Living with Hip Hop OCD(Vibe Throwback)

Last week, I was attending the funeral of my friend's fathe(estranged) Despite all the teeth gnashing niceties and the oratorical jujitsu displayed by everyone who got up to speak, there was a common theme to all of their remarks that overcast day - that the man laying in the pine box just a few feet away was an insufferable prick. As I uncomfortably sat in my monkey suit witnessing his children try to spin his outright abandonment into him having tunnel vision career-wise, and the first wife of the dearly departed tearfully crafting his years of heart-wrenching adultery into the fact that he'd always had the "soul of a 25 year old" - I suddenly started to wonder what would the common theme unifying the speakers at my funeral would be? Listen, I've embraced my inner asshole a long time ago, so much in fact that my loved ones have long referred to me by that special orifice my ex-girlfriend told me was only reserved for our wedding night. Joking about something so obvious at my funeral or wake isn't exactly comedic gold. But if forced to guess, I'm pretty sure that my impatience would be a common point of reference as I sport a fashionable black suit that unfortunately highlights my new pasty complexion. I'm not sure who will say what, but I can envision some random ex-girlfriend finding a tasteful way of describing my nonexistent foreplay, and my habit of whispering "Shhh, you just ruin it by speaking.." every time she mistakenly took it upon herself to inject sexy pillow talk into the equation. Maybe my friend Danny will tell the story about how I almost got pummeled Rodney King style by one of Virginia Beach's finest for simply giving him the universal "hurry up" signal while saying "Wrap it up Serpico, I have places to go!" as he attempted to lecture me on the dangers of speeding. My penchant for begrudgingly rewarding old ladies with free groceries every time I see one of them very casually pour a million and one fucking pennies in front of an underpaid cashier, and the time a bank manager angrily read me the riot act after I tried to fake a disability(walking cane and all) just so I could cash my check ahead of everyone else - all displays of my impatience that will momentarily lift the spirits of all the mourners within earshot.

But unfortunately, one unknown fact about me that the black wearing sea of mourners will fail to learn on that fateful day is that I have historically shown an infinite amount of patience in one area in particular - when dealing with people who have speech impediments and other garden variety disorders. As a kid I had a crippling stutter, so I know how it feels to see people get physically frustrated while you struggle with words, sometimes those same people attempting to finish your sentences as if they were doing you some great service. So I take it upon myself to do my best to be the epitome of patience whenever I encounter some adult who has the same oratory affliction that I had as a child. Listen, I know that this will in no way excuses my petulant displays of impatience, like last week when I violently shook my letter carrier's mail-truck because he decided to take a lunch break while my mailbox remained empty. But for the last 20 years, whenever I've encountered someone with a speech impediment or some sort of god given hindrance, I suddenly go from being an impatient malcontent to a considerate and thoughtful nurturer. Its pretty disgusting I know, but at least I have a highlight reel to show St Peter as I passionately plead my case for an admittance into heaven.

I bring all of this up because recently a real good friend of mine who has OCD(Obsessive-compulsive disorder), Mark, wanted to know why I had stuck by him all these years when so many others have abandoned him as soon as his quirks simply became too much to bear. Part of it is the patience born out of being a stutterer as a kid. I hardly raise an eyebrow now whenever Mark has to touch the ball a certain amount of times before we can even begin a pickup basketball game. I've never been irritated when it takes him a half hour to leave the house because every time he touches his doorknob something just doesn't feel quite right to him. But the main reason why our friendship has withstood the test of time is primarily because we are kindred spirits of sorts. See, I have what you call "Hip Hop OCD". Let me explain:

* For as long as I can remember, if I'm browsing through some mega-store and wander into the home stereo system section and some mindless, monosyllabic knuckle-dragging form of Hip Hop is playing - I immediately take it upon myself to change the channel immediately. Sometimes shoving the person out of the way who just turned on that vapid dreck in the process.

*One of the main reasons why people stopped inviting me to their weddings, outside of the fact that I once convinced a bride's blind cousin to get me "hand love" in the woods behind the respective reception hall - is my ongoing habit of threatening the lives of reception DJ's who insist on playing music that simply isn't up to my particular standards. I know that its not my special day and all, but if you think its alright to play records that involve the listener participating in some sort of convoluted dance - you deserve to get your fucking ass kicked.

*Despite being an asshole, and having a case of germaphobia so strong that I won't make love to a woman without riot gear being involved, one of the main reasons why I'm single is because I always find it increasingly difficult to consummate a relationship with a woman who happens to have horrific tastes in music. I just can't seem to just keep my mouth shut and receive the booty spoils, instead I either answer with "..sorry, but that T-Pain CD was a deal breaker!" when a woman calls to inquire about why I've stopped calling her. Or my disgust starts to become my mid-coital chatter: "Yeah baby, that's it right there. Damn, I'd be enjoying this so much more if you didn't carelessly quote Young Jeezy earlier!"

*It seems mean, and I always reimburse the person afterwards, but if some misguided passenger of mine decides to slip some bullshit into my car CD player, I'm throwing that shit out of my window for distance as if it was an Olympic event. You think I'm bullshitting, my father saw his "Who let the Dogs out?" CD thrown with the same aggression Ninja's exhibit while targeting an opponent with throwing stars - and my old man was dying of cancer mind you.


*I detest game playing in relationships, that being said, there is one thing I have to do in order to see whether the woman is a "keeper" or not. If she allows me to play Public Enemy's "Shut em down"(Pete Rock Remix") at least once while we make love, there might be a future for us.

*Since 1989, whenever I hear any cut from Biz Markie's "Goin' Off" album, I find myself doing "the whop" until some concerned citizen bravely decides to stop me

*I don't know about anybody else, but the radio stations in my area are corporate owned soul-crushers, especially if you are a fan of Hip Hop that doesn't aggressively take away I.Q points from you. That being said, on the same token as "even a clock is right two times a day", when I pop on my car radio and they just happen to be playing something decent while I'm parking somewhere - even if I'm in a rush, I feel compelled to sit there until the song is done.

Barack Obama should've been an MC.(Vibe Throwback)

A long time ago, in a galaxy pretty damn close actually, your favorite blogger in the whole wide world was once an MC. I always look back rather affectionately on the days when my main goals in life were crafting eyebrow raising similes and delivering obscure references with the straightest of faces - as my dear parents prayed to the good lord every night that he'd bless me a "respectable profession", I stayed in the studio, hoping that the haphazard penmanship plastered in my worn notebook would be quoted by Hip Hop fans of all walks of life for decades to come. Back then, and to some extent now, I always viewed the path of a true MC to be similar to some garden variety kung-fu master you might have seen in a movie once - even though he could mercilessly whip anyone you put in front of him, he still tirelessly continued to hone his craft in search of reaching that higher level. Regardless of how good I thought I was, I'd constantly devour books that I wouldn't have usually given a second look to, poured over thesauruses, routinely tinkered with awkward rhyme flows and unique cadences to have a more well rounded lyrical arsenal - hoping to one day exhibit a freaky yellow glow around my body while rhyming on some "Last Dragon" shit. But obviously, being blamed for all of society's ills by opportunistic politicians and finding myself on some ham-fisted panel about Hip Hop on popular talk shows hosted by Oprah was not to be my fate. Those who can't, teach, those can't rhyme for a living, hate. That's why its so easy for me to mercilessly criticize the lyrically ineptness of the likes of Plies and Lil Wayne, its not out of some sort of deep seeded envy born out of my own unfulfilled microphone endeavors - but because I fundamentally think that they suck, and often get the sneaking suspicion that most primates could do their jobs for them with the greatest of ease.

That being said, if I was to take a step backwards and be completely honest with myself, I'd come to the conclusion that my tenure as a professional rapper would have been an absolute disaster rife with public blunders. Sure, I'm confident that my lyrical skills would have probably kept me on an even keel with most of my contemporaries, but I have so many nonsensical neuroses that my musical career would have seemed like one continuous episode of "Seinfeld". Coming from a guy who has never met a sucker punch that I didn't like, I'd be hesitant to exude anything coming remotely close to studio tough talk, always fearing that some ass-hat residing in my hometown would expose my catholic school background, my penchant for skateboarding, and my undying love for Janeane Garofalo. But most of all, the main reason why my rap career would have spontaneously combusted before it even got off the ground, is the decorum surrounding diss records that has always aluded me for some reason. I mean, do you just go "nuclear" on anyone who even mentions your name in passing and proceed to forcibly realign their raw at the next award show? Should you only respond to viable opponents and simply ignore the legions of lesser known rappers who are trying to make a name for themselves while sullying yours? Lastly, I'm a criminally lazy procrastinator, I can see myself angrily starting to write a response record only moments after hearing the opening salvo - then finding myself two months later, apologizing for my laziness by saying "Maybe when there was some hidden meaning in him calling my mother a crackwhore!"

That being said, after detailing the plethora of shortcomings I have in terms of the subject, after closely observing Barack Obama over this past year - its abundantly clear to me that the man should have been an MC. Don't get me wrong now, I'm not implying that being the leader of the free world and having your black staff members refer to you as the H.N.I.C with a wink and a nod is less glamorous as recouping your advance money or guest starring on someones misguided mix-tape - but like most gifted wielders of microphone apparatuses, he has proven himself to be extremely quick on his feet. Not only that, but when you factor in the way in which he controls crowds, how he nonchalantly brushes off the multitude of haters, even the wordplay he pulls out of his arsenal that would make any lover of the written lyricism crack a smile. But most of all its the mans response time that has impressed me the most, the counter-punch he threw last week after John McCain played "Shirley" to George W Bush's "Laverne" when our president tried to play politics in front of Israel's Knesset - and every time you hear Obama's chin music for McCain concerning Iran and his Lobbyist ties, you can't help to wonder much better it would have sounded over a Premo track.

D-Nice's True Hip-Hop Stories: The Homeless Emcee

Jon Stewart takes CNBC to the woodshed

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With his beadie eyes, misinformation, penchant for bullying the weak, and a hamfisted Eddie Haskell routine that has fooled many liberals - I never would have imagined that there would be a day when Joe Scarborough would pale in comparison in terms of cable news hackery. For the past two months it seems that CNBC has been the proverbial home of the conniption fit, most days I readily expect to turn to said channel only to find people running around screaming while pulling their fucking hair out. This is going to sound rich coming from a guy who once considered getting a blowjob from a friend's grandmother, but CNBC has been nothing but an utter embarrassment. From Rick Santelli's incoherent rant on the Mercantile floor, to him playing the professional victim when the White House decided to fight back - and all the other employees of that no account network tripping over themselves like Barney Fife on Crystal Meth defending that shitheel Santelli. But its not only him, it's people like Jim Cramer publicly berating Barack Obama on the economy as well. Not for nothing, but getting lectured from the likes of those two is like a person desperately trying to save their burning house while getting criticized by the arsonist. Get the fuck out of here. I can't forget about Maria Bartiromo on "Morning Joe" last week, throwing up her hands in frustration at Barack Obama and saying something in a petulant pout like "All he does is give press conferences!" before folding her arms like a teenage whining malcontent. Amateur hour indeed.

Somehow Jon Stewart was reading my thoughts because last night he went all in, ripping CNBC a new one. Someone had to. Bravo Jon.

D-Nice's True Hip-Hop Stories: Sadat X of Brand Nubian

True Hip-Hop Stories: Sadat X of Brand Nubian from D-Nice on Vimeo.

Janeane Garofalo on "Countdown"

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Barack Obama's strategy of taking on Rush Limbaugh and making him the face of the republican party is pretty brilliant, and extremely brash at the same time. It reminds me of how John Madden used to talk about his Oakland Raider's team, on some strictly "We're going to tell you what we're going to do and you still can't stop it" shit. While Rush Limbaugh reiterated his "I want Obama to fail" sentiments at CPAC to an adoring inbred crowd, no one was cheering louder than our Commander in Chief. I'm sure President Obama is disappointed that his opposition is so fucking stupid, but a win is a win I guess. That said, I had to post this clip of Janeane Garofalo on "Countdown" last week where she accurately breaks down the psyche of douchebags like Limbaugh and Michael Steele. By the way, this just strengthens my crush on Janeane.

Michael Steele, Black Acting School Alumnus

Rachel Maddow and Melissa Harris-Lacewell clown Michael Steele

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I've always been pretty pragmatic about the women who I've had my respective crushes on. Take Janeane Garofalo for example. She is funny, smart, an avid reader who doesn't own a computer(which makes my nerd nature rise), a political knife fighter tailor made for an insufferable prick like myself - and any white woman confident in her liberal street cred enough to call a black man(Larry Elder) a "House Negro" gets eternal props in my book. That said, when I actually envision the both of us being together, it simply spells disaster. For one thing Janeane is a recovering alcoholic, so my penchant for binge drinking would go over like a lead fucking balloon. Being a comedian you'd think that she'd openly embrace other peoples comedic sensibilities, but more times than not I've seen her openly reject any verbiage that comes within a square mile of juvenile crassness. As much as I would love to intimately show Ms. Garofalo how chubby writers with inferiority complexes get down, I'm certain that the tenure of our union would be spent with her reprimanding and dressing me down every few minutes for some unfortunate joke I decided to tell.

The same pragmatism is applied to Melissa Harris-Lacewell as well. My crush on her hearkens back to the days when I had a school boy fascination with a third rate singer with sub par acting skills who played opposite some guy named "Taimak". At first blush the two of us would seem like a perfect fit. She is cute, by the looks of this video she is a Hip Hop head, I've always had a weird affection for black women with lisps.. Then the reality of it all starts to sets in, my old man's words haunting my every thought - "Son, you have to punch your weight!". Again, the fact that I've embraced my inner asshole a long time ago gets in the way of a perfectly innocent fantasy. I mean, she is a serious writer who has penned articles for reputable publications about serious topics - regardless of the topic, I always find a way of referencing my penis in everything that I write. She's cultured, hob nobs with important people the world over. I'm the guy who once gave a girlfriend a dutch oven then proceeded to laugh about it over the course of the next hour. I've slowly learned that a lot of the advice that I've given Team Obama over the last 2 years turned out to be dead wrong, but Melissa Harris-Lacewell is a political scientist for Christs sake - I'm sure that being told that you are a clueless rube in real time is very emasculating. Still, a boy can dream can't he.?

(The video above is Melissa Harris-Lacewell and Rachel Maddow mercilessly mocking Michael Steele's vision of injecting some Hip Hop sensibilities into the GOP. Enjoy)

David Brooks on Bobby Jindal

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Barack Obama: A chess player amongst a sea of checkers aficionados

One of my favorite pastimes, outside of alphabetizing my porn collection and drunk dialing married ex-girlfriends and incoherent yelling "You could have had it all!!" into the phone receiver, is occasionally playing the video game "Hitman" with my older brother Craig. Sure, we've finished the game many times before, but one of the reasons we still play is because its a chance for two brothers on polar opposite sides of the personality spectrum to bond. The other reason is because the game is all about stealth, so the same way a major league pitcher goes his entire career searching for that coveted "perfect game" - my brother and I hope to one day kill every single one of our respective targets without raising one iota of suspicion. That said, I found out that analyzing our playing styles is surprisingly indicative of our personalities. My brother is the epitome of incognito, changing into butler uniforms to disguise his murderous intentions, calmly choking out hotel guards with fiber wire then proceeding to hide the body in some random closet - making sure that the only person to incur his wrath is the evil bastard he's been assigned to dispatch. I always start off trying the "stealth" approach - but unlike my even tempered older brother, my impatience always seems to get the better of me. More times than not my sole strategy is to enter the establishment guns a-blazing, blasting security guards, critically wounding innocent women and children, taking aim at domesticated animals.. Only after I'm one of two survivors in the entire building, I then proceed to mercilessly slaughter the man I was hired to kill. Problem with my genius method is that I always end up with a "Psychopath" rating while my brother gets the desired "Silent Assassin" rating. I've been thinking about that game a lot these past few months watching Barack Obama.

Ever since Barack Obama announced his candidacy on the steps of the old Capital Building in Springfield, Illinois, his actions on the campaign trail and subsequently in the White House, has undoubtedly proven to an ill tempered degenerate like myself that I could never be Commander in Chief of this great nation of ours. During the primary debates, whenever Hillary Clinton shamelessly played the Rezko card, I screamed at the television screen wondering why Obama didn't proceed to spend the rest of the night very cavalierly naming all of the shady characters Mrs. Clinton has ever been associated with. Shows what I know, he instead chose to keep it cool and take the high road. Thinking three steps ahead, he knew that he had to win over a large percentage of her voters when he became the Democratic nominee. After Barack Obama became our 44th President and the fate of that traitorous bastard Joe Lieberman was in his grasp, I wanted him to figuratively take him out like "Bishop" did "Radames" in the movie "Juice"(..even yelling "Riverside Motherfucker" after the duty was done) Obviously our President did the exact opposite. Letting Joe Lieberman's transgressions slide turned out to be a rather shrewd move, because in turn, the good Senator from Connecticut was not only a big cheerleader of the Stimulus Bill but also he helped out when those talks started to break down. The mere idea of Hillary Clinton as Secretary of State made me vomit inside my mouth a little, I found no reason to reward her after she waged a shitty campaign filled with veiled racism and dog-whistles - people like to forget that when her back was against the wall during the primaries she courted the right wing media of all people. Again, our President made a fool out of me. Sure, she is qualified, but keep your friends close and your enemies closer they say - plus, the last thing he needed was a bitter ass Hillary causing trouble in the Senate.(Just imagine if she came out against the Stimulus Bill? Oh Boy)

The Obama masterstroke as of late has to be the way in which he has engaged Rush Limbaugh. Chris Matthews, a cable bloviator that I don't particularly loathe, has been one voice amongst many who thought it was a colossal mistake for Obama to get in the middle of the ring and trade with the elephantine host. Many nights I heard him ask, "Why give the guy more attention? Why add to the millions of people who listen to Rush?" That's small ball to Obama. See, Obama reads the polls like everyone else, he knows that outside of Rush's mouth-breathing, cross burning fan base - the garden variety person in the U.S of A thinks that Rush Limbaugh is a smoldering piece of shit. So, due to the republican party's lack of leadership, why not try to destroy the opposition by crowning some asshole whose advice has lead to big losses in the 06 midterm elections and the presidency? Not for nothing, but Barack Obama is a chess player amongst a sea of checkers aficionados. He's at least a rather stealthy "Hitman" player.

"Damn it feels good to see people up on it"

Even though the election is over and my guy won, I'm still pretty bitter, getting Bill and Hillary's condescending "He'll get his turn" approach to President Obama during the Primaries out of my head is a pretty herculean task. The Reverend Wright coverage depressed me for days on end. Even though I'm fully aware that Sean Hannity is the opposition, but his xenophobic scare tactics has assured one thing - if I ever see that motherfucker, I'm going to soften his ass up with a pillowcase full of sodas. Like the Holocaust, I often email youtube clips of the inbred racists at Palin rally's to friends with the words "Never Forget" as the respective title. But all the black conservatives who came out of the woodwork during the election now seem both sad and amazingly funny. Funny because, well, my guy won and they are left looking like a geriatric pair of tits. Sad because this their "I'm not a uncle tom, I just have conservative views" shtick doesn't work this time - not when you supported a ticket that was all about racist dog whistles and xenophobia. Yes, you are a conservative man, but you are a black man first - so it was fun to sit back and watch with curiosity as John McCain stoked white fears to win an election. Like strippers with daddy issues who take their clothes off for acceptance, black conservatives did the predictable shuck and jive routine because some black girl in their past called them "ugly" Enter James T Harris. Damn it feels good to see people up on it!

Barack Obama has a black belt in calling out ignorance

Now that I'm a couple of years shy of the age my father was when I was born, not only have I been seriously thinking about injecting some poor soul with my demon-seed as of late - I've also started to take stock of all the undesirable qualities that I've unfortunately inherited from my old man. My unreasonable impatience, hair trigger temper, tactless nature, my penchant for being habitually late, being susceptible to cinematic tearjerkers - all things that I hoped would skip over yours truly and hopefully affect one of my future crumb-snatchers. But to be honest, there are some not-so-great qualities that I've inherited from my old man that I fully embrace. The first one, something I've desperately hoped for ever since my very inebriated grandmother punched me in the face circa 85' - is that I'm a rather jovial drunk. The second, my chubbiness - sure, it would be great to be cut up like Brad Pitt in "Fight Club" - but my self esteem is intact solely because a beer gut shields my eyes from a part of my anatomy that I refer to as "the black myth ruiner". Lastly, even though exhibiting this viewpoint hardly wins me any friends - but like my old man, I rudely call people out for having I.Q's south of room temperature. My father, who was in the military for 30 years before being a master mechanic, would make grown men in his shop weep whenever they incorrectly installed a part or expressed logic that he found to be tortured. Unlike him, I'm not in the business of berating friends and loved ones, I channel my inner asshole for good and not evil - but people ranging from strangers to acquaintances get the business end of ridicule whenever something utterly foolish escapes their uninformed mandible. That's why I dig our new president so much, because it looks like he's inherited that same asshole gene as well.

In the video above, after hearing John "leather-face" Boehner and Eric "soul of a game show host" Cantor speak to any media outlet that would have them and shamelessly lie about his stimulus package - our Commander in Chief corrects the record with a time honored "what are you, fucking retarded?" tone to his rhetoric. I love that. I hold the firm belief that ignorance shouldn't be met with civility but hostility, not with measured responses but with sarcasm and contempt. That way of thinking is underlined when he exhaustively asks, "What do you think a stimulus is?", and firmly states "That's the point!". This tactic isn't new to the President, remember when he chin checked the GOP concerning tire gauges - same tone, same scrappy insistence to get in the middle of the ring and trade with ignorance. Hold on to your hats, the next four years is going to get very interesting. My dad would be so proud.

This just breaks your heart..

As George Bush ate cake with John McCain while Katrina did her damnedest to drown every New Orleans resident that she could get her hands on, I don't know what affected me more today - the heart-wrenching pain in Ms. Henrietta Hughes' voice as she pleaded for help, or the fact that we actually have a president who gives a fuck. One media misconception of Obama, outside of the hamfisted pre-election "He has a Hispanic/poor white person problem" - was that he was cold and aloof, lacking compassion somehow. Not the case at all.

While opponents of the President will clumsily recite the words "..this isn't change you believe in" whenever Barack Obama does something that they don't like - nothing has defined change like the last week. I mean, townhalls where the questions weren't scripted, meeting with 9/11 and USS Cole family members and inviting their criticisms, answering questions from hostile Sean Hannity fans.. If you don't think that the Obama administration is a complete departure from the last 8 years, your simple ass isn't paying attention. Yep, this is the guy I voted for.

Obama should channel Jay-Z when dealing with Michael Steele

I think SNL's Seth Meyers summed up the nomination of Michael Steele for RNC Chairman rather succinctly on Weekend Update: "This week the RNC selected Michael Steele as party chairman. You guys know it doesn't work with just any black guy, right?" My sentiments exactly. Forget for a moment that this was the same Mensa member who authored the phrase "Drill, baby Drill", and defended the racist asshat who distributed the "Barack the Magic Negro" song(Chip Saltsman). Now that Michael Steele is the RNC chairman he's wants to mix it up with Obama in the worst way. Problem is he's selling nothing but wolf tickets and has a glass jaw to boot. First he said "..and for those of you who wish to obstruct, get ready to get knocked over" during his RNC Chairman acceptance speech - pretty flaccid tough talk when your party is outnumbered both in the House and the Senate.("We don't believe you, you need more people!") Then he was quoted saying "I'm in the business of winning elections". Huh? That's like carrot-top claiming that he's in the business of making people laugh, or Lil Kim saying that she's in the business of staying off of her back. Get the fuck out of here. But I thought of Jay-Z when Steele uttered this unfortunate grouping of words the other day: "I would say to the new president, congratulations. It is going to be an honor to spar with him. And I would follow that up with: How do you like me now?” Jesus fucking Christ, quoting Kool Moe Dee? Talk about Amateur hour.

I'm not the biggest Jay-Z fan in the world, but I continue to be impressed with how he deals with lesser opponents who feel the need to take shots at him from the cheap seats. Simply ignore them. I mean, the musical landscape is filled with unanswered diss records directed at Hov as far as the human eye can see. Jay-Z knows that when you reach a certain position, you only give your unworthy opposition who usually need a forklift to carry your jockstrap undue shine by engaging them. Besides, nothing obliterates an opponent more that a "You aren't even worthy of my time" message - the most deafening silence known to man. Steele is a GOP token, something to be smirked at like a picture of puppies or a Britney Spears interview - nothing more. Obama, when dealing with Michael Steele, should take heed of that.

Blu & Exile(Live) - "Up all Night"

Blu - Up All Night (Live in SF 1/31/09) from AlwaysHustle.com on Vimeo.

My case for MSNBC shit-caning Joe Scarborough

Most mornings, when I'm not virtually paralyzed from a night of binge drinking that would make Nick Cage's character in "Leaving Las Vegas" organize a swift intervention for me, or ushering some rather homely looking woman with criminally low levels of self esteem out of the hollowed halls of my porn fortress - I'm plopped down on my couch with a bowl of cereal watching "Morning Joe". Not so much because the show is particularly good mind you, its just happens to be better than anything else in that respective time slot. Its the morning show equivalent of having sex with Jan Brady, at least you get your proverbial nut(basic information) - but you would leave her milqtoast ass in a New York minute if Marcia's fine ass suddenly became available.(a serviceable show) Even though I characterize the co-host(Mika Brzezinski) as "the Ed McMahon of morning talk", a rather empty vessel paid to sheepishly nod and laugh on cue - and sincerely believe that a retarded monkey could do Willie Geist's job - my main point of contention is with that bottom feeding no-talent Joe Scarborough. If MSNBC really wants to crush their morning competition and abandon their "special Olympics, everyone gets a trophy" ratings, the answer is as clear as day. Shitcan Joe Scarborough, ASAP. Let me explain:

He has the personality of belly button lint: Ok, I know that there are more substantive reasons why MSNBC should give the ex-congressman the proverbial pink slip, reasons I will gladly go into shortly - but lacking an infectious personality as a host of a talk show is akin to a prostitute refusing to give head: You really should consider another fucking career. I mean, just look at their other hosts on MSNBC. Rachel Maddow has that lovably snarky, sarcastic thing down. Chris Matthews, even though his penchant for wearing his emotions of his sleeve often lands him in hot water, that same passion can also be a plus - his undying love for politics is infectious and usually masks any rhetorical hiccups he may have. Keith Olbermann's professorial attack dog shtick caught on largely because our 43rd Commander in Chief turned out to be the Barney Fife of Presidents, and his lazer-like accuracy behind the anchor desk gave argumentative people like myself fresh talking points to use on my Republican friends. Even hateful ass Pat "blacks benefited from slavery" Buchanan occasionally gives off a sort of grandfather vibe, when he isn't endorsing cross burnings and reading passages from Mein Kampf mind you - so when he does praise an Obama move you actually know that brother Barack is doing his thing. But Joe Scarborough isn't funny, has a personality that only a mortician would love, and rarely does he bring any new insight to the table that makes you rethink your previously held positions. Not only that, I'm a world class asshole who has been deceiving women since the late 80's - so I of all people can see right through his hamfisted republican "Eddie Haskell" routine.

His inaccuracy does his audience a disservice: If you don't have the garden variety personality traits that it requires to host a morning program, at least be factually accurate. I mean, I'm an NPR listener for Christs sake, so I'm used to receiving factual information while being bored out of my fucking skull. Also, I'm well aware that Joe Scarborough is a raging conservative, the fact that we would philosophically bump heads from time to time is a given - but facts are facts, unbeholden to any political party. From his felonious claim that Obama wanted higher taxes, his blatant misquotes, his habit of citing editorials as fact - and despite mounting evidence, his persistent and inaccurate claim that torture works. Get rid of this motherfucker already.

Homeboy is going to get fucked up: I love my mother dearly, she's the only person in existence that I would gladly sacrifice my life for without blinking - but one thing that I find truly reprehensible about the woman who gave me life is her television viewing habits. Specifically judge shows. I mean, there's no way in hell that Judge Judy or Judge Joe Brown would say half of the shit that comes out of their mouths if the proceedings weren't televised. More times than not I find myself saying, "I wish they addressed me like that, because they would need a fucking rescue team to retrieve that gavel out of their ass!" Something has dawned on me as I've watched his show for the past two years, Joe Scarborough is a bully, one who only resorts to said tactics when he's secure in the fact that those specific people won't kick his teeth down his fucking throat. From his petulant condescension of Rachel Maddow, his flailing attempt to bully David Shuster, or his despicable display of cantankerousness with Chrystia Freeland- I beg MSNBC, fire Joe Scarborough before someone not as gracious as the aforementioned three proceed to fuck homeboy up. Come on, having your host mercilessly stomped on morning television as if it was a gang initiation can't be a good thing for your network.

The Curious Case of Forrest Gump/Benjamin Button

See more funny videos and funny pictures at CollegeHumor.

Even though I spent a considerable amount of time defending "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button" when people pointed out the similarities it had to "Forrest Gump" - this piece of video is pretty damning.

My personal struggle with Beer Goggles, inspired by Ludacris.(Vibe.com)

Never in a million years did I ever think that I'd write anything concerning T-Pain where utter contempt and blatantly unapologetic journalistic eye-rolling wasn't involved - that being said, Ludacris' song "One More Drink" has a very special place in my heart. See, after a brief stint last year where a kind woman with a clear humanitarian streak blessed an overweight aficionado of prose with receipt-free coitus while calling me her "boyfriend", I now find myself typing this post on a keyboard that would light up like 4th of July celebration if you ever decided to put a black-light over it. What I'm saying is, I'm in the exact same place that millions of other deviant snobs destined to be alone find themselves: Scouring every corner of the Internet for dialogue driven, triple penetration pornography or seeking out women of the lowest moral fabric who happen to have political science degrees and are fluent in 80's era Hip Hop.(Its a tall order, I know, that's why I settle for garden variety smut and women who probably couldn't tell you who our Vice President for the last 8 years was) To be completely honest, because of a germaphobia that increasingly becomes Howard Hughes-ish as I proverbially dip my toe into middle age - the latter, casually getting to know virtual strangers in a biblical sense, is quickly becoming to be an impossibility now that I've recently started to research incubator bubbles.(Equipped with a glory hole no doubt) That's always been the cross that I've had to bare really, a sex addict who's consumed with an innate fear of physical contact - I've become the human embodiment of a fucking Showtime series.

That being said, as each night gets lonelier and my nether region begins to grow what appears to be ship barnacle down there - then when you add a steady diet of alcohol into the mix, I've recently considered taking women home who I'd usually give the merciless rebuke to. What was once an eagle-eyed determination, an unparalleled focus to maintain some resemblance of a sexual standard(Considering the fact that I'm an overweight asshole that is) - said impenetrable fortress of self respect becomes considerably vulnerable with each mixed drink that passes through my liver. Here is a brief list of some women who are nice enough, but individuals who I'd never consider showing my Run D.M.C bedsheets to under normal circumstances - only liquid spirits turns a usually self-respecting person into the Statue Of Liberty on some "Give us your poor, your tired, your huddled masses" shit. Alcohol is a hell of a drug.

"Black Courtney Love" - To put this as succinctly as humanly possible, I refer to her as "The Black Courtney Love" because she's the lead singer of a crappy band, has what I believe to be a serious drug problem, and lets just say that there's a cloud of suspicion hovering over the death of her first husband. I mean, despite her goth persona that makes her resemble a corpse most days, her screeching rock songs that I've deciphered as public cries for help, the colorful tales of near overdoses she cavalierly tells as if she was recalling an average Saturday night, and every 3rd conversation she initiates being about either death and rigamortis - she's an absolute catch! Usually I wouldn't be anywhere near this girl, my gut instinct tells me that being in a relationship with her would be akin to being hit with one of those prison "cocktails" filled with urine, blood, and piss that inmates throw at passing guards. But the other night, after I ran into her while imbibing in one too many drinks - I thought to myself: "How bad could it be? Making love to under her "True Blood" and Marilyn Manson poster before giving her the time honored 'Dick Cheney', I'm sure the make-up and smell of death can wash out of my clothes." Thank god a friend was there to save me.

"Margaret Thatcher": Her nickname is more of a reflection of me being a dumb fucking American than her actually resembling Margaret Thatcher - but its the first person I thought of when I thinking about an older British Lady. Maybe Dame Judy Dench would have been better?(I couldn't think of any older black British women) Anyway, she's not really that old, maybe in her late 40's - but "Margaret Thatcher" is an extremely nice woman from England who chats me up whenever she finds herself in my favorite watering hole. I genuinely like her, find the fact that she refers to the police as "The Filth" absolutely adorable, and she is well versed on everything from Music to sports. I truly find her company enjoyable. Problem is, not only am I not attracted to her, but she has a long and sordid relationship history that she has recited to me line and verse. She's looking for a man and I'm looking for S.A.D.A.B(Suck-A-D**k-and-bounce) - I couldn't do that to her, I'm still receiving Karma checks from the first 27 years of my life. I'd be lying to you if I said that I never seriously mulled over the idea of going home with her and switching my usual ritual of quoting Kool G Rap lyrics during sex with God Save the Queen - but I haven't been that smashed to actually carry that plan out. There is always tonight.

"Kelly from 'Breakin'": My mother is one strange bird. I mean, more times than not she ends phone conversations with "Bye Stonehenge" or "Bye Crop-circles" - solely because I made the mistake of telling her that I've never been with a white woman. It's not a race thing at all, I'm sure there are plenty of melanin challenged chicks worth enduring incessant public teeth sucking from black women - its just that the white women who have historically liked me look as if they were raised in Chernobyl, or West Virginia for gods sake. No thanks. Also, I like my white people "white". People who suddenly try to take on a black persona never fully understand that doing so is utterly insulting - speaking in broken English and engaging in other stereotypes is a window into how you really feel about black people. That being said, a woman who goes to a bar that I frequent falls into the aforementioned category, hence the "Kelly from Breakin'" moniker. Even though she sounds like Buckwild from "Flava of Love", adores every single rap act that I absolutely loathe, and once committed the cardinal sin of telling a black person(me) that they "sounded white" - the liquor made me momentarily forget her criminal history as I wrote my address on a napkin for her the other night. I was about to give it to her too, until she returned from what I thought was the bathroom. I jokingly said, "Damn girl, you smell like cock - what have you been doing??!" - she then aggressively wiped her mouth while asking "You can really smell it?" Eww. I really have to stop drinking.

Read my new book: "Ann Coulter's vagina smells like an autopsy"

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I know that the title is crass, but if writing incendiary human waste disguised as journalism can routinely land me on the "Today" show whenever I want, with Matt Lauer feigning outrage despite the fact that he's fully versed on my history of saying reprehensible things - why the fuck not? Seriously, is it me or does this pre-opt transvestite simply write the same fucking book over and over again or what? If it isn't some poorly written screed about how liberals are destroying civilization as we know it, its a bouquet of tortured logic that makes any casual observer with an I.Q above room temperature feel as if they are on the business end of a practical joke.(You can look at this Al Franken clip to get a glimpse of how poorly researched her books are, and the out of context comments she stubbornly stands by.) Despite Ann's education, she represents the same brand of Anti-Intellectualism that mercilessly got its ass handed to it on November 4th. She's Sarah Palin making sure to give a sufficient amount of eye-winks and "You betcha's" during the Vice Presidential debate for all the functioning illiterate masses who prefer masturbatory material over a qualified public servant. She's Larry the Cable guy, a comedian who once had no southern accent to speak of - who suddenly takes one on along with a stereotypical redneck persona just to siphon millions of dollars out the pockets of the multitude of dopes out there. She's "Lipstick on a pig", "Drill Baby Drill", and all the other failed tactics used to capture the inbred vote. Some people give me the "Evil Genius" theory about Ann Coulter, that I shouldn't get all worked up about the skeletal one - alluding to the fact that she knows what she's peddling is crap, like she's a "performer" akin to a professional wrestler. Fair enough. But you could be "kidding" while shouting "Fire!" in a crowded theater, it still doesn't take away from the harm that may ensue. But really, if she is just bullshitting us, at least make an effort for realism - Sean Hannity has a greater chance of being assassinated than Barack Obama? Jesus Christ Ann, will you at least try?

"Damn it feels good to see people up on it"

Schadenfreude:Satisfaction or pleasure felt at someone else's misfortune.

I love that fucking word, it seems to be a running motif in my life. An extremely bad person meets their untimely demise, I don't exactly celebrate, but I hardly get broken up over some asshole being snatched from the mortal coil. Finding the myspace pages of women who once broke my heart and seeing that they currently look like a fucking tornado hit them isn't the worst thing in the world. From now until the inauguration I'm going to post video's like this one, of some random fuckery someone perpetrated during the election(Like this video of Barbara West clumsily asking Joe Buden a slew of gotcha questions. The utter seriousness in which she asks the most ridiculous questions is whats really funny), and say to myself, to quote Biz Markie - "Damn it feels good to see people up on it!" Take that motherfucker!