Thursday, March 30, 2006

My Feelings on a certain Lacrosse team in North Carolina

Like any blue blooded American born male who salivated like Pavlov's dog when another person got dunked on, I grew up being one of Michael Jordan's biggest fans. Besides seeing the basketball equivalent to a ballet recital that he displayed on the parkay floor regularly, there were other benefits of seeing this Baryshnikov in over-sized basketball shorts, it was one of the only times me and my father saw eye to eye on anything. Not to pull at anyones heart strings here, just being honest, but watching those Bulls' teams dismantle some miscellaneous group of pretender was the only time that I knew I wasn't going to be called "worthless" or a "complete piece of shit". The same way boyfriends and husbands might plan their schedules around their significant others "time of the month", I marked televised Bulls games on my calender because I knew, albeit for a short period of time, that I wouldn't be at the business end of a verbal reaming. On those Sundays, in my insecure and severely depressed mind, NBC provided me with a slice of Heaven so to speak.

But all of that changed suddenly, when my father very innocently said, "I wish Michael Jordan would do more for the black community?? I wish he would be out there period, he has the ability to change things solely based on how popular he is!" I don't know why I argued so forcefully, but I said, "Why does he have to?? Not everyone is built like that, you can't force someone to do something they are uncomfortable with!!" Usually a very argumentative guy, he just stood in silence shaking his head in digust, kind of like I'm doing as I type this playing back my irresponsible retort to my father in my mind.

Fast forward 15 years, multiple pounds, and a miserable blog later, I sit here thinking of a responsibility that I have at times. I mean, I don't have the world wide appeal of Michael Jordan where I address certain issues, possibly affecting someone oblivious to the situation before. Hell I don't even have the blog popularity with so many blogs immensely more popular than mine, I consider myself a mid-range blogger.(Even though, I think that some uber popular blogs are horseshit. Yes, I can be both insecure and arrogant. I'm a multi-tasker) But, if I can add a new perspective to a few souls who didn't think about it that certain way before, then I'm good.

I guess I decided to write about the horrific event that happened in a three-room rental house on the Duke University campus recently when I read some disturbing things on many irresponsible blogs, and from men I dare say are my personal friends about the incident. A plethora of neanderthal rants like "Why didn't she have security??", "She was dancing for a group of men, what did she expect??", "She should have known what she was getting into!!", and "Hey, she was butt naked!!"

Of course the obvious retort for bottom feeders like this is to explain, slowly so the unrefined mind can digest such information, that regardless of the environment or the clothing that one is wearing, there is never a justification for a sexual assault. But that's too vague, let me try another approach, some visualization if you will.

OK, How would you feel if your mother, going to her job for an honest days work had the words "Thank your grandpa for my cotton shirt!" shouted at her like the victim did when she attempted to leave when the rowdy men first started shouting racial epithets at her?

What if that was your sister who was dragged in that bathroom, the tears smearing her mascara as she fought for her life with all the energy she had, and was violated by three gentlemen in every horrific way imaginable? Would you still think she was asking for it?

What if you were the father of the victim, using your faith in god not to go and hunt the culprits down who hurt your baby girl? How would it feel to not only have that act committed against a woman you brought into this world, but to see the team band together the way they are in a code of silence? Kind of makes you want to bury the bastard who created those fucking "Stop Snitching" T-shirts huh? That's what I thought.

I guess as we sit here, 46 of the DNA samples taken from the Duke University Lacrosse team are being tested, so all we can hope for is that justice will prevail. Of course I'm skeptical it will, based on the color of the victim, what she did for a living the University involved, and the two fucking days it took for the cops to get a warrant to search the place.

But regardless of the final outcome, if all the culprits pay the highest form of punishment like we all hope, this will affect a few people for the rest of their lives. It obviously effects the victim, who has to try to live her life and somehow, unfortunately, come to grips with the fact that she was the victim of a horrific sexual assault. The neighbor who saw the victim's first attempt to leave and the commotion behind that, I'm sure if he is any sort of decent man, he will be kicking himself that he didn't call the police when the thought originally popped in his mind. I don't know how many of the 46 players are indeed racists who co-sign a rape, but I can't think that every single one of them are that way. Those persons will have to deal with the fact that they protected, regardless if they were on the same team or not, racists and rapists for the rest of their lives in some criminal act of solidarity.

Not taking any light off of the real victim, the young woman who was raped, but I can't help but to wonder what the only black member of the Lacrosse team is going through. I hope he knows that his actions now, because he hasn't spoken out yet to my knowledge, will gnaw and rot his soul for as long as his miserable soul is on this earth.

I guess my pops was right, we all have a responsibility to lend our voice to important topics. But pops, if you have high speed Internet in heaven, talking about this topic is what needed to be said. It was hardly a chore.

Wednesday, March 29, 2006

Fighting Tips from your Uncle HumanityCritic

I know that being involved in hundreds of fights during my 32 years on earth isn't particularly the most positive thing in the world, but through the wins and loses I feel that I have valuable experience that I need to pass down. The same way elder members of a family sit down around their loved ones and recall cautionary tales of what they once went through, I also envision telling my offspring the benefits of "breaking someones jaw with one punch", or how "punching some asshole with one hand and mushing his girlfriend away with the other" takes serious fucking skill. But not having any kids, that I know of, I am definitely afraid that I will never have anyone to pass this knowledge down to. I mean, on one hand it's probably a good thing that I don't have any kids because I could see myself at their playground, instigating my kid to fight by saying, 'That little bastard took your toy, break that motherfucker off son!!!!" But on the other hand, if I could contain myself enough to not raise a psychopath, I feel that my child would be well versed in the age old art of beating the breaks off someone in the name of "self defense". I thought my knowledge would be wasted, until recently..

Recently, and I don't know how to particularly feel about this, I found out that I am that "crazy friend" everyone has. For the longest time I had tricked myself into thinking I was the "funny friend", but it seems that I have cemented my spot as the "crazy friend" who sometimes tells jokes. That sucks, but I learned my new "title" when I was asked "how to fight" by two pre-teen children of some friends of mine.(I figured that both sets of parents had probably talked openly to their kids about my violent exploits) Each time, in two separate occasions, I didn't see any harm in giving these kids some advice on how to handle themselves. It was pretty innocent I thought, that was until I received two calls a week later about how their children used what I told them on some of their classmates. One of them pulling another girls hair and treating her face as a tether ball when she was being bullied, and the boy crushing a older boy in the mid-section just like Uncle HumanityCritic advised.

The sad part, because their parents are good friends of mine, I had to go to each one and tell them what I taught them was "wrong" and how they don't want to "turn out like me". Jesus Christ, it must have been the first "Scared Straight" pitch ever uttered by a man with a squeaky clean criminal record, and a Independent movie habit that induced my mother to call me a "pussy". So, because I have been unable to infect impressionable minds with my fighting experiences, I will share it with all of you. Some of you might think that my list of "fighting tips" is pointless, but I would beg to differ like a panhandling contrarian, I feel that I am passing down knowledge.

Throat-Chop: Of course many of you know this is my weapon of choice, not because I'm skilled with my hands or anything, but simply because I'm lazy. Because I don't want to end up boxing some drunk asshole in a strip-club parking lot for an hour, like we are in some bad Sylvester Stallone movie, a throat-chop cuts the monotony like a knife. It is best used on someone right in the middle of their "pre fight, tough guy" spiel. Ex. Victim: "Listen asshole, I don't care if you are HumanityCritic or not, no one talks to me..*Whap* (He clutches over, gasping for air) HumanityCritic: What were you saying again??" While he is incapacitated, you have a plethora of options at your disposal. You could: A: Administer a vicious two piece, not the kind that comedian Monique devours at a break neck speed, but severe punches. B. Walk over and talk to his girlfriend. If you think she was giving you the "eye" before, just imagine how into you she is now that you made the love of her life drop to his knees faster than Nicole Richie on a crank binge. Or C. Go through his pockets. Look, I don't need his loot or anything, but nothing is more demoralizing than having a chubby black blogger on top of you screaming "Run your shit!!" while taking off your chain and giving his money to strippers in close proximity.

Sucker Punch: Like Midget blow jobs, people really look down on this practice, but I see nothing wrong with it whatsoever. You could say that the "throat-chop" is a variety of the sucker punch, but a true sucker punch is done in a more skillful and tactical way. Case in point, a year ago the brother of girl I had once dated took offense to how I had treated her. He said, "You are foul man, you just stopped calling her and she was heart broken. What kind of man are you??" Of course he had heard only one side of the story, so you can imagine how pissed he became when I said "Did she tell you how many guys she's having sex with, that's why I left her alone. Shit, she's sexing so many guy's I wouldn't be surprised if YOU fucked her!!" Wrong move on my part because he swelled up like Jim Jones' eye when he got his ass stomped, inducing the bouncer to separate us.

Noticing that he had 4 guys with him, I knew a fair fight would end very badly for your friendly neighborhood pre-ejaculator, so a sucker punch was in order. I walked over to him while he was talking to some girl, and as I approached he said "My bad, listen..*Bap* Dropping him to his knees, leaving the girl he was talking to screaming like I had just hacked him up with a machete. Now, in hindsight, I realize that he was trying to "squash" our beef. Oh well.

Headbutt: I guess this is a pretty self explanatory one, but I have a warning that I want all of you to heed. Make sure you strike your opponent with the proper area of your head, preferably around your hairline, because if you don't you can find yourself knocked out and getting beat up by a rat pack of lesbians. Let me explain. I got into a verbal tiff with a guy who had just started dating my ex-girlfriend. I know this because he was kind of bragging to me about, which I felt was odd, so I told him "You never see a person who just purchased an old jalopy, telling the old owner, 'I have your car now, hee-hee!' Why do you think I got rid of it anyway, all the miles on that motherfucker, and it takes forever it to warm up in the morning!" He started talking trash, and was accompanied by his sister and her friends who were angry lesbians. Their sexual preference would usually be irrelevant, but they screamed "We're Lesbians son!" like they were a god-damned street gang. Anyway, I hit dude with an ill placed headbutt that knocked me and him out. The next thing I knew I was getting my ass kicked by young women who looked like Usher, Fabulous, and Phife Dawg from Tribe.

Clothesline: Possibly the sexiest move you can do to someone if done correctly. I say that because you don't know how many women I scored with simply from them witnessing me put some douche-bag on the ground in the middle of some random club.(Granted, the women were insecure, had father and abandonment issues, had certain orifices big enough to make a day room out of, and were used to dudes striking them..But ass is ass right??) But seriously, some people believe the move is better if your striking arm is totally straight, but I prefer the semi-curved affect for more power. Make sure you put your body into it, the same way you would if you attempted to throw a ball from the Outfield to home plate, making some miserable bastard leave his feet and come crashing to the ground. Try it, you might like it Mikey..

Midsection-Schmidsection: This is going to sound weird coming from a guy who is two cheeseburgers away from never being able to see his penis again, but most people have extremely weak abdominal muscles. Of course there are exceptions, but for the most part people aren't spending their valuable time doing crunches and watching "30 minute abs". I say this because a well placed stomach punch saved me from getting my ass kicked in front of a date one time. Let me explain.

I was leaving a sushi establishment, thinking about going from eating raw fish in that restaurant to eating raw fish in the apartment of the woman I was with, and some dude began to randomly talk slick shit to me. I don't know what his problem was, but since I was on a streak of victorious throat-chops and snatching chains in a demoralizing fashion, I didn't think twice about fighting this gentleman. Problem was, as I immediately found out, this guy was kicking my natural black ass. Blocking my punches, catching me cleanly with uppercuts and hay-makers, I even at one time considered just running away like Black republican do from their community. But because I was with a woman, and other witnesses were around, I fought on. So what happened was, in a stroke of genius, I acted like I was going to jab him but I caught him directly in the stomach instead. *Pow* It knocked the wind out of him, so the next few minutes were spent punching, kicking, and throwing trashcans on this guy who was kicking my ass, while screaming "You really thought you could test me in front of my girl huh?? I got a blog motherfucker, I got a blog!!!"

As my date and I got in the car I figured that she would think I was a stud, a hero, but those visions of grandeur quickly disappeared when she said, "That guy was kicking your black ass!!"

Toccara(Sorry ladies, I'm a Scumbag)

Because I have a high female readership that I respect and intend to keep, I will keep all my thoughts about this King Magazine photo of Toccara to myself. No references to "folding her up like Origami", wanting her to star in my "5 minute porn films", not even any mention of all the luscious "wagon that she's draggin'" I'll simply say what a grandmother said while clutching her chest when she overheard me call her granddaughter(my then girlfriend) a "dime-store whore". "Heavens!!!"

Tuesday, March 28, 2006

My "Inside Man" review

For anyone who knows me, or reads this horseshit blog enough to get an idea of how I am, I have always pretty much been a loner. Besides the things you obviously do by yourself like self gratification, I eat alone, go to concerts by myself, and lastly go to the movies with me, myself, and I. Not to be mean or anything, but I can't stand the cow-like chewing of popcorn, the wrestling of the armrest, and the constant "What did he say?" questions when you usually attend a flick with someone else. But this time, because an old friend of mine is an even bigger Spike Lee fan than I am, I felt he would respect the sanctity of the movie theater and not make me want to punch him in his fucking sternum. So I thought.

I picked up my friend and for the first few moments in the car we had a decent conversation going, like this possibly being Lee's most commercial flick, the great career ahead of Chiwetel Ejiofor, and who could win in a fight between Tony Soprano and Jack Bauer. Unfortunately, the last topic I named almost had me throw his ass out of my car when he asked "Who would win in a fight, Tony Soprano or jack Bauer?" But before I could answer he said, "Tony would beat Jack's ass, that's obvious!!" Giving him a puzzled look I said, "How is that "obvious"? Jack is a highly trained agent with weapons skills, and a shitload of fighting disciplines in his repertoire. If their was a contest for late night sandwich making, or cutting up a dead body, Tony would win hands down. But a fight, Jack would beat the canole out of that motherfucker!!" The next few minutes, as we approached the theater, we had a heated debate about two fictional characters that maybe a group of 7 year old's would have been interested in.

As we get to our seats, my friend calling me a "prick" and me calling him a "product of inbreeding", I seriously thought my movie going experience would be ruined due to me disobeying my "going to the movies by myself" rule. But as the movie got started I realized that I was seeing something special, quickly forgetting about my 32 year old ass having a rather adolescent argument.

This movie, definitely Lee's most commercial movie thus far, is about how a gang of masked men take over a Wall Street-style bank in what seems like a simple robbery, but quickly turns into a hostage situation. The plan, as stated by Clive Owen's character(Dalton Russell) at the beginning of the movie, has been planned with perfection. From them neutralizing the camera's, their knowledge of where everything is, and how they deal with the hostages, it's obvious that they had their shit together. Denzel is brought in, negotiating only because the lead negotiator is on vacation, as a tough cop with a charisma and sense of humor usually not seen in movies like this.

Suddenly things take a swift turn when Jodie Foster's character is brought in on behalf on the banks chairman, to secure the contents of his safety deposit box, exactly what the robbers wanted in the first place. You don't really know what Foster's job is, but you get the feeling that her character is like a Karl Rove, "I'll bury a dead body, even kill a mouthy hooker just to cover your ass" type of person. The rest of the movie seems like a cat and mouse game between Washington and Owen, built in with plot twists and funny lines to please anyone who can honestly call themselves a movie lover.

With Lee's signature score in the background, the "Spike Lee shot" that he uses masterfully a few times during this film, his subtle dis of 50 cent in the movie, and dialog that flows effortlessly, it proves to everyone that Lee is on e the top of his game. Even though Spike didn't write this film, or the screenplay, he had his fingerprints all over this film. Like when a Sikh gentleman was let go by the robbers and was harassed by the police who thought he was a "arab". When he was going on about being harassed to Denzel's character, having his civil rights violated, and how he gets checked at the airport constantly, Washington's character says, "But I bet you can get a cab though!!" You can't tell me that wasn't Spike Lee at work. Also, in the brilliant "subtle casting" department, an actress named Marcia Jean Kurtz is in this movie. This is only relevant because this flick is being compared to "Dog Day Afternoon", is even mentioned during the film, and she was a cast member in that film.

But I will say this though, Spike Lee has it nailed when portraying black characters in film, something that all other film-makers should take notes from. He doesn't make black folks look foolish and stereotypical like those fucking "Madea" flicks, and he doesn't unconsciously cater to the racists out there by making his African American character's noteworthy professions an integral part of the movie("Something New") By witnessing Denzel's command performance you can see that Lee gets how to, flaws and all, depict African American characters with strength and pride without being heavy handed and corny.

4 1/2 stars

P.S I still think Jack Bauer would beat Tony's ass though.

Random Video. Sade: "King of Sorrow"

Maybe what I'm about to say is the reason why I will never marry, but whoever is kind enough to join me in marital bliss will have to deal with the fact that our wedding vows will be altered. Of course the usual will be in there, to have, hold, blah, blah, blah. But the part that I want added, especially during my wife's vows, is her acceptance of the fact that I will leave her faster than patrons at a Paulie Shore movie if I ever have the chance to be with Sade. I have had a crush on her for years now, one that stance won't soften based on a little thing like marriage.

Even though I envision wining and dining her at fancy eatery's, sexy pillow-talk like "Do you mind if I fuck you to one of your records?", and freestyle rhyming with her band as she looks in awe of my manly presence, I actually think the truth would be more sobering. If she did ever give this chubby pre-ejaculator a chance, I could see me getting the respect of a substitute cabana boy, running errands all day for her, looking after her kids, even hand washing her undergarments in a metal tub like I'm "Celie" in "The Color Purple" and shit. That being said, it would sure be worth it.

Thursday, March 23, 2006

It's Official, I'd be the Worst Porn Star Ever!

When it comes to predicting the eminent downfall of the relationships of my friends, I am truly on some Nostradamus shit. I'm not truly clairvoyant, because if I was I would randomly touch hot women to see what my chances were of penetrating them, but I have a sort of sixth sense about doomed relationships. My power doesn't work on me though being that my taste of women over the past couple of years has spanned a kleptomaniac, a devil worshiper, and a woman who didn't believe in voting(the worst). Hey, I'm not even one of these "crab in the bucket" dudes who wishes bad things on my friends because of the small amount of women who have seen my penis recently, I really do wish happiness on them. But I have a gift, like when my friend Gary asked me to be honest about a new girl he was seeing and I said that she seemed like "she's been around more than Tupac's tour-bus", he laughed off my opinion as just me "trying to be funny." So I wasn't surprised when he informed me a few months later that, well, I'll quote him directly: "She fucked my daddy Dawg!!"

Or the time I told my friend Miles that I thought his girlfriend was a closet lesbian, of course not by how she looked and no I don't have "gaydar", but the mere fact that she stared at more titties than I did and seemed a bit too passionate when she said "That could never fucking happen!" when discussing the plot of "Chasing Amy" was a dead fucking giveaway. So you can guess that I wasn't surprised a few months later when Miles told me that his lady had left him for a woman who resembled James Gandolfini. I have a fucking gift man, at least I thought, but an ongoing relationship with my friend Andre and his porn-star girlfriend is turning me into a god-damned fraud.

Last year I talked about my friend Andre and his relationship with a famous black porn star, of course it was awkward when we met because I had touched myself inappropriately while watching her work, but I never thought they would still be together. I figured either she would get tired of having sex with a guy who didn't have a baby's arm as a phallus, Andre would suddenly become outraged at her profession, or maybe he would get tired of "hitting the sides" like a game of bumper cars after she gets off "work". Well they are still together, as I recently found out when we all went out for sushi, so I guess my fortune telling skills are officially over.

As we laughed and I stared at her cleavage, watched her mouth and had flashbacks like a Vietnam Vet of the many scenes she was in, stared at her breasts some more, tried to stay seated because of the "chubby" she was giving me due to her inappropriate flirtations, I sat there and listened to her tell me the "In's and outs" of the business.(In's, outs, porn. get it) I sat there crippled off of the stories she told me, of course I never thought about being in porn flicks, but like a woman who sees her uncircumcised lover's penis for the first time, things change when you are presented the uncut version of things. So talking to her, not that any of you would have to worry about it anyway, she made sure that I will never become a porn star. Here are a few reasons why.

I'm a Germaphobe: Don't get it wrong, I'm not like Howard Hughes where the shit cripples my whole being, but I've become pretty germaphobic in my 30's. Case in point, if I'm at a restaurant and I don't have that anti-bacterial stuff, I'll go to the bathroom and open the door with my foot, use the sink handles and the soap dispenser with paper towels, then open the door again with my feet.(Lord knows how frustrating it is to do all of those things only to see a guy you know who wants to shake your hand. Fuck!! I gotta do that shit all over.) So you get the picture, I'm pretty bad, so I'd imagine that your standard porn star would have to be free of a neuroses like mine.

I'd be a nightmare to my co-stars, wanting to see their paperwork so they won't give me something that I can't get rid of, refusing to work with them if they were coming from another "job", and if after the "money shot" if she tried to kiss me I'd probably scream out "Ewww, get the fuck off of me!!!" Not to mention me asking them "what that redness is from?", screaming "Cut, Cut!!" and pointing at their genitalia and saying "What is that Smell?? That smell!!", and possibly me wearing two condoms coated with a thin layer of crazy glue might freak people the fuck out.

I'd be an insensitive lover:
Don't get me wrong, when I'm in a loving relationship I am what some men might describe a "sucker for love ass trick", Sade, candles, lovely dinner, and if the mood is right I might cry in my lovers arms immediately after I ejaculate asking her "Why didn't my father ever love me??" I'm only saying that I'd be an insensitive lover if I was a porn star because I knew how I was when I treated my genitalia like a roulette wheel when I was in college. To say that I was an insufferable prick would be an understatement of gigantic proportions.

I could see it now, being in a sex scene where the woman is panting loudly, screaming "Ouch-Ouch-Ouch-Yeah Daddy!". I know I'd respond by stopping my thrust, grabbing her lips and saying, "Shut-the-fuck-up!! Last week you were with a dude who's genitalia is in the Guinness Book of World records, I know I'm not doing any damage back here!!" Other times, when the actress playfully asks "Ohh, do you want me to *insert sexual act here*?" I would look at her like she was crazy and break character by saying, "Of course stupid ass, people aren't watching this shit for the cooking tips!!"

Two's company, and another penis is just creepy: I guess the reason you will never hear me tell teenage "..and then me and my friends took turns on the her" stories is because I can't "perform" if another penis is within 100 meters of mine. In High School, when this chick was giving up her body like a kamikaze prostitute to a group of my friends, I would always try to cut a deal with the young harlot in question by attempting to get some "one on one" time with the doors locked. The guys didn't go for it, and apparently whores hate to snuggle, so I never was apart of any teenage deviant sex acts.

This doesn't stem from any sort of homophobia, hell I almost caught an assault charge defending the rights of a homosexual classmate in college, but like being unable to urinate as some asshole talks to you in the urinal over from you, it is virtually impossible for me to "accomplish the mission" so to speak. I'm well versed in the world of pornography, knowing how common it is to see two men filling out some porn starlet like a Radio Shack application, but if another man inadvertently touched me while I was in "the act" or somehow our privates touched, I would be in the shower for an hour scrubbing myself vigorously with an SOS pad.

They'd be the shortest flicks ever: Being that I haven't had a legitimate girlfriend since the Clinton administration, and since this blog garners me no questionable ass whatsoever, I think if I became a porn star it would be safe to say that Superman wouldn't be the only one who comes "faster than a speeding bullet". But like most kids who grew up chubby, I would not only learn to embrace that particular shortcoming(pun not intended dammit) but I would see it as a source of comedic entertainment. Just think about this, I'm making out with a luscious actress and during foreplay you hear me go "Ahhhhh" and you hear her go "Oh no you didn't!! Oh Hell No!!" Of course what would follow would be me giggling like a school girl, shrugging my shoulders, and like a kid caught in the cookie jar, looking to the camera saying, "Whooops! My bad!!"

Actually, to honor my pre-ejaculation brethren world wide I would market a series of porn flicks entitled just that, "Whooops!! My Bad!!", with a collection of movies so brief that people would think my feature length works of art were just porn previews of other movies. Yeah, I could never be a porn star, but if I did I would follow the "Whoops" series with a porn box set entitled "So what?? I got mine!!" It should be a hit.

From the Directors Chair

Even though I watch more porn than I care to admit, can rattle of the real names of porn actresses that I lust after like it was a fucking party trick, and even criticize the camera angles while "rubbing one out" by screaming "That's a horrible directorial decision!!" like I was porn's version of Roger Ebert and shit, I do watch regular movies. I know that judging someone based on their interests seems like an asshole move, but like John Cusacks character said in "High Fidelity", "It's not what you're like but what you like", it's a statement I agree with being the uber snob that I am. The following two directors that I'm going to focus on today in "From the Directors Chair" are two men who are constantly criticized for the most foolish reasons, I personally think they are brilliant. But of course it is OK for you to feel that these guys are untalented, it's just that your ass would be dead fucking wrong though.

Kevin Smith: I have been a fan of Kevin "Straight Outta Jersey, Crazy motherfucker named Silent Bob" Smith since I first saw a grainy flick about two clerks more than a decade ago. That flick was an inspiration for a guy who loves writing as much as I do, watching the characters try to figure out if private contractors hired to repair the Death Star were innocent bystanders when Luke blew it to smithereens, the main characters problem with his girlfriend only naming a few guys that she had slept with but leaving out the "37 penises" she mad in her mouth, and about a million other scenes that would take me all day to break down. As you can see by watching his flicks, and Smith will tell you this himself, you won't see any intricate pyrotechnics or fancy-shmancy camera moves that directors use to hide the fact that their film is really garbage. But from Smith, like in "Clerks", "Chasing Amy", and "Dogma", you will see a mastery of dialog that I could only hope to one day compete with.

Kevin Smith and Dave Chappelle have a lot in common if you think about it. Both are plagued with careers where they have people who actually get the message of what theyare trying to say and respect the subtleties of their art-form. But at the same time Chappelle has to battle the random mindless schmuck who yells "I'm Rick James bitch!!" in his direction, whereas I'm sure Kevin Smith has those same guys yelling "Where's Silent Bob motherfucker!!" or "Snoochie Bootches!!" at him ad naseum. Listen, I'll probably be the first bastard in line anxiously awaiting to see "Clerks 2" like any other die hard fan of his, but the mere existence of said film brings out mixed feelings in me. I mean, he claimed that he wanted to do more mature material and when he did he got hammered for it.(Jersey Girl) Granted, who could have forseen the cluster fuck that was "Gigli" to cause such collateral damage? But seeing him go back to do a second Clerks makes me wonder if he has decided against expanding artistically. I hope not, because as much as I love Jay's potty mouth it would sure be a shame if J-lo and a million armchair fucking directors deterred him from doing what he truly wanted.

Spike Lee: Question: You want to know when someone is truly talented?? Answer: When the critiques about them are the most asinine pieces of fecal matter that ever escaped human lips ever. You hear people bitching about his all black casts, but you don't hear the same people bitching when you mention Woody Allen. You hear people tearing down his films based on some of his public comments, even though the beliefs that he makes in public don't have shit to do with his art. I even had an argument with an Italian American gentleman who said that Spike portrayed "his people negatively" in "Do the Right Thing", even though I pointedly proclaimed "What's the fucking difference??" when I pointed out that gentleman's love for "The Soprano's". Enough about the poster children of abortions with illegitimate opinions, Spike has that directorial style where as soon as you see the flick you know who it is. Some would say that's a bad thing, but for anyone who can immediately recognize a DJ Premiere beat, a Miles Davis riff, or Rakim's vocal tone, having a recognizable style can be a good thing.

From the score of his movies, his unflinching stance on things, that moving dolly shot that he uses that has been named "The Spike Lee shot", to the vivid imagery that he brings to each shot like he took all day setting it up. People always like to criticize Spike over the fact that he doesn't finish the movie for you, leaving the true ending up to the viewer. But that's the beauty of his flicks, thinking of what became of Mookie, what kind of adults the characters in "School Daze" became, even wondering if Ed Norton's character in "The 25th Hour" went to prison or spent the rest of his life on the lamb, that's the kind of shit I love.

Lastly, based on the state of Hip Hop and the why people were laughing "At" Three-6-Mafia as they accepted their awards at the Oscars, the movie "Bamboozled" is the finest example of how many of the artists today have become a modern day minstrel show. People say that Spike is preachy and Heavy-handed with his approach to movie making, but the same way a bad ass child only responds to a spanking and a jackass at a club only responds to a massive throat-chop, sometimes it takes extreme measures to get your point across.

Video of the day. EPMD:You Gots To Chill

I Love this song, not because it is my favorite EPMD song or anything, but it reminds me of the immediate time I knew that I would worship to the alter of Hip Hop until my last days. See, when I was in 10th grade my cousins brought down 3 tapes from New York(for my birthday on Aug 31st) that would change my life forever. Those tapes included Big Daddy Kane's "Long Live the Kane", Public Enemy's "It Takes a Nation of Millions..", and EPMD's "Strictly Business". Of course I loved Hip Hop before then, but having those three classic albums at the same time intensified my love for the art-form. Even though me and my cousins hardly talk any more, whether it is because of responsibilities or because I'm a horrible relative, I will always be eternally grateful for the best birthday present I have ever received.

Scott Van Pelt is my new Homeboy

Anyone out there who watches ESPN with any kind of regularity like any sports addict does, you are pretty much used to the anchors offering their own signature style to their broadcasts. When Stuart Scott started injected Hip Hop references into his sports announcing duties back in the day it was cool, but after a while it seemed like he was straining to stay relevant. But in a time and place where Hip Hop culture gets hijacked from all angles, from respected Newsmen using the term "diss" like it's always been a part of their vernacular, to 50 year old white guys who try to bond with you by inappropriately calling you "dawg" or molesting you with some sort of Parkinson's induced "soul" handshake. So, lets just say that I'm cautious when I hear anyone, Sports announcer or otherwise, clumsily spew out Hip Hop terminology ad naseum.

That being said I am here to give Scott Van Pelt some props, sincerely. I have heard him over the years say things like "He's got powers comparable to Wonderboy"(A Tenacious D reference.), "He dunks the ball like a bald, dorky, white guy...wait a minute..that's me!!", "I'm ready to shoot now, Jack"(Boogie Night's reference), him poking fun at figure skater Johnny Weir by saying "I feel like the prettiest flower in the pond.", and the man has the best Stephen A. Smith imitation in the world. But all of that isn't why I'm giving Mr. Van Pelt love today.

I'm giving him love because during a broadcast where a point guard was on a shooting streak, and I am paraphrasing him here, he said "That guy is on FIIIYAH as M.O.P would say!!!" Huh, did he just reference M.O.P?? I'm sorry, but anyone who references those two grimy cats from Brownsville gets love from me every time..

Tuesday, March 21, 2006

Trapped in an episode of "My Name is Earl"

I think the reason why I identify with the show "My Name is Earl" so much is because it kind of highlights an ongoing motif in my life over the past 3 years. Sure there are some subtle differences like the whole "me not being a white" thing, I didn't win the lottery, and I don't carry around a laundry list of past offenses that I wish to clear up rather neatly in a 22 minute time span. But, because I don't want Peter to laugh his ass off at the Pearly Gates shouting "You have got to be fucking kidding me!" when I meet my maker, and because I have believed in the whole Karma aspect for years, I have tried to make amends with people I have wronged and desperately tried to straighten out situations that I made a mess of. Even though this "cleansing" period has hit some rough patches, like when I was dead honest with a girl I was dating and said "Listen, I ain't shit, move on and meet a guy who will really do right by you" as a way of freeing her from the cancer that is Humanity F Critic, she took it as a weaselly way to get out of the relationship so I'm pretty sure she wouldn't piss on me if I was ton fire currently. Besides that, it has been a rather good experience, so here are a few of the things that I have done recently to ensure that Karma won't be so eager to give me the raw end of the stick like a prison rape.

Get rid of stolen chains: Not to incriminate myself here but I have to admit that I have been a chain snatcher for the past decade or so. Granted, I haven't pulled expensive jewelery off the necks of women or old people, I'm not a fucking savage or anything. But I had a bad habit, whenever I was standing over some miserable bastard who I just gave the business end of a right hook to because he started some unnecessary shit with me, of snatching the chain off of their necks for some reason. Scratch that, I know the reason and it wasn't because I wanted any type of monetary reward for it, and it wasn't because I was in need of gaudy jewelery either. It was to demoralize them, nothing makes you feel like a bigger pair of tits after getting beat down, then to have a chubby blogging bastard yank your chain off by saying "Give me that!!(snatch) You'll know next time not to fuck with me!" I know, I'm a prick, but let me give you a few of the offenses of the gentlemen in question before you stop reading my blog forever. 1. The guy beat up my best friend. 2.This other guy called me the N-Word(not Necrophiliac either) 3. Another gentleman sexually assaulted my friend. 4.This guy was talking shit about Kobe Bryant.(Ok, bad reason)

Anyway, I have had these chains in a drawer for a while now just generating bad Karma, probably causing my pre-ejaculatory condition.(OK, I can't blame Karma for that.) So what I did was I took the chains in question to a pawn shop and took the loot and gave it to a Hurricane Katrina charity. I don't know if that act will get me right with Karma or not, but it might think twice when it's mouth is salivating like Pavlov's dog, getting ready to bite me in the ass.

Make Amends with my Neighbor: Let me explain to you how much I despise my neighbor. When a friend of mine cast me in her independent movie(so independent that it will only be me, her, and a few friends "independently" seeing it while getting high) and she wanted to deliver a angry dialogue, I thought about my neighbor to get in character. From his wife having a god-damned Beauty Salon in her garage, the parking space her "clientele" takes up, him blatantly mowing his yard 4 feet into my property, and a plethora of other offenses that had raised my blood pressure significantly last year. But over the past few months I thought we were past our problems, acting like good neighbors and co-existing like adults, that was until recently.

I noticed that the past few times that I had waived in his direction he didn't waive back. OK, maybe he didn't see me, no big deal. Last week, when his eyes were fixed on mine as we both got our morning papers at the same time, I threw my hand up and spoke but this motherfucker didn't respond. Man, I was getting pissed, but like porn flicks focused on fellatio it all came to a head a few days back when I was getting gas. He pulled right behind me, less that a few feet from me by the way, and didn't respond when I spoke to him. That's it, "he needs he ass beat" I thought. For the past few days I acted like any jerk with an anger problem acts, I talk to myself about the incident with incoherent quips like: "That motherfucker doesn't know who he is fucking with!!", "Doesn't he know I will beat him in front of his family??", and "Damn I want to give Rosario Dawson some "man love"". But before I assaulted him wearing a ninja outfit that I own as he got his morning paper, I decided to go over and talk to him while he was fixing his car. We had a decent chat, learned that he has another baby on the way, he's changing careers, and that he thought for the longest time that I hated him. That guy has some good instincts I must admit, but I assured him that I didn't hate him and went on my way. Even though the situation was cleared up, that devil popped on my shoulder and made me say "But make sure you waive back or acknowledge me when I waive, you almost got fucked up!!" See, that was uncalled for.

A Woman Scorned(By me): A few years ago, when I wasn't the germaphobe that I am now and tried to satisfy my every sexual urge, lets just say that I was an insufferable prick in the relationship department.(Granted, I'm only marginally better as we speak) Anyway, I was dating a girl who was not only horrible for me, but the fact that she was cheating on me had revealed itself at that time. I know fellas, I should have dropped her ass like a one armed wide receiver with Parkinson's, but the quality of the booty kept me around sadly. Like anyone who still finds himself with a cheating significant other, I felt that I had a free pass so to speak to conquer random ass carefree. So I started a sexual relationship with an ex of mine, it was wrong I know, but while I clumsily thrusted on top of a woman who wasn't my girlfriend, it was the only moment of sanity I could muster just to get the images of someone "leaving extra room" in my current girlfriend.

Everything was going like clockwork, no one suspected anything, that was until my then girlfriend told me that she planned on working at the same department store as the ex whose boots I was currently knocking from "here to Albuquerque"(Ice Cube quote) But I figured that the department store had many section, from the boys department to hardware, the chances of them working in the same vicinity is slim. Right?? Wrong!! Not only did these broads end up working in the same department, but they started working at the same fucking register. When each one of them would talk to me about the other and how "cool her co-worker is" I knew the gig was up. But since I knew my time was limited like a death row inmate awaiting to get fried like chicken at Grandma's house, I continued having sex with both of them like a madman.

So you can image the anger and outright disgust they both felt when they discovered that the same guy currently knew them in the "Biblical" sense. I was caught, and to make matters worse I didn't show up at their job when they tried to ambush me like a miserable "Parkers" episode either. Looking back I could give a fuck about the feelings of my then girlfriend, she was a miserable human being and the fact that I actually felt "space" after her cheating rendezvous still makes sick to my stomach. But my ex was an innocent bystander, so I always felt that my bad luck with women over the past few years was due to Karma kicking my ass because of it. But recently I saw her in "Barnes and Noble" and felt compelled to talk to her about it.

Like a fucking Lifetime movie, I stood besides a cookbook section apologizing about an old as indiscretion by yours truly. She accepted my apology, but went on to say that she wasn't hurt since I was her dude "on the side" as well. I suddenly felt better, so we spent the next few minutes reminiscing about a plethora of topics. When she said, "I didn't believe that girl was your girlfriend anyway, you never picked her up!! I knew she was lying!!", I didn't have the heart to correct her. Come on Karma, give me a fucking break already..

A Few useless Humanity F. Critic facts..

A friend of mine got a job at Vibe magazine recently, so I thought I would honor her by doing one of those things in said magazine where they ask an artist certain questions and they give the top 3 answers. Anyway, here it goes.

Things that annoy me:

*People who can't take a joke.
*People who can't take a punch.
*Rap critics who don't know shit about Hip Hop Culture.

You never leave home without:
*Medal pipe I keep in my backseat
*Gum, breath-mints, breath spray, floss
*Trojan Condoms(Naw I can't fit them, but you never know when you can make a kid's day by making balloon animals

I have a secret crush on:
*Janeane Garofalo
*Christiane Amanpour
*Vivian Brown(Black weather channel woman)

Your favorite Beat-makers are:
*J Dilla
*DJ Premier
*Pete Rock

Favorite Fragrances:
*I'm old school, Joop
*This sounds manly, Candies for men
*Even though this excites alcoholic broads, a few dabs of whiskey behind my ear

Favorite Foods:
*Mac and Cheese
*Crab legs

Wackest thing about having a blog:
*People's complaint that my posts are long. Jesus fucking Christ already, what kind of lazy fuck are you anyways?? Yes, I'm wordy, so fucking what?? Listen asshole..Ooops, there I go being "wordy again"
*People misinterpreting what you say.
*The fact that I haven't gotten one piece of ass off this site yet.

Keith Olbermann asks: "Who does the President think he's Fucking kidding?"

I thought I was the only one who wanted to commit a random assault when I heard the administration now claim that they never tried to lump Saddam and 9/11 together.(Lying bastards) I hate news shows, but I 'm starting to get into Keith Olbermann's MSNBC program. Check out this clip.

Friday, March 17, 2006

What I would do if I won the Lottery...

A few weeks ago, because I guess he felt that I was someone who he could confide in, a friend of mine that I have known since college told me that he inherited 10 million dollars from his grandfather. Of course, because of the scumbag that I am, I immediately thought about the both of us gallivanting around with women who look like they should be either on a fashion show runway or a porn movie, sipping on expensive champagne while throwing loose cash in the air like confetti. I also had an image us going to Vegas, hookers giving me a back-rub as we laugh hysterically about a story about a bouncer I once beat up, all the while "going all in" with 100 grand worth of chips even though I'm holding a truly shitty hand. That all sounds good, but because this guy is a friend and I feel guilty about being negligent in that category, I shifted to "friend Mode" and told him to invest his money. I gave him a lengthy lecture on stocks, not telling anyone about his new found fortune, and not blowing his loot on some bullshit, it was the best advice I have given any living human being ever.

I really thought I had gotten to him, infiltrated his consciousness with the "jewels" of wisdom I had placed in his lap. That was until I found myself in a ritzy ass club, getting attention from women who usually wouldn't piss on me if I was on fire, watching my friend pull out a wadd of money paying for a one thousand dollar bar bill. Yeah I'm a hypocrite because I contributed to said bill, but if you saw the luscious set of human Latina speed bags that were propped in my face, it would make a heterosexual woman throw her arm around me and say that she "feels my pain". Even though I declined his offer to buy me gifts, reason being because I didn't want to feel like "his bitch", why am I now currently enjoying the use of 5 high priced IPOD components as I type this post.(I'm such a fucking whore) But after watching him buy 3 cars, a boat, and a house that looks like a fucking museum, I feel guilty and in no way want to contribute to him blowing money that should last him a lifetime.(Even though the trip to Cancun that he offered all of his friends sounds nice, even though the mass amounts of college ass I would get would have me nervously waiting in my doctors waiting room anticipating "negative" test results)

But that had me thinking, if I won the lottery, what would be the first thing I would do with my new found fortune?? Hell, I might be as extravagant with my money as my friend is, who am I to judge?? These things might not sound that appealing to you, but here's what I would do if I hit the lotto.

Look out for my family: My mother is the only person in the world that I could ask to hold a million dollars for me while I do a 5 years prison bid and it would all be there when I get out. She is so unselfish that I know that any attempt to give her any dough would be thwarted, so I would have to do like Kain did in "Menace to Society" and put money in random places like her medicine cabinet, glove compartment, and possibly refrigerator and shit. I'd obviously hit my siblings off with loot, along with my favorite uncle in Chicago and my god-mother, besides that everyone else is pretty much shit out of luck. I mean, I'd give them some "Leave me the fuck alone" money consisting of possible 30 grand a piece, but after that runs out you are on your motherfucking own. Not because I'm trying to be mean or anything, but I have a hard time supporting anyone who probably feels that I'm a piece of shit in my now pre-lottery condition.

Get my black ass out of dodge: Yes, if I won the lottery the first thing my pudgy blogging ass would do is move, with a quickness. For one thing, I have lived in Virginia Beach all of my life, so imagine all of the loathsome women who have been kind enough to let me clumsily thrust on top of them over the past 18 years. If it became public that I was the new black "Daddy Warbucks", they would want back in my life for reasons stemming from "love" to payment for having the misfortune of losing their virginity to me. Besides that, I have been in so many physical altercations in my life that Mike Tyson would criticize me for having an anger problem. To be honest, I can name about 10 people who wouldn't be too upset if I became rather intimate with the business end of a bullet, I have enemies. I'd have to hire a bodyguard while packing twin glock 9mm's on my hips like I'm in the Wild West and shit, just to thwart any elaborate kidnapping plots headed my way. Come to think about it, I'd have to move my mama as well.

"Un pimp" my ride: A few years ago my republican friend Danny said, "That whole 'cops harassing black folks' shit is bullshit isn't it? Cops don't harass you if you are innocent!!" So what I did was I had an experiment where I would drive each time Danny and I went out, just so he could see that cops unnecessarily harass black folks. He took me up on it, thinking that I would look foolish after weeks of hanging out without any heat from the Virginia Beach Police Department. Well, 3 weeks and 7 police stops later, where I was cuffed and thrown against the car like I was a perp on the show "The Shield", Danny has a whole new outlook on Police Harassment. Shit, Danny might still believe that Saddam had WMD's, Bush is a "great leader", and that Bill O'Reilly is a prophet, but he also believes that Cops go out of their way to harass black folks.

Anyway, I went into that lengthy spiel to say that I have never been a guy who was in love with fancy ass cars. Especially if I won the lottery, I see no reason to make myself a bigger target for police attention. Shit, I got pulled over on a regular basis in college driving a 1985 Spectrum, my black ass might get a public cavity search if I all of a sudden drive a Hummer. So, I would purchase some horseshit car like a Pacer, or a Pinto, something that doesn't immediately shout "money". I'd ever leave the car looking like a fucking mess on the outside, rust spots and all. But, because I'm a sorry bastard who likes to laugh at my own miserable sense of humor, I'd make everything "in" the car brand spanking new. New high performance Engine, state of the art stereo system, GPS, hydraulics, nitrous, PlayStation 3 for my passengers, the frills. (Holding a Candle)Yes, I'm Humanity F Critic and I'm an asshole.

Live Below my means: Since my goal is to find a woman with a bar set low enough to marry my ass with hopes of her being goodly enough to let me spread my demon seed, finding the right candidate is a must. I don't know about you, but I feel that it would be difficult to find "Mrs. Right" if I threw my dough around more than a pizza maker, living in a 15 room mansion equipped with solid gold toilets. So, because I would want to find a decent woman, I would live in a modest size apartment, even telling her that I am a "struggling artist" just to maintain the "I'm not rich motherfucker" facade. Yes it's deceptive, dishonest, and any other adjective that puts a negative light on my particular choice, but don't you think she will look past the lies after 2 years of dating as I throw her a "You're going to Marry a Millionaire Baby" surprise party. When the streamers fall on her face as her friends and family cheer her on, won't the years spent eating grilled cheese sandwiches and shopping at the thrift store be worth it??

Start a radio station or own a record store: I'd never thought I'd say this, but I'd rather get a colon exam than be forced to listen to the radio for an entire day. Besides the fact of the eye-rolling music that they play, or the play-list they have to stick to where you might hear a song 10 times a day, its just that modern day radio releases a sticky goo of wackness that probably has the look of what sperm coming from the Stay-puff Marshmallow man would look like. To combat this, and I have no idea how much a radio station costs by the way, I would start my own broadcast where I would play real hip hop all day and talk straight shit about the other stations in my area. Of course there would be death threats from other local DJ's and listeners who are upset at me for saying that a "Young Jeezy album sounds like an hour long bowel movement from a turkey", but it would be so fucking worth it.

Being a music snob who has been diagnosed with a sexual addiction, besides a smorgasbord of women with big backsides vying for my attention, nothing gets me more exiting to me than a room full of Vinyl. I'm old school, and the mere thought of owning a vintage record store makes me want to eat healthier and drink less, to prolong my life that would be filled admiring my Hip Hop section and constantly adding to my blues section. I wouldn't care if my business made any money, just to be in a well insulated room as I play a rare remix to Rakim's "let the Rhythm hit em'" would be well worth being in the red.

My take on "Dave Chappelle's Block Party" (Readers request)

People can disregard what I'm about to say because in their opinion I'm probably playing the "race card", but growing up black in this country gives you a rather unique perspective on things. One person can see their local news as simply trying to get simple information out there, I can look at the same broadcast as them trying to paint all black males as animals. You could see Three-6 Mafia's Oscar win as something good for Hip Hop, and I could see it as a backhanded compliment from the academy by promoting a new millenium minstrel show. I know better than to buy that "Ron Artest is a caged beast", "Kobe is a dangerous black rapist", or anything that the media tries to sell you because of their continuous misrepresentation of my people whenever possible.

That's why, when Dave Chappelle walked away from his show and was categorized as being mentally unfit, I knew better than to drink the Jim Jones Kool-Aid that the media wanted to pour down our throats. Black folks bought that shit hook line and sinker as well, from Barbershops to the blogishere, I never heard so many people talk confidently about something that they had no proven knowledge about. It was pretty fucking shameful if you ask me. But I do feel that Dave had a serious problem that was a subtle theme throughout this entire flick though.

That problem I feel, one that plagued many great artists who take their craft seriously and want to be treated as such, is a man highly uncomfortable with an astronomic level of fame. This concert in which he funded directly from the depths of his pockets was billed as a concert for "the people", which is wonderful, but it also felt like a very proud man apologizing for a 50 million dollar contract that he just signed.

The concert, although rather dated because it was filmed two years ago, was filled with a handful of the artists that I truly respect. Mos Def and Talib got me fiending for another BlackStar album, even though I find their "don't vote" stance deplorable I still had to got hype when Dead Prez performed "Hip Hop", Erykah Badu reminded me of how crazy as fuck she is but in a good way, and Jill Scott's soulful elegance reignited a love for her that will probably result in a restraining order. Common did his thing, seeing Big Daddy Kane and Kool G Rap brought a smile to my face, hearing The Roots rock brought to light how dope Black Thought is and how I take him for granted for it, with a reunion of The Fugees which was just average for me to be totally honest, and the parts sprinkled in with Cody Chestnut just gives people insight on what a great talent he truly is.

In an age where asshole celebrities run as rampant as remedial Hip Hop, Dave's interaction with the people of his home town and New York shows what kind of quality dude he is. The one criticism of this film is that it's "not funny", which inspires me to put a Timberland boot squarely in the chest of any underling who utters such nonsense since it is advertised as a "concert film". But there is enough of Dave's humor spread throughout the film to leave any person with a respectable I.Q who could comprehend the commercial of said film, satisfied. I also see this film as a slap in the face to all those Bill "dudes who don't know shit about Hip Hop but want to put all of it in a bubble based on seeing a Ying Yang Twins video" O'Reilly type of critics, who are racking their heads trying to say something negative about the acts in this film.

But at the end of the day I respect Dave, and I applaud him for putting together a concert filled with artists that he really wanted to see perform, in the midst of one of the most turbulent times in his life. Unlike many people who want Dave to return to his show, I don't, not if it means a lethal dose of poison to his state of mind. I'm not in any way saying that Chappelle is the tortured soul that a certain Seattle based rocker named Kurt Cobain was, but we all see what can happen when a truly artistic person suddenly feels trapped by their monumental success.

Thanks Anita..

Hip Hop Video of the day- The Roots - Proceed 2 ft. Roy Ayers

The Roots featuring Roy Ayers: Proceed 2

Even though I'm not even certain that this is even my favorite song by The Roots, but I always loved this song and felt that it is what Hip Hop is all about.(You might need to put it on "Pause" for a while so it loads properly)

Rodney Mullen(video)

Even though I'm at the advanced age of 32, I still see myself as Michael Jordan when I split geriatric defenders at my local YMCA, I feel like Barry Bonds as I defiantly drop my bat as I watch a ball that I have just crushed sail over the fence during a "Over 30" softball game, and as I'm doing kick-flip Ollie's and terrorizing private property by grinding curbs and rail-sliding handrails, I try to be like this guy. He's one of my favorite skaters.

Natalie "Padmé Amidala" Portman gets Gangsta on SNL

I wanted to share this clip, not because she shows more skills than your average rapper nowadays(because she does), but simply because it made me laugh. Tell me what you think..

Wednesday, March 15, 2006

"What do you want to do with your life!??" I WANNA ROCK!!

Even though a great deal of my posts are about Hip Hop, the declining state of Hip Hop, and how my Hip Hop tastes are better than yours, I have a strong love for rock music that I feel I hardly touch upon here. I guess my love for the art-form stemmed from my parents playing Jimi Hendrix records when I was a kid, or my sister playing her "Beatles" vinyl so much that I surprise Karaoke goers when I can sing "Penny Lane" or "Eleanor Rigby" like its "Rappers Delight" and shit, or possibly my love for rock stems from the "Pre-black folks" MTV years where Billy Idol and Van Halen found their way in my life more than a "Whats Happening?" rerun. It's weird, I can talk about my favorite Hip Hop groups with confidence because I am an all out Rap snob who thinks my opinion should be a new fucking commandment, but I really wonder how a rock purist who has the same snob tendencies feels about my rock choices. I guess we'll see, here a few of my favorite rock bands.

Red Hot Chili Peppers: This group holds a special place in my heart because one of their songs saved my life. As someone who contemplated taking my own life in the midst of a parents passing, my mother's cancer, and being dropped like a bad habit after a five year relationship, "Under the Bridge" was like a best friend telling me that life won't always look so bleak. These guys, regardless of some of the harder rock fans who think that they are too mainstream, can kick ass with the best of them. With a sound influenced by funk, punk, and traces of Hip Hop, it seems that it is virtually impossible for these guys to make a bad song. Anthony Kiedis, while not blessed with the best voice heard by man, truly makes up for it in his song writing, passion, and energy. John Frusciante is one of the best guitarists out there, while Flea is the one bass player that I always put in my dream "super-group".(Along with Questlove on the drums, Prince on the guitar, and Stevie Wonder on the piano/vocals) Besides that I occasional sing "Give it away" while dancing in front of my mirror naked watching my flab shake like gelatin as I tell myself that I'm one "sexy black bastard", other personal favorites include "My Friends", "Scar Tissue", "Suck my Kiss", "Breaking the Girl", and about a thousand other songs I could take up this post citing. By the way, as a Stevie Wonder fan who hates most people who dare to remake his material, the Red Hot Chilli Pepper's version of "Higher Ground" is the best Stevie Wonder cover ever.(Name an artist who has covered Stevie, it won't fucking compare) A few years ago, when I was backstage at one of their concerts, I had a joint in my ear as I approached Anthony Kiedis to talk about music. As I got closer, realizing his lifelong battle with heroin addiction, I quickly put the marijuana cigarette in my pocket out of respect. He caught on to what I had done and gave me a huge smile, and hugged me for like an entire minute and said that he appreciated the gesture.(It's probably the only man on man hug I have ever been comfortable with) He gave me the "OK" to smoke in his presence as we spoke for minutes about a plethora of topics, he truly is a great guy. Even though we had a lengthy talk, I forgot to tell him that he saved my life. I guess I'll tell him the next time I see him.

Rage Against the Machine: Some groups inspire you to do things just by the power of their message. Run DMC inspires me to represent Hip Hop to the fullest while rocking my shell-toe Adidas, M.O.P would be the group that I would play if I planned on going on an impromptu killing spree, Barry White is the artist I would play if some porn stars randomly showed up at my residence to show me how much they enjoyed my blog, and Rage Against the Machine is the band I would play if I planned on crashing a George W. Bush town-hall meeting in hopes of cursing his ass out before getting shot by Dick Cheney. Besides Public Enemy, no other group that I could name at the moment exemplifies defiance, and a anti-establishment stance. After hearing songs like "Bulls on Parade", "Testify", and "Killing in the Name of", you suddenly get the urge to kidnap your local elected official and make him do right by the people of your particular state. The driving beats, Zack De La Rocha's lyrics and anger, and Tom Morello's innovative guitar licks that rival nobody who ever picked up a six string.

The White Stripes: I should have every reason to despise this group, from their pasty "I really need some beef in my life" complexions, them only being a two piece band, and a drummer who plays like she just picked up a pair of drumsticks yesterday, I really should have no reason to like them. But like a significant other that you love so much that you find their "snoring" and "burping" adorable, the reasons that I should hate them is the exact same reason that I love them. Jack White, belting out awkward tunes that exposes that his influences probably range from Muddy Waters to Johnny Cash, performs each set like its his last performance. Not only does their two piece band make you focus more on the overall performance, Meg Whites lack of drumming ability actually works when you get used to their sound. "Fell in Love with a girl", "Seven Nation Army", "Dead Leaves on a Dirty Ground", and the playful adolescent themed love song at the beginning of Napoleon Dynamite entitled "We're going to be friends" is a truly great listen.

System of a Down: Based on my potty mouth, many of you will probably think that I love this group simply for the song "Cigaro" where they defiantly belt out "My cock is much bigger than yours!!" Even though that line makes me chuckle, hell it even makes me belly laugh when I sing it mid coitus to a woman just see the puzzled look on her face, this is a wildly talented group that I have enjoyed from day one. This Armenian quartet out of southern California has a very broad subject range, from political to introspective lyrics, having something for everybody who is a stickler for the written word like I am. Hard driving guitar riffs, wild vocal arrangement, and a adrenaline fueled pace to make your ardent Hip Hop head nodder bang their head and throw up the bull horns hand sign like your favorite show was "Head Bangers Ball". "Chop Suey"(The song that was put in the "Do not play list" for a while after 9/11), "Aerials", "BYOB", "Toxicity", "Fuck the System", "Violent Pornography", are just a few songs that will make you put down that vomit inducing Young Jeezy album and pray to the rock gods ad nauseum.

A Very late Post-Oscars Rant about 3 topics.

Usually when I'm sick I don't miss a beat, whether it is ignoring my doctor's advice and continuing to have a few drinks despite the medication I'm on, disregarding my ailing condition and begging my partner for a game of "penetration" which of course I will initiate if I have a significant other at the time, and I still tend to post with some sort of regularity even if I am feeling under the weather. But the flu that I had beat me down something serious, so excuse my lateness when discussing the Oscar ceremonies. Don't worry, like I tell my would-be sexual partners, "this won't hurt a bit". I just want to cover three topics briefly.

Phillip Seymour Hoffman: I know this was the year of "Brokeback Mountain", Jon Stewart hosting the show, and every black person I knew watching to see if Terrence Howard was going to rhyme that fucking "pimp" song, with those same people wondering of said song would win one of those golden naked men. But seriously, I didn't give a fuck about any of that, I just hoped that Phillip Seymour Hoffman walked away with that coveted trophy that night. For one thing, along with actors like Denzel Washington, Ed Norton, and a few other names that I could rattle off like the movie geek that I am, Phillip Seymour Hoffman is one of the finest actors of our generation. What most people would consider a character actor with scene stealing roles in "Boogie Nights", "The Talented Mr. Ripley", "Punch Drunk Love", "Almost Famous", and the only remotely interesting fucking thing in "Along Came Polly", he showed that he is a bona fide leading man in his role as Truman Capote in "Capote". Besides a remarkable likeness in mannerism and speech that makes Jamie Foxx's performance in "Ray" look like a cheap dimestore impression, he conveys Capote's need to be liked and his manipulation of people to get what wanted with pin point perfection. So when Hoffman won, as I watched on with a 103 degree fever and so many drugs flowing through my veins Keith Richards would be the only person alive who could understand my plight, I really could give a rats ass about the rest of the show.

George Clooney: For as long as George Clooney has been in the public's consciousness I haven't really had a problem with him, hell, I wanted to be the black George Clooney. Just think about it, being a 40 something bachelor with no kids to speak of, spending ridiculous amounts of money like its burning a whole in your pocket, all the while nailing hot chicks and desperately trying not to laugh in their faces as they mention "marriage" and "settling down", that would be the life. Besides, Clooney hates George Bush more than I do, so the guy is alright in my book. That is, until he said the following during his acceptance speech for "Best supporting Actor" for "Syrianna":

"And finally, I would say that, you know, we are a little bit out of touch in Hollywood every once in a while. I think it's probably a good thing. We're the ones who talk about AIDS when it was just being whispered, and we talked about civil rights when it wasn't really popular. And we, you know, we bring up subjects. This Academy, this group of people gave Hattie McDaniel an Oscar in 1939 when blacks were still sitting in the backs of theaters. I'm proud to be a part of this Academy. Proud to be part of this community, and proud to be out of touch. And I thank you so much for this."

OK, my dreams of being the black George Clooney just disappeared. What in the fuck are you talking about George?? For one thing, for him to use Hattie McDaniel as an example of how "Progressive" Hollywood is makes him sound nuttier than squirrel feces. Not only did Ms. McDaniel play a "Mamie", the movie she was in(Gone with the wind) basically had the undelying theme of how the confederates should have one, and how that "slavery thing" wasn't such a bad idea. Also, she won the Oscar in 1939 and the next black woman to win one of those gold statues came along 64 years later, so excuse me if I giggle at how "progressive" Hollywood is. I don't mean to defecate on Mr. Clooney's statement unnecessarily but you might want to light a match when you consider that when Ms. McDaniel won her Oscar she had to sit at the back of the auditorium. George, I dig your ability to see more woman's genitalia than a overbooked Gynecologist, but if you continue saying dumb shit like that I might have to add another assault charge to my stellar resume.

Three 6 Mafia: I have got to admit something, I'm in a weird place when it comes to criticising black art of any kind. Let me explain. I know that many black folks, myself included, feel that we should make our forefathers who never had the opportunities that we have proud. I think that most black artists, consciously or subconsciously, feel a responsibility to represent the race as a whole in a positive light, based of misrepresentation or lack thereof. For many this is a blessing, and to others it's a burden, and sometimes I understand both sides of that particular arguement. For example. One of my favorite shows is "My Name is Earl", fantastic writing and a truly funny show. But I imagine if I wrote that show, and had the main character who plays "Earl" be a black man, I do feel that a great number of my people would support my efforts, but I also feel that every self righteous black group would call for a boycott of my show. The NAACP, possibly even my hero Spike Lee, would come out against my show as a "new age cooining", and ask me questions like "How can I have a black man play a Bum, who only gets success from a lottery ticket??" When I think about that, the proud black man that I am who only wanted to put something funny out there in the sake of art, sometimes I feel that some black artists can't win for losing.

Then we have Three Six mafia, who I witnessed win an Oscar as I basked in Theraflu fluids like it was the "fountain of youth" liquid in that fucking Cocoon pool. Yes I'm a critic of most Hip Hop that I don't consider real. Yes, I do think that most rappers nowadays have reverted to a modern day minstrel show. Plus, my specific feelings for Three 6 mafia would make any die hard fan of theirs contemplate kidnapping my mama with an apology being the randsom. But right when I started to disregard my feelings and say to myself "At least some brother's won an Oscar", I immediately had to be snapped back into reality for all the times I blasted black folks for praising incompetent Condi Rice simply because she is a "sister in a high position". Even though I said earlier that I felt funny criticizing black art earlier, well fuck that, because it is my feeling that those brothers are a poor example of the great genre Hip Hop is. Plus, isn't it "Harder out here for" a single mother, or an American with no health care, shit, it's harder out here for a conscious rap artists who want to make a living.