Icehouse Edge, Miller Brewing Company (Beer Blogger, Username: lovethatdarkthickbodiedfunkystuff) 2012

It's not the best tasting malt liquor in the world but that's not why a beer connoisseur, such as I, drinks this shit.  Fuck naw.  Avowing 8% ABV it keeps its promises.  It's what I call a: fucked up beer,  IWGYFU (It Will Get You Fucked Up)!  Yah heard may.

Back in the day, the Native Americans would have traded land for this shit!  And if you are a diabetic?,  beware, this shit is sweet as all get up!  For real!

Peace, my hoppas!

I Hear You, Yo Honah! I Fuckin Hear You Loud And Fuckin Clear! (Anthony Thompson,Johnson County, Indiana) June, 2015

Motha Fuckas don't want ta see yo monkey ass! For real! You listen to these muh fuckas that don't know shit bout this here judicial system, especially as it applies to this here paternity, custody...or whateva hearings bullshit. People don't know what the fuck they talkin bout. Let me tell yo ignant ass somehn! These courts are so backed up and shit, they don't have time for the trivial bullshit you think is relevant. You, may think the shit is relevant, but yo relevancy don't have shit ta do with the fuckin law. Ya heard may? You can get mad all you fuckin want but the evidence the court is lookin at is what they go by. And the Motion or Petition they are judging is all that they are lookin at. Not yo five, ten, fifteen years of fuckin marriage or a fuckin relationship yo sorry ass done had with the Father or Mother of said child. They ain't got time fo that bullshit!

Yeah! Yeah! Next booty on duty motha fucka! Gotsta keep it fuckin movin goddamnit! Well I just want the court to know...Whah? That shit ain't in the Motion! Fuck that! What else yo sorry ass got for my tired ass? Gots no time fo shit that ain't been put in the proper legal way. There's law you ignant motha fuckas!

Here in lies the rub. If you don't know proper procedure as it pertains to the law, judges get quite pissed. Not just by the one who is Motioning or Petitioning but by every goddamned body involved! If the shit ain't got nothin ta do with the best interest of the child, then get the fuck out of my fuckin courtroom! This shit is bout what the Mother wants or what the Father wants. Not what the fuckin child needs! Get-the-fuck-out! And don't let me see yo monkey asses back in here anytime soon! Or there will be hell ta pay! Ya heard may?

Shiiiit! I got ears yo Honor! I got fuckin ears! Best believe that shit! For real!

Peace! More to come...

This Is Only The Beginning (Elaine Hopson II/Deuce) 2018

You are perfectly created.

You are uniquely you.

No one else can be you.

No one is like you...

And this is where this story of our individuality begins.

Please, stay tuned.

(...to be continued)

2015 (From Another Learned Poor Person) November 2020

We guessed it was always in our faces. The sign being there most of our lives. All the times humans have used the phrase over the years, "Hindsight is 20/20."

Well, 2015 is when we should have known something. Global warming; volcanoes stirring and erupting, tornadoes every where...; the human condition worsening; nature loosing its shield, the atmosphere thinning...But no one looked at the year that we were in. No, one!

20/15, as far as visual acuity is concerned, is better vision than 20/20. It was there, right in our faces all this time. The year of our Lord 2015 in the optical realm had been forecasting our human fate; albeit, unbeknownst to US; we knew what was going to come in 2020. 20/20 is when normal visual acuity has been obtained. 20/15 is when you see better than what is deemed "normal."

We witnessed it. Right in front of our eyes all along, 20/15 meant the year 2015. But we didn't pay it any mind whatsoever. Clarity had come in 2015.

The horrible shit we should have seen coming, back in 2015, hit the masses in 2020.

But by then...it was too late.

The Voice Of...by Deuce (Elaine Hopson II) 2017

They wanted me to accept this pedophile Black preacher James Denton on the show; a show that was named after me: Kyle Johnson "Make The Right Decision."  Ol' Pastor Denton on this shit with these elaborate shirt sleeves cuffs which were monogrammed/inscribed with his name on both cuffs with cuff links of diamonds that I am sure that set the preacher back a couple of thousand dollars.  Cazal eyeglass frames another $650; the lenses to be put into that same frame, Physio Enhanced Fit PAL(Progressive Addition Lenses), Crizal Sapphire ARC (Anti Reflective Coating), Transition Grey Xtra-Active lenses...settin the "preacher' back fo sho easily another three stacks just with his eyewear alone.  But we are here in this studio to discuss poverty to the poverty stricken.  The fuck man? Fuckin niggah pastors!

I had heard the vile things Pastor Denton had did and continues to sickeningly do with our youth.  And I guess you have already surmised, I do not like the mother fucker; not one iota.  Filthy waste of human fecal matter and sperm is the way that I had always seen him.  There was no emotion on my face when I was introduced to him at the various functions around this finite world of Naptown; Indianapolis, Indiana.  I never smiled at his trifling ass.  Nor did I ever offer my hand as far as a gentlemanly introduction.

Shit!  As far as I am concerned, yo ass is a preacher and it is known, not gossiped, that you fuck little boys as well as little girls...there ain't a goddamned thing we need to talk about with yo stanky funky sorry ass.  Yao Ming?  I don't ever have to interact with yo stank pedophile havin ass again.

And when we do meet again somewhere down the road of absolution for my family and I; I just may well will have to  wipe yo funky sorry ass stank, worthless piece of fetid human flesh off of the face of this God Given Green Earth!  Yah heard may?  Amen!

But for now, I have to watch his sorry ass being in the forefront of this civil unrest in Baltimore, Maryland.  Knowing full well with a spirit like "his" front and center, shit just gonna get worse, not better.

I have never seen nor read of how to make sour fruit or rotten food better.  So, I definitely understand that it is what it is.  After which, all that it is good for at that point is refuse or compost.  I sighed as he tried again to put out his hand in greeting, and again I just looked at his outstretched huge hands, black as charcoal in color, then looked up with disdain.  He just shrugged, not getting it at all, or maybe he just didn't give a damn anymore with his filthy self, and sat down in front of the guest microphone across from me.

I sighed heavily.  Today just may be the day.  I reached under the round counsel which we were sitting around, felt the familiar leather of my satchel; unclasped the flap; pulled the flap toward me, reached in to feel the cool safety of the steel...(to be continued)

Righteous Indignation (Broke Black Prophet) 2019

There always has to be blood on the street; on the sidewalks; on your face; and definitely on your hands.  This is what it has to come down to, blood; viscerally so.  Good speak has gone out the window.  Rationale becomes the thing of the past.  The only thing left is pain...and blood; and lots of both.  And this is where life ends and begins organically.  Where the earth gets its nourishment, from our absurdity.  We have never learned from our fated past.  We only know how to keep recycling it even bloodier than before; not only the story of our history but the story we love to keep remaking like a bad story line that someone keeps pushing on the populous in hope that it will make a killing at the box office; alas, this is no big budget picture nor fictional account.  It is real life with real lives being lost at an astronomical rate.  But we throw caution to the wind and say, "Let it be!"

I don't know about all of that.  But I will say, "So be it!"  And this time, an insurmountable number of you elite are going to perish just like we, the poor; and the meek shall inherit this earth once again!

And by God's  glory, let the pain commence and the blood start flowing!

Et Tu Thy Hypocrite? (Michael Johnson, Ex-Smoker and Ex-Drinker; Listening To His Ex-Smoker and Ex Drinker Father-In-Law Robert Bailey) 2015

I didn't like the way he said it.  Some type of fucked up self-righteousness that was profound to me.  He said he used to be; now, he proclaims he is not.  But that has never made sense to me.  If one was an alcoholic one will forever be.  One just chooses not to drink alcohol any longer.  And the same with smoking. If one smoked cigarettes, one will always be a cigarette smoker; but now, one just chooses not to smoke cigarettes any longer.

The only ones that can avow that they are not either of the alcohol or cigarette addicts are the ones that have never been addicted to either one or to both.

And he had been both at one time; yet, he spoke of both like some vile entity that he could have never thought to have been.

My father-in-law stating, "A person who smokes and is an alcoholic ain't shit!" And All I could think is, "Ain't that the pot calling the mothah fuckin kettle, 'Black Ass'?"

Cylical 394 (BBP 2008)

There is something wrong! Not a question, but a stone cold fact! Say what you want. Believe what your ass wants, somethin terrible is 'round the fuckin cornah! For real! The way this politcal shit is playing out in Washington...Ain't nothin the fuck nice! Call those mah fuckahs Sand Niggers if you want, you ignorant elitist bastards! But I know my people, we all carry those niggah genes! You better recognize! You gonna go over into a niggahs' country, kill their Mother, Father, Sister, Brother...and think I'm not gonna get your ass if I live through this shit?! The fuck you thinkin! "Revenge is a dish best served cold!" Or hot! Whatevahs clevah! Yao Ming? We done opened Pandora's Box over in that Middle East, and we done fucked the fuck up! "Curiosity killed the cat." Perhaps. There is always time enough to repent for thy sins...until death overtakes. Yah heard may? Sho you right! Check it out my Dear Sweet Sistahs and Brothahs...

Cyclical - 394

What is it that is in it? Bit on a pit to put reality in check. Inspect the dialect circumspect. Defect into another country so I can select another derelict? Homeless, helpless and depressed? I’ll stay right here and swill the beer! Drunkenly awaiting the change that is to come, the “to” is gone, here again’s the “from”… and I’ll soberly cheer!

Meredith Singleton Circa 2000

Chloe says, "Hiiiiieee!" Hah! Ain't that some shit! Peace! More to come...

Meredith

The Cloak and Dagger of Religion (Michael Heart, Thirty-Three Years Old, Radio Personality) April, 2015

They wanted me to accept this pedophile Black preacher James Johnson on the show; a show that was named:"Make The Right Decision."  Ol' Pastor Johnson on this shit with these elaborate shirt sleeve cuffs which were monogrammed/inscribed with his name on both cuffs with cuff links of diamonds that I am sure that set the "preacher" back a couple of thousand dollars.  Cazal frames another $650, the lenses to be put into that same frame, Physio Enhanced Fit PAL(Progressive Addition Lenses), Crizal Sapphire ARC (Anti Reflective Coating), Transition Grey lenses...settin the "preacher' back fo sho easily three stacks and half just with his glasses on.  But we are here talking about poverty to the poverty stricken and the reason why niggahs are poppin off crazy in Baltimore, Maryland. The fuck man?

I had heard the vile things Pastor Johnson had did and continues to sickeningly do with our youth.  And I guess you have already surmised, I do not like the mother fucker; not one iota.  Filthy waste of human fecal matter is the way that I had always seen him once I researched his muddy past.  There was no emotion on my face when I was introduced to him at the various functions around this finite Black world environment, like my wife says, "The world is only two niggahs deep."  I never smiled at his trifling ass.  Nor did I ever offer my hand as far as a gentlemanly introduction.

Shit!  As far as I am concerned, yo ass is a so called prominent preacher in our Black community and it is known, not gossiped, that you fuck little boys as well as lttle girls...there ain't a goddamned thing we need to talk about with yo stank funky sorry ass.  Yao Ming?  I don't ever have to interact with yo stank pedophile havin ass again.

And when we do meet again somewhere down the road of absolution for my family and I; I just may well will have to  wipe yo funky sorry, stank ass, worthless piece shit of fetid human flesh off of the face of this God Given Green Earth!  Yah heard may?  Amen!

But for now, I have to watch his sorry ass being in the forefront of this civil unrest in Baltimore, Maryland.  Knowing full well with a spirit like "his" front and center, shit just gonna get worse, not better there and around the country with the shit that's goin down now.

I have never seen nor read of how to make sour fruit or over ripened food to reach its peak of sweetness in a recipe because it is not possible, no matter how much cane sugar you put to try to mask the spoiled taste!  He is sour and over ripened fruit.  A cancer to our Black community.  So why in the fuck, did these sorry ass white owners of this Black radio station schedule him to be interviewed on my show?  I knew why.  But reality is a bitch of a bastard oft times.  And the pisser about it is, Pastor Johnson nor these white owners really understand my limits; but they will find out soon enough.

(...to be continued)

Reality Checks (Forty-Two Years Old, Devout Southern Baptist, White Male, Married, Father of Two) 2017

Sometimes I put my hand in space to feel some type of air;

Sometimes I pull one of my hairs from my leg to feel;

Sometimes I laugh out loud to see if any one responds;

Sometimes I close and open my eyes to see if anything has changed;

Sometimes I stare in awe and horror…

Because what I am witnessing in this world today just can’t be real.

Digital Data Dogma (Blake Shelton, Thirty-Two Years Old, Computer Geek) 2013

"So what am I supposed to do?  Wish that the information is the truth?"  I asked.

"Well, most of the information is correct over the internet, but you have to fact check to really be sure," Robin said.

"Shit man!  I remember the time when all you had to do was to open up the 'Encyclopedia Britannica' or go to the library and poof, instant truth," I responded.

"And that's the problem Blake.  At least given your scenario there was something called fact checking.  Now, people are just Googling for God's sake and hoping for the best, unbeknownst to them," Robin said gesticulating all over the place.

"I hear you.  But damn, right now that's the best that we've got," I said.

"Well, that's the problem too.  Everyone is getting lazy.  Just type in something and read Wikipedia or some shit; because everybody knows that if it is on the Internet it is the truth!  My God!," Robin said.

"Welcome to the set-up Robin!  But we let them do this to us," I said.

"And that's the pisser Blake!" Robin said beside himself.

(...to be continued)

I'm Just His Coach God Damn It! (Head Coach, Billy Blades, Indianapolis, Indiana) 2011

So we lost.  No doubt about that!  Shit no!  Got our asses handed to us in a big mothah fuckin way!  Fo sho!  But what the kicker is, I'm walking off the field and a parent approaches me, "Hi coach.  My name is.."

"I know who you are.  You're Donald's father .  What can I do you for?"  I ask not feeling this shit at all.  Don't ask no mothah fuckin questions to no damn coach when it's the losin fuckin coach; thus, me mothah fuckah!  But I'm keepin it together...just fuckin barely.

"Yes, you're right!  But I just wanted to ask you one question if I may?" Mr. Klein asks.

"I'm cool with it.  But I just want you to know we just lost if you didn't notice sir and I never am really together mentally after a loss so if this can wait I would really appreciate it sir," I said with as much patience as I could possibly muster.

"Oh, it's only a short question which I am sure will not take much of your time," Mr. Klein pushes on.

What the fuck, "Shoot," I say.

"I would just like to know coach, why in the world would you call a two yard play when we needed five yards to get a first down?" Mr. Klein asks.

"Now we are talking about the fourth down play which we didn't convert that turned it over to the other team who ran out the clock subsequently. Right?"  I asks.

"Exactly," he responds with a little too much excitement in his voice for my liking.

"The same two yard play that your son Donald, one of our starting wide receivers, was a recipient of.  That play?"  I ask workin the setup.  He really should have caught me tomorrow but such is life, one deals with the present.  So I must deal with what is in front of me now.

"Yes!  It's a simple question.  But if you don't want to answer it, that's fine.  But you do not have to scoff at me for something you do not have an answer for!" Mr.Klein now where I want him.

"You know what sir, you're right.  Please forgive me.  But first of all I asked if you could wait for another time to ask me what you wanted to ask me.  And I guess you could not since your schedule is so busy and my schedule is empty supposedly.  Digressing, I say all that to say, I'm sorry, and you are right.  I should answer your question and I most assuredly will.  To begin with sir, there is no way I would call a two yard play.  We don't even have a two yard play in our playbook, nor I am pretty sure no other team does also.  So will you indulge me?  Can I ask you some questions?" I ask with the utmost feigned sincerity.

"Sure,"  he says.

"When you ask Donald to take out the trash when it needs to be taken out, does he do it?"  I ask.

"Well, he's pretty good at it I guess. I would say most of the time, yeah, most of the time," Mr. Klein says with not much verve.

"I'm sure you ask him to make his bed every day, does he?"  I ask.

"Well...not really. No I can't say he does that," Mr. Klein says.

"Okay, would you agree with me, just with those two things that would be just teaching him the basic or the fundamentals of what is expected of him in this life or at least while he is under your roof?"  I ask.

"I would agree with you on that," he says looking kind of like, where is this going?

"Forgive me of how I'm going to put this to you but this is how I feel I need to express this to you.  But, you are his father and he doesn't do the things that are expected of him when his father tells him to do it on a regular.  I'm just the mothah fuckah's coach.  And when the play is designed for him to do a five yard out route and he decides to do a two yard out route...shit!  Don't blame the fuckin messenger!"  I say and walk the fuck away.