Tuesday, October 31, 2006

Bondage Girl: My 7th Date

Right when I thought I'd put away my midget sized condoms, forget about that pipe dream of trying to find a healthy woman who I could infect with my demon seed, and swear off all women except for the ones named "Lexus", "Alize", and "Bambi", a woman from my past comes into the picture and rocks my feeble world. See, more than a decade ago I was madly in love with this woman named Carmen, who I distinctly remember having an ass that men should be forced to pray to, thighs that could suffocate men to the most pleasurable of deaths, tits so mind altering that they could force me to like the proverbial wackness of Jim Jones, and on top of that she is the only woman on record who claimed she enjoyed my penis.(Oh yeah, she was smart, classy, funny, and loved Hip Hop.) She was a "keeper" in every sense of the word, but since I can fuck up a free lunch and a free blowjob from a toothless whore on payday, I sabotaged that relationship like I had done every other one in my shameful dating history. After I was emotionally distant, inconsiderate, and a plethora of other deplorable adjectives breaking down your classic asshole boyfriend, she still stuck around. That was until I did something absolutely horrible.

You see, to spice up our relationship sometimes we would agree to meet up at a certain club at a specific time, pretend we were strangers, and role play until I was slipping off her Lane Bryants and trying my best to reach her small intestines. Well, her last straw was when we had planned to rendezvous at a club one night, act like we were strangers once again, then go back to the crib to fuck like two test bunnies. Problem was I got there before her and saw a few of my friends and had a few too many drinks, got fucked up, and forgot that she was even in the equation. To make matters worse I had left the bar with my buddies to go bar hopping. Not only did I stand her up and not go through with our "relationship ritual" as planned, I left her stranded because little did I know that she had wanted to become intimately acquainted with the backseat of my hooptie. Our relationship pretty much died that night, and soon after we broke up like The Beatles, and it seemed like my insensitivity and my wandering cock played the role of Yoko. I hadn't talked to her in years, that was until I found her on myspace!!

Date #7: Bondage Girl: I know, myspace has gotten the bad rap of being a haven for pedophiles and sexual deviants across the globe, I understand that. It's also a place where your musical sensibilities are constantly insulted by the plethora of crappy bands you are subjected to, I'm pretty sure many of you agree with me there. But if you are a chubby pervert like myself, a dude who has offered women free drinks if they said something dirty in my ear so I could masturbate to it later, myspace is my mecca in terms of trolling for new ass and finding ex-girlfriends. That's how I found Carmen, I dropped her are very phony "Hey, is this who I think it is" message, and hoped that she responded with something kinder than "You puny dick motherfucker!!" Not only did she respond, she was so enthusiastic about reconnecting that she immediately suggested that we hook up for a couple of drinks. I'm paranoid by nature, and it seemed way too easy, did she have a secret plan to jump me with her lesbian lover, a lover that only existed because I turned her off to men because of my deplorable actions?? I was horny, so my genitalia had the upper hand over my paranoia, so I met her for drinks.

Things went well, she told me about her life, her accomplishments, but I seriously couldn't tell you what they were because her body had matured with time like a fine wine, a vintage automobile, or Michael Jordan's jump shot. I found it amazing that she didn't bring up some of the horrible things that I did to her, I wasn't going to bring it up, I could actually see myself getting some ass like watching a gay donkey show and I wasn't going to fuck that up. So we get to her house, get on the couch, and continue to do this irritating thing called "talking" that is cutting into my penetration time. Then she asks me, "How do you feel about being tied up??" I said, "I guess I don't have a problem with it, as long as you don't take off with my wallet, or decide that you want to use a strap-on on me without my consent." She said, "No, I mean like REALLY tied up, hardcore!!" I had no idea what this loony chick was talking about, I'm a standard guy when it comes to sex, I just wanted to pump a few times and take a nervous clinic visit in 6 months.

That's when she broke out these huge photo albums of her being tied up extremely hard, to the point that the ropes were breaking her skin, and many of them were of her with a gag in her mouth with tears flowing down her face. I wanted to be shocked but I wasn't, I actually felt sexually inadequate. I mean, if this chick is into some freaky shit like this, she has probably had more foreign objects rammed inside her than a porn star of a world tour, how big are her yawns going to be as my chubby ass is fucking her, yelling "Yeah baby, I bet you've never been fucked by a chubby writer who thinks Hip Hop is dead, Huh?? You like that???" I probably could have gotten some ass if I had a better poker face, I'm sure she read the worry on my face and took that as me judging her lifestyle, so she gave me the classic "I have to get up in the morning..aka We won't be swapping fluids tonight asshole" spiel. I thought I had royally fucked up again, that was until I noticed that she wanted to add me as a myspace friend today, lets hope when we get together again she doesn't try to put my nuts in a hangman's noose.

HumanityCritic Goes Negative: My Ad Attacking George Allen

You always can tell when a public figure is racist or not, if they have to haul out some miserable black motherfucker to shuck and jive and say "I've known him/her all my life, and him/her don't have a racist bone in their body!!" That was the case this past weekend when Deacon Jones, Hall of Fame Los Angeles Rams defensive end, was campaigning with George "Maccaca" Allen at a local event. They were at a Sports Bar named "Roger Brown's" when Mr. Jones said something to the effect of "I've known George when he was in high school, and he doesn't have a racist bone in his body!!" Negro, sit your black ass down somewhere!!! Remember a few years ago when Fuzzy Zoeller had made that "chicken and watermelon" comment about Tiger Woods, and after the backlash he brought out some old black caddy(probably the actual Bagger Vance and shit) to tell people what a nice guy he was and that he WASN'T racist. Man, when will some white people learn that the "But I have black friends!!" argument is as weak as a Jim Jones freestyle. Anyway, since our television is bombarded with negative ads this political season, I thought I would come up with my own against own against George Allen.

The Target: Black Folks

(opening music is the National Anthem)

The African American voters have a difficult decision come election day. On the one hand you have Jim Webb, a highly decorated Vietnam veteran, an accomplished layer, a best selling novelist, a man who served in the U.S. Congress as counsel to the House Committee on Veterans Affairs from l977 to l98l, becoming the first Vietnam veteran to serve as a full committee counsel in the Congress, and a man who fought for including an African American soldier in the Vietnam Veterans memorial statue on the National Mall.

On the other hand, you have George Allen..

(The banjo "Deliverance" theme kicks in)

Did you know he has been known to have a sick infatuation with the Confederate flag since he was in High School? Whether having one in his car, office, his home, it was even part of his first TV campaign ad for governor in 1993. Do you really want to vote for a man who masturbates to a symbol of slavery and Jim Crow laws??

It was reported that George Allen contacted the Council of Conservative Citizens(CCC), one of the largest white supremacist groups in the country. I guess those stories of you shoving decapitated deer heads in the mailboxes of black folks as a teenager just wasn't hateful enough, huh George??

Then we have the infamous "Macaca" moment, a word that you claimed came straight out of thin air. Yeah George, the thin air around a lynch-mob maybe. It has been reported that the word "Macaca" is a racist slur in francophone African nations, and we all know that his mother grew up in French-Colonial Tunisia so we know where George heard it from. Virginians, you know a guy is a racist when he has a million and one ways to call you a "n*gger".

(music changes to the National anthem, and a picture of Jim Webb emerges)

Jim Webb has a fire inside of him to make Virginia a much better place to live.

(music returns to the "Deliverance" theme, and a picture of George Allen returns)

George Allen has a fire inside of him as well, and he wants to use it to burn crosses in your front yard!!!

Virginians, can you really vote for a motherfucker with the middle name of "Felix"??


Paid for by the HCDSF, The HumanityCritic Detests Snuggling Foundation

Video of the Day: 3rd Bass: "Steppin' to the A.M."

CONGRESSMAN CALL ME



This is a funny response ad to that racist one that the Republican party put out against Harold Ford Jr.

Thursday, October 26, 2006

HumanityCritic's advice for Presidential hopeful Barack Obama

I know in this age of self pity and people not taking responsibility for their actions, me blaming my father for many of my many issues would be as lame as a Wayne Brady rap album. Yes, I feel that my violent tendencies come from the sporadic verbal venom that seemed completely unmanageable out of his mandible. I was told that I "wasn't shit" so much that not only did I think I'd live the rest of my life in perpetual constipation, but my self esteem at times has been as low as suicidal midgets. But all of that is water under the bridge, the man has been dead for five years for Christs sake, and like I told this chick who once wanted me to fuck her ever so discreetly in the back of a club, "It's time to pull that skirt up so we can get to business!!" But the dude had many good things about him, he was a Vietnam vet and served in the Navy for 30 years, he could fix pretty much anything, he provided food and shelter, and sometimes he would give me some pretty kick ass advice.

Like when he said: "If a girl swallows the first time she blows you, she definitely isn't marriage material!" Or when I was a kid and this bully was giving me some trouble and he said "Go over there and hit that motherfucker with a brick. When he is one the ground, stomp on his knees until you get tired. Sure, he will walk with a limp, but he will remember that ass whipping for the rest of his life." But the piece of advice that will stick with me forever, are the words he uttered from his death bed: "It's better to die on your feet, than to live on your knees!!!" Immediately I thought he was talking about prison rape, and how it is better for me to die protecting this sweet ass of mine, than to become someones bitch, getting my anal cavity remodeled so I could store luggage, wash a guy named Tiny's underwear by hand, and walk around holding some jackasses pocket as a sign of ownership(Yes, I'm terrified of being penetrated without my consent)

But I know what he meant, fight for what you believe in, never compromise, never be silent, and be willing to die for your beliefs. That very lengthy introduction leads me to the news that Barack Obama is seriously considering running for President of the United States. When I first heard this it was upsetting, I mean, me and him share a lot of the same beliefs and he seems like a good representative of our country, I just didn't want the brother to get shot. But then I thought about what my father said, no, not "Asian pussy is to die for!!" but "It's better to die on your feet, than to live on your knees". If Barack feels he can be HNIC, godspeed, but I suggest that he follows the following advice:

Pay off ex-girlfriends: As far as I can tell Barack Obama seems like a pretty stand up guy, but even the most decent of dudes have skeletons in their closets. Usually those random bones come in the form of ex-girlfriends, so it would be beneficial to Mr. Obama if he paid these treacherous harlots as soon as possible. I mean, you don't want it to come out that you once were on the business end of a pair of beads, the fact that you made an ex of yours dress up like Foxy Brown before sexual relations, your habit of humming the "Smurfs" theme while ejaculating, or how you used to throw women out of your house approximately 2 seconds after climaxing.(Ok, the last two are my worries if I ever became president) So I suggest that you keep them quiet via some sort of payment, along with a cryptic "Keep you fucking mouth shut or else!!" Let them interpret the "for else" how they want, I've noticed that even implying that you are a bad ass gets your point across.


Hire the S1W's for protection:
I know that we have heard black comedians say for the longest time that the first black president will probably be targeted for assassination while giving his inauguration speech. Unfortunately, there is a grim reality behind the comedy, there are so many sick fucks out there who will want to see Mr. Obama taken out because the color of his skin. Take it from me, I'm from Virginia, and if I had a nickel for every time I heard some inbred fuck talk about wanting to "Kill Clinton", I would have enough weed and whore money to last 2 lifetimes. As much as people joke and say that Clinton was our "first black president", Mr. Obama will literally be our first black president, so you can just imagine how many fundamentalists and militia groups want to end Mr. Obama's presidency prematurely. I have a solution, hire Public Enemy's Security of the 1st World, better known as the S1W's. They would sweep the area for any would-be snipers, they would aggressively frisk anybody(press corp, well known reporters, they would even make David Letterman stick out his tongue for razor blades), they would penetrate and dismantle militia groups even if they had no plans to harm the president. Just imagine how cool it would be to see the S1W's precede Barack Obama before press conferences, wearing all black and stepping in unison. Besides, when someone asks a silly question, Professor Griff would say "What kind of question is that? Ask that again and I will make your nose bone stab your brain. Next question!!" Also, whenever Barack says something profound, the S1W's will scream out "The revolution has been in effect . . . go get a late pass !"


Beware of white women:
Don't get the title twisted, I have said from day one that if I had to chance to be with my sweet Janeane Garofalo, I would take her to a Nation of Islam meeting while snacking on a rib sandwich. That being said, we all know that there is a healthy fear of the black man by a shitload of Americans out there. Let's look at two controversial examples, when Madonna put out that "Like a Prayer" video, and last year when people were upset at the indecency of Nicollette Sheridan taking off her towel in that commercial with Terrel Owens. People weren't upset that Madonna's video was somehow sacrilegious, people were pissed that she kissed a black guy. People weren't upset that the commercial with T.O was sexually suggestive, they were mad that she disrobed and gave a naked hug to a black guy. Mr. Obama, your presidency should be about inclusion and rejecting racial prejudice, just make sure your wife is in the shot whenever you are pictured with a white woman.

Show people that you are tough: The one downside about Barack Obama, according to most political junkies, is his lack of foreign policy experience. So suffice it to say, if somehow a person with melanin is the next occupant of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, Obama will have to quickly prove to the American people that he is not to be fucked with. I'm talking about going to the office of one his opponents after they say some negative things about him in the press, on some "Puffy visiting Steve Stoute after the uncut version of "Hate Me Now" shit, gently tapping a bat in the palm of his hand saying "What was that shit you said about me on "Hardball" motherfucker??" Even before you become Commander-in-chief, during the presidential debates, after you eloquently state your point tell your opponent "Now, we can handle this like gentlemen or we can get into some gangsta shit??" As President, if diplomacy fails with another country, make a dis record. Sanctions, shmanctions, that's all lip service, but the world will know you mean business if you have a track that includes the lines: "I'm an amazing specimen and a blazing thespian/ Kim Jong Ill is a coward who looks like an Asian lesbian!!"

Video of the Day: Nas: "Halftime"

Hey HumanityCritic, what in the fuck are you doing with this in your ipod? Eurythmics : "Sweet Dreams"

Tuesday, October 24, 2006

Another Edition of "HumanityCritic's Asshole moments"


As much as I've tried to resist it, because it constantly causes me to ruin more relationships than my cock does, I have come to terms with the fact that I will always embrace my inner asshole. I've had therapy, took a tai-chi classe, went through a plethora of breathing exercises, even fucked a Buddhist chick recently, but no matter what tactic I use I feel I will never be able to control what comes out of my mouth. Because of this fact, my friend Randy likens my existence to the Yankees, because either you are going to love me or absolutely loathe me. I mean, at the end of the day we all want to be generally liked right?? Based on that I try my best to keep certain things to myself, but lately I've come to grips with the fact that I suffer from Turrets, the type that assholes have. Here are a few examples.

My Christian friend's new Bride: I have a good friend named Mark, who after many years of snorting cocaine off of the deviant asses of prostitutes and putting his penis in more dangerous situations than a reporter in Iraq, decided to become a born again christian. I believe in God, but I'm a heathen, so when it comes to religion I have a bad taste in my mouth similar to alter boys after post-coidal priest sex. As a friend I tried to be supportive, as he lectured me about my deviant sexual habits with the opposite sex, but I usually ended up giggling and reminding him how I used to call him "The Proctologist" based on the mass amounts of girls who he screwed in their most naughty of orifices. Anyway, when Mark told me he was getting married I was truly happy for him, I didn't even have anything smart to say, that was until he told me that his bride to be was a virgin. With a fart smelling frown on my face I asked, "She's 35 and a virgin?? Bullllshiiiit!" He looked at me with the confidence of Superman when faced with a handgun-weilding criminal, he said "She has waited until her wedding day to give herself to me, and if you had any concept of loving the lord you would understand HumanityCritic!!!' I was going to just let it go, but I just had to say "That doesn't make since. I mean, if someone told you that they had a 1972 Nova with under 50,000 miles you would think they were full of shit. No offense, but by the looks of your bride to be, the odometer has flipped a few times, that's the only reason it appears that she has low mileage!!"

He didn't speak to me for a while after that, that was until after the wedding when he called me 3am one morning. He said, "HumanityCritic, you were right!!" I knew what he was talking about immediately, so I said "She wasn't a virgin huh? She was so wide it was like a ringer in a cowbell huh?? A Slim Jim in a whales mouth?? Her vagina was the proverbial clown-car right??" After a few more asshole-worthy comparisons later he stopped me, confirmed what I was saying, and told me that she sobbingly admitted that she has had more cocks in her than a chicken coop. There was a long silence on the phone, so I ended our conversation with "Look on the bright side, look at all the years and the "come on girl, it's just protein" conversations you have saved yourself just to get her to swallow."

Talking my way out of panties:If there was a Guiness Book of World Records for talking yourself out of sex, I would win by leaps and bounds. A recent example was the other night as I was having a few drinks at the fancy smancy bar across town. I forgot how exactly I was talking to this busty Latina, but all I know is that she was hanging on my every word and she was laughing hysterically at jokes that weren't even funny. I definitely saw ass in my near future, so all I had to do was put my mouth on auto-pilot and not fuck it up. She said some good things about Bush, I didn't ruin it, she said she hated Kobe Bryant, I didn't crack, she expressed her love for Reggae-ton, I was like one of those fucking beef-eaters in London and shit. That's when she asked me, "What would I have to say that would make you run for the hills?" That's when I said, unfortunately, "Um.. I don't know, if you had like six kids all by different daddy's and shit??!!" Come to find out, she had 5 kids by 5 different daddy's..

Respect for my elders: There is an old black man that frequents a bar that I go to, a pretty nice guy outside of his Uncle Tom Nature, his ill-advised insults, and bathing habits that make me think that he baths when Bush's approval numbers are over 50%. Anyway, based on his advanced age and his preacher like delivery of speech, I call him "Old Negro Spiritual". He hates that nickname and I don't give a fuck, but that isn't exactly the asshole part. Apparently this black chick named Pearl, for some reason, thinks that "ONS" has a lot of money stashed somewhere. Because of this she will flirt with him, put here tits in his face, and give him mini-lap dances on a regular basis. Everyone tells him that he should put some of his geriactric love inside of her, but he refuses because he feels that she will give him some sort of disease. Unfortuantely, this is what I told him: "Dude, you are a few breaths away from a dirt nap anyway, what does it matter if she gives you a disease?? Shit man, in the game of life your crusty ass is in double fucking overtime, go for yours for Christs sake!!"


I beat up Kevin Federline:
Ok, it wasn't the real K-Fed with Rhyme skills so horrible he makes lil Kim look like Rakim, but it had to be his biggest fan in the world. See, I was going to see my friend's band perform at some local shit-hole, so when I approached the bar I gave my boy a pound(handshake) and one of those half hugs heterosexual men give each other. Apparently, while greeting my friend I had slightly bumped into this fellow that had a baseball cap on, unkept hair and beard, baggy jeans, and a wife beater, the best candidate for Kevin Federlines fan club I'd say. Anyway, he looks at me and says, "Watch what the fuck you're doing nigga!!" Immediately I could tell that he used that racial slur the same way black folks use it as a term of endearment(I'm not condoning either) based on his "blaccent", and the black friends around him. Without thinking, or even trying to be civil about it, I immediately punched dude in the face, stood over his body and said "Stay down or I will choke you to death with your wife beater!!" It was an overreaction and I knew it, but at least I could hide behind the fact that he called me a racial slur.

Video of the Day: Sir Mixalot: "Posse on Broadway"

Bill Maher: Think Tanks



Now that the country seems to be in proverbial shambles, and Bush's approval numbers are lower than Nixon's post Watergate, there are so many people I want to get reconnected with. Like that yuppie chick I was arguing with at a bar a few years ago, claiming that she would call fried potatoes "Freedom Fries" from now on. Where is that dirty harlot right about now? I wish I could have a chat with all those people who told me that they were voting for Bush in 04' because he was a "strong leader". I'd be curious to see what their current opinion is of our 43rd president's leadership skills. Or how about all those Black Christians that I know who voted for George W. Bush solely on the abortion issue?? I'd like to see if they are kicking themselves based on being an inbred single issue voter. The following clip of Bill Maher just shows you how many catch phrases have fallen flat, and all the predictions that never materialized.

Who killed the Electric Car? Trailer



A very important movie that I highly reccomend.

Friday, October 20, 2006

The Preacher's wife..: My 6th Date

I don't know if girls do this, hell, I wouldn't be surprised if I was the only guy who did this, but I find myself thinking about the "ones that git away" a lot lately. Like Samantha, a Jamaican girl originally from Jersey, she would have done anything for me but I was too busy chasing my MC dreams and girls who were sexually faster than Florence Griffith Joyner. Then we had Kianna, a southern girl who believed that a good meal could solve all the worlds problems, besides her culinary skills she had an ass so big that when we she rode me backwards it felt like a couple of midgets punching me in the stomach. I think I left her because I didn't want to be "tied down". But the one that truly haunts my daydreams of regret is a woman that I dated named Sheila, not only did she have beauty, brains, and the ability to make one hell of a post sex sandwich, I distinctly remembering her kicking a guy in the head after I had knocked him out in a random bar room altercation. Even though I don't exactly remember why I broke up with her in the first place, I emotionally kick myself every day because she was the epitome of wifey material. I mean, where else would I find a woman who got off on giving oral, enjoyed seeing me be rude to people, and would be a sympathetic enabler to my random acts of bar-room violence.

She has been on my mind though, I don't know if it was because I was simply reflecting on my life or simply because I was trying to conjure up as many masturbatory thoughts as humanly possible. Then, wouldn't you know it, I ran into her at the grocery store by my house. **Quick Commercial Break** Let me pause this story for a minute, I have to ask you a question. Why is it that whenever you run into someone of importance, they always look immaculate and you look like a complete piece of dog shit. She was wearing some sort of summer dress, the easy access kind(if you know what I mean), she smelled like what I'd imagine what Willy Wonka's factory must smell like, and she had a peaceful beauty about her like she just finished running through a wheat field and shit. Me, I just finished playing basketball so I had on black Adidas, camouflage shorts, Public Enemy t-shirt, my hair needed to be tightened up, and I'm pretty sure I smelled like a combination of a bum's nut sack and extremely old cabinets. OK, back to our regularly scheduled program.**

Anyway, we talked a bit, found out that we were both single, and I figured that my arm pit sweat was so intoxicating that I conned her into going on a date with me. Here's how it went.

Date #6: The Preachers Wife: Let me tell you, nothing makes a lazy, anti-social bastard like myself happier than hearing a woman say that she wants the date to start and end at her residence. I mean, I wasn't going to play myself and try to consummate our reunion the right way, but if I said that I didn't have visions of me pumping for 2 minutes, getting up with a bewildered look on my face and saying "My bad" wasn't in the back of my mind, I'd be lying. So I go the door, wine and semi-erect penis and all, and as she opens the door I see her looking around kind of nervously. I didn't think nothing of it at the time. I walk into a beautiful 6 bedroom house, and immediately she ushers me to a table full of food, which was weird because I thought we would shoot the shit a little first. What was supposed to be a simple dinner looked like a spread that you would have to feed hungry soldiers, or a small snack for Reuben Studdard, I felt like I was in a virtually realty version of "Soul Food".(not the Showtime series with that Darren "Dance grooves" fuck either.)

While we are chowing down I notice her trying to mask how uncomfortable she is, flashing insincere smiles and replying to my questions like she is being forced to by gun point. But after a while she seems a litle more comfortable, she starts laughing at my corny jokes, we start to reminisce on old times, she slides her chair closer to mine, she randomly touches my hand during conversation, she doesn't seem to mind when she catches me talking to her boobs. It was then when this thought crept into my head :I'M GOING TO GET SOME ASS!! Yaaay!! Do you know how infrequently I fuck, I'm sure has-been schmucks like Gary Coleman and that ugly Snap "I got the power!!" dude have a more extensive arsenal of on-call ass than I do, so I immediately grew a chubby, fuck it, a motherfucking baby arm!!

Next I attempted something that has gotten me slapped many a time, I reached over, grabbed her face, and kissed her with all the untamed passion a chubby insecure guy could muster. The thing is, she didn't stop me, then I found myself making out with her on top of the table we were eating at, there's something sexy about getting ready to fuck someone next to a bowl of mash potatoes. Then, right when I'm thanking myself for being arrogant enough to bring condoms and sliding her panties down, she says "Wait, Wait.. I can't do this.. HumanityCritic, I'm married." Because I wanted to penetrate her in the worse way imaginable, I said, "So, I'm a Virgo. Let's do this!!" But she made it clear that we weren't bumping uglies, so as we sat next to each other she told me that she was legally married, but she was getting a divorce soon. When she noticed that "in that case, lets fuck" look on my face, she said "HumanityCritic, he's a preacher!!" Then I was like, "That's more reason for us to have sex, that guy is probably touching little boys penises right now!!", in which she replied "Wrong religion asshole".

I tried every tactic in the book but she wasn't buying, she wanted to stay faithful to her husband even though he didn't have the same exemplary track record. I guess I'll have a steady flow of ass in a couple of months when the divorce is final, but that didn't stop me from trying to get mine. I pointed to the tent that I was pitching in my pants and asked her, "How about a mouth-hug for old times sake??", that didn't work, "How about a hand-job, just pretend you are downshifting!!", that didn't work, and when I said "How about you dance seductively while rapping the words to "Paid in Full" while I masturbate??", and that's when she threw me out.

Ask HumanityCritic..

I would have thought that my blog is the proverbial smoking gun document, proving that I'm the last person on earth who should be giving anyone advice. Since I'm a few pounds overweight I can see if people asked me about proper buffet etiquette, since I have a history of violence I'd be useful to anyone wanting to know the correct way to throw a nose shattering elbow, and since I'm an insufferable prick I can understand if people asked for my assistance in ruining a relationship. But so many people email me with legitimate concerns beyond my scope of expertise I want to wave them along like a cop at a murder scene, "move along, there's nothing to see here!" But then I thought about it, I'm pretty goof at giving advice, I'm just horrible about following it. So, here is another episode of "Ask HumanityCritic"..

HumanityCritic, I love my girl to death but she loves the worst forms of Hip Hop(see Mike Jones, Weezy, and D4L). What do I do? Rob from Michigan

Well Rob, I was thinking about telling you to leave her ass immediately and giving you a "there are other fish in the sea" spiel, but since you're in love I'll think this one out. This is going to sound harsh, but if you constantly criticize her tastes in music you might give her a complex about it, which is a good thing. Whenever she mentions one of the rappers you named say some shit like, "That's not hip hop, those are strip club rappers!", make vomit sounds whenever she is bumping the latest Lil Wayne tune, when you are handling her CD's act like you are picking up feces, you know the "tip of the finger" approach. If that doesn't work, tie her ass down, put some headphones on her, and play "It Takes A Nation of Millions.." on a 48 hour loop. That might work.

HumanityCritic, whenever my brother-in-law comes over for dinner I always seem to be the butt of all his jokes. I don't want to say anything back because he is in a wheelchair, what should I do? Shawn, Virginia

Shawn, read this carefully, TIP HIS HANDICAPPED ASS OVER!!! I'm serious, I subscribe to the belief system that anyone is eligible for an ass-whipping. Listen, adults are no different than kids, if you let them run you over too long they will be absolutely out of control, so you have to spank that ass ever so often. If he talks shit, talk shit back, if he continues to talk shit walk over and tip his chair over and kick him in his dead legs.(He won't feel it anyway) Your wife might be mad at you for a while, but that motherfucker will think twice before he gives you shit again.


HumanityCritic, I know you loathe Black republicans but many black folks have turned that way because they feel the democrats take them for granted. What do you think? Crystal, Hawaii


I said this on another site, but I concede the fact that Democrats have taken black folks for granted and wouldn't be mad if someone went with a 3rd party candidate. But all those black folks who claim they are now republicans based on being taken for granted are full of shit, tell them I said that, I'm not hard to find. It's bullshit because it's like jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire, its like quitting a hit sitcom just to wind up in B-Movies, its like changing cells because one inmate talks too much and winding up in a cell where the guy has a pro-anal rape agenda. It just doesn't make any fucking sense.

HumanityCritic, you once criticized Dead Prez based on their stance of not voting because of the "evil of two lessers" argument. Do you care to elaborate? Malik, Tennessee

Not only do I think that that stance is intellectually lazy, but it encourages a sort of ignorance that the person is trying to desperately dress up as being "politically aware". Listen, if you feel that all politicians are "evil" then fine, but please don't give me the "those guys are all the same" nonsense. I'll tell you why that's bullshit: I'm not saying that Al Gore is a savior or anything, but do you think we would be in the state of chaos that we're in right now if he was our president. The lesser of two evils is looking pretty fucking good right about now.

HumanityCritic, I read on-line that Buffy the Body wants to be an actress. What do you think about that? Deb, North Carolina

Like an "actress-actress"?? That's what I don't get about these girls who got famous shaking their ass who suddenly want to become successful actresses. I'm not trying to crush her dreams, but she should be in a production that I would financially support, like porn. I know I'm not alone in saying that I'd rather see Buffy on the business end of a triple penetration, and not reciting lines somewhere. Ladies, I know I'm a pig, but the only lines I want to hear her recite are: "Oh HumanityCritic, it feels like your stabbing my small intestines!!"(..and scene!) But seriously though, she would better suited if she used her natural assets.(Ass-sets-get it?? I crack myself up sometime, like Humpty Dumpty with a cooked cocaine habit)

HumanityCritic, why don't you have anyone linked? What bloggers do you suggest? Dan, Ohio

The only reason I don't have people linked is because I'm a computer retard, and my blog template is jacked up like intergalactic car thieves. Who do I suggest? This guy is a great blogger and my homey, another homey with a dope blog, definitely this dude, she holds it down, can't forget about him, this guy. You know what, I have to get my template fixed so I can show you all the cats I'm feeling.


HumanityCritic, you are from VA, why don't you get any of the artists from your area love?? John Newport News, Va


I respect Pharrell, even though I'm the furthest thing from a loyal consumer of his merchandise. Missy's music irritates me like Fran Drescher's voice, but I respect her as a person though. But based on the fact that I think basing your career on a drug past that is non-existent, I do have a problem with the Clipse though.

HumanityCritic, why haven't you talked about your Bears lately? They are 5-0, what gives? Jenn Illinois

Yes, I'm a fan of the Bears, but I don't want to jinx my team by excessively talking about them. We saw what my rambling did for my Lakers.

Video of the Day: Common: "Resurrection"

Some Friday Soul for that Ass: Al Green "Sweet Sixteen"

Wednesday, October 18, 2006

Not for nothing, but Vh1 Hip Hop Honors sucked complete ass.

Solely on the strength of Big Daddy Kane setting the stage ablaze at last years Vh1 Hip Hop honors, I was more than curious to see how this years edition would turn out. For a guy pretty cynical when it comes to any so called Hip Hop "publication", or any network playing real Hip Hop in a "lets give the peasants crumbs" move, I was pretty open minded before I sat down to witness what would later be a monumental time waster. Yes, I can be objective, even though I hate Cam'ron I must admit that he did a serviceable job in the movie "Paid in Full", I resisted "Brown Sugar" for months but when I finally saw it it wasn't half bad, and when I listened to my friends Jim Jones album..well, that shit was as pathetic as a Courtney Love pap-smear. Anyway, here are some of the things that went through my mind as I watched this monstrosity.

Pre-Show Freestyle: Where did they get these two guys from, were they extras off of a Bubba Sparks video shoot?? Like a boyfriend praying to god that his girlfriend isn't pregnant, I was anxiously awaiting to see any flow at all. There is only one thing worse than hearing bad singing, and ladies and gentlemen that is bad rapping. Ok, these guys are wack, but this shouldn't dictate the rest of the night.

Beastie Boys Tribute: Even though I feel that Tracy Morgan is as funny as a Prostate exam, I could forgive his deplorable introduction because I wanted to see the three white New Yorkers that all of us have grown to love. But when I saw Q-Tip, Fabulous, and Puffy come out and do "Hold It Now, Hit It" and "Paul Revere" in old school gear, like a porn tape featuring just fellatio this had "suck" written all over it. I have love for Q-Tip, but Puffy and Fabulous?? What, MC Brains wasn't available?? Right before the meal that I had previous eaten came back up, the Beasties finally performed. I don't have anything bad to say about those dudes, except for the fact that their DJ should be beaten within an inch of his life for mixing that "Breathe" track during their performance.

MC Lyte Tribute: Since MC Lyte is one of my personal favorites, I really hoped that they would do her some justice based on her legendary status. Regina King, a woman that I can't hear from this point forward without thinking about "The Boondocks", gave a fitting introduction and proved that she is indeed a Hip Hop fan. But the tribute was considerably sub-par, with Da Brat(an MC that is the epitome of unfulfilled potential), Remy Ma(a product of the horrible landscape of females in Hip Hop), and Lil Kim.. Wait a minute, Lil Kim, a woman that I consider to be a diseased vagina with the ability to rhyme on beat, who invited her ass?? (I've never before wanted a black woman to stay her ass in prison.) Anyway, I witnessed all three women stumble with "Cha Cha Cha," "Kickin' 4 Brooklyn" and "Lyte as a Rock."(I'm sure that Lil Kim is called "Lips and Lungs" in some circles, but didn't we all know that she didn't have the breath control for "Lyte as a Rock".) Not to pile on to the walking germ farm, but isn't her appearance blasphemy based on Lyte once saying: "Do not say shit until you write your own rhymes!!"

As I watched Lyte perform "Paper Thin", I thought to myself "Why are they having everyone come down those enormous flight of stairs?? Jesus!!" Even though its probably her most popular song, I hate the fact that she performed "Ruffneck".

Rakim Tribute: I wasn't too mad at this and Black Thought did his thing, but the fact that Talib gave a rather "Rain-man"-like performance during the tribute, and the mere sight of Styles P made me long for plenty of alcohol later that night. Yes, Raekwon seemed out of place, but it was good to see Rakim bless the mic and prove that he's the best that has ever done it. It was also good to see him perform some new material, usually a cardinal sin, but if anyone could pull it off it was him. All that being said, shouldn't his segment been later on??

Ice Cube Tribute: I always say that "Death Certificate" is my favorite album of all time, and that Ice Cube is one of my favorite rappers on the strength of his career from 89-92', but everything that he has done yet has either been some West coast anthem or some song to shake your ass to.(Remember his line, "But I don't party and shake my butt/I leave that to the brothers with the funny haircuts".. I guess that's "growth"..) Anyway, Mike Epps proved that he wouldn't be suited to host the bar mitzvah of a retarded kid, Xzibit and WC were the best thing for narcolepsy since Nyquil, and Lil John was, well, the sambo embarrassment that he usually is. I couldn't even tell you what song Cube did, because at this point I was dialing up some miscellaneous ass.(I mean, nothing will make me forget about wackness like worrying about a venereal disease.)

Easy E Tribute: If I used any sentence with the words "Young Jeezy, Bone Thugs, and Lil Eazy E" in it you know it would be a recipe for disaster, like having Irritable Bowel Syndrome and eating Mexican food. By this time I was getting my porn collection in order, not alphabetically, but by the porn actresses real names, that's how bored I was. We all know how I feel about Jeezy and Bone Thugs, and may I say Rest In Peace to Eazy, but when Stevie Wonder passes on, just because he has a son doesn't mean I want his ass to attempt to recreate his classics. I'm saying. (By the way, these fools had 40oz's)

Russell Simmons: Russ is a legend, there is no doubt about that, but if I saw Diddy one more time I think I would have taken my own life. Black Ice did his thing with the spoken word piece(they should have used him with some of the MC duties earlier), and DJ Lovebug Starski and DJ Kid Capri did their best to honor the only black guy I know who's into yoga. But it did seem a bit cluttered, and Russell looked noticeably uncomfortable.

Afrika Bambaataa Tribute: When I listen to my boy selfra talk to me about The Zulu Nation not only do I learn something, I remember why I will love Hip Hop until my dying day. I respect Bambaataa like any blue-blooded Hip Hop lover, but the performance honoring him seemed rather chaotic and unfocused. It seemed like it was thrown together like shit against a wall, or a Boy Band. I mean, Fat Joe, again?? There were people in said performance that I respect, like Erykah Badu, Q-Tip, and Bootsy Collins, but it sounded like you were in a car manufacturing factory, only with a funkier beat. But this is the first time I noticed how monumentally wack the audience was, were they this comatose the entire night??

Wu-Tang Tribute: I have to quote my home-girl Geekgirl-Elitist in an email she sent me: "The worst posse reunion ever, and the niggas still couldn't get it the fuck together." Yeah, I agree, what was that shit?? Not only that, it seemed like Vh1 gave them the least time humanly possible..




Final Thoughts: I know throughout the history of this blog I come across as a hater, usually a title that I embrace by the way, but this time its more than that. If you deliver lyrics that make you unworthy to hold that coveted microphone, then I fucking hate you. If you call yourself a DJ but lack the necessary skills, and on top of that you can't even get the party started, then I fucking hate you. Also, if you are a channel worth a shitload of money and can't put on a decent show honoring the greats, then I also fucking hate you. Some people would want me to be satisfied that they are honoring real Hip Hop at all, but I refuse to settle on some slave "at least massa is giving us the bad part of the pig" mentality. Even though I'm sure that there are great people over at VH1, I have come to the conclusion that you can't represent the art-form truthfully as long as you play "Chingy" and have a show called "Flavor of Love" on your network. I know some great Hip Hop journalists personally and feel that their convictions are pure, but you can't articulate the true lifeline of Hip Hop as long as the other pages of said magazine are discussing D4L, Jim Jones, or some other abomination disguised as Hip Hop.

These types of women absolutely love me!!!

Don't get it twisted, just because I nickname my genitalia "The Black Myth Ruiner", and I go on and on about not getting a decent piece of ass to write home about since the Clinton Impeachment hearings, don't think that I don't get approached by the ladies. I'm a decent enough looking guy, I always dress casually but not to the point that I should be holding a sign on the side of the road somewhere, I occasionally hold doors for women, and I have the proverbial poker face so strangers can't tell that I'm an anti-social pre-ejaculator who's pet-peeves are Valentines Day, post coital snuggling, kids that aren't mine, and people in fucking general. Listen, I know I talk tougher than a beef jerky salesman when it comes to relationships, but I would really like to start a family one day. The chances of a chick letting me infect her with my demon-seed without at least attempting some sort of union is slimmer than Paris Hilton's ankles, so lately I have found myself exploring every available opportunity. The problem is, when I'm not wasting time entertaining myself with the possibilities of having sex with that Black Republican chick while spouting Bush's low approval ratings, or becoming intimate with that ex-Lesbian while saying "Stop frowning and pretend its a dildo!", I find myself being approached by the same types of females. Again, beggars can't be choosers, but you have to draw a line somewhere.

Older Women: I don't have a problem with older women in general, I'm sure there is some woman out there born before 1973 that I'd probably backhand my mother for.(Don't worry, moms can take a punch) I'm just speaking on the many older women that I have dealt with in the past, so if you are an older woman and still want a piece of old HumanityCritic, you're crazy as cat-shit??!!(Haven't you read my blog?? You geriatric temptress you!!) But seriously, I've dealt with older women who treat me like, *gulp*, their son.. I had one chick cook me breakfast and say "Be sure to drink all that milk, we want healthy bones don't we??", one woman asked me if I needed money before I left, and the worst offense of all was when this one chick told me about a job she worked the year I was born.(Come the fuck on now, that shit isn't sexy!!) I've come to the conclusion that a few years older is fine, even a decade, but if you tell me how you volunteered for Kennedy before his presidency, was once in the audience during a taping of "The Ed Sullivan Show", or once fucked Jim Brown while he was with the Cleveland Browns, I might have to ignore your advances. Sorry.

Black acting white girls: I have to agree with the comedian Paul Mooney when he said, "I like my white people white!!" Of course that isn't an indictment of any white person who likes any facet of black culture, I'm talking about those white folks who are literally trying to be black. I mean, I know a white guy named Dave who was raised around black folks in Florida, and when you close your eyes and listen to him talk he sounds like Trick Daddy, that's ok. I also know this white Chick named Glenda who was adopted and raised by a loving black family, I feel that as well. But for some reason I always attract chicks who were born with the name Becky, for some reason they suddenly change it to Bonifa, and they think that random neck movements and broken English endears them to black folks somehow. Like I said before, this isn't a race thing, I'd lose a significant amount of readers if I chose to go into specific detail concerning all the things I want to do with Janeane Garofalo and bowel of macaroni and cheese. But besides using the N-Word, re-enacting every stereotype imaginable, and most of the time being a fan of sub-par Hip Hop, that isn't even the worst of it. Nothing makes a brother want to go on a killing spree like having your "blackness" questioned by a white girl. No shit, this one chick said "You talk white, what's up with that??" Before I could get out my scathing retort about how colloquialisms don't measure "blackness", the same chick looked at my dreads and asked "Do you actually know the history of dreadlocks??" I wasn't having my blackness questioned by a chick that embraced black culture on the strength of Tupac's "I get Around", so I left before there was an incident.

Girls who I can share my razor with: I don't know what it is, but I'm very popular with women with goatees. I can't explain it, maybe my beard is akin to a dog whistle to a simple Canine, but more chicks with hair on their faces follow me around like I'm the pied piper and shit. I'm not talking about women who might have a slight mustache that they failed to wax, I'm talking about broads so secure with their facial hair that they have begun to style that shit. I don't mean to offend any of my readers out there who like looking like Tom Selleck on "Magnum P.I", or Burt Reynolds during his "Smokey and the Bandit" period, but that shit isn't sexy. Not only isn't it sexy, why am I always the one that they go after, I guess I have "low standards" written on my forehead or some shit. Ladies, if you belong to WWS(Women with 'staches), shave that shit, or stop fucking with me.

Video of the Day: De La Soul: "Potholes In My Lawn"

This will wash that Vh1 stink off of you: Buckshot LeFonque feat Dj Premier - Breakfast At Denny's

Friday, October 13, 2006

My Mother and I discuss a few songs on my IPOD, again..

You know how in my "dreadlock" post I stated that my father was completely opposed to me locking my hair at first, because he thought that I'd look like an "Our Gang" character or some shit, but after a year or so he did a complete 180, even telling me on his death bead to "never to cut my hair"? Well, when it comes to my mother and this blog she has done a similar about face. When she first learned that I used this website as my personal soapbox and online therapist she was none too pleased, not because she felt that I should keep some things private, but because she has always had a feeling that the FEDS keep files on black men and all I was doing was just padding their research. Well, after I involved her in the last "My Mother and I discuss a few songs on my IPOD" post she has blindly supported my blog, even giving me helpful hints like "Tell them about that 4 month period in High School where you wet the bed every night", "Tell them about that time that girl beat your ass, be sure to add the fact that she was retarded and visually impaired", and "Hey, tell them the time when your ex girlfriend dropped you like a bad habit and how you sobbed like a bitch in a soap opera for months". So, to avoid going into detail about any of those embarrassing requests from my mother, I think I will just play her some songs off of my IPOD again.


Del tha Funkee Homosapien:
"The Wacky World of Rapid Transit"

Mom: Who is this, and when did this come out??

HumanityCritic: This is Del Tha Funkee Homosapien, and this came out around 1991. Do you like this?

Mom: Not bad, he has a pretty decent style, a steady flow..

HumanityCritic: "Steady Flow"?? It sounds like you are talking about a chicks period.. What do you know about flow anyways??

Mom: I've heard your ass wax poetic about the subject for years. You would be surprised at some of the useless shit I've picked up listening to your silly ass. (Pauses) Wait, did that guy just say "Ah yo, you Rosa Parks son motherfucker, bring your ass back here!!"

HumanityCritic: He did..

Mom:(Spends the next few moments chuckling like a school girl)

George Michael: "Careless Whisper"

HumanityCritic:(Nervously looking at my mother)

Mom: Wait a goddamn minute, didn't this song come on the last time we did this??

HumanityCritic: I think, so what?

Mom: "So what"?? I think your IPOD is trying to tell me something, something that I had secretly known for years, the real reason I don't have a daughter-in-law or any grand-kids to speak of..

HumanityCritic: No mom, I'm not gay, I get more ass than a toilet seat thank you..

Mom: So says the guy who has Careless "fucking " Whisper in his IPOD. Just admit it already, I wouldn't shun you if you were gay, we can go shoe shopping together, catch a Barbara Streisand show or some shit..

HumanityCritic: I'm playing the next song now.

John Legend: "Save Room"

HumanityCritic: When I first saw the title of this song I thought it was about what a soldier tells his woman as he is going to war, hoping that she stays faithful, "Save Room".

Mom: That's a pleasant thought.. Critic, you really like this guy??

HumanityCritic: He's alright, I'm kind of indifferent about him though..

Mom: I'm indifferent about some of my bowel movements, it doesn't mean I want to give them a ringing endorsement. John Legend is alright, but, but..

HumanityCritic: He kind of comes across like a glorified lounge singer??

Mom: YES!!

HumanityCritic: I feel you, this local radio personality on 103 Jamz tried to say that he out-sang Stevie Wonder during a live duet they performed. I sent her about 20 angry letters saying that she should publicly apologize, retract that bit of idiocy, and resign her position of irrelevant radio host immediately. My letters have gone unanswered though.

Mom: (shaking head, mumbling)Fucking psycho.

Sam Cooke: "A Change is Gonna Come"

Mom: I love this song, you did know that this is a protest song??

HumanityCritic: I knew that!! Do you think I'm stupid or something??

Mom: Did you know that Sam Cooke was so moved by Bob Dylan's "Blowin in the Wind" about racism in America that "A Change is Gonna Come" is sort of a answer record??

HumanityCritic: Ok, I didn't know that..

Mom: Did you also know that The band, The 5th Dimension, Otis Redding, The Neville Brothers, Terence Trent D'Arby, and The Supremes covered this song?

HumanityCritic: No Yoda, I didn't know that, you got me..

Mom: Do you have anything relevant to add to this discussion?

HumanityCritic: Um, well, I always thought that the playing of this song in "Malcolm X" was a little eerie, knowing that he was about to meet his untimely demise.

Mom: (Shakes head)

Tela ft Eightball & MJG: "ShoNuff"

Mom: I know a strip-club song when I hear one, this tune brings to mind women named Lexus and fake breasts as far as the human eye can see. This doesn't seem to be your style, what gives?

HumanityCritic: I just like this song, what can I say? It probably has something to do with this stripper I used to date at the time named Candy, she used to do this interesting thing with her mouth where..

Mom: If you finish that sentence I'll kick you in the chest!!

HumanityCritic: Ok, Ok, my bad. But you have brought up a phrase that I'm going to use from now on though, "Strip Club Rappers"!!

Mom: I'm glad that I could add to your overly critical vocabulary.

Public Enemy: "Welcome to the Terrordome"

Mom: I know who this is, Public Enemy!! Hey, what do you feel about "Flavor of Love"?


HumanityCritic
:(folding my arms) I don't want to talk about it..

Mom: Come on, a member of what you call "the most important group in Hip Hop history" is shucking and jiving on Vh1.(leaning towards in a sarcastic manner) Thoughts?

HumanityCritic:(quickly changing the topic) So, what do you think of this song??

Mom: Is this is the one where they go into the "Greekfest" riots that happened here years ago?? Yeah, they were beating black-folks something fierce.

HumanityCritic: I know, I was down there fighting cops, helping my brothers and sisters out, fighting for freedom.

Mom: Negro, we were in South Carolina visiting your Aunt when this happened. Fake ass revolutionary!

HumanityCritic: Ok, you got me.

Some Friday Soul for that Ass: Stevie Wonder "Higher Ground"

Video of the Day: Leaders of the New School: "Case of the PTA"

Jason Lee before "My Name is Earl"



Actually, this is before everything, but you knew what I was trying to say..

Wednesday, October 11, 2006

"Chasing Amy" like a motherfucker!!!: My 5th Date..

Call me an old romantic if you'd like, but I for one see the many benefits that come with paying for sex. I mean, the woman in question comes by whenever you call her, her being the master thespian that she is can make you feel as if you are torturing her uterus mid coitus, there are no "is this all you want from me" speeches, she doesn't look down on you if you hum the "Smurfs" theme-song while ejaculating, and post coital cuddling and conversation is the furthest thing from her agenda.(Besides, she might charge extra for that anyways.) I know, I know, paying for the services of a woman who has more dick's in her than the White House isn't exactly the safest thing in the world, but when I peer across the singles landscape it suddenly becomes a pretty viable option. Besides, I have at least 10 friends who are either contemplating suicide, a new found gay lifestyle, starting a new Branch Davidian cult, and even embracing the Kabbalah because they totally hate being married. Then again this is going to sound crazy, but I also don't want to die a lonely old man, imagining my weed-man and all the harlots hoping to get some of my inheritance as the only people at my funeral, pretty fucking depressing. Anyway, on to my 5th date.

Date # 5: The ex Lesbian: When it comes to dating, female bartenders are no different from strippers when its all said and done. Granted, most of those bartenders won't give you a discreet hand-job while they are giving you a lap-dance, but like a stripper they will smile and make you feel like a man just to get some of your hard earned dough. I had this in mind as this bartender named Miki would laugh at all my jokes, even inducing a serious "crotch chubby' by her stroking my hand as she served me drinks. I know the game, I wasn't going to step to her because if she shot me down like a scud missile, going back to said watering hole and getting shitfaced in front of strangers would start to get uncomfortable. Right when I had abandoned any urge to talk her Lane Bryant's off, she said "HumanityCritic, we should hang out some time!!" Quickly, looking at her breasts and salivating like Pavlov's dog I said "Word?? Like a date-date?? Cool, we can go out drinking!!" She scrunched her face up like being hit in the nose with Reuben Studdard's flatulence and said, "I already work at a bar dickhead!!"(The woman had a point)

So a few nights later we went to this uber trendy restaurant, an eating establishment filled with poets who wouldn't know iambic pentameter if they were ass raped by a Poet Laureate, and artists whose paintings looked like those flashcards shrinks show while asking you "what does this look like to you??" This woman seemed like a keeper, the way she joined me in ridiculing people, me going "That lady looks like she was potty trained at gun point!!" to her saying "What bet did that guy lose, with those knee high "Michael Cooper" socks on and shit??" She was funny, her breasts looked like two delectable scoops of chocolate ice cream too big for the cone, an ass that real estate developers could build affordable homes on, and by her being a bartender she was already the perfect enabler for my rampant alcoholism. Flowery visions of bending her over a bar-stool went to us getting married in a drinking establishment, where Norm from "Cheers" would be my best man and Carl would be her maid of honor.

All that came crashing down when out of nowhere she said, "You know I used to be a lesbian right??"

**Disclaimer** Let me pause the story for a second, I totally respect the lesbian community. Besides me being vocal about lesbians having the same rights as everyone else, I used to show my support by going to this lesbian bar named "Metropolis" every night for a three months period a few years back. Ok, that wasn't really about supporting lesbian rights, that was more about getting shitfaced, seeing naked women on stage, and trying to talk lesbians into fucking me by saying "I have a small dick, it wouldn't even count as heterosexual sex!!" Ok, back to the story.**Disclaimer**

I surpassed the "playing it off" act with me covering my ears like a petulant child and screaming, "Why did you have to fucking tell me that??" She seemed taken aback, shook her head and said "Listen, I didn't think it was such a big deal. I was in a lesbian relationship for a few years, but I'm done with that now, I'm interested in men. I thought you would be cool with that!" That's when I said, "You couldn't have kept that shit to yourself?? I mean, I was totally happy with this one young lady until she opened her big mouth and told me that she used to do porn, from that point on I felt sexually inadequate based on all the room I wasn't filling up from all the monster phallus' that were there before me. This other beautiful woman and I were absolutely blissful, that was until she told me that she was on the business end of a 10 man gang-bang, so from that point forward during sex I kept imagining a guy tapping me on the shoulder and screaming "My turn!!"

After she took an extremely large sip out of her wine glass she said, "Ok, what does all that have to do with me motherfucker!!!??" That's when I said, "I'm a jealous guy, not of the "I plan on stalking you while hiding in your bushes with a ninja outfit on" variety but of the "If this waiter gives my woman one more compliment I'm going to see if it's physically possible to fit his entire tray inside his rectum" variety. Throw women into that mix and I would be an emotional wreck!" When she asked, "So its not about my lesbian experiences, it's about your insecurity??" I quickly answered, "Bingo!! Plus, an ex girlfriend of mine left me for a woman a few years ago. Do you know how humiliating that is, not really because it was another woman, but the broad she left me looked like Forrest Whitaker!!"

At the end of the night I think she took our spirited back and forth as an example of my twisted sense of humor, by her jokingly saying "Boy, you've got fucking issues!!", like me doing multiple shots of Yager on a nightly basis while sobbingly saying "My father never loved me!!" wasn't already a dead fucking giveaway. I dropped her off at her house like a gentleman, not because I didn't want to see how she reacted to being fucked by a dude as he jokingly sang Melissa Etheridge songs, but because her mother was visiting from out of town. I gave her a kiss and immediately wanted to act like I was pulling something from my mouth and say, "What is this, a pubic hair??", but I didn't, I showed some restraint. Even though before her door closed I said, "Man, a brother really has to step up his cunnilingus game huh???!!", a sentence that provoked her to roll her eyes in disgust.

I like my dreadlocks, but Goddammit man!!!

My old man was old school, being that he was raised in a environment so racially charged that it would make the writers of "Mississippi Burning" collectively wet themselves, his gems of advice went like this. 1.To get anywhere in life you have to work twice as hard as your white counterparts. 2. Never compromise your integrity 3. Asian pussy is to die for(his words, not mine) and 4.Don't grow dreadlocks. Number four was and is very interesting to me, it also to some extent exposes a bit of forgivable hypocrisy a lot of black folks raised during the Jim Crow area have. I mean, my father was all militant and shit, but at the same time he didn't want me locking my hair because of what some white people might think. I know, I know, he was concerned about me getting a job and all that, but at the end of the day that is still caring about what someone else thinks. But because I had the belief that I wouldn't want to work for someone how judged me on my hair anyway, and the fact that I was a grown ass man, I disobeyed my father and decided to lock my hair anyways. As my hair grew my father's feeling of me possibly looking like "Buckwheat" changed drastically, he even told me on his death bed to never cut my hair because of the strength in exudes, also because he said that I looked like a "Black Jesus with a thyroid problem."(Again, his words not mine.)

Listen, I'm not one of those House Negro Armstrong Williams cats, trying to say that racism in America doesn't exist, but I haven't had any of the negative experiences that my father thought I would based on how I wore my hair. That's not saying that I haven't had my share of problems though.. Here are a few.

I don't have weed on me!!: Truth be told I do have marijuana of some kind on my person 2 out of 4 times, but the mere assumption that I must have weed on me because I have dreadlocks is pretty fucking offensive. This idiocy knows no bounds in term of color, both black and white people will either give me the universal "finger tips to the lips, do you have any smoke on you?" signal, or they will come to me with the following silliness: "I'm saying, you just look like the type!!" What kind of shit is that?? Do they think they can get away with that shit just because the topic is weed, and not say, chicken, watermelon, high blood pressure, or black on black crime?? Those are the few times I wish I was a narcotics officer, not only to get law breakers off my city streets, but also get to physically abuse any misinformed fuck who thinks that all black men with dreadlocks are a walking fucking greenhouse.


I'm going to have 12 years tattooed on my forehead:
People are usually nice about this, but if I had a quarter for every time someone asked me "So, how many years have you been growing your hair??", I would have enough coke and whore money to retire on. To combat this, I once wore a black wrist band with the words "12 years" on it, so when someone asked that question I'd put the wristband in their face immediately. What I thought was a clever invention, other people found both rude and completely anti-social. Plus, when I would get completely shitfaced drunk, simply flashing the wristband would turn into me grinding said wristband in the questioners forehead.

Yeah, Yeah, you used to have locs. Whatever.: It never fails, whether I'm sitting next to a black woman, a blond haired blue eyed male, a hasidic Jew, or an arab girl, I always end up being on the business end of a "You know, I used to have dreadlocks" story. Just because I wear Adidas I don't want a lecture on how they are made, just because I'm a black man doesn't mean that I want to be hit with a black history lecture, what makes your feeble ass think that I want to hear a story(a bullshit story at that) about the time you had dreadlocks?? You know, for years I would be nice about it, nod and smile until their diatribe was over. Not any more, nowadays I either immediately scream "I don't give a fuck!!" like I have a mental disorder, or I palm their face and mush them backwards mid-sentence.


The "isn't that hot and heavy" questions:
If I see some lady with an extremely fat ass I don't ask her, "Doesn't that get heavy?" because I'm sure she has gotten used to carrying all that cargo around for some time. If I see an extremely hairy man, a dude that looks like you could shear him and make coats for a small village, I don't ask him "Doesn't that get hot??" because I'm sure that beastly "manimal" is accustomed to it by now. For Christs sake people, my hair isn't heavy to me, or hot, because a motherfucker is used to it!!


Hey, do I look like a poodle to you??:
Not for nothing, but I absolutely hate it when people walk up to me and start touching my hair. I've talked about this before at length, but it happens so frequently I just have to revisit it. Granted, if you are a buxom female with an agenda of fucking me silly then fine, I'm a whore like that. Other than that, if some chick decides to randomly stroke my hair she'll hear "I've got something you can stroke honey!!", or any other retort that I can think of at the moment that involves the touching of my penis. Some women, I guess upset that they haven't grown a full head of real hair since 79', at times take it upon themselves to yank my hair to see if its real. Like last week, when this young woman pulled my hair I immediately pulled hers and said, "You don't like it much do you?" In which she responded, "But I pulled your real hair, I have a weave!!" That's when I squinted, reached for her face, pulled a few hairs out of her chin and said, "Ok, those were real!"

Some tough love for 2 artists that I like..

There are a few times in life where you have to strategically place your shell-toe Adidas in the ass of a loved one or a friend for the sake of tough love. When my childhood friend Keith was battling a nasty cocaine habit, I had to turn my back on him after years of being an emotional enabler. Some my find this a bit excessive, but the only reason why I elbowed, ridiculed, called him a poster-boy for abortions, and blocked his shots while screaming "No motherfucker born when I was getting out of High School is going to score on me!!" while playing a game of pick-up basketball wasn't to embarrass the young lad, but to make him a better player. When I briefly dated a 21 year old woman and abruptly broke up with her after making her dress up like one of the S1W's and insisting that we fuck to "Welcome to the Terrordome", I wasn't being mean, I just wanted to prepare her for all the perverts she would encounter during her lifetime.

That being said, I'm a fan and I respect the following two acts, but I just feel they need a wholesome helping of tough love.

Outkast: I love Outkast because they have came out with some truly amazing music, and I quickly say "Hey, I like Outkast!" when someone claims that I only like east coast Hip Hop.(Kind of like when white people say they have black friends when charged with racism) They remind me of De La Soul, not musically, but in the same way that when you hear their albums you just feel that they shut the label people out of their creative process. I have nothing but love for these gentlemen, in the purest form of heterosexuality possible. That being said, I have to hit these dudes with some tough love, most of it falling on Andre. Dre, seriously, stop fucking singing already and get back to the fucking basics. Its not that you're a bad crooner or anything, but I have held to the firm belief that rappers should only put out "singing" records if they feel said track is a home fucking run.(See Mos Def "Umi Says") I must also say that Big Boi has the patience of a southern grandmother, putting up with Andre's "I'm not going to perform anymore" bullshit. What kind of diva shit is that?? Patti Labelle still performs, they have to use a trailer hitch to wheel Aretha Franklin's big ass on stage and she still performs. What the fuck??

Lastly, some of Outkast's more recent efforts haven't been completely wack, but unfocused like Barney Fife attempting to read an eye chart drunk. Guys, I don't have a problem with you stretching the limits of creativity for the sake of your art, but at the end of the day you have to spit. You have to remember that cardinal fucking rule, because before you know it you will be making "Electric Circus". Fellas, get your shit together and lace us with the Outkast that we all know and love. Big Boi, just keep spitting those lyrics and talking about the women you "cut", and Andre you are not Jimmi Hendrix so cut that shit out!!

Lauryn Hill: The idea for this post came a few days ago when I was listening to the J-Period mix-tape filled with Lauryn Hill songs. The feeling I got was akin to suddenly realizing that your significant other is a gift from god that you don't fully appreciate, corny I know. I mean, I was listening to some of her verses and they were lyrical, her flow was tighter than my asshole was when I spent a few days in city jail, and most of all she has one of those voices where you anticipate what she is going to say next. Nodding my head in exuberance suddenly turned to disgust, as I grabbed my hair and yelled to the Hip Hop gods "Why hasn't she made any dope music lately??"

I'm not saying that Lauryn is the Hip Hop version of Neo, a savior so to speak, but besides dropping a classic Hip Hop album she could at least raise the bar for female MC's stuck on talking about money, clothes, wanting a "boss", and the amount of punishment their vagina takes on a weekly basis. I'm saying Lauryn, I know that you might have had some issues that you've been dealing with, but for Christs sakes work that shit out in the studio!!! Not only that, when I have seen magazine and television interviews you've done, um, lets just say that you've come across nuttier than squirrel turds. I can tell that you feel that you are coming off introspective and philosophical, but to all of us you come off as a braod who is wasting her talents, and one that has too much fucking time on her hands. Just write as many rhymes as humanly possible, get Premo, Pete Rock, and make a classic that will erase the image of you weeping on MTV out of our collective heads.

Video of the Day: Outkast: "Benz or Beamer"

Terry Tate: Office Linebacker



I know this clip is really old, it just makes me laugh though.

Hey HumanityCritic, what in the fuck are you doing with this in your ipod? Thomas Dolby: "She Blinded me with Science"



Every time I hear this song it reminds me of this girl I dated right after college named Claudia. Smart, funny, razor sharp wit, but she was always depressed because she absolutely hated how she looked. Not to look back with rose colored glasses or anything, but she was flawless in my honest opinion, her not being a stick figure is one of the reasons I loved her. Anyway, she had her mind set on getting some lypo, and some other physical alterations of her liking. I objected, gave her the "you are beautiful the way you are" speech which was sincere, but I think she just brushed that off as me trying to say the right thing. After lypo, a nose job, and brand new shiny pair of enhanced tits, it quickly seemed like I was fucking someone else.

It seemed like Claudia vanished and this new person was her robot version, to the point that when she would complain of muscle cramps I'd ask if she would "like me to get my oil can?", I'd randomly call her "Stretch Armstrong", and when she put her tits in my face during sex I would scream "She blinded me with Science. SCIENCE!!"" I think I gave her a complex, imagine that, a woman having a complex AFTER surgery. My bad.