I’ve been a Radiohead fan since high school and it happened completely by accident. My brother had a mostly reggae/dancehall mix tape that I was listening to one night alone in my bedroom. I had my headphones plugged into my stereo player jammin’ away at the latest dancehall tunes, when out of nowhere and totally out of place came this song that was so not like the others.It was non other than Paranoid Android and it was fuckin’ awesome. I listened to it, a bit perplexed, and was transported on a ride that took me to so many different places, unexpectedly and without my express consent or permission. [continue reading…]
The number of years between the ages of ten and twenty are equal to the number of years between twenty and thirty, only on paper. Of this, I am mostly certain.
In the interest of time; it is neither simple nor compounding. While it is far more beneficial to the investor when it is in abundance, it becomes exponentially more valuable when at its very least and most scarce.
In the end, time spent will always be time spent, however well or ill. But time uninvested, regardless of intentions or reservations, is just simply time wasted. And of this, I am most certainly certain.
I declared today a lazy day after work. And by “work” I mean my full-time day job. I usually work after “work” toiling away at the things that really move me. Sometimes I write, sometimes I design and sometimes it’s hours of research that get stretched much too long by the snares of one form or another of social medium or internet porn. Some days it’s the gym or rugby or some other form or another of physical activity, occasionally of a sexual nature. Today was actually a rugby day, but I sustained a shoulder injury in a game over the weekend and needed it to heal. So a lazy day was declared. I would come home, eat dinner and relax.
I made it a Netflix day. After much searching and contemplation, “Margin Call” made the cut. It was certainly the description that got me, because I do not recall hearing anything about this movie in the past. For those that haven’t either, it is about the events leading up to the 2008 financial crisis. It starred Kevin Spacey. It was good enough. This isn’t a review so I won’t go into the nits and grits, but in the end Kevin Spacey’s character lays his dog to rest after it passed away.
After the movie I felt like watching somethings else. Embark on a new series, perhaps. I heard good things about House of Cards” and I wanted to see what the hype was about. For those that are also unfamiliar, it is a Netflix original based in Washington. It also, coincidentally, starred Kevin Spacey and ,even more coincidentally, starts of with a scene of his his character interacting with a dog; this time putting one to rest after it’s been hit by a car. And the combined ending and beginning of both of those scenes got me up to write this short piece. Had this been any other day, this post would have been much longer. But today has already been declared a lazy day, so it shall end.
Some inspirations strike imperfectly and unexpectedly at the wrong occasions and some endings transition perfectly and unexpectedly into the right beginnings. May those words inspire you in whatever way they will. Good day.
this is necessary
i will continue to push forward
posse up and march for her
however fickle
she may or may not be
going against the grains
of the burning sands
as they trickle
and rain relentlessly
down the hourglass
half full and half empty
at the same time
has no effect
and space just takes up space
i stand head high
fully erect
ready to embrace and face
the truth that lies ahead
as the past patiently waits
looking forward to
my entire life
has been building up
to this very moment
looking back at
my entire life
bas been broken down
in pieces of atonement
and now that i’m here
i know not what to do
now that it’s in front of me
i can’t help but to look back
butt fuck it
in the end it all fades
to shades of black
and grey and the white
milk has been spilt
and i’m fresh out of fears
and rips and tears
the very core of my soul
is filled and emptied all at once
robbed of all its gold
left with insufficient funds
revenge is not at all a dish
however cold
spaghetti and meatballs sure is
or so i’ve been told
this is necessary
i shall do as i wish
This poem was inspired by a “brain drain” session I completed back in 2006. I always look back to my material of old for inspiration of the new.
Note: I think I like that title and may do several social commentaries under it. Let’s see how this goes first. I’m not really into the award show, celebrity blow job thing, but I needed something to write about. So, here we are. I think I’m going to do this in list form because it seems somewhat appropriate for this particular occasional. Better yet, I’ll give out awards to people and make snide comments about either the recipient of the award or someone related to on of the two. If you don’t follow, you’re not alone. I’m not exactly sure where I’m going with this either, so just stick around and we’ll figure it out together. And for the record; if I will be quoting anyone, just know that I’ll be paraphrasing. So before you jump on my dick, don’t. Without any further ado, let’s ah do this! And the best speech goes to…
Jay-Z: “I’d like to thank the swap meet for that hat” (as he pointed to The Dream’s tragic choice of head gear). 
Oh, that wasn’t a joke. At least not on my part. That is really what he said, and that was all. You know you have too many Grammys when your award speech can be squandered on a mere observation – a joke.
The Dream does needs to introduce more fiber into his diet and pull his shit together. C’mon son! On the real, tho, this is a nationally televised event. Your attirical selections are closely monitored and even scrutinized by the media and the public. I understand artists wanting to make a statement, but what exactly were you trying to communicate, young man? But, while we’re on the topic of fashion, I’d like to announce the best selection of attire for the evening.
And the award for the best dressed goes to…
Kelly Rowland: She looks ravishing!
You see, this is how you stay relevant when you are a orphan child of destiny, and your name is not Beyonce. This dress is gotdamn gorgeous and the woman inside is just as well. Kell has always been fine, but on this night she has never been finer. I don’t know who made it, nor do I need to. This dress may never be worn again. By anyone.
My only gripe is that she looked a little shy in it in some of the pictures on the web. You need to OWN such a dress. Embrace it’s sluttyness and carry on as such. Get banged by, or at least suck off , a fellow celebrity or even a stranger in the bathroom or the hallway. She must have gone to this thing alone because if I was her date I’d be all up in that dress with her all night long. It’s actually a bad career move because she’s bound to end up pregnant at the end of the night. Let’s jut hope that she has that Beyonce bounce-back, or at least enough common sense to abort. Abort!
Honorable mentions to Katy Perry as a close second, just for looking so edibley delicious.
I’ve never considered Katy Perry super attractive until I saw her on stage in that dress. Don’t get me wrong, she’s never been ugly to me, she just never garnered much attention from the little guy down stairs. Now all that has changed and she will gladly get it. And by “it” I mean the MOTOR BOAT! I would so motor boat those sons of bitches.
Next up we have the cutest acceptance speech(es), which goes to…
Goyte and Kimbra for Record of the Year: I don’t recall everything that was said but it sounded heartfelt and genuine. I guess what made this one the best was the fact that the muthafuckin man, himself bestowed this trophy upon them. No, Jesus did not make a guest appearance. Even better. Yes, I’m talking about Prince.
Do you see how happy they look? It has nothing to do with the fact they have just received a Grammy. They forgot all about that little thing. They are just giddy about another little thing; Prince is standing right next to them. And can you blame them? Can you!?! He took of his shades. Eye contact was made. Jamie was right…
Look at him. How old is this dude? Still looks like a little kid. Whatever you do, don’t look into his eyes.
And last, we have the worst speech(es) of the night. And this award goes to…
Anyone that got on stage, acted surprised and said, “I didn’t think I was going to win.”
Fuck you! Then you shouldn’t have won. Kelly Clarkson, was not the only person to say this, but she was the funniest. Probably because she was hammered. I might be wrong. But she was definitely wrong for how she did Miguel (even though she just said out loud what many were already thinking quietly). Have a look, see…
Here’s a suggestion for next year: Make all the nominees take a survey beforehand, asking them whether they think they will win or not. Tell them to be completely honest and assure them that their answers will not affect their outcomes. Don’t tell them, however, that you just lied to them. If anyone if those bastards selects “no” then don’t award them. Period. If one more winner say “I didn’t think I was going to win…” or anything along those lines, they should release Kanye on ’em. UNFILTERED KANYE!
I could understand if maybe I’m sitting at home on the couch and Prince opens up the envelope, the drum roll starts, they pause for dramatic effect and then suddenly suddenly have me on the screen and call my name as the winner for best country female vocalist. That would be a fuckin’ shocker! Mainly because I am not a musician, nor a female and moreover, I was not nominated to win a fuckin’ Grammy. But if you’re actually nominated then there’s a chance, no matter how slight, that you might win. Have your shit together and give a proper speech. With the exception of Jay-Z, of course. You, sir, you may continue to say whatever the fuck you want.
The article entitled, “6 Harsh Truths That Will Make You a Better Person,” by David Wong really jolted me back on my grind. If you have some time, and I know you do, check that sucker out. Basically it makes generalizations about many people’s behaviors and just happens to strike a few chords either by luck or sheer genius. In a nutshell, he let’s you know why you are not really successful, continually strike-out with the ladies (dudes), how you waste away your life one excuse at a time, and the justified self-hate that comes along with those shortcomings.But in the end he let’s you know that he just said all that mean and honest shit to make you do something, anything during this year. I can dig that.
Wong goes on to say, “hell, pick something at random if you don’t know. Take a class in karate, or ballroom dancing, or pottery. Learn to bake. Build a birdhouse. Learn massage. Learn a programming language. Film a porno. Adopt a superhero persona and fight crime. Start a YouTube vlog. Write for Cracked.” And that’s when it hit me; I need to film a porno and/or write for Cracked this year.
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See that guy up there. He looks disappointed and he should be.
Here’s why: It has been an entire year since I have written anything for this thing. At this point I feel like I should just fold this shit up and put it away. Despite occasional pleas from pseudo-fans of the site, I have not produced one single word for more than a year. I did start on some writings, but have not been able to finish them of to the point of contentness. Another one reflected on a loss of a close friend I I’ve decided to keep that one private, for now at least. [continue reading…]
No, I’m not talking about the weekly pay day rush at my local KFC. I’m talking about the day-after-thanksgiving tradition, cleverly marketed as “black Friday.” And I’ll tell you what, it’s not named such because of the large amounts of black people there. I saw a grand total of two black families out there. I did notice an overwhelming amount of Asians, however. I would say over 70% of the folks I saw shopping were Asians. I guess they just bootleg the good shit and sell it to Americans, while they take that money to actually buy the good shit for themselves at deep discounts. I’m talking Gucci, Tory Burch, and the like. Lines were crazy. We went for the 12 a.m. opening time and spent at least 30 minutes just looking for parking, and that’s because we got lucky. All in all it was an interesting experience, but I doubt I’ll do it again. You might ask yourself why I did it in the first place, the lil lady wanted to go. The things we do for the tang. It’s a powerful thing. Speaking of what we do for the tang… I noticed that about one out of every 7-10 cars had some dude sleeping in the front seat. While that poor sucker’s wife was having her way with his back account or credit card. I was trooper. I stuck it out and I earned my just rewards: steak and b.j. Well worth every minute.
Hulluva title huh? Yes, that title is a bit of a double penetrating entendre for ya, but either way you look at it, it’s true. Before you jump the gun and think that I’ll be discussing some sort of vulgar butt smut, or pontificating on the pains and sins of poohole sex – stop! What I will be commenting on, however, is the direct correlation of the size of a man’s member to the manner in which he treats his tricks. Basically: The bigger the dick, the bigger the asshole. The smaller the dick, the nicer the guy. You may ask yourself how I even came to ponder upon such a topic, which eventually led to the production of this insightful work. well, it all started when a girl, whom I’ve never shagged before/yet, asked me why I was such an asshole. And that’s how I came up wit the title of this article. [continue reading…]