You’ve got me feenin’…FOR SOME ANSWERS!!!!

People of the ‘Net…a question has arisen.

It is a question of the utmost importance and I need answers. I need answers STAT. Or ASAP. Or perhaps ASAP and STAT actually do mean the same thing so I need the answer 40 ways from Sunday. Which according to some porn stars, is how they like to get smurfed.

The question is this:

Without me giving you a list of songs to choose from, what is Jodeci’s best song?

A friend of mine and I were debating this question yesterday as she has her pick and I have mine. We attempted to dismantle eachother’s decision and it ended up with me changing my choice, then her changing her choice, then us being unable to actually declare a best Jodeci song. Their catalog is sick. The only definitive thing I determined was that I could not date a woman who didn’t accept the fact that Diary Of A Mad Band was their best album.

Any woman who says otherwise need not speak to me ever.

So I implore you, help us, the Black community, and any white people who actually listen to Jodeci, determine the best Jodeci song by placing your choice in the comments.

We need results people!!!! Plus, I SO want to be able to tell my friend that I was right and she was wrong. There’s nothing on the line, but I’ll take glory points.

Allons-y.

For the record, I am actually tallying from both her MySpace and text messages I’ve sent out and I will be posting the results.

And make sure that if you mean a remix, you put remix. I.e. Come and Talk To Me (Remix) or Freek-N-U (Remix).

“He’s a nigger.”

Everybody in the world by this point has heard about Michael Richards’ blow up the other day. I’ve turned his name into a verb, adjective, and adverb by this point.

I called somebody a Michael Richard’s ass nigga the other day.

I wasn’t exactly outraged by the video clip. Perhaps I’ve just come to accept these things as part of society. Sure he was wrong, and sure he’s a bigot, and yes I believe he meant exactly what he said. Thing is, I don’t actually think he’s any different than any number of white people out there.

Or Black people.

Us Black people just don’t have a word that evokes the same type of historical symbolism as the dreaded n-word. If we had one, I’m sure we’d be using it too.

Mind you, none of that makes it okay. Michael Richards was wrong on all fronts. He wasn’t even funny. He seemed like a possessed jack-ass.

Well, of course, the Black community is responding to this incident through recharged efforts to stop everybody from using the n-word. I use the n-word. A lot actually. Not even intentionally. I think I’ve just been using it so long, for whatever reason, that it’s become second nature. I never use it around white people, which makes me believe that I could stop if I wanted to. Similar to cursing in front of one’s parents. I don’t curse in front of mom dukes.

Anyway, everybody’s favorite Johnny-come-lately civil rights group, the NAACP, has taken up the cause of trying to eradicate the usage of the n-word. And though I think that there are a million other problems more worth addressing, this time, I just might pay attention to their efforts because of one man.

Paul Mooney.

According to Allhiphop.com, Paul Mooney has taken to stopping his usage of the word.

Legendary African-American comedian Paul Mooney, who has written controversial material for comedians like Richard Pryor and Dave Chappelle, is well known for his using the word in his own comedy routines.

Like Paul Wall and the late Richard Pryor, Mooney has vowed to never use the word again during his routine. “I’ve used it and abused it, and I never thought I’d say this,” Mooney said. “Richards is my Dr. Phil ��� he’s cured me.”

Anybody familiar with Paul Mooney knows how often he uses that word. I mean, one of his favorite lines was that he said the word 100 times when he woke up in the morning because it kept his teeth white.

So for Paul Mooney to decide that he will no longer use the word, similar to the path of Richard Pryor and other luminary comedians of the past, at least gives me pause.

Not exactly pause enough to stop using it, but it at least makes me think. I suppose I’m somewhat of a contradiction when it comes to the n-word. For one, I will never use it around white people…ever. It just seems stupid to me to do so. However, I still use it around Black people. And I know that the hip-hop community has co-opted it into a term of endearment and legions of n-words everywhere think nothing of it as we use it daily, but it is still problematic.

For instance, we hate the Confederate battle flag, which is a symbol of the old, racist, slave-holding South. Black folks get into a tizzy when they see that flag. Yet we use the other symbol, the n-word.

My solution has long just been to do the same thing that we did with the n-word. Make it ours. I’ve planned on creating a red, black, and green confederate battle flag for years. And Lil Jon and Andre 3000 have both rocked Black and White confederate flags in videos.

Then again, that doesn’t really make much of a change now does it? I’d like to say I’m torn here, but I’m really not. I like doing things that spark controversy and a red/black/green Confederate flag would do just that. But I also like inciting some sort of emotion in racist white people…

…and defacing that flag does just that. I can imagine me walking around in Alabama with my own t-shirt version of that flag. Hell, I might get beat down because of it.

Guess that would be what it feels like for a white man to call a Black man a nigger…because white rednecks take that flag seriously.

I have no idea if I’ll ever really stop using the n-word. I suppose at some point I’ll just get tired of it or perhaps I’ll see the “light”. Maybe not. It doesn’t offend me that much. And I’m around like 8 white people in my entire life right now. And none of them would call me that to my face so I don’t even get the opportunity to get riled up about it anymore like I used to when I was in high school in Alabama.

It’s often strange to me what causes us to get active in this nation as Black people. We need some sort of impetus to bring to the people so that we can get motivated about something. People use the n-word everyday, white people I mean, but the second a famous person says it, we are able to organize into some sort of driving force.

I’m not sure how I feel about that. What’s the good of being an organization if you only act when something bad happens? You can never really create change if your only reactive. It’s transparent. If you only show up after the fire but don’t do anything in the first place to prevent it, you lose credibility, which is usually where I stand with the NAACP and lots of the once prominent civil rights organizations. No more proactivity…all reactive.

All in all, this whole discussion about the n-word is interesting. One, everybody knows all of the problems and everybody knows the most easy and effective solution. But nobody knows if it will make a difference. If nobody, whites or Blacks, used the n-word, would anything really change? Does it even count as a step in the right direction? I suppose in some ways it does…then again, I’m skeptical as race will never go away and therefore racism will never go away.

I mean, we’ll all be different colors forever.

Perhaps without the n-word we wouldn’t have to be reminded of it verbally.

Unfortunately, we’ll always be able to still feel it…

Such is life.

Well, tomorrow anyway.

Thanksgiving has long been my favorite holiday. It’s the one holiday where a large segment of my family comes together. We tend to use Thanksgiving as an excuse to have a mini-family reunion every year. I like Christmas but it’s usually more segmented in my family. But Kill-An-Injun Day? All in.

So because I’ll be returning from whence I came (read back Down South) I wanted to wish everybody a Happy Thanksgiving holiday and in turn, tell you a few things that I’m thankful for…for yes, I am thankful.

This Is My Thank You For 2004 (but really 2006)

I’m thankful for Jim Jones.

I know this a vast departure from my earlier stances which placed him as Satan’s right hand man, if he wasn’t Satan himself, but I’ll be damned if he isn’t one entertaining SOB. Have you read an interview of his? Or just listened to him talk? He’s more entertaining than 50 Cent - and that’s saying something. I mean, he sincerely seems to get a kick out of life and everything that gets thrown at him. True he’s the biggest hater on the planet, but he does it with flair. I mean, what OTHER rapper do you know that would actually take a diss track from somebody (in this case Jay-Z), add two more verses, and release it to radio to get more spins. AND…truly get a kick out of it. And to add insult to injury, he’s become way more of a star than Cam’ron…makes no sense to me either. Viva la Jim Jones.

I’m thankful for collard greens and spaghetti salad.

True, this doesn’t even really need much explanation but I’ll let you in on a little secret. I’m one of the absolute pickiest eaters you will ever come across…except when it comes to my mother or my sister’s cooking. I’ll eat anything they make. Even cauliflower, and I HATE cauliflower. Well I’ll be at home and (God-willing) they’ll both be there cooking. It’s the only time I’m more than willing to wash the dishes because the food was worth it. Ya know, I think I may have lost a potential girlfriend once because she was afraid to cook for me because she didn’t think she could handle the rejection. Oh well, I lost one…one…one….

Sorry, I’m a champion.

I’m thankful for my friends.

Yeah, yeah, I get mushy every now and then. From three dimensional to letters on a computer screen. From Los Angeles to Atlanta to New York to DC to Huntsville to Boston to Baltimore, etc. I’ve got some doggone good friends.

I’m thankful for Stacey Dash.

Not only did she win the tourney this year, she gives me hope that it is entirely possible to find and marry a woman who might just be that damn fine for the rest of her life. Hell, I might even throw Angela Bassett and Pam Grier into this one. Am I superficial? Mmhmm…and they give me hope and faith that I, too, can marry a banging ass MILF.

I wonder who will start the GMILF since there really are 30 year old grandparents running around here.

Hey, hey…did you hear that 4 out of 10 kids born nowadays are born out of wedlock and that teenage mothers aren’t the bulk. In fact, teenage mothers have been declining over the past few years. Nope, it’s the independent women bracket (20’s) that’s kicking up the stats now.

Take that Ronald Reagan.

I’m thankful for college football.

It’s my favorite sport and my favorite time of the year to watch television. And I’m REALLY praying for a Michigan-Ohio State rematch.

I’m thankful for Tide Laundry Detergent.

Washing clothes is my favorite chore. In fact, when I get married, I’m going to specifically request that I get to wash all of my own clothes assuming my wife doesn’t trust me with her unmentionables.

Hmm…so if you mention unmentionables, doesn’t that actually make them mentionables? It can’t be unmentionable if you actually mention it can it? Things like this keep me up at night.

But yes, back to Tide. I’ve tried various laundry detergents, but none quite gets my clothes smelling and feeling the way I want like Tide. Hell, I’ve got two different kinds of Tide that I use depending on whether or not I’m using warm/hot or cold water. My laundry game is vicious. And don’t even get me started on my folding game.

I’m thankful for Black people.

I love Black people. We keep me entertained to no end. Just when I think we can’t come up with any new way to set ourselves back I find out that somebody forgot to kill OJ Simpson and was ALMOST about to let him release a book detailing how he WOULD have killed Nicole Brown-Simpson and Ronald Goldman.

Oy vey. Boy, old Rupert Murdoch was gonna catch some serious flack for that one wasn’t he?? (The book was going to be published by a subsidiary of NewsCorp, of which Rupert Murdoch is the principal stockholder).

I’m thankful for white people.

It’s true. I pretty much love everybody anyway, but white folks are just fun. And so helpful at times. Plus, without white people the economy of America would go under in something like a nanosecond seeing as the rest of minorities would all be late showing up.

Oh wait, the Hispanic folks would definitely be on time and working extremely hard. Word to Vicente Fox.

But if you left if to us los Negroes??? Down down down…yeah, I said it.

I’m thankful for Michael Richards.

Yes he’s a racist. And no, nothing he can say at this point will stop me from thinking otherwise. Thing is, I’m okay with it. At least he, for a brief moment, was being honest. And that’s not on display enough in this great country of ours. I appreciate it when people actually say how they feel and DON’T apologize for it. The world is becoming to doggone politically correct. If we could all sit down and let folks say how they really feel, I think we’d get much further in race relations than we are. And all we’d need is Wolf Blitzer and Dave Chappelle to moderate.

That would be the real United Nations.

I’m thankful that I didn’t lose my sister.

I don’t often get extremely personal on here though I’ve done it a time or two, but a few months back I was deathly afraid that my little sister was going to take her own life. Everytime somebody called me from home I was afraid it was going to be a phone call tellling me to come home because she’d finally done it. Sometimes I wouldn’t even answer because of that. It literally scared me to tears at one point. Those that know me well know how much my little sister means to me…she’s probably the one person I’d lay down my life for.

Anyway, after much prodding, begging, and pleading, she FINALLY decided to allow us to help her help herself and she seems to be doing much better. I heard hear laugh for the first time in what seems like months a few days ago. So, trust me…I’m very thankful for this one. Still has a long way to go, but at least she’s still here to try.

Whew…

I’m thankful for Homecomings.

I wrote about this already but I seriously don’t think I can date a woman who has no respect for homecoming, especially and HBCU homecoming. Deal breaker.

Similarly, any woman who thinks the best rapper on Earth is one of Dem Franchize Boys also has no place in my life. One of the Ying Yang Twins however, well, I’ll at least listen.

Speaking of which…

I’m thankful for nutty ass women.

So many out there and so many who bring so many different things to the table. I’m often amazed at some of the things I’ve learned from nutty ass women. I can’t get into any details here, just trust me.

I’m thankful for gangs of Mexican penguins.

So I went to see Happy Feet last weekend. Dumbest damn movie ever. The baby penguins are cute and all but man was that a bad movie. It was only saved by this gang of Mexican penguins who were just downright hilarious. Fun-loving. The kind of penguins you’d want to kick it with. Plus, they also gave me my new saying:

“I’ve got personality with a capital Y. Y? Because I’m hot!!”

El classic-o.

I’m thankful for stupid ass sayings that sound like stuff I’d say.

Well, clearly you just heard one, but on Jay Z’s latest offering he has a song called “Beach Chair”. And in this song called “Beach Chair”, Jay posits that life is but a beach chair. And it probably has some really deep meaning about what happens when folks grow up and move on from the limelight or whatever…

It’s still dumb. However, I love it and have been running around ending conversations like this:

“I’m sexxy and remember, life is but a beach chair.”

You can’t stop it. Can’t stop it. Spin the Q-Tip. Throw it away.

Lastly…

I’m thankful that I’m alive.

I love life and I love living. I don’t have much room for sourpuss’ (dude, total double entendre there) who like to bring other folks days down. I like smiling and I like smiley faces. Hell I like Gnarls Barkley. I love my friends and my family. I love living.

If my time is up tomorrow, I’ve had a hell of a run. And I’m at peace with that. Plus, my insurance will cover all of my outstanding bills.

Clearly this list isn’t exhaustive, but I am. I’m done now.

So Happy Thanksgiving to you all. Eat well and if you will be doing any drinking and you’re in North Alabama, let me know. I’ll be around…

In this world, there are a few things you just do not fuck with a Black man about.

2) His momma. Since most of our fathers are absentee at worst and total dickheads at best, our mothers become our sanctuary; our sole source of true inspiration and largely the one and only woman we have unfettered trust in.

Talking about a Black man’s mother just might get you fucked up. But even that can be forgiven because as is usual, most people always go straight for the momma when trying to instigate.

And then we have this…

1) His money. This just might get you killed. Period. Point blank.

“…fuck that, exclamation, comma, quotation, i love drama, period…” ~ Jay-Z “Trouble” Kingdom Come (in stores tomorrow)

You do not, I repeat, do not, fuck with a Black man’s money. You can talk about my momma, but do not fuck with my money.

And yet, in the past few weeks, folks have been fucking with my money and being a little bit too easy-going about it. Allow me to share a little bit about my adventures…follow me.

Panama Get’s His Car Fixed

Washington, DC, has some of the absofuckinlutely stupidest laws known to man when it comes to getting your car registered. Without going into too much detail, in order to get your car registered in DC, you must pass a safety inspection and in order to pass inspection you cannot have you windows tinted despite the fact that in Washington, DC, it is legal to have your windows tinted.

Common sense, be damned.

Anywho, I had to remove my tints and in the process, the folks that removed my tints fucked up my car stereo.

Umm, yeah, because THAT makes sense.

Well, in order to get my stereo back online, I have a security code I punch in. Well, a long long time ago, I had my stereo replaced by my dealer (car not crack) and they never gave me the new security codes. I didn’t realize that. So my stereo fuckin’ locked up and shut down. I take it back to the dealer and they charge me 100 bucks to find out the codes DESPITE it being their fault that I didn’t have the right one in the first place.

As you can imagine, I went into that bitch in Ether mode. I was ready to burn the place down over my 100 dollars since it was THEIR fault in the first place. What made it even worse was this:

[This is the transcript of an actual conversation that I had]

Pissed Panama: When I had my stereo repaced, by you all, the guy didn’t give me the new codes. I mean, why would I lock up my own stereo with the WRONG codes if I KNEW they were wrong in the first place? Either I didn’t know I had the wrong one, which would be your fault, or I had the wrong codes, which again, would be your fault. How am I being held liable when this is your dealership’s fault?

Service Manager: Well, I just talked to my top manager who informed me that since we can’t prove that he didn’t give you the codes we can’t do anything about the price.

Pissed Panama: Excuse me???? Because you can’t prove he didn’t??!?!?? Which also means that you can’t prove that he did?????!!!!! Right?!! Right?!?!!!

SM: Well, yes…

PP: Can I speak to your manager???

I spoke with the manager and he fixed my shit and I got my money back. But seriously, what the FUCK kind of logic is that??

Score: Panama 1 Moneyfuckers 0

Panama Get’s His Car Insured

When switching one’s car over to a new jurisdiction, one must get one’s car insured in one’s new district…one.

I did just that. I had my insurance transferred over. I’ve been leary of doing this for years for a few reasons. For one, I live in Washington, DC, and not in a neighborhood known for its upstanding citizenry. That is changing and you can walk down the street safely and it is changing into a white neighborhood actually.

I mean, white people walk their dogs at 3am without any fear. Amazing, isn’t it? Fuck Starbucks, THAT’S how you know your neighborhood is changing.

For two, I currently park on the street in a neighborhood where the kids actually spray paint cars of folks that don’t live there. No lie. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. I was floored. These kids literally went car by car and skipped over the cars of people they knew lived in the neighborhood.

For three, where my car was previously registered was a veritable car utopia compared to where I live now. People used to park there and leave windows down and cars unlocked. I’m not saying they should, I’m just saying they did.

I get my car insured and I’m given a quote that I can live with. It sounds a little bit too good to be true but whatever. The lady assures me that it’s my rate quote. So imagine my surprise (and chagrin) when I start getting my paperwork in the mail and my once benign and pleasant quote has somehow managed to inflate itself by 100 dollars. No longer benign, it has become malignant. It has chafed my hide.

So I do what any self-respecting sexxy and debonair Negro would do, I call my insurance agent where I am informed that my initial quote was the product of A FUCKING MISTAKE ON HER PART. She placed me in the wrong class which resulted in my lower quote. Apparently, she had me listed (through no fault of my own…my paper work merely transferred offices so all of my information was available for her in front of her very eyes) as an over 30 married man. And seeing as how I’ve neither reached 30 nor have I been enslaved into marriage, my rate was wrong.

You know mistakes happen, but what pissed me off is that when I called and she immediately picked out the error she seemed awfully cavalier about it, like my 100 dollars doesn’t matter. She just kind of said, “oops” and called it a day. Needless to say, with inept fucks like that working at this particular insurance agency…I’m beginning my search for insurance elsewhere. The key to good customer service is to not make your client feel as if you DON’T CARE that you just fucked them and didn’t even give them a kiss on the cheek when you left in the middle of the night.

Score :Panama 1 Moneyfuckers 1

Other Side of The Story: I must say, I kind of deserve this one though. You see, when I was looking for an agent, I came across a site that listed all of the agents in my neighborhood and had pictures. I went straight for the most attractive agent. Plus she was a Delta and went to Howard. I figured I can’t lose, right?? Wrong. Word to the wise: Never trust a fine Delta from Howard…she just might fuck you out of your money and not even kiss you on the cheek afterwards.

Panama And His Paycheck

I haven’t gotten to the bottom of this one yet, but apparently my current employer has decided to come light with my money this pay period. Either I’m being fired and don’t know it, or somebody made a boo-boo that needs some correcting. And it isn’t even a huge amount, it’s just the principle. Actually, it’s my motherfucking money so it is a big deal and it is a principle issue and I’m a Black man.

All I know is that if this shit doesn’t add up, there just may be some major changes ’round these parts one of these days.

Plus, how you gonna fuck somebody over during the Christmas season? That’s just cruel.

Score: Panama 1 Moneyfuckers 1

But we don’t know how this last one will turn out.

AND IT’S ONLY MONDAY!! And Michigan lost to Ohio State for the THIRD straight year though luckily they’re still ranked #2 in the BCS.

I never talk about it on here, but I’m a diehard Michigan fan. Hell, I used to live in Ann Arbor and I still remember getting my shots at the University of Michigan hospital. They used to give me Snoopy band-aids.

I can’t wait to see what Tuesday has in store…

[***1) This is a long ass review, but it's Jay-Z, it requires it. 2) I reviewed this album based on my listening experience of sitting outside on my corner as my neighbor blasted this in its entirety as I would not ever steal or pirate music...(avoiding lightning strike). ***]

“…can’t leave rap alone, the game needs me…” ~ Jay-Z, “Izzo (H.O.V.A.)” The Blueprint

After a three year hiatus, Shawn Carter has returned to grace the rap world with his presence. From Marcy to Madison Square he’s done it all and it was time to finally take a little R&R. He’s been everywhere. We’ve all seen the pictures of he and the misses vacationing from the Carribbean to Africa. Hell, he had a street named after him in Nigeria. I suppose Martin Luther King, Jr. Blvd was just a little bit too violent for their tastes. And out of the benevolence of his heart, he’s managed to take a message of clean water to many developing nations in both Africa and Asia. No word on whether he actually left a lifetime supply of Evian in any of those countries, but getting the word out is just as important, no?

That Jay-Z, what a humanitarian.

But amidst all of the work he’s done, not to mention running Def Jam, he felt that itch to record again. He’s a hustler, true. But he’s also a rapper, and by many folks measuring stick, he’s the Greatest of All Time. Truth be told, I think he is. Which means that whenever he drops an album, it’s an event. Hell, he all but buried the anticipation for Nas’ first Def Jam co-venture, Hip-Hop Is Dead…The N, the very second he announced he had an album dropping…originally slated for a week removed from Nas’ album. That definitely sounds like a Presidential fumble, Bush League style. Then again, he’s Hov so he does what he wants.

And nowhere is that notion more evident than on Kingdom Come. There’s a lot to be said for not caring what anybody but yourself feels when putting out an album. Kanye West comes to mind. Despite my many debates with people about Late Registration, Kanye did what the hell he wanted and put together quite the motherfucker of an album. And is it a classic? Even though I don’t like every song on the album (”Roses” comes to mind), yes it is. (That’s for you JK). Jay-Z takes that road on Kingdome Come. You might say he’s been doing that over his past few albums but I don’t think so. For instance, if he was just trying to do Jay, there is no way in HELL he would have made “Change Clothes” the first single from The Black Album. No way in hell. But he had to get radio and sales. So he did. The Blueprint? He was gunning for a classic album from the outset. He knew, everybody knew it so he had to do what classic albums do; go for the jugular when necessary, be introspective when necessary, and ultimately make sure that there is very little room for anybody to question the product (”Jigga That Nigga”, notwithstanding. I absolutely hate that song).

So what changed to make him finally make an album full of shit he just wants to do?? Well, basically, he’s rich, bitch. And comfortable. And probably a little bored. He has no real competition left. Not Nas. Not T.I. Not Lil Wayne. All very talented and respected rappers, but I mean, Jay doesn’t have shit to prove anymore. Now, he’s just rapping (or at least it seems like it) because he has some shit to say, some rumors to clear up, somethings on his heart, etc. And since he’s a rapper, and the most marketable one (when you see 50 Cent doing Heinekin adds, let me know), he will always have a venue and an audience. So he decided to utilize it.

End game.

So let’s talk about this album, shall we? Yes, let’s. For starters, the songs on this album that are great…are just that great. The songs that suck ass, do just that. There are some (only 2 but that’s 2 more than there should be) TERRIBLE songs on this album.

And for the record, let’s discuss the composition of a song. It is not merely lyrics. It is not merely the beat or the hook. It is the polygamist marriage of all three. But if the beat is horrendous, it makes the other two moot. See Canibus, Ras Kass, Xzibit…basically any of these so called “lyricists” who put together shitty albums. Antonymns: The Game, Jay Z.

With that said, you know there’s something afoul when the intro, “Prelude”, is the best song on the album. I don’t know who B-Money is, but he laced Jay with the most murderous intro beat I’ve heard in a long time. Over a killer Mel & Tim sample, Jay basically lays out who he is and why he does what he does. And as per usual, he finds a new way to tell us why he’s the greatest while taking subliminal but clear shots at those who talk shit subliminally, like The Game.

Then we get into the Just Blaze section of the album. The first 3 tracks are all produced by Just Blaze. First up in the queue is “Oh My God“. As any Just Blaze beat goes (save “Dear Summer” which might be one of my absolute favorite Just Blaze beats), it’s loud and raucous. And I hated it the first time I heard it. But it’s grown on me. And it will grow on you. It’s almost impossible for it not too.

Lyrically, there is one hell of a recurring theme on this album. It’s one of, “I’m still here and this is what I’ve done, respect me and my place in the game.” There’s also a theme of maturity and being grown. But we’ll get to that.

“Kingdom Come“. What can I say about this except it might be one of my favorites on the album. And I hated it at first too. See a trend? You know, as far as songs on this album go, this is the one where Jay really lays out his claim as being the greatest. Of course, you’ve heard this a milliont times by now, but he really asserts himself back into any argument he might have been left out of recently as far as NY goes.

“Show Me What You Got” The single and I do not like it at all. It has nothing to do with Jay moreso than I just don’t like the beat. It’s his ode to product placement and the video is clearly his attempts at cross-over appeal. Dude, Danica Patrick AND Dale Earnhardt, Jr…in the same video??? Being shot in Monaco? Geez-o-flip. I just don’t like this shit. I don’t think I ever will.

Dr. Dre (or whoever makes his beats for him) contributes four tracks and you know what? They all sound the same but they all sound different. Which makes me wonder what an entire Dre-produced album would sound like right now. He has the same basic elements in every beat. Heavy, slow minimalist drum beat. Some bass-chord progessions, and a piano riff. He might throw some strings in to give it an extra eery feel. So why in the fuck is it still impossible for most producers, aside from Kanye, to really fuck with Dre? Me no know.

Dre provides the best song on the album to me in “30 Something” where Jay basically let’s all you young fucks know what being grown is all about. Hell, the first time I really listened to it I asked one of my boys if Jay made being 30 cool. Hell, he killed the throwback industry and Cristal. Perhaps he just might make being 30 that hot shit. It’s also where he drops my favorite line of the album: “i’m afraid of the future/y’all respect who got shot, i respect the shooter…”

Seriously, this is an epidemic that must be stopped. I like 50 just as much as anybody else but random idiots really think getting shot means you are the man. That shit makes you a victim. It doesn’t take anything to get shot. Just yesterday I passed up the opportunity to get shot…I mean, my album isn’t even close to being finished yet.

The much ballyhooed song “Lost Ones featuring Chrisette Michelle” is another Dre track that is amazingly soulful and effective in its simplicity. You’ve heard it too and it’s good. Game. Set. Match.

On the song “Trouble” (produced by Dr. Dre) he touches on the long-lost rumors of his baby with Free: “…that’ll be the day I have a baby by Free/not to say that anything is wrong with Free/just to say that ain’t nothing wrong with me/if my hand’s in the cookie jar, know one thing/I’m gonna take the cookie not leave my ring…”

Well, I’m glad that’s settled.

Jay even gets specifically topical and addressed Hurricane Katrina on “Minority Report featuring Ne-Yo” (prod. by Dr. Dre) and the response to it by himself (kind of deep actually) and others. By the way, I hate Ne-Yo. Thank you.

You know what, let’s talk about the pitfalls on this album. Normally, a less than stellar track would be just that, less than stellar. Not on Kingdom Come. Oh no buddy. You need a for instance, don’t you? Sure you do.

Let’s start with “Anything” (produced by Pharrell and featuring Usher). Pure and utter bullshit. I mean this song is the bar by which garbage should be measured. And I know some of you will end up liking it. And if you do, please never come to me and tell me what “quality” music is ever again.

For real.

Not to be outdone by asstasticness, the song “Anything” is followed up by “Hollywood” which features Beyonce. Oy vey. So like, have you ever seen a petite woman who’s gotten into a fight with a much bigger, butch looking chick who seems like she fights men and fences for a living? Yeah, that’s what this song sounds like to me. A bad idea in practice. Executed in even worse fashion. Who even cares what its about. It sounds like a Beyonce song with Jay rapping on it.

A Beyonce song so bad that even Kelly Rowland wouldn’t want to get on it and we know she needs work.

Speaking of which, Jay is rumored to be doing another Best of Both World’s with none other than…Beyonce.

You may all die silently now. Though “Upgrade U” is hot as the fuck.

And of course, no album is complete without a Swizz Beatz production. And the song “Dig A Hole” would be that production. It’s the song with the uninspired ass verses directed at Cam’ron. He could have saved them joints, for real. I don’t know if it’s just me or not, but I feel like Swizz has been mailing his beats in lately. Between this and the song on The Game’s album the beats just seem uninspired. It’s like he’s just making beats because he’s supposed to, not because he wants them to be good. Then again, Jay and The Game did have to actually PICK those beats so I can’t blame Swizz but so much. Oh, and the dude singing on this song, Sterling Simms? I never ever want to hear from him again.

And who can forget the Kanye West contribution. Now this is a difficult position to be in. For one, I don’t like the song or the beat for “Do U Wanna Ride” featuring John Legend. For two, it sounds like a John Legend song and not a Jay song. For three, the beat sucks. But it only sucks in the, “dude, it’s Kanye…this couldn’t have been the best beat he submitted so Jay must have liked the feel.” For instance, Kanye dropped the “Wouldn’t Get Far” beat on The Game and contributed not only a great verse…

…but the BEST verse on The Game’s album.

Yeah, I said it.

Plus, it’s Kanye, by this point, I just expect the Kanye beat on most albums to be amongst the best. Yeah, I’m comparing him to his other stuff, but that’s his fault he makes good stuff, not mine for hearing it.

And then there’s the song “Beach Chair” (produced by Chris Martin from Coldplay; with an assist from Dr. Dre) where Jay informs us that “life is like a beach chair.” Funny, I didn’t actually know that. I tend to prefer the “life is like a box of chocolates myself” but one man’s trash is another man’s treasure. Cliches are fun aren’t they?

It sounds like Jay rapping over a Coldplay song to me. Personally, I love this song. Not much else I can say. He just kind of lays out his life and aspirations. Much like he does on the DJ Khalil produced “I Made That” which is another monster of a track. It’s kind of a letter to his mother…actually, it’s not kind of. It is. And it’s fuckin’ great.

In a nutshell, and despite my first listen hateration, this album isn’t as bad as I originally surmised. The problem is that the songs I don’t like, I hate. Like I can’t even feign half an interest in them. But it’s a fairly solid album. Now what’s funny is that I’m hearing people (and reading motherfuckers) say that Puffy’s album is better than this. And if you actually believe that, then I would find it hard to ever actually believe your opinion again. Puffy’s album is horrible. He can’t rap. He can’t ride a beat. Hell, he can’t even rap other people’s shit in a convincing manner.

Anyway, overall, Kingdom Come isn’t a classic, nor should it be even believed to be close. The good songs are great and the bad songs require me to really want to ask Jay what the fuck he was thinking. Jay is basically letting you know where he is right now in his life and how he views the rest of us little niggas (which he says a whopping almost 20 times on the song “Trouble”). He’s a grown ass man who does grown ass man things. And he has good credit.

Not bad for a hustler who’s credit used to be being able to get work on consignment. And yes that’s a drug reference.

Is it a career-defining album? Nope. The Blueprint already did that and Reasonable Doubt would be too if most of you actually ever knew Jay existed before “Hard Knock Life”.

But solid album? Despite prior leanings, I’d say yes. And you’ll buy it anyway so it only matters in the realm of his legacy.

It’s still in tact.

And even if you don’t think so…you’ll still be in the club or in your car doing the Presidential:

“…wave, wave, wave…”

Because basically, he will not lose…

…but I must first set up the scenario.

And I will also assume that this is largely a female phenomenon as most men probably wouldn’t get caught up in caring too much.

In the beginning, there was rap.

Now that we have that out of the way, let us continue.

Say that you and your homechicas go to the club one day, or perhaps to a social gathering. There are various menfolks there and you end up taking up with one of the fellows. He’s nice enough and you all are enjoying the conversation. A bunch of his boys are there but you aren’t talking to them since you took up with your new manfriend. Let’s call him Gerald.

R.I.P. Gerald Levert.

We need to give you a name too huh. We shall call you Sheryld. Or her, Sheryld. I never pay attention to tense or anything, so sue me.

So Sheryld and Gerald spend the whole night talking, exhange information, or maybe even go out that night. Hey, they’re just two crazy kids having fun.

Let’s say a few days later, Sheryld and Gerald go to Gerald’s boy’s house for a get-together. Let’s call his boy, Harold.

So Sheryld and Gerald show up, and Harold and the rest of his invited guests are there, yuckin’ it up and getting slizzard off that Patron or something.

Or maybe they’re just playing Parcheesi.

You pick.

Anyway, during the course of the night, and after getting to know Gerald’s boys a little better, Sheryld realizes that Harold is WAY more interesting and perhaps even way better suited for her than Gerald is. I mean, she’s really enjoying talking to him and he seems completely genuine and like a completely good guy. Not that Gerald isn’t, but for some reason, she feels herself “clicking” with Harold.

But she’s “with” Gerald.

Dilemma?

The reason I ask this question is because I have actually witnessed this shit recently. None of the folks involved read this…but when I took a step back and really paid attention to what was going on I said to myself, “poor girl, she picked the wrong one.”

So to the ladies, how much of an occurence is this? Does this happen all the time? And what do you do about it? Do you just suck it up and let it ride or do you go for yours?

Hell, has this actually happened to any dudes?? Like you started messing with one chick and then met her friend and was like, “fuck…I totally like her friend more…”???

I find it to be a funny situation actually, which is why I really want to know how prevalent it is.

Also, Snoop’s song with R “I Ain’t Going To Jail” Kelly, “That’s That” is my new favorite song. I love that shit.

Sugarpants, signing off.

Ummm….fuck an introduction.

Seriously, for one, I don’t think anybody actually reads this shit. Which, you know, is cool and all, cuz truthfully I wouldn’t either. It’s a damn tournament about the looks of beautiful women.

Basically, who gives a shit?!

Not I says the streets.

We run the streets the streets don’t run we.

Speaking of Jay-Z, I might do an album review in a few days. I can’t decide if I want to or not. I mean, hell, he was considering sending the damn FBI after whoever leaked the album (Young Guru), so if I do an album review, it means I actually have the shit right? Not to say that I do or anything. Perhaps I’d just do an album review of what I think the album would sound like.

Yes, that sounds appropos.

I will say that where the album is hot, it’s en fuego. But when it tanks, man, it’s Blueprint 2 bad. Yeah, that bad.

On to the tournament.

Welcome to the fuckin’ final day of voting both here at Jackson G. Tickle Enterprises and over at The Royal Youngs, who’s owner “The Champ” has to be extremely happy today after his lowly Pittsburgh Steelers actually won a game, besting the downtrodden, hurricane beaten Saints of New Orleans. Good job, Pittsburgh, way to pick on the little guy. Not to be outdone, my Falcons of Atlanta proved that they do indeed suck (in case anybody thought otherwise) by losing for the second week in a row to a team that most people forgot actually relocated back to Cleveland.

The winner from the East side of the Bracket, courtesy of the Janet Jackson Bracket…

…our winner, and amazingly so given how many hater-ass women there are out there. Especially with motherfuckers actually admitting to me that they vote for underdogs (that’d be you Gabrielle Union) stricly because of their underdog status.

Guys and gals, I present to you:

BEYONCE “BE” KNOWLES

(I know its tiny, just click on it or something)

There you have it. The supple, young, object of J-A-Y Hova’s affection in all of her splendiferous glory. Truly a beauty to be beholden. Hmm, does that even make any sense? Seriously, have you any idea how glad I am to be done with this shit? Methinks you don’t. And I’d love to say something really uber-sexxy about Beyonce or some shit, but I keep looking at the pictures of Stacey “Mr Ass Is To Old To Hot-Box With God But I Still Look Fuckin’ Fine” Dash and I keep doing my best old fogey impression by saying, “yowza”. She’s fuckin’ banging. Now, get me, Beyonce is too, but does Beyonce have all of that fineness to look forward to at 40? I have to wonder. We have proof of Stacey’s fineness, similar to Angela Bassett. And we all know that Beyonce is a few biscuits away. Don’t kid yourself either, that weight she was sportin’ in The Fighting Temptations seemed like some natural ass weight. Hell, I’ve seen Momma Tina AKA The Evil Witch of South Texas (motherfucker that’s where I stay).

Panama and The Champ’s Pick and Prediction: Stacey Dash, bitches

We’d like to thank you all for actually voting and contributing your time to this here election campaign. The Gangsta Ninja Electoral College is in full effect mode like Al B. Sure. If you think that Beyonce should win this year’s October Madness (into November) Tournament, then place your vote here at Jackson G. Tickle Enterprises. If you think Stacey Dash should win…then get thee to a nunnery and place your vote over at The Royal Youngs.

Shit ain’t that hard.

And thank you. It’s been a lot of fun…kind of.

Sugarpants, signing off.

[***Don't forget to continue voting in the October (Into November) Madness 2006 tournament for The Final Four both here at Jackson G. Tickle Enterprises and at The Royal Youngs. ***]

Okay, I’m really not, but I could be.

Shake shake shake.

Shake shake shake.

Shake your booty.

Shake your booty.

Dude, I totally love KC and The Sunshine Band’s catalog. You have no idea.

The Democrats have taken control of the House and (presumably) the Senate. Glory Day. I don’t really talk much politics on this site. And for good reason too. If you knew what I did while I was making it do what it do when it needs to get done, you’d understand why I don’t talk politics.

Look, it’s not in my nature to be a mysterious man, but I can’t talk about it and I can’t talk about why.

So let me get this right…the Falcon’s and Michael Vick can go from looking like they suck to looking like the best team in the league back to LOSING TO THE FUCKIN’ DETROIT LIONS???? For real???

Have you ever found, or been pointed to a treasure trove of knowledge of vast proportions and your excited inside, but you can’t share it because of a famous quote you read in comic book of all plaees…a Groo comic book at that: “once everybody finds the greatest place on Earth, it ceases to be the greatest place.”

Speaking of treasure, I love the movie National Treasure. I watch it everytime it comes on cable, and I own it. Little known Panama fact: I friggin’ love history. I can read history books over and over. From US History to World History. Hell I bought the Qu’ran just so I could read it from a historical context and try to gain a better understanding of the history of the Middle East. That’s why I love that movie, it’s all historical and shit. I get like Nicolas Cage does at times in that movie feeling all deep and shit because I’m standing in a place where history took place.

I’ll still stab you if you test my gangsta.

In all the years of my education and reading, the word “supple” has still manage to remain unsupplanted as my favorite word. Really, it just doesn’t get any better than the word “supple”.

In fact, when I was at Homecoming, the suppleness was all around. I mean, it was cold…folks broke out their supple leather coats. Right? Right.

I haven’t been keeping up with Laguna Beach as much this season, but man it seems like the Rocsi chick and Tessa totally get shitted on by everybody. I usually have a hate/loathe relationship with most of those kids but I swear I really feel bad for them two. I just want to hug them.

Speaking of which, what the fuck happend to LC and her shitty as show, The Hills. Her dumb ass roommate had star-in-the-making potential like a motherfucker.

I’ve yet to see Borat but I have seen The Departed. That is a motherfucker of a movie.

The word motherfucker seems uber vulgar, n’est-ce pas?

But not like the p-word. Dirtiest word in the English language.

“Pop quiz, how many topless, black foxes did I have under my belt, like boxers/not to brag but, if it add up, hmm 2, nigga that’s mad nuts…” ~ Kanye West, “Wouldn’t Get Far” from The Game’s album, The Doctor’s Advocate

Man that line slays me.

I get tomorrow off. Fuck you, pay me.

Dude, I don’t know how many of you have been paying attention, but that gotdamn AfterParty Hostess has been having quite the motherfuckers of blog discussions going on over at her site. She’s doing Crunk + Disorderly numbers in her comments. And it’s real discussions and shit. You should go check out the past few days.

And Dr. Strangejazz is engaged?? Congrats homeboy.

It’s official, there ain’t shit you can’t find out through MySpace. You don’t even have to talk to people anymore to find out what’s going on in their life. It’s almost to a point where I’m offended if folks DON’T have MySpace pages thereby forcing me to have to speak to them to see how they’re doing.

Oh, and I found about Dr. Strangejazz from The After Pary’s site, not MySpace. But I’m sure I could have found on MySpace too.

For my folks in DC, if you ain’t got shit to do tonight, and you don’t have to work tomorrow (or hell even if you do) come thru LIV Nightclub/Bohemian Caverns for the Grand Opening of Stock13’s After Party Dope Spot. Go to the Stock13 website to sign up for free admission before 11pm.

Yes, that’s Free.99 for all you folks that are reading.

Bohemian Caverns
2001 11th Street, NW (@ the corner of 11th and U Streets, NW)
Doors open at 10pm

Panama Muhfuckin’ will be there chillin’, most likely at the bar and eventually under it

www.stock13.net

And just as an added bonus, here’s a flyer with the free admission shit attached:

Welcome to what once was tomorrow, but after today, shall be forever known as yesterday.

It’s also the day we unveil the women that you, yes you, the people, have chosen to face off in the Final Four as we are just two duels away from crowning our Miss Banginest Beauty of 2006.

Word to Aaron Burr.

Today, both here at Jackson G. Tickle Enterprises and at The Royal Youngs, we pit two brownskinned beauties against one another in hopes of securing a future for little Black boys and girls everywhere. We take a woman who’s name rhymes with fiancee and a woman whose name rhymes with Sabrielle and place them on 1 Front Street and watch them duke it out.

They need your help America. It’s Decision 2006. And the choice is yours.

[Whoever says we don't believe in education and current events at Jackson G. Tickle Enterprises is just looney.]

You can get with this, or you can get with that, says Beyonce.

Fuck all you bitch ass niggas, says Gabrielle.

As you can see, they’re raring to go!

So without further ado, I bring to you the winner of the Janet Jackson Bracket:

(1) Beyonce Knowles [who beat the breaks off of Sanaa Lathan in the Elite 8]

Beyonce is clearly one of the baddest chicks alive. Point blank. Period. Truth be told I’m amazed she’s made it this far given the amount of hate that comes Beyonce’s way at every turn. Hell, she can’t even smile without somebody calling her a dimbulb, myself included. For some reason, when folks reach a certain plateau when it seems like they’ve jumped the shark (as the very term itself has done), folks go out of their way to say how much they suck. Granted, she ain’t exactly writing songs that people will be singing 100 years from now, but her last album was actually pretty good. In fact, she hasn’t made any gawdawful music and get this…she can actually sing.

And by the way, what does that have to do with her actual looks? Methinks nothing.

Basically I’m just saying that this chick is fine and very much deserving of being here right now. So to all of the haters who took a backseat to common sense this go ’round, thank you. Apparently since Jim Jones is busy with an actual career in music right now due to his fucktastic, but syphillis ass song, “We Fly High” he didn’t rally his hater troops so Beyonce made it. But I have every faith in the world that you all will show back up and do what’s in your heart.

The wrong thing.

And all was right with the world.

Speaking of…

And welcome to the Nia Long Bracket!!!

(7) Gabrielle Union [who barely edged out Zoe Saldana in the Elite 8]

I can’t front, I like Gabrielle Union. A whole lot even. She’s hot in her own girl-next-door kind of way. I’d totally date her. She’s not all over the place and like I said she’s interchangeable with Sanaa Lathan. She seems nice-sweet, even. And it is for that reason I think she’ll end up taking Beyonce out. I think it will be close but it will be a victory nonetheless.

Strangely, despite her B- Level celebrity status, I feel like I could approach Gabrielle Union out in public. I don’t know why that is either. Perhaps its the fact that I know for a fact I’ve seen women finer than her. I don’t know, but something about her seems approachable and that probably gives her a leg up. She also doesn’t seem as if she’d look at you like you chucked a roasted squirrel at her if you asked her where Nebraska was on a map. Mostly because she’s from there.

Whereas certain other A-list celebrities seem as if nobody’s home on nearly a daily occasion. Though, SWSNBN (Fresh, C+D, 2006) did give one helluva an interview to Sway from MTV a few months back. Her head game has gotten way better. And yes, the pun was intended.

All in all, this is an interesting pairing since these two are damn near polar opposites. It is my belief that this vote will bring out folks preferences because you really can take one or the other for strictly personal reasons that have very little to do with who is really finer. Me, I like darker chicks so I might take Gabrielle off the strength of her skintone…then again, I’m a racist. So don’t listen to me.

Panama’s Pick: Beyonce
Panama’s Prediction: Gabrielle Union
The Champ’s Pick: Beyonce
The Champ’s Prediction: Gabrielle Union

And I’m going to make my calls for the championship right now-Panama says it will be Gabrielle Union versus Stacey Dash, with Stacey Dash taking the whole thing!

Then again, the last time I thought I had this right, I was proven wrong. Which is why I just stay sexxy and call it a day. You know the drill, place your votes in the comments, go to The Royal Youngs to vote on his site in the Kenya Moore vs. Halle Berry Bracket…

…then tune in Monday as we determine once and for all, and in November, who is 2006’s Baddest Brownskinned Beauty.

Vote or die, bitches. Vote or die.

Sidenote: I actually wrote this entire entry listening to Beyonce’s B’Day album. It was written.

[***Be sure to tune in tomorrow as The Champ and I unveil the Final Four of October Madness 2006 on our way to voting for our champion, our Queen To Be, if you will, on, Monday,. And yes, I overused commas on purpose in that last sentence. I'm sexxy like that. ***]

And yes, this will be long.

You know, I wasn’t going to write about what went down at Homecoming this year. Hell, I can barely remember what went down this year to tell the truth. Let’s just say that there were a whole lot of drunken moments and shenanigans, some of which I remember, most of which I don’t. But I’ve gotten quite a few emails from people that went something like this:

“Panama, where the fuck is the homecoming writeup?? You come back writing about why you love HBCU’s and shit but don’t even tell us about what went down for homecoming?? The fuck is up with that?? Spill it bitch!”

Okay, they didn’t all go exactly like that (or like that at all), but enough people have hit me up to force me, Mike Tyson style, to write up homecoming. Besides, I suppose that I’d like to be able to actually remember what the hell happened 20 years from now, you know, assuming I’m not in a Turkish prison somewhere for trying to take out Starbucks. Plus, my friends who were there always have fun fact checking these things, assuming they were actually sober enough to remember any of it. Because I’m lazy, I shall tell you all what I learned this year as I’m not feeling creative enough this morning to drum up some new and innovative way to tell you about the shit that goes down at a Morehouse/Spelman Homecoming courtesy of KD, Panama The Most Muhfuckin’.

Going Back To The A: Things One Might Learn at a Morehouse or Spelman Homecoming - The 2006 Edition

“We Fly High” is not only a terrible song, but that damn Balllin’ saying gets old after a while.

At nearly every event me and my friends go to, we adopt some song, unintentionally, as our theme song. At my boy’s wedding back in September, Baby and Lil Wayne’s “Stuntin’ Like My Daddy” was the theme, and quite appropriately so. Well, I’ll be damned if EVERYBODY in Atlanta wasn’t running around yellin’ fuckin’ “baaaaaalllinnnnnnn”. My folks included. Which begs the question, has anybody actually listened to that shit? That song is fuckin’ terrible. In the pantheon of shitastic songs, it has to be at least in the top 20. But much like syphillis and HIV, these songs are catchy causing everybody to run around yelling these things or mouthing the words. Laffy Taffy anyone?

I’m actually gonna get back to this song a little bit later.

I liked the movie Idlewild, but drinkin’ that Idlewild might kill you.

Me and my boy Frank White got into Hartsfield-Jackson-Robinson-Jackson-Jordan-Luscious Atlanta International Airport at the same time and were both staying with my folks Barry and Kanika. I wrote about their wedding back in May. Good times. Let me tell you…these two are a lot of damn fun. True party people and always down for a good time so it only makes sense to stay with them during homecoming. Well, they ALSO like to drink. So we get there on Thursday night and this nigga Barry pulls out this drink that will forever be known as “Idlewild”. In fact, Barry put tape over the label on the bottle (so nobody but those of us there that night actually know what it really is) and wrote the word “Idlewild” on it. All weekend we were fuckin’ folks up on that Idlewild. However…

…that shit just might kill you. It is hands down the nastiest damn whiskey I’ve ever had. In fact, this is how potent it was. I drank a few glasses of it, ya know, to prove my gangsta. I swear my liver started hurting. No lie…the kid was in pain. Even Barry was like to hell with that. Frank Whyte…naw, he just had to keep drinking it. Then again, this is the same ninja who likes Cisco and Nightrain. Seriously.

And of course, a few days later, my dumb ass starts drinking it…again. No pain that time, luckily I had had enough other shit to drink…in fact…fuck it.

This is already a fact, but if I have a good meal before I start drinking, I can really drink a lot.

Remember how much fun I said Barry and Kanika are? Well, on Friday, Barry had to go to work so it was me, Frank White, Kanika, and my boy Cool Breeze hanging out. Oh yeah, this nigga CB calls me on Thursday night after I get into Atlanta telling me what time he gets in on Friday morning (830am). Normally nobody’d give a shit except…THIS NIGGA NEVER TOLD ANYBODY HE WAS COMING. Nobody knew. Everybody got a good laugh at that one. Some ninjas just show up all haphazardly with no notice. Which can only add to the fun.

So, there is this happy hour planned by some AKA’s (not sure they’re all AKA’s) from 5-9 at Atlantic Station. We’re hungry at 2pm so we just go to Atlantic Station to eat and start drinking. Being the lushes we are, me, Frank, and CB order a few drinks. Kanika is taking it easy…I think.

*I need to interrupt this program right here to tell you that from here on out, shit gets REALLY blurry as this was the point we started drinking, for real for real, and we didn’t stop until the weekend was over…literally, ninjas were faded at the airport. I might leave some things out. *

I know a few Long Islands were had…fuck it.

Let’s just get to the damn Happy Hour, mmkay?

If I’m drinking, it will become imperative to me that you do too.

Look…I honestly can’t tell you how many drinks were had at the happy hour. I can ONLY remember one Long Island I had and taking one shot of Patron with some chick that I didn’t know but apparently knew everybody I knew. However, I do remember seeing people and ordering drinks (or in some cases giving folks money) to buy drinks. Now this is where it gets funny. I only REMEMBER one drink. I was TOLD that folks saw me with at least 6 other drinks and apparently I took 2 or more shots. Now, I don’t do shots alone…that makes you a drunk. So I was clearly taking shots with other folks. Whoever you are…stay drankin’!!!

Oh, and according to one of my boys who wasn’t there but talked to one of his homegirls that was there, I introduced myself to one chick FIVE times the EXACT same way at the Happy Hour. I probably said some very stupid shit as well but apparently I was drunk enough and harmless enough where nobody slapped me or called the police.

I can’t tell you who or why, but what happened and how is a mystery…and when sucks too.

This chick that we know from undergrad who was heralded as one of the baddest skinny chicks due to her overzealous and robust derriere has FUCKIN’ LOST IT. It’s gone?!!?!!! Poof, vamoose son of a bitch!!! Dude, I might have had a drink for her ass on principle alone. We tried to determine the level of tragedy that, I think we settled upon cataclysmic event.

I’m getting sad just thinking about it.

Damn.

My friends are the fuckin’ greatest.

Now before I was drunk off of my ass, we get to the Happy Hour spot early and cordon off this HUGE ass table. It seats like 10 people or something. Well, me and my folks have this unwritten policy that states: If one person decides he will have a drink, the others must follow suit UNLESS he is under the full understanding that another drink might cause sickness.

It’s law.

When folks started arriving for the Happy hour they all went to the back of the Fox Sports Grill and our table was in the front. But for real, we were having a lot of fun on our own anyway. As I’ve gotten older I’ve realized that homecoming becomes way more about seeing your real friends than it does the folks you never talk too. That became a running theme of the weekend.

Now…that’s not to say we weren’t back there with our Morehouse and Spelman compadres. Hell, that’s how I ended up meeting my new drinking partner who goes to school down in Augusta, GA. I’m not sure WHY we ended up taking shots together (I probably requested it), but we did and I made a new friend…as usual. I’m one of them folks who will usually just go talk to any and everybody…especially when I’m drinking. You meet more Peruvian prostitutes that way, I swear.

Current events and world history always remain on my mind and heart.

All I can say here is that if I meet a woman named Katrina (again)…I will start calling her hurricane (again).

If you can holler at a chick at an airport, you SHOULD holler at a chick at an airport.

Courtesy of my boy Frank White (have you noticed I spelled White differently damn near everytime?). Pimpin’ calls me in the airport when we first get in and tells me he fumbled because this hot chick asked him about his locs. You know, he’s one of them huge ass ninjas with locs that women all want to touch and shit. Fuckin’ man of the year and shit. Anyway, we’re on the phone and he’s telling me that she was hot then he says: “oh shit…i didn’t blow it…CLICK”

Aww naw, big Frank Dog, pulled this chick who ended up coming to the Happy Hour. And you know what, she was hot, and had a hot friend with her and them ninjas were fuckin’ fun. And……….

…boy were THEY the subject of numerous conversations during the weekend. Our boy Trey was the inside man on them two chicks and apparently Young Dro knew what the fuck he was talking about:

“my girl got a girlfriend…”

That is the new goal in the crew. We must all now attain a woman who has a girlfriend. Before we die.

I mean, I probably don’t need to say anymore, but hot G-O-G action that beckons you to be involved????

Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit.

Also…I must now also find and procure a hot chick at the airport. Why, you ask? Because Frank did and I’m trying to keep up.

Chuuuch.

Do you notice how little of any of this shit actually has to do with Morehouse or Spelman??

If the DJ sucks, you should slap him.

So let me get this right…the two biggest songs out right now are Jim Jones “We Fly High” and “Stuntin’ Like My Daddy”…and the DJ DOESN’T play them????

The fuck?

It’s already bad enough that the club we went to was something like some shit aesthetically (I’m getting old, I pay attention to these things now), but a bad DJ too??? Luckily, so many folks we knew were in there which is always cool. Though for the most part, I didn’t really care about most of them. However…

…this chick that I used to have the MOST major crush on was there…with her man…who is somebody I know. It’s always funny when I see this chick because she remembers me and I remember her. We always end up locking eyes for a few at least then go on about life. We’ve met before in the strangest of circumstances but when I tell you it seems like two folks are gonna be connected for life, it’s me and this chick.

Oh yeah…and I saw Hurricane again. And I called her Hurricane again. And yes I was drinking again.

Seriously, I wonder how many gallons of liquor me and my friends consumed over the course of the weekend. Hell…speaking of gallons…

Uncle Ricky’s Punch is that crack.

My boy The Doc was there of course and he made the annual batch of crack called, Uncle Ricky’s Punch. Just to kind of give you a reference point for this shit. Me and Trey purchased a 70 dollar bottle of Grey Goose, you know, one of the huge ass bottles.

We used the whole thing in the punch.

The whole thing.

And you couldn’t taste the vodka at all. Like at all.

I don’t think you hear me. When I tell you this is a drink that will fuck you up??? Believe in me like my last name started with a C.

So we did the standard empty out 32 oz Gatorade bottles and fill them with Uncle Ricky’s punch and the following will ensue at the Tailgate:

-embarass my boy’s little sister’s boyfriend b/c I don’t know this nigga and he’s got his arm around my proxy-little sister;

-will be told that folks have been hearing how drunk you are but that you’re drinking that hot shit to come by and get some;

-will (of course) make a gang of new female friends that you apparently know by face but can’t remember who they are for the life of you;

-will become extremely loud but overly complimentary (not that I was lying, but I get really nice when I get drunk. If I think you (women) look nice, I will make sure to tell you so you know how nice you look or how nice I think you are…I’m like sweet and shit);

-will tell somebody that there’s no need for me to get their number since I won’t call anyway, but it’s really nice to see them;

-will get jumped on the the one and only Got Damn Diva who seems to have gotten a head start from somewhere and pounced on my ass in the middle of the street, which is fine with me, that’s my homey like that…plus she aint ugly.

If an ugly broad pounces on me, it’s gonna be a problem. And I’m so not lying. I might be offended, seriously.

Also offensive is niggas taking bites of books. Yeah, there’s an inside joke there.

You know…I don’t actually remember LEAVING the tailgating at the school. I just realized that. But you know what’s really funny????

Drunk professionalism is harder than chinese arithmetic.

A gang of us decide to go to TGI Friday’s on Peachtree. There are like 20 of us but we didn’t call ahead so the folks are bullshittin’ talking about they cant seat us. So, I decide to negotiate with the manager to try to get us some tables. Mind you, I’m fuckin’ drunk off my ass at this point, so I’m trying to have real conversations with her without saying, “ma’am, you look like Toadstool…but a cute one…but Toadstool none the less”. It took something like 20 minutes but I negotiated the Iraq-Ninja With Tables Treaty and were seated at 3 tables close enough to one another.

Oh, and we were loud as the fuck. Now, what’s REALLY funny about all of this is that we’re Black. You know, I was going to go somewhere with that statement but I decided against it…AND…I’m so gully, I won’t even erase that sentence.

I am Panama…bitches.

It’s also around this time that Cool AC and her friend show up. I think I offended her friend but I’m not 100 percent on that…d’oh well.

Too many parties is a bad thing.

The worst thing that can happen at Homecoming is picking the wrong party to go too. However, if EVERYBODY is having a party (upwards of 10 parties going on Saturday night) they will ALL be the wrong party. So what did Panama and his crew of drunk asses do??

Well, me and my cohort ended up back at my boy Barry’s house drinking a little bit of Idlewild and then waking up at 4am on the floor trying to figure out what the fuck happened. The problem with falling asleep is that EVERYBODY was trying to figure out where we were going. Not like we’re AllStars or anything, but we tend to have a damn time and folks know this. I woke up to 12 text messages from folks ranging from: “where are you all headed?” to “fuck you nigga for not texting me back”.

Two things happened here though: 1) apparently all the parties sucked as I got a few texts from folks telling me that the parties they attended sucked more ass than Heather Hunter; and 2) I was dubbed The Party Train in my sleep.

There’s a story behind that but I was asleep so I can’t tell the story.

Maaaaaaaaaaan…this is long ain’t it?

Let’s just get to the meat and potatoes of Sunday…

I have the best friends…and I know I already said that.

Barry and Kanika had a house party on Sunday night. Much, much, much drinking ensued. Between the Henny and Cokes, shots of Captain Morgan, Xquizzyt (who came thru with everybody’s favorite Wise Diva) sitting on my lap and fuckin’ FEEDING me a Dorito MUCH to the chagrin of one of the other women that was there…

Hmm…let me tell you about funny.

Xquizzyt, you know I love you, but damn girl…you REALLY made your presence known. This one woman that was there was trying to figure out who X was because she came in, gave me like 6 kisses on my cheek, told everybody that we were getting married, etc. I think she made a few enemies…no lie. Which is why I love her so much.

X, my internet fiancee.

And umm…I don’t remember them leaving either.

Sunday night just made me realize, once again, that the best time you can have at Homecoming is with all of your friends around you. To hell with everybody else, everybody that was there over the weekend chillin’ is exactly who I’d want to hang with. I don’t know what I’d do without my friends, my boys, my homegirls, my peoples. Even the friends of friends. I can have just as much fun with my people as I can have at any club.

And throw in some liquor and its a wrap.

Last lesson from this homecoming that I’ll share….

Don’t go to work drunk.

That shit sucks ass…trust me. Especially when in order to go to work drunk you have to travel from Atlanta, GA, to Washington, DC, and actually GET to work and attempt to look focused. Not. A. Good. Look.

I don’t know how much of this makes sense because I’m not gonna go proofread, but for real…we had a damn good time. To my twin brother Frank White…one more for the books and we got a few more in the pipeline.

Oh…AND…check it. This is why I love Morehouse. I purchased a shirt that says:

HARVARD: The Morehouse of The North.

And fuck you if you don’t get it. We’re arrogant like that…bitches.

Chuuuuch.

Thank you and good night.