25 08 2008

Here are three simple facts that fuck up each and every day of my life:

  1. I am lactose intolerant
  2. Everything that tastes good has milk in it
  3. I have no self-control

For whatever reason, most black people are lactose intolerant. Lactose intolerance is a condition by which you can’t digest certain sugars found in dairy products, rendering your butthole a cannon of unrelenting stank within ten minutes of consuming any of the following delicious foods:

Milk, cheese, butter, ice cream, pizza, Guinness, white russians, cereal, cheesecake, pudding, chocolate, coffee creamer, sour cream (this curses everything from baked potatoes to fajitas), cream of wheat, creme brule, eclaires, custard donuts, and pussy.

Figure 1: Contains at least 40% lactose

Unfortunately, it’s hard to eat anything in an American diet that doesn’t have fucking milk in it, so black people all over the country have had to find a way to deal with the persistent threat of farting loudly and stinkily in public. This explains a lot of negro modes of dress and even physiology. Allow me to elaborate:

Unlike women, men generally enjoy farts. We also don’t like clenching our ass cheeks together* (the standard method of fart suppression) because racist jerks might think we’re preparing for a prison term. As such, we tend to just let the farts out. Unfortunately, unlike normal farts whose timing and force are under the control of the farter, milk farts are self-actualized. They come charging out of your ass when, where, and however hard they want. If you’re not going to clench your cheeks, then you have to find a way to keep the fart from getting to other people’s noses. This explains the popularity of baggy clothing among black men.

Figure 2: It does not, however, explain this shit.

Baggy pants create a neutral zone of air between the asshole and the air used by the general public that’s large enough to dissipate the power of the fart before it osmoses out of the pants. Since farts rise, large t-shirts draped over the buttocks provide a secondary buffer zone that all but eliminates the fart stank before it reaches the nose. A side effect of this is, of course, Stinky Britches.

As for the women, everyone knows that the trademark of the black woman is the big black booty. Where did this come from? It’s actually quite simple. Everyone, regardless of race, has had the experience of holding back a cataclysmic fart. It starts in your middle torso and hurts like a motherfucker, until it plows its way through your colon making for the sphincter (and making lots of awkward noises along the way). Once there, the fart literally lays siege to your asshole, hammering away at the opening like Grond breaking through the gates of Gondor.

Figure : This is exactly how it feels

Only the power of the woman’s cheek clench can repel the ass-ault. Since most black farts are milk farts and, therefore, require extreme effort to hold back, centuries of hardcore cheek clenching have caused natural selection to favor black women with big booties. Smaller bootied women are unable to clench their cheeks as hard, making it more likely for a milk fart (which is intolerably stinky) to escape mid-coitus and send potential mates running for the hills before insemination.

Some asshole at a university somewhere is going to read this blog and actually try to base a thesis on its theories. Jumping Jesus Christ…

* Unless you’re this guy

Essence Magazine

1 08 2008

Last night I went with Shabooty to some random ass concert at Bohemian Caverns in DC*. There were a lot of odd things about this event: the first two singers with voices like long-tailed cats in a room full of rocking chair, Shabooty reminding me of his bizarre attraction to extremely skinny women, girls running around with red flashing LEDs all over their bodies confusing my drunken eyes, and some random dude that kept calling me ‘Earl’.

There was one thing about it, however, that was absolutely fantastic: it was full of black women, and nearly every single one of them was wearing her hair naturally.

Figure 1: This is decidedly un-natural, but you get the idea

There’s nothing better than an oasis of fine ass (literally and figuratively) black women happily embracing their blackness. I was unfortunately pulled right back down into the wonderful world of tacit negroid self-hate when I woke up this morning looking through the Essence Magazine website for King James’ “Do Wrong Man” article and instead stumbled across another article: Sexy Summer Hair.

I could have easily predicted that, of the 26 styles shown in the photo gallery, most of them would feature straight hair. I was floored, however, when I discovered that the article featured NOT ONE natural hairstyle. NOT ONE, DUDE! NOT A SINGLE MOTHERFUCKING ONE!

For a very long time, I assumed that Essence Magazine was a hybrid style/celebrity mag geared at least somewhat toward celebrating blackness. After reading through the hair and several other articles, however, I quickly came to the realization that the purpose of Essence Magazine is to subliminally lull black women into vacuous celebrity worship while abandoning all the trappings of their actual blackness with the exception of their skin color and, of course, Essence Magazine itself.

Warning: The rest of this post is based on no facts in particular.

Essence Magazine was started in 1984 when Bob Johnson skeeted on the back of a white woman. The skeet dripped off her back and onto a copy of Black Enterprise magazine – which 24 hours later had magically, but not surprisingly, turned into Essence Magazine.

Figure 2: Whore.

The magazine then came to life, went back in time, killed Martin Luther King Jr., and started the Watts Riots. It then jumped back into the present, and somehow managed to recruit turncoat negroes to write additional issues of the rag, most of which were dedicated to convincing black women that they were ugly if they didn’t adopt Euro-American hairstyles . Somehow, this continued for several decades until 2008, when Essence decided that it wasn’t making Black people look quite retarded enough.

In order to better explore uncharted territory of self-hate, Essence created what many experts** consider to be the ugliest and most visually confusing website in the history AND future of the World Wide Web. Lebron James saw the website one day, and completely lost his fucking mind.

Figure 3: Lebron attempting to spite Essence, but in actuality supporting it

Essence Magazine is currently lobbying to overturn Roe v. Wade, Brown v. The Board of Education, Lincoln v. Douglass, and Marvel v. Capcom.

Fuck Essence Magazine. That is all.

* This was after getting nicely toasted at Asia Nine. Shabooty, while usually a notorious moocher, definitely came through last night. His boy hooked us up at Asia Nine with a white russian, blue motorcycle, six shots of extremely expensive sake, four incredible hulks, and two red snappers…and refused to let us pay for any of it. We drank all this in under 20 minutes. By the time we stumbled into Bohemian Caverns, I was convinced that I was Batman.

** Me

Skinny Jeans

9 07 2008

Dude, what the fuck?!?!?!?

Figure 1: Fucking sick.

There is no single item on earth more unflattering to the human body than goddamn fucking skinny jeans. They’re worse than empire waist tops, flat shoes, man-thongs (with or without crotch stuffing), Castro hats, and all the shit that came out of the 1980s.

Look at Figure 1 above. If you’re a heterosexual man, you did what we hetero men always do when we see a picture of a woman who isn’t fat: you imagined what it would be like to have sex with her*. Anybody notice any similarities between the emaciated frog-bitch pictured above and, say, any household items you might happen to have lying around?


That’s right fellas – Miss AwkardPants is just waiting to slice your cock off during an imaginary sexual escapade about as enjoyable as having your asshole introduced to the business end of Ron Jeremy’s penis on a hot day. White people have pulled a lot of shit in the past, but one of the most enraging habits they have is to celebrate instead of scorn or apologize for their more annoying and oppressive traits/history/customs/etc. Examples include:

  • Thanksgiving
  • Columbus Day
  • Redneck Culture (remember when trucker hats came back?)
  • Flat asses

The flat asses is where the skinny jeans come in. For the past few years, the bull hormones or whatever the hell else Americans have been swallowing in our incredibly overprocessed food has led a remarkably large number of white women to actually start developing asses. And not the big sloppy trailer park ass that used to be as close as whitey could ever get. No, they were actually developing REAL asses (that never quite approached the best of black women’s asses, but they were still fun to grab, so black men told them otherwise so it’d be easier to sleep with them. White women are surprisingly susceptible to empty flattery).

Figure 3: Gat DAMN

Right when they were making some progress, though, they decided to spitefully wrap a big warm white hug around the pancake ass. Now instead of peeking at an increasing amount of acceptable white booty, I instead find myself cringing at the (uncontrollable and immediate) thought of having sex with razor blades and other sharp objects when seeing some underfed bulimic Kate Moss lookalike struggling not to be blown into outer space by the next stiff breeze.

But wait. Just when you thought it couldn’t possibly get any worse…

Figure 4: BAM!

MALE skinny jeans are the reason I actually started writing this shit in the first place. I was fucking around near Chinatown yesterday and ran into an entire platoon of BLACK DUDES wearing these goddamn pants. I don’t know what it is, but there’s something about a man wearing skinny jeans that screams “I’m a fucking AIDS victim!”

You never see the male skinny jeans wearer by himself. He’s always with an entire flock (I’d say ‘pack’, but that’s a term more manly than these douches deserve) of 90-pound dudes wearing skinny jeans, white belts, hoodies, and Converse sneakers. They look like Emo dudes with a lot less food and a lot more gay, powering themselves up by talking loudly, confusing their eyes with their clashing colors, and flinging their ambiguous sexuality at everybody.

For every guy wearing skinny jeans, there is an angry father somewhere yearning to punch his ‘son’ in the fucking face.

*Get your heads out of your asses, ladies. This doesn’t mean you’re hot, nor is it flattering. This is just our superficial way of deciding whether or not you suck without actually having to talk to you


20 06 2008

Attention Indignant Persians: please read before reading this entry and getting your magic carpet in a knot. Thanks.

The Georgetown Waterfront is one of that only places in DC that doesn’t suck anymore. From March – October, you can hobble your angry ass down to Georgetown Waterfront Park and enjoy drinks outdoors by the water, grab insanely expensive food (with insanely-er bad service) from Sequoia restaurant, and watch scantily clad women walk between M Street and the water while pretending to be indignant about the negative sexual attention they draw to themselves.

Unfortunately, there is one thing about the waterfront that sucks: Persians.

The favorite pastime of the sons of rich Persian oil and IT barons is to get a bunch of their greasy Ferrari-jacket-wearing douchebag friends together, hop on a Sea Ray, and park that motherfucker on the improvised dock in front of the harbor. I’ve included a diagram below to point out the interesting sights you’ll see there:

Figure 1: Click on the image to zoom in

When you park your boat at the dock, you’re within sight of the many women sitting around the bars and restaurants looking for dudes on boats to fuck, but you’re not close enough for them to distinguish your youthful awesomeness from the 50+ year old rich white dudes who’ve also parked their Sea Rays and are gallivanting about in the company of their Stepford wives, Abercrombie sons, and golden fucking retrievers.

So what’s the prospective Persian suitor to do? Blast god awful techno music, of course! Somehow, these sandbags* have convinced themselves that a perpetually alternating woofer-thump and stochattic cymbal is precisely what makes the pussy go “ooh whee.” After all, if it works in porno, it must work in real life. Techno music is so effective at attracting women, in fact, that you never see any women on a Persian boat. This is because their reaction to the electronica, combined with the pungent stank of the Persians’ Sex Panther cologne, has caused all women in the area to orgasm so hard that they literally disappear into thin air.

Figure 2: Persians do not realize this is a comedy

Surprisingly, water-borne Persians are by far the least annoying type of youthful sandbag. That’s because they save their atrocious A-game behavior for the club.

Persians are very easy to spot at a club. Just look for the following telltale signs:

1.) Hair. On a Persian, it will invariably have at least 3 or 4 thousand pounds of gel in it. Nothing drives the ladies wild like a grown man looking like an olive-skinned anime character who may or may not have dynamite strapped to his chest underneath his…

2.) Armani Exchange** Shirt. What better way to say “I’m a pompous shitbrick” than by letting everyone know you paid $60 for a lousy t-shirt? None, dammit!. It’d be rude to actually go up to girls and say “hey, I’m rich. I got a $60 t-shirt”, so instead the Persian takes the humble route and buys the shirt with ‘ARMANI EXCHANGE’ or ‘A|X’ in shiny silver 1,418,071 point font across the chest.

Figure 3: Asshole

This in-your-face fluorescent logo makes it noticeable even in the awesome presence of his…

3.) Jacket of Random Italianness. Girls love Italian shit – sports cars, shoes, handbags, ice – so your Persian ass had damn well better make sure your outfit includes an Italian element. The best way to do this is by wearing a jacket featuring an easily recognizable Italian theme. This is why you see mongoloid sandbags wearing red Ferrari jackets, or red/white/green jackets with an Italian flag and the word ‘Italia’ written in giant retard print across the back.

Figure 4: Asshole, Stage 2

This jacket is never a normal length jacket – it always stops a couple inches above the waist so that a.) it looks like a genuine racing jacket, and b.) it doesn’t cover up the logo on his…

4.) Horrifyingly Expensive Designer Jeans. That’s right folks, only Diesel or True Religion jeans are worthy of encasing the decidedly flat and hairy buttcheeks of the sandbag in their sweet denimy embrace. Wearing anything else would say to the ladies “my jeans cost less than $250, so there’s no way I’d be able to buy you a new set of tits every three years.”

Figure 5: Why would you want pants with a picture of a crane attacking your cornhole?

The sandbag stands tall and proud as the ladies take in the jeans’ fake fade, giant pre-cut holes, and painted-on wrinkle patterns…and they have to practically FIGHT themselves not to jump right on his cock when they see his…

5.) Shoes of Random Italianness. The shoes must always match the jacket in both color and refined sportiness, so the Persian sandbag will be seen wearing some sort of Ferrari-brand Pumas at least 110% of the time. Don’t be afraid if you accidentally scuff his shoes though, because Puma-related homicides are exclusively committed by black people.

*This is what I call douchebags from the middle east.
**I’ll admit that I own a lot of shit from Armani Exchange. But unless you get within six inches of me, you’ll never know it, because I’d sooner die than buy the shit where the AX label is clearly visible

Stupid Fashion Trends

21 03 2008

Fashion is getting more and more fucking ridiculous every goddamn day. We haven’t quite reached the acid-induced insanity that inspired the out-of-this-world fashion trends of the 1960’s, but I’ve concluded that at this point, we’re on a runaway freight train headed right in that direction.

So without further adieu, here is an abbreviated list of fashion trends that MUST STOP before humankind, as a species, is hopelessly lost.


Nothing has made me sadder in recent fashion history than the decline of the high heel shoe. Women everywhere of every age and race are taking up the feminist rallying cry “GOD AS MY WITNESS, MY FEET WILL NEVER GO SORE AGAIN!” and adopting flat shoes.


Figure 1: Yuck

All this is happening at a time when women are demanding their men to be more muscled, more educated, more intellectually curious, and more sensitive to their feelings (all of which make us VERY sore, especially the last one). We’re more than happy to do this, ladies, but at the very least you could throw on some fuck-me pumps that shape your legs and ass into that oh so beautiful contour that fills us with the sexual angst that drives us to throw up a few more bench presses.

Saggy Pants

This has been around for a long time. I’ll never forget when my dad was driving me home from school one day, and on the corner of Pennsylvania Ave and 26th Street SE – right in front of a police station – I spotted a young woman speaking to a young man…whose pants were literally around his ankles. That’s right, they weren’t just sagging and showing his boxers. THEY WERE AROUND HIS FUCKING ANKLES LIKE HE WAS GOING TO COP A SQUAT AT ANY MOMENT. I have never seen my father more angry than he was that day, and this is a guy who blew away a poisonous snake with a shotgun at point blank range to “teach me a lesson”.


Figure 2: Times are hard, and belts are expensive

White people became threatened by this, and many cities have passed controversial ordinances banning the sagging pants practice*. Then someone responded by making faux-saggy jeans. Have you seen this shit?

Some genius decided to get around these no-sag laws by making pants that actually have the boxers INTEGRATED with the jeans. So imagine figure 2, but with the boxers and the jeans being sewn together and, therefore, part of the same garment. They’re pants that pretend to be saggy. I said they’re pants that pretend to be saggy. Did you fucking hear what I just said? Let me reiterate: THEY’RE PANTS THAT PRETEND TO BE SAGGY! THEY’RE PANTS THAT PRETEND TO BE SAGGY!THEY’RE PANTS THAT PRETEND TO BE SAGGY!THEY’RE PANTS THAT PRETEND TO BE SAGGY!THEY’RE PANTS THAT PRETEND TO BE SAGGY!THEY’RE PANTS THAT PRETEND TO BE SAGGY!

There is no cause for optimism about anything, ever.

Bald Heads on Women (who don’t have cancer or some shit)

I’m going to get a lot of flak for this, but I don’t care. Ladies, yall need to grow at least a good 3 inches of hair. Don’t get me wrong – bald heads actually look decent on some women…from the front…in broad daylight. The problem arises when it comes to sexual relations.

If you look at the back of the head of a bald man and a bald woman, you can’t really tell the difference. As you know, black men love doing it doggy style and, well, when you’re going at it with a girl from the back and she has a shaved head, he can’t help but feel like he could just as easily be banging some brolic dude named Jerome.

A woman shaving her head is like a man wearing eye shadow.

demibald.jpg prince.jpg

Figure 3: Same fucking difference

Maternity Tops

I don’t know if these fucking things are actually styled after maternity dresses. All I know is that they make any girl look fat and/or pregnant.

greentop.jpg pinktop.jpg

Figure 4: No.

The two images above are fairly atrocious examples, but the concept applies to any top that cinches just below the boobs and lets the rest of the top fall loosely. These tops say one of three things to a guy: 1.) I’m pregnant, 2.) I wanna get pregnant real soon, 3.) I’m a fat fuck and I think this stupid top is fooling you. If you insist on wearing these tops, then you are dooming yourself to attracting the types of guys who wear…

Excessive Bling


Figure 5: Makes $10 an hour

Nothing makes me laugh** harder than when I see some moron roll up into a club covered in CZs and a bunch of stainless steel…except when I see women actually falling for their bullshit. Women never admit to falling for guys because they’re covered in FUBU and fake ice, but then again men never admit to watching porn, either. We’re all full of shit.

Women have no idea of the time, effort, and expense that men will go through to feign the appearance of wealth for the purposes of attracting women. I know a person who spent months saving thousands of dollars to rent a Ferrari for a weekend JUST to impress chicks at clubs. Women assume men won’t go to these lengths because…women don’t do it. Women are wrong.

Ladies, if you really wanna find out who the well-off men are in the clubs, I suggest the following: ‘accidentally’ spill a moderate amount of alcohol (preferably something that will stain permanently, like a cranberry mixer) on a man wearing a nice shirt, then take careful note of how pissed off he gets. The man’s anger is inversely proportional to his wealth.

For example, if you spill a drink on the dude in figure 5 and he loses it – it’s because he can’t afford to replace the shirt. This is probably a result of poor financial management and limited financial means. But if you spill a drink on him and he doesn’t care, or even laughs about it***, you’ve got yourself a guy who isn’t living paycheck to paycheck

I could go on all damn day about fashion trends, but I’ll end it here. Please feel free to add your fashion pet peeves to the comments section, and render this article complete.

*This and this, however, are perfectly acceptable to them
**This is a video of me in the unused chapel of an old palace in Portugal. The echo in the room was incredible, and I could not resist making as much noise as humanly possible
***He may be clinically insane