at that station for a long time, and I know that he loves "Real" Hip Hop. About 4 minutes into the show a sudden rush of sadness hits me, not because Rosario Dawson never returns my love letters, but because I realize that a good DJ who loves Hip Hop at its purest form is forced to play the most mindless drivel imaginable. Frustrated, I turn the channel to a popular local 80's pop station. Me, being a child of the 80's, have no qualms in expressing the fact that I know songs by Culture Club, Flock of Seagulls, Wham!, and Duran Duran verbatim. Suddenly Billy Idol's "Rebel Yell" comes on and I barely mouth the words to myself. The next thing I know I am screaming the lyrics as I sat in traffic, looking over and seeing two 30-something aged sisters looking at me like I had lost my damn mind. Usually, when a near-by driver catches me doing something that most people would find embarrassing(i.e Singing, picking my nose), instead of stopping what I am doing I turn to them and do exactly what they "caught" me doing in their direction. I guess a dreadlocked man singing a mid-80's rock hit is scary to other African Americans, so they rolled up their windows and looked forward.

I flip through the channels some more and briefly listen to the new Mariah Carey song. As I listen to it something ironic about it slapped me in the face. Does anybody find irony in the fact that her love interest in her video, an actor named Wentworth Miller, played in a movie called "The Human Stain" where he went his entire life denying he was black, passing off as white?(He was the Anthony Hopkins character as a young man)Is it just me or am I overanalyzing as usual? As I am thinking about Mariah Carey and the post where I ficticiously "dated her", I attempt to change lanes and almost hit a motorist in a brand new Lexus. Knowing it was my fault I motion as to say, "My bad" but the guy gives me the finger and starts talking absolute shit. I ignore him at first until he yells something about "beating my ass", then I pull up beside him and say something embarrassingly masculine like "You aren't built like that homey, Shut your fucking mouth!"

Road rage issues aside, I reach down and turn the channel to another urban station, this one not as popular as the first one I tried. Apparently Missy Elliot has a new song out, not to hate but doesn't all her shit sound the same? I mean, I know she is from my same area and I am truly proud of her success, but it seems that she has the same formula each album.(Dance track, subpar rapping, old school sample) I turn back to another urban station, and for some reason I sit through two wildly unimaginative R&B songs. What happened to R&B? Back in the day you had real men like Otis Redding, Isaac Hayes, and Stevie Wonder belting out harmonious tunes to make women relieve themselves of any undergarments that they were wearing. Shit, even not so manly men like Prince and Rick James were acceptable because we all knew that they were going home with someone's girl after one of their concerts. Now, it is a bunch of whiny ass pretty boys talking about how they will "steal your girlfriend". I wish one of those newschool R&B clowns would approach my girl with that shit, my mouth would water like pavlov's dog right before I systematically beat the brakes off of them and snatch the gaudy ass jewelry off of their necks.

I am a few miles from my destination and I am frustrated for a few reasons. 1: I realize that I must be masochistic to listen to the radio knowing how much bullshit comes out of it. 2. Why won't Rosario return any of my letters? Do you think me sending her a lock of my hair was a bit much? 3. The men who I am meeting sure were kissing my ass over the phone. They claim they liked my blog and everything, but they sounded like car salesmen to me and that made me suddenly feel uncomfortable.

Driving around lost I let a few rap songs play without turning them off immediately, which makes piss poor navigation skills even a bigger burden. I suddenly get the bright idea to have t-shirts made up saying, "I don't give a fat baby's ass who Mike Jones is!!", I think that they would sell. I know that Hip Hop will never die, but could we just fake it's death and put her in a witness protection service so she could start over? I flip back and forth through the stations for the last time, and I finally figure out that most radio stations play the same 6 songs all day!! I'm not crazy, I swear, but I look down at my CD's and it was like they were speaking to me, saying, "You could have just played us man, and avoided all that foolishness." I start to answer them back, but my black ass has enough problems, I don't need to start talking to inanimate objects.

I reach the office of the two men who "like my writing so much" and I am greeted by their beautiful receptionist. At least I think she was beautiful, since my eyes were fixed on her cleavage that probably measured about a country mile. She went on and on about how she "liked my blog", and how "talented I am" so I thanked her for her kind words. I asked her, "Which post is your favorite?", then she gave me a blank stare and said "All of them!" Her ass didn't read my blog which just underlined the fact that these guys were trying to blow smoke up my ass. I was led into their office, and before they could get a word out I said, "Are you guys full of shit or what? I had to endure the horror of listening to the radio while driving in my car for an hour. Plus, you made your receptionist lie and say that she "liked my blog", you fuckers better be legit!" Nothing gets you more mad then when someone laughs at your impromptu rage. They said, "That is exactly the energy we want! We would love for you to write for us!"

For the next several moments I sat with them and talked about writing, my life, and other random topics. Things look good for my future writing venture, but if I make that long trek again you better believe that I will play nothing but CD's. Fuck the Radio!

Interesting People I know..

I was having a conversation with a friend of mine where she expressed disgust concerning all the weird people in her life. That got me thinking about all the strange but interesting people in my life. Instead of being disgusted, I am kind of intrigued at what makes these people tick. Instead of deleting these people from my life simply because of their idiosyncrasies, I'd rather keep these interesting people in my life, as long as I am out of harms way. Here are a few people in my life that walk to the beat of their own drummer, and that's a understatement. If you have any "interesting people" in your life, by all means comment on it.

Keith: Keith is a guy who was a surrogate older brother to all of my close friends when we were kids. We all looked up to Keith being that he was about 4 years older than us, and being that he was a professional skateboarder was the coolest thing in the world to my group of friends. He would show us tricks, and encourage us like most mentors do. Sounds like a touching, heartwarming story right? Not quite. Fast forward 17 years and Keith is basically the same guy, seriously. I see him in local bars occasionally and his main topic of conversation is skateboarding. I have tried to purposely shift the conversation to something totally different but someway it segues into skating. Talk about the weather, he says how nice it is to go skateboarding. Discuss politics, it somehow becomes a conversation on the politics of skateboarding and the police harassment of said skateboarders. Keith had a cookout at his house and when I arrived there he had a half-pipe(skateboard ramp) in his living room where we skated the majority of the time.(Granted, I skated it, was in a skate video that he was filming, and had a great time. That's beside the point) His passion is obsessive, but also it is kind of inspiring. To love something so much where a considerable amount of time is spent thinking about it is really the "love of your life".

Mitch: Mitch is a dude that I ran with as a teenager, certifiable crazy son of a bitch. Mitch was into magic, and he was a great pick-pocket. We used to hang out and go to the mall, and this motherfucker used to have at least 15 wallets on him that he had just lifted from some unsuspecting customer. Being that he was knee deep in criminality, it surprised me when he informed me that he was becoming a police officer a few years back. I thought maybe he had turned his life around and decided to be a law abiding officer, getting rid of the filth on my city's "mean streets". One conversation ruined that image completely, as I learned from Mitch that he had to be one of the the dirtiest cops in my city. He apparently takes bribes from certain drug dealers and he also looks the other way when it comes to prostitution. He has told me stories where he let a hooker go if she "serviced" him that night. I have warned him about his behavior, but when I do he kind of looks through me and gives me phony nods of agreement. Another interesting tidbit about Mitch: His cousin had gotten killed in a drug related incident and the suspect was still on the run. A week later the suspect was found in a alley, with 14 shots buried inside him. Not saying that Mitch did it, but it makes you wonder.

Lucy: Lucy is a Mexican American woman raised somewhere in California. She is beautiful, but by her demeanor and her rough mannerisms you can tell that she has had hard times in her life. Lucy was part of a girl gang in L.A where she has had several family members killed, and she has been in and out of prison. I can't tell you how many times Lucy has told me, while we were sitting at a bar, how it feels to "kill somebody". She is strictly a "bar friend", but her stories about death and gang life are kind of scary, but at the same time interesting. I made the mistake of giving her my number because how she stated that she didn't have many friends. Boy, was that a mistake. She would call me like 3 in the morning, drunk, talking about how fucked up her life was, crying and whatnot. I saw her and she told me that she was interested in me, but I turned her down simply by saying, "You have been in prison, been in a gang, and the other day you "drunk" called me. I'm not trying to be the "girl" in this relationship." She laughed, and about 5 minutes later she had pulled a knife on some chick that looked at her funny. That's my Lucy!

Jake: Jake is a Vietnam veteran on some bona fide "Rambo" shit. The guy has received several medals based on his heroism and his leadership during his time in battle. I have to admit, I want to be in good shape at 57 years old as he is, the guy is solid as a rock. I met John because he is a bounty hunter, and since the asshole who killed my boy Buddy is still out there somewhere I felt the need to get some assistance. I know I should contact Buddy's family, and that I am going about it the wrong way, but I just want to honor my dear friend because I feel he would do the same for me. When I first met John he was telling me about all this cool surveillance equipment, phone tapping tools, and his "top 10" ways he finds a "perp". He is so committed to his job that before physically I met him he had found out information on the guy that killed my friend, from his medical history, the name of his girlfriend and his close friends, and he put a running tap on his mother's phone. I was impressed. His commitment was impressive, obsessive but also impressive. We are becoming fast friends, and he digs my sense of humor, until I suggested that I should call him "Magnum P.I" and that he call me "T.C."(For all you Magnum P.I fans out there) I guess his humor stops at me comparing him to Tom Selleck, go figure. But the best part is that he said I could go with him when he picks that asshole up, so I will be documenting that whole ordeal on this blog. Stay tuned.

Dating Tips from a Guy who is monumentally bad at it.

You read the title correctly, it says "..from a guy who is monumentally bad at it", your eyes aren't deceiving you. I'll put it like this, there are plenty of dating experts who want to give you the "sure fire" steps to dating so you will be successfull. The problem with that is that those experts are usually very attractive, so attractive that they could walk up to somebody, goosestepping, and reading Adolf Hitlers "Mien Kampf" and still get a date. Those bastards aren't to be trusted, so why don't you look at your boy the HumanityCritic to give you some rogue-like advice. I figure that learning from my mistakes is the best way to gain the advantage in this rough dating world.

1. A Girls best friend: Even though a guy's best friend plays a integral part, it isn't the same as a girls best friend. A buddy can tell me "how much he doesn't like my girlfriend", and that "she is all wrong for me", but if her ass is good in bed, doesn't cheat, and makes a great sandwich, his stupid ass will get ignored with a quickness. It is my personal experience that women put more stock in their best friend's opinion than men do. When you meet the "best friend" just remember that you are basically auditioning, so act natural. If you ignore her friend completely then you will blow it. If you show her too much attention she will think you are phony, and you will still blow it. Also, be aware that everything you do will be monitored like you have been spied on by a security camera. Her silly ass will notice if you pay the bill or not, pull the chair for your date, interrupt alot, you name it her friend is checking it out.

Don't make my mistake: One time I was on a date where we were going to meet one of her friends. We get to the bar where her friend is at and we had a pretty good time, that is until the "friend" got drunk. She started telling me "how I wasn't right for her", and that "she could do better." I sat through that barrage for minutes, just excusing the fact that she was drunk. Then I couldn't take anymore and I think I called her a dirty whore, or something like that, and told her if she said another word that I was going to pour a pitcher of beer on her. Lets just say that that act of defiance didn't endear me to my date that night. In hindsight I should of just rode out the abuse for some effort-free sex from my date that night.

2. Eyes on the Prize: Maybe because I am observant, or I am looking out for some dude that I previously knocked out to even the score, but my eyes tend to wander whenever I am on a date. I really don't check out other chicks because I know how rude that is, but the woman I am with doesn't buy the whole "I am just observant" rant. Fellas, nothing will deny you a second date faster than a guy who can't keep his eyes from wandering around the room.

Don't make my mistake. I was out with a woman one time on a very nice date at a upscale restaurant. It was kind of uptight for my taste but I thought I would ignore my tree-hugging sensibilities and just enjoy myself. I remember laughing with my date about the people in attendance because of the way they acted. You had women wearing fur coats in the dead of summer, and they were laced with expensive jewelery like they were going to the academy awards or something. I never thought my eyes would wander to another woman that night, that is until this sister comes walking in with a tight red dress. I mean, you could see every dimension of her body, and dirty thoughts filled my mind. I guess my mouth was wide open, because my date had to not only call my name 4 times, but physically slap the shit out of me. For some reason, from that point on, we didn't laugh and joke the same way we were earlier that night.

3. Sex on the first date: Ladies, simply, don't do it. That is my advice to you. I know you want to be "I am woman hear me roar" and shit, but the simple fact is that if you gave it to me on the first night your status might get bumped down from "Wifey" to "Booty-call". I know, there are evil double standards out there but I guess that's life.(Hey, on average women live longer than men so stop bitching) Men, on the other hand, if a woman offers it on the first night, by all means get yourself a piece of patch. Listen, I had a friend tell me, "HC, she wanted to have sex the first night but I didn't want her to feel like a slut for giving it up on the first night." What the fuck? She already offered you the meal, just because your ass didn't eat doesn't mean that she didn't cook it.

Don't make my mistake(which I am still making): Assuming that a woman is as loose as Vanessa Del Rio's bed-springs just because she gave it up on the first night is foolish. OK, on average she probably is, but to generalize is always dangerous. I went out with a woman who was an artist, brilliant, and a lot of fun. We went out on our first date, and right after said date I was looking at the beautiful paintings she had painted on her ceiling, as she moaned between my intoxicated thrusts. I made the mistake of treating her like a glorified "booty-call" after that and she had so much more to give. Her words keep ringing in my head till this day, "I should have never fucked you on the first night!"

4. Try not to get shitfaced: If you are a alcoholic, try to keep that shit secret until the 5th date. Nothing will make your date more uneasy on a first date than a guy who is arguing with other patrons, and throwing up on her sexy new dress that she wore that night. I always tell people to drink whatever gets you "tipsy", not drunk. If 4 beers and 4 rum and cokes gets you pissy, then try to drink 3 beers and one rum and coke, you get the picture. Also, I have yet see anyone get more attractive when they are drunk, so think about that if you want to see the inside of her apartment later on.

Don't make my mistake: I have been in fights while I have been drunk, but for the most part I am a pretty happy and jovial drunk. I also like to talk alot, which was my ultimate downfall in the following situation. I was on a date with a particular young lady and I got shitfaced. So Shitfaced that I began telling her how my "ex-girlfriend was a bitch" and "how I cheated on her." Then I told her how she had "baby making hips" and that I wanted to give her a pearl necklace in the worst way.(Not the kind you get from your local jeweler) Let's just say that my number was taken off of her speed dial after that.

5. Fellas, Girls really do like assholes: Not all girls like assholes, and I know that the wonderful women who read my blog probably don't, but many women do. I don't even mean to say that "women like assholes" as it being a good thing, it is kind of sad actually. I speak from experience because I couldn't tell you how much women like the fact that I am a insufferable prick. I have actually told women to stay away from me, that I am a asshole, and that I might end up fucking their life up. The usual response is, "You're funny, here's my number." This one time I was with Danny and I was cursing out the bartender because of something he said to me. Moments later I realized that I had misunderstood him and was about to apologize, but this girl liked how I "handled myself" and wanted to know if I would call her. She just heard me call a grown man belittling names and she finds that attractive?? What the fuck?!! Ladies, if a guy tells you he is bad news it is probably good advice to listen to him.

Inside the Actors Studio

(Opening Credits begin, theme music playing while they show pictures of actors who have previously been on the show.)

(Camera pans in on a seated James Lipton)

James Lipton: Tonight Ladies and Gentlemen, in the first time in The Acting Schools History, we will be exploring the life and blog career of a young man named HumanityCritic. He has been blogging since September 2004, and in that time he has made people love him, hate him, and he has even gotten death threats. We at the acting school had to have him on, besides, he slid me a few bucks to be here so a little extra loot in a brother's pocket never hurt. I introduce to you, the HumanityCritic.

(Crowd applauds)

(HumanityCritic emerges from backstage, with both of his hands raised in the air for victory. The ladies in attendance start throwing underwear, which excited HC, but he freaks out when one particular pair lands on his face)

HumanityCritic: Eww Gross.(The next several minutes is spent with HumanityCritic wiping him self with handiwipes)

(HumanityCritic finally sits down)

James Lipton: What kind of pimp does that??

HumanityCritic: The kind that is a germaphobe, get on with questions jackass!

James Lipton: It says here that you were born in Hawaii on August 31st, 1973. You have two older siblings, both 10 and 11 years your senior. How was it being the youngest child?

HumanityCritic: I thought we were going to talk about my blog?? Ok, it was fine. I love my siblings dearly, but being the "little brother" can suck because you always struggle to get your voice to be heard. I think that one of the many reasons why I am so "in your face" is from that desire to be heard as a child.

James Lipton: Interesting..What does the song "Mr. Big Stuff" mean to you??

HumanityCritic: Hee-hee. My mother said when I was a baby that every time that Jean Knight song came on that I would start dancing around wildly, smiling from ear to ear. The embarrassing part is that to this day my mother will randomly hold my hands like a baby and scream out "Mista' Big Stuff, who do you think you are!! Mista Big Stuff." The main reason I don't think I will ever get married is because my mother said that she would do that in front of my future wife. She also said, by the way, that she will tell my future wife that I used to be a "titty baby"! Yep, I'm never getting married.

James Lipton: Damn, Freud would have a field day with you. I say that because in your blog you have expressed a certain affinity for titties and..

HumanityCritic: Lets move this shit along shall we!!

James Lipton: The next thing I wanted to ask you is..(a production assistant whispers something in Mr. Lipton's ear. He gets up, says "Excuse me", and leaves the stage momentarily)

(HumanityCritic grabs James Lipton's question sheet, begins scribbling something on it, and quickly sets it back down on the desk)

(James Lipton returns)

James Lipton: OK, my bad. Where were we?(looking down at his question sheet) HumanityCritic, how does it feel to have a twelve inch penis?? Hey!! This isn't one of my questions!!

HumanityCritic: Ha-ha Just giving you a little shit Jimmy baby!

James Lipton: It says here that after you were born your family moved to Philadelphia. Then, in 1979, where did your family move to??

HumanityCritic:(stands up out of his chair, pumps his fist and says) Virginia Beach, Virginia Baby, represent!!

(crowd erupts. All you see is 20-something acting students, taking off their sweaters to expose t-shirts saying "Virginia is for lover's" on them)

HumanityCritic: That's what I'm talking about!!

James Lipton: Will you sit your black ass down!! Jesus man.

HumanityCritic: OK, OK. Damn you are touchy today!

James Lipton: Lets get to your blog. On October 8th 2004, you wrote an interesting piece that not only involved politics but it also involved Hip hop culture. In it you had yourself challenging George Bush to a freestyle battle in front of the White House. That piece was called 'Live from the White House: Rap Battle: Bush vs. the HumanityCritic"

(crowd applauds, HumanityCritic smiles in acknowledgment)

James Lipton: Is it true that you got death threats in your email when you posted anything anti-Bush

HumanityCritic: Yes, that's true.

James Lipton: Wow! A very interesting piece that I liked was your April 20th post where you wrote a fictitious future account of your past love life entitled "HumanityCritic's tell all Autobiography(Circa 2033)" (crowd applauds) I mean, I wish that I could bend Mariah Carey over also.. I bet she tastes like pure heaven!

HumanityCritic: Hey-Hey!! That's too much goddamn information Jim!

Jams Lipton: Excuse me, I just want to give Mariah a serious mustache ride. Know what I mean Critic??

HumanityCritic: I get it, I get it. lets move on..

James Lipton: OK.. HumanityCritic is the first person that has been on this stage, that has had something that he published actually used in High Schools across America. This particular piece, on a personal level, is important because it stopped me from calling my black friends "Dawg" and asking them ignorant questions. This piece, written on May 25th, 2005 is entitled "A complete Idiots Guide to having a Black Friend"

(Crowd gives HC a standing ovation)

HumanityCritic: You guys liked that shit? If yall actually knew that I wrote that over a stripper named Cinnamon's house after a night of heavy drinking, while sitting in a sea of one dollar bills that she had made the previous night that were on her bed, you wouldn't be that impressed. But thank you all.

James Lipton: I have also noticed that a running theme in your blog is Hip Hop, is that correct?

HumanityCritic: You bet your sweet ass Jim.

James Lipton: You have talked about your favorite groups, favorite male MC's and Female MC'S, and the wackest MC'S. Your love for Hip Hop is inspiring.

HumanityCritic: Thanks..

James Lipton: This part of the show, is where I ask the guest 10 questions which originated from my hero Bernard Pivot. HumanityCritic, what is your favorite word?

HumanityCritic: Titties..

James Lipton: What is your least favorite word?

HumanityCritic: Shaq

James Lipton: What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally?

HumanityCritic: The small of a woman's back, hot dirty sex, or playing a Sade album

James Lipton: What turns you off?

HumanityCritic: That would have to be either racism, or women that don't give head.

James Lipton: What is your favorite curse word?

HumanityCritic: Unequivocally, it would have to be "Motherfucker!" (crowd laughs) Let me explain how I say it. I don't ever call someone "Muthafucka'" because I don't want them to ever think i was using it as a term of endearment. My black ass says "Motherfucker", "er" and all, so you know that I mean it in a negative way.

James Lipton: What sound or noise do you love?

HumanityCritic: A Pete Rock bassline, or a DJ premier beat. Oh, my mothers voice, I love her so much.

James Lipton: What sound or noise do you hate?

HumanityCritic: George Bush rambling, Bill O'Reilly being a douche.. I can't forget car horns!

James Lipton: What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?

HumanityCritic: A lawyer, I would love to help people who couldn't afford proper counsel. Or a porn star, but I don't think people would be interested in 2 minute porn movies though.

James Lipton: What profession would you not like to do?

HumanityCritic: I would hate to be a entertainment reporter, or work at Entertainment Tonight. I mean, who gives a fuck about Britney being pregnant or who Tom Cruise is fucking? I don't give a shit! Or, I would hate to be the guy who mops up porn theaters. That shit is disgusting man.

James Lipton: If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?

HumanityCritic: I think God would say, "HumanityCritic, when I made you I broke the mold son!! Hey, Aliyah and Left Eye have been waiting for you dude, and they are getting a little frisky.. If you know what I mean.."

James Lipton: We know exactly what you mean! HumanityCritic, your students..

(Next you see HumanityCritic seated in front of the students. They begin to ask him questions)

Female Student: Hello HumanityCritic. I'm not trying to be mean, but this month alone we had Jude Law, Johnny Depp, and Robert DeNiro come here. I don't understand why people are clapping, who gives a shit about your silly ass and your stupid blog?

HumanityCritic: Sit your ass down Harlot! Next Question.

Random female student: Yes HumanityCritic, I liked that Coffee-shop post by the way.

HumanityCritic: Thanks.

Random Female Student: Do you think that people who read your blog, will think that you are an arrogant asshole, because you have just had an entire fictitious post where you give praise to your own work? Don't you think you will look like a douchebag?

HumanityCritic:(stares off into space, then suddenly tears off his microphone and runs off stage)

(crowd applauds)

(closing credits)

Welcome Back Phil!

I forgot which comedy special it was, but Chris Rock was talking about the lack of legitimate black leaders we have today. He had suggested that black folks follow Pat Riley, because he has led more black men to the "promise-land" than anyone else.(Hinting at the amount of championships he won) It was a funny diatribe, but to be specific no other coach beside red Aurback has led more black men to the "promise-land" than Phil Jackson. Listen, if you read this blog for three seconds a few things come abundantly clear. 1.I love titties 2.I love Hip Hop 3. I am a Laker's fan 4. I am a Kobe Bryant apologist

Yesterday Phil Jackson returned to my LA Lakers after a tumultuous relationship with Kobe which caused his departure a year earlier. I am happy that Jackson is back, but I have no idea how Kobe and Phil can co-exist after Phil wrote a book basically calling Kobe the anti-Christ. Shit, beggars can't be choosers I guess, anything to make the Lakers better. When Shaq was asked if he could ever have a conversation with Kobe, Shaq gave the usual, monosyllabic inbred response. "Huh? Who's Kobe? That name doesn't sound familiar to me." Very mature big guy, it is good to get daily reminders of how much of a douchebag you are. Thanks.

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.