"Most times, genius is misunderstood, but understand
You stand under unstable tables of foundation
My true occupation, dissemination of information
Usin' both sides of the brain, and I ain't complacent
Complain when I speak, fuck Priority Records
Like Prince, I'm writin' "slave" on my cheek, cause my kids gotta eat
Meanwhile A&R's sniffin' coke, gettin' kickbacks, fuck that
My written's like Christ wit a cross on his back
I'll breathe a total Black experience on a track
What use to be hot was what a emcee said
Now Hip-Hop don't respect you unless you platinum or dead"

- Ras Kass "Van Gogh"

The most satisfying thing about hearing on almost every news station that "Fahrenheit 9/11" was the #1 movie this weekend in the box office is watching these same dignified news anchors saying "White Chicks" is the 2nd movie on the list without even cracking a smile.

Beautiful.

I am totally digging the amount of discussion that Michael Moore's movie "Fahrenheit 9/11". I don't care if people agree. I don't care if people vehemently disagree. I just love the fact that it has sparked so much discussion, especially among the 24 and younger crowd. For Bush, against Bush, shaved, shit I don't care. Just as long as people start understanding the importance of this November, and every November for the rest of their lives.

I went to a wedding two weeks ago and I'm going to be part of a wedding next month. In August, I'll be attending another wedding. I like weddings. They always bring me back to when I got married. When you get married, you really take inventory in your relationship with your significant other. You question yourself no matter how sure you are, "Is this the right person?" I married my wife for all the right reasons and I can sincerely say that without a flinch. I can see the doubt and concern in the eyes of the bride and groom before the wedding, but it quickly changes to assurance and relief. You know it. They'll be okay. We'll be okay. It's love, ya know?

I walk around life sometimes marveling at all the knowledge I've attained in my 24 years of life. I stand proud and confident in my ways. But knowledge isn't what I'm ultimately after. Wisdom is what I pursue. And wisdom isn't acknowledging what you know, it's acknowledging what I don't know and taking every step needed to acquire that knowledge.

My son is so brutally honest sometimes. I love it. And he means no mal-intention what so ever. I think the term "brutally honest" makes it seem like everything should be sugar coated. Our dialogue with each other is filled with euphemisms, as if the truth will "hurt". Hell, there's even a saying that truth "hurts". But does it? Or are we too proud to acknowledge imperfection?

I hate tabloid tv shows like "Celebrity Justice" and "Entertainment Tonight" because it shows something pretty disturbing about our society. Not only do we put celebrities on pedestals to the point where we need their daily lives spoonfed to us on a daily basis, but we love seeing them crash, burn, and make mistakes. We build them up, then we tear them down. That shit sounds pretty damn demented, so I'm refusing to take part of it. Fuck a celebrity. I'd tell their mama they ain't shit.

I like good music. From Pantera's "Walk", to E-40's "Mustard and Mayonaise" to Nina Simone's "Funkier Than A Mosquito's Tweeter". I like raw breakbeats that hit so hard you can bare fight off the urge to brooklyn rock to it like Jimmy Castor's "It's Just Begun". I want shit that I can just bang my head to with guitar riffs so sharp that they can cut through glass, like Metallica's "One". I listen to songs that can tickle your heart by the time you hear the very first note like Troop's "All I Do Is Think Of You".
We take music for granted these days. It is, after all, the soundtrack to our lives. I can go to music to fill my heart and soul with emotion, or to find something that can articulate my feelings. From politics to partying, there is music for every moment of our lives. We associate good and bad memories with music. It's not coincidence. Music is a gift from God.

I can't stand it when people say that "It's just music." It's not. For the people who devote their lives to their music, it is literally "life". Fuck what your heard. There is a little bit of genius in every musical artist out there who put their heart and sole into their music.

Recognize. Learn. Respect.

No frills. No bullshit.

A conversation with Kool Keith on AIM today convinced me to just say "fuck you" to my hit counter, my comments, and my links. Well, okay. Maybe it wasn't just the conversation with Kool Keith. It was a combination of several things. Kristen over at Madpony decided to hang up the blogging boots for good, even leaving a "goodbye" post to all her "fans". Boo fuckin' hoo. Hell, I didn't even know until KK told me during our AIM conversation. I went over there to see the damage.

Reading through the comments, I was torn. I couldn't decide who I felt worse for. Was it the sorry ass readers who longed for the insight of a girl who's biggest problems consisted of the lack of Lime Diet Coke at her regular soda machine or her lack of money to go to a prom with another blogger across the country? Or, did I feel more sympathetic for Kristen, someone who was so gassed that in an AIM conversation with Muscle68, turned a snobby nose upward and asserted that the popularity of her blog was more than his and Raymi's. She obviously wrote with the sense that she was fulfilling an obligation to her readers. They wanted her to post. They needed her to post. They wanted to live vicariously through the lives of two girls who's dad had the fuckin' ovaries to be referred to as "Dadpony".

But damn, isn't that a shitty ass reason to write? I mean, that's not even about you anymore. This realization made me realize that I put to much stock in the feedback I received from the site. Feedback in the form of hits and comments and links became valuable to me for some reason. As if they validated the existence of my blog. But that's not what this is all about. This is about me. This is about me writing to me. This is about me writing about what's important to me. This is about me getting what I want out of writing. This is catharsis. This is healing. This is therapy. This is me.

So don't take it personally. The links, the comments, the hit counter? That was all cosmetic. Unnecessary. Unneeded. I can't lie an say that my blog was some underappreciated piece of genius like Ridley Scott's "Bladerunner". This blog was never popular. It was never genius. It never has nor will be. But it will still be here even after everybody stops reading it. If you come and read, cool. If you don't come. Cool.

No frills. No bullshit.

I had dinner last week with three old friends from high school. We all met at Applebee's, which was unusually crowded for a Tuesday night because of the second game of the NBA Finals. As groups of people huddled around the 3 or 4 televisions tuned in to the game, the three of us had your typical "catch-up" conversations that included topics such as our current occupations, recent gossip of people we knew in high school, and just over all bitching, pissing, and moaning about how we wished our lives were better in one way or another.

One conversation tangent led me to blurt out, "I fuckin'hated high school." This statement taken without the context of where my mind was at the time could be taken as a blatant lie. Because honestly, I loved high school. I was popular. I had the cute girlfriend. I was the funniest guy in class. I was on the baseball team. I was the student body activies commissioner. I was voted "most spirited" and was even listed as so in my senior year yearbook standing next to a cheerleader. But I look back on those years with a feeling that borders on disgust?

Why?

Well, it's really weird. There was this time in junior high where a lot of my friends turned their back on me, leaving me somewhat outcasted from my regular group of friends. By the time I got to high school, my fragile adolescent ego wouldn't let me come even close to feeling that way again. I literally worked on being popular and well liked. I went out of my way to be funny, clever, witty, and smart. I went out of my way to hang out with people that weren't "my friends", but people I thought could give others the impression that I was universally liked. I chased and achieved status in my high school. But as we all know, high school superlatives mean absolutely nothing.

I wrote once somewhere that high school is a cartoon version of real life. We spend a lot of that time thinking that we know it all, not realizing that we were living in a parody of reality. In high school, I thought I knew everything. I had everything under control. No one could tell me shit. I look back now, about 8 years after the fact, and I think about not only how much I've grown, but also how much I have yet to learn. I look back on high school and I'm almost disgusted by what I held as valuable and all the things I failed to recognize as valuable. I spent over 5 years of my life with my priorities all out of order and I hated my old self for it. Everything I thought was right was completely wrong.

But after I expressed my hatred for my high school years, I had to take a step back and thing about why I said what I said. This past year of college, I've done a lot of reflecting on my life and how much I've learned. I really can't dwell on what has happened in the past, because the past is obviously irreversible. I can only chalk it up as a loss and learn from my mistakes. It was then that I realized that maybe I didn't hate high school so much. And even if I do hate it now, it is only a reflection of my growth in the past years.

We are constantly growing, both intellectually and emotionally. Our priorities should always change, and if you don't look back a few years at the certain things you did wrong, you probably haven't growth enough to realize the errors you've made along the way. I look back on my high school years and I realize that my life was backwards. What was important to me back then really isn't important to me now, and vice versa.

That's okay. Sometimes you have to do some things wrong in order to do some things right.

We ended our dinner with hugs and promised to have a repeat engagement sometime in the near future. I drove home thinking about some of the good times I shared with those friends, and how we've all grown for the good.

Good times, I tell ya. With hopefully more to come.

Five minutes until midnight and I still can't figure out why I'm here.

It's been a long time since I've felt like this. A day in the sun is a day in the sun, but not many people choose to acknowledge the beauty. The horizon may seem cloudy, but we can't stress out about what might come. That's just a waste of time, and thoughts, and emotions.

Stop. Right there. At the period. Take a deep breath. All of us walk around with uneven suntans, but we don't always have to point out our dark sides. Be one one those people. You know, the kind that can enjoy what's on the table. The kind that doesn't cast shadows like a storm cloud. The kind that can illuminate a room with their presence and a heart with a simple smile. It doesn't take a lot, to be quite honest.

Do we take things for granted? Well, a lot of us do. But not many of even know what we have until they stop and acknowledge that things could be a lot worse. These people who walk around with their teeth clenched tight and their emotions clenched even tighter? Yeah, it could be worse for them, too. But they'd never know it. Because they're really not aware of what they really have. You want to know who knows what he really has?

Vanilla Ice.

I don't think he takes ANYTHING for granted these days.

We like to look reflect on our days as cowboys, carelessly roaming our Ponderosa without a worry in sight. We had people eating out of the palm of our hands as they hung on every over-annunciated word we spoke. Good looks are a dime a dozen but charm and charisma are things most people wish came in air-tight jelly jars. Our smile? Golden. Hollywood status. Camera's loved us and people loved us even more. Who needs a camera when our gait alone was cinematic? Life was easy.

And those were the days. No scrutiny. No second guessing. No trying to read between the lines or uncover secret motives. Life was simple and all we had to do was wave, smile, and live another day. It's kind of crazy how things can change. It's rough going from beloved to beloathed. But that's the nature of the beast. That's what we sign up for. There is no grey area in what we do. Either you do it or you don't.

So we've come to the end of the road. The part where we always thought we'd ride off into the sunset, just like one of those old cowboy films. We crack a smile at the camera, hop on our horse, say one last cliche line, and fade to black. But we see that that is not the case. It's hard to end this in the storybook manner. But it's over. Just like that. And it's kind of hard to rest in peace when peace was the last thing on our minds.

Michael Moore's new movie "Fahrenheit 9/11" comes out on June 25. It was the winner of the Palme D'or at this years Cannes Film Festival. Although many people may remember him from his outburst at the Oscars speaking out against the Bush administration, many people have not watched any of his previous films including "Roger & Me" and "Bowling For Columbine".

A lot of people have discredited Moore with the obvious fabrications, bending of the truth, and sometimes the blatant lying that he has done. But there is no denying that he provides a different perpective than the spin-doctored bias in the US media. This alone is what draws me into his work. I watched "Roger & Me" in high school, but I think it's safe to say that I really didn't understand the weight of what I was watching. I watched "Bowling For Columbine" two years ago, and I was absolutely blown away. A different and new perspective on a world I thought I had figured out got my interests stirring.

For a good portion of my life, I've watched TV with little to no skepticalism. Especially the news. The news was news and that's all I really had to think about. It took it at face value never really looking deeper into why things are portrayed the way that they are in the media. I never took into account the many people who would gain (or lose) from how something was presented. I never understood how news coverage can influence the train of though of an entire society. With "Bowling For Columbine", I witnessed the part of the news that's not covered. It was all the stuff I wanted to wonder about but didn't have the mind to.

But it's different now. There are people like Moore who are taking risks to portray our country in a way that was not and isn't deemed as acceptable. People see him as a threat to everything this country is about and is taking advantage of unfortunate situations such as the war and the Columbine incident for his own personal gain.

But wait. Isn't that what ALL forms of the media do? Why is Michael Moore being criticized and chastised for what he does? How is what he does different than what CNN, MSNBC and all these other news entities?

Well, unfortunately, it's not. It's not different. Everybody has something to gain from something and we can not trust any one news source. We cannot judge our countries standing in the world because we are biased by our own opportunites to gain and lose.

You know the deal. I'm not into politics. But whatever. I don't like anything political nor do I like discussing it a lot. I don't make friends based on political lines. I don't shit on people who hold different political values. I just vote and have my say and pray everything turns out okay.

Bottom line, I just want the truth. I use this figure all the time:

[Michael Moore]------------[The Truth]--------------[US Media]

It's out there. Somewhere. Give me a heads up if you find it.

It takes a different kind of asshole to post a blog while sitting on the toilet. But at this moment, I'm doing just that. This whole wireless Internet looked like something I can get very used to. With the purchase of a new notebook computer on Memorial Day (thanks to a relatively low price and two very generous rebates offered by CompUSA and HP), my suspicions were confirmed.

I had a pretty excellent weekend for once in a long time. After finishing my workweek at 5am on Sunday morning, I went home and slept for a good hour and a half until my wife woke me up so we could get ready for the Giant's game at SBC Park in San Francisco. Sunday's game had a special "On-Field Photo" day, where about 3000 fans who had tickets for the day's game were able to go on the field prior to the game and take pictures with their favorite Giants.

It was a really good time. It was my 2nd On Field Photo Day in two years, so I wasn't as shy asking the players to stop and take a few pictures. It was my wife's first time and I think the sight of seeing men in uniforms made her wet. She was so excited to stop the players for a picture, then after taking the picture she'd proceed to ask me who she just took a picture with. It was great. Interestingly enough, about every picture she took with a player looked like a boyfriend/girlfriend shot. Funny stuff.

That night, we came home and I bitched about how little sleep I got and my wife bitched about how she thought she was sunburned. We did find out that night that we were able to watch the fireworks displays that Six Flags Marine World (the theme park where I met and worked with my wife 6 years ago) puts on from time to time over Lake Chabot. It was a pretty decent sight just below the horizon where you could see the remnants of what was a beautiful sunset. The scene was so great I had to take a picture of it and it was also a great way to end the day. That night's sleep was much needed after what seemed like three days wrapped into one.

Memorial Day itself was rather uneventful. Other than my impuslive purchase of a laptop, we decided to have a family night and enjoyed it at home. Best day of the weekend, easily.

I don't play that shit.

I don't give a fuck if your life sucks.
I don't give a fuck if you think my life sucks.
I don't give a fuck if you take pictures of yourself with a cock in your ass.
I don't give a fuck about how many hits your blog gets.
I don't give a fuck about who you met.
I don't give a fuck about where you live.
I don't give a fuck if your dumbass worries about being recognized from your blog.
I don't give a fuck about the weather in your area.
I don't give a fuck about what your kid said.
I don't give a fuck about what you bought.
I don't give a fuck about what you wore.
I don't give a fuck about who you fucked.
I don't give a fuck what you did yesterday.
I don't give a fuck about your vacation.
I don't give a fuck about how high you got or how much alcohol your drank.
I dont' give a fuck if Tony Pierce linked you.
I don't give a fuck if you got molested.
I don't give a fuck if he hit you again.
I don't give a fuck when you live.
I don't give a fuck when you die.
I dont' give a fuck about you.

I don't give a fuck whether or not you give a fuck. You know why? I don't need to you validate my existence. I can only hope that the feeling is mutual. But honestly, I don't give a fuck. Fuck a blog. Fuck you.

Take that shit personally.

I woke up this afternoon and flipped on the television to the Cosby Show. Dreary-eyed, I half-watched the episode where Dr. Cliff Huxtable took Rudy, "Buuuuud", and a bunch of other kids to a gourmet restaurant to have some gourmet burgers. "Mmmmmm, burrrgeers." Inspired, I decided to take a trip to one of the better burger joints in town before I went to work.

I as I pulled up to Bud's Burgers, I could already smell the aroma left by a day's worth of cooking burgers and frying french fries. I parked in the empty parking lot, jumped out of my car and headed to the restaurant. Well, maybe "restaurant" isn't descriptive enough. You see, Bud's is really located in a glorified shack. The place is about the same size as a quaint one bedroom apartment and the dining area is no larger than your average living room. I walked in and noticed that the brown wooden tables are still set up exactly as I remembered. I looked up to the high vaulted wooden ceiling that probably measures about 20 feet at it's highest point. The Bust-A-Move arcade is still located adjacent to the walk where the entrance was. Directly behind it is an old Flintstones egg dispensing machine, exactly like the ones they had in Toy R' Us's across the nation circa 1985. Next to that was your typical "love meter" that measures your libido for 25 cents. Bottom line, the place was pretty shitty compared to the Pot Belly Burgers and Nation's of this world. But you should know the rule by now: The shittier the place, the better the food. Warning: This rule strictly applies to authentic Mexican food and burger joints.

As I ordered, I couldn't help but notice all the little things about the restaurant that I became very comfortable with back in high school. Bud's was the typical hangout spot for the me and the rest of the varsity baseball players at my high school. Regardless of whether we won the game or not, we were all able to go to buds and just talk. Sometimes it was just two of us, and sometimes there were 9 or 10 of us. It was a place to unwind and forget about any type of resposibility. We talked openly without having to worry about reprecussions. Sometimes I would look more forward to the aftergame meeting at Bud's instead of the game itself.

Being in there gave me an eerie feeling at first, but the place offered a sense of nostalgia that was both refreshing and relaxing all at the same time. When I got my order, I asked for a ketchup bottle, just like I did back then. As the young lady handed me the bottle, I felt the same greasiness on the bottle that I felt back then. I sat down and squeezed about a cup of ketchup on the wax paper covering my plastic orange tray just like I did back then. And for the first time in a while, I just sat there alone with just my thoughts and my memories and enjoyed my food.

When I finished up, I threw away my trash, put my tray in the same old place right next to the spot where I left the ketchup (in it's proper place as well). I said thank you to the young lady who served me my food as I walked passed her while she mopped the floor. She smiled back and I almost uncontrollably cracked a smile as I approached my car. It was nice to spend some time in a place that I associate with such good times. Good memories stay with you forever, you know?

It was a beautiful day, that's for sure.

Okay, this is the last straw. Parents are fuckin' up. It's officially official (with a stress on the redundancy). I've been saying for years that even though our children are obviously over-sexualized by the media, parents need to take responsibility for their children and raise them correctly. This is not a product of the media. This is not a product of anything other than parents (or parent) not teaching a child the difference between wrong and right. As basic as the concept may seem to us adults, it still isn't happening in today's homes. I mean, WHAT THE FUCK?

I'm almost not even shocked. I was chatting with Leah the other night and she was telling me how her friend or cousin or somebody was a kindergarten teacher, and how she was appalled to hear about kids making out in class. I can't believe that this isn't national news.

Oh fuck it. I lied. I'm shocked. This shit is crazy. I'm going to go reread Revalations to see if this 5 year old dick sucking is in there. Are you ready to die?

(Props to my boy Anthony for the link.)

Damn, this one sucked....click only if you're REALLY bored. And if you can't sleep, you might want to click this too....

I've been getting the feeling that I've been getting hits from people who've accidently wandered onto my site in search of something completely different. Instead of finding what they were looking for on the World Wide Web, they unfortunately stumbled onto this piece of shit. I decided to take a look at my referrals in my lame hit counter to see who was coming from where and why. To my amazement, I found this:

And as my wife knows, I hate leaving people disappointed. So I've decided to help people out. I will give the people what they want. You're searching for it? I can help you. Come one, come all!

Let's start off with #1. We have someone that has searched for "fat kirsty alley picture". We all know Kirsty from the "Look Who's Talking" movie series, "Cheers", and more recently on "Veronica's Closet". I did a search on google and I came up empty. So, I have to disappoint the fans of the new and improved fat Kirsty Alley. No dice. But I promise that this will be the last time I disappoint those in search of Utopia on the Internet.

#2 in our diagram shows that someone is looking for the first name of rap star, Chingy. Well, I won't leave you Chingy fans hangin'. Chingy's real name just happens to be Howard Bailey Jr. That's some shit right thurr. But since you're here checking out my site for Chingy shit, let me put you up on some knowledge: Chingy is wack. Go listen to some real music instead of puttin' money in the pockets of a weak ass rapper. I know I'm here to help the needy, but you need to open people's eyes sometimes. People get caught up in that TRL/106 and Park hype and start wildin' out. But I digress.

For numbers 3, 4, and 5, we have a group of people searching for "guys jacking off pictures". Well, I've been there. It's late. You haven't had any lovin' in a long time. You're home with nothing to do but surf the web for pictures of guys jacking off. It doesn't hit any more rock bottom than that. But I'm here to help you all out. Here is what you've come for. When I say I'll deliver the goods, I'll deliver. So for all of you guys and gals looking to getting into some great pictures of guys jacking off, here you go. It's on the house...

Was it as good for you as it was for me?

I remember an old Saturday Night Live commerical skit that featured Kevin Nealon and Victoria Jackson sharing the most intimate of moments sitting on a dual toilet seat. It was so memorable because I felt that it literally is a very personal and intimate moment that most don't share with anybody else. I don't think there is any other time where a human is so vunerable as when they are sitting on the toilet releasing a bowel.

There is nothing more personal than the time spent sitting on the toilet and taking a dump. It's probably the only thing I can be doing except jacking off where I would be really embarassed if my wife walked in on me. I mean, this is the same women who picks my whiteheads and has seen my penis up close and personal. But I am still embarassed when she comes into the bathroom while I'm dropping the kids off at the pool.

Isn't it kind of odd? I mean, we all do it about once a day. It's part of our everyday lives and our fuctions as a living organism? So why does it seem so private and taboo? Why is it so disgusting to talk about? Why are we so sensitive to something that all animals do?

The answer?

We are in love with taking a dump. Dropping a load is associated with such relief and pleasure that it, like sex, is something that we choose to keep private and to ourselves. Think about it. Our pants our down around our ankles. We're sitting down, concentrating hard on the task at hand. Hell, some people read or smoke to keep their minds elsewhere. Afterwards you have to clean up, but some people refuse to wash their hands.

DOES THIS NOT SOUND LIKE SEX FOR SOME PEOPLE?

So that brings me back to that old SNL skit. A couple. Sitting together at the toilet. Sharing a "moment". It's really not that far off from reality. Sharing the a moment where you two drop a bomb together really is the next level in an exclusive relationship. Can't you see that?

Okay, maybe it's just me. I don't know. Forget it. Forget I said anything.

Tales Of A 9th Grade Nothing

I was pleasantly surpised last week when I received a phone call on my cell phone from an old friend. It's been almost two years since I've seen her, and just as long since I have spoken to her. It was admittedly refreshing having such a long "catch up" conversation with her because we were such good friends in the past. This led me to think about how our relationship came to be the way it was and why she was and is so special to me, even if we haven't been speaking as regularly as I'd like to. So here's that story. It's not funny nor ironic. It's just something I like reminiscing about. Great friends are made of this.

We both attended the same elementary school, but it wasn't until junior high when I met her. I was in 8th grade and she was in 7th. Her older brother was in the same class year as my older sister and they were friends. So I knew about her before I really met her face to face. What started out as an odd and awkward (I remember showing up at her house once unexpectedly with my sister and she ran to her room and refused to come out)friendship developed into your stereotypically junior high friendship where most of our interaction happened on the phone. I'd talk to her about the girls I liked. She'd tell me about the guys she liked. We just talked, ya know?

9th grade rolled around something weird happened where I became very attracted to her. Not the petty "God damn she's gorgeous" attraction typically defines girlfriend/boyfriend relantionships at that age. It was different. I was so attracted to her mental and I didn't know how to deal with it.

My first reaction was to automatically tell her how I felt, not even thinking about the possible disruption it would cause to our existing friendship. So during one of our late night, post homework phone conversations I just blurted it out. She was literally shocked. She was admittedly a "late-bloomer", and I could tell that what I told her made her completely uncomfortable. It was obvious that she wasn't ready to be with me or anybody else for that matter. So I took a step back. She ended up explicitly stating that she wasn't ready for anything at the time, and I understood. Interestingly enough, we maintained the same "friendship" we had before I dropped the bomb on her.

A few months rolled around and we're still friends. One day during one of our daily 3 hour long phone conversations, she blurted out words I remember 'til this very day: "I'm Ready". Mind you, at the time Tevin Campbell had an album out called with the same exact name, an album that either she bought me or I bought her, hell I can't remember. Well, it was super cliche and I swear to God I'm not making this up. So, that nightwe were officially boyfriend-girlfriend in every sense of the word in junior high.

Now, like I said before she was a late bloomer. By the time we got "together", she was my 4th girlfiend and although I wasn't having sex, I was a little more advanced on the physical aspects of boyfriend-girlfriend interaction. My idea of what a boyfriend-girlfriend relationship entailed was slightly different than hers. I can remember how awkward it was that first day back at school after we were official. We just stood there. I was holding my backpack. She was holding her's. And we just stood there. With zero to talk about.The bell rang and we had to get back to class. And I extended my arms to at least get a hug. She kind of half reached out and we gave each other the worst hugs in the history of hugs in the galaxy. I mean, I've seen armless people give better hugs.

But I didn't really think much of it later that day. After school, she came up to me and gave me a letter and slide it into my pocket and told me to read it later. I got home that night feeling pretty good. I had a girlfriend and I loved talking on the phone with her. Unusually, she didn't call me when she normally did, so I gave her a call. When she answered, she seemed hesistant.

"Umm, is everything okay?" I asked.

"Uhhh, yeah. Did you read the letter I gave you?"

"Aww, no. I totally forgot about it."

"Well, take a look at it. Look, I gotta go now. I'll talk to you later."

"Umm, okay."

"Bye."

"Bye".

So, I ran upstairs, picked up my jeans and grabbed the letter out of my pocket and read it. As I read it, my heart immediately sunk. It was a break up letter. A fuckin' breakup letter. I couldn't believe it. It basically said something along the lines of "I guess I'm not ready" type stuff, and the most awkward hug ever pretty much sealed the deal. Pathetic, I know.

Well, even after all that we still remained friends through high school, where it culminated in me pretty much organizing her 18th birthday celebration ceremony on the fly a day before it happened and having it executed flawlessly. She was beautiful that night and I'll never forget it. That night, I couldn't help but think about her being the first girl who I knew I liked (dare I say "loved") for everything she was as a person, not strictly on what she looked like. I remember just standing there watching the event unfold and practically kicking myself that I let her get away. She was obviously a catch but was taken by another guy at the time. That, along with all the obvious personality differences among other things made me realize that she was never meant for to keep, but was meant to meet. She was the girl that taught me to look further than the exterior and find someone that can stimulate you not only physically, but mentally as well.

She's a special woman, and with this phone call last week told me that she was getting married. I could be nothing but happy for her because I know she is capable of finding a great guy, and I also know that she's going to make this guy very, very, happy.

We meet people for a reason, ya know? And if you notice that your paths keep crossing in a positive manner, God has blessed you with their presence for a reason. So, this is my official "thank you". Thank you God for allowing me to meet such a special person. Thank you to Che Che for being that special person.

I hope you read this. Congrats on the engagement and I wouldn't miss your wedding for the world.

It's been 9 days since my last blog, and quite honestly I haven't felt like writing. In addition, there have been numerous newsworthy occurrences throughout the past week that one thousand and one other blogs have already covered. So I never really felt the need to say anything. And most importantly, life has been relatively uneventful and I'm very happy, so there really isn't anything to bitch about. But there are a few things I'd like to talk about.

We have the beheading of a contractor by supposed Al-Quaeda militants. Then shortly there after, the CIA conspiracy theories regarding the beheading. Either way, it fucking sucks. Let the man rest in peace for cryin' out loud. I don't have the nerve to even watch the video myself. I just don't see any reason to, ya know?

What else? Ahh,yes. Latoya was given the boot on American Idol. People are screaming racism. People are screaming controversy. I don't give a fuck. It's whatever. People really need to take American Idol for what it is. It is NOT a talent show. It is NOT reality television. It is something that someone thought would bring in ratings. And you know what? They've succeeded. The biggest slap in the face to any aspiring musical artist that is known as American Idol has crumpled more panties in a bunch than your grandma. I don't even watch it and I'm writing about it. Genius marketing strategy.

On a similar note, I've seen commercials on WB regarding a spoof on American Idol where they purposely select the unskilled and untalented, which obviously equal ratings. As if we weren't sick enough of UC Berkeley's William Hung, WB has decided to bring forward hundreds of wannabe singers that "haven't had any professional training". They even have a fugazi ass Simon to berate the "contestants".

MTV, the real leader of the Free World, won't be left behind. They are also promoting an upcoming series with the same "fake reality" concept. Since it's obvious America is no where near sick of Punk'd,Fakin The Video picks up the ball and hobbles with it. Will I watch it? Probably not. Anyone who knows anything knows that Sci-fi Channel's Scare Tactics is better than everything else in the prank/hidden camera genre. Just the fact that MTV is behind such a show is enough to convince me it will suck.

So here I am once again, sitting on the fence in regards to reality television. I don't watch a lot of it, but I can't stop talking or complaining about it. Maybe our society is hooked on watching "reality" because we're all filled with shit in our own lives. I mean, we might as well live vicariously through the "real" lives of reality show cast members, right?.

Well, if that's the case, I got first dibs on Puck.

I've been on this weird ass introspective tip lately and fuck me if I'm going soft. Shit ain't the same anymore. I don't walk around mad at the world anymore because the world hasn't done shit to me. Lady Luck was my bitch for a minute, but I got too old to depend on her shady ass. No need to bend her over because she is no longer in service.

I ran into this cat at Longs the other day that I used to want to beat the fuck up. He was still short and walked with the same limp. Yup, that same annoying ass limp. He nodded "wussup", so I nodded back. He extended his hand and I gave him a pound. At first I didn't recognize him, but he obviously recognized me. So I say the usual "Ay, mayne. Whatcha up to these days?" Turns out he's doing the school thing. "Right on", I responded. As he walked away, I realized, "What the fuck am I what up to this bitch?" 5 years ago and I probably would have slapped the fuck out of him. Now I'm trying to "catch up" with him, as if I really give a damn. Good lawd, I'm gettin' soft.

Y'all see the "intelligent" Joe all the time. All this smart talk and this "deep" stuff? That's not me on the surface. The surface is what most see. You can find me at the local basketball court, talking using the latest slang and uncontrolled profanity. And I know most of y'all don't want to see me drunk. There's nothing like a drunk fat ass Filipino dude describing his favorite sexual position. I got a darkside like an uneven suntan, and that shit ain't pretty.

Fuck this soft shit. I'm gonna go listen to some Tupac and knock some old grandma down a flight of stairs with a dead baby seal filled with white spotted owl feathers.

I used to have this recurring nightmare when I was younger. Maybe from when I was 8 to about 14 years old. It didn't happen all the time. Only once or twice a year, but it was just frequent enough for me to realize that it was reoccuring.

In my dream, there was just a large white marble. Like, huge. Like, ginormous. And as the dream when on, it would slowly start to move. I couldn't see myself in the dream, nor was the point of view from my vantage point. I just had this feeling that I needed to stop it from moving, maybe through sheer will. I felt helpless against this marble and it was totally out of my control. It wasn't until recently why I realized that that marble, of all things, happened to be my reoccuring nightmare instead of your usual "oh shit, someone is coming to kill me" type nightmares.

I'm positive I have control issues. I mean, not just control of people or situations, but control of everything in my environment. When I was younger, I used to count the rungs on the footboard of my bed. Over and over again, I'd count them with my feet until I fell asleep. I have to drive everywhere I go because I cannot stand not being at the steering wheel. I am totally anxious on airplanes because I fully understand that my life is in the hands of a man(or woman) that I don't even know. In my first few years of college, I used to go to sleep watching either Happy Gilmore or Pulp Fiction because I knew those movies so well, I knew I wouldn't miss anything if I happened to fall asleep watching them. This shit is almost scary.

I don't think it's really that bad, nor do I think it affects many people. It's become a character trait of mine and I'm sure it's something that my wife is well aware of by now. It just made me giggle the other day thinking about my reoccuring "nightmare" and how silly it might sound to other people, but in the context of my life it makes perfect sense. I don't think many people are as introspective as I am. Maybe the amount of time we spend reading other peoples' blogs could be spent on more worthwhile things, such as reading your own blog and getting to know yourself.

Chatter Box Chatter

The Friends series finale was on tonight, and as expected I didn't watch it. I can't say that I'll miss it now that it's gone. I've watched a few episodes through out the years. Maybe enough to count on my fingers and toes. I can admittedly say that I did laugh the few times that I did watch it. But I can't say I remember any particular episode. I can remember the naked neighbor. I can remember Joey's "How you doin'?". Now that I think about it, I remember that one episode where Ross dammit, Chandler and Phoebe pretend to be attracted each other until Chandler realizes that he can't do it and finally admits that he loves Monica.

Wait, is that recollection even correct? Ah, who gives a fuck? It's over. Boo hoo. Either way, it will always play second fiddle to Seinfeld in the world of "Must See TV". Hell, I'd rather watch reruns of Married With Children than Friends.

And on the same wavelength, I can only think of a few television series' that I was sad to see go. The one that stands out most in my mind is my all-time favorite sitcom, The Wonder Years. As I know I've mentioned before, I related to Kevin Arnold more than any other fictional character on television. The girlfriend. The hard-nosed father. The annoying best friend. I WAS Kevin Arnold. But I don't think a good portion of America related as well as I did. I can't find reruns of this show anywhere.

Nickelodeon was pretty good at showing reruns a few years back, but have since cut it out for their new Nick At Nite line up that includes Cheers, Roseanne, The Cosby Show, etc. Bitch ass ABC Family used to show it at Noon during weekdays but have since replaced it with a less enjoyable episode of Full House. I mean, sure. Capitalize on this whole Mary Kate and Ashley thing. But dammit, don't do it at the cost of dropping excellent, and dare I say, classic television.

But classic is after all classic. It's in the past. There really isn't anything out there that I can say I've latched onto in the same manner. I know I haven't. I know a lot of people felt the same way after the Seinfeld finale, which I have to mention ended on such an anti-climactic note. The finale of Friends is probably going to be the same for their die-hard viewers. But that's it. There really isn't anything there anymore. Other than Frazier, can you think of a "spin-off" that came even close to matching the success of it's predecessor? The Jeffersons? Laverne and Shirley? Not quite. I guess they can always enjoy the reruns and their Season DVD's. I just hope I don't hear about people crying over this shit.

It's not that serious. I mean, it could be worse. Imagine the last season of Saved By The Bell with a bunch of late 30 somethings. *Wretch*

I feel uncomfortable speaking about the racial dynamics in American society, but I've been reading a lot about racial-inequality and examining how I feel about ethnicity and living in a predominantly white society. We no longer live in a world of segregation where black people cannot ride in the front of the bus or where the Japanese and Koreans are treated like shit working in the agricultural fields of California. But there are many racially charged issues that do affect minorities that people refuse to acknowledge. It may not be government instituted programs or racially based hiring practices. It is accepted trains of though that not many people choose to see. We as Americans are in denial of the fact that although the institution of blatant racism may not be as prevalent as in the past, it is still strong enough to be oppressive.

This is not a call for help or a call for action. This is acknowledging something that has been here for years and still remains 'till this day. As a minority, living in a white society is hard.

I used to hate my skin. I was so fuckin' dark. My hair was too black and boring. My nose was so flat. I used to spend hours a day pinching my nose so that I could have a more prominent and "acceptable" nose. I remember in 3rd grade when Gregory Roberts called me "fish lips". I wasn't even mad at him. I was mad because I looked into the mirror and I saw what he saw. I wasn't what was considered "attractive". I wasn't like him: blonde hair, blue eyes. He was the epitome of what was widely accepted as "good looking". I felt the same way. TV at the time wasn't as nearly as diverse as it is now (even though it still isn't as diverse as it could be). There was no one on television that I could identify with. Everything, whether if it was on television, the movies, my classmates, all of them agreed that white was beautiful. Go to every church and Jesus was white. Every respected major government official was white. Everything and everybody that is white is "right". So I'd look at myself in the mirror and know that I was not "right".

I see it everywhere in my culture. If you spend any time watching Filipino television, you would realize how many stars strive to take on the traditional Western ideas of beauty. The dark Filipino is looked down upon as a savage. The half-white half Filipino mestizo is looked upon as beautiful and star worthy. It is not unusual for Filipina women to put astringent on their faces to "lighten" them up or to bleach their hair into a disgusting orange in order to whiten themselves up. You live in a self-deprecating mode like that and you're bound to cause some long lasting effects within your culture. You spend enough time shitting on yourself and the next thing you know you're wallowing in shit.

This self-deprecating train of though has followed Filipinos (and other immigrants, for that matter) to the United States. New Asian immigrants are forced to speak English with their untrained tongues and are chastised for their accents. They are called "FOBS" and made fun of for holding on to aspects of their original cultural. Hell, I did tons of it in jr. high and high school. We are so content and proud of our American culture when it is a culture that would rather do without us. From the start, we have been fed by our parents, by our friends, by the media, and by society as a whole that anything that deviates from this white society is undesirable. Guess what? People are still buying into it. It sucks because it's been like this for so long and no one wants to acknowledge it. They would rather believe that thanks to the civil rights movement of the 60's, everythign is just fine and dandy. Well, it isn't.

I used to be irritated by black militants who were still complaining about how racist American (and Western) culture still is. I was a doubter. I wasn't convinced that black people were having a hard time stopping cabs in New York City. I wasn't convinced that black people were being blatantly overlooked in job hirings. It wasn't until I realized how black people, and minorities in general, are subjected to so many levels of discrimination, from not only others, but from within their own ethnic groups. It's funny, because most of the people who say that the days of racism and discrimination are over are white people. They laugh and scoff at those who say they are being treated unfairly because of their ethnicity. "Not in today's society" These are the same people that believe Affirmative Action is unneccessary. They wouldn't understand how young black kids are treated unfairly in class and are not given the opportunity to flourish because of teacher's prejudice. The chances are stacked against so many minorities. Some people would never understand that. Unless you have walked in their shoes, you cannot truly understand their plight. It would be similar to a man saying he understands the pain in childbirth. He would never really know.

This isn't a "hate whitey" post. It's not about that. It's acknowledging the fact that American society still has a long way to go in creating a truly equal society. It's going to take years upon years to deprogram all the hate and the bigotry and the prejudice that has brainwashed the American society for hundreds of years. This isn't"playing the victim". You know how much I hate "victims". But if you see this as me playing the "victim", you're caught in the web as well. It's there, yo. Believe me. It's there.

But yeah. Whatever.

I would suggest downloading this song and listening along while reading the words. I don't fully agree with what Ras Kass says, but a lot of it is for the most part, true. I know I've suggested this before, but oh well. Open your mind a little, even if you are offended.

Artist: Ras Kass
Album: Soul On Ice
Song: Nature of the Threat

Let freedom ring with a buckshot, but not just yet
First we need to truly understand the nature of the threat
And a pale man walks in the threshold of darkness
Roughly 20,000 years ago the first humans evolved
with the phenotypical trait, genetic recessive
Blue eyes, blonde hair and white skin
Albinism apparently was a sin to the original man, Africans
So the mutants traveled North of the equator
Called Europeans later, the first race haters
So here's the Devil's alpha to the beta
Cause history's best qualified to teach one
Quoting German philosopher Schopenhauer
"Every white man is a faded or a bleached one"
Migration created further mutation
Genetic drifts, evolution through recombination
Adaptation to the climate
As the Caucus Mountain man reverted to that of a primate
Savage Neanderthals, until the late Paleolithic age
That's when the Black Grimaldi man came
With the symbol of the dragon, fire and art
Check cave paintings in France and Spain to the Venus of Willendorf
Around 2000 B.C. Southern Russians migrate in small units
Those who travel West populated Europe
Those who went East settled in Iran, known as Aryans
1500 B.C. some crossed the Khyber Pass into India and
created Hinduism, the first caste system, the origins of racism
A white dot on the forehead meant elite
The black dot - defeat; untrustable, untouchables
They wrote the holy Vedas in Sanskrit
That's the language that created Greek, German, Latin and English
Now the Minoans around 2000 B.C.
Starts on the island of Crete, in the Agean Sea
The Greek culture begins Western Civilization
But "Western Civilization" means "White Domination"
Myceneans learned from Kemet, called Egypt in Greek
It existed since at least 3000 B.C.
Creatin geometry and astronomy
This knowledge influenced Plato, Socrates and Hippocrates
Cause Imhotep, the real real father of medicine
Was worshiped in Greece and Rome in the form of a Black African
The word Africa comes from the Greek "Aphrike"
meaning "without code"; the word philosophy means "love of knowledge"
Stole from first man, Greek power expands
The first Greek fraternities band
The word gymnasium is Greek for "naked"
This was the place where adolescent boys were educated, and molested
This was accepted because Greek culture was homosexual
For example, Sappho trained girls on the island of Lesbos
Hence, the word lesbian (Ay let these dumb motherfuckers know)
December 25th, the birth of Saturn
A homosexual god, now check the historical pattern
December 25, now thought the birth of Christ
Was Saturnalia, when men got drunk,
fucked each other then beat their wife
Fact is, it was still practiced, til they called it Christmas
So put a gerbil on your Christmas list
The Hellenistic Era, Alexander the Great
Conquers all the way to India leavin four successor states
By the Fifth century B.C., R.O.M.E.
succeeds to be the conqueror of Egypt and Greece
But had the threat of the Black Phoenicians in Sicily
The Punic Wars began 264 B.C.
The Black general Hannibal and Carthaginian Peace
In 146 B.C. Carthage fell after a six-month siege
Rome sold every citizen to slavery
The first genocide of history
And more bisexuality in sight; Julius Caesar was known as
"every woman's husband and every man's wife" (BEOTCH!)
Spartacus Revolt, a slave rebellion that lost
Where 6,000 slaves was nailed on a cross
Cross? Aw, shit! Jesus Christ! Time for some-act-right
Christians get your facts right
Cause Christ was not his name
That's Greek for "One who is anointed"
Yoshua Ben Yosef was his name, do Christians know this?
So who do you praise, do you know his name?
Or do you do this in vain?
Accepting the religion they gave slaves to behave
Peep the description of historian Josephus
"Short, dark, with an underdeveloped beard was Jesus"
He had the Romans fearing revolution
The solution was to take him to court and falsely accuse him
After being murdered by Pilate how can it be
these same white Romans established Christianity
Constantine would later see the cross in a dream
In his vision, it read "En Hawk Signo Wonka":
"In this sign we conquer" - Manifest Destiny
In 325 he convened the Nicean Creed
And separated god into three
Decided Jesus was born on December 25th
and raised then on the third day is a myth
Plus to deceive us
Commissioned Michelangelo to paint white pictures of Jesus
He used his aunt, uncle, and nephew
Subconsciously that affects you
It makes you put white people closer to God
(Yo, 'The Man' got game like a motherfucker!)
True indeed, fuck it, Jihad
In the eight century Muslims conquered
Spain, Portugal and France and controlled it for 700 years
They never mention this in history class
cause o'fays are threatened when you get the real lesson
Moors from Baghdad, Turkey threatened European Christians
Meaning, the white way of life; hence the Crusades for Christ
On November 25th, 1491
Santiago defeats the last Muslim stronghold, Grenada
King Ferdinand gave thanks to God for victory
And the Pope of Rome and declared this date to forever be
A day of "Thanksgiving" for all European Christians

.. Now listen, when you celebrate "Thanksgiving"
What you are actually celebratin
is the proclamation of the Pope of Rome
Who later, in league with Queen Isabella
sent Cardinal Ximenos to Spain
to murder any blacks that resisted Christianity
These Moors, these black men and women
were from Baghdad, Turkey
And today, you eat the turkey, for your "Thanksgiving" day
as the European Powers destroyed the Turkeys
Who were the forefathers of your mothers and fathers
Now fight the power, you bitch-ass niggaz!

Now around this time, Whites started callings us Negroes
That's Spanish for black object meaning we're not really people
but profit, and the triangle trade begins - they seize us
Queen Elizabeth sends the first slaves on a ship named Jesus
Stealin land from the indigenous natives
Gave them alcohol to keep the Red Man intoxicated
Whites claim they had to civilize these pagan animals
But up until 1848 there's documented cases
of whites bein the savage cannibals, eatin Indians
In 1992, it's Jeffery Dahmer
They slaughtered a whole race with guns
Drugs, priests and nuns
1763, the first demonic tactic of biological warfare
As tokens of peace, Sir Jeffery Amherst
passed out clothin and blankets to the Indian community
Infested with small pox, knowin they had no immunity
Today it's AIDS, you best believe it's man made
Cause ain't a damn thing changed.. let me explain
Now since people of color are genetically dominant
and Caucasoids are genetically recessive
and Whites expect to be predominant, meaning survive as a race then
they simply must, take precautions
That's why they're worried about their future now
Cuz by 2050, almost all the Earth's population
will be brown, then black, so understandin that, whites counterreact
(I'm sayin.. man.. them fools
ain't nothin but a teaspoon of milk in the world color majority)
So they created a system
to force blacks into an unnatural position
That re-enforces the position of natural inferiority
In addition, created guns and developed the ethnocentric view
that God justifies every fuckin thing they do
Condition people to perceive whites' culture as civilized
and every other culture considered primitive - not true!
Racism is the system of racial subjugation against nonwhites
in every areas of human relation
Entertainment, education, labor, politics
Law, religion, sex, war and economics
See blacks were 3/5ths of a man with tax purposes intended
You think you're Afro-American?
You're a 14th amendment and a good nigga
Jews don't salute the fuckin swastika
but niggaz pledge allegiance to the flag that accosted ya
They never teach about the break of islands like Jamaica
But before slaves came here whites would take a
pregnant women, hang her from a tree by her toes
Slice her stomach with a knife
and let the unborn baby fall to the flo'
And stop an unborn child in front of all the slaves
to inbreed fear, so they'd be scared and behave
and not rebel more
Understand all whites must be perceived as potential predators
I paraphrase historian Ishakamusa Barashango
"Understand that regardless of the lofty ideas ingraved on paper
in such documents as the Constitution or Declaration
the basic nature.. of the European American white man
remains virtually unchanged".. so check
This is the nature of the threat

Reality TV is a mockery of reality. The fucked up thing is that reality is a joke. It's a farce. Fake. Phony. Similar to how pornos fuck up people's perception of what sex is really like, reality TV has pretty much fucked up our perception of what life is like. "The Real World"? In the real world, we avoid people we don't really like and we pay rent. You want to know what a real "Survivor" is? A single mother with 2 jobs supporting 3 children. And fuck an American Idol. Fuck an American Idol in the ass (Don't get any funny ideas, Clay). Because we need to stop throwing out "idol" as if the mere talent of being able to sing makes you someone to look up to.

Then you have a myriad of reality dating shows. What the fuck happened to the good old days when you could just meet someone through an Internet matching service and elope to Vegas and have a Star Wars themed wedding? But seriously. People do not meet like this. Most people don't meet each other and fuck on the first night. Most people wouldn't stick around for the second half of a horrible date. I had a personal friend that was on Elimidate last year, and he told me that they encouraged him to enbibe alcohol well BEFORE the date even showed up. Hmmm, for some reason, they didn't show all that in in the broadcast. It's hard to believe that these type of things happen in real life all the time, but if it happens on a show over and over again, people start thinking "man, what the fuck am I doing wrong ?". This is obviously bullshit.

"Average Joe"? "The Apprentice"? "The Bachelor"? Will this shit ever stop? Reality TV is now an 18-wheeler with no brakes. But the bullshit does not stop at what we are forced to watch. It is also in the shit we're forced to hear.

Art does no longer imitates life. Life is imitating art in many areas throughout our society. Look at Hip Hop and Hip Hop music. Disenfranchised urban (and in a lot of cases these days, suburban) youth are now emulating who? Disenfranchised youth. These rap artists who are being exploited by the music industry are forced to churn out negativity, hate and misogyny. Where is the wisdom? Where is the leadership? It's non-existent. But let's not blame Rap for negatively influencing our youth, because although artists and record labels do need to take responsibility for their actions (something that will NEVER happen), parents need to start taking responsibility for their fucking inability to raise their children properly.

Is it not common sense that Chingy isn't exactly the best role model in the world? I mean, shit, rappers are not role models. You and I know that shit. But have you see how kids are falling for this shit? I know people who don't vote, but will defend 2pac like he's his son. Shit is kind of twisted. Go to the mall and tell me how many kids you see with a throwback jersey and some Urr Force 1's. For fucks sakes, yo. What' is going on around here? Music is supposed to be the soundtrack of our lives, but I don't' know whose lives some of these muthafuckas are rapping about.

What's fake is fake and what's real is fake as well. Face it. We're taking steps towards a "Brave New World" and most people don't see it.

Word to the man behind Ultrablognetic, not only for taking time to bless this blog with his presence, but for being one of the initial driving forces early in my year long blogging career.

I dangerously flirt with stagnancy. As I stop to smell the roses, sometimes I pull up a chair and rest a little longer than expected. Ya know what I mean? If you stay still long enough, the world around you moves so fast you become entrenched in the illusion that you are still moving. You know that feeling. You're at a stoplight facing uphill and the car next to you begins to slowly inch forward, giving you the false sense of sliding backward in reverse. You quickly apply the brakes even harder, only to realize that the light turned green while you were starring at the couple crossing the street at the adjacent crosswalk.

Shit's been like that lately. With all this new found responsibility living in our new apartment, I stopped to take a good look at where I've come from, where I am, and where I want to be. Unfortunately, I've been stuck in this contemplative rut for the last few weeks, and I need to get off my ass and do something. I've worked pretty hard to get where I am, both scholastically and professionally. At least part of me would like to think so. The other part keeps telling how lazy I am and how slowly I choose to develop.

An older classmate told me the other week that she thinks I'm going to be somebody special. She told me that she sees qualities in me that would make me more successful than I could ever imagine. She cited the ideas I come up with and the amazing way I carry myself at such a young age as proof. I quickly dismissed it because for one, I don't take compliments very well ( a product of my low self-esteem), and secondly, because I 've been secretly telling myself that for the past 24 years of my life. But for the first time, someone other than my mom and myself said something positive about my future in terms of "potential".

But I think "potential" is a tricky term. Fuck it. Potential is a bullshit term. Potential only sets you up to fail. I was always the kid "with potential". In Little League, I was billed as a potential high school and college caliber athlete. So much for that. In high school, I had the potential to be a university scholar. So much for that, too. You never hear of anybody living up to potential. You always hear about the kid who never fulfilled his true potential.

So that's what's motivating me now. I'm tired of being the kid with all the potential. I'm tired of measuring myself against things I'm supposed to do. I'm just going to do it. It sounds corny, I know. But I've spent so much time in my life dwelling on what I've failed to accomplish. I never stopped to think that a lot of these goals are still attainable. We cannot afford to be stagnant in a dynamic world. Some people get stuck in a rut and give up and live their lives asking "What If?" You NEVER hear anybody say "What if I try to do it again?"

Couldn't hurt to try, eh?

Hi. My name is jurk storr malone. Joe was like prolly smoking crack a while back when he sent me an e-mail letting me know to post crap on his blog whenever I wanted. Well little did he know how literally I would take him on both ends of that statement.

One of the things you have to know about me, cuz, shit, I’m like, super famous, like, more famous than that backup dancer on the Pringles commercial, is that I take my fame very seriously. In fact, I’ve got like 30 different agents working on 85 different deals on 7 continents. Literally, in like 3 hours, I have to be on a corporate jet for Doritos to land in Antarctica and do a commercial for skyyy vodka with that really famous penguin from that crappy adam sandler movie. Where he’s with some chick that can’t remember shit from the day before. His name’s koo-koo-bird.

Ok, no it’s not, I totally lied.

Another thing that you should know regarding my fame is that I hate to talk about it. I’m very very very shy in regards to getting recognized in public all the time as a result of my super-famous blogs ultrablognetic & a dog named clipper. I mean, shit, and don’t even get me started on if I’m ever in japan or korea. They go absolutely insane for me over there and one time I even had to escape out the window of a 37th floor hotel room with only a few towels and sheets tied together cuz this porn star wanted to rape me in front of this reality show director. I was like, hell no. I don’t go out like that, nah mean? It’s just not done.

A rule that I always go by for if you want my autograph is you have to send me a letter or telegram at least 5 years in advance. Since I’ve only been famous, well, this famous, or, like, you know, sean penn famous, for like 3 and a half years, I have yet to sign an official autograph. Sure, there are lots of copies of my real name signature, but only like 3 people in the whole negasphere know that, and I sure as hell ain’t telling you. no, I mean, you will not find a copy of a signature reading “kool keith el otro” no matter how hard you look, and if you do, it’s fake, and even if you put in a request today, I’m not starting working on the ones that are 3.5 years old for like another year and a half, and that’ll take me at least 6 months to get through with my schedule.

Oh and just one more thing, I’m the only person in the world besides sofia coppola that knows what bill murray said to that chick at the end of lost in translation.

And I’m not telling. Ok, well, I did tell joe, but he’s been sworn to secrecy. Just know that it involves Ronald mcdonald, and leave it at that. don’t try to guess any further into it, cuz I can already tell you that you’re way off base.

Video killed the radio star...

...and in turn forced music into slow, almost unnoticeable, downturn in quality.

Think about it. There are only a few people on this planet that can become successful in the music industry. They must have the "total package". They must look great, fit into the mold of what is currently popular, and have an ounce of actual talent. It's a sad fact, but absolutely true. The best song writers and the best music producers and the biggest labels all get behind the artist that will sell the most records, not the artist with the most talent.

I think the "talent" portion of the job title "talent scout" should be dropped completely. They aren't out there scouting talented kids. They are looking for the best looking kids. The most marketable kids. Could some of them be actually talented? Of course. You have your Norah Jones' and your Alicia Keys. You have your ?uestloves and Stevie Wonders. There is no denying their talent. But then you see these other artists with marginal talent but a very marketable look and/or image. You know who I'm talking about. The Britneys, the Chingys, and the Fred Dursts of the world. It's a sad thing.

I think we're being robbed of the best music our people have to offer because music is no longer an art. Music is a business. They refer to it as "The Industry" where the dollar rules and talent is merely icing on the cake. The good thing is that people are beginning to see though the bullshit and are turning to the underground. Small clubs and other hole-in-the-wall establishments are seeing an increase of people who are tired of the Top 100 music people like Clearchannel and Viacom are flooding our ears with. I'm personally sick and tired of the radio and haven't listened to the radio on FM for a good 5 years.

Don't get me wrong. Is there good music on the radio? Yes. Could it be better? Oh yeah. Are we getting shut out of a lot of great music? Hell yes.

I was thinking the other night about how a lot of Americans don't' vote. I can't really state the actual statistics, but it's safe to say that there are 3 groups of people who typically vote:

1. The ones that do it because they can.
2. The ones that do it because they want to change the world.
3. The ones that do it because they are fuckin' old and have nothing better to do but fuck up the lives of youger people.

The scary thing about all this is that the percentage of actual voters for each group increase significantly as that list goes down. But that's a different story all together.

So why don't people vote? I honestly think it's because of two things. For one, people have lost complete faith in the voting process. I mean, let's be real here. Dubya didn't even get the majority of votes last election and he still won. That shit is crazy, and quite honestly could make someone just throw their hands in the air and say "fuck it". I know I've been teetering on the edge at times, but I still think my vote counts towards something.

The second reason is completely different and is maybe a testament to the quality of life here in the US. People are simply content with their lives and feel no need to change the status quo. I mean, look at the type of feedback restaurants get. The only time they get feedback on their quality of service is when the service is shitty. If the service is just enough to keep a customer satisfied, they wouldn't hear a single thing. Not a complaint nor praise. So maybe this isn't such a surprise.

There's a lot of things in our country that need to change, but unfortunately a large portion of (voting) Americans are afflicted with indifference. Not so much that they don't care, but because they don't feel the need to care. Millions of Americans have flocked to suburbs and gated communities to feel safe, but in turn have isolated themselves from the world that affects the majority. These are the people who vote. They vote to keep their lives the same. If someone proposes to put a basketball court in their neighborhood, they head to the city council meetings to voice their opinions. Basketball courts = urban, and urban = black. And they can't have that happening in their neighborhood. It would destroy their feelings of being safe. But they see a proposition on the ballot that would cut public school funding to make up for a budget deficit, and they just be happy their kids are in private school. Most of these voters aren't looking out for the good of the country and the people in it. They are voting for themselves to keep their shit safe, not ours.

My last blog was about not being a victim. This sounds like some corny Goonies speech, but I really don't care. This election, we have an opportunity to shape what the world is going to look like in the next 10-20 years. I'm not going to stand around and watch shit change without my having my say, no matter how insignificant it may seem.

Damn, I just stopped to read this and I feel pretty lame. Back to pretending to work.

I fuckin' hate the "victim".

When I'm really bored at work, sometimes I take a look at the newly published blogs on the left side of the Blogger homepage. A lot of them are teeny-bopper-that-strayed-a-little-too-far-from-Xanga websites with a bunch of cool-but oh-so-unnecessary features like a javascript fade-in or 5 different tag boards. A lot of these blogs are also teeny boppers and adults alike complaining about absolutely everything possible. Tell me if these sound familiar:

"Oh my parents are such assholes because I came home late and they grounded me. They are so unfair."

"My job sucks and my boss sucks I don't get paid enough. When will I get what I deserve?"

"I hate my economics professor. He wouldn't let me turn my term paper in late."

"I hate the American Government. That's why I'll never vote."

I read this type of shit everywhere. On message boards, on blogs, etc. Tons of people complain about everything and show little to no effort to either take responsibility for their actions or take action to change the status quo. Most of the time, I see it from kids who blog incessantly about how unfair their parents are, then go on to write about their new car that the same parents just bought. But it's not just kids. Americans everywhere sit on the sidelines and complain about how dumb President Bush is and how he has manipulated the system, but will refuse to show up at their precinct when November rolls around. If it's not one thing, it's another. Responsibility seems to be very slippery for some of these people. I have zero sympathy for these types of self-inflicted "victims".

We as individuals are ultimately responsible for what we do and how we feel about things that happen around us. People need to accept the fact that they have a responsibility to themselves and it is them and only them that can help. They cannot place blame anywhere but on their own shoulders. This victim shit has to go, man. Be proactive. Take some control over your feelings and your life in general.

As if the "Toxic" video wasn't enough to convince you, Britney Spears is too fuckin' much. You know, I'm all for ass and titties, but this shit is too much. Now I can go on a whole tirade on how she is the true American Idol for millions of little girls and how she's feeding to their already oversexed lives. Or, I can go another route and say how she's completely biting Madonna's shock/sex style that defined her career for the better half of the 80's and early 90's. But, I won't do that because that wouldn't get anything done. I decided to leave a few messages on her phone and give that bitch a piece of my mind:

*beep*

Yo Britney, it's me. I saw the pictures of that shit you pulled off at your last show. Come on, now. We all know you're hot. We all know you're sexy. But shit, leave that porno bullshit in the bedroom. You already have guys jacking off to your videos. Do you really need guys jacking off at your shows? Holla back..

*beep*

*beep*

Britney, it's B again. Yo, sorry for the harsh words earlier. I know you should be comfortable with your sexuality. You're a grown ass woman now. It's just sometimes I get jealous. You're not the same anymore. First it was the drinking. Then the smoking. Now it's the random dry humping. I don't know if I can take it anymore. Call me back..

*beep*

*beep*

Brit. It's B. Just caught "Toxic" on MTV for the 3rd time this hour. Needless to say, I have a towel and two socks that smell like bleach now. You need to kill this sexy shit. All my Dungeons & Dragons online friends laugh at me on a daily basis. Not because you don't talk to me but because of all this raunchy porno shit. I've become a joke. Please stop avoiding my calls...

*beep*

*beep*

Okay, fuck it. Britney. You're a ho. Look at you. First you're selling Sketchers and now you're dry humping a gay Tito Ortiz lookin' muthafucka on stage. I've had it. If your career does not cumlinate with you having sex with Vanilla Ice, consider yourself a failure. You are a disgrace to the real sluts of the world. Now eat a dick, bitch.

*beep*

Last week I went over to the local batting cages to take a few hacks. I brought the usual: my 13 dollar bat I felt like I stole of eBay last year, my mismatched Franklin batting gloves, and memories of the many baseball seasons of my past.

I miss it. I can't lie. Early Spring always get me itchy not only for the new pollen in the air, but the oncoming baseball season. I played organized baseball for a good 7 years of my life. It was a huge part of my life and was one of the few things that truly made me happy. I was really good. I mean, I may have not been the most skilled or the strongest, but what I lacked physically I made up for in knowing the game. I was a student of the the game of baseball. One of the best compliments I ever received was from my high school pitching coach. He told me that my decision making skills were far beyond the scope of most high school athletes. Baseball was not only a physical game to me, it was also a cerebral game. The position I played, catcher, allowed me to control the game. My decisions allowed me to control where a pitcher threw the ball. This dictated how the defense would align itself. I was at the helm of the team, but it was rarely acknowledged until my coach handed out that compliment. I missed all that.

But what I really missed is just hanging out with the guys and playing a game. There was nothing like it. Baseball practices around the world start off the same way: playing catch. As simple as catch is, it was must more than just tossing the ball back and forth. We joked, laughed, and gossiped about nothing. Bus rides were the best. My first freestyled rap lines were spit in the back of a bus on a trip back from Napa. Just little things like that make me miss the "Baseball Is Life" time of my high school years.

After I graduated high school, I learned quickly that college level baseball was well above my actual skill level. I never really "quit" the sport, I just stopped due to circumstance. I was a freshman in college with new responsibilities. Looking back, I could have walked on and at least tried out, but I was too scared of rejection. I always excelled at all levels of the sport, and I had finally met my match (so I thought). No need for the humiliation, ya know?

The first Spring without baseball was rough. I'd drive to the UC Davis campus and walk to class. Masochistically, I'd walk by the baseball field and see all the guys warming up. The smell of the freshly cut grass taunted me but I still made the walk every day. Now, years later, the thought of actually playing again is long gone. Now I resort to reliving memories by hitting up the batting cages, take some rusty hacks at the ball, and walk away sweaty and tired. This day at the cages last week brought back some of these feelings when I had a conversation with a guy hitting in the next cage.

As I finished a round of swings, the guy in the next cage asked me, "Who do you play for?"

"Uhh, nobody."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I haven't played organized ball for 7 years."

"Wow. I thought you played still because you really have a nice swing. You should think about playing again.."

The comment floored me. I didn't know what to say. He went on to explain that he played for an adult league. He was a little older than me and he told me to consider joining a league similar to his. Honestly, I haven't really though of playing again. Now all the old feelings are coming back. The excitement of Spring crept its way into my soul and I'm really contemplating training to make a comeback next year. Not to A ball or AA ball. Hell, not even a high or mid level adult league. I just want to go back and play catch. I want to go back on the diamond to smile and have fun. All over again.

We finally got our landline installed. One more week until the DSL comes through. Good news? Maybe. Maybe not.

The last few weeks without the Interent have been great. My wife and I have spent a lot more quality time together, typically having dinner around 10:30, which is about an hour after she gets home from work, and talking. Since I started working back in October, we really haven't had a lot of time to just talk. Most of the time, we'd have a little chit chat before we scrambled to have sex since the combination of her work and school schedule, my work and school shedule, her period, and my son being awake made it difficult for our sliding windows of opportunity to coincide with one another. The combination of no Internet access and our son's more reasonable sleep schedule (10-8 instead of 12-10 when we stayed with my folks) has widened these windows of opportunity for both unadulterated sex and pre and post pillowtalk. I realize now how I was truly missing out on quality time with my wife wasting time playing online poker or chatting with friend I chat with all the time.

DSL comes in exactly 7 days. I'm almost positive that I won't be using it as much as I used to.

I KID YOU NOT......PLAY M.A.S.H.

Thanks Nancy!

If you were to ask my son to tell you a secret, he would lean in close to you and whisper, "Monkeys eat bananas". It's kind of funny if you ask me. But it brings up few interesting points. One of which is that we almost always see stating the obvious as being "funny" or "cute", when in most cases the obvious answer will solve most or your problems. The other interesting point is that most secrets are usually not productive in any manner and we are probably better off just keeping these things to ourselves.

Did that makes sense? It shouldn't have.

These Breakdancers Are Everywhere

Stick Em Up

Steak and Blow Job Day

I haven't been getting much sleep lately. We moved into our new apartment last weekend, and as comfy as it is I have to admit that I haven't' gotten quite comfortable. I'm sleeping in the same bed, but the room is a stranger. My buttchecks have yet to contour to the curvaceousness of the toilet seat. The carpet does feel good on my bare feet, but I am still accustomed to walking gingerly on my tip toes across a cold hardwood floor to make some breakfast in the morning. Shower curtains are a new concept since I've spent most of my life showering next to a closed sliding door.

Some things, though, have completely sucked. For one, we have no phoneline. Apparently, the previous tenants just happen to switch their phone carrier to one other than SBC, my preferred phone company of choice. They also forgot to turn off the service. Since the line is still live, SBC cannot set up a phone line for us. For this past week, we've been dealing with SBC and our landlord in an attempt to get this straightened out. We were told by the complex engineers that the problem would be fixed by this past Saturday, but unfortunately I was unsuccessful because the problem has still not been fixed. That problem lead to MY main issue:

NO INTERNET.

Now, I had DSL at my parent's house for a good part of the last couple years. Without a phone number, I have no way to check if my phoneline has DSL available. On top of that, since the phone is out, we cannot even use dial-up service. I seriously cannot believe I just came to terms with the fact that I will be going back to dial-up. I need a shot or nine of rum....

There are some good changes that I can get used to. Now that my son sleeps in a different room, I can come home and unwind watching tv with the volume up. The expansive walk-in closet provides enough room for my clothes, my wife's clothes, and a gang of our shoes. I do, though, have to admit that I have left about 70% of my closet intact at my parents' house, along with about 30 pairs of shoes. So maybe this "pro" is a little premature. Regardless, we have tons of more space.

But the icing on this cake is our freakin' couch. Our new Durapella micro-fiber couch with an attached chaise is easily the biggest hit with not only my family, but the 15 or so guests we've had come through this past week. I spent a pretty penny on that bad boy, but so far it looks to be worth every penny. I'll take a picture of it eventually.

BTW, spent a lot of quality time with Ryan last weekend. Whatever he tells you about me? Don't believe it. It was 10 dollars.

A few more notes from the mind of the smartest idiot you'll ever know....

Every time I step out of the shower, I look at myself in the mirror and wish I bought my wife a smaller vibrator.

The only reason why people are against Gay marriages is because they are looking at the term "marriage" in the spiritual and religious sense, not the legal. Call it "Legal Unions" and 50% of these people against Gay marriages would shut the fuck up. Last time I checked, our government separates church and state.

Let's face it. There should be penis size restrictions included next to some of these Kama Sutra positions. Some of that Lotus shit makes me feel like I need a bottle of Extenze.

The only real status that matters is the status you hold among the people you love.

I'm not sure if I should attribute the fact that I have never gotten into a fight to my ability to avoid violent situations or my inability to protect myself from any type of violent action.

I don't have big hands, but that's okay. You know why? Because they're perfect for holding my dick.

I wonder if people put as much effort into deciding what local officials to vote for as they do in selecting our Nation's president. My guess is that they don't. Pretty pathetic if you ask me.

Free healthcare sounds like a good idea until people realize how shitty service becomes when you get something for free. Do you see personal shoppers at Goodwill? And if there were, would you take their fashion advice?

I don't think there is any situation more uncomfortable than watching parents beat their children in public. I wouldn't even flinch at people having sex in public, but that child beating shit has to stop.

It blows my mind that commercials for medications that help suppress adult ADD are longer than 10 seconds.

My uncle died when I was in 12th grade, and I was one of the pall bearers. Three of the other 5 pall bearers were friends my uncle met at the local senior center. All of them were in their late 60's, early 70's, Filipino, and veterans of the United States Armed Forces. Although I did not know them personally, their stories most likely very similar to that of my uncle. They probably enlisted in the US Armed forces during World War II and helped fight Japanese soldiers off their invaded home islands. They've probably consumed a generous amount of alcohol and smokes their fair share of cigarettes through the years which has resulted in high blood pressure, respiratory problems, and other major health issues that have aged their physical appearance 10-15 years faster than their chronological age. Years later, they joined their children who earlier immigrated to the United States in search of opportunity and the "American Dream". I know this story may be very familiar to others.

During the few times I saw my uncle interact with these men, I couldn't help but think of these men as people who used to be filled with pride and walked with confidence. They had since then been reduced to joking, arguing, interacting like children. Sometimes they would be drunk, curse constantly, and laugh louder than they probably realized. It irked me sometimes because I was taught to respect your elders, but in their current state there seemed to be nothing to respect. All they could do was hang on to past glories. I didn't have the full picture, but from what I saw bothered me.

I was even more annoyed when I realized what lead to my uncle's death. He was a heavy drinker, and his colon cancer was the result. My dad told me stories about my uncle's days as a "big shot" on the streets of Manila. He described him as a punk. Someone who resorted to violence as the only means of problem solving. Many nights he would drink and smoke far more than any man should. He went on to separate from my auntie, my dad's sister, and have children with another woman. He wasn't exactly a model citizen. I wanted to feel sorry for him being in such bad health, but it was the result of bad decisions. I was met with mixed emotions upon his death.

It wasn't until the day we lay my uncle to rest that I realized everything that I didn't see earlier about my uncle and these men, his friends from the senior center. There was one single moment that moved me and pretty much solidified my my feelings and emotions I have towards my uncle, his friends, and the military in general. As they lowered my uncle down, the three men stood tall and saluted my uncle. In an instant, the three men I saw as drunken, arguing children transformed men that were dignified and men of stature. I was overwhelmed by the amount of dignity and respect these men held for each other. The amount of unconditional respect each of these former solders' hold for each other is virtually unparalleled in American Society. They understand what it is like to put your life in another person's hands and it was then that I realized that I am in no position to pass judgement, not only on these men but on anybody I encounter.

There is no time to dwell on the negative. Celebrate the positives in your life before it's too late.

My damn sister keeps sending me forwards...

25 signs that you've grown up:


1. Your house plants are alive, and you can't smoke any of them.

2. Having sex in a twin bed is out of the question.

3. You keep more food than beer in the fridge.

4. 6:00 am is when you get up, not when you go to bed.

5. You hear your favorite song on an elevator.

6. You watch the Weather Channel.

7. Your friends marry and divorce instead of hook up and break up.

8. You go from 130 days of vacation time to 14.

9. Jeans and a sweater no longer qualify as "dressed up."

10. You're the one calling the police because those damn kids next door won't turn down the stereo.

11. Older relatives feel comfortable telling sex jokes around you.

12. You don't know what time Taco Bell closes anymore.

13. Your car insurance goes down and your payments go up.

14. You feed your dog Science Diet instead of McDonald's left overs.

15. Sleeping on the couch makes your back hurt.

16. You no longer take naps from noon to 6PM.

17. Dinner and a movie is the whole date instead of beginning of one.

18. Eating a basket of chicken wings at 3am would severely upset, rather than settle your stomach.

19. You go to the drug store for ibuprofen and antacid, not condoms and pregnancy tests.

20. A $4.00 bottle of wine is no longer "pretty good stuff."

21. You actually eat breakfast food at breakfast time.

22. "I just can't drink like I used to," replaces, "I'm never going to drink that much again."

23. 90% of the time you spend in front of the computer is for real work.

24. You drink at home to save money before going to a bar.

25. You read this entire list looking desperately for one sign that doesn't apply to you and can't find one.