Thursday, April 30, 2009
With my ability to stay connected via the world wide web compromised, I will have to keep this short and sweet, concisely speaking of all the things I love...
Rosie Perez, Latina midgets and Guinness. That is all.
There is no way in hell that I’m walking out of this Airport sober without blogging about my distaste for the New York law that prohibits airport bars from opening prior to ten am. WTF son! Wait, am I allowed to say that and still sound tough? Whatev. Lol. What f'ing genius was not smart enough to realize that alcohol is an essential part of any vacation and that, aside from catching your flight, the concept of time does not exist in airports! People sleep during afternoon layovers, eat hotdogs for breakfast and drink beer with their breakfast , when permissible, all because it doesn’t matter! I know it’s 9 am but 'hoe! Give me my fuckin brew!’ Sorry for cussin.
Now that my midmorning rant is complete I am free to comment on a cornucopia of other Airport BS which only makes arriving at your destination that much better. Let me start by saying Airport Security is nonsense. Thank you f' ing Taliban shoe and belt bombers for f' ing it up for everybody. I obviously do not have a bomb in my Jordans and yet I still have to take them off. F*ckers!
Despite me being upset about these trivial matters, I have not only decided to not let my vacation be ruined, but to earn myself some good Karma, albiet via a big booty mexican. While this may seem paradoxical, it is indeed true. While sitting next to a non-midget big booty latina on her way to Houston, I offered to help her with her bags, only to find out she didn’t speak english. Needless to say I spent the next hour of the flight fantasizing about letting my unborn children flow all over her 2 gold teeth, yet ended the day translating for her and getting her to the appropriate gate. For those of you still doubting my intentions, I also helped an old Jamaican woman get to her flight. P.S. I didn’t want to f-ck her.
Live, love , Fly.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Contrary to popular belief, I do not bring up the subject of my upcoming vacation in an attempt to brag or show off, but rather to transition into a short blurb on the topic of vacations. In recent history I have been to a variety of different countries (some of which allowed for the legal profession of prostitution), and realized that while my vacations were undoubtedly fun and memorable, they were missing something...
While I am not one to constantly dwell on the subject of race, I could not help but notice that I am usually the only black person in my vacation convoy. This is not to say that I have no black friends, (I'm from the hood son!), or that my African American friends are broke (these mutha f***as have money to pop over expensive bottles of Moet and Nuvo every week) but rather that I refuse to go anywhere with people who don't tip!!! Just kidding. The real reason my melanin toned friends choose to miss out on sailing in Greece, brothels in St. Martin or all night parties in Vegas are that ni**as refuse to go anywhere other than South Beach (on memorial day weekend) or Myrtle Beach (during Bike week). Yes, I said it damnit! Also...just as a public service announcement...Ni**as, go get f**kin passports!!
Why is it that every black person decides to go to Miami Beach during this same weekend, and then acts surprised when they get there and 85% of the people are wannabe ballers from the East Coast who saved up their rent money to buy bottles. Now don't get me wrong, I am not pretending that I have never done the same...but I'm just saying....
For those of you who think I am making blanket statements about an entire race, I urge you to read the comment section after this post. This being said, I also urge any minority female aged 16-34 who considers herself a dime piece (extremely attractive female) to affirm, via post, the fact that you have never been to South Beach on Memorial day weekend! HA! You can't do it. don't worry though ma, I wont tell anyone what you had to do to get free VIP access to the club without buying bottles. Trust me though, what happens in Miami beach definitely does not stay in Miami beach and most likely ends up on youtube, myspace and a myriad of Hood DVDs. Silly chickenheads, Miami Beach is for kids. Get some stamps in your passport.
Fellas, you are officially not off the hook and are just as bad as your chickenhead girlfriends. While Myrtle beach has nice weather and the women are definitely top notch within the Chickenhead spectrum, it is not OK to go to bike week without a bike. This act in and of itself officially makes you a cornball...a herb...an L 7 square. while I myself do not have a bike (dirtbike excluded), I find it utterly disgusting that a bikeless poser would even want to scavenge the leftover bike whores willing to f**k anyone with a bike, and once intoxicated, those without. I know it is hard to believe, but some women actually live for and countdown the days until bike week...trust me, I know them! While occasionally banging a second tier Target hoe may not be the worst entry on the "things I've done when no one was looking" list, it is definitely not permissible. It is in fact deplorable to sleep with a woman who's life ambition is to take myspace pictures on the back of someones bike, and the highlight of who's life was senior prom. Leave the biker girls to the biker boys and dare to be different. Take a chance on a girl which may actually be worth bringing to Ihop in public and switch up your vacation swagger. Your conscience and self dignity will thank you for it in the future.
See ya in a few, I've got a plane to catch.
Love Life & Live for the story,
And now, onto more serious business....
As I crawled out of bed this morning and lethargically made my way to the computer, clicking off pop-up widow's of last night's Bridget the midget 'films', I could not help but think of how hypocritical people are towards "little people," often giving them the proverbial "short end of the stick." While many an educated female will quickly and unabashedly denounce racism, sexism or any other form of intolerance, the idea of a man doing a "little" bump and grind with a midget or dwarf is seen in her eyes as repulsive or disgusting. This, however, is not a surprise to me as I have been aware of one simple fact for the past few years; opposites attract haters. In the same way that skinny women hate on men who prefer big beautiful women, I have seen black men hate on black women who date white men. Short people hate on tall people, dark-skinned people hate on light skinned people and poor people hate on the affluent. This, my friends, is just the way of the world and an unavoidable consequence of the myriad of cultures and demographic factors blending in the giant mixing bowl we call America.
This being said, I take great pleasure in offending any tall woman with a flat a$$ and lack of an accent, as I indulge in the synergism produced by two of my favorite things:
"Puertoricans and Midgets: They both have fat a$$es."
Monday, April 27, 2009
21: The drunker I get, the better my fake Jamaican accent. Side effect: loss of ability to remember faces (I already knew about the good decisions part)
22: There’s no way to gracefully spill your drink on a big pair of titties
24: Patron and Hennessy DO NOT mix well. Hey, sometimes you gotta experiment.
26: Red Sox fans are the scum of the Earth, Jaegermeister is the DEVIL, and ALWAYS HAVE A WHITE FRIEND WITH YOU.
So the part about Sox fans is a prejudice I’ve harbored for most of my two years living in the
Mid-convo, and quite unnecessarily, I get yoked up by this big ass bouncer-sized cop (who happened to be black) and carried out the bar and onto the street. Now as a black man I know that resisting the cops is stupid, so I go limp and wait for Debo (as he’ll be referred to heretofore) to put me down, and I think two things:
#1: Well this is unnecessary
#2: OK, we’re out the bar, put me down. OK, we’re on the sidewalk, put me down. OK, we’re just on the street now, C’MON!
This last bit is what prompts me quickly transitioning from the abiding citizen I had been to the social miscreant I was to become. Because you see, if I had been acting like a douche bag while I was in there, I would’ve just thought, “you right, you right, I had that coming.” But now I’ve been unjustly removed FROM MY OWN BIRTHDAY PARTY and I’m pissed. Granted, I was probably about to leave anyway within 5 minutes but I mean damn, can I go out on my own terms?
So now I go into my drunken version of nonviolent protest. I doubt Dr. King would’ve been proud.
Step 1: Pull out the dick and start peeing in the street (I know you were waiting for it), while staring at club security, to show them what you think of them.
Step 2: Yell at Debo and repeatedly call him whatever you think will hurt him worst at the moment at the top of your lungs.
Step 3: When Debo follows you down the street and threatens to f*** me up, become very polite because his arms look like horse thighs.
Step 4: Never really feel in danger, because you have a white friend with you who speaks and acts very professionally at all times (Big-Up to
A small portion of the conversation went something like this:
Debo: You’re about to have a bad night.
C4: What are you talking about?
Debo (to Toronto D): You better calm your boy down or he’ll be in for a rough one
C4: I got no beef with you man
Debo: Oh yeah? Just a minute ago I was a b**** a$$ n****. What you got to say now? B**** a$$ what?
C4: That was in the past. (Sike I ain’t say that last one but I should have. I actually just went, “Well, you know…”)
Debo: You do that again I’m gonna f*** you up.
C4: You right, you right, I had that coming.
So after all the tough cop clichés were out of the way and Toronto D promised Debo I wouldn’t be pulling my dick out again that evening, we hopped in a cab and went home. SOMEHOW nobody got hurt or arrested. By nobody I mean myself. To Debo’s credit, he gave me a lot of opportunities to save myself. I took the 7th.
Naaaah. I’m sure it’s because I had a white friend with me.
NEVER LEAVE HOME WITHOUT THEM.
To Your Door,
In similar fashion, Puertoricans, due to their Taino ancestry and history of slavery and discrimination similar to those of African descent have somehow managed to procure a pass to use the "N-word." Whether I truly understand or agree with this is a moot point, as it does not change the fact that it is true or that puertorican women are sexy enough to allow us to not really care. White people, I regret to inform you, that if you believe that somehow you have secured one of these passes, I hope you look extremely latino, or will undoubtedly piss off someone...somewhere. LOL. Don't get upset.
Now that the introductions and niceties are out of the way, I am proud to make everyone's Monday morning a little brighter with yet another new post dedicated to those people who have undeservedly come in possession of a' pass' :
"Your pass has been revoked....all five of you."
#5: Amy Winehouse
While I am not one to pigeonhole or quickly label someone as "acting black" (whatever that means), I can undoubtedly say that part of the allure of Amy Winehouse was her strong and soulful voice reminiscent of powerful black songstresses such as Eta James (if you don't know who she is, ask an old person or check Wikipedia.) This being said, a pass was bestowed upon Miss Winehouse as we actually became quite fond of her...tattoos and all. When it came down to it, Miss Winehouse's propensity for smoking Newports (the official hood cigarette or 'bogie'), frequent bouts of alcoholism and occasional drug use were all just part of her charm as we the people had no problem handing her the "Soulful Songstress Pass", deeming her fit to evoke comparison to all powerful singers (pronounced Sang-ahs) and oftentimes representing the African American singing and songwriting community (despite her not being black...minor detail.) This being said, any Black person (with the exception of Bobby Brown and Whitney Houston) will tell you that IT IS NOT OK TO SMOKE CRACK. You're making us look bad Ma, your pass has been revoked!
#4: Erica Badu
Since we are on the topic of singers, let's talk about everyones favorite headwrap wearing Nubian princess...Miss Badu. While labeled as neo soul and placed in a category with other so called 'righteous' musicians who oppose drinking, do not do drugs other than weed and sport natural hairstyles, Ms. Badu is anything but a neo-hippie rastafarian urban mystic. What many people may not know, is that Ms. badu has 3 different rapper baby daddies, who if all nominated for grammys, would be in completely seperate hip hop categories (Gangsta, Conscious and living legends). Popping out seeds from Andre 3000 (affiliation: Outkast), the D.O.C (affiliation NWA), and Jay Electronica (Afilliation: Nas, Kanye West), not to mention a highly publicized relationship with Common (who was smart enough to wrap it up tighter than a Dominican Doobie...google it), Erica Badu is absolutely, positively a hoe. Now I am not saying she cannot be a conscious hoe...but righteous she is not. Hey, headwrap hoe...your pass has been revoked.
#3: Carmen Electra
Since we are on the topic of hoes, why not talk about one of our favorite throwbacks (Older woman called so do to the reference to older "throwback" sports jerseys). While typically, a woman of Ms. Electra's age (around 37) gets a pass simply for being a super stunning, ultra cougar vixen, she has run through more male celebrities than even a woman of her age is allowed the liberty of doing. What makes her offense most shameful, is that she could not even stick to one race, genre or gender (sort of). Having knocked boots with NBA star and all around wierdo Dennis Rodman, White rap / rocker Fred Durst, Mexican Rapper B-real (of Cyprus Hill) , Rob Patterson (of Korn), Dave Navarro of the Red Hot Chili Peppers and even Prince, I cannot call this opportunistic skeezer anything but. Prince! Really? Yes Ms. Electra, in the words of Riley from the Boondocks "you a hoe."
Your pass has been revoked.
#2 :DJ Khaled
I am going to keep this blurb short, and offer a synopsis of the situation of in three short sentences. DJ Khaled is annoying. DJ Khaled uses the N-word entirely too much. DJ Khaled is not Black.
While the aforementioned sentences should be reason enough to snatch Mr. Khaleds pass, I find it quite comical that his real name is actually Khaled Khaled (yes, that's his government name), and he is Arab (not half Arab like Jim Jones...DJ Khaled is 100%). As if this was not enough fuel for the comedic fire, I think it should also be noted that DJ Khaled received his pass to say the "N- word" from none other than Fat Joe...a Puertorican rapper. Go figure. DJ Khaled, you are not the best, and your pass has been revoked. Fat Joe, keep it up and we'll take yours too!
#1: Rosa Parks
Now hold on before you all start yelling at me. I love Rosa Parks and all that she has done for our beautiful black race, despite the fact that I no longer ride the bus (I'm ridin' Rims homie...I know unnecessary). I am going to keep this 100% respectful and not use the "B" or "N" word for the entire paragraph, and simply say that it was not ok for Rosa Parks to sue Outkast over that song "Rosa Parks". The song had no objectionable material at all! Rosa Parks, your....nah. I just can't do it. You are the mother of the civil rights movement and one of the most prominent citizens of the twentieth century. We love you Rosa. You'll forever get a pass.
Live, Love, Freedom.....
Show aka Martin Luther Bling
Sunday, April 26, 2009
A few weeks ago, as many of you may know, I was on a strict dietary regimen where the word "alcohol" was temporarily banished from my vocabulary. 45 days of no booze seemed like a good idea until about 15 days into the experiment when my leg started shaking uncontrollably. While I did make it 21 days, or a full three weeks, before calling it quits, I realized that I was quitting not because i simply could not give up alcohol, but rather because my new habits were undoubtedly much worse than the former. This being said, I strongly advocate the usage of Beer for therapeutic and medicinal purposes, but in the event that this delectable brew or nectar of the gods does not tickle your fancy or placate your Epicurean palate, I offer the following list:
5 things to do while not drinking beer that are inherently worse.
# 5: Replace Beer with Soda
In drinking about 6-10 beers on any given weekend and approximately 1 every night during the week, I thought that I may have a 'bad habit' which could eventually turn into a 'problem.' Once that statement actually managed to come out of my lips, I was actually relieved, as a person who is not in denial cannot be an early stage alcoholic. Phew. Mini crisis evaded.
With this revelation made, I still decided to go forward with the 'no drinking project' as I figured it'd be good to give my body a break, allow it to detox, and get my beach body ready for vacation in St. Thomas. Bad idea. In giving up the approximately 15 beers consumed in a week I managed to begin drinking 3 cans of Coca-Cola each day, 2 of them before 10:00 am. As if this daily over-consumption of caffeine was not enough, I would sometimes awake in the middle of the night dying of thirst and grab...you guessed it....a Vanilla Coke. While better than developing an actual coke habit, this potential switch is bad, bad,bad. Bad for your wallet, bad for your health and bad for your R.E.M sleep cycles. Take my advice and deep 6 the coke (no homo.)
#4: Watching too much porn
While indulging in the aesthetic pleasure of porn is no problem in and of itself, it begins to become one when it begins to interfere with everyday activities. When you begin to masturbate more than a horny teenager at home on a snow day, despite the fact that you have a girlfriend, wife or significant other, you, my friend, have gone too far. While not officially a creep, unless of course you own a trench coat and hang at parks, you should probably curb your enthusiasm (no pun intended...OK, i lied) and save yourself some clean socks. If you decide, however, not to take heed to my advice, I leave you with the following recommendations. Only use clean socks, be sure to do enough laundry so that you still have some to wear to work (or that could get gross), do not attempt to re-create anything you've seen on facial / Latina abuse or any fetish site, and be sure to take advantage of youporn, xtube and redtube.
#3: Taking all of your old leftover prescription drugs
While they were prescribed to you, it is completely not OK to take old prescription drugs prescribed to you for various ailments. While taking other peoples prescriptions is undoubtedly much worse, this is the first step towards a slippery slope of drug addiction (true story). While definitely bad for your financial health, as prescription drugs cost more than a six pack and some street drugs, these things are also terrible for your stomach. In the end, there's no point of trading your beer belly for a six pack if your insides are so f**ked up you can't even eat drink and be merry (like J. Blige...Come on, you caught the reference). Exceptions to this rule include Vicodin, Percocet, Oxycodon, and everyones favorite purple cough serum. LOL.
#2: Starting an intense exercise regimen coupled with Hydroxycut Hardcore
This is a disgusting and horrible idea. With a daily dosage of up to 3 pills which each contain as much caffeine as 3 cups of coffee each, your heart simply cannot sustain this type of strain. Be the effects truly magnificent or psychosomatic, depending on who you ask, nothing which leads to incessant headaches, uncontrollable shaking and nausea can be even 1% good for you. Sorry Hydroxy cut, but Anheiser Busch gets the nod on this one here, as beer has never given me any symptom other than fatigue, satiation and bliss. As with anything, try not to over-indulge on the Heinekens and Coronas and you'll be fine. Switching to Guinness will actually save you calories, as Guinness has about 128 calories and 10g of carbs, reminiscent of most light beers. ;)
#1: Saving money
I'm am absolutely sure that a few of you think I'm crazy for saying that saving money is worse for you than drinking beer, but hold on...let me explain. In saving money, the first thing most people do is decide what it actually is that they are saving for. In working off this premise, we often tend to save for things way beyond our reach, i.e expensive vacations, diamond jewelry and all things Louie Vuittion. This is not inherently a bad thing until one realizes that the modest amount of money spent by ditching the occasional six pack and avoiding friends attempts to lure you to bars and clubs, does not nearly give you the buying power to acquire any of these things. What this leads to is an attempt to purchase these items on Ebay or at local flea markets and or Swap meets. Don't Do it!!! I also would not suggest going into debt for a purse or pair of shoes, but will highly recommend it over securing fraudulent, counterfeit or bootleg goods. In the end, using the two hundred saved dollars, mixed with 600 from your savings, to buy an expensive piece of designer clothing is outright foolish, and I can say that I have never done anything that foolish while drinking beer. Side note: In not drinking for 21 days I became the owner of 3 pairs of sneakers (1 Prada) as well as a 5 Kt Diamond Bracelet. Yea...its definitely cheaper to go to happy hour.
Enjoy your Sunday.
Live, Love, Hey-Zeus.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
With the world famous Penn Relays track extravaganza occurring today, I cannot help but think of my own days at the University of Pennsylvania and the various times I've attended this event. This being said, I regret to inform you that this post is not at all related to track and field, but rather my days as a Upenn Quaker (our mascot.) By the way, the old school pic of me and Al Lee in the Choate Blues...Timeless.
If I were to write a book about my first two years of College it'd be similar to a hybrid of Tucker Max's "I Hope they Serve Beer in Hell", (if you haven't read it you must), and a Black Ferris Bueler's day off. If given the chance to finally pen (no pun intend) this novel, I would entitle it "Poisoning the Ivy league: A Quaker Trying to Sow his Oats." LOL. Go ahead, laugh.
While I know that this post may get me in tons of trouble and I am in no way attempting to glorify my sexual exploits, I will say one thing about my days in the Frat and my days in W.E.B. Dubois (the predominantly Black dorm)...We've shamelessly passed girls off like batons, and yes...Penn Relays, I've run those.
While I'll be damned if I give a sh*t about what people say, I do have enough couth not to mention names or specific instances except to say that the memories were grand and i still, in the words of Lil' Wayne, "wish I could F**k every girl in the world." From the "Sigma Pi All-Stars" (girls who slept with at least four members of the frat), to everyone's favorite jumpoff, the truth is, none of these girls deserved the reputations that were bestowed upon them. From the name "eggplant" (called so for the shape of her head), to the name LSB (called so because of her resemblance to Light Skin Balls), to the collective name "Suzie rotten crotch and her morally loose friends", I feel that all these girls we're given a raw deal. Looking back at the debauchery and everyday antics which we chose to call college life, I now realize that we, the hormone crazed, intoxicated man-children are the ones who should've been called whores, sluts and "jump offs." Oh, well...it's too late for that now and all I can say is 'viva la double standard.' From this moment forward we shall be known as Track Stars...we run through these b**ches like marathons son.
If a conversation between you and your boys can begin with "remember that time we both banged so and so in the same night," and end with "or the time she was giving you dome (jargon for fellatio) as i tapped it from the back", you should be saying no homo, but can officially consider yourself a Track Star. Welcome to the club. If you can have the aforementioned conversation and end it with "in Mexico", you are officially me, and should help contribute to this Blog. You are awesome and possibly my Idol.
In an effort to at least show that my intelligence and common sense were not completely eclipsed during my relay days, I can say that although I may have run track in at least three countries (true story), I was smart enough to Usain Bolt out of there just as quick as I came (pun intended.) While you may think more or less of me now for hanging up my track spikes, I can safely say that it ain't over until the old Star Jones sings.
I made a promise that I would never bring my track shorts out again, but in doing so, realized that I suddenly became a fan of another sport...Tag team wrestling.
Live, Love, Chickenheads.
Friday, April 24, 2009
With marriage rates declining, divorce rates skyrocketing and teenagers humping more than R-kelly at a Miley Cyrus after party, it is no surprise that I find myself blogging about baby mamas (albeit to mention their similarities to Americas favorite gaming console. )Yes America, I have taken it there and have no problem saying it. Baby mamas are like f**king playstaions.
Before I get into the complexities of this analogy and people begin to ask me exactly how many empty Guinness cans are on my desk as I write this Blog, I will point out a few obvious and simple similarities. While I know some people will be offended by my stating this, I can safely say that like Playstations, Baby mamas are good for playing games, and are usually black (as white baby mamas are often referred to as wives or fiancees). LOL. I figured I could get away with saying that since i strategically placed a white woman in the picture. Trust me, I'm not racist. LOL.
Now that the uncomfortable part, (aka the truth), is out of the way, I can focus on the more lighthearted similarities which I have noticed across the years dealing with other peoples baby mamas . Sidenote: I do not have one of my own...phew.
This being said, I'm sure those of us with and without kids can remember how excited we were when we got our first video game system (insert Baby Mama #1). In the beginning you wanted "it" all to yourself, but as time went by, you realized that it was time to share her/ it with the rest of the world. "Aint no fun if the homies can't have none" (insert Snoop Dogg Voice). Despite the fact that your youngest children seem to be infatuated with their "playstation" no matter how old and outdated it gets, you begin to find yourself wishing for an upgrade, waiting for the new version to come out and staring at those bright white Nintendo Wiis.
While the good old Playstaion is a good accompaniment for watching bootleg movies indoors and you often bring it on vacation to keep the kids busy, it's normally just a pain in the ass to bring out of the house. This being said, the beat-up, old playstation is left at home, often with your homies playing Madden, as no one in their right mind would dare to try and steal it. While you reminisce about the days she (aka "the playstation) had that brand new box, and think of the surprise that you displayed when you found she had a dual shock vibrator, you can now only think about your life stuck with this antiquated system, its bright red dot shining and serving as a harbinger of things to come...she's turned off, and there will be no playing tonight.
I regret being the messenger tasked with conveying such a sad and pitiful message as you realize that yes, it was not too long ago that you were free to play with your Nintendos, Segas and Neo Geo's, long before investing all of your time and energy buying playstation games. I cannot say that I do not sympathize with you in saying that you probably wish you had pressed the reset button early enough in the game, however, we all know that if you press the reset button too much, no one will play with you anymore.
I guess this post was a bit of a downer for those of you still stuck with Playstations and hoping for Nintendo Wiis, but if it offers any consolation, just remember that this one last thing...
plenty of suckers will buy a used playstation from Game stop just to get a deal, and in the event you still can't upgrade to that Wii or PS3, have no fear... there's always world of Warcraft.
Live, Love, Life. Death is Certain.
While I hadn't intended on blogging last night, I have realized that a certain event could not be ignored and hence, must be chronicled for those unaware of the significant impact it may have on the African American community. Well before receiving an influx of emails, texts and facebook status updates, I was reminded via overjoyed masses and a soul train line of followers, that the Messiah had indeed returned. Barack Obama had disended upon a congregation of faithful followers in Connecticut with Lil' Wayne in tow....Wait, that's not what happened at all. 8 pieces of chicken were 4.99 at Popeyes and Ni**as, and yes I said Ni**as, went crazy.
Apparently "Frenzy" was the word of the day on Wednesday, April 22nd as every Popeyes chicken franchise across the state looked more like the million man march sanz Farrakhan. While I hate piggybacking on what I know everyone and their cousin Olive Oil has been talking about for the past two days, I feel it would be an injustice to you all, for me to let this pass without me giving my own 2 cents.
I hate to say it but I'll be damned if white people weren't half right about that watermelon and chicken thing. Really people? standing in line for an hour just to get a chicken discount? Calling out of work? Forcing the police department to block of an entire street for the majority of the day? As if this in itself was not bad enough, it comes less than two weeks after a couple was robbed at gunpoint for....you guessed it....Popeyes chicken. Sorry to break it down to you, but Popeye himself wouldn't even wait in line for an hour to get discount chicken!!! That ni**a ate spinach for Christs sake! Popeyes franchisees, amidst all this chaos and ghetto-fied confusion I have still not forgotten you. You should be ashamed of yourselves...a sale on chicken? really! If we are allow this type of behavior to continue we will be serving as catalysts for a slippery slope in which all companies may follow suit. What's next? Hot sauce sale at Stop & Shop? Black people, and white urbanites nestled in amongst this hood chaos, we have to do better.
Now, I am not one to preach or pontificate. I have actually been described as quite hood myself, doing sh*t like wearing Jesus pieces over windsor knotted ties, eating Howard's pork skins in my MBA class and riding with a bottle of Franks Red Hot in my glove compartment. That being said, when I say something is ridiculously uber-hood or super-ghetto, it is!!! While I may not be the definitive authority on anything I do know one thing. Chineese chicken wings (a staple in the hood, might I add) are four for $2.00. What that translates to is 50 cents a wing. At 4.99 for 8 pieces, no amount of herbs and f**kin spices can make you forget basic math. As two prominent black thinkers once said, "don't believe the hype!" (Flavor Flav, 1988), "You've been hoodwinked, bamboozled, led astray..." (Malcolm X, 1956.)
What you have fallen victim to is what urban scientists have termed "the reverse caucausianist thinking module." Wheras inteligent non-minorities form the hypothesis that anything with an overwhelming number of seemingly uncouth colored folk must be bad or inherantly dangerous and scary (think Watts Riots, O.J. Simson Verdict or most street gangs) we tend to gravitate toward this multitude like a moth to an inviting flame, thinking we may miss out on something good, cheap or free (think Central Park concerts, Thanksgiving turkey drives and government cheese.)
In the end it is no one's fault but that godawful sailor with the deformed arms.
F**k you popeye and everything you stand for. Crown Fried is cheaper anyway.
Live, Love, Cook with Sazon.
P.S. I know this one was kinda short, but leave a comment and I may be persuaded to drop a second Blog by days end...Just had to get this one off my chest. Pause.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
1) Introduction: On the introduction, which will either have no background music or feature the best production on the album, which would be wasted cuz theres no rapping over it, I will speak on how I'm from the streets and I'm lucky to have made it out alive, but if a "n-word" wants to step to me, I would have no problem taking it to the gats if necessary. This would then be followed about 25 of my homies yelling unintelligible nonsense that everyone would assume to be cosigning. Examples: Mobb Deep - The Infamous Prelude, Nas - The Genesis .
2) The "My City is the Most Gangsta City" Song: This song lets all my predominantly Caucasian listeners know that if they walk down my block, they would be raped, murdered, and raped again before they reached the corner. Examples: Nas - NY State of Mind, Jay-Z - Where I'm From.
3) The "Growing up in the Ghetto" Song: This song lets all my predominantly Caucasian listeners know that it was hard growing up in the ghetto detailed in song #2. Of course, growing up, the local drug dealer was my hero as thats the only way to make money in the hood besides becoming a professional basketball player or a rap star. Examples : Naughty by Nature - Ghetto Bastard, Nas - Memory Lane.
4) The "Club Banger" Song: This song isn't particularly about anything, but the Neptunes or Timbaland or one of them "n-words" produced it, so it rocks the party.Examples: Snoop Dogg - Drop it Like it's Hot, Shawty Lo - Dey Know.
5-10) The "Typical Rap Songs": These are the songs where I detail my career of dealing drugs, killing n-words, smashing broads, and smoking weed....sometimes doing 2 or 3 of these at the same time. Guest appearances from more established rappers are welcome.Examples: Too many to name
11) The "Get All My Less Talented Homies on the Track" Song: This will be the worst song on the album, but I would have to follow up on the promise of putting my homies on after I made it big. Of course if any of them are lucky enough to get a solo album deal, I will end up getting more points on their album than they will. It's just business baby.Examples: The USDA album, the P$C album, Te St. Lunatics, G-Unit....
12) The "Detail all the Types of Girls I'm Willing to Smash" Song: The 2nd single. This song details pretty much all the types of girls I'm down to smash when I'm on tour....sort of like setting up the menu of the groupies before getting to the ho restaurant. Of course, the entire song is a lie as if given the choice, I'm smashing the groupie with the longest weave and fairest skin every time. Examples: Jay-Z - Girls Girls Girls, Young Money - Every Girl.
13) The "We Should Respect Our Women" Song: These hoes are not just our f-pieces, they're also our baby-mommas. Examples: 2Pac - Keep Your Head Up
14) Another Song Dedicated to the Hoes: This song would be a blend of Track #4 and Track #12, where the theme of the song is them shaking their booty to the beat before going back to the telly to commit a lewd sex act. Examples: Mystikal - Shake It Fast, Tony Yayo - So Seductive .
15) The Song Dedicated to Mama: Despite the fact, she's a recovering alcoholic and she kicked me out the house at age 14, a song would have to be dedicated to only woman I respect and love. Examples: 2Pac - Dear Mama, Jay-Z - December 4th.
16) Outro: This would be the longest track on the album, running at about 15 min as I would have to give a shout out to all the homies, all the homies' homies, and all my cousins. & of course, I would have to thank God, the big homie himself, who made it all possible for me to make this album full of misogony, violence, and other criminal acts.
Monday, April 20, 2009
P.S. Be sure to check back with the blog this afternoon as we will have a 2nd post courtesy of WJA3. Yes, We are going that hard. (No Homo).
Friday, April 17, 2009
Ok, now that that is out of the way, I would like everyone to know a few things before i get into the second part of this 2 part blog series. Despite your comments or requests, there is no way in hell I am adding Oprah, Missy, Star Jones or Mo'Nique to this list! A few memorable stars which should have, yet did not make the list are Celia Cruz (god bless the dead with her Swagger like none other, ) and Gloria Estefan (with her Sexy 52 year old Cuban ass). Due to the trade embargo with Cuba, and respect for women well into menopause, I was forced to remove these entries. Miley. Maybe Next year.
Here are, as promised, the remaining entries in my series:
Let me begin my justification for this one by saying shorty can cook. Nice lips, great legs and a cute face combine to make Ms. Ray one hell of a stimulus package (funny shaped tetas being ignored). While this one tends to appear fat one week and slim the next, we really don’t give a f**k. This hottie has got a body (see FHM photo shoot), and even though you may not admit to watching her show on the regular, you’d eat a little Ramen a la Rachel Ray.
Live, Love, Rice & Beans.
To be Continued...
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Rather than take on the guise of some Internet nerd, (which I completely feel like right now, typing and drinking Sam Adams Cherry Wheat), I am going to keep it 100 with you in saying that many moons ago I was labeled as what some would consider a man whore. While I have since progressed past this stage, it would be a complete and utter farce to pretend that I do not deal with my fair share of women, all of which brings me to the conclusion that hoes f**king make me sick.
Please, do not get it f**ked up America. I am or have been good friends with many a stripper, prostitute or morally lose girl, all of whom take pride in the fact that they are what they are, but are not hoes. When I use the term hoe, I am referring to women who have no home training, act like Chickenheads in public, do not realize that they are acting like Chickenheads in public and copulate with everyone and their cousin Jamal, all the while thinking that this is normal behavior. Golddiggers and white women who will date any black man, so long as he is black and has a name like Jamal, this does not apply to you. Members of the aforementioned groups , however, do not feel as though you have been granted amnesty, you will have your own separate Blogs in due time.
Being a Hoe, in my opinion, is worse than prostitution, golddigging and even some crimes classified as felonies. By sharing your body with ever Tom, Dick and Harry, (emphasis on Tom, he's a shady M'fer), and not even receiving monetary compensation, you are not only giving away something which you can never get back, but are also auctioning away God's Fillet Mignon for the price of a free school lunch (without the little container of apple juice which is always f**king frozen). In addition to this, sleeping with everyone not only creates a cornucopia of new STD strains, like that new Super AIDS sh*t, but it also pisses us men off. For instance, if I spend 420 dollars (including shipping) for a Louis Vuitton Belt, 62 Dollars plus sales tax (unless purchased online) for an Ed Hardy T-shirt and 3 dollars and 15 cents from Wendy's 99 Cent Menu buying you lunch, the fact that you can later go and sleep with someone wearing fake True Religion Jeans and an over sized button up from Kohls is not only disrespectful, it's just plain rude. While this may seem vain at first glance, it is something which has gone through every man's head at some point in his life. In the same way that low quality, imitation goods cheapen the image of the brand, sleeping with high quantities of low quality individuals makes you look like a 2 dollar whore, only far less intelligent, as in the end, you don't even have two dollars.
This being said, I am going to wrap this up as this is getting long and I need a Cherry Wheat. In short, I just want to say, ladies, the world is not as small as you think it is. Contrarily, the world is quite large, vast and all encompassing. What this means, is that if I have been intimate with you and am friends with 2 or more people with whom you have also been intimate, you are absolutely, positively a hoe. Do not take this case to trial with a public defender or Johnny Cochran as you will undoubtedly be found guilty in the Court of Hoe Law. There is no exception to the rule and no explanation for said behavior. Court adjourned.
As the age old adage states, "you cannot turn a hoe into a housewife" and no one is going to try. Women, girls, and old ladies, if you do not respect your bodies enough to safeguard them against swagless impostors wearing bootleg goods, at least respect yourself enough to charge them more than they paid for their cheap outfit. Please take heed as we do not want to see you on Maury, and trust me , we all Tivo that sh*t while we are at work.
Live, Love Life.