This is a Roy Ayers mixtape of the highest order. Me describing it wouldn’t do it justice, so I’m just going to give you the tracklist and the download link, so right-click to download.
Roy Ayers Tracklist
1. We Live In Brooklyn
2. Pretty Brown Skin
3. Red Black & Green
4. Giving Love
5. Show Us A Feeling
6. Everytime I See You
7. Love Fantasy
8. The Boogie Back
9. Life Is Just A Moment Part 1
10. Running Away
11. Heat Of The Beat
12. Don’t Stop That Feeling
13. Fire Up The Funk
14. I Wanna Feel It (I Wanna Dance)
18. Slow Motion
19. Love Is Love
20. Everybody Loves The Sunshine
Looks like your boy CRYM decided to make a real mixtape, forget that Garageband sh*t. Listen here, but be warned: I’m white.
Rush Limbaugh, known for recently attacking Michelle Obama for (GASP!) telling people in the midst of an obesity epidemic that we need to start eating healthier, giving suggestions for healthier eating ,and for schools to CONSIDER adopting healthier school lunches. SO of course his natural racist reaction is to say she is a socialist, community organizer, and probably a Martian. After being trashed for being a prick, which is nothing new, he then comes out and says this bullshit here:
“Some people are suggesting that my comments were below the belt,” Limbaugh said. “Well, take a look at some pictures. Given where she wears her belts, I mean she wears them high up there around the bust line. Isn’t just about everything about her below the belt when you look at the fashion sense she has?”
Soooo, you fat no tie wearing sexually harassing bastard has a modicum of women’s fashion sense eh? Then explain this picture of your Republican darling Sarah Palin AND her daughter.
Get the fuck outta here son.
The close to DOA tablet from Motorola may just have been given a small spark of life. After Verizon was bombarded with complaints about the fact that if you bought an off-contract Xoom for $800, (nearly $275 more than an iPad), you also had to buy at least one month of a data plan to unlock WiFi. Pretty much everyone knew this was BS and complained from the jump, on top of the high ass price it charged for the tablet. But, Verizon has relented and now you can buy the Xoom with 3G and WiFi both unlocked from the jump. Me, on the other hand, I’m waiting for the $600 WiFi-only version, if I even get one, because I’m still on the fence about dealing with Motorola’s hypocritical business stance and locked bootloaders.
Welp, softjunebreeze poisoned my mind with this video last night, so I feel its only right to share it with the rest of the populace. It’s directed by Eric from Tim and Eric Awesome Show that used to come on Adult Swim, so you can just imagine the fuckery that is going to happen in this video. Actually, you can’t. You really can’t.
Also download this 757 mixtape, bring you the best of the 757 in Virginia, like Missy, the Neptunes, Aaliyah, Timbaland, and others. It goes hard. I’ve been bumping this all damn day. Link and direct download after the back cover.
Happy Valentine’s Day everyone. Have a great evening all the main chicks and to all the side chicks that celebrated last night with a box of chocolates, a rose, and some half-way decent dick (gotta save up energy for his main chick tonight), you might want to rethink that log, and better luck next year. For all those celebrating and those who aren’t but love a good mix, here are a couple to get you in the mood or just clean your house to.
This one is brought to you by @softjunebreeze on Twitter. It’s called Earsex. It goes pretty hard, I must say.
Then of course, there is mines. Lot of jazz, old school, and new school, melded in a way to get your engines going. It’s an iTunes playlist so make sure you import it. It will say Valentines Day, and of course I put the incorrect year in Spanish trying to be fancy and shit. It says 2008. Clearly I’m wrong.
So…yeah. The 80’s and early 90’s were a crazy time. Crack just came about hardcore, Kris Kross had niggas wearing clothes backwards which meant taking your pants damn near all the way off just to pee, Vanilla Ice got hung by his ankles off of a balcony by Suge, Fresh Prince had that one song, and this shit right here:
Is it just me, or does she seem like a ballerina who just got finished watching Krush Groove and decided she was going to make an instructional video?
The best part is when she says, “People ask, what will I do if hip-hop goes out of style? Hip-hop isn’t a fad, it’s a mindset.” Well she hit that on the head, but let me tell you, if what she put on her video is her mindset, she will be teaching that kind of hip-hop in Buzzard Nuts, Arkansas to people who don’t know better.
The summer of 2010, I learned a lot about people, myself included. It was my seventh summer attending Camp Chi (which now serves to me as an acronym for “Crappy Hebrew Institution”), and I expected a laid-back four weeks of doing whatever the fuck I wanted whenever the fuck I wanted, as I had the year before. However, thanks to a trifeekta of Judaism, smelly morality-infused administration, and newly instated blocked mandatory programming, I was denied that privilege.
The primary source of my summer misfortune was a cancer named Jeremy. Jeremy was on the high-functioning (relatively speaking) end of the autism spectrum, so while he could speak intelligibly and control his actions, he wielded an impenetrable shield of moral sympathy which exonerated him from any blame for anything he did. Equipped with this massive boon, an equally massive 250lb (or as he would put it, “I’m only toounderdtwennyfivepounss”) frame, and all the confidence his big ol’ straining heart could muster, Jeremy soon became as intolerable of a burden on my whole cabin as he must have been for his parents to unleash him on the Chi premises. Like King Midas with a touch of shit, Jeremy (pictured below) proceeded to ruin everything.
Every meal, two people were selected from each cabin to refill what are essentially small serving troughs of food when it ran out, whereas in the past, whoever finished the last of the food would go get more. Chi administration deemed this procedure unfair to fat fuckers and banned the “kill it, fill it” rule, as it was so called. This meant that every single meal, Jeremy would ravage the serving bowl continuously, leaving two cabin mates on their feet the whole meal. In a single day, Jeremy ate enough calories to equal the energy of a small star; Michael Phelps would be impressed. We, on the other hand, were disgusted and frustrated, but it didn’t end there.
I had bought and brought a hammock for my cabin mates and I to use as a place to relax, unwind, and hopefully hook up with bitches. Everyone in my cabin chipped in (hammocks are not cheap) except, of course, for Jeremy. Even so, he claimed that it was his to use as much as the rest of us. The hammock is now ripped in 3 places despite being made of parachute material and stained thoroughly with the greasy residue of epidermal condensation.
His personal counselor (pictured below in a brief montage in a batman costume amongst teenage girls) was of no help at all, partially due to the fact that he involved himself in a questionably sexual but unanimously inappropriate relationship with a 15-year-old girl who resembled a frog, and refused to intervene whenever Jeremy was being too overbearing, loud, obnoxious, unsanitary, defiantly nude in the cabin monopolizing of conversations with “Jeff Dunnum (Dunham)’s the best!”, etc. After I had him fired for disgusting and ineffective conduct, Jeremy’s behavior only worsened, turning from annoying to hostile and violent.
One day, he tried to drown a kid in the lake. Another, he punched a kid in the face for juice. He would incessantly ask the two kids that brought guitars if he could use them to “play ressleen muzik” (nobody was quite sure what this meant, but it entailed slapping the front of the guitar repeatedly) and sometimes take the instrument if they declined. He constantly threatened to punch people in the “bolls” if he didn’t get his way, referencing his brother in a commonly heard story, “Y’ow whuh I diddoo my brudder? I punchim innis bolls!”
Our eventually necessitated catharsis was simple and fairly harmless. On a field trip to the Mount Olympus waterpark, Jeremy bought (i.e. had someone buy him) a paddle ball, which, due to the ‘tism, he pronounced “pa’ll paul”. Naturally, we thought this was hilarious, mostly out of desperation. One day, as Jeremy futilely tried to beat his record of one consecutive hit, the cheap toy broke. In all our subversiveness, we decided to have a funeral for Pa’ll Paul, complete with a eulogy and masking tape tomb on the back of the cabin. As expected, the kikes at Chi got their tallis in a twist and reprimanded us sternly for “making fun of kids with disabilities”. It should be noted here that we got along just fine with the 3, yes, THREE other kids with special needs in our cabin.
After much dispute about the nature of morality (I smell a near future post), things settled into a comfortable routine of misbehavior and exasperated consequence. On the final night of camp, we held a traditional dedication ceremony, where kids dedicate pinecones to special parts of the summer. My “special” dedication went something like this: “I dedicate this pinecone to Carlton Clyde, (a 90’s charicature made up by the only good special needs counselor) codenames, (we codenamed every time we snuck out of the cabin to fsu) and moral subjectivity. Oh, and Paul.”
(Oh yeah, we pissed on the grave too. Yes, I am wearing a dragon bathing suit and water shoes. Now you know I mean business in not giving a fuck.)
With those final three words, I was banned from returning to Chi ever again. I left lawling all the way.
Now I usually stay away from serious topics like religion or sexuality, mainly because it’s hard to be funny while discussing something that is serious and has affected friends and family members of mines. But sometimes, sometimes…people just do some ridiculous shit, and it needs to be commented on. This is one of those times. Republicans have tried to introduce an act called the No Taxpayer Funding For Abortion Act that would drastically reduce the definition of rape and incest. To explain how drastic, I present to you this comic panel.
This basically sums it up. Unless you look like a victim on Law & Order: Criminal Intent laid up in a hospital bed with the shit kick out of you and you get pregnant, you don’t get access to federal tax dollars for an abortion.
Now I have a problem with authority, mainly because it boils down to one person tells someone else what they can and can’t do with the body granted to them by whatever deity or forces you choose to believe in. What’s even worse is a bunch of fuckin dudes trying to tell a woman what they can do with their body. If that isn’t the most retardedest shit ever, I don’t know what is.
Clearly I disagree with this. This bill makes no sense but comes from the anti-abortion pro-life side which can’t make a single argument for their side without falling back to religion, which is an automatic lose, because of separation of church and state and the U.S. not having an official religion and all that jazz. Plus it’s coming from Republicans, who want to cut education and increase defense spending, so they want you to have the baby, so then THEY can kill it by under-educating them so they can be cannon fodder in some pointless conflict. Fuck all that.
Now, here’s where predictably shit is going to hit the fan in this post. There is another bill in Georgia proposed by state Rep. Bobby Franklin (R-Marietta) that wants to prevent people from being called victims in cases of rape, incest, stalking, and harassment, but instead be “accusers”.
I agree with this change.
Let me explain why I agree with this before you pelt me with a metric ton of tomatoes. “To be classified, off the bat, as an accuser instead of as a victim places on more barrier to reporting the crime to the authorities,” writes Amie Newman at RH Reality Check, who points out that Franklin’s state of Georgia ranks 11th out of the 50 states and the District of Columbia for incidences of forcible rape. BUT this in itself makes no sense. I don’t think there would be any woman who would be all for reporting a rape, but then say, “well, they are going to call me an accuser, so I will pass.” Most won’t even know that they are called the accuser, as it will be used mostly for the legal paperwork and in court. There is nothing forcing the police to say accuser over victim.
Now people will say, “well these are crimes where females are the victims the majority of the time!” That is true. Unfortunately, they also tend to be the crimes which require there to be proof a crime actually occurred. A victim of theft, a victim of assault, a victim of other crimes… there’s obviously a victim. The question isn’t “was there a crime.” The question is “did this person commit the crime.” In rape, stalking, etc… the question isn’t who did it, the question is of whether or not there was a crime.
By legally saying, “you’re a victim of rape” or “you’re a victim of stalking,” you’re already essentially calling the accused guilty, since there typically isn’t any question or debate about the parties involved… rather the question is what actually happened. That isn’t the case by calling somebody a victim of theft, etc.
Even acknowledging someone as a victim is an assumption, in the case of rape. It is assumed that the crime took place before due process discerns whether or not this was actually the case. Very rarely is it evident on the face of it that someone was, in fact, raped. It’s not obvious like a gunshot wound, a black eye, or a broken window.
It’s this very aspect of the crime — its own subtlety — that demands of us that we be as cautious and as fair and as thorough as possible in our approach, so as to not allow the accusation become a weapon which, to some degree, it already has.
But, tell me what you think. This is one of the few times I actually care and want to promote discussion, so have at thee.
I hope y’all missed me, ’cause I’m back with more rants, stories, and refreshing perspective than ever. If you want to be ahead of the curve, check out http://thatniggacrym.tumblr.com to see my content a few days before I post it here. That said, I’d like to tell a personal story about a portion of my family I particularly hate.
Today, my aunt and her two small girls are coming in for a visit, which means its time to break out my armor of solitude (otherwise known as “being an antisocial jackass”) and steel toe boots, which I only wish were not metaphorical. To a casual observer, this armageddon-type preparation seems like an overreaction, but I know better. You see, these children are a juggernaut of irritation and occasional surprise brute force. They jump, climb, kick, beat, scratch, bite, and expel fluids and gases…all on me. If I’m lucky, sometimes my little brother is around to soak up some of this satanic infantile punishment, but not often. They are four and six years old, and they are a nightmare. To give y’all an idea of the hell that cometh from Grand Rapids, Michigan: A few months back, when I still had braces, (lawl) I was subjected to a veritable tempest of plastic dinosaurs with spines, heads, and tails chewed to shuriken sharpness. When the tiny demons ran out of prehistoric ammunition, the youngest climbed up on the chair where I was sitting and straight-up punched me in the mouth, obliterating the insides of my lips as the second-world discount orthodontia shredded them like CIA Taliban funding-recording documents. When I held her arms to prevent a second onslaught, she began to cry horrifically and tell my aunt that I had hit her. She believed her (facepalm). This comic tragedy reincarnates itself with every all-too-frequent visit, and between physical torment, borderline ASPCA PSA-worthy abuse of my dog, and shrieks of “I wanna watch PimPamfer (gargoyle for “Pink Panther”)”, I’m sure you all can understand why I dread the arrival of these subhumans, whom I’ve taken to referring to as “the kickables” due to their high rating on the kickability scale. My body is ready, my boots are laced.
Now, as many people have seen, either from tech news or the obnoxious ass Super Bowl commercials, the iPhone 4 is coming to Verizon in the coming week. Some of yall out there may be excited about this, as it gives you a chance to jump ship from AT&T’s notoriously crap-ass service, bother phone and customer-wise. Well, before you get your hopes all up and drop that tax refund money from claiming your fast-ass cousin’s new baby so you can stunt with what you think is the latest and greatest, let me educate you on some things.
It’s Old Technology
That’s right. It’s old shit. There are at least 5 phones (including my Droid X) that outclass the iPhone 4 that are out right now, with about 10-12 coming out in the next couple months that will completely destroy it. It’s old tech. There are dual-core phones releasing this month on both AT&T and Verizon and more coming in March and April. This iPhone was already just barely behind the power curve when it released, it just had to stick to the selling point of its “Facetime” app and “It’s a fuckin iPhone!”. Yeah…no. For nerds like me, that isn’t flying once I look at your spec sheet.
The New iPhone is 4 Months Away
Now why in the hell would you lock yourself into a new 1 or 2-year contract over a phone that will become obsolete in the next 4 months? Shit makes no sense. Then 4 months from now after that brand new feeling has worn off and you see everyone jumping on the nuts of the new iPhone (4G or 5 or whatever they will call it), then you will want that. Problem is, Apple charges OUT THE ASS for their phones off-contract…and you already spent your tax refund on new shoes that you will only wear once to the club once you realize every other chick spent their money on the same shit, or you put a down payment on that new Chrysler 200 because that commercial with Eminem was really good. Welp, you are ass out with that obsolete ass phone.
(I said ass a lot didn’t I?)
Now don’t get me wrong, Verizon’s coverage and service is leagues better that AT&T’s, BUT, if you already have an iPhone, there is one BIG thing you will notice you can’t do on Verizon’s service (for now, you can on new 4G phones). You cannot do voice and data at the same time. Basically, you can’t talk on the phone and surf the web or use the GPS or anything that requires data. Yep, it sucks ass (there’s that ass word again). BUT the new iPhone will have a 4G LTE radio in it, so THAT one will be able to in 4 months. So calm your tits and be patient.
It’s a wack-ass iPhone, son!
In full disclosure, I should tell you, that at one point in time, I owned a white 16GB iPhone 3G. It was raw, at the time. Now, fast forward 2 years later, I own an Android phone. Specifically, a Droid X. Android is the new hot operating system, with 300,000 phones selling with Android on it EVERY DAY. It’s much more flexible, more open, and the majority of mobile developers are flocking to it and away from the Apple App Store and its draconian ass rules. I can change whatever the hell i want on my phone. Hell, I edited my 3G symbol to say I had 4G, just because I felt like it. Took 10 minutes. I could literally flood my blog with images of how my phone can look drastically different in 10 minutes, day-to-day. I can make my phone look like a completely different phone in 15 minutes or less. You know what your iPhone will look like? Everyone else’s iPhone. Have fun changing wallpapers all damn day. That shit is ass. This is 2011. I want to change my lock screen so instead of a slider it says “Ass & Titties” and you slide a bra across the bottom to unlock. I can do that shit. Apple doesn’t think you can handle that. Even if you jailbreak it you can’t do anything remotely to what I can do.
Example. Does this
look like this
Yet all of these have been my home screens at one point and it would take me less than 10 minutes to change between any of these.
Keep that iPhone ass son.
And as always, if you disagree…
So, all of black Twitter and the rap blog sites are all abuzz about nude pics of Amber Rose hitting the ‘net. Am I gonna post them? Fuck no. This is a family blog dammit, and I will not have any of that shit and that fuckery displayed here. BUT I will link you at the bottom if you are wholly incompetent at using Google. Me personally? I don’t give a damn. I have actual porn. Like, a LOT of it. There are plenty of better looking chicks doing a whole lot more than just standing around with their breasts all out. Plus she isn’t that fine anyways. I’ve seen plenty of eye-candy in these 25 years on Earth, and I have been farther than 10 miles from the neighborhood I have grown up in, so she isn’t that raw.
Plus people, seriously, there’s like a world of real porn out there. Like 1/3rd of the internet is JUST porn.
Now I know those warm days seem pretty damn far off for most of us, especially those of us in the Midwest after getting sacked with that big ass blizzard not too long ago, but don’t worry, because warm weather will be here sooner than later. Until then, get yourself in that mindset with this Mick Boogie and DJ Jazzy Jeff summertime mixtape. If you have ever been to a hood cookout or barbeque during the summer, or just hung around black folks over 35 in your life during any part of the summer, you have heard at least 60% of these songs. The mixing is good, with just one glaring moment in this little over an hour mixtape that threw me out of the groove. Besides that, I give this mixtape an A-.
Link and tracklist below.
Now, you might think I’m about to start telling women how to cook., but I’m not. Lord knows some of you need to learn in 2011 with all this “eating out” shit and then expecting my black ass to pay for it, but nah, this is about men cooking for women. Now some of you dudes out there ain’t going, for one reason or another, be it because your wack ass moms didn’t teach you because she was too busy shaking her ass at the club and left you at home with a box of Hot Pockets, or you are saving that shit for marriage or until unless she is doing anal, whatever. Point is, cooking is the shit, it’s easy, and if you haven’t hit it yet, it boosts your chances of it by at least 50%. Women love that shit, and I’m gonna tell you why.
1. Women love a free meal.
They do. They really do. You will be hard-pressed to find a woman bored on a Friday night that is going to turn down a free meal from a man, regardless on whether she is interested in fucking him tonight, tomorrow, or ever. That disfigured munchkin from 300 can walk into a room of single ladies and say, “Dinner at Red Lobster, my treat!” and damn near every woman in there will be down to go. Why? Because that’s one less meal they have to pay for, and they can take that money and add it to the shoe/club/birth control fund. Also they get taken out, get to dress up and look pretty, and if they are going out with a guy they aren’t interested in, it gives them a chance to scope out other dudes to talk to.
2. Women Like Being Catered To
Women love it when a man rubs their feet, massages their back, and generally does anything that they usually had to do for a man. She’s tired of having to rub the back of some unemployed dude who says, “he had a long day,” when all he did was sit up at his boy’s house playing Madden 11. She wants someone to do for her, and cooking is a easy way to do that, because you aren’t just doing for her, your ass gets to eat too. But she doesn’t see it that way. She sees it as purely done for her.
3. It’s Cheap
Now if you are one of those dudes who think that taking a chick to get a Value Meal at McDonalds counts as a special night, then this isn’t for you in the first place. We don’t cook for hoodrats, sir. Now for the men who like taking them out to places where the bill will be $30 and up, this is for you. Now why spend all that money at Red Lobster for cheddar biscuits when you can make them at home for 1/5th the price? Plus, a bedroom shouldn’t be far, so if things are going really well, she doesn’t have time to think things over about whether she wants to sleep with you.
Men, start cooking for these women, and even throw in a foot massage for extra credit as long as her feet don’t look like eagle talons. That’s definitely a proper way to seal a deal.