Not for R&B fans...

The hour of reckoning draws near
Judgment day is here and gone
Sweetly she tucks me into her arms
A liquid embrace to chase the day away
Sedate numb, deaf and dumb
Stumbling into solitude
A clouded judgment day is fueled
Take me under your black wings
Mark my words and remember me
So sweetly she sucks away at my time
So sweetly she draws me nigh
Closer and closer towards never ending sleep
Spin the bottle
Kiss only the bottle
The dark mistress of many, beholden to none
Slips a ring of needles around your arm in an engagement
Eternal engagement
Never consummated
Never consummated
Take me under your black wings
Mark my words and remember me
Destroyer of senses
So take as needed for the pain
Another gray morning dawns across an ashen sky
My sweet demoness beckons me
Ever again and again and again and again
The dark mistress of many, beholden to none
My sweet demoness beckons me
Ever again and again and again and again and again
Take me under your black wings
Jacked up on the taste of self-destruction

This will run the chu'ch guhlz right on off, I'm sure. But, if you're willing to try something a little different, close your eyes and imagine the battle in heaven playing out to this music:

And there was war in heaven. Michael and his angels fought against the dragon, and the dragon and his angels fought back. But he was not strong enough, and they lost their place in heaven. The great dragon was hurled down—that ancient serpent called the devil, or Satan, who leads the whole world astray. He was hurled to the earth, and his angels with him. (Revelations 12:7-9)

If you did stick around, did you figure out what he was talking about in this song?

Hip Hop Punkishness

We had this huge discussion on the current state of Hip Hop following Kanye West's latest self-fellationary display on the Video Music Awards. I made the following points:

• Kanye's 15 minutes of fame were up two years ago. His relevancy to Hip Hop, as a rapper, is on the same level as Hammer's. As a producer, his eccentricity has a different, less masturbatory outlet. Kanye is a much better producer than he is a rapper. He needs to stick to what he's best at and stop 'practicing' as a rapper.
  
• Kanye's displayed personality has always been 'punkish'. Last night was true to form. Let me be great? How 'bout you just go away?
  
• Per one of the brothas in the chat room: People need to realize that tight-assed pants, a weird personality, and a f**ked-up haircut does NOT make a dude a trendsetter. 100% agreement on that from me.
  

Another brotha (Self da Gawd) asserted that Eminem is the best rapper alive.

Mmmmmmno!

He used to be. But, now? I'm not seeing it.

I've seen the assertion that Hip Hop is based on beef with references to Jay Z & Nas, LL Cool J & his various foes (sounds like Silver Surfer or the Hulk, doesn't it?), UTFO vs Roxanne Shante, Quik & MC Eiht and others. To a degree, that's true. But, the spirit of the beef was competitive…not bitchy. Eminem (and, by extension, 50 Cent) are gynecological in their feuds.

Consider Eminem's beefs: Christina Aguilera? Brittany Spears? Mariah Carey & Nick Cannon?

Bitch made…

Fiddy goes and gets a man's ex to dish dirt on him? The mansion belonging to his baby mama (which his child lives in) is rendered uninhabitable by a mysterious arson?

A man obviously in need of tampons, monthly.

None of those things are the actions of men secure in themselves and their own masculinity. Either that or those dude's self-identification is awash in progesterone & estrogen. Honestly, if my sons acted like Kanye, Eminem or Fiddy (regardless of how much money they were making), I'd be ashamed of them. Being a man means that, sometimes, you ignore foolishness. Public displays of pique and bitchiness are not the traits of a real man.

Curiously, all three of these dudes were raised by a woman. It would seem that their fathers FAILED to impart crucial knowledge on what being a man really entails.

Do You Have ‘The Love’?

My back is KILLING me! I just have to push through it until it gets better. But, something like this will make you appreciate something that you usually don't give a second thought: Mobility. It's weird: I can do crunches, pushups and military sit ups without the slightest amount of pain. But, sitting for an extended period of time? Not happening…

Good thing I know how to slouch. There's an art to the boneless slouch.

My change in state combined with my afflicted back has slimmed me out a bit. I mean, I see me and think, "Could be (much) better…but, not bad!" Then, I go around 'normal' sized people and it feels like they're all little. I need to go hang with the fam. My shoulders were SO much bigger than everyone else's before…but, time has passed. Some of the boys are now men. But, 6'4" is only fair-to-middlin' in my clan.

*snork* A guy in the lobby JUST asked me, "Where'd YOU play ball?" I have on jeans and a tee, today. So, the walking must be doing some toning.

---

Do you ever stretch and then 'blue out'? That's happened to me since I was 13½. After I hit my growth spurt, whenever I stood up and stretched, everything would look blue and eventually fade, even though my eyes were open. My ears would ring. (Blackout & tinnitus…) Then, I'd pass out in the middle of the floor.

There was this girl that we thought was just SO fine when we were teenagers. Her name was Tasha. We all discussed this girl like she was the Daily News. Once, we were all at a wedding reception, I told my friends (never expecting it to happen), "Man, if the DJ plays Sunshine, I'd even ask Tasha to dance." It was as if that was his cue. Alexander O'Neal's "Sunshine" tweeted & woofed out over the speakers. My friends all turned and looked at me. Seven pair of eyes…and my pride wouldn't let me back out of this one.

I went over and asked Tasha to dance. She said yes. Their jaws all dropped.

Hah!

Anyway, Tasha was riding with her girl Tanya. Tanya came over to our house to 'borrow' me and my sisters. The grocery store near us had a sale on chicken and a limit of five per customer. Tanya was having some kind of party and needed a LOT of chicken. So, my sisters & I would allow her to get fifteen extra chickens. (Ghetto as 'red' Kool-Aid, I know. But, this is why I could SO relate to Roll Bounce.)

My sisters knew I thought Tasha was the finest thing walkin', back then. I was in the den watching TV. They came in wearing sly grins and dropped the bombshell, "Tasha is here."

I stood up and stretched, just as Tasha walked into the den…

…and fell out in the middle of the floor.

Needless to say, my sisters thought the whole situation was hee-lair-ee-us!!! They yukked it up like the sadistic wenches they were. Tasha snickered…but, she helped me up and made sure that I was ok.

*psy*

---

Oh, gawd! 'member that guy? The one who wouldn't shut up and told that long, droning story? He's on his way up here. She should be back soon…or, dammit! He's here!

Good! He took his visitors and left!

---

I need to stop thinking of this guy as "The Little Shit" before I accidentally call him that when I page him.

---

The kids and I coined a new one this week: S/he's so full of shit, s/he's afraid to fart. So descriptively disgusting…

---

I just 'blued out' from a stretch. It actually feels kind of good.

---

I talked to Laura, today. That's my ace boon coon, man! I swear! She's the only person I know that I tell exactly what I feel when I feel it. She still gave me the cyberfanga and called me an 'ass'.

LoLz!!!

---

When I was actively training in ground & pound a few years ago, there was a big, white boy in my class. Dude was strong as a horse and fast as a car…and only 19 years old. He was just out high school. One of our drills was a sprint down the mat. Kid would just accelerate! The older guys in the class (me being one of them) would just look at each other and shake our heads. The guy was a freak of nature and he didn't even know it. During rolls, he'd say, "Man, I don't feel like doing this." But, you could see that he had the raw, natural skills to be whatever he wanted to be.

Guess where he decided that he wanted to be: Duffee seizes first-impression opportunity. Take it all the way, bruh! That's a rough sport. But, when you have the love, it's a lot of FUN!

---

I was still giggling aboout 'gravy beast' in chat. When I mentioned that 'gravy beast' translates into French literally as 'the beast of sauce & juice', this European sista who's fluent in French just hollered. But, she confirmed it. That one stays in the arsenal as an international insult.

It's Violent...I Still Love It

Fight Journal: King Mo vs Mark Kerr - FIGHT NIGHT from All Elbows on Vimeo.

Pinned in One Spot

Authorities are learning more about the identity-theft ring that stole the identities of hundreds of people in Illinois, Maryland, Virginia, and Washington, D.C., including the identity of the wife of Federal Reserve Chairman Ben Bernanke. Court documents show that the ring stole a total of more than $2.1 million from its victims. Authorities say that one of the members of the ring, 38-year-old Shonya Michelle Young of Myrtle Beach, S.C., would use one of three wigs to impersonate her victims to obtain fake IDs and cash illegal checks in order to steal all the money from their bank accounts.

*smh* Lemme guess: That's a black chick?

I keep tellin' y'all to stop giving your kids these ghetto-assed names. I mean, really...Shonya? Rhymes with Tonya?

That's almost as bad as naming your brother's fraternal twin children "Deniece" and "Denephew".

---

Ever wonder how your workplace can be caught up with so much intrigue? You got this going on and that happening...so-and-so got caught doing this... The answer is readily apparent if this isn't your nature. You may not get it if you like reality shows, though.

People are freaking MESSY! Oh, my gawd! They're HORRIBLE With their mess!

Which is worse: messy? or stupid? A person can be messy because they're stupid. But, usually, the only way to be stupid because your messy is when the person you pissed off brains you with something heavy and turns into a drooling moron.

---

Sitting in the dark, I can't forget
Even now, I realise the time I'll never get
Another story of the bitter pills of fate
I can't go back again
I can't go back again…

But you asked me to love you and I did
Traded my emotions for a contract to commit
And when I got away, I only got so far
The other me is dead
I hear his voice inside my head…

We were never alive, and we won't be born again
But I'll never survive with dead memories in my heart
Dead memories in my heart
Dead memories in my heart

You told me to love you and I did
Tied my soul into a knot and got me to submit
So when I got away, I only kept my scars
The other me Is gone
Now I don't know where I belong…

We were never alive, and we won't be born again
But I'll never survive with dead memories in my heart
Dead memories in my heart
Dead memories in my heart
Dead memories in my heart

Dead visions in your name
Dead fingers in my veins
Dead Memories in my heart
Dead memories in my heart
Dead memories in my heart
Dead memories in my heart

Women think men don't feel the pain of a relationship's end. *smh*

This is Slipknot. SLIPKNOT!!!

That's METAL…and you can read the pain in those lyrics.

Maybe it's time that we stopped claiming all of the higher emotions to our respective sex and assigning the lower emotions to the opposite sex. Men and women are equally fucked up. How 'bout that?

---

Oh, my gawd! This dude is sitting here telling THE MOST BORING STORY THAT I'VE EVER BEEN FORCED TO OVERHEAR. This guy is The Most Interesting Man in the World's archenemy. I'm trying to not hear him. But, nooooooooooooo! He won't stop droning on about effing ePROMs. If I wasn't so allergic to the smell of prison (ass, testosterone and desperation), I'd strangulate him any minute now just so I don't have to hear him, any more.

Some dumbass just asked under their breath how I know what prison smells like. It's called hyperbole, dimbulb. Look it up.

We're up to twelve "Well, anyways" in this guy's stupid story. 20 minutes of rambling. He's boring the fuck out of a salesman. The irony of THAT shit just made me laugh.

Sixteen…

Seventeen…

I think he's done.

Dere iz uh gawd!!!

Nope…still rambling…

Thirty-five minutes of rambling, now.

I hope this dude never accidentally looks at the sun with those glasses. Those lenses would turn ambient sunlight into a braided laser that would burn through the back of his head like a hot knife through butter.

…of course, he'd be QUIET then.

Maybe I should point at the sky and say, "Hey, look!!!"

The effort of not laughing out loud at that left me dazed for a few seconds.

By the way, he's STILL talking.

Ugh!

---

Hell is: being stuck in line behind a sweaty, fat girl who's explaining to her friend all the stuff she doesn't eat.

---

…still talking.

---

I was reading a scroll of people who were discussing the Babelfish Translator. They were talking about the fact that it doesn't translate some things cleanly from English to other languages. I decided to test some phrases:

English	Spanish	French	German
Boogawolf	lobo del booger	loup de booger	Boogerwolf
Gravy Beast	bestia de la salsa	bête de sauce au jus	Soßetier
Sweater meats	carnes del suéter	viandes de chandail	Strickjackefleisch
Fundament	fundamento	fondement	Fundament
Swagga	fanfarronería	air fanfaron	Prahlerei

Honestly, I almost strained a muscle not laughing out loud at the "bête de sauce au jus". In my mind's eye, I could see a heavy chick cock her head to one side and ask, "Did you jus' call me a 'beast of sauce and juice"?!?" Now, I'm sitting here snickering like Muttley.

---

That dude finally shut up while I was translating.

Sat in that jail, I sat in that jail til I near about done rot to death. I know
what it like to wanna go somewhere and cain't. I know what it like to wanna
sing... and have it beat out 'ya. I want to thank you, Miss Celie, fo everything
you done for me. I 'members that day in the store with Miss Millie - I's feelin'
real down. I's feelin' mighty bad. And when I seed you - I know'd there is a
God. I know'd there is a God.

Bad, Li’l, Ol’ Boys

My coworker was just telling me about her grandson. She was just shaking her head. She said, "He's wide open. He's just so…rough!" I think he's about four or five years old. She said her son his on his butt, though. She said her son thumps his son on the head when he gets out of hand. She said she tells him to stop thumping him like that.

I just laughed. I explained to her that a thump works like a reset button on bad, li'l boys. The impact of a well-placed thump (temporarily) restores order in a chaotic little brain intent on doing something it has NO business doing. It's like a magnet on iron filings. A thump is only a temporary measure, you see. You're still gonna have to whup 'im at some point. Don't feel bad, though. That bad, li'l boy NEEDS that disciplinary thump.

My dad used to thump the CRAP out of me. He would make me sit in the chair in front of him at our…religious services. I'd forget where I was and get to playing with my fingers. They were men, you see. And, they would fight. My middle finger and my ring finger were the legs. My pinky and my index fingers were the arms. I'd be kung fu fighting on my lap with my hands. Way before The Matrix was ever conceived, I was doing bullet time with my hands…re-enacting the fight between Steve Austin and the Seven Million Dollar Man. My right would dodge a kick, get his balance quickly before launching his own kic-

*Thwock*

My dad would thump me on that bone right behind my ear with laser-like precision. Reality would drop back on me like a big, fat girl coming off the top rope. Suddenly, I remember that I was supposed to be turning in my Bible to a scripture. I'd blink back the tears and act like I didn't hear my friends snickering three rows back. I couldn't even rub it because then he'd lean forward and threaten to pound me into a paste-like consistency if I kept on playing.

Five minutes later, my fingers would be re-enacting Obi-Wan and Darth Vader's lightsaber battl-

*Thwock*

The funny part to me is that 15-20 years later, I had a rambunctious son. He'd be intently applying himself to some form of mayhem or mischief, when…

*Thwock*

I applied pressure to the reset button. He'd straighten up.

My dad said, "Uh, son? Don't thump him like that! He's ok!"

8^o

My mother, on the other hand, didn't thump me. She used to pinch me. To this DAY, I hate being pinched. She would get in really closely and talk so that only I could hear her and threaten to tell my father on me. But, what people couldn't see, because my body was blocking their view, was my mom pinching my stomach through the whole sentence. You don't need to look up the word "writhe" once my mother gets hold of you. Trust me on that one. I actually think that I behaved for a longer period of time from the pinch than the thump.

*smh*

Quickie

The Health Care Debate

It sounds like a well-informed discussion of the issues when phrased that way, doesn't it? Actually, it's a polarized rant by groups of people who show a distressing tendency to parrot ideas put forth by the spokesmen of their chosen political party. In the instances where I've looked to see what people who actually have healthcare as a basic right, the "debate" just comes off as narrow-minded, hidebound stupidity. As an example, check out what random, "regular" people have to say about their own experiences with that system. The example comes from, of all places, DarwinAwards.com.

OK! OK!

Maybe, they aren't "regular". People there tend to think atavistic stupidity is amusing in a mocking way. (Hm!) That, in itself, would kind of diametrically oppose them to a lot of the herd taking part in the "healthcare debate".

In Other News…

 

I need caffeine…

BRB

 

Venus — Mars€

I just saw something that reminded me of two antonymic truisms:

• No matter HOW good she looks, some other dude is sick & tired of her bullshit.
  
• It's a lot easier to put up with her bullshit when she's cute.
  

When she's all in your ears tellin' you how YOU fucked up; you're lots more inclined to deal with it when her nicely-rounded qualifications for speaking to you in that manner are protruding into your field of vision and triggering a memory of being noisily squished onto you in the recent past.

Know what else cracks me up? There's logic and there's woman logic. Consider all of the implications of that statement. I want you to be irritated with me for the RIGHT reasons.

Women buy things because they were on sale—didn't need it…but it was on sale. That's woman logic.

'k…pay attention: If you buy it on sale, you save whatever percentage the item was marked down. This is inarguably true. BUT: If you don't buy it AT ALL, you save 100%.

She says: I don't get it.

*snork*

Hump Day

This is a great blog: http://doomsdaylabs.com/

I subscribed. I was looking for pictures of the ineffable Guy Smiley when I found it.

 

'Ineffable' defies description. 'Unfuckwitable' simply defies.

 

In the new pantheon of Hollywood Elder Gods, Shatner simply reigns. Check it out: 77 Reasons Why William Shatner Is Awesome

 

There is a certain cleanness that goes hand-in-hand with honesty, especially savage honesty.

"You need to get the fuck away from me, dawg! I don't like you and I have never liked you!"

*shrug* Wouldn't you know exactly where you stand when you heard that? I've heard that statement uttered more than once to individuals.

 

BORED!!!

How the hell do you make a major change in your life and STILL end up bored? I feel caged.

My son came to see me at work today on his way home from school. That was pretty cool.

I still had to tell him how to greet a woman. His butt responded to introductions with, "What's up?"

*smh*

My kid…MY KID…sounds like a suburban sk8boy. I'm so embarrassed. I can't take him to Detroit like this. On top of that, he wears this li'l-assed Spider-Man backpack. It looks like something a seven-year-old would wear. He thinks it's funny. I told him that he's gonna get beat up wearing that young-assed backpack. He just laughed.

Conversation w/Li'l Bear

"Don't let your friend get you into trouble. Some of the stuff that she likes to do―specifically, some of the boys that she likes to talk to and hang around are just going to get you in trouble. When she starts that, bring your behind on away from her."

"Also, stay away from these li'l dope boys. I'm not saying that you're trying to talk to them. I don't think that you are. But, they are watching you and, sooner or later, one of them is going to try to holla. When that happens, I will say something. You're worth way too much to me for me not to say something. So, to avoid a lot of drama and trouble, just stay away from them, ok?"

She looked as if she hadn't considered what I told her before. She nodded thoughtfully and went outside.

Oink!

Spasm

I went out with some friends of mine, this Saturday. *smh* I was forcibly reminded that liking to dance and being able to dance are not necessarily synchronous notions. The folks dancing to this blues band's music wore these looks of fierce intent...as they appeared to randomly seize and spasmodically shudder to the music. The beat was irrelevant to their mode of expression. They were DANCING, man! Ugh! That shit was awful. I had to close my eyes to enjoy the music.

The other thing that I've noticed quite a bit, lately, is the sense of entitlement that White Folks have. Once they appropriate or assimilate some art form, fuck you for objecting to their adulteration of it. The blues? I mean, really:

• You have two houses.
  
• Your children by your second wife have finished college and you've nearly finished paying on it.
  
• You're driving two vehicles and have three or four recreational vehicles.
  
• Your 401K has taken a slight hit due to this economy, so you might have to put off doing some things at retirement.
  

The fuck you got to be blue about, dawg?

Well, I just like to dance.

Then take some lessons, muhfukkah! You can afford it. Plus, you're offending my sense of rhythm with them fucking convulsions.

Things We Lost In The Flood...

*snork* These muhfukkaz REFUSE to believe that I used to play the alto saxophone. What's funny is that my SON had my same music teacher, Mr. Alsteadt, just before we moved South.

I still can't stand that Billy Joel song "We Didn't Start The Fire".

 

My children maintain their guerilla campaign to kill me. *psy* I tell them to do things and they act like I'm not even talking. Then, they're shocked (Shocked, I tell you...) when I get pissed. They're always surprised when I call them on the BS that they didn't think that I knew they were trying to pull. I flipped the love seat over last night and made them get up all the stuff they pushed under there.

Just do what I tell you when I tell you and I won't have to…punish…you.

 

Before we went to the blues bar, we met up with my friend and her boyfriend. That li'l woman is hilarious to me. She's one of the people that kept me from going off the deep end during my divorce. She made me leave the house to do things like: eat at Waffle House, or go to Savage's pizza or hang with her and her friends.

Saturday, she had us walk into this bar to meet up with her & her friends. After we were standing in there, we were notified: This is a gay bar. I looked around and shrugged. They wondered why I could be so prosaic about that. I told her: I don't care who a man is sleeping with male OR female. Why would I? I like women…and I only like SOME of them. So, whatever…

My date tried to clown me later, tombout, "They looked at me first to see if I was a tranny. After they saw that I was a woman, they were looking at YOU!"

I just said, "*psh* Whatever…I ain't stuntin' them dudes!"

Then, we left at the pace that I set, and went to a nearby restaurant and had some of the best food that I've had yet in Atlanta.

So, all-in-all, I had a pretty good weekend.

Nutbush

Fellas, d'you know a chick who you don't even LIKE, but who you would bang out like a gorilla on a drum? I see that more often, lately. I think to myself, "Ugh! She gets on my nerves!" But, the way her finer qualities fill out her jeans makes me admit, at least privately: I'd wear her dumb ass out like Easter clothes!

*psy*

Before you call me a pig, ladies; know this: 1) I already know that I'm a pig. So, whatever. Embracing one's piggishness is liberating, at times. 2) Just cuz I think it doesn't mean that I'm going to follow through on the thought. There are (probably) millions of women on this planet who can make my groin stir. But, I'm really NOT tryna sleep wit' that many wenches. Some of the cute ones still have cooties and I don't want cooties on my junk.

---

It is caffeine that triggers these moments of pelvic introspection. Not Mountain Dew, per se; but, definitely caffeine...and testosterone.

---

---

izAtIOn

Random "izAtIOn"...get it?

Anyway...

NEW BUMPER STICKER: We need animals....can't make good sandwiches without them.

*snork* Animal rights activists...what a waste of DNA. Why the hell would you let somebody who kisses a dog in the mouth speak for you? Dogs lick their own asses. According to psy's Laws of Transference, that would then make the owner who kisses their dog 'full of shit'. *smh* Animal rights activists have a lot in common with one animal, that's for sure...if the animal is a lemming. Shut up, already! Sheesh!

Look up: ROCKY MOUNT, N.C

Nine women slaughtered with no national attention and fools are taking their dogs to a stadium they're not even allowed INTO to protest the death of dogs that would EAT their mutt. LMAO. People are stupid. PETA sympathizers are even dumber.

---

Y'know, when I realize that my interest in a woman is groin-inspired with the depth rivaling a small, sidewalk puddle; then, I leave her alone. I school my visage into a mien of indifference.

*shrug* Most women are USED to being objects of sexual fixation. It gives her a form of power to even let on that you find her attractive...especially when she's indifferent, at best, to your existence. So, why put myself behind THAT eight ball?

---

My son discussed the irony of his school holding a charity basketball game to benefit the fight against Juvenile Obesity. Not only are they NOT gonna make the fat kids play in it; they're gonna sell snacks at the game. Talk about wasted effort.

We also discussed "sweater meats" aka Big Particulars. The entire conversation was hilariously wrong.

---

There's a dude here today who looks JUST like Mario from Mario Bros. I was like a li'l kid when I first saw him. I said, "Mario!!!" Then, I caught myself.

---

She's slightly irritated that my neighbors think that I'm a 'nice guy'. *smirk* Why is that so bad?

---

If I ever get/got to walk from a locker room to fight. My song would probably be Day of the Dog by Throwdown. That song is about as subtle as a brogan to the bicuspid. *evil grin*

---

So, waitaminnit...just how difficult is it to tell that you're a woman (or not)?

Monday Musing

Do you realize that The Usual Suspects is now 15 years old? That's older than my children. Wow, time flies.

---

My children told me that my 12-year-old daughter choked out a high-school boy. By way of explanation, my daughter said, "I told him to 'tap out', but he wouldn't." *smh* She doesn't even get how physically impressive she is and could be with more training.

Then, as I left to run an errand yesterday, she was in the parking lot playing football with the boys. Last night, she told me, "I love it when boys say, 'Girls can't play football." She also said that the QB would just tell her to "run it" and pitch her the football.

---

"Mildred have her bikini on, Saturday"
"Thank God, no!"

I'm gonna hurt myself trying not to laugh at these dudes.

Am I messing up? Am I supposed to discuss tools when I talk to other dudes? Acetylene torches? Welding? I'm in trouble.

...although, it does seem like 20% of the explosion-related deaths on darwinawards.com seem to be torch-related. No! No good could come of ME knowing about torches.

I will say this: WD-40 works like household napalm.

---

The only reason those true.com ads keep running is because suckers keep falling for the okey-doke. Yeah, some skinny, white girl with 34 to 38 teeth wants to talk to YOU...whilst tucking her hair behind her ears. And, she's excited to see your typed words, too. Because...even though she's what you think is hawt, she's gonna be home on the PC because nobody's trying to date (read: bone/screw/fuck/bang out) her in real life.

*smh* You poor, stupid schmuck.

The lady behind the fake pic has her comfortable shoes on the floor next to her. Her feet hurt from her long evening of stocking shelves at 'the Walmart'. She's kinda dumpy and she has three bad-assed kids, the oldest of whom always seems to get the 'good' weed, despite the fact that he's NEVER held a job longer than six weeks.

Anyway...

---

A WORD, PLEASE: Dark-skinned honies? You know I luh yew, right? Good! So, I'm saying this to you with all the love (and lust) in my heart:

STOP TRYING TO GO BLONDE!!!

Just stop it!

There is nothing wrong with the auburn or brunette hair that you naturally have. But, that peroxide blonde just DOESN'T look right on you! It makes you look cheap, fake and tawdry! You can do better than that. You really can.

*muttering* Ionno why everybody's been beating around THAT particular bush.

Disgruntled?

OK...here's a tip for you writers, fiction and non-fiction, regarding Detroit, Michigan. Caucasians do NOT claim the City of Detroit...unless they're Eminem. If they live four FEET outside of the Detroit city limits; when someone asks where they're from, they answer, "Michigan." Detroit, Michigan is more segregated than Atlanta, Georgia. Ask around, if you don't believe me.

I just read part of a book where the writer made this mistake. Don't get me wrong: There are white folks who live inside the city limits. But, Black, White or whatever: Detroiters are hard. This character isn't.

But, yeah...whatever!

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Ideals vs. reality
Wanna disillusion yourself (some more)? Look at the precepts of equality, justice and, hell, existence put forth in this nation's founding documents. Then, watch the news and see yet another group of armed, white hooligans embrace each other as a jury finds their contempt for the life of a black man an acceptable exchange for perceived safety.

Lady Justice is no longer a whore for hire to the most influential. She's now a slut who'll take it from behind from anybody in a uniform...like Halle in Monster's Ball.

But, y'know, being born to a life of assumed privilege and preferential treatment will undoubtedly give a person another perspective. For examples, click here: Police brutality caught on camera.

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If I ever get married again, it'll be after the kids are grown & gone. There are so very few absolutes in this world. So, that proclamation may need to be retracted. But, I'm not really seeing why it should be at the moment.

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My daughter has me back into Metal & Hard Rock for the nonce. It amuses me that people, for the life of them, cannot understand my enjoyment of this form of music...even people who like it themselves. But, I've said repeatedly over the years that some of my best design work has come with Mudvayne or Atreyu or the Deftones blasting in my ears. The energy yielded by the journeymen, experts and masters of this form of art is phenomenal.

At the moment, I'm digging Soilwork, Lamb of God and Seether.

...and if you're into Metal, but not into Hip Hop, I submit for your examination: Geto Boys - Still.

Tearful Punches

I'm sorry, but: This shit is creepier than the Addams Family's group photo...and ten times funnier.

Look at it again...and hum the theme song from the Addam's family. You're gonna be mad at me for showing you this...but you'll laugh anyway.

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My daughter, since birth, has decided in her own little squirrelly girlie mind (same difference) that she's ready to move on to the next phase of her existence.

All too often, she thought she was ready but she wasn't quite. All too often, she slightly 'misoverestimated' her capabilities.

*psy*

Who does that sound like?

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I just talked to a couple of younger sistas about a subject that's as noncombative and nonconfrontational as anything could be: Maxwell's music. I reel away from the exchanges stunned! No wonder brothas are catchin' hell in the dating arena. Sistas nowadays apparently have the romantic sensibilities of coal miners.

"R. Kelly is a musical genius?!?" Ew! That's your comparative statement? Oh, gawd! You're dismissed! You may go!

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On another note, my sister-in-law just told me that she's not high-strung! She's "anxious"!

I can't stop giggling at that one.

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Would a fistful of tears make your fist glow like Goku's?

Kaaaaaaa-mehhhhh-aaaaaaaa-mehhhhh-hahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!

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Fistful of Tears

BLACKsummers'night

Maxwell

Feel just like a weight has lifted it

How can I repay you help me understand

Currency a fistful of tears I can afford

Fight of your life is not the cost

Time will reveal

All along you're the one who's losing

Cause I go insane

Crazy sometimes

Tryin you to keep you from losing your mind

Open your eyes

See what's in front of your face

Save me my fistful of tears

You can make it disappear, girl

All you got to do is just raise up, face up, stay up

All things will heal we'll feel it with a kiss from the skies

Don't you let it go

Don't you let it go

Cause I go insane

Crazy sometimes

Tryin you to keep you from losing your mind

Open your eyes

See what's in front of your face

And save me my fistful of...tears

We gon fight the war

We gon fight our fears

The only thing I wanna throw is a fistful of tears

We gon fight the war

We gon fight our fears

The only thing I gotta throw is a fistful of tears

We gon fight the war

We gon fight our fears

The only thing I wanna throw is a fistful of tears

Cause I go insane

Crazy sometimes

Tryin you to keep you from losing your mind

Open your eyes

See what's in front of your face

And save me my fistful of tears

Cause I go insane

Crazy sometimes

Tryin you to keep you from losing your mind

Open your eyes

See what's in front of your face

And save me my fistful of tears

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I still feel that God designed a woman's tears as a counter to a man's (generally) greater physical strength. On the other hand, a woman's actions can actually reduce the most powerful man alive to tears...if she is the woman he loves.

Regardless, I choose to see the triumph that would come to a relationship from the comfort offered and received in this song. It shines around the edges of these lyrics.

fin

Step 1: Find what I do for relaxation and enjoyment onerous, troublesome or pedantic.

Step 2: Tell me as much.

Step 3: Lose me.

I've done this scene with another actress. I didn't like it then. I won't deal with it long, now.

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Thunderstorms make these bones ache more than they naturally would.

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Heywood U. Bleaumie?

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Some of y'all act like Michael Jackson was your cousin. Stop that shit, please. Pretend like you have more intelligence, decorum, and couth than the average poo-flinging chimp, ok?

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I'm not getting enough rest. I'm SLEEPY, still. I need The Piss Uv Da Gawdz...a Mountain Dew.

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This chick didn't taper at all. She was the same width from her shoulders all the way down to her feet. Then she had on wedge heels...which only served to make her look MORE blocky.

If the word to describe the way you chose your wardrobe today is "comfortable", then you probably look like a "BEFORE" picture on What Not to Wear. Dress to accentuate the positives in you, ladies. If you don't wanna be seen as somebody's frumpy grandma, then don't dress like one.

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Kelis' idea of female empowerment: $40000 per month for child support? Nas would have done better to get custody, himself. Northern Courts SUCK! And, Nas needed a better attorney!

$40000 x 12 x 18 = $8,640,000

*smh*

That's some bullshit…and you know it.

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Why do the police have the nerve to get their pannies in a bunch when they get called on the fucked up shit they do? Only NBA referees come close to that level of bitchassededness.

It's sadly amusing: Black folks get treated so badly here that foreigners that you can't even fucking understand try to get away with some of the same shit.

American culture pulls off being both underhanded and high-handed at the same time.

And I beheld another beast coming up out of the earth; and he had two horns like a lamb, and he spake as a dragon.—Revelation 13:11

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Yeah, yeah! I understand the irony of quoting scriptures with this cussy mouf. But, I'm still right.

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BamBam's coming home today!

Yay!

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Telemarketers SUCK! If your profession is telemarketing, in ANY of its incarnations, then YOU suck! I understand that, in this economy, we can't always make the career choices that we might like to! But...you still suck as a person if you're a telephone sales representative!

...and, if you have a heavy, Southeast Asian accent, I fucking REFUSE to believe your name is "Joe" or "Ed" when you call peddling your wares. So just stop cajoling me and tell me all four syllables of your first name.

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Why do pizza joints even bother MENTIONING one-topping pizza? You know another name for one-topping pizza? Toast! That's all it is: toast:

Needless to Say...

This stupid song is one of my FAVORITE songs. Mojo, wherever you are, thanks again for widening our musical horizons.

The Party Broke UP - Was Not Was

Jason came in from Peoria
Wearing silk sunglasses
His girlfriend, Gloria, wore metal shoes
That emitted poison gases from the heels
One drink of that stuff and -Zam!-
Th-the walls became floors
Became ceilings became doors
The singer kept singing "Feelings"
That's right when I snapped
Needless to say, th-the party broke up

Th-that flashing tie was a riot!
A-And what was that other remark that you made?
O-oh yes, you're unemployed.
(Heh!) Me too! I know what you mean
Someone began to discuss paranoia
When lightning destroyed half the room
With one blast
The last of us killed off the wine
And went home
Needless to say, the party broke up

Halfway Thru

Yahoo's 360 bought a farm. Ugh! So, I'll be putting my gamboling thoughts on display here.

Ain't life grand?

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Sometimes, I wish certain people could see me the way I am when I cease to care and when I stop 'behaving'. There is a different regard from folks once they've seen The Predator Unchained.

Of all my "potential", physical potential is the one that I've most closely approached full realization.

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*as told to a dude bragging about his car*

Just after conception, before our souls are fully formed, God gave each of us some choices. *I* chose a big dick.

Meep meep, muthafukkah!

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All this patriotic finger pointing with regards to the economy...by people pushin' foreign whips.

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Lemme put it to you this way: A person who can't fight exhibiting road rage is as pointless as a celibate nun in sexy drawz. If you ain't prepared to knuckle up, shut the fuck up about traffic.

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Some of these ungainly-assed runners need to invest in bicycles...lookin' like Jerry's Kids.

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Age is nearly as much mental as it is physical. Your music and wardrobe & music reveal your true age.

While maturity is a worthy goal, getting old is a terrible thing.

I HURT!!!

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People are actively deifying Michael Jackson. He was a recluse and a certifiable nut when he was alive. Now: OMG! Michael was (insert plaudit here)!!!

Mention the child molestation, though, and people look at you like you whipped your dick out in church. That's part of his legacy, however. That's why it's important to act like you have some sense, now. Cuz the dumb shit you do can (and should) be brought up when you die.

For example: the people who let their children stay unattended at Neverland Ranch, they should get clowned HARD at death.

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It's been said that he who goes forth with a fifth on the Fourth may not go forth on the Fifth. Glad you made it, bastards.