Ms. Badu

This lady’s talent is so refreshing! With so much crap on the radio these days, it’s always good when she comes out with a new track. Hope you enjoy this video. The concept is dope!

My Everyday Struggle: Religion

 

I was raised by my mother, who was, and still is, a devout Christian. I attended church most Sundays throughout the first 16 years of my life, and for the most part we attended Charismatic churches. For those of you unfamiliar with the “Charismatic Movement,” it is very similar to the Pentecostal denomination of the Christian Church. You absolutely know when you’ve been to a Charismatic church service; no sleeping going on in there! For one, many parishioners speak in tongues, and believe that God has given them the gift to speak in tongues. Now I could be wrong, but the purpose in speaking in tongues is to be able to pray for things that your conscience mind may not think about praying for. (Please correct me if I’m wrong about this, but this is what I remember being taught regarding speaking in tongues).

During my adolescent years, I also attended some very small (maybe 12 people) churches where services could last most of Sunday. Most of the time, you could forget about watching any of the 1:00 football games on Sundays. During these services, there was, of course, a collection of funds and a sermon. Most of the time the pastor preached, but sometimes one of the church members would prepare a sermon for the weekly service. I think I remember my mother preaching a sermon (she actually did very well).

Also during these church services, exorcisms would take place. Now don’t get me wrong, I never saw people’s heads spin around, and I never saw people literally bend over backwards, but I did see some pretty dark-sided stuff. Parishioners often had demons or whatever inside of them, and they would ask the congregation to cast them out. There would be alot of yelling, screaming and speaking in tongues performed by church-goers in order to cast the spirits out of their friend in need. They would “cast out” spirits of envy, fornication, promiscuity, jealously, etc. You name the “sin,” and there was a name for it.

My mother also hosted prayer meetings at our house on Saturday evenings that would sometimes go on until 3 or 4 AM. These meeting were attended by all women, and some women would bring their children (some were my age or older) if they couldn’t find someone to watch them, or if their kids just wanted to hang out in my room and play Nintendo or whatever. I enjoyed the food that people would bring over for these meetings though. Much to my embarrassment, many of the kids in my neighborhood would walk by my house on Saturday evenings and listen in to the unintelligible words coming out of the mouths of the 15 or so women in my living room. They asked me a few times at the bus stop the next day WTF was going on, and I would give some dumb answer. They stopped asking after awhile. Needless to say, the whole process freaked me out.

They would often lay hands on me in order to get the evil out, but I never passed out or anything. Every now and again, they would pray for me to be baptised in the Holy Spirit, which basically meant that I would be able to speak in tongues. I actually wanted this for myself mostly because I wanted to know if it was real. It never happened. Maybe I was too evil. Or maybe I didn’t want to sip the Kool-Aid that they were handing out. Who knows? I am still learning, and only God knows what type of lessons will slap me in the face this year, or further down the road. But I always felt that my mother and her friends/spiritual advisors were digging into some stuff that they had no business messing with.

As you’ve probably noticed, I am pretty observant. If we are together, and neither one of us is talking, I am constantly looking around to study my surroundings. With that said, most of these women that I saw on Sundays were miserable. Most of them were single (not to say that a spouse is the key to happiness, but they always talked about finding a husband). Some looked aged beyond their years. One of the ladies who was considered a spiritual adviser amongst the crew looked 25 years older than she was. I always wondered why these women were so beat up. You would think that people as obedient to God’s word as these folks were wouldn’t be so miserable. Maybe the abuse is part of a much bigger plan, but I do know that the people that introduced my people to Christianity have lied to me so long that I don’t know what to believe. For all I know, the exorcisms and what not could be a form of schizophrenia, or it could be that people have suffered so much that they want something to believe in. I always struggled with that notion, and that has caused me to stray away from religion…at least for the time being.

Now don’t get me wrong; I am not an atheist. I am not a Muslim. I really don’t know what I am. I definitely believe that there is a spiritual realm. I think it’s foolish to believe that some higher being didn’t create all of this. The Earth and it’s beings are way to complex for there not to be a master plan in all of this. I just don’t know what to believe anymore…

We’ve all heard some folks say that Christianity was spoon-fed to us by the “white man” in order to keep us in our place during slavery, and after slavery. “Turn the other cheek nigga, as the good book says. All of your suffering, working for nothing, the whelps on your back and your separation from your family are part of God’s plan. Now plow them fields!” We are told that the “white man” actually saved us from our own ignorance. We were shucking and jiving in Africa for thousands of years until the pure white man came, tainted our blood and introduced us to Jesus. I guess we owe the white man reparations huh? I’m sorry, but I can’t buy it.

I can remember asking this question to a few pastors while growing up:

“What is going to happen to all of the people that are part of remote tribes in Fiji, or Thailand that have never been exposed to Christianity? Are they going to hell?”

The answer was usually:

“Yes, they are going to hell because everyone in the world will be exposed to Christianity before they die, and therefore if they knew what was best for them, they would’ve accepted Jesus as their saviour.”

Oh really? It seems awfully arrogant of us, don’t you think? How would Christians feel if a large group of Muslims tried to force their way of living on them? I’m not a prophet, but I would think that there would probably be even more bloodshed than what we are seeing as a result of the United States forcing it’s ideologies on the people of the Middle East aka the Iraq War.

My suggestion is for you all to lead a morally sound life. Do what you feel is right. If you feel that being a good Christian is right, then that is what you should do. Do I need the Bible and a church to lead a moral life? That is part of my everyday struggle, but honestly I think you can. I know many decent people who happen to be Muslim or Buddhist. It’s really hard to believe that they are going to hell, when I know so many evil, tithes-paying Christians. I don’t want to kill, I don’t want to destroy, I don’t want to steal, and I want what most people want: happiness. Whether you find happiness in the smiles of your children, in a successful career, or in giving to the less fortunate; go for it.

I will leave you with this. Religion has caused my mother to disown me; not because I am a thief. Not because I am a murderer. She has disowned me solely on the fact that I am shacking up with my girlfriend. I also fornicate with her from time to time just so you guys know. I understand how some can see this as a sin, and maybe I do also to an extent, but I’m surviving the best way that I can. I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth, so I had to hustle my way through college the best way I saw fit. Needless to say, I accumulated alot of debt. My debt has since been payed off, and I attribute that to the fact that I sliced my bills in half by shacking up. Sue me! The alternative was to move in with my mother and end up in a straight-jacket. I honestly believe that if I lived by myself like the good Christian boy that she raised me to be, I would be in the same fucked up financial situation that I was in years ago. I could’ve chosen to wait for this miracle money-drop that was going to fall out of the sky (the same one that she has been waiting 50+ years for), and everything would’ve been fine and dandy. But, I understand that simple mathematics is just that; simple mathematics. Maybe my obedience to the good book would’ve payed off in the long run, but when is it going to pay off for my mother and her miserable friends? Maybe I’m impatient, but I don’t have 50 years to wait. I know many successful Christians, but are they truly blessed or just smart enough to know that alot of the Bible is misinterpreted due to being lost in translation? Is there a healthy balance between between being as extreme as my mother, and being completely liberal?

This is part of my everyday struggle. I mean really, is it feasible to still stone homosexuals (I think not)? How come we don’t see stories like Noah’s Ark, or Moses parting the Red Sea anymore? Were they just folklore? As dark as the current times are, you would think that God wouldn’t have stopped allowing the “Noah’s Ark” type of stories to still occur. Many of us are confused, and if something like that happened today then I wouldn’t doubt Him for one minute. Or maybe we haven’t “seen nothin yet”…Something to think about. Discuss.

-Contradiction

Vacation

I’m chillin on vacation today, but we’ll get right back in the swing of things tomorrow. Anyways, in celebration of MLK day, check out one of the craziest verses ever spit…

High Expectations and Low Patience (Please Excuse My Ramblings)

 

At least three times a week, someone in my office or out in the streets asks me, “You think you are the shit, don’t you?” I’ll usually say “Yes… Yes I do. Thanks for noticing.” I mean seriously, if I don’t think that I am, then who will? I don’t go around verbally reminding people that I think I am, because true swagger is very quiet. I will catch your eye by silently entering a room and having a seat. You can’t help but notice me; I don’t blend in well. I’m not arrogant, just confident.

I guess the evil looks and snide comments I get from people on the street come from the fact that some see me as an “atypical black man”. Many expect a black man to not have a firm grasp on proper sentence structure. (Now don’t get me wrong, because I can get down with the street vernacular too, but I know when to turn that it off). Some see me as trying to be white when they catch me mingling with a bunch of white folks at a local pub, or when they see that my clothes aren’t three sizes too big. I wear a suit everyday when I really don’t have to because I understand how important appearance is. I don’t want to come off as your typical guy; I want to stand out in a crowd. I hate mediocrity. I am a stickler on how I’m represented, and how others represent me. I will also let you know if I don’t like the way I’m being treated by you. I’m always a gentlemen, and I guess I expect certain things from people because of how I treat people. With all of that said, I will give you some scenarios, and I will tell you how I handled them. After I handled the situations, I was called and asshole after each one, or at least stared at as if I had a booger:

Scenario One: I met this young lady on the Metro one morning. She was tall, light-skinned, fine ass all outdoors, her gear was tight and had a body like Jessica Biel. The thing that really attracted me to her was that she had a very inviting aura about her. I think is was her pleasant face. She wasn’t looking at anyone in particular, but had a smile on her face that said, “I like to meet new people, so I’ll talk to just about anyone.” I decided to see what the steelo was looking like, so I approached her. And we hit it off. I slid her the business card and we talked for a week or so before we went on our first date.

We decided to go to McCormick and Schmick’s, so I picked her up around 7:00 on a Saturday night. When I came to her door, she was on her cell phone. I’m thinking, “No biggie, she’ll get off by the time we get to the car.” WRONG! Aiight, so the ride to the restaurant was about 30 minutes, and she was on the phone for about 25 of those minutes. Apparently, Taekwondishaya’s baby daddy got locked up again, and she just found out that she was pregnant with his fourth baby. So, we “small talked” for the rest of the ride and actually had some good conversation at the dinner table.

Things were going well until this dude walked over and was like, “Renee, what’s up girl!” She jumped up, and gave him a hug. (No biggie, because I’m always seeing some random girl that I dated while I’m out with a new thang). So, instead of introducing me to bruh, she says, “I’ll be back,” and rolls over to the bar with cuz. Five, ten, fifteen, twenty minutes roll by, and homegirl is still at the bar getting mad cozy with dude (knee-rubbing and the whole nine). By then, the server had been to my table four times to see what we wanted to order. The last time around, I told the server that we decided not to eat, and I gave him a twenty for his troubles. I got my coat, jumped in my ride and left her rude ass at the bar.

About twenty minutes later, she called me yelling, “Where the fuck did you go?!” I told her that I was glad that she hooked up with her long lost friend, so I left because I didn’t want to step on any toes.

“What!? How the fuck am I supposed to get home?”

“Dude can’t give you a ride?”

“Naw, he didn’t drive. Why the fuck did you do that?!!!”

“Ay sweetheart, the train is 2 blocks from the restaurant. I heard it’s nice this time of day…”

Aww man, homegirl called me all types of “bitch ass niggas” that night. That was our last date. I mean, I like to think that I’m a gentlemen and all, but shorty was out of pocket and inconsiderate. Leaving a damsel in distress like that was probably not the nicest thing to do, but fuck that shit! She had it coming. Was I wrong? Do I expect too much from folks?

Scenario Two: Some friends of mine were having a birthday dinner for me a few years back, and the dranks were flowing. I brought this young lady that I had been dating for a few months with me. I had already told her how arrogant and ignorant one of my friends (ex-friends; we’ll call him Derrick) was, but I had assumed that the stuff that I told her about his attitude was in confidence. When they were introduced, she said, “Oooohhhh. So this is him? Yeah, I’ve heard alot about you!” So, I tried to play it off, and I said something like, “Yeah bruh, I told her how hard you are on the ladies.” We left it at that.

Aiight, so some of the fellas (including myself) get into a pretty deep conversation about religion. The conversation goes on for about 5-10 minutes, and homegirl, who had already had too much to drink (and is slurring her words by now) says, “Why don’t y’all talk about something else?! Something I want to talk about!” WTF? Get in where you fit in. We were having an intellectually stimulating conversation, and plus it was my birthday. That’s the type of shit I do on my birthday cuz I’m boring like that. Shit…

She then throws her arms in the air and says, “I’m going to the bar.” And I’m thinking, “What the fuck ever. Shit…Peace.” By the time she comes back, it is almost time to end our evening. She tells us that she has had too much to drink (no shit), and that she was a tad bit scared to drive 30 minutes to her house. I think something was wrong with my car, so I couldn’t take her home. Plus, she couldn’t stay at my house because I believe at the time I was temporarily staying at my Mom’s crib. She then says, “Outblandish, why don’t you let me leave my car at your house, and Derrick can take me home.” I’m like, “Naw, that’s alright. We’ll figure something else out.” But she wouldn’t let it go. She kept saying over and over again, “Derrick should give me a ride home.” By now I’m thinking that, “I need to cut this bitch off. She doesn’t know what to say out of her damned mouth!”

You see, I told her before that night that Derrick lived around the corner from her. And as I said before, dude can be a tad ignorant at times. So, I knew for a fact that dude was going to blow this shit up into something that it wasn’t. I honestly don’t think that she was trying to get it on with Derrick, but I knew that:

1. He was going to take it as her offering up the coochie. Or:
2. He was going to tell people that my game was slipping.

Either way, she should’ve seen that I was totally against the idea of my friend taking her home. Needless to say, I let her have it when we were alone (I don’t remember how she got home, but I’m sure she ended up driving). I let her know that I’m big on representation, and that she didn’t represent me well that night. We didn’t see each other for a while, but it eventually worked out. I found out years later that Derrick told a third party that he could’ve “fucked my girl if he wanted to.” Do I expect too much from people? Do I think too much of myself? Do I take myself too seriously?

My issue is that I expect people to have common sense. I also expect them to be considerate, because I try to be. I guess I’m old-fashioned like that. But, I’m really learning that common sense is infinite, meaning that my common sense might be totally different than yours. Sometimes when you say that people lack common sense, in all actuality their common sense makes perfect sense to them. And some people are just dumb as rocks…No getting around that. And now that I’ve read this post over, I realize that I am probably an arrogant, pompous asshole. Sue me…

The Best Blog on the “Internets”

Please folks, stop e-mailing me about the title of my blog (The Best Blog on the Internets). I know that the word “Internet” doesn’t have an “s” at the end of it. Please take a look at the clip above, and you will see that the “Decider” influenced me… God that man has some serious swagger going on!

The Road to Shangri-La: Tip #1 of 10, 000

 

From time to time, I will submit posts to the “Best Blog on the Internets” with the title “The Road to Shangri-La.” These posts are usually about sex, so parental discretion is advised.

What, or where is Shangri-La you ask? Shangri-La is a place that few will ever see on a consistent basis. Most of us will visit there from time to time, and most of you have been there at least once. It is a place where all of your sexual itches are scratched simultaneously. Sounds good, right? Well let me show you how to get there.

This post happens to be for the ladies. Like I said, this is Tip #1 of 10, 000, so don’t think that all you will have to do is read this one post in order to get your man to buy you a crib in Shangri-La.  But, it is a good start. This may seem like the easiest one of my tips to fulfil for you man, but word on the streets is that some ladies have a hard time with this one. Some women don’t see the point…

 ”Shut the fuck up and get to the tip,” you say? Well here goes it:

Match. Your. Panty. Drawls. Up. With. Your. Bras. Get your shit together, as my man T.I. says.

See ladies, if your man or dude you are having an affair with  is sophisticated like me, the things that he put up with during his teenage and early college years just don’t cut the mustard anymore. Let me try to explain. You see, during our teenage years, us guys were just happy to be fucking whenever a chick was stupid enough to give away her tender yoni.  It didn’t matter if the chick was ashy, if her feet were a mess or if her panties didn’t have elastic in them anymore. If she was willing to give it up, we were going to hit it, because we didn’t give a shit about such trivial things. We wanted a good story to tell our homeboys.

If you are like me, you did a whole shitload of freaking during those formative college years. During my college years, I started really learning what I wanted in a woman or freak I was seeing on the side. I figured out what type of mental traits I liked in women, but this post isn’t about that. This is about the visual. Basically, our “freak” evolved during the college years. We began to respect and pay more attention to the details of women. By the end of college or soon thereafter, we had already been turned out by that one freak young lady that brought your “freak” to it’s peak. Ladies, you probably had already met that dude that did the same for you by then also.

This chick worked her muscles a certain way (oh yeah), her hair was always on point, nails and toes done, and her panties always (and mean always) matched her bras. Uh oh, no turning back. By now, you expect certain things from your future sex partners, and anything less just turns you off after a while. Or maybe this is just my experience, but I doubt it. Fellas?

As you know ladies, you are all into that emotional stuff. We understand this because we have to, and we try our best to walk on egg shells around you cater to you emotional needs. Us men, we are physical beings. We are turned on by you looking good and being our personal freak; not by how long you can hold us after a long night of heavy panting and stomach-bumping. What I’m saying is, perserve your sexy ladies. You are sexy, so act like it. Take advantage of that pretty ass, supple breasts and smooth-ass thighs. You won’t look this way for long, so ride the wheels until they fall off.

If your man is like me, he probably has some pretty young thang at work trying to throw him her tender yoni on a daily basis. It’s just the way it is. This chick probably has the body of a goddess, and she’ll probably jump on every opportunity to tease you man. Maybe she bends over in front of him to pick up some documents or whatever, only to display her thongs that she picked out especially for your man; you know, to reel him in. And you better believe that the bra matches the thongs. Oh, the temptation! But, this dude loves Y-O-U. But ladies, you are making it more difficult for the both of you if you don’t take your time and coordinate your drawls. If you have a good man, he will drop a few hundred dollars on some lingerie just to make himself you happy. He has to deal with this temptress for at least eight hours a day, and then he has to come home to you every night with your sagging white drawls with the elastic busted the fuck out, your shit brown bra and a stank ass bandana on your head! (If this doesn’t apply to you, then ignore this tip.) That shit ain’t sexy, and that is not the way to get your yoni cared for on a daily basis like only your man can – cuz we know you like fucking just as much as we do! Yeah he loves you, but that temptress in the office might catch him on the wrong day, and boom! – they are getting it on on the top of a broken copy machine or maybe in the garage!

One last point: Like I said, we are visual creatures. And if your dude has grown into a sophisticated being, then he likes to come home to unwrap his perfectly-wrapped gift (“Damn you look good girl! Shit!”). I mean, don’t y’all just looooove pretty wrapping paper? (Yeah, you see my point).

I know women that wouldn’t get caught dead without matching underwear. They feel that they want to look good for their man, but the real kick is that they feel better about themselves when their temple (or body for you slow folks) is adorned with the perfect accents to their beautiful physique. What’s going on underneath permeates to the outside, giving her swagger. And swagger is sexy! And if you look sexy, and feel sexy, then there’s no way your man would rather go to sleep, hang out with his boys, or roll in the hay (or supply closet) with that freak in the office over making sweet, passionate love to your fragrant yoni. No way in hell! So, work with us ladies and your cooch will be happy. And when your happy cooch makes our lingam happy consistently, then you will get an occasional pair of shoes out of the deal. Everybody wins! And take that fucking do-rag off your hair when it’s time to get down. We want to pull your hair if you have any because we’ve seen it in pornos. But I digress…

Again, this is not a cure-all for your sexual woes. But, we need to start at your panty drawls. Everything will fall into place before you know it. Stay tuned for the next tip, where I will talk about the “coochie drop-off”. And ladies, don’t get mad at me. I am not picking on you, because I definitely have some things to tell the fellas about what they need to do. Stay tuned…

-Contradiction

The Crack Epidemic – The Long Term Affects

 

In case you missed it, there was thing called the ”Crack Epidemic” that apparently demolished inner cities and trailer parks across the U.S. and A roughly between the years of 1984 and 1991. The government Some genius came up with the perfect recipe for destruction. The “Epidemic” was documented in movies like New Jack City, and we’ve seen the affects of the drug in people like Bobby Brown, Whitney Houston, Flavor Flav and your Uncle Lenny. Ironically, the “Crack Epidemic” occurred around the same time that AIDS was running wild amongst the unwanted American minorities. Reagan and Daddy Bush were busy as hell!

The main ingredient in crack is a narcotic called cocaine, which in it’s powder form had previously been very popular with wealthier people and future politicians because of the high price. Unfortunately, most poor people had never tasted this sweet candy because smack was a little cheaper. But yeah, the government and their brilliant scientists and cooks this genius somehow figured a way to make cocaine cheaper for blacks. You see, you mix a little cocaine with some baking soda, water, flour and an egg (the egg holds everything together)…and there you have it…you got crack! Sorry for giving away the recipe, but whatever… All you had to do was put it in a pipe and smoke it. The government genius sold this recipe to upper and mid-level street pharmacists across America, and they cleaned up! Who said that there wasn’t business opportunities in the hood?

Although the take-off of crack put money in the pockets of countless people that had previously been destitute, (and helped the government destroy the black people that hadn’t already been destroyed by Vietnam and/or heroin) it also had its affects (believe it or not). Yes it’s true that crackheads can be entertaining (don’t lie to yourselves folks), and that they come up with some hellified dances, but it also wreaked havoc amongst my people. In addition to making users lose alot of weight, one of the problems with cocaine is that it makes you want to fuck like rabbits, and apparently diluting it with water and eggs didn’t do much to reverse this effect. Addicts didn’t want to use couldn’t afford condoms, so the addicts had babies. And plenty of them! All jokes aside, many of the babies died, and many lived briefly with serious birth defects. Many of the babies turned out to be perfectly healthy…or so we thought.

Now for the more serious part of the post. Fast forward to 2008. The babies that were born to users during the “Crack Epidemic” that turned out perfectly healthy are now what…like 16-23 years old. Think about those ages for a while (uh huh, some of you might see where I’m going with this). I can remember seeing reports of the affects of crack on babies in the 1990’s, but we only saw examples of extreme cases. Well, what about those kids that “initially” showed no affects at all? What about those recreational crack users that had children in the 80’s and 90’s? I don’t know of any studies that followed these children, and I don’t think that there’s any way possible to pull stats on the children whose parents didn’t make it into the system. All I’m saying is that there were alot of people smoking crack (especially in the early and mid 80’s) because it was cool…kinda like weed. There were probably more people smoking crack then you may think…

All of these facts bring me to this…..These youngins (16-23 year olds) out here are lunchin (buggin, trippin or whatever you say in your hood)! Everyday on the news, we hear stories of teenagers and young adults committing pointless acts of violence. Not to say that dudes weren’t getting shot up when I was growing up. In fact, DC was the murder capital for some time during my adolescent years. But now, the blood running through these kids’ veins is colder than ever. They just don’t give a fuck, whether you are in “the Game” or whether you are an old lady; if they want what you have, they will shoot you in the head for it, even if you don’t put up a struggle. No questions asked; no remorse. Just reckless shit man! And while I’m not a fan of the mainstream media because I know that they allow you hear what they want you to hear, but all you have to do is go outside and see that these youngins are lost (I don’t need Fox to tell me that). Just ride the train between the hours of 1:00 and 4:00 and you’ll see what I’m talking about. Or listen to what they call music (Shit, I must be getting old. I sound like my mother). Remember D4L? Don’t get me wrong, most of the youngins are doing fine, but those bad apples are more rotten and prevalent then ever.

But really, is it that hard out here? Is it harder than slavery was? Is it harder than the Jim Crow era? I think not. So folks, what’s going on? Is it harder than it’s ever been out here, or are these youngins spoiled as shit? Or maybe we haven’t really looked into the long term affects of crack on the user’s offspring? Whatever it is, as my boy Black Thought says, “It don’t feel right.” Discuss…I’m sure I’ll get cursed out before Friday about this one.

The Dr. Phil of the Streets: Dallas Cowboys Fans Born and Raised In DC

Disclaimer: I love the city of Dallas. I love the food, the atmosphere, the skyline, the beautiful women, and I love my family members from Dallas. I’ve been there many times, and I look forward to going back this year. I think all of my family  members that live in Dallas, and those that have relocated to DC from Dallas are Cowboys fans. I totally understand the fact that they are Dallas fans (although you might catch me displaying my mean side-eye game from time to time when they talk about the Cowboys). However, they are exempt from this post. Now…

Occasionally, you will see posts on this blog entitiled “Dr. Phil of the Streets,” where I will tell you what I KNOW about certain psychological issues retarding your progress on our planet. So, without further “to do,”  (as my boy Carlito Brigante eloquently put it), here goes it. I’ll start off with a little background info for you foreigners…

Washington DC is a football town. Fuck hockey, fuck futbol, definitely fuck baseball (which will be the topic of one of my posts later on this week), and even basketball. Yeah, we love the Wizards and the Bullets, but our passion is football (not as much as the situation in Green Bay because they really don’t have anything else to do, but pretty damn close). I cried when LT broke Joe Theismann’s leg. I can’t express to you the pure joy our city felt when Doug Williams and the “Posse” whooped up on Denver in Superbowl XXII. Remember the T-shirts and sweatshirts with Doug Williams’ big ass face on them that said “Touch of Class?” Aww man! Or what about when Mark Rypien, Earnest Byner and the crew whooped up on Buffalo in Superbowl XXVI. Remember the songs that the crew over at WPGC 95.5 came up with before every game? Corny, but pure genius! So, needless to say, I was born and raised (for the most part) in Washington DC, and I will probably be wearing a Redskins jersey at my funeral.

Which brings us to this ridiculousness…(Deep Breath..sigh) There are alot (and I mean alot) of Dallas Cowboys fans living in the DC Metropolitan area. For those of you that don’t know, the Cowboys are the Redskins biggest rival. In my opinion, this is the biggest rivalry in sports history. I don’t know if it has to do with the whole Cowboys vs. Indians Native Americans thing, but if you are a minority, then how can you be against the Indians. But anyways, it is a HUGE issue in DC! We play the Cowboys twice a year due to the fact that they are in our division. Some of the greatest games in history have been between these two teams, which makes for some good shit-talking opportunities when these games occur. It’s all in fun, or so I think…

My issue is with these folks in our great nation’s capital that were born and raised in DC that happen to be Cowboys fans. I’m talking about DC to the core; you know, folks walking down the street with Mambo Sauce stains on their Nike boots, rocking some Chuck on their iPod…with a fucking Dallas sweatshirt underneath their North Face!. Y’all know what I’m talking about. What kind of fuckery is this I say? Since the DC-bred Cowboys fans I talk to on a daily basis have never given me a straight answer about their obsession with Dallas, I’ve been forced to form my own facts opinion on this matter: they do it for attention.

We all have insecurities; even me! And we all have our ways with dealing with them. Facially challenged individuals get plastic surgery if they can afford it, but some accentuate what they have going for them instead of going under the knife. We’ve all seen the ugly chick with the incredible ass. She understands that she is not the easiest thing to look at around the face area, so you are guaranteed to see her at all times with some tight jeans that accentuate her perfectly rotund posterior. Do you baby girl! Embrace that ass!

Unfortunately, some individuals deal with their insecurities by begging for attention, whether it be negative or positive (look at that sellout chick on I Love New York). Some people want to be “that guy”. You know, that guy that tries to be different so people can pay attention to him, because otherwise he would be irrelevant. Oh yeah, you know him…This is the case with the Cowboys fans from DC. You know, the bammas with the big ass Cowboys’ flags outside of their car. They are begging for attention, even though the attention is usually negative. They don’t care though, because it makes them feel like someone is interested in them, when really us Skins fans think you are fucking idiots. Am I right or wrong? Yeah, you feel me…Am I breaking some ground here?

Hey people, look. I understand that we live in a free-ish, kinda democratic country. That means that we should be able to choose which team to root for, right? WRONG!! We all know that this really isn’t a democracy, so you don’t have all the rights that you think you should have. You have been bamboozled! Sorry to inform you.

I apologize for this long post, but just let me leave you with this one point. Love yourself, because when it is all said and done, you are all you have in this world. My couch is open if you want to talk about this. Moses knows that I’ve had to stretch out on a couch or seven to be the disturbed person that I am today. We will try to find your positive attributes, and I will help you focus on bringing those to the forefront. Then, you won’t need to beg for attention because you will get it without saying a word (or putting a dumb ass flag on your car). Let’s bring you back home. And if you don’t think that you need my help, then do us all a favor and jump off of the Reunion Tower. As my man Hal McRae says, “Now put that in your pipe and smoke it!” One…

-Contradiction

Random Thought #1 – Women and Shit

Disclaimer: This post is not about me. It is about a “buddy” of mine. I have plenty of room in my closets…so much room, that I can probably have a breakdancing competition in any one of my closets (real talk, as the young kids say). And if you believe this disclaimer, then you are crazy.

I have about 10 random thoughts every minute, but only a few of them are worthy of being posted on this blog. As much as I claim to know everything, I am guilty of being stumped every now and then (believe it or not).

This is a question for the ladies out there. What is it in your genetic makeup that makes you unhappy until you fill up every single inch of your/our home with shit things? Is it to piss us off? How many grocery bags do you need to hold on to? How many Victoria’s Secret, Macy’s and Linens N’ Things bags do you need? Do the bags become valuable after your favorite stores change their logos? Do you keep all of your old ass clothes to remind you of when you booty was smaller (cuz it sure isn’t fitting in those jeans ever again)? Or maybe the clothes remind you of when you were in a better relationship then your current one? I’m not even going to get into the shoes and handbags!!! What kinda fuckery is this?!

What makes it OK to go to Target the day after Christmas to stock up on marked-down Christmas ornaments when:

1. You didn’t use half of the ornaments you bought on December 26 of last year?
2. You had an extremely hard time getting your coat out of the closet to go to Target because the closet was filled with shit that no one needs?

I can remember visiting a family member in NC (sorry cuz) a little while ago, and she had little knick-knacks and statues EVERYWHERE!! I knocked over two miniature statues on my way to use her bathroom, and she got pissed. I literally had to tip-toe throughout her house in fear of my footsteps causing things to fall over. And she’s a big girl, so I don’t know how in the hell she doesn’t break something daily.

Lastly, why make a trip to Costco for meat when you were hardly able to close the freezer when you left the house? Why does a household of two need 15 jars of spaghetti sauce? Holy shit!

And ladies, don’t get mad when your man comes home late from work for no apparent reason. Please don’t get mad if he would rather chill with his boys then come home to you. Yeah, I know you IM’ed him all day about all of the nasty and sick shit you would do to him when he got home. But, don’t get mad. He is probably tired of looking at all of your shit nice things. Or maybe he just feels like your shit is suffocating him? I’ve never suffocated before, but I’m sure asphyxiation is not the way to go out. How can you blame him for wanting space? After all, you probably ignore all of the crap that you have that serves no purpose just to ask him about some old socks of his? “Why do you keep these old socks anyway, baby? Why don’t you just get rid of them?” WTF is that about?

So ladies, tell me what this is all about…please. Maybe your plan is to open up a thrift store. No? OK, then maybe (just like with 95% of the stuff you do) it’s just game. I’ll have to admit, y’all are the smarter species and most of you all have game. Maybe you suffocate us with the intent on us coming home late so that you can have your time to do whatever (i.e. talk trash about us to your girlfriends, or get down with you thug ass ex-boyfriend who could care less about your borderline “hoardish” ways). Or maybe this is just my “buddy’s” situation. Discuss…

Prince, KLB and the Bucket List

“If ur Last December came what would u do?
Would anybody remember 2 remember u?
Did u stand tall?
Or did u fall?
Did u give ur all? Did u ever find a reason y u had 2 die?
Or did u just plan on leaving without wondering y?
Was it everything it seemed?
Or did it feel like a dream?
Did u feel redeemed? In the name of the Father
In the name of the Son
We need 2 come 2together
Come 2gether as oneDid u love somebody but got no love in return?
Did u understand the real meaning of love that it just is and never yearns?
When the truth arrives
Will u b lost on the other side?
Will u still b alive?In the name of the Father
In the name of the Son
We need 2 come 2together
Come 2gether as one In ur life did u just give a little
or did u give all that u had?
Were u just somewhere in the middle
Not 2 good, not 2 bad?

In the name of the Father
In the name of the Son
We need 2 come 2together
Come 2gether as one”

-Prince

These lyrics were really on my heart this morning. Actually, I probably listen to this Prince song 3 times a week. Recently, I lost a friend of mine that I’ve known since 7th grade to a heart attack. Gone, just like that at 27! She really lived her life to  the fullest, and she tried to meet every single person on the planet during her brief time with us lol. I also lost a teacher from middle school and high school suddenly who was taken way too soon.

 It seems as though some people feel that they won’t be here long, and they try to cram everything they can in the time that they know was allotted for them. That’s deep!

I wonder if Kindra knew that her days were numbered. For those of you that don’t know, Kindra Latrice Butts was my best friend. She died a few years ago from heart issues also at the age of 24 (I think she was 24). Here one day, gone the next. Yeah, that one right there messed me up bad. A few months before her death, Kindra and I were beefing about God knows what; probably just normal, friendship bullshit. For those of you that knew her, y’all know that that woman was stubborn and that she could hold a grudge (LOL!). But for some reason, she was the mature one and decided to make amends. We began hanging again (popping that 1738, hitting j’s and laughing our damn lungs out on). She had alot of issues going on with her, but she kept pushing on with life like things didn’t affect her. She was trying really hard to finish her Master’s, and only death could’ve stopped her. Soon thereafter, I got the worst phone call ever. I would’ve been even more devastated if we were having some petty ass beef when she left us. I wonder if she knew…

All of the death around me reminds of this new movie with Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman (aka Crazy Joe aka Batman) called the “Bucket List.” I haven’t seen it, but the commercials tell you what you need to know. Basically, these two old dudes somehow find out that they don’t have much time to live, so they travel the world, skydive and do all types of other white people stuff. Very interesting. What’s on your Bucket List? Here’s a little bit of my bucket list (let’s say I have a year to live):

1. Travel to South Africa, Egypt, Brazil and The Netherlands
2. Write my book on God knows what (maybe that should be the title….hmmmm.)
3. Have 3 or 4 ménage à trois (I’ve almost had two, but I probably talked myself out of both of them)
4. Take a cross-country trip in a tricked out Winnebago and interview all of the crazy people I meet in the flyover states.
5. Get a band, and perform in front of a club filled to capacity (I’m black, which means that I know how to sing and dance).
6. Record an album.

I’m sure there’s more stuff to add to my bucket list, but I can’t think of anything right now. What would be on your list?

-Contradiction