Skeletons in my closet

The silent running dialogue that I often have with myself.

Wednesday, November 23, 2005

And the winners were not!

Quick Hit

Did anyone see the AMA?

I like Lindsey Lohan better when she was heavier with nice breast, I think yon girl was fine, back in the day, now Hollywood got her skinny ass. (I think I said that before, damn am I hiding in the bushes on a white girl?!?!)

Hillary Duff is the most Vanilla white girl I have every seen. She looked overly medicated, or she had been crying.

I hate the little sporty hat on brothers. That shyte is only cool on women and Justin Timberlake. But the sporty hat and big brothers just aint clicking! For one take Cedric the Entertainer for instance. We all know he a round dude, right? So you know brother head is swollen. So the little sporty hat is probably pretty huge. Titled to the side or sitting on top it still looks like some little Tinkerbell, Peter Pan type gimmick. Get you a Dobb and give that little sporty hat shyte a rest.

How does Will Smith win a Music award. Now dont get me wrong I would rather my child listen to him than Laffy taffy but...well lets just say music is having problems right now.

How was 50 in a pop rock category?

I think overall, with the obvious over inclusion of country music, this was the worst award show I have every seen in my life.

PS. Why are these little strung out, medicated, intoxicated white girls singing at a music awards show? We all can sing, but it doesn’t mean we should do it in public. It was pathetic. Sorry Lindsey, my love!

Tuesday, November 22, 2005

Old School Frame of Mind

Guess you can consider me old school. Not just based on the music I enjoy, or the clothes I wear. I really have a methodology that lends it self to a less than modern way of thinking. I don’t feel bad, or out of touch, in fact I think that holding on to these old tenants put me a small step above average/normal society.

During my morning commute, I turned off my Kanye West Late Registration get crunk session, (that brother makes you feel better) and flitted through the local radio stations. I settled on the black/urban station and laughed quietly to the banter ongoing. The topic of the day dealt primarily with the roles that people play in their relationships. The call-ins ranged from women who expected to be taken care of to men who expected to be taking care of.

Now, I did preface this conversation with an overview of my way of thinking, Old School, but now let me break it down. When I speak of old school I am not talking bout James Evans “Kitchen and the Bedroom, Kitchen and the bedroom kind of mentality. I truly believe that the more we recognize the different needs and natures of men and women, the better we get along. I guess it sounds almost like the cultural diversity argument. The more we know about the opposite sex the better we relate. Hell the more we know about people the better we relate.

To that extent I was disappointed with almost every call in.

Some women proclaimed to detest dependence and suggest that a self-sufficiency is the only way to be. This is also called the “I don’t need a man” argument. While it is true that being self-sufficient is a desirable trait, I could think of several more traits, that if achieved would defiantly best sufficiency. Loving and open comes to mind, smart, and intuitive comes to mind. Accepting and honest tops the list. Besides who wants to be alone, man or woman. So while you don’t need a man to live, you do need relationships to make living worthwhile. Not a slam on single woman or men, just my honest old school opinion.

Some men actually called and insulted themselves by suggesting that women are only good for sex and domestic duties. Both are important, but why do blind men profess to see the most?
“Give you an example, what would be the point in having Target if all I purchased was soap. I never even search the else or spend idle time viewing the latest gadgets. I go in and buy soap. The Target remains a shopping marvel but I limit myself by only purchasing Soap. Other analogies include having a Corvette and driving 40mph, making love with the lights off, only listing to the first track of a CD.
Women are so awesome, truly more so than men. Taking aside my natural bias, look at the facts. Women can have babies and feed them!!!! That in itself is, “Nuff Said!” but I will add, they nurture us. They accept us, and only require our love, loyalty, and fidelity. (Shyte like that aint everything!). Their complexity beyond their sex is what makes women, women. Any brother that doesn’t see that is probably immature or merely disguising some less than masculine attributes. Funniest thing I heard last night was a comment by a Doctor of some sort, who suggested that the sexual fantasy of being with two women really speaks more of a mans desire not to disappoint, and less than true sexually prowess. I guess if two others are in the bed it aint his fault if shyte don’t end in orgasmic delight.

The rest of the callers equally disappoint. Women who believe that their sex is enough to keep them paid and pampered. Yeah right, Juicy abounds just look around; every woman you see has one. Now if you are suggesting that all you will have to do is whatever it takes sexually to please your man, doesn’t that just make you an ordinary ho.
And right along with this misinformed cadre are the men who think dollars will get her and keep her. Just be forewarned, unless you are Bill Gates or some Sheik Abdul in the Middle East, you are destined for failure.

Then the brother that professes to be a PIMP. Laughable at best. I have never seen anyone that is more proud of mistreating people than a Pimp. I guess that is why most publicaly recognized Pimps attire themselves so lavishly. These Dap daddies cock and strut with the best of them, them that have self loathing, and no self esteem. Yeah you a pimp allright brother usa pimp.

Well, I gave up on listening to these poor lost souls. I cranked up my Mr. West and called my Momma and apologized for acting ignorant for all those years. See track #16.

Monday, November 21, 2005

I'm In Love With A Stripper

“I’m in love with a stripper!”

Not me, really not me. It has been years since I hurried to Walgreens and bought a pack of gum with a hundred dollar bill.
“Could I get 99 ones please?”

That is the title to a song I heard on the way to work this morning. Can you believe it? Does this bottomless pit have no end?

No?, okay it is bottomless, right. Anyway, I listened in disbelief as the young cat blasted verse after verse about his love for a certain glittered clad overly perfumed club performer. He had one of those Akon sounds. I don’t know the names of any of the wave of singers but a lot is left to be desired. When I hear a record now I don’t know if it’s a Rap or RB, I don’t know if the record is for the rapper or the singer. But this love ballad was straight RB.

This dude was in love with a stripper!

The past is a hard thing to live down so most people push it way back deep into the closet…ie skeletons. As I write certain things I intentional pull these old bones out make room for new ones, and to express and cleanse the soul. How-some-ever, my sordid history contains many chapters…One Could be labeled STRIPPERS. I never was a big stripper fan. I always felt that a smooth azz brother such as myself should not pay for or want for the affections of females. I had podnuhs who would throw big money at these impressionable young ladies in some vain attempt to win their affections. This hard headed bunch failed to realize that:
1. If it took money for her to notice you, it would take more money

to get more noticed.
2. Somebody always had more money than you.
3. IF she was really that tight, she probably just wants your

4. IF she was really that nice she probably wouldn’t be strippen.

Nothing against strippers, but man what a way to make a living!
So I was pulled into this murky underworld by the first older woman I dated. She was about 10 years my senior. She was a Budweiser Girl, a pro at presenting her body. I met her at a club that had just opened. The club was trying to drum up business so they had models perform. She was a lingerie model, she never really got buck-naked but I think a little clothing is just as sexy as nudity. No popping, just a sultry walk and swagger. She commanded attention. Ms. Lady pulled me in like a fly into the spider’s web, and at 18, I was happy to die. Ms. Lady was good, she would make it known that I was the object of her affections and all the other cats would pour on the dollars to try and buy her from me. I was still shy and uncomfortable, not ready for all of this. But I manned up.
Lets just say that we left with both our lives in shambles. I still say till this day she taught me everything I know about women, sex, and relationships, everything. After writing this I realize that I still romanticize her, and that time…but I didn’t love no stripper.

But this song!!! C’mon people. How far will we slide? I mean I thought “My Neck My Back” was the bottom of the barrel. Now we have moved on to such gems like:
“My MilkShake”
“The Whisper Song”
“My Hump”
“Shake That Laffy Taffy”
We sing/rap openly about formerly taboo sexual acts, so blatant is the sexuality that we hardly even notice. We actively don’t listen to the words and like the beat. Yeah right, half of yall know way more than the chorus to David Banner’s “Don't Play With Me” song,

Now we select balladeers to croon our scantly clad performers. Lest I speak to quickly for I have never truly been in that situation, I do understand. I don’t fancy the glitter, the musky smelling perfumes, the less than explainable makeup that accompany these pole top performers. I respect the craft. I respect those who do it well. If, you just go out and sweat, “Pop that Thang”, do a split, open your legs and pick up dollars, you are a different breed than which I refer. I am talking to the skill set that makes it clap. A skill set that balances on the pole and performs acrobatic feats previously reserved for the Cirque du Soleil. A skill set that rises or lowers to any occasion to meet and exceed the demands of it varied clientele.

Besides all of that, how many strippers have actually broken up happy homes?

Maybe I judged them to quickly and if is okay, someone has to love Luscious, Mercedes, Porsha, Strawberry, Dark Chocolate, Honey, Lexis, Devine, Destiny, Super-Thick, and Lady ‘T’.