Friday, September 28, 2007

Ergo, You Suck

A.K.A. The Hater Post

I've written about this before, and I'm sure to write about it again, but jealousy is overrated. People, especially that 18-34 demographic, are vastly overestimating their importance to everybody else. Get over yourself, y'all. The reason so many people hate you isn't because they wanna be you. They hate you because you're not a likable person.

You are a horrible, horrible person to be around. You brag about shit that's not brag-worthy. You don't read, you don't have a greater understanding of any subject, yet you're a fucking expert on everything. You're not that interesting, yet you talk non-stop. You're pretty fuckin' obnoxious. You make fun of the less fortunate. You are not a giving person. You complain non-stop.

All in all, you need to stop talking about "all these haters, hatin' on me and shit". The hate Africans have for you is not unfounded. I'm sick of the word "hater" the concept of "haterism" and the overall overuse of the words used to make yourself feel better about any critical assessment of your behavior.

In other words, get over yourself. Go have a drink and sit the fuck down somewhere. Asshole.


Thursday, September 27, 2007

Bad Poetry Day

Second Sun

Oh how I love the warm glow of that giant yellow orb.
I bask in it and I breathlessly await
the for the next time my planet rotates
and I see it again.

Everything's peachy when I can
look above my head
and it beams down on me
so that I may taste
the liquid rays of sunshine.

It is never too hot to touch
or very far from my thoughts.
I will always be close to it
if I can help it.

Tuesday, September 25, 2007

The Gerund and Associated Name Show

I'm trying to submit some ideas for a new hit show for next fall's TV season. I've noticed a winning pattern that might just get me over conceptually. Let me know what you think.

Sucking Cox
Leonard Cox is a supervisor at a vacuum factory. One day in a freak machine accident, the vacuum parts get embedded in to Leonard's DNA. He becomes a living breathing dustbuster, helping police clean up crime scenes as well as gathering evidence.

Scratching Balz
It's party time in Miami and no one knows that better than Jacob Balz, the mixmaster extraordinare. He's the hottest DJ in the hottest club on South Beach. DJ Balz weaves his magic and affects the lives of the partygoers. Watch as a different all star cast drops by the club every week and watch the love, laughter and drama unfold.

Eating Coochie
He doesn't wait until the Fourth of July at Coney Island. Alphonse "Coochie" Curtis is in an eating contest every day of his life. He has a rare genetic disorder that makes him have to consume 5000 calories a day just to sustain his 130 lb body. How does Coochie find love and happiness in between bites? Tune in to find out.

Wondering Aloud
Wouldn't it be great to ponder life's big mysteries and get paid for it? That how Ahmir Aloud spends his time. This philosopher is responsible for keeping his clients grounded in realities of everyday life. His clients? The rich and famous beautiful people of Beverly Hills. Aloud and his sidekick Patience Virtue go from one zany situation to the next, leaving happier, deeper people in their wake.

Wasting Thyme
Eric Thyme runs New York City's sanitation division on Staten Island. He keeps the men and women who pilot his garbage scows in ship-shape, all the while wisecracking his way through the days of mind-numbing boredom.

I forgot the original one I wanted to use.

Frying Bologna
Life throws all of us curveballs, and Constantine Bologna is no different. After 30 years of manning the switch on the electric chair at San Quentin, Connie is downsized. He pursues his lifelong dream of owning a diner and the oddballs come out of the woodwork. Watch as Connie cooks up the laughs while serving up the fun on Frying Bologna.

Be Easy,

Monday, September 24, 2007


When I was a kid, I was inexplicably a huge fan of the HBO "comedy" show, Not Necessarily The News. NNTN was not very funny. In fact, it was pretty corny. But there was this one segment that always stuck with me, "Sniglets". Sniglets were made up words, according to the orginator, Rich Hall, that were used for things not in the dictionary but that we all had a common experience with. They were cute little words. Nothing "LOL" about them, but cute nonetheless.

I've been thinking about things that are commonplace in the African American community, but we don't give it a name per se, words that I call Niglets. I've tried to create a few.

Sibfrog - The child in-between two siblings with the same father that has a different daddy.

Merchmash - An asswhuppin' given to a child by a parent in a store or market, presumably after the child has continued to ask to be bought something.

Polemaid - The stripper cousin your wife had stand up with her at your wedding.

Founditure - Interior decorating done via booster.

Tithette - Your pastor's mistress/fuck buddy.

Evangicrush - Your favorite celebrity pastor.

Fratality/Sororloser - That dude/chick that dropped out or got kicked out of school right after they pledged.

Storker - Your girlfriend's baby daddy that won't stop trying to get back with her.

Flambroyant - Your gay brother.

I'm still thinking of shit. Please comment with your niglet if you got one.

Be Cool,

Thursday, September 20, 2007

If The Papes Come...

No real reason for the title of this post. Just a reference to one of my all time favorite B-sides (for y'all that remember 45s and "cassingles") from A Trib.e Ca.lled Q.uest. I fuckin' love that song.

Anyway, this post is a retraction. I fucked up. I didn't listen well. I let subtlety overwhelm me and I did not listen well.

I stand by my assertion that the lyrics are the worst ever. The abuse of poetic license, and shit like rhyming a word WITH ITSELF SEVERAL TIMES OVER is unforgivable. But that fucking Kanye CD is a BEAST.

It snuck up on me but I was listening and it hit me. Just like the third time I listened to "Fantastic, Volume 2" by Slu.m Vil.lage. I couldn't see what the fuckin' big deal was and then I hit the track that was the epitome of the whole CD and I saw. I fuckin' see!!!

"Flashing Lights" reminded me of a Dilla track. It's really some electronica shit disguised as hip hop. It's really a Detroit thing, evidenced by the guest vocalist on the track, Dwele. On my third listen, I heard genius. It allowed me to listen to the whole thing again, carefully, with fresh ears.

"Can't Tell Me Nothin'" is another masterwork. It's all good (except "Big Brother" which is so pathetic it's not to be listened to) good music.

Now if he would just shut the fuck up, learn to rhyme or say something that's not so fuckin' whiny. I refuse to listen to underdog talk from a highly sought after millionaire. Go swallow a half gallon of semen.

Be Cool,

Wednesday, September 19, 2007

What The Fuck Ever

I'm frustrated as hell. I can't sleep. I'm highly irritated.

I'm irritated about work. I'm irritated about my life. I'm irritated that I can't see getting my dick sucked in the near future. I'm irritated that bitches keep calling me asking if I want them to suck my dick.

The shit that used to give me pleasure doesn't anymore. I'm sick of music or at least I'm bored with it. Sex is not doing it for me, and I used to love sex. I can't smoke Djarums. If I drink alone, I'll become an alcoholic.

I can't sleep. I'm managing money poorly. I'm eating shit that's good for me, but it tastes like shit. I'd like to pick a fistfight with my boss.

I'm bored with the internet. Reading in general, really. I'm sick of these corny hicks, of all stripes, in this corny ass burg.

Just a few short weeks ago, I felt like I was on top of the world. Now? I just wanna be done. Done with something. Finished with this job. Finished with mediocrity. Finished with arbitrary parameters that have nothing to do with nothing.

I'm just basically fucking EXTRAORDINARILY irritated.


Tuesday, September 18, 2007

Got Me

There used to be a standard that I could count on. In my late teens, early twenties, I had an insatiable appetite for hip-hop. I couldn't wait to buy a jeep/truck and bang out instead of driving around in the latest piece of shit my parents bought for me. I wanted to rock the block with my good taste in music.

I bought most music UNHEARD. I bought on recommendations by The Source. If they gave a release 3.5 to 5 mics, it was a wrap. I copped the CD. Without the internet as a guide, I just worked on the positive buzz and word of mouth.

I bought 2 CDs I vividly remember because of clever marketing campaigns, A Wolf In Sheep's Clothing and Cypress Hill. I hadn't even read reviews, I just liked their ads. I bought 'em because of bullshit hype, but the hype paid off. I loved both of those CDs dearly.

This weekend I bought Kanye West's latest CD. I hadn't heard a single, but he has a track record that can't be beat. His lyrics were mediocre but his beats were amazing. I knew what I was getting. Then, I got the unexpected.

His lyrics are quite possibly the worst shit ever magnetized to tape. I know he thought of some of those lines and thought "Aren't I clever?" I can tell he saved 'em up for his CD and didn't use 'em on guest appearances. Not only that, the beat quality has diminished. The beats are half-azzed, the hooks are wack. It's pretty poor product.

But at least the CD makes me feel young again. I got reeled in by a clever marketing campaign. It's almost like I'm 20 again.

Be Cool,

Monday, September 17, 2007

I Don't Watch Awards Shows....

...but I caught wind of something this morning that got my goat. **sidenote: Somebody betta bring back my motherfuckin' goat. I'm from the Eastside of Detroit, bitch!** It seems that during her Emmy acceptance speech, Sally Field took to making some anti war remarks, saying something to the effect of "If women ran the world there would be no wars..."

I've read in several places where people are mad about Sally on her soapbox. Actually, I think there are too few places for real discourse to take place. Conservatives run the media, so we have the creative community trying to fill the void where true thinkers, competent spokespeople, that are anti-war don't get their chance to shine. In short, actors are idiots and rarely make their points well, unless written by somebody else. So I agree that Sally probably shouldn't have been on her soapbox, but her heart was in the right place.

That being said, she still perpetuated the myth that if women ran the world there would be no wars. It's utter bullshit. Women are fucking mean. They will fight in a second. Men, as they age, lose that urge. The most belligerent man in his youth will calm down to some degree. Women ain't having it. Most women I know will argue and beef at a moment's notice. I think the war would come QUICKER with a woman in charge. I think that a perceived slight might make it rain nuclear bombs. I think a bitch wearing the same dress at a State event will cause an international incident. I do not ever, ever wanna hear that insane bullshit about if women ran the world there would be no war shit. Let a man try to talk a woman hell bent on revenge out of taking revenge. She'll question his manhood, the size of his dick and his lineage.

That's really all I got.


Friday, September 14, 2007

When Keepin' It Wrong Goes Real

Hey y'all, I've been slacking. I have a story I've been meaning to tell y'all for a few weeks, but somehow I kept pushing it to the back burner.

I got an email from one of Batshit's girls, one that I met a couple of years ago, telling me she was getting married soon. She lives in ATL where Batshit lives now too. So, when I got the email, I figured she was finally about to marry the dude she was bitchin' about when I met her. She was complaining about him not "shitting or getting off the pot".

I was happy for her when I got the email. A couple of weeks later, Batshit called and I asked if she was going to be in the wedding. She told me "You late. She got married a week ago." I was like "Damn, that was swift. I just got the email. I guess ol' dude finally got his act together." She said "Ol' dude? What ol' dude? This is a new dude." I was surprised but not a lot, I guess. She had been complaining about the other dude and it had been almost two years since she'd been bitching about him.

"How long has she been with this new dude?" "About a month an a half."

So my mind is reeling. "She's only been with this dude a month and a half and they've been MARRIED for two weeks now?" Batshit affirmed my question.

"How the fuck did this happen?"

"Well, it's sorta my fault..." she started. "Shauna picked me up from the airport one day and she was depressed. We went to Red Lobster for lunch afterwards and she was just down in the dumps. This couple walked in and sat near us. I walked up to the table, introduced myself, told them my friend was depressed and if they knew any single guys. The man immediately pulled out his phone and called his boy. His boy and Shauna talked on the phone right then and there. They made plans to meet and the rest is history."

And it started to make sense, in an illogical Batshit sort of way. This story is a typical Batshit scenario. She'll take a perfectly private situation, and make that shit public to your chagrin. But this time it backfired. Because now her best friend is married to a dude she not only doesn't like much, but doesn't trust.

"The thing that gets me is Shauna has three daughters, and she just moved this stranger in. Just like that!"

"Have you learned your damn lesson about doing shit like that all the time?"

"I just hope that whatever happens happens quickly. Whether or not it's gonna work, I hope the sign comes sooner rather than later."


Wednesday, September 12, 2007

Be A Groupie...'s only natural.

I've spent a great deal of my life deriding groupies and groupie like behavior, like sweatin' some dude/chick that wouldn't piss on you if you were on fire. I've always been on a "fuck-a-bitch" thing, so it's hard to watch somebody sublimate their own inate greatness swinging on somebody's jock/bra strap. But I'm getting over it.

I think it might be healthy to be under the impression that a famous person might fuck you out of pity or desperation. It's a boost to the self esteem to completely make an ass of yourself and volunteer for "cum-bucket" duty. I think I've gotten this groupie thing all wrong.

You know what else? I think it's a positive thing to let the person you're with no you have no self respect if the object of your affection is really, really attractive. And famous. I mean, your mate is alright, but they're not REALLY, REALLY attractive, nor do they make a lot of money, nor does anybody wanna take their picture. They are thusly undeserving of things like your full attention or common courtesy. Don't give they lame asses shit!

Fuck what anybody else says. Just take solace in the fact that you have good taste. You (and millions of others) have bestowed the "hot" label on your crush, meaning that they have their narcissism validated and you have someone you can look at well into your old age, when your mate is wiping your ass and feeding you pudding.

Be a fucking groupie. It's what makes this country great.


Tuesday, September 11, 2007

Mind Games

Anybody that knows me knows that I hate almost everything. There is very little that brings actual joy to my life. It makes for a pretty miserable existence, but it's all I have.

I wanna try self-delusion. I want to immerse myself in it, to BE deluded. I'm not just saying this shit, I mean it.

I abhor small talk. Yet everytime I walk into the restroom, or a conference room, or just down the hall, I'm inundated with mundane, uninteresting conversation. If I could adapt my mind to want it, covet it, and absorb small talk, I'd be happier.

Then again, like everything else that I love, it would probably elude me if I really wanted it. If I craved small talk, I'd never get it. It would another one of those things (like more money, blowjobs, a career I like, etc.) that I just can't seem to get. But that could be a strategy, too.

If I actually desired getting hit on by trailer park chicks, being underpaid and overqualified, being asked overfamiliar favors by people I barely know, being told too much information by strangers and taking horses to water and trying to make them drink (a.k.a. supervising staff), then I could avoid them altogether. They'd pass me the fuck by.

It would be one huge mind game with the universe.

Be Easy,

Monday, September 10, 2007

Advice From A Drunk Uncle

If you are in a relationship that's not quite right, a stronger commitment will make it SO MUCH WORSE.

If you are dissatisfied and a person tells you "After we're married, things will change", you might as well leave right now. Go get the shit you want from somewhere else. People don't act fuckin' better when they're married.

Marriage is the absolute worse institution in which to try to make things right after the fact. People let themselves go, become more obstinate, and generally don't give a fuck. There's no incentive. What's the punishment for fucking up? Being ALLOWED to be single again? HUR-muthafuckin'-RAY!!!

Communication is the key. Talk to people so that they can specifically identify why they hate you so much. Don't be vague. Speak your mind. Don't let people hate you for the wrong reasons.

If you are going to be in a committed relationship, please don't delude yourself. You settled. The chick/dude you really liked is with someone else. "The one that got away" got away from your mate too. Stop frontin', cozy up with your eighth choice, and make some stupid, marginal babies.

Borrowed pussy is better than bought pussy. Bought pussy is better than stolen pussy. I guess this goes for dick, too, though I have no idea why you'd have to buy dick.

Sanity is a special thing. Those that don't have it, don't know it.

Be Safe,

Thursday, September 06, 2007

Things The Clipse Taught Me

You have no idea the about the work ethic of our youth. You think you do, but you have no idea.

I'm late to the party. I bought both these CDs by the Clipse earlier this year. I'd heard a single here and there, but I didn't realize what I'd gotten myself into when I got 'em free (kinda) from the BMG music club.

First off, fuck all y'all readin', because y'all skeptics. I'm sure you don't believe that these two young men from Virginia don't sell crack every day of their lives and have been since the age of 10. If you don't believe that, kiss my ass.

These guys live and breathe the crack game. Yeah, they rap a little. Spend hours in the studio and shit, and have beautifully clever lyrics that paint vivid pictures of street hustlin'. But that's just a footnote on what really makes 'em money. They cook game is tight! Them boys run corners! A lot of cats talk about selling crack, but most of 'em are lyin'. These cats love the crack game so much, they get offended when other dudes ain't slangin ' right. They are disgusted with dudes that don't work hard at selling crack, like it's some kinda game or something.

Personally, I'm with them. If you not gon' be serious about sellin' dope, get out the way, so a real cat can put in work.

This rap game is about laundering your money. Yeah, touring is nice, visiting other countries and shit, but that's only good to expand your client base. As they say "Keys (Kilos) Open Doors" You have the perfect cover to sell crack. I'm a rapper that talks about selling crack. But we all know I can't be selling crack, because I'm out here rappin'. **WINK** These guys are geniuses!!!

They are truly invested in the lifestyle. I certainly hope no one takes them at their words and investigates their business dealings to see the legitimacy of it. It would be embarrassing if it were found that all this illegality that they maintain is TRUE!!!!

Or if it weren't.


Wednesday, September 05, 2007

As I Drift Off To Sleep...

I hope I don't die in my sleep. My porn collection is brutal. I think my mother would have to disown me once she saw it. Can I will that shit to somebody? I'll let Three be the executor of my will and just leave him the good porn. I'll send the amateur porn to the Smithsonian.

Who's pussy smells the worst? I'll bet it's Amy Winehouse's shit. Or Courteney Love. Nah, fuck that! Britney's gotta have a pussy like an Roman catacomb. It's probably New York from Flavor of Love. It looks like her breath AND pussy stank.

I could really use a Whopper. I haven't eaten beef in 13 years, but a Whopper would hit the spot. Why not? I mean, hell, it's not like it's against my religion or something. It's just a choice I made. BK is right up the street. I bet I could just go in pajamas, right up to the drive thru window. My pajamas ain't got no pockets. Where would I put the money? Plus, I'm pretty tired. Man, fuck it.

I hope this is just a general itch and not something catchy. Wow, scratching is the best thing ever invented. I think I'll just rest my hand down here.

I really should change these sheets. What the fuck have I been thinking?

I gotta meet with this bastard first thing in the morning. I gotta make up a progress report. I haven't done shit in weeks. I'm pretty quick on my feet. I hate this asshole. Fuckin' milkfaced coward.

Harry Dean Stanton! That's his fuckin' name. Harry muthafuckin' Dean muthafuckin' Stanton!

Who the fuck is calling me? My dick don't reach to Texas. Why are you calling me at 1:30?

"Now there she goes again the dopest Ethiopian and now the world around me begins movin' in slow motion..."

I could still make a demo. I'm not that old. I still got it. Maybe. Shit.



Tuesday, September 04, 2007

Who Knows?

I guess I should post about this since I mentioned it. I went to Western North Carolina last week for a job interview. It was interesting.

First off, the city I was in is beautiful. Breathtaking views and all that. It's a growing city, which can't really be said for anyplace in old, industrial Michigan. It's a blue oasis in a desert of red. The people are friendly and the city government is high functioning.

In a nutshell, it's still Satan's Anus with money. The citizens are still pebbles in a muthafucka's shoe, staff is still self important and lacking introspection, and the other directors are still well meaning and condescending liberal jackasses.

They flew me in the day before the interview and got me a rental car. It surprised me because municipalities are notoriously cheap. They do the bare minimum to interview you, in a lot of instances asking you to share costs as a goodwill gesture, which is really bullshit. I had an opportunity to drive around and see the city. It's beautiful in a ridiculous, "God-chose-me" kind of way. Mountainous and heavily forested. I'm not really a nature dude, but I was impressed.

The day of the interview was full. From 8 am to 2 pm, there was a tour of the city given by my would be deputy director (who does NOT want the director gig), a formal interview, then a presentation to the other department directors acting as residents. That was the dicey part. I had to prepare and present a Powerpoint on development in mountainous regions. I've been working in urban Michigan since '94. What the fuck do I know about mountains? They loved the Powerpoint regardless. My background in number crunching helped me in mind-numbing presenting stats in a user-friendly way. They actually asked if they could use my graphs in the ordinance. Nothing's free, y'all!!!

Afterwards, I went to lunch with 3 of the city's department directors. They were trying to sell me on the city. It wouldn't take much, except for the right amount of money. Money and finding my chick a job near me. LOL.

Be Cool,