Saturday, December 1, 2012

Strip Clubs: A Necessary Evil



How much is it worth to you to fucking relax? How much is it worth to the average man to spend money on a woman and have her work to entertain YOU? How much would you spend to have a woman pretend to be happy to see you every time you walk through the door? What's it worth to have a real live ass in a real live thong clapping in your face at your command?

That's what it means to go to a strip club. All the scorn and derision towards strippers and strip club patrons is misplaced. It's actually a beautiful, symbiotic relationship.....

Those broads need and want money and these dudes that regularly go are usually in a home routine that consists of half listening to their significant others, ignoring their kids, and basically dropping off a paycheck every two weeks from a job they fucking hate. The wife, after a hard day at work, is not in the mood to entertain this cat. She's still busy at home. When it's bedtime, she's putting on some flannels, some giant fucking drawers, and a set of rollers. Ain't no clappin' happenin', Captain. 

That's where the strip club comes in. For a fairly reasonable amount of money both parties walk away happy. Even if you don't patronize them, think about the entertainment aspect and stop being so hard on the cats that do and the women that work there. Both are necessary.


Monday, September 24, 2012

Don't feed me shit, and tell me it's sugar




You're gainfully employed in a horrible economy, but it's in a job you despise, one that steals your soul and make you wish you were dead. Your in-laws will watch your kids anytime you want, for as long as you need without complaint, but they feed your kids bacon and candy non-stop. You are as physically and mentally fit as you've ever been in your life, but tomorrow you're being shipped to Afghanistan to chase boogeymen. This is where I am in my life. I picked up a girl with big titties, but she's wearing a dirty bra. Not literally, follow me for a sec.

It's the mixed blessing thing. I've got a beautiful girlfriend, but I only see her on weekends. I've got a stable job, but I feel like jumping off a damn roof every time I have to walk in the office. I'm healthy and sharp, and I'm wasting in Baltimore, the capitol of murderland/drugville USA. I feel like I'm incapable of being happy, but that's not the case. I'm incapable of faking it. I have been and can be happy, but I know better than to settle for it, like this shit is as good as it gets. Yeah, everybody has problems, but I know there's a possibility, even with all the other problems in the world, real, attainable happiness is within my reach. Now, if I can only get that bra to landromat...

Saturday, August 11, 2012

The New Fall LineUp


I'm trying to submit some ideas for a new hit show for this fall's TV season. I've noticed a winning pattern that might just get me over conceptually. Let me know what you think...

Sucking Cox
Leonard Cox is a supervisor at a vacuum factory. One day in a freak machine accident, the vacuum parts get embedded into Leonard's DNA. He becomes a living breathing dustbuster, helping police clean up crime scenes as well as gathering evidence.

Scratching Balls
It's party time in Miami and no one knows that better than Jacob Balls, the mixmaster extraordinare. He's the hottest DJ in the hottest club on South Beach. DJ Balls weaves his magic and affects the lives of the partygoers. Watch as a different all star cast drops by the club every week and watch the love, laughter and drama unfold.

Eating Coochie
He doesn't wait until the Fourth of July at Coney Island. Alphonse "Coochie" Curtis is in an eating contest every day of his life. He has a rare genetic disorder that makes him have to consume 5000 calories a day just to sustain his 130 lbs body. How does Coochie find love and happiness in between bites? Tune in to find out.

Wondering Aloud
Wouldn't it be great to ponder life's big mysteries and get paid for it? That how Ahmir Aloud spends his time. This philosopher is responsible for keeping his clients grounded in realities of everyday life. His clients? The rich and famous beautiful people of Beverly Hills. Aloud and his sidekick Patience Virtue go from one zany situation to the next, leaving happier, deeper people in their wake.

Wasting Tyme
Eric Tyme runs New York City's sanitation division on Staten Island. He keeps the men and women who pilot his garbage scows in ship-shape, all the while wisecracking his way through the days of mind-numbing boredom.

Frying Bologna
Life throws all of us curveballs, and Constantine Bologna is no different. After 30 years of manning the switch on the electric chair at San Quentin, Connie is downsized. She pursues her lifelong dream of owning a diner and the oddballs come out of the woodwork. Watch as Connie cooks up the laughs while serving up the fun on Frying Bologna.

Thursday, June 7, 2012

Coming Full Circle




Everything happens for a reason. I believe in that like I believe in coco butter on ashy elbows/knees. That shit is real, especially in my life. In a life where it always takes me a couple of times to learn the lesson I'm supposed to, this is important. I'm a little slow witted, but when something is happening to me that I'm seen before, I'm pretty good at recognizing how I can make it different the next time.

I say all that to I'm in a relationship again and its going so well its seems organic. Its as if all my previous relationships and or encounters were put in place for this exact moment in my life. I think people underestimate the role excitement plays in a relationship, at least early on. If you can't get excited about someone you'll ostensibly be spending the rest of your life with, why bother? Life is fuckin' hard enough without getting shackled in a long, long, long term commitment with a muthafuckin' "so-so".

Though I'm not a romantic or a flitty man-girl, I do believe there is something to be said for fuckin' goosebumps and butterflies when it comes to new relationships and new stages in relationships. Honestly, if it ain't there, why bother? Why the fuck do you wanna call somebody and have them think, "Fuck. Her/him again?" Or knock on the door and be greeted by someone with a blank ass expression? That shit is for the poultry.

Life is too short to be settling for a life without passion.

Thursday, April 19, 2012

Flake Ass People




Excuse me for going off on this little tangent. It actually felt like it was gonna be a soapbox rant but I'm gonna keep this shit brief

How many times have you given someone the benefit of the doubt when they don't come through? Or don't do the things they say they're going to do?

"Yeah, I'll meet you at the spot around 9!" "Dude, I'll watch your dog while you're away." "I'm gonna drop it in the mail after work."

When you count on someone to do shit and on a consistent basis they don't do it, when do you separate the person from the deed? I contend that you don't.

A muthafucka who does flaky shit is a flake. It's time to call a spade a spade.

We are surrounded by flakes that we explain away by saying shit like "That's just Johnny". Maaannn, fuck Johnny! Grow up, Johnny! Do what the fuck you said you'd do, Johnny!

"Yeah, I got your message, but shit kept coming up. Sorry."

I'm ready to purge all flakes before the new year. If we're cool, you'll return that call in a timely fashion. If we're cool, you'll show up when you say you're gonna show up. If we're cool, you'll fuckin' follow through. I'm not asking you to do any more than WHAT YOU SAY YOU'LL DO. If you're not gonna do it, don't fuckin' say it!

"I just flaked out". Word... I'm sure there are many areas in which you're downright dependable and efficient. I'm sure those are the things that benefit your own flaky ass, which means your overall flakiness is an act of aggression.

So, I contend it's time to stop separating the flaky act from the person and call it like it is. Fuck the flakes.

Saturday, April 7, 2012

More Than Sex....


I've always been able to perform and last, you know... Put a good show on and hold out and extend that thang before reaching the climactic ending of yet another sexual episode. It was almost like there was an old school radio announcer narrating my sexcapades like I was fucking on the "Master Of Mystery Radio Hour".

"How long will Black last this time?" "Is this his greatest fourth quarter performance yet?" "Will she cry mercy again under his heavy humping?" "Is he impressed - will there be a return date?" "Did she reach climax, or was he just out to get one for himself?"

"We'll know the answer to these questions and many more at the end of another episode of...

"The Phantom Climax!!!" (cue dramatic/cheesy radio thrill music)


I used to be able to separate sex from making love. It was no thing to have sex and put on an academy-award winning, in the bed, floor shaking performance for a sister. Problem is, now that I'm 30 I can't seem to find the motivation to let one go all willy nilly without great reason. I have lost the ability to separate my emotions from sex because I believe in soul ties.

It's like I'm hating sex based on all of the meaningless sex I've had. Don't get me wrong I enjoy the act, but spiritually I just don't feel like it's my time to release that monster onto the world unless she's the one.

I don't understand.


And I want to let one go so badly right now. But whatever it is...

Whatever it is... Whatever it is...

It won't let me.

What in the hell is wrong with me? This isn't normal behavior, is it?

Wednesday, March 7, 2012

Conversation With A Stripper



I know what you're thinking. I don't respect you. You're right, absolutely dead on. But it's not because of what you do for a living. It's really your demeanor. 

You are attractive in an overdone, overexposed sort of way. I love naked women. I love when women take off their clothes for me. I just hate the transparency, ya know?

You'll take off them shits for anybody. And most of the time, you'll do anything else they ask for money. I know it's hypocritical, but don't look up at me. Concentrate on what you're doing!

It's not even the animal skin prints you favor, the outrageous hairdos, or the lack of self-awareness that you are not envied. I'd just like you to tell the truth.

You are not whoring yourself through school. This is it. You are whoring yourself through life. I told you to concentrate! Stop looking at me. You can listen to me and not look at me. Look at what you're doing.

The only thing you study is crotches and pockets. You probably learned to eat pussy. That's what the job will do to ya. I'm sure you hate what you're doing right now, but you had to do it. You're addicted to money. 

Everyday you'll drag your little suitcase on wheels filled with your g-strings into that spot and make your ass clap for the masses. And you'll pick up the sweaty money they throw on stage, leaving with fistfuls of cash kept from wives and girlfriends, enduring touches that violate from rough hands. Because nothing matters but the money.

Don't move! Don't you pull away! I paid for this, so you stay right there....

Ahhhhrrrrrrrrggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhh.................whew! 

Damn, you're good. You said you were worth it!

Sorry about the sermonizing, I hope you understand. I love to hear myself talk. 

We agreed to $50, right?