Hey Ladies...Get Funky!

Whicky, Whicky, Whicky, Scratch, Scratch, Scratch!

Ok, yeah, for old hip-hop heads out there, I just displayed that I am on the precipice of my 40's. For some reason the sound of an old needle going against the grain of vinyl records (if my blog ever gets big enough that under 30-year olds read this particular entry, a vinyl record predated the cassette tape, which predate the CD, which predated the .mp3/aac/wma/ogg/whatthefrigeva music file/ipod/mp3 player thangs that you grew up with. Yes, we actually had to get up, put the record on, place the needle at the edge, and listen to pops and cracks...that was HIGH FIDELITY) just made me sigh recently as I was listening on my car stereo to some old school hip-hop. A lot of my friends (correction, the few folks that actually are not afraid to be seen with me outside of a building) tease me because of my 10, 675 music files that are currently in my car as of this writing, probably 50% of predates this present decade by anywhere between 10 and 40 years. I will start a ranting and rave on music and how it affects lives in another blog, and I am sure it'll be longer than some others, as that collecting music is my hobby, and certain songs have affected me or were popular during certain aspects of my existence.

Anyway, back to the subject at hand. Last time we chatted, I was discussing my views on how the ladies could REDUCE (note kids, a few of you replied back, saying I was implying that my views would work 100% of the time; if that was the case, things like spending close to $10K on car audio equipment looking for the "right sound" would of never happened, and my wife wouldn't cringe every time I get a new Crutchfield magazine in the mail) the likelihood that their fellas will step out 'em.

I want to speak to you for a moment, if I could. For one, you guys know you rule the world, right? I mean seriously, think about this for a moment. Without you, there would be no us...no boys, no girls, no Hanna-Barbera cartoons for little kids that YOU created to watch on Saturdays (until the crap-ass commercials portraying themselves as Cartoons that they have on today...with the exception of "Spongebob." I have to admit...sometimes that is pretty bloody funny). I am a "SuperFriends" man myself (once again Pre-30 year olds, do ya research...u got the Internet on your phones, don't ya?)

Now the fellas probably are saying "yeah, his boy jingles are probably locked away in his wife's purse for writing stuff like this." Sigh...sometime the truth is like a swift kick in the tackles....it just hurts, and your manhood will try to save face, despite the fact you are now drooling profusely because u wish to cry...really, really bad. Here's the deal why women rule the world...and it ain't what you think it is (even though it is a really, really, really close second...you cannot get that "second place thing" at Wal-Mart, order it online...wait, I guess you can if you have a lot of credit...a friend of mine got divorced by running up his ex's credit cards doing that...use the knuckle shuffle and try to duplicate it, etc. It's like Coke...it's the "real thing" or bust, ya know?).

Women are simply smarter than us. Period.

If Hilary Clinton didn't act like a raving pyshco hose beast, she'd be cruising to the presidency on November 4th. However, she's a brilliant woman, and she probably wouldn't of been a bad president. Mother Theresa came up with the most brilliant PR campaign ever....leave the trappings of materialistic needs, the folks will listen. Madonna is one of the most brilliant business women in music history...taking a somewhat limited vocal range and creating an empire (note, she is about to lose a big chunk of that, and I will go into the one thing that trips women up as I conclude this soliloquy). I can do some research and come up with a whole bunch of other great examples. The Good Lord/Buddha/Allah/the apple you worshipped while you were tripping on whatever you took in college didn't give women physical strength like a man, but they can push out 5-7lb human beings through a space the size of a golf ball. Ask a man to do that, when they cry like bitches over a paper cut; imagine trying to say push a kid out of any OTHER hole...I am bowled over after a bad case of diarrhea.

Men will let their boy hang with them, spend up their cash, and do their check like some homework, and get over it. Women DO NOT TRUST OTHER WOMEN. Most of my friends are female...and my spouse AIN'T happy about it. However, she doesn't understand that no girls want a pot-bellied, Mini-Fat Albert lookin', no money having black man with a bad back (yeah, I just killed any hook up opportunities via this blog....oh well). But, I understand...it takes brains to slide in like that and take someone else's man...that, and the talent of sucking paint off of a wall doesn't hurt, either (see previous blogs....we males are pretty damned simple, and a good...correction...ANY lay usually makes us bite like Ethiopian fish).

Intelligence will defeat any muscle head, has beaten superior sports teams (See Super Bowl 42 for example), has won wars. This, and the inner strength of being a mother (both emotional and physical) is why they outlive men, catch infidelity, and ultimately win arguments (especially when they make men think they've won arguments...do ya notice fellas that a good chunk of the time that men...assuming you still love your woman, end up apologizing? Because she convinced you that you're wrong...even if you have video proof to the contrary!)

Here's the only problem that the ladies seem to have...the one thing that seems to defeat them at every turn and why men think (operative word, THINK...goes the same route as why we never need directions) they are better than y'all.

Your damned emotions.

The ladies that stay with their men, even tho they should have a kennel in the backyard because they are that big of a dog. Or for those men who degrade you. Listening to our 10,000 year old Bull Poopy that we feed you over and over again...you buy it like air, and air is free! Ladies, how many times you have ended up with that, um, "taste" in your mouth after some one night stand, and you are sneaking out with your underwear on backwards, saying to yourself...

"I can't believe I bought that malarkey!" (Or some stronger variation of that statement)...

For the 10th time this year.

Or, to quote Eddie Murphy, you bought the "It wasn't me" line?

Hell, when I was single, I did it (note, I can't do it to my woman...slightly off subject, but to prove the intelligence of women, I ordered some car audio speakers, and got my cousin to say she sent them to me as a gift. Don't you know my wife, with her Wonder Woman-like reflexes, got to the invoice before I could discard it. The woman should be a CSI...she would know if I had soap to cover up the cheating smell before I took off my clothes, ok?) and it was purchased like cigarettes are on food stamps.

And getting back to Mrs. Madonna Louise Ciccone Ritchie (well, the "Ritchie" part is about to be excommunicated), she didn't get a pre-nup...one of the most brilliant careers in music history in terms of business, and YOU DIDN'T PROTECT YOUR $500 MILLION DOLLAR PLUS FORTUNE? Crack...and emotions...kills. Kinda Like Michael Jackson and Jesus Juice....unless it erases memory, not exactly a good career move.

I guess perhaps it is (insert deity of your choice here)'s way of balancing the sexes. Men got the physical strength (and sadly, 5% of the males got 95% of the money in the U.S., to not speak of the rest of the world...see my "WASP" comment in my original blog), women got the brains. Arrogance (and listening to the "line and tackles"...thanks, Austin P.) by men have caused wars and most other of the world's problems; emotions have caused films like "Fatal Attraction" and albums (another pre 30's reference, CD's for the more recent) like 1995's "Jagged Little Pill" (a pissed off woman's emotional outrage put to music after being dumped by...Dave Coulet? (I'd be hurt too if I got dumped by the guy from "Full House") being a huge success.

But ultimately, despite that emotional "baggage" (and don't get me wrong, the fact you guys are emotional and caring creatures is a beautiful thing; just that at times if you play the man game and just go "get you some", leave it at the door...saves you a lot of heartache and legal fees), you ladies rule the world because ultimately, if you go by a graveyard on any given day, it is always a grieving WIDOW watching the permanent Serta Mattress-in-a-box going into the ground.

Ladies are kind of like roaches...u just can't be killed...you notice roaches always run when the light comes on.

The "D-Con of Life" (or men's Bull Poopy) just can't get ya...u're always the last ones standing, no matter how many times males try to step on ya...just don't let your tears turn you into "Roach Motel" victims.

I'd Rather Drink 6 Razor Blades....

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I've Seen The Future And It Will Be.....

The funky, funky, funky hit records have hit the needle, and I am about to spit out a few useless (well, perhaps to you, but in doing this It may make me feel better) rhymes, riddles, thoughts and piddles for folks to take with them, dust off, and maybe use in their lives to better themselves (or tell friends and loved one that some crazy black guy who lives in the midwest is bored at 1 AM in the morning, EST).

I am what you may call a "failed writer" (i.e. has more rejections than Micheal Jackson applying for a day care center job) who wanted to at least prove to himself he can be useful in a world full of folks who, well, are pissed off at one thing or another. I have just finished watching 5 innings of the 2008 World Series (which mean I am among the 8 people or so who still give a crap about America's Pastime), and while IM'ing for the first time in years with some old friends from the past, suggested after reading my ramblings on my "MySpace" page that I should start a blog, in the hopes of one day someone seeing me and being foolish enough to give me "paper" (gotta practice the Ebonics; being married to a white woman, I have to keep sharp on the assumed lingo that even in the 21st century some folks still feel tis the only way I can communicate). So, here I am, pecking away, knowing that my sleep-apnea having a** should be in bed, trying to get some sleep.

There are a few things on my mind this evening-slash-morning that I do wish to speak of to an audience of no one. One, as most folks around the world should know, in about 9 days The United States (or the Estados Unidos, as it will be known by according to my spouse, as that by 2032 or so Hispanics will be the majority....I told her to change her name to "Carlita" and she'll be safe) is about to make history by electing either its first African American President or its first female Vice President (which, in Palin's case, is sort of like getting Ms. Congeniality....useless unless the winner poses in Playboy with another chick). Now being African American/Black/A Negro/Other colorful metaphors I will leave off because kids may read this stuff, it is automatically assumed that I would be voting for Mr. Obama. Well, if it makes you feel better, I am going to be a peaceful observer and see what happens. Yeah, I am sure that a lot of people of color (which always cracks me up....Caucasians/Whites/The blue eyed Devil...u notice that they just don't have good insults like persons in my position do they?), particularly the older generation, will be ticked off because of the struggle for African Americans to vote back in the day. I do appreciate it, trust me on this one. But here's the thing (and this has ticked off my mamma several times during some spirited conversations)...a lot of black folks are voting for Mr. Obama because he, is well, black (and don't get into the 1/2 white thing...if he went to Mississippi in the backwoods, it would be "Mississippi Burning" all over again. Get over it....y'all lost the war). While I understand this to a point, especially with what all the previous generations have gone through and seeing one of their own (well, 1/2 of one of their own anyway) PROBABLY getting the job (let's face it, Mr. McCain, whose party has been jumping Obama for his lack of experience, etc., hasn't shown the best decision making themselves....Palin? Come on...she's a big time "MILF", but about as smart as Prince going into a "Big & Tall" store looking for jeans). But whomever gets the job has a cluster(expeletive) to clean up...and unless his name is Jesus Christ, the first couple of years is going to be rough. So if Barack wins, give the dude a chance, and put the long range rifles away...it's nearly 2009....wake up...we all bleed red.

The other thought before I bounce out of here is about my little boy Noah. He is the cutest bloody thing...nearly 3, and has Downs Syndrome. Now this isn't a pity party or whatever, all about the struggle of surgeries, developmental delays, and all that other jazz. There are people who would cut off your man jewels for bread and jelly cuz they can't feed their kids. Those are problems. But as that 2008 has sucked moose johnson for me and my family, the one thing that keeps me from robbing drug dealers of their stash and cash is that kid. No matter what, whether it would being in the hospital, or not feeling well, or learning to walk only a couple of months ago, he's always smiling. And it makes me think...I went from having great credit and a good job to a rat not lending me a crumb, not making a dime in 2008 outside of checking tests for the state of Indiana at $10 an hour....and at times, realizing how trivial the problems we blow up to mountains can be. A 2 year old about 34 inches tall with a big ol' scar, possibly doomed to pushing carts out of a parking lot for a living for all I know is still smiling. Shit, what do I have to complain about, right?

So, if you are having a bad day, a bad year, or a bad bowel movement, remember, you could be the other mofo who is going for that bread and jelly.

Peace and chicken gizzards.