MORE ANGLE TO THE DANGLE

A Few Day Ago

A few ago I “walked in” on an interestin’ conversation, folks from diver backgrounds and beliefs were jaw jaw’ing on over an article they jus’ read. I’ve discovered that one of the best ways to get people talkin’ is to show them some numbers. Make assertion, back it up wit statistics (real or bogus) and throw out there for the public to feast on. Scientists and researchers always do that, don’t they? Always throwin’ up new shit, always tryna justify or debunk stuffs.

In a new report, soon to be published in the next edition of the Journal of Science, researchers from the University of Research found that you’re actually readin’ this bullshit right now. Isn’t it amazin’ how true that is? They also found that your ass jus cracked a smile right now, true or false? Guess what? the research also said that the possibility of you sharin’ this dumb ass blog wit’ ten of your friends is very high. Amazin’, right?

Back to that interestin’ convo I told y’all I walked in on, here are some of the reactions to the claims the article made.

Steve
Only 3-5 times a week!

Casey
This thing isn’t going to jerk itself.

Todd
I’ve gotta hand it to men’s health, this article makes my head explode!

Brian
Just finished!

Leonardo
Be sure to switch hands

Cyrus
Well, I haven’t been wasting my life then!

Pete
Good thing, am a devoted practitioner!

Jay
My girlfriend JILL is already proud of me.

Abid
Dude that is the best lame excuse I have ever heard!

Usman
Bad habit.

Leticia
Lmao! Men!

Nicholas
Hahaha great reason to keep up the effort!

David
Why is it always some dude in a terry cloth robe sitting on the toilet? Very stereotypical! I know you can do better than that.

Marcel
Are you guys serious with that photo? Lmao!

Leo
Cheers to my health!

Joel Witte
Glad I’m doing something right.

John Vasquez
As if I need another reason.

Lee Nicol
I’m pulling the head off it right now. Great advice

Jeffrey Dowell
Lol! Did I just read that right?

June 26
Wednesday
03:17

Here’s what got all these people talkin’

“Why ALL men should dash dash: it makes you harder. As you age, you naturally lose muscle tone…even down there. Regular sex or dash dash works out your pelvic floor muscles to prevent erectile dysfunction and incontinence. “It keeps the angle of your dangle perky,” says Brame. Aim to (ahem) arrive 3 to 5 times a week for rock-solid results.”

Gotta love the phrase “angle to your dangle”, it cracked me the fuck up!

Outro

Ever heard of NMD? It is usually celebrated in the month of May. The first one was back in ’95. Carol Queen, an organizer of the NMD said, “we gave our head a shake and said it’s about time we fought backs”

And nah, I was even tryna get into the rightness or otherwise of the debate, some pastor recently caught flaks for daring to throw his two cents in on the issue but for me, I got no problem wit it as long as a nigga’s using it as a means toward achievin’ sexual self control, or as a part of healthy self-exploration. Where I might have bones to pick wit this situation is when it becomes an addiction, which am fairly sure it could be…not that I know firsthand.

What’s the sexual stimulation of the genital organs (of yourself or another) to the point of orgasm called again?

Oh, so some of you wanna pretend like you don’t its masturbation, huh?

Ladies and gentlemen, now that you know what this whole gig is all about, are you goin’ to jack off today?

NMD is National Masturbation Day, by the way.

MORE ANGLE TO THE DANGLE

A Few Day Ago

A few ago I “walked in” on an interestin’ conversation, folks from diver backgrounds and beliefs were jaw jaw’ing on over an article they jus’ read. I’ve discovered that one of the best ways to get people talkin’ is to show them some numbers. Make assertion, back it up wit statistics (real or bogus) and throw out there for the public to feast on. Scientists and researchers always do that, don’t they? Always throwin’ up new shit, always tryna justify or debunk stuffs.

In a new report, soon to be published in the next edition of the Journal of Science, researchers from the University of Research found that you’re actually readin’ this bullshit right now. Isn’t it amazin’ how true that is? They also found that your ass jus cracked a smile right now, true or false? Guess what? the research also said that the possibility of you sharin’ this dumb ass blog wit’ ten of your friends is very high. Amazin’, right?

Back to that interestin’ convo I told y’all I walked in on, here are some of the reactions to the claims the article made.

Steve

Only 3-5 times a week!

Casey

This thing isn’t going to jerk itself.

Todd

I’ve gotta hand it to men’s health, this article makes my head explode!

Brian

Just finished!

Leonardo

Be sure to switch hands

Cyrus

Well, I haven’t been wasting my life then!

Pete

Good thing, am a devoted practitioner!

Jay

My girlfriend JILL is already proud of me.

Abid

Dude that is the best lame excuse I have ever heard!

Usman

Bad habit

Leticia

Lmao! Men!

Nicholas

Hahaha great reason to keep up the effort!

David

Why is it always some dude in a terry cloth robe sitting on the toilet? Very stereotypical! I know you can do better than that.

Marcel

Are you guys serious with that photo? Lmao!

Leo

Cheers to my health!

Joel Witte

Glad I’m doing something right

John Vasquez

As if I need another reason

Lee Nicol

I’m pulling the head off it right now. Great advice

Jeffrey Dowell

Lol! Did I just read that right?

June 26

Wednesday

03:17

Here’s what got all these people talkin’

“Why ALL men should dash dash: it makes you harder. As you age, you naturally lose muscle tone…even down there. Regular sex or dash dash works out your pelvic floor muscles to prevent erectile dysfunction and incontinence. “It keeps the angle of your dangle perky,” says Brame. Aim to (ahem) arrive 3 to 5 times a week for rock-solid results.”

Gotta love the phrase “angle to your dangle”, it cracked me the fuck up!

Outro

Ever heard of NMD? It is usually celebrated in the month of May. The first one was back in ’95. Carol Queen, an organizer of the NMD said, “we gave our head a shake and said it’s about time we fought backs”

And nah, I was even tryna get into the rightness or otherwise of the debate, some pastor recently caught flaks for daring to throw his two cents in on the issue but for me, I got no problem wit it as long as a nigga’s using it as a means toward achievin’ sexual self control, or as a part of healthy self-exploration. Where I might have bones to pick wit this situation is when it becomes an addiction, which am fairly sure it could be…not that I know firsthand.

What’s the sexual stimulation of the genital organs (of yourself or another) to the point of orgasm called again?

Oh, so some of you wanna pretend like you don’t its masturbation, huh?

Ladies and gentlemen, now that you know what this whole gig is all about, are you goin’ to jack off today?

NMD is National Masturbation Day, by the way

GLITCH

June 20

Wednesday

If you had the benefit of kickin’ it them grey heads (grannies and ‘em) while growin’ up and you were the type that was willin’ to learn, then you would have copped your ass some time tested wisdom and, wait for it, a few superstitions!

Oh wait, I think the word “superstition” might be a tad too disrespectful to my granny if she heard me and I won’t be surprised at all if she tried to “hi-five” my sweet face. So before somebody snitches on me, am gon scratch out the word “superstition” and toss in “belief” in its place. Sounds better, don’t it?

As I grew older I discovered that old folks mostly beat lil doggies like me over the head wit’ these superstitions to teach and keep us on the straight and narrow.

Wit time, I’ve chucked the deuces to most of those beliefs/superstitions but, a few of ‘em still hang tightly to me like a leech. One of those I haven’t been able to shake is the meanin’ one reads into the bumpin’ of foot on a stone. If you bump the left foot, it’s a bad omen but if it’s the right, it’s a sign that things will go your way.

Barclays Bank

13:02

A few steps away from the ATM machine, I bumped my left foot against somethin’ and almost fell! I let fly a couple of expletives before examinin’ my very expensive shoe (umm, am lyin). After I made certain that my shoe came out of the collision in good shape, I made the sign of the cross. When I raised my head, l discovered that some chick who had jus finished usin’ the ATM was lookin’ at me wit a bemused look on her face.

Fuck it, I mean, what has the world come to, there I was in great emotional pain and this girl couldn’t even offer me a boob to cry on ( umm, I meant shoulder), is that too much to ask for, huh? Well, I guess it was ‘cause shawtie jus sashayed right by me wit her stupid ass shakin’ like they got a bad case of cold.

For a moment, I contemplated turnin’ back cause for the life of me, how can a nigga bump his foot on a marbled floor and at the same time have a hot chick leave him in pain, huh?…it’s a bad omen!

For a sec there I had visions of the old folks laughin’ in my face for darin’ to make light of their belief. Fuck it, I told myself, am already here and I’ma get my money outta that machine before I go back to the office, bad omen or not.

13:06

For that hour of the day, it was strange that I was the only one at the ATM, well, apart from the private security guard who was standin’ some two meters away and lookin’ out into the street.

It was lunch O’clock and as hungry as I was, it would be a disaster to have me wait in line to take out a lil some’ from that cash dispenser. Huh, why would it be a disaster? C’mon, guys, stop actin’ like y’all won’t crack up for days if you heard that a nigga passed out from hunger while waitin’ on the queue.

13:09

I offered my card to the machine, it swallowed it, and I punched in the amount I wanted wit’ my pin code and waited for my cash. What, you wanna know how much I wanted? Ok, let’s jus say it was in the neighborhood of what Diddy would splurge wit on a Friday night on the town. Yep, I live like that sometime. Lol!

What happened next popped my eyes out of the sockets and fuckin’ shifted my jaws. I was literally paralyzed watchin’ the ATM machine cough out notes after notes after notes after note of crisp bills! It felt like a dream and I was the uninvited third wheel who tagged along for the ride as I stood there. This is not fuckin’ real, I kept whisperin’ to myself.

After what seemed like forever, I managed to break free from the inertial that held me in its grip (for what turned to be less than a minute,) and then I looked around to be sure there were no witness to this lil miracle. I was afraid the security guy would be suspicious of what was goin’ down but alas, the dude was too busy getting’ fresh wit the young lady sellin’ fruits nearby. I gathered every last note the machine coughed out, I packed everythin’ into my backpack and got outta there like a house on fire!

What, how much did the machine give me? Well, all am gon say is, it had alotta zeros in it.

And what happened to me bein’ on the verge of death from hunger? Please, as if you would get hungry after winnin’ a lotto!

August 1, 2009

Saturday

One fine Saturday, three years ago, Ronald Page, a 55 year old man of Detroit stepped up to an ATM machine at Greektown Casino wit’ a plan to take out a few dollars, not like he’s got much in the account anyways (he only maintained a derisory balance of $100 between ‘08 and ‘09) but jus like what happened to me on Wednesday, the machine gave him a whoopin’ $312,000!

Mr. Page couldn’t believe his luck at first, so he decided to test it; he went back to the machine and guess what happened? He was allowed to take out $51,727!

August 18, 2009

Tuesday

By the time the bank discovered how generous their ATM had been, Mr. Page had become a millionaire overnight (richer to the tune of 1.5 million big ones!) Damn, that shit got me wishin’ “my” ATM was generous to me in dollars too. Yeah, I know am greedy like that.

Anyways, on August 18, payback time beat a path down to Ronald page’s door and y’all know how bitchy that can be, don’t ya?

A Few Days Ago

Earlier this week, Mr. Page found out that not only is he goin’ to do time for the “crime”, the judge in charge of the case handed his ass a 15 months jail time plus payin’ back the money to the last cent.

June 21

Thursday

01:09

What happened to my lil windfall from the ATM? Well, after boltin’ away from the ATM, my phone rang and interrupted my dream! Lmao! Oh, y’all were already makin’ plans on collectin’?

Outro

The sad thing about this whole ball of wax is that Mr. Page blew the whole manna on gamblin’! How stupid can an old man be, huh? I mean, he coulda put the lucre away in some kinda business, pro’ly doubled it, and by the time the law came callin’, he woulda been able to return the money, right? Maybe, jus maybe, the Judge woulda seen it the way I see it and thought to himself like ‘’technically, this cat didn’t steal the money the hiccup in the system gave him a gift and a few men would reject such heavenly manna.” Perhaps, the honorable Judge woulda jus sent him on his way wit nothin’ more than a slap on the wrist.

GLITCH

June 20

Wednesday

If you had the benefit of kickin’ it them grey heads (grannies and ‘em) while growin’ up and you were the type that was willin’ to learn, then you would have copped your ass some time tested wisdom and, wait for it, a few superstitions!

Oh wait, I think the word “superstition” might be a tad too disrespectful to my granny if she heard me and I won’t be surprised at all if she tried to “hi-five” my sweet face. So before somebody snitches on me, am gon scratch out the word “superstition” and toss in “belief” in its place. Sounds better, don’t it?

As I grew older I discovered that old folks mostly beat lil doggies like me over the head wit’ these superstitions to teach and keep us on the straight and narrow.

Wit time, I’ve chucked the deuces to most of those beliefs/superstitions but, a few of ‘em still hang tightly to me like a leech. One of those I haven’t been able to shake is the meanin’ one reads into the bumpin’ of foot on a stone. If you bump the left foot, it’s a bad omen but if it’s the right, it’s a sign that things will go your way.

Barclays Bank

13:02

A few steps away from the ATM machine, I bumped my left foot against somethin’ and almost fell! I let fly a couple of expletives before examinin’ my very expensive shoe (umm, am lyin). After I made certain that my shoe came out of the collision in good shape, I made the sign of the cross. When I raised my head, l discovered that some chick who had jus finished usin’ the ATM was lookin’ at me wit a bemused look on her face.

Fuck it, I mean, what has the world come to, there I was in great emotional pain and this girl couldn’t even offer me a boob to cry on ( umm, I meant shoulder), is that too much to ask for, huh? Well, I guess it was ‘cause shawtie jus sashayed right by me wit her stupid ass shakin’ like they got a bad case of cold.

For a moment, I contemplated turnin’ back cause for the life of me, how can a nigga bump his foot on a marbled floor and at the same time have a hot chick leave him in pain, huh?…it’s a bad omen!

For a sec there I had visions of the old folks laughin’ in my face for darin’ to make light of their belief. Fuck it, I told myself, am already here and I’ma get my money outta that machine before I go back to the office, bad omen or not.

13:06

For that hour of the day, it was strange that I was the only one at the ATM, well, apart from the private security guard who was standin’ some two meters away and lookin’ out into the street.

It was lunch O’clock and as hungry as I was, it would be a disaster to have me wait in line to take out a lil some’ from that cash dispenser. Huh, why would it be a disaster? C’mon, guys, stop actin’ like y’all won’t crack up for days if you heard that a nigga passed out from hunger while waitin’ on the queue.

13:09

I offered my card to the machine, it swallowed it, and I punched in the amount I wanted wit’ my pin code and waited for my cash. What, you wanna know how much I wanted? Ok, let’s jus say it was in the neighborhood of what Diddy would splurge wit on a Friday night on the town. Yep, I live like that sometime. Lol!

What happened next popped my eyes out of the sockets and fuckin’ shifted my jaws. I was literally paralyzed watchin’ the ATM machine cough out notes after notes after notes after note of crisp bills! It felt like a dream and I was the uninvited third wheel who tagged along for the ride as I stood there. This is not fuckin’ real, I kept whisperin’ to myself.

After what seemed like forever, I managed to break free from the inertial that held me in its grip (for what turned to be less than a minute,) and then I looked around to be sure there were no witness to this lil miracle. I was afraid the security guy would be suspicious of what was goin’ down but alas, the dude was too busy getting’ fresh wit the young lady sellin’ fruits nearby. I gathered every last note the machine coughed out, I packed everythin’ into my backpack and got outta there like a house on fire!

What, how much did the machine give me? Well, all am gon say is, it had alotta zeros in it.

And what happened to me bein’ on the verge of death from hunger? Please, as if you would get hungry after winnin’ a lotto!

August 1, 2009

Saturday

One fine Saturday, three years ago, Ronald Page, a 55 year old man of Detroit stepped up to an ATM machine at Greektown Casino wit’ a plan to take out a few dollars, not like he’s got much in the account anyways (he only maintained a derisory balance of $100 between ‘08 and ‘09) but jus like what happened to me on Wednesday, the machine gave him a whoopin’ $312,000!

Mr. Page couldn’t believe his luck at first, so he decided to test it; he went back to the machine and guess what happened? He was allowed to take out $51,727!

August 18, 2009

Tuesday

By the time the bank discovered how generous their ATM had been, Mr. Page had become a millionaire overnight (richer to the tune of 1.5 million big ones!) Damn, that shit got me wishin’ “my” ATM was generous to me in dollars too. Yeah, I know am greedy like that.

Anyways, on August 18, payback time beat a path down to Ronald page’s door and y’all know how bitchy that can be, don’t ya?

A Few Days Ago

Earlier this week, Mr. Page found out that not only is he goin’ to do time for the “crime”, the judge in charge of the case handed his ass a 15 months jail time plus payin’ back the money to the last cent.

June 21

Thursday

01:09

What happened to my lil windfall from the ATM? Well, after boltin’ away from the ATM, my phone rang and interrupted my dream! Lmao! Oh, y’all were already makin’ plans on collectin’?

Outro

The sad thing about this whole ball of wax is that Mr. Page blew the whole manna on gamblin’! How stupid can an old man be, huh? I mean, he coulda put the lucre away in some kinda business, pro’ly doubled it, and by the time the law came callin’, he woulda been able to return the money, right? Maybe, jus maybe, the Judge woulda seen it the way I see it and thought to himself like ‘’technically, this cat didn’t steal the money the hiccup in the system gave him a gift and a few men would reject such heavenly manna.” Perhaps, the honorable Judge woulda jus sent him on his way wit nothin’ more than a slap on the wrist.

DANCE WIT' THEM FATHERS

Sunday

17 June

12:20

About thirty men of various shapes and sizes were up front gettin’ their jig on and lovin’ it. I looked around at the happy faces in the buildin’ and it kinda made me happy that everybody was havin’ a good time watchin’ these grown ass men throw caution to the wind.

I was somewhere in a front row seat crackin’ up. I was lovin’ every moment these men spent up there makin’ a fool of themselves (in a good way) and to top it all off, I was watchin’ it all go down ringside style. It kinda felt like havin’ an untrammeled sight of Iron Mike Tyson kick butt in his heydays.

30 Minutes Earlier

It was a cool day, about 18 degrees on the thermometer; it was jus like the weather people on France24 predicated the night before. I was somewhere in the back, sittin’ wit’ my legs crossed and half lost in thought, floatin’ between  slightly dirty thoughts and the good songs bein’ belted by the choir.

I was enjoyin’ my lil’ head-trip but that was until the pastor grabbed the mic from the cat leadin’ the praise and worship and put a dent in my reverie. Huh, how did he do that? He said all the men in the buildin’ should get off of their seats wherever they were and go take the front seats. It’s a well known fact 90% of the average church goin’ men avoid sittin’ in front like they gon’ contract some kinda incurable diseases out there.

Soon as the announcement came through, I’d made up my mind I wasn’t goin’ to move. Nothin’ those pesky ushers gon say would make me budge, matter of fact, it’d take a thousand strong men to unglue me from where I was perched. My resolve was strengthen when I looked around and found that all the other men were lookin’ around too, jus like me. It was a collective resolve!

Well, what I’d thought to be a collective resolve turned out to be nothin’ more than a mere hesitation, I was fuckin’ disappointed when one by one, these grown ass men grudgingly carry their bibles and made their ways to the front. I tried, men.

I stood my ground until I began to stick out like a sore thumb. I mean, what’s a brotha to do, huh? It was beginnin’ to look like I was lettin’ the devil use me. I reluctantly took my pocket bible (and nope, it wasn’t a New Testament only kinda bible like y’all are thinkin’, the whole enchilada was there) and got my ass to a front seat somewhere.

11:52

As I was beginnin’ to get used to sittin’ in front, the pastor threw another loop, he wanted all the fathers (single fathers or not) to get their asses off their seats and come to the stage! I looked around and I could swear some of these niggas were mutterin’ fuck fuck under their breaths.

The women, the wives and the young ladies were enjoyin’ the “humiliation” of their men. They were hysterical wit laughter. Ah ha! I allowed myself a wide smile but my smile froze when the pastor held up his hand, signallin’ the congregation to calm down.  I knew that nigga was about to throw another surprise and guess what? He did! He said those who were forty should come join the fathers. I didn’t qualify for any of the above. I sat tight and heaved a sigh of relieve.

11:58

As soon as the men assembled out-front, the pastor told them to fan out and give themselves elbow room; they were about to get their two-steps on whether they know how to dance or not. The congregation erupted wit laughter. I was thinkin’ to myself, if church were this fun and not jus about the fire and brimstone and doomsday rhetoric alotta pastors throw around, a lot more folks would look forward to gettin’ their church on but that’s not possible, is it? Of course, it isn’t.

Anyways, the band struck an up tempo tune hopin’ to whip these fathers up into some kind of frenzy but alas, the best they got out of these men were reluctant zombie-like shuffle. The women loved it all the same.

30 Minutes Later

Niggas began to warm up to the music and little by little, cats began to get rid of their inhibition. As their am-too-grown-for-this-kinda-gig attitude melted away, some of ‘em took off their oversized suits, tied it around their michellin man’s waist and got low wit! Niggas were doin’ all kinda of out of date 80s shuffle, throwin’ their hands in the air like John Travolta did in Saturday Night Fever. The church was in frenzy! I was afraid more than a few of these unfit men might cop themselves a heart attack.

Outro

What! Out of nowhere, as if they planned it, wives began to appear on stage, shakin’ their asses and shit. From my ringside seat, all I could see for the next ten minutes were different typa asses and my thought began to get dirty. Good lawd!

Correct me if am wrong, but why is it that the ladies always want to take shine off the men once they see a nigga get a lil’ attention in the spot light without them, huh? It’s Fathers’ Day for Pete’s sake but why did these ladies have to go and bum rush stage!

This One’s For The Fathers Who Are Mothers…

DANCE WIT' THEM FATHERS

Sunday

17 June

12:20

About thirty men of various shapes and sizes were up front gettin’ their jig on and lovin’ it. I looked around at the happy faces in the buildin’ and it kinda made me happy that everybody was havin’ a good time watchin’ these grown ass men throw caution to the wind.

I was somewhere in a front row seat crackin’ up. I was lovin’ every moment these men spent up there makin’ a fool of themselves (in a good way) and to top it all off, I was watchin’ it all go down ringside style. It kinda felt like havin’ an untrammeled sight of Iron Mike Tyson kick butt in his heydays.

30 Minutes Earlier

It was a cool day, about 18 degrees on the thermometer; it was jus like the weather people on France24 predicated the night before. I was somewhere in the back, sittin’ wit’ my legs crossed and half lost in thought, floatin’ between  slightly dirty thoughts and the good songs bein’ belted by the choir.

I was enjoyin’ my lil’ head-trip but that was until the pastor grabbed the mic from the cat leadin’ the praise and worship and put a dent in my reverie. Huh, how did he do that? He said all the men in the buildin’ should get off of their seats wherever they were and go take the front seats. It’s a well known fact 90% of the average church goin’ men avoid sittin’ in front like they gon’ contract some kinda incurable diseases out there.

Soon as the announcement came through, I’d made up my mind I wasn’t goin’ to move. Nothin’ those pesky ushers gon say would make me budge, matter of fact, it’d take a thousand strong men to unglue me from where I was perched. My resolve was strengthen when I looked around and found that all the other men were lookin’ around too, jus like me. It was a collective resolve!

Well, what I’d thought to be a collective resolve turned out to be nothin’ more than a mere hesitation, I was fuckin’ disappointed when one by one, these grown ass men grudgingly carry their bibles and made their ways to the front. I tried, men.

I stood my ground until I began to stick out like a sore thumb. I mean, what’s a brotha to do, huh? It was beginnin’ to look like I was lettin’ the devil use me. I reluctantly took my pocket bible (and nope, it wasn’t a New Testament only kinda bible like y’all are thinkin’, the whole enchilada was there) and got my ass to a front seat somewhere.

11:52

As I was beginnin’ to get used to sittin’ in front, the pastor threw another loop, he wanted all the fathers (single fathers or not) to get their asses off their seats and come to the stage! I looked around and I could swear some of these niggas were mutterin’ fuck fuck under their breaths.

The women, the wives and the young ladies were enjoyin’ the “humiliation” of their men. They were hysterical wit laughter. Ah ha! I allowed myself a wide smile but my smile froze when the pastor held up his hand, signallin’ the congregation to calm down.  I knew that nigga was about to throw another surprise and guess what? He did! He said those who were forty should come join the fathers. I didn’t qualify for any of the above. I sat tight and heaved a sigh of relieve.

11:58

As soon as the men assembled out-front, the pastor told them to fan out and give themselves elbow room; they were about to get their two-steps on whether they know how to dance or not. The congregation erupted wit laughter. I was thinkin’ to myself, if church were this fun and not jus about the fire and brimstone and doomsday rhetoric alotta pastors throw around, a lot more folks would look forward to gettin’ their church on but that’s not possible, is it? Of course, it isn’t.

Anyways, the band struck an up tempo tune hopin’ to whip these fathers up into some kind of frenzy but alas, the best they got out of these men were reluctant zombie-like shuffle. The women loved it all the same.

30 Minutes Later

Niggas began to warm up to the music and little by little, cats began to get rid of their inhibition. As their am-too-grown-for-this-kinda-gig attitude melted away, some of ‘em took off their oversized suits, tied it around their michellin man’s waist and got low wit! Niggas were doin’ all kinda of out of date 80s shuffle, throwin’ their hands in the air like John Travolta did in Saturday Night Fever. The church was in frenzy! I was afraid more than a few of these unfit men might cop themselves a heart attack.

Outro

What! Out of nowhere, as if they planned it, wives began to appear on stage, shakin’ their asses and shit. From my ringside seat, all I could see for the next ten minutes were different typa asses and my thought began to get dirty. Good lawd!

Correct me if am wrong, but why is it that the ladies always want to take shine off the men once they see a nigga get a lil’ attention in the spot light without them, huh? It’s Fathers’ Day for Pete’s sake but why did these ladies have to go and bum rush stage!

This One’s For The Fathers Who Are Mothers…

MONDAY MORNIN' RAW

One Fine Monday

Years Ago

There was once a youngin’ back in the eighties who never bullied a soul and he was never bullied. This lil boy was a midway introvert who never looked for trouble (well, not really), loved playin’ soccer (wit no boots on, of course) and, he loved sittin’ in the back of the class wit them bad boys (a hodgepodge of retards and midway geniuses) where he could meld in the crowd and subsequently hide away from the pryin’ eyes of those mutherfuckin’ teachers who were bent on humiliatin’ a good student like him by makin’ his ass answer questions that were too difficult for him. Lol!

I can identify wit this boy and am sure a lot of you can too, right?

No?

Oh! So y’all wanna pretend like y’all were lil Einstein growin’ up, huh?

If y’all don’t quit pretendin’ am gon’ be forced to call your mamas up and expose your asses for the lil retards y’all were growin’ up!

Ah ha, don’t feel so bad, am jus messin’ wit y’all. Lmao!

Back to the tale at hand, remember I said the lil boy never bullied no one, well I musta forgotten about one lil incident…a lil bullyin’ episode that back fired on his lil ass, big time!

16:00

That Monday afternoon so many years ago, our lil boy (the wanna-be bully) held his luck by the hand and led it jus a lil bit too far, he bullied a friend (well, not really a friend but some kid from around the way who was, up til that day, always a little afraid of him) jus a bit too much and guess who jus happened to turn up like a bad coin that day? Karma! Karma fuckin’ showed up to turn the table on our boy.

The bullee (the person gettin’ bullied…bullee? Please, there’s isn’t even any word like that) decided on that fateful day he couldn’t take the humiliation of bein’ stepped on no more, especially  ‘cause a lotta other kids were present that day, so he to called our lil boy out. The bullee came out fightin’ like a cornered rat. To cut a long story short, our boy (wanna-be bully) got his ass handed to him; he got whooped by his own belt (the lovely blue belt his pops had brought him from the good U. S of A).

Tuesday

5 June

02:12

If Mondays could talk, humans woulda been swimmin’ in all kinds of lawsuits by now. They woulda made all you Monday haters (I know there are gazillions of you out there walkin’ around wit chips on your mutherfuckin’ shoulders actin’ like you’re some kinda sweet fancy piece of shit) catch cases for stuffs like defamation of character, character assassination, discrimination and shit for givin’ ‘em such a bad rap/ rep.

Somethin’ tells me this Monday-phobia that homo sapiens wallow in so disgustingly might have some’ to do wit folks havin’ to head on back to their daily hustle (the jobs they pro’ly hate wit the same passion a shit cleaner has for his job) and the people they can’t stand but they gotta put up wit all week long…five fuckin’ days!

Soon as the chill pill of Sunday mornin’ starts wearin’ off and Sunday afternoon/evenin’ begins to get its foot in the door, a lot of folks start seein’ their bosses faces on their dinner plate, they start dreadin’ goin’ in for another five days (and sometime six) of dealin’ wit pressure of deadlines and hangin’ wit the same set of assholes called work mates and jus like that, all the sweet the cries of thank God it’s Friday two days earlier becomes a distant memory.

Jus take a few sec to imagine…if Monday was a man, who would he look like?

Am thinkin’, Danny Trejo of the Con Air/ Machete fame. A man wit a face so mean even his smile looks like a mutherfuckin’ frown. Lmao! Next time you wanna hate on Mondays, think twice.

Tuesday

5 June

10:35

Accordin’ to some researchers who got time on their hands, they said Monday mornings are so depressing that on average humans don’t crack a smile until 11:09! I wonder how they arrived at that conclusion though.

Anyways, what them researchers forgot to mention was that shit could get uglier than not jus crackin’ a smile much much earlier than 11:09.

Bus Station

10:33

I suddenly noticed men runnin’ toward a commotion a few meters away from where I was tryna get some’ done, I craned my neck and there they were, the source of the mornin’ excitement…two well built young bucks goin’ at each, no gloves, no head guard, no WWE fanciness, jus pure old fashioned bare knuckle fist fight!

From where I was standin’, I swear I could hear the sound of fists slammin’ against temples and guess what? Nobody stepped in to separate these fools; niggas jus made a circle around ‘em and enjoyed the fight.

I moved close and saw that these two bus station hustlers had blood drippin’ from their faces and tears streamin’ down from their eyes…I looked in their faces  and saw a silent plea in their eyes and eventhough they weren’t sayin’ it, mutherfuckers were beggin’ to be separated!

Huh, what did I do?

Well, I did what Clark Kent or Peter Parker woulda done if they were there; I got my super hero on (no spidey suit or red cape flowin’ between my knees though) and separate them boys. And no, I didn’t take no stray blows to the head. They were too exhausted to produce one!

Outro

Jus like those two Monday mornin’ fighters, the lil wanna-be bully looked for a way out of the fight but the other lil punk asses jus stood around and enjoyed my humiliation. Did I say my humiliation? Yeah, I did…that lil wanna-be bully was me!

Ever since that black Monday years ago, I never pulled a punch except I really need to and I never stand around to watch mutherfuckers fight themselves to exhaustion again…umm, well not really.

MONDAY MORNIN' RAW

One Fine Monday

Years Ago

There was once a youngin’ back in the eighties who never bullied a soul and he was never bullied. This lil boy was a midway introvert who never looked for trouble (well, not really), loved playin’ soccer (wit no boots on, of course) and, he loved sittin’ in the back of the class wit them bad boys (a hodgepodge of retards and midway geniuses) where he could meld in the crowd and subsequently hide away from the pryin’ eyes of those mutherfuckin’ teachers who were bent on humiliatin’ a good student like him by makin’ his ass answer questions that were too difficult for him. Lol!

I can identify wit this boy and am sure a lot of you can too, right?

No?

Oh! So y’all wanna pretend like y’all were lil Einstein growin’ up, huh?

If y’all don’t quit pretendin’ am gon’ be forced to call your mamas up and expose your asses for the lil retards y’all were growin’ up!

Ah ha, don’t feel so bad, am jus messin’ wit y’all. Lmao!

Back to the tale at hand, remember I said the lil boy never bullied no one, well I musta forgotten about one lil incident…a lil bullyin’ episode that back fired on his lil ass, big time!

16:00

That Monday afternoon so many years ago, our lil boy (the wanna-be bully) held his luck by the hand and led it jus a lil bit too far, he bullied a friend (well, not really a friend but some kid from around the way who was, up til that day, always a little afraid of him) jus a bit too much and guess who jus happened to turn up like a bad coin that day? Karma! Karma fuckin’ showed up to turn the table on our boy.

The bullee (the person gettin’ bullied…bullee? Please, there’s isn’t even any word like that) decided on that fateful day he couldn’t take the humiliation of bein’ stepped on no more, especially  ‘cause a lotta other kids were present that day, so he to called our lil boy out. The bullee came out fightin’ like a cornered rat. To cut a long story short, our boy (wanna-be bully) got his ass handed to him; he got whooped by his own belt (the lovely blue belt his pops had brought him from the good U. S of A).

Tuesday

5 June

02:12

If Mondays could talk, humans woulda been swimmin’ in all kinds of lawsuits by now. They woulda made all you Monday haters (I know there are gazillions of you out there walkin’ around wit chips on your mutherfuckin’ shoulders actin’ like you’re some kinda sweet fancy piece of shit) catch cases for stuffs like defamation of character, character assassination, discrimination and shit for givin’ ‘em such a bad rap/ rep.

Somethin’ tells me this Monday-phobia that homo sapiens wallow in so disgustingly might have some’ to do wit folks havin’ to head on back to their daily hustle (the jobs they pro’ly hate wit the same passion a shit cleaner has for his job) and the people they can’t stand but they gotta put up wit all week long…five fuckin’ days!

Soon as the chill pill of Sunday mornin’ starts wearin’ off and Sunday afternoon/evenin’ begins to get its foot in the door, a lot of folks start seein’ their bosses faces on their dinner plate, they start dreadin’ goin’ in for another five days (and sometime six) of dealin’ wit pressure of deadlines and hangin’ wit the same set of assholes called work mates and jus like that, all the sweet the cries of thank God it’s Friday two days earlier becomes a distant memory.

Jus take a few sec to imagine…if Monday was a man, who would he look like?

Am thinkin’, Danny Trejo of the Con Air/ Machete fame. A man wit a face so mean even his smile looks like a mutherfuckin’ frown. Lmao! Next time you wanna hate on Mondays, think twice.

Tuesday

5 June

10:35

Accordin’ to some researchers who got time on their hands, they said Monday mornings are so depressing that on average humans don’t crack a smile until 11:09! I wonder how they arrived at that conclusion though.

Anyways, what them researchers forgot to mention was that shit could get uglier than not jus crackin’ a smile much much earlier than 11:09.

Bus Station

10:33

I suddenly noticed men runnin’ toward a commotion a few meters away from where I was tryna get some’ done, I craned my neck and there they were, the source of the mornin’ excitement…two well built young bucks goin’ at each, no gloves, no head guard, no WWE fanciness, jus pure old fashioned bare knuckle fist fight!

From where I was standin’, I swear I could hear the sound of fists slammin’ against temples and guess what? Nobody stepped in to separate these fools; niggas jus made a circle around ‘em and enjoyed the fight.

I moved close and saw that these two bus station hustlers had blood drippin’ from their faces and tears streamin’ down from their eyes…I looked in their faces  and saw a silent plea in their eyes and eventhough they weren’t sayin’ it, mutherfuckers were beggin’ to be separated!

Huh, what did I do?

Well, I did what Clark Kent or Peter Parker woulda done if they were there; I got my super hero on (no spidey suit or red cape flowin’ between my knees though) and separate them boys. And no, I didn’t take no stray blows to the head. They were too exhausted to produce one!

Outro

Jus like those two Monday mornin’ fighters, the lil wanna-be bully looked for a way out of the fight but the other lil punk asses jus stood around and enjoyed my humiliation. Did I say my humiliation? Yeah, I did…that lil wanna-be bully was me!

Ever since that black Monday years ago, I never pulled a punch except I really need to and I never stand around to watch mutherfuckers fight themselves to exhaustion again…umm, well not really.