I'm Sick of These Cowards

OK, I can buy the argument that raising a teenager that has pre-marital sex and gets pregnant does not make you a bad parent. But do I extend that argument to include raising a teenager that steals, or sells dope, or even shoots people? Most people probably wouldn't, but most people didn't build a platform based on being the moral stewards of America.

Staying out of other folks' business is my second nature. Actually it's my first nature. Fuck people, in general. I guess I find irony in a group that wants to extend governments reach into people's private lives through spying and religious based edicts asking us all to keep private matters private. What the fuck is private, y'all? You don't respect privacy at all and now you want yours respected.

And just like I expected, the pussy ass Democrats, instead of smelling blood in the water, buy into this fake assed civility. "Families are off limits". Right. Just like the question of whether your dead parents were communists, or if you're letting your half brother live in squalor in Kenya, or if your wife is a bitter black radical. "Families are off limits". Priceless.

They'll be off limits until some shit happens to your family, believe me.

Be Easy,
KZ

Lesson One

Trials and tribulations are really underrated. We're in misery as we go through them, but the things we learn about ourselves and others are invaluable. That shit becomes ingrained in your DNA and you pass it down to your children and they to theirs.

It is only through our trials and tribulations that we come to understand what it really means to suffer, and what is tolerable; what is reasonable or unreasonable; what is sustainable and non-sustainable; what's good and what's REALLY GOOD. What are you really willing to do to keep your misery to a minimum? What are you really ready to give up for the good of the collective? If you've never had to give up shit, or have barely seen what misery looks like, you'll be willing to stand your ground on the most minuscule compromise. You'll hold on to a "principle" that's really just a manifestation of stubbornness. If you really haven't gone through shit, it'll look reasonable to you.

Some fears are healthy and others irrational, but we pass them all down through our teachings and through our actions. We are always being watched by the ones we love. Everytime we think something is enough, we'll learn the world doesn't work that way. You always have to fuel the machine, to feed the beast.

Some muthafuckas are determined never to learn Lesson One.

Peace,
KZ

Fed

This is how you know it's some shit in the game. I was late for work today. I was about an hour late. I have to arrive at work at 8:00 am. I woke up at 4:00 am, it takes me about 30 minutes to get ready, and my drive to work is only about 15 minutes. How was I late? I sat down and watched TV for four hours this morning, trying to make myself get up and go to work. I finally got there at 8:45.

I couldn't figure out what suit to wear, either. I desperately wanted to put on a polo shirt and some khakis. I didn't wanna put on a suit.

I know what it is. This is that same shit that manifests itself everytime I'm done.

I don't have the capacity to care about work anymore. Not that I ever really did, but now it's showing itself in the most visually obvious ways. I'm half-shaving, not really combing my dome, shoes unshined, ties not matching, office in disarray. I'm just fucking here. Until I'm not here.

Basically just breathing.

KZ

A Random List

• Much like Alicia Bridges, I too like the nightlife. I too like to boogie.
• Hey, bitches: stop borrowing each other's pants! And stop charging money for people to watch that shit.
• I've never wanted to start smoking again like I did when I watched those cats smoke that "cross joint" in Pineapple Express.
  
• I'm no longer in a position to rail against stupidity. I've met the enemy, and he is me.
• I love being left alone. People really get mad at you when you don't "bother" them for long stretches of time. I wouldn't be offended, but my friends are salty.
• I should be in NYC hangin' with Miss Ahmad. I really should.
  
• I need some fucking perks. Somethin'.
• Gotdamn, hip hop sucks.
  
• I have sent out resumes almost every day for 3 months. I haven't had a single fucking call or interview in that time. Not one. Man, fuck.
• Oreos, muthafucka.
  

Malnutrition

My ego is pretty big. Most of the time, I try to be self-deprecating just so I'll come off as less of an asshole, but really I think pretty highly of myself. Sometimes it's hard to come to grips with the reality that maybe, just maybe, you're not all that you think you are to all people.

Case in point, we're in the middle of planning this wedding. I'm not so much into the wedding thing, but I'm in the "go along to get along" phase. Whatever'll make this thing go, I'm with it. Everybody in the world knows that a woman's wedding is something she's thought about and pictured for many, many years. She has a vision and she'll try to match that vision the best way she can. Everybody in and around the wedding have been selected for years in advance. Everybody except the groom, that is. That's the interchangeable piece. The groom is just whatever African happened to pop the question. The wedding doesn't change one iota to fit a groom's personality or ideals. Most dudes laugh that shit off. I did as well. It got less funny the more I thought about it though, a lot less funny. That's ego.

This could very well be Joe, Jake, or Johnny's wedding. One monkey don't stop no show. Who gives a fuck who the groom is?

In the meantime I gotta get pep talks from my biggest fans (my mother and Three) just to keep my ego fed. That's kinda fucked up, but it's true.

This wedding thing is like a force of nature. I'mma go find some shelter.

Peace,
KZ

When Has It Ever Worked?

"Hey baby, why you lookin' so mean?"

Muthafuckas make me laugh. Game is a lost art. I used to have it. I haven't had it in a minute or two. I don't need it now, but damn, it would be nice to have.

"You lookin' good girl!"

I'll bet she is, fella. I'll bet she is. But is yelling that as she strides purposefully with her 5 friends to get in line for this party gonna get her to stop? Nope. Next time try laying a 10 dollar bill in the street and saying "Miss, you dropped this!"

My boy Three told me something a long time ago that makes all the sense in the world. I don't know if it really works, because I'd only tried it with female friends and not "prospects". He said "Compliment a woman the way another woman would and she'll be more responsive." He didn't say it quite like that, because Three is kinda illiterate, but you get the idea. "I like your shoes." "I like that color on you." Instead of "DAMN, you got a big ole ass!", which was my preferred expression. I really gotta ask Three if his bullshit method ever worked.

"Ay, sweetheart, lemme holla at you a minute."

Probably the most subtle shit I've heard today. It's not overly aggressive but it's still pretty ignorant. If she stops, you got an even shot. If not? Sucks to be you. I say work on your shit a little more and come back a little harder than that.

My shit was always situational. I had these scenarios worked out for all these different situations. If she's standing here, then I'll comment on that. If she's doing that, I'll do this and then we'll cross paths. It's laughable that shit that worked well.

To the cats that still think this shit is fun, I salute you. But you gotta fuckin' do better than this!

Peace,
KZ

Childlike Wonder

As jaded as I am, I'm still amazed by many things in this world. Most of my amazement stems at how stupid people are, so I'm not sure that counts. All I know is people in general are stupid and/or ballsy.

John Edwards was running for President. He was my preferred candidate, because of his ideas on health care reform. You see, that's my big issue. People have to stick with shitty gigs because they need the health care. I think people are happier and, of course, healthier, if getting health care wasn't dependent on the beneficence (or lack thereof) of industry. Chase your dreams and fuck the benefits package.

John Edwards has been fucking around on his wife. Once again, I'm not amazed, but this shit is SOOOO blatant, and has been talked about in hushed tones for the entire campaign, I couldn't believe it's just now getting run. That's not even the half. This muthafucka made a baby with the mistress.

If he was ever gonna get back in the saddle for that number 2 slot, it's effectively done. Thanks, Haircut.

I've talked about running for office, but my skeletons run deep. After this shit, my little skeletons seem like a single bone (literally!!!). The more politicians fuck up on a large scale, my shit looks more and more petty.

I'm counting on more amazing displays of stupidity. It keeps me young.

KZ

Let's All Be Dumb

My assistant sent out an email yesterday reminding the secretaries to watch their timeliness when arriving at work, that the public expects them to be there at the reception desk at 8:00 am. My secretary sent him a scathing reply, telling him she didn't like being included in an email admonishing bad behavior, especially since she wasn't a tardy person EVER.

She told me about the email she sent back to my assistant. I asked her why she sent it. She told me that she didn't like being included in the email. I told her it was a blanket email and that she should disregard anything that didn't apply to her. She was beside herself with anger. The ideal that someone would impugn her good name by including her on that email. No one sends her emails that commend her on coming in early. The nerve of us!!! Crazy bitch.

There's this cat in the town over that's just running through hoes, one after the other, just bangin' 'em out. The women are enthralled because he's got a lot of style and he's a DOCTOR!!! OMG, a single black doctor! Wait, you say he's a chiropractor? So he's only a "doctor". They are impressed by a gotdamn "doctor". He might as well be a cop or a cashier. Fucking lunatics.

This place in general makes me wanna take my life with a bullet to the temple. Just blow my own fucking head clean off.

KZ

It's Movietime Again!

Yo, I went to the movies this weekend and I had a lot of fun. That's pretty unusual for me. I hate theaters and sticky floors (self-created floors excluded) but I had a lot of fun sitting in darkness for 2+ hours watching Batman Gets His Ass Acted Off The Screen By A Dead Guy. Seriously, fuck hype, but He.ath Le.dger Deserves the next Best Actor Oscar, plus the one after that for good measure. You know any good magic tricks? Fuck!

Anyway, this weekend got me in the mood to write again. I don't have anything worth a damn, just some ideas that might work in a serviceable movie.

Like, you ever seen one of those movies where someone gets shot in the heart, but they have something covering their hearts that keep them from getting killed? Like the bastard has a lead covered bible in his breast pocket or something? Well I'd like to have a scene like that in the movie I write. Except where there's usually something that saves the guy my shit would make it worse. "John only got a flesh wound in the calf. Unfortunately, he was hiding nitro glycerine in his sock, so when the gunman shot him, KABOOM!!!"

Also, I want to write something about a mix of people of all nationalities, races and ages who all inhabit this finite space. They are all sentenced to die at some random time that they can't figure out, but their captor is definitely hell bent on killing them all. With this hanging over their heads, they try to find ways to gain favor with the captor so that he'll let them off the hook. They feign being selfless and kind. They try to create a positive atmosphere in the room. They try to be the most popular or the one who possesses the most things. They try a bunch of different stuff, just to show the cat that's watching them that they should be spared. Then they find out a cruel twist. There's nothing they can do to be spared. I'd call this movie "Life On Earth". The funny thing about it we're all in that movie RIGHT NOW!!! Ooooh! Deeeeep!

Man, I had fun this weekend, but in general, fuck the movies.

Peace,
KZ

Ultramagnetic KZ

I attract the weird and neurotic (no offense readers). It's just what I do. The people I make friends with or hang around with definitely have an eccentric bent. I don't think I do, but hell, I'm me. I'm not supposed to think I'm weird.

Case in point: My friend Agent Zero. She's got two shorties, ages 12 and 14, who are currently in the south visiting their father. Their deadbeat father, who has never spent ANY time with them before this summer and has never sent any cash. By whom she got pregnant the second time while engaged to somebody else. She's lamenting that he's had a vasectomy, after 7 illegitimate children. She'd like to have another child and she'd like them all to have the same father. The same deadbeat loser father.

I got another friend, Jayne Kennedy, a chick I talked about on these very pages around 2 1/2 years ago. She's trying to find her life mate. But not just any life mate. No, no, this dude has got to be GREEK, a member of the Pan-Hell. Because she's a dedicated member of her sorority and a regular cat just can't understand her and her relationship to her sorors. She is 33 years old. She's been a Greek for 12 years. It is not in the least played out for her or at least ebbed a little bit. She's on all the little Divine Nine sites and always para'ed up, 12 years later.

Lastly, I'd like to talk about Curly. This cat is never satisfied. He's marginal looking, slow witted, and has bad dental work. He's 43 years old and looking for the perfect woman. Chick after chick gets introduced to him to no avail. He claims he wants "a dime". He's a fucking nickel, and I'm being generous. The only chick he has eyes for is the chick I'm with. I'm sorry to tell him(actually I'm not) it's too late for him and her. But I'll let him keep bitching about what's not out there and stop trying to lead that horse to water.

I'd be less frustrated if these people didn't like me so much and want to hang around me. The thing is, as much as I try to be an island, I can't. I need in the flesh friends around me too. It just need to see what it is in me that keeps attracting the looniest people on Earth.

Peace,
KZ

The Respect Of A Lie

I've been talking a lot to my boy, Three, out in LA and I've been able to get a lot of shit off my chest. It's probably why I've been blogging less. Shit that I can't air out because of my audience I'm able to tell him and get instant feedback. It's a beautiful thing. Good ol' fashioned communication.

The one thing we talked about for a long time is the concept of respect and the different ways we demonstrate it, or lack of it, to others. Most women realize the concept of the respect of a lie. I think appreciation of the concept comes with age. They also realize when to use it themselves.

If you used to date a dude with goo-gobs of money, extremely handsome, smart, kind, fun, etc., that's cool. We get it. But if everytime you bring him up you talk about how fun, handsome and paid he was, I'mma take umbrage to that shit. I'mma say go back to that muthafucka if he'll take you. Because you sound like you settlin' for me. And what the fuck do I want with a loser that can't keep a man she REALLY likes?

For instance, I used to date many, many women that were beautiful, extremely fit, sexy and eager to fuck. But I don't talk about it (person to person at least) unless prompted. And even then I'll temper my response.

Here's where the respect of a lie comes in. The times we had will always be clarified as "a-ight" or "straight", perhaps even "cool". But they won't be "oh my god we had sooooo much fun, she was the best!!!" I respect you enough to lie.

I extend that respect to when I'm being bored to death by the one-hundredth telling of the story about the one time your Uncle Skeet bought a 10-cent pickle for 5-cents. I extend it to when you talk about shoes, hats, fancy soap, Oprah, Tyler Perry or Grey's Anatomy. You extend it me when I talk about Iron Man, the NFL, barber shop talk, my boys, or The Wire.

Conceptually, it's very simple. It's much harder in practice. But make no mistake, it is respect.

KZ

Back To Hell

One week in the D has taught me a few things. Sphincter control must be practiced while masturbating. Old friends are sometimes just friends from a long time ago. Good customer service is STILL not an African American virtue. Sex appeal and lack of modesty are not one in the same. Girls with big asses don't automatically know how to clap it, it's still got to be practiced. Six foot three and a half inches, 300 pounds still make a black man invisible to white people, except when standing behind them at an ATM or walking on a dark street. There is no such thing as enough corruption. It's hard for a man to be ultra-masculine on a merry go round.

I'm back, boys and girls. Back to this meaningless, bullshit gig I complain about with no end in sight. At least my boss is gone for the week so I get to do TWO jobs I hate instead of the one. Lucky, lucky me.

Be cool, alright?

KZ

John Cougar Summercamp

Well it's Friday. I don't have to come back to this god-forsaken hell hole until July 7th. I get to relax on the sunny shores of Crime Village for 10 days because airline fares are off the fucking chain. But at least I won't be here. At the very least.

Sometimes I wonder if I'm too fucked up to be a success. I mean a REAL success. I hate dealing with people and I have lots of patience issues. I get presented with opportunities and I'm too lazy to follow through. I'm in the midst of that right now.

People call me and they always want something. I'm too fucking lazy to be the point person for anything. Phone calls make me sleepy. Bitchin' ass people make me ill.

Every gig I'm at I feel an overwhelming need to get the fuck out of it as soon as possible. In this economy it's not working like I'd like it too, so I feel even more stuck.

I'll take next week off and relax somewhat, though wedding planning will be going on all around me. Try to do something in Detroit that Vegas, with the 1,000 conference sessions I had to attend, couldn't do: take my mind off this fucking job.

See Y'all Later,
KZ

NASA

"I'm no rocket scientist...."

I can't tell you how many times I've started sentences like this, but I might be wrong. How can everybody else be so fucking dumb, so petty, so fucking backwards....

I can't fucking listen anymore. My ears are hard. My heart is empty. Fuck your city. Fuck your problems.

You are slowly but surely making me rethinking my whole career. This isn't what I've signed up for. Not by a long shot.

Don't let poor people live near my house, but please Satan's Anus, build a dog park for Ranger. He loves to frolic.

Don't increase your tax base by selling the property by mine to a developer, but please provide us with more amenities. I don't give a fuck how you pay for them, just don't raise my taxes.

Why come talk to me about my opinions if you won't do what I say, regardless of how counterintuitive it is?

Man, fuck y'all. Fuck all of y'all. It looks like I'm stuck with y'all for the time being. But still, fuck y'all.

KZ

Eukanuba

Today is another one of those days. My boss called in today and decided he'd like to spend this glorious day at home with his wife (who's a teacher and off for the summer) and kids (who are...kids, and off for the summer). That leaves me in charge. What that means is I inherit meetings and shit. Responsibility, I got in scads, but meetings I generally avoid, as you readers already know.

I didn't know he wasn't coming in. I didn't know until I turned on my computer today and read the email from him. Today started off badly anyway. I got here at around 9. Work starts at 8. I woke up at 8:30, so I think that's pretty good to get here and 9 and not smell like ass and feet. The thing is people think they NEED everything from the boss. We have an amazing dearth of self starters here, so when I walk in, it's like "Finally, I can be instructed on if and when to breathe." Gosh, I hate these bastards.

The trivial becomes necessary and the necessary becomes an emergency. The questions become dumber.

Peace,
KZ

P.S. Ladies, don't ask me if I'm getting nervous about getting married. The analogy? Say you're about to fuck a dude for the first time. He's about to penetrate, you look down and realize he has four more inches of dick than you've ever taken in your life. Either you can balk and say "Fuck that, he's not putting that monster in me!" Or you can relish the opportunity as a new experience that you might just enjoy. It's not about nerves, it's about being ready for what life holds for you.

Until Somebody Stops Me (The Donut Day edition)

Derision
Look at you. Yeah, eat it up. You fuckin' Wal-Mart shopping loser. I'll stand by and make small talk with you, all the while trying to hide my scorn behind this venti cup of latte. That's right. Enjoy those fucking donuts while I fuck you out of your labor rights.

Pandering
"Why, you're welcome! It's the least I can do for such a hard working staff." False fucking flattery to you dime a dozen muthafuckas. You're cheaper than those donuts!!!! Is this the shit that makes you happy? Me deigning to talk to you mouth breathing bastards? Hunh?

Bold Face Lies
"Of course I'm working to get you more money. You deserve it. Irreplaceable you. Here, have another donut."

False Camaraderie
Yeah, sure. I know exactly what you're going through. I know what it's like to be a sad, sad motherfucker with no marketable skills whatsoever. I also know what it's like to overvalue my importance to a bureaucratic machine, set up for "replacing missing cogs". Yeah. I'm right with you. Look, we're bonding!

Underlying Impatience
"Um, are we finished with the donuts yet? I gotta get back to work. Yeah, I know. I enjoyed this chance to chat too. But duty calls. Ha, ha. Get it? Duty? Doody? This work is like shit! Ha, ha!"

I might have a future as a politician yet.

Be Cool,
KZ

No One Hates Brooklyn More Than Me

I love weekends where there's nothing to do but lie around without power. It's actually one of my favorite things, unless of course I want to eat the food that's in my own house. But that's another story. This weekend was actually the weekend I needed, one where I got to navel gaze and ignore the outside world. Where I got to think about me and what I want.

You wanna know what it is that I want? More sleep. All the time. More fucking sleep.

I wish I was an instructor at a girls school. Not a teen girl school, I'm not lookin' for no pervy shit to go down, but a younger girls school. One of the first things I'd let them know is there's a cut off date for using a baby voice to get what you want. And there's also a short list of people that shit will work on. If you're in your twenties or thirties, it will only work with people that want to fuck you. There is no power in appropriating a baby voice outside of that.

What is an art fair that has only two tents with art for sale? Bullshit is what I'd call it, but that's just me. I basically ate an elephant ear and kept it movin'. Fucking fake art fair.

I'm supposed to be thankful to have a job, right? Remind me why again.

Be Easy,
KZ

Consolation Prize

It's not the NBA Championship, but fuck it, I'll take it.

My Negro Problem

I've basically been dealing with an increased case of snobbishness for the past few months. I don't know where it's come from, but I'm dealing with Uppity African syndrome and I don't know how to shake it.

I'm no elitist. I come from a blue collar background, with only me and one of my sisters as college grads. My high school was consistently rated last in academic achievement behind the 27 other schools. I'm from the east side of Detroit and went to the "other school" in the state of Michigan. I'm a slob and a ignoramus, but that doesn't stop me from looking down my nose at some other people.

I know this chick that's out of work and she was asking me if I knew of any jobs available. She's looking for some sort of management position. I was instantly offended. What the fuck kind of circle do I run in that I can get a job for a chick that's 10 credits short of a general business degree from The University of Phoenix? I really have no right to try to bag on anybody's self improvement, and virtual campuses are an innovative concept, but fuck that, really. Ain't nobody lettin' you manage shit but a Chicken Shack if that's your primary degree. And that shit hasn't even been obtained yet.

Another person asked me about getting a relative of theirs involved in the work I do. I asked what their major was and got the response that they only had a high school diploma. Muthafucka, that African can clean up the office after the professionals leave.

My problem is inherently a negro problem. We still don't know how the game is played. Certain credentials are "needed" for certain work. I'm not saying that my job can't be done by a grade schooler, but the fact is no one will hire one to do the work.

There are a ton of jobs that take shit like hard work, talent, family connections, etc. to get to a position of power. Those jobs are usually in the entertainment and athletic arenas. All the gigs I know about throw around bullshit about "schooling" and "certification" and "competency". Assholes!

I just wish Africans would stop thinking that a good word from Big Zed is gonna make "the man" forget that credential barrier that he put up to keep us out in the first place. That's all I'm sayin'.

Peace,
KZ

Gooses

It is finally Friday. The weekend couldn't come quick enough. Mind you, this was a short work week anyway. It just didn't feel like it.

My staff went nuts and shit, talking about how insulted they felt because such and such got to do something and they didn't. Boo hoo, bitches.

I had paperwork like you wouldn't believe. Any entity set up NOT to make money is in for fucking problems in the first place here in America. Some people only believe in the profit motive, so for them civil service is for the birds. To navigate the waters and get things done is a miracle, if only because of all the paperwork you gotta fill out to cover you ass if you spend a nickel of the city's money. It's unbelievable how much of the same paper came across my desk to sign and re-sign for one single project. Then I had to chase down minutes to a series of meetings to prove that the expenditure was actually properly approved. Then the purchasing department hazes your ass. It's a fucking nightmare, says the guy with a masters in public administration.

Then it's the meetings. Everything's literally resolved within 12 minutes on average. Minus the small talk, what everyfuckingbody did that weekend, cute shit their kids said, good natured ribbing about somebody's dumb ass tie, the meetings would be 12 minutes. I've sat in meetings for the better part of 5 hours each 8 hour work day. If meetings actually lasted 12 minutes, I could all of them in one day and still have time to work on the shit I need to that come from the meetings. But if they wanna pay me to sit in meetings, fuck it. As a matter of fact, fuck that. I hate meetings. You can't pay me enough to enjoy 'em.

I'm glad I get to relax at the crib this weekend. TAD's coming here so I don't have to pack and drive. I will be drinking extensively though. Grey Goose and cranberry. Lots of gooses.

Peace,
KZ

Work Be Hard, Yo

When I tell you I'm trapped in a hellish cycle of getting more assignments and going to more meetings, I'm sure the absolute frustration will not register with you, dear reader.

When you're asked to go to more and more meetings, you get assigned more shit to do. The more meetings you go to, the less time you have to actually do the shit you're assigned. I'm in a situation where I can't even delegate work right now, because the shit I have to do is detail oriented. I don't trust the idiots on my staff with that level of detail. So I'm stuck. Paperwork piled to the top of my head. Shit is thick, yo.

I'm taking a break to write so y'all won't think I'm dead. Everything's still everything. Still getting married, still job hunting, still hating Satan's Anus, still not writing my book. Last weekend I came up with yet another book idea, but I forgot it. I was really excited too. That fucking sucks.

I'll write again as soon as I'm able.

Peace,
KZ

Birfday Wishes, X

Keep it moving.

Peace,
KZ

Why The Fuck Would I Be In A Good Mood?

Since 2008 started:

Number of resumes sent: 34
Number of interviews: 2
New apartments: 1
Unpacked apartments: 0
Times bad judgment exhibited by staff: 14
Times it bit me in the ass: 3
Average number of people to ask me about the wedding, daily: 3
Most days in a row drinking alcohol: 5
Number of overwhelming assignments, concurrent: 4
Average number of sexually active days per month: 3
Average times masturbated per month: 84
Average number of days worked per month: 20
Most good days in a row: 1
Number of times I've seen an actual ass in a thong: 1
Number of times I dye my goatee in a month: 4
Average number of headaches per week: 4
Weekly nacho intake, one pound bags: 2
Number of dress shirts: 27
Number of blue jeans: 2

Be Cool,
KZ

Miscellania

Big Hot Funky Shit Encrusted Mess

I was in a meeting yesterday and we had a "community activist" in the office. In this town (or in most towns, actually) that means a jobless or underemployed kook that has nothing better to do than bemoan the lack of Neighborhood Watch signs on his or her block. This lady represents her neighborhood in a paid position. All I've ever seen her do is smoke and eat. One time I came to her office to meet with her and she was sleeping HARD with her head on her desk, snoring and slobbering. She's a black lady with a short, perpetually uncombed afro that always seems to have a lint ball in the front of it. She has questionable bathing hygiene and a lack of coordination that couldn't be achieved by Stevie Wonder or the Governor of New York. Yesterday, her stankin' ass had on some manner of headwrap that would have to be seen to be believed. No, I didn't listen to the broad, I was too busy holding my breath. I have no idea what she talked about.

The Short Sleep

Is it possible for a man to die from boredom? Last night I could not fall asleep. I was awake until 4:00 am with the alarm clock set for 6:30 am. Reading boring shit didn't work. Masturbation? No thanks. My dick is currently chapped from overindulgence. Solitare, infomercials, downloading obscure hip-hop ("Come Take A Ride" from World Renown? Anyone?), nothing worked. It was finally when I thought about the prospect of another full day of meetings did I start to get sleepy. I cannot fucking wait for the opportunity to control my calendar without interference from the boss.

Human (The Shep Pettibone Remix)

Last Thursday, I was out with some friends, drankin' and shit. This friend of a friend who I'd just met started asking me about what I do. It turns out she knew my boss. So she asked me if he was fucking his assistant. I laughed. You would too if you knew the kind of corny milquetoast assed dude he is. But of course I don't really put shit past anybody, so I stopped laughing and told her I didn't think so. She told me about being at a meeting with the two of them and he was openly glaring into her low cut blouse. I really blew that shit off. I'd never seen him publicly acknowledge a sexual impulse. Not an offhanded remark, nothing, in nearly 3 years. I shrugged it off and didn't mention that conversation to a single soul.

So today I came in my office from a meeting with my boss and Auntie Anita was in there waiting for me to return. I asked her what was up. She said "You wanna know something crazy? I was in a meeting yesterday with Allan and he kept looking down my shirt." I laughed hard. Boy, did I laugh. Three years of nothing and now I've heard two accounts of horndogism in the span of less than a week. I don't begrudge him that. He's 42 years old and has been married to his high school sweetheart since 1990. Let him look. He just has to be a little slicker about it. At least now I know this cat is human.

Flat Randy

Randall will be headed to Cleveland today. You can look for his exploits on Monie's page at http://monieinthemiddle.blogspot.com/

Take some good photos, Monie. And don't let him eat dairy. He's lactose intolerant.

Peace,
KZ

The Case FOR Strip Clubs

How much is it worth to you to fucking relax? How much is it worth to the average man to spend money on a woman and have her work to entertain YOU? How much would you spend to have a woman pretend to be happy to see you every time you walk through the door? What's it worth to have a real live ass in a real live thong clapping in your face at your command, young fella?

That's what it means to go to a strip club. It took a long weekend of drinking, smoking and in general, thinking, to come to the conclusion that all my scorn and derision towards strippers and strip club patrons is misplaced. It's actually a beautiful, symbiotic relationship.

Those broads need and want money. Their asset? A gigantic ass/a set of enormous kegs. These dudes are usually in a home routine that consists of half listening to their significant others, ignoring their kids, and basically dropping off a paycheck every two weeks from a job they fucking hate. The wife, after a hard day at work, is not in the mood to entertain this cat. She's still busy at home. When it's bedtime, she's putting on some flannels, some giant fucking drawers, and a set of rollers. Ain't no clappin' happenin', Captain. That's where the strip club comes in.

For a fairly reasonable amount of money both parties walk away happy. Even if I don't patronize them, I think I'll stop being so hard on the cats that do and the women that work there. Both are necessary.

Be Cool,
KZ

I'm Finally Bored Enough To Write About This

So, TAD and I traveled to Vegas a couple of Saturdays ago. It was both our first times going to Vegas, and even though we don't gamble at all, we thought there would be enough other shit to keep us occupied. Like each others sexual organs, alcohol, and general debauched atmosphere. One out of three is pretty bad, yo.

Before we knew better

The accommodations? Extra feeble and wack. We stayed at The Luxor, which must be Egyptian (Arabic?) for Cheese.















They had fucked up elevators called "inclinators" because they went up on an incline. Just enough to make drunk people earl in 'em and to make someone going to a conference at 8:00 am every morning have to step around earl. Nice touch, Luxor. Actually the only good thing about it was the view of the mountains from our window.



We had a chance to walk down the Strip. The Luxor was at the end of the Strip, so the walk was long just to get to mainstream shit like Bally's or the MGM.

Two popular attractions: Cartoon, Cartoon and the Abused MGM Lion with hepatitis

Honestly, I didn't have one drink and TAD only had one. My mood was befouled by pint-sized Mexicans handing out unwanted flyers for poison pussy and loud, fat, stupid, unseemly hicks from every corner of the gotdamn globe. Hers was befouled from having to deal with my grouchy ass. Vegas is fucking filthy. I'm saying that shit and I'm from DETROIT!!!

Vegas is boring and gay, just like Siegfried and Roy

Honest to goodness, there were only 3 good things about that godforsaken town.

The Bellagio lobby, the view from the Venetian balcony, and the Wynn buffet and waterfall

Yeah, we got pics to show people so we can lie about how much fun we had, but we know the truth. I wish AJ had gotten a chance to check us out and show us the ropes, but I hated that shit as we explored on our own.





















Fuck Vegas,
KZ

P.S. The first blogger to send me an email at dabigplanet@hotmail.com gets Flat Randy. I tried to decide amongst y'all, but I couldn't think of a fair way to do it.

"Man, Fuck That Place!"

Randall and TAD, pre-trip; Detroit, MI

Randall, The Strip; Las Vegas, NV
Randall, Riding the bus to Fremont Street; Las Vegas, NV


"How come we surrounded by old people and Asians?"


No, Randy, you can't borrow a dollar.



Randy doesn't like EVERYTHING flat!!!

Me and Flat Randy did what we could do in that fucking wasteland of Las Vegas, but it didn't amount to much. He deserves better.

If there is anyone, anywhere in America who wants to take Flat Randy and show him a good time, by all means, let me know. Just make sure you post the pics and send him to another blogger.

Be Cool,
KZ

Pussies

I'm more reinforced in my contention that I hate not only my profession, but the people in it. The fucking meaningless jargon, the affects, the way they dress, pronounce shit, and stand. The aloofness and the know-it-all-ousity. The fucking brainless way our professional association keeps shoving "the important things" down our throats.

Another thing. I used to talk about this a lot to my colleagues, but I'd toned down my denunciations: most of these cats are effeminate. The women are...well, boring and icy, and the men any flamy and shit.

The conference is over and I'm sitting in the airport, waiting to crash into a mountain. I just wanted to post while this shit is fresh in my mind, and I'll wait to actually talk about me, TAD and Vegas. One thing I want noted is I'll probably be unable to eat at another buffet for the rest of my life.

Be Cool,
KZ

Sin City

As luck would have it, me and TAD are both going to Las Vegas tomorrow. We're both going for work reasons, me for a conference and she for training. So we get a vacation on each of our company's dimes. Nice timing, I say.

Sidenote: To AJ and BBB, I'm taking Flat Randy to Vegas. I don't know if I'm taking pictures, because what happens there stays there.

TAD is returning on Wednesday and I'll be there until Thursday, so you know what that means. Gambling in a tux, strippers, hookers, and coke on Wednesday night!!! Whoooo-hoooo!!!

Anyway, it's good to have a week off going someplace I've never been, even though I'll be in sessions all day e'rr day. It's good to be with TAD for an extended period of time too. Maybe I'll even get a change to partake in some hedonistic nakedness. Only time will tell.

I'll likely blog from the spot and give you my impressions of what's what.

Man, I really need this!

Peace,
KZ

Things You Need To Know But Nobody Will Tell You

• People resent the fuck out of you because of guilt. You just being around is a constant reminder of their inadequacy. There is no form of imitation or ingratiation that you can perform to make them forget that you are unalike and therefore you are inferior.

• Sex in and of itself is just OK. You should to understand how the things you do affect the other person and what brings you the most pleasure. Pussy or dick is not inherently good. You should pay attention to your body and learn about your partner. Lying there and making yourself available is not enough. In other words, learn to fuck.

• Boredom is a function of yourself. If you are constantly bored, you are constantly boring. Get interesting by any means necessary.

• Stop asking questions you know the answer to. "Was that stupid?" "Should I fuck her?" "Is this too tight?" "Would you have lent him the money?"

• Do not ever believe that someone has your best interest at heart for an unselfish reason. It all goes back to how they'll feel if they don't try to steer you in the right direction. So fuck 'em.

• There is nothing more attractive than a person that lets it be known that they are completely secure in being off limits to you forever. One becomes irresistible.
  

• You can have two dicks, one above the other, both 10+ inches and a billion dollars in the bank, tax free. You can have intellect, style, finesse, be rugged, adventurous, handsome and forever young. You can be tough and sensitive, come "off the top" with a flawless freestyle, sing like an angel, and play jazz, blues, rock, pop, and R&B on any instrument in the world. But you can always get your other half snatched by a toothless, half-witted, penniless idiot. Why? Because it's all about DIFFERENCE, not quality.

You muthafuckas be cool.

KZ

On Behalf Of Detroit

I'm writing this on behalf of the city of my birth, because in the many months prior to this, I've not seen one cogent defense of my city. People who write about it have never lived there or if they have, they've often lived on the outskirts of the city. I've had a 34 year history of living in the city and attending Detroit Public Schools for my entire K-12 experience. I've never been to a magnet school or otherwise "gifted and talented" program. I'm just a regular muthafucka with the majority of my life spent in the city's boundaries.

I've heard silly muthafuckas talk about the deserted nature of the city, the desolate nature of the neighborhoods and downtown, the economic abandonment, the political mismanagement, and the scapegoating that often epitomizes discourse in the city. I'm not writing to apologize for any of it, because there is truth and elements of the truth in all of it.

The City of Detroit is not the mayor, nor is it the city council. It is not the schools nor the transportation system. It is not the loudest person at the public meeting nor is it the homeless mental patient wandering the street.

Detroit, by and large, is a product of it's people. Detroit is this nation's id. It is unadulterated emotion and passion. I'm not afraid of the city. I am the city.

The City of Detroit consists of the largest majority African American city in the nation. It shares a border with Windsor, Ontario and is home to the largest border crossing responsible for the transporting of goods in North America. There is also the home of the gateway to all of the Great Lakes, The Detroit River.

By playing up the first part, largest majority African American city in the nation, there are hopes that the other parts are forgotten. See, the other parts of the equation make Detroit extremely valuable real estate. The longest devaluing campaign in the history of this nation is being enacted right before our eyes. The less value we, the owners, see in the city, the less we'll be willing to sell for. People with means will buy for cheap, and build value into the property we gave away for peanuts. Detroit is both not as bad as you've been led to believe and in worst shape that you've been led to believe, all at the same time.

I believe the mayor is a performance artist, creating a situation where public opinion will move to such a position that the only way the residents believe they can be "saved" is through electing a mayor that doesn't look like them. I believe that what we are seeing is the packaging of one of the largest land swindles in the history of the United States. Call me a conspiracy theorist, but I've seen it close up. I've never witnessed such a willingness to destroy something that you claim you love in all my life, by all the "important" players.

I'm watching residents be willfully dumb, willfully uneducated, and willfully manipulated because they are too lazy to do their homework. Or those are at least the ones who get to speak on camera.

You don't have to like Detroit or live in Detroit. But know of what you speak before you speak on my shit.

KZ

Quaker Notes

Yo, I was awaken at 5:40 am by a violent shaking of my entire abode. I woke up and looked out of the window, thinking I'd see the footprint of a 10,000 foot tall Jesus coming to reap souls. When I saw nothing, I went back to bed. Fuck it. I'll die another day.

The thing about the Midwest is that we supposedly traded safety from earthquakes for massive amounts of snow and cold. Now I see that that trade is bullshit. Fuck getting snow and cold AND earthquakes. Why the fuck do I live here again?

New shit for me to hate. Ready?

Muthafuckas with honorary Ph.Ds insisting on being called "Doctor".
Whiny politicians. Male, female, black or white. You asked for this shit.
Apathy, entitlement and complacency in all its forms.
The fucking earth moving because of something other than great sex.
The Purchasing Department of any municipal entity.
People who act like that big fucking scar on Tina Fey's face doesn't exist.
Rumpelstiltskin.
Two hour drives to civilization.

Peace,
KZ

Punk Bitches and Declarative Statements

G'day folks. I'm prepping to enter another meeting today hoping it's less like most of my meetings. It won't be different, but at least I can hope.

My least favorite part of the meeting is the inevitable chiming in of "the smart people". You see, I go through most of these meeting shutting the fuck up. I don't wanna be there, I don't have anything to contribute, I'm here because I was asked to, so why the fuck should I talk? If I want to know anything from anybody, I'll email them. I don't need to sit face to face with anybody to get information. But the smart people definitely want you to know they're always thinking. They gotta let you know they've framed the discussion for you, to make things easier for the bosses and other less smart people. My boss is a good one for this shit.

"We're doing important work here and it's good that people want to work with us."

What the fuck does that mean? Actually, I get what it means, but why was it said? For what reason? To let people know they do important work? To let them know that people want to work with us? Or is it to declare that you have a big picture understanding of the project we're discussing? I think it's the latter, because that statement does ABSO-FUCKING-LUTELY nothing to add to the quality of the discussion or the information sharing that's going on.

"We are focused on our goals and ready for the next steps, whatever they may be."

What? Man, fuck you. We convened a gotdamn meeting so you could practice your empty fucking platitudes, you bifocaled demi-male? I gotta get back online. I gotta finish reading some shit on Gawker. com

You can keep your framing shit. I'm too fucking lazy to be inspired by empty rhetoric.

KZ

Hooterville

When I wake up on a weekday here in Satan's Anus, I know one thing will happen for sure: I will be angry before I reach my morning destination.

There is no real "rush hour" here. Maybe rush quarter-hour. But that doesn't make driving any less stressful. There are several enemies I've identified. I hate Cotton-head, the bastard with the full head of white hair and wrinkles who is driving around at the crack of dawn for the fuck of it because apparently they have no place to go. Slow driving, two hands on the wheel looking confused and squinting because of the sun in their face. I fucking hate SUV Hillary, who feels safe in her quasi tank all the while making the world less safe. She's driving 2 miles an hour and when I eventually pass her, she's got a phone pushed up to the side of her face, likely talking to the motherfucker she's married to about some petty assed suburban concern of hers, making him regret that cell phones were ever invented. I hate Greenpeace, the slow driving hippie pothead with the Darwin fish plastered on his Subaru and his numerous stickers proclaiming his love for all things eco-friendly. Catch the fucking bus, you fucking burnout.

My unlikely ally in this trek is the NASCAR loving, pickup truck driving, flag waving, Calvin pissin', ribbon sporting hick. Those muthafuckers just drive. I can't complain about that. They apparently have someplace to go just like I do.

I drive on a 5 lane road, two lanes each way with a turning lane, speed limit 50 miles per hour. There have been times too numerous to count where I've been stuck behind a vehicle going 15 miles below the speed limit and found myself trapped because the driver in the next lane is driving DIRECTLY BESIDE ME with no cars in front or in back of him impeding his progress. I have been a victim on numerous occasions of people who stop DURING RUSH QUARTER in the left thru-traffic lane to make a left turn, stopping all traffic behind them, when THERE IS A LEFT TURNING LANE RIGHT NEXT TO THEM UNUSED!!! As insane as that shit sounds, it's not a rare occurrence.


Tomorrow, I will be angry when I come to work. And you'll know why.

Peace,
KZ

The Good Kind

The President of the Fo.rmula O.ne racing association is in a bit of hot water lately. M.ax Mo.sely, it appears, gets his rocks off participating in orgies where everyone is dressed in Na.zi regalia. The international racing world is aghast and up in arms about this fetish and is vehemently denouncing Mo.sely. Is dressing up in N.azi regalia a contemptible act in and of itself because of their atrocities? Or is it that he might identify with being a N.azi in some way that might make him reprehensible in polite circles? Or is it the overall weirdness of his fetish?

Everybody's asking him to step down and he refuses. I agree with him.

I've seen "mainstream" pornography that shows not only this fetish being acted out, but muthafuckas in Klan uniforms in interracial sex acts. These aren't new films, but at least 20 years old. These fetishes are no more rare than a S&M fetish. Both use a person's mind as the main sexual organ. The thing that keeps sex fresh is the idea of doing something that's forbidden. Regular sex is great, but if you wear a damn swa.stika armband while plowing your old lady, now you're a bad ass doing something naughty. It's all just sex. These critics are trying to play mind police. If he was heading up a Na.zi rally or espousing racially intolerant views, or harming someone because they lacked "pure Aryan blood", that's one thing. But getting one's rocks off is quite another.

If a black woman gets into a relationship with a white man and they decide they'd like to play a "Massa-Slave" game to get off, no matter how distasteful I think it is or how disrespectful I think it is to the memory of those who had to endure that terrible institution, it's none of my fucking business. Two people who have the same fetish have found each other and they have wonderful sex because of it. Congratulations you crazy kids!

People need to stay the fuck out other people's business. Your "sanctioned sex" isn't the only good kind.

Peace,
KZ

My Shit's Still Big and Veiny Like Gerald McRaney

• This dude, advice giver, perm wearer says to me after he stops me leaving a convenience store, says "I like your haircut, it becomes you more than that other style". Thank you perm wearer. Thank you for your compliment on my new hairstyle, perm wearer. I'll be sure to seek out your sartorial advice as I make other changes in my life.

• I spent this week interviewing potential consultants for this big project the city is about to embark on. The consultants are coming in to do the job I do, but of course I don't have the internal capacity to do it. My staff is too small and inexperienced. We had a large panel of stakeholders in on the interviews. Each of these teams had about 5-7 people attend the interviews. One of our stakeholders, after the last interview asks me "Are you the only Black person in your line of work in the State of Michigan?" I laughed. "No, far from it, but I'm glad I'm not the only one who noticed." No, white lady, I'm not the only one, but hiring practices make it look like it most of the time.
  

• I wanna fire my cleaners. Every time I get back a suit or a shirt these days, it has shrunk. No, wait a minute. My bad. My ass is getting fatter. I didn't think it was possible, but it's happening. I think it might be a function of extreme unhappiness, caused by a lack of proximity to my woman and other civilization. I'll be on the track after work today. Fuck this.
  

• Sometimes I just wanna pelt muthafuckas with rotten fruit. Not to punish 'em for any particular offense, but just because. "Why the fuck you look like that?" "What you smilin' for?" "How come your woman's teeth so crooked?" I just wanna fucking inundate them muthafuckas with far flung rage!
  

Other than this shit, there's really nothing going on.

Peace,
KZ

I Know, I Know...

...I complain incessantly about the same shit. But I'm stuck in this fucking infinite loop, so you should be too.

I'm sitting at the city commission meeting last night, for no good reason. Really it's just in case some mental patient in the audience accuses you, as a department head, of doing something to them. Then one of the commissioners will call you out personally, and then the city manager will ask you to defend you self against some indefensible allegation, all played out on cable access for the masses.

So when the crazy lady jumps up and says "I was wrongly punished by the police for blaise splee, and neighborhood association is spying on me, plus it's run by crackheads. In addition, the president of the neighborhood association, Joanna Tisdale, is just mad because her daughter, Leanna got molested and now she's all messed up. Also, the chief of police is having sex with the judge that convicted me of wrongdoing, they colluded to have me punished. I'm a woman of God and I know that I'll be vindicated."

The thing is the chief in question was "asked to retire" a few months ago under suspicious circumstances. What do you say to that if you're the interim chief? I've been in this position before, accused of some outrageous shit by proxy at an extremely public meeting. But I've never been called to answer for it on the spot. That is the modus operandi for the city commission. They want an answer right then and there.

Luckily they let the rant go without asking for an answer, so the interim chief was spared. But what about the old chief, who lives in the community, who has to hear shit like this bandied about without an opportunity to have his say? Or the neighborhood association president? Or her daughter? If I was any of them, I'd seek her out and choke that bitch to sleep. Who the fuck wants to hear the truth when the lie is so sordid.

I fucking hate these meetings.

KZ

What's So Funny?

Patrice Oneal. Remember the name. Or don't. Fuck it. It's your loss.

I went to see this cat on Friday night at the little Satan's Anus Comedy Club. I went solo to the comedy club. Again. Like a gotdamn loser. Trust me, the alcohol helps. When's the last time you got CUT OFF at a high ass, two drink minimum comedy club? I didn't either, but I was close!

Anyway, I went to see Patrice Oneal because I'm a big fan of his Half Hour Comedy Special on HBO. It literally brings tears to my eyes it's so funny. There are a couple of places y'all might have seen him. He used to host the VH1 show that showed Web Clips and he was in the Cha.ppelle Show sketch "Player Hater's Ball" playing "Pit Bull". He's a very funny dude.

Once again I had to sit through the lame ass opening acts to see Patrice. Once he hit the stage, that cat was merciless. My sides were in pain from laughter. This dude's stand up is flawless. His insight into male/female relationships completely so on point, though nobody would ever have the balls to say so. It was honestly, without out a doubt the second best time I've ever had in Satan's Anus, the first being my last birthday.

After the show, he stood outside the doors shaking hands with the people who came to see him. This dude was easily 6'6". I felt like a dwarf at 6'3". I asked him about making his half hour special available and he said HBO had it on lock and wouldn't let him release it. It's really something everybody with a healthy sense of humor should see.

If he comes to your town, check him out, by all means.

Be Cool,
KZ

Vinceable!!!

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Jolts And Dolts

Well, I had my interview yesterday in the outer regions of Chicagoland. It was excruciatingly painful. Bad interview, my Africans. Bad interview.

I drove around the city for a few hours prior to the interview trying to familiarize myself with a few of the environs. All the while I kept this stinging sensation through my clavicle every few minutes. Everytime I thought about going into the interview, these sensations would run through me like a jolt. I'm the cat with the recurring dreams (fist fights, report card is coming home, sitting in class for a final exam) about lack of preparation. I was deathly afraid because I knew I was unprepared. I always count on my bullshittery to get me by, so I tend to do impromptu speeches and presentations. So far, pretty mediocre results. But I'm too lazy to prepare properly so I must not care enough to do better.

When it was finally time for the interview, they give me a written evaluation beforehand. I was supposed to write a solution to a specific problem they had in the city, based on my knowledge of the city. Hell, if it wasn't for Garmin I wouldn't even know where the city was. Now they were asking for my evaluation of one of their specific problems? Fuck this place. I wrote a flowery, bullshit filled narrative of my experience in similar situations and a rose colored guideline on how I'd get around this problem if it were mine.

When the actual interview was conducted, I was at the head of the table with seven people lobbing grenades at me. This has really been par for the course, so this didn't surprise me. This dude at the end of the table had a nervous twitch that made him blink a lot in a very distracting way, so I couldn't look at him. Then, this female homunculus who right off the bat didn't like me, started every follow up question with "So you didn't really...." "So you weren't really..." Bitch, I'm second in command of the department I'm in. No I didn't really do shit. I really delegated that shit. You are the deputy city manager. What did YOU really do? What do you really write?

When it ended they asked if I had any questions. I was just glad that shit was over. Seven people with about 10 questions each. All of 'em were basically "Can you remember an instance where you had to..." That shit is not insightful. It's grueling and fucked up. I didn't wanna ask them shit. I had a few canned responses, because at that point I really just wanted to leave. I'd be surprised if I got the job.

Be Cool,
KZ

Help Me

What the fuck do you do when your job is dragging you down? Do you quit, change jobs and start over from scratch in the same TYPE of job? Do you change careers totally and start at the bottom of a new career path? Do you shrivel up like a raisin in the sun?

I'm looking forward to finding a new job, with more juice and more money, but fuck, it'll still be the same type of job with the same type of problems and less familiarity. The truth is I don't want another job, ever. I don't want to have to work for somebody. I don't want to have to work for myself. I'd like work to be for me like leisure is for me currently, hard to fucking come by.

I've come to the conclusion that If I were to make a Venn diagram of my life, happiness and work would never overlap, though happiness and pussy overlap and in the past work and pussy have overlapped. But happiness and work? Not even close.

I'd look into vagrancy if you didn't have to go without bathing and you didn't actually talk to people, asking them for money and whatnot. I gives a fuck about this place or the next place I work.

I need loot, free and independent of effort.

Peace,
KZ

Devil In A Floral Dress

Hey kids! How's it (or they) hangin'? I hope alls well in Bloggerville Heights. Me? I'm in Satan's Anus, feeling the full wrath of workplace angst.

I was driving into work today and my cell phone rang. It was my secretary. Someone was looking for the cord that hooks the projector to the laptop. It was on my file cabinet. Easy enough to solve.

When I finally got into the office, I had literally 5 people waiting to talk to me about one issue or another. Don't fucking talk to me before my coat is off and coffee in my hand! I'm telling them to wait, hold on, I'm not ready yet. OK, let the onslaught begin.

Five people, five relatively easy answers. Go sit the fuck down!

The phone rings. And rings. And rings. Three phone calls, three questions answered.

The phone rings again. It's Wispy. I haven't have to talk to this fat bitch in a good six months. Now I'm on the phone with this land manatee, and I know it won't end well. "I need to talk you about something very important." It's never important. Not ever. "Go talk to your supervisor." "He'll just blow me off." Bitch, because it's not important!!! "Well, let me talk to him and see if it should come to my level." "Fine, I'll just go over to city hall then and talk to HR."

This is the part that makes me wish I was the director and not just deputy. I would have told that cave whore to go and tell whomever the fuck would listen to her, as long as it wasn't me. But my boss has spent his entire career here making sure shit stays "in-house", even little petty shit. So I had to respond a different way.

"OK, I have a minute right now." It was 8:40. I got in at 8:30.

So she ambles her ass past the twin obstacles of load bearing walls and donuts to make it to my office.

Artist's rendering

She starts into the diatribe about how the other managers ignore her pleas for more technical training, how she's asked for it for years and been rebuked one way or another. Then she talks about how valuable she is the the city, how she's been doing so much work above and beyond what the other "girls" do. Then Wispy begins tearing up and asking why she wasn't allowed to go to today's technical training session. It's unfair that LaVeronica gets to go, but she can't. Now I see. That African bitch gets a few hours off the phones to go learn something, I deserve AT LEAST that. I tell her "Well LaVeronica has long expressed interest in that technical training. This is the very first I've heard of you interest in any training. In fact, when I sent you to Excel training last year, you complained that I sent you to a training that you wouldn't use in your daily work. This training that LaVeronica is in would be more of the same."

She denied she said that about the Excel training and reasserted that the managers are conspiring to keep good training opportunities away from her. I told her I would see what I could do. And asked her to return to the reception desk.

There were 3 more people waiting outside in the halll to see me when she left.

Be Easy,
KZ

The Thank You Liner Notes For My Imaginary Rap Album

First of all I gotta give it up to the Lord, my wifey Landra, Koke Oliver, Charlie Hightower, my producer Neil Brackets, my n*gga Coleco, Spanish Dave, Black Dave, Ruxpin The Aggressor, Miriam Haversham, Elliot McPherson, The Homicide Machines, Penelope, Cakewalk and Tommy Acres, Maniacal Ideals, Thirsty Glenlivet and his crew, The Appletinis, Horace Machete, DJ Master Plan, DJ Obvious Choice, Vinyl Fetish, Sophia Nussbaum, The Ax Wielding Pussy Thieves, my brother Stab One, and my little cousin Percy.

Peace!

My Turn

Talking to my mother is always an experience. Not always a pleasant one, but an experience just the same. My mother wears her opinions on her sleeves, never will hold her tongue about how I'm disappointing her or making her happy. She's pretty blunt and kinda "flat out". Lately when I talk to her it's about the wedding and how the plans are going. In between that talk, I told her I was going for the interview on April 1st and that it would be a good "get".

It was with a swell of emotion as she told me how she was sure I'd do well and that she was proud of me. It was one of the saddest moments in my life.

I know this is fleeting. The older I get, the older she gets, until I don't have her anymore. Moments like these are few are far between. This is positively the last person, including my father, that will be this proud of me and demonstratively express it. She's all I got. She's genuinely excited for me, not for what it means to her or any other thing she might get out of it, she just wants me to be happy.

People take that shit for granted, but immediately when you tell someone good news, they process what it means to them and temper their responses thusly. Being happy for you is cool, but I'd rather be happy for us, or better yet, ME.

Sometimes you don't even get that. You get feigned interest and REAL excitement about an upcoming sale at Macy's and shit. Or the new Madea movie. Or the new Jordans. Or some other shit a sane person is only tangentially interested in.

My mother is getting old and so am I. Those little moments on the phone that I took with a grain of salt just a few years ago are starting to mean much more to me now.

KZ

Nuance Is Dead

Fucking Spring.

Nuance. It's an art I fear is lost on the black community. I have actually talked to people, black people, who were standoffish about Bara.ck Ob.ama because they'd gotten an email that said he was a Muslim. That was the reason for being standoffish. Not because his platform was wack or they didn't think he'd be a good leader, but because **GASP** he might be a Muslim. You dumb black motherfuckers. Never mind the fact that it's not true, but what the fuck if it is? You've had 43 "Christian" presidents. Where the fuck has it gotten you? Hunh? You got sent the email because you are dumb enough for his religion to matter to you even though you've been governed by 43 godless crackers. You even called one of these crackers an honorary "black". You lack the nuance gene, my African.

Now, since it's the Easter season, I have yet another reason to bemoan the loss of nuance. Broad acting, blatant musical cues, evil people acting overtly mean, good people being fucking angelic. Yes, Africans, it's a Tyler Perry movie!!! It's like a national holiday for subtlety and sophisticated wit. You both have a day off, Subtlety and Sophistication. Go play catch with your kids!

Fucking black people.

KZ

Spring In Satan's Anus

Gotta love Michigan.

I didn't have to work today, so yesterday was like a Friday night. I went to a comedy show, solo, to see Tr.acy M.organ. Since I was alone, it was already isolating, but the people there made it worse. I saw more black people in one place last night than I've seen in my whole time here. I tell you it made me homesick. Every African in there was overdressed and gaudy, just like Detroit. Studded leather jackets, Coogi (!) mini-dresses, sunglasses in a dark room, overpriced liquor, pretend ballers, men and women who take themselves entirely too seriously. I paid $30 to get in and there was a 2 drink minimum. I had 4 drinks, all of which I needed.

The opening acts both made jokes about the podunk nature of Satan's Anus. There was a table of "ballers" with a tub of champagne, and the mc, a Chicago comedian said "You think you Diddy? You're in Satan's Anus! You need to have a butter churn on that table!"

Once Tracy hit the stage, I needed something to make me feel up. The watered down drinks didn't do it.

It was one of the oddest spectacles I've ever experienced. He started by insisting that he would finally fuck a white girl that night. He kept this theme up by requesting a blow job from women close to the stage, then the waitresses. He then talked about having a fat dickhead and not being circumsized. He talked about fucking menstruating women and eating menstruating pussy. Then analingus, and after that, anal sex in general. He said if you let a woman stick a finger up your ass, you're ok, unless they go pass the knuckle, then you're gay. He talked about hitting the club afterwards, invited the audience out and getting some white pussy. Then he said good night. I think I laughed 4 times total.

It was still better than 98% of the outings I've been on since I've been here.

Be Cool,
KZ

O'Sick and McTired

Many of you are in hubs of civilization right in America which means only one thing: you are being inundated with St. Patty's Day revelry and shenanigans. This morning as I was coming to work I saw droves of young people piling into bars. Droves!!! At 7:30 am!!! WTF!!! I am in a college town, true enough, but still, this place has got to be atypical when it comes to imbibing at such an early hour.

That's one more thing that makes me happy I'm not as stupid as I was 15 long years ago. Shit, or 10 years ago for that matter. The only thing I regret that's missing from my youth is the ability to fuck 7 times a night and I'm sure my woman is glad that's gone. Actually the other thing I miss is black facial hair, which was gone at 25 for the most part.

I was talking to Three the other day and he lamented "It's not like we got any wiser with age. We're still the same dumb bastards we always were." I tend to agree with that shit. The only difference between my current brain function and that of a much younger person is exhaustion. I'm tired of doing the same shit, I'm not too smart to keep doing it. I'd gladly take a day off work to drink, but why would I? Who would I be drinking with? What's the purpose?

Drink up kids. One day this'll be you.

Be Easy,
KZ

Spitzer Folly

Everybody with a dick knows that Elliott Spitzer did not pay for pussy. Let me repeat this again. ELLIOTT SPITZER DID NOT PAY FOR PUSSY.

Any half way decent muthafucka can slip and fall into pussy. You don't have to be handsome, smart or rich to get pussy. You might have to be one of those things to get "quality" pussy, but trust me when I say no one has to pay for pussy.

Spitzer paid to get fucked the way he likes to get fucked, then not have to cuddle, talk about drapery patterns, and get asked when he's gonna take her out on the town. The old adage is true: you don't pay for pussy, you pay to walk away when you're done.

The hypocrisy angle is the one that'll get the most play. I fucking hate hypocrites, so he should rightfully get slammed on that. Crusade against prostitution rings and get caught patronizing one? Yeah, fuck you buddy. Fight hard against gay rights and get caught playing "Cock, Cock, Goose" in a men's restroom? Fuck you! We hear hypocrisy every day and never call muthafuckas on it. Closeted Pastors and ministers of music co-signing anti-gay propaganda in church, flag waving Presidents extolling the virtues of freedom while taking a piece of ours every day, cheating assed husbands driving around in cars with bumper stickers that say "I Love My Wife", we let that shit slide every day.


Truth be told, if he gets his ass ousted on hypocrisy alone, I don't have a problem with it. Just don't pull that bullshit about moral leadership. As long as that muthafucka paid for that shit with his own loot, that puts him one up on fucking Kwame Kilpatrick.

Peace,
KZ

Withdrawal

I suffer from all types of withdrawal. Withdrawal from TAD, anonymity, pussy, culture, griminess, fashion, style, cuisine, barbers, good employees, black people, and friends. But the shit that's the most painful right now is the pain of Wire Withdrawal.

Five fucking years of my life I dedicated to this show. I shut out everybody when I was watching it and I was well rewarded. I have now watched the final episode six times. I smile every time I see Michael or Cheese or Bubs or even Marlo. I've read anything anyone associated with the show has scribbled down. I synthesize it and become a Wire encyclopedia. I am feeling it right now. I'm in a bad place, my mellow.

I can't watch Law & Order anymore without a seething hate bubbling to the surface, let alone those fucking CSI shows. Law & Order has won fucking Emmys for some of the most facile, good guy-bad guy shit ever put to celluloid. The Wire? None. No nominations. Nothing.

I had real love hate relationships with Kima, Daniels, Carcetti, Clay Davis, Snoop, Rhonda Pearlman, and Herc. Why? Because they were complex, just like real fucking people. You like them sometimes and you dislike them other times. There are no cues to tell you who the good guys are. Who the fuck is good all the time? Who the fuck is noble all the time?

Goodbye old friends. I doubt that I'll ever see anything like you on TV again.

Peace,
KZ

Doldrums

They might as well show clips from "Soul Plane" behind Hillary's dumb ass every time she speaks. "Do you want the White House to turn into this?" I came from "Fuck bouf 'a dem" to "Fuck her" in regards to voting in November. I'll really sit this thing out for the first time in my life if she's the nominee. McCain/Clinton is not a choice. That shit is "head or gut" as we used to say. You're dead either way.

I wrote a poem to TAD today at work called "I Really Enjoy Your Vagina". It's kinda wack. It don't rhyme or nothing.

I moved into a place that doesn't come with fucking window shades. How low class is that? I got really gully and basically had curtains nailed to the windows. I finally put in blinds today. I gives a fuck where I live next, I'm taking those fucking blinds out of spite.

I'm working on a "high level" (for Satan's Anus) project that's taking a lot of my time. In the meantime I have to get all the other shit I do done. In the midst of this, I got a dumb assed secretary who everytime I give her an assignment, she asks me questions about every aspect of it. She can never be given anything and just run with it. She has to ask a million questions about the simplest shit, even shit she's done time and time again. On Wednesday that chick gave me 12 drafts of a spreadsheet I asked her to make. Not from scratch, mind you, but a modification of an existing spreadsheet. I wrote what I wanted exactly on a copy of the old one and it took her 12 times to get it "right". I put "right" in quotes because it's still not the fucking way I want it.
I've started taking duties from her and spreading it to other clerical staff and she's getting paranoid, like she's being made obsolete. Her gotdamn job is safe, the union is making sure of that. I'll have that imbecile until I leave.

I know I'm repeating myself, but fuck, I don't have a lot to write about.

KZ

Sasquatch

It's been a long couple of weeks, my Africans. Work called. I fucked around and answered the call. I've been knee deep in it ever since. I've been trying to move to, and now I've moved with a lot of help from TAD. My new place isn't a townhouse like I had been living in so it's been quite an adjustment. One less bedroom and bathroom, so I got extra leftover shit from the old place that's gotta be dealt with.

I've been in a cocoon in both my apartments for at least the past 3 weeks, emerging only to go to work. I'm bored as fuck at home.

I got one executive search firm calling my references right now, waiting to submit my info to the hiring committee of the city I'm applying to. It's all a wait and see situation.

My secretary is the dumbest bitch ever birthed from the womb of a human woman.

I wish I could smoke Djarums again. I think that might be the by product of sheer, unadulterated boredom.

Winter is almost over.

KZ