Cogito Ergo

I love being a married man.   That being said, there are certain complications that come with the territory.   For instance, after I took my vows, turns out I was still a human male, which is nice when it comes to sexing up the wife, not so nice when in the company of other boobs and badonks. Now I haven’t become a master of avoiding attraction from the opposite sex quite yet but I’m working on it (not really).   One thing that I’ve noticed is that if the right song comes on, it amplifies all of those carnal urges your pastor swore would get you straight into hell. In the real and married world, it isn’t the devil you face when you give in to your urges, it’s that pissed off spouse.   In the interest of saving you all that sort of pain I’ve come up with a top ten list of songs that you should never, I mean NEVER, get caught alone in a car, on a couch or on a dance floor with anyone other than the one you’re with.   And for any nefarious females look...

The summer of 1998 was a good time for me.   I had just graduated from high school.   I was soon headed to the University of Kansas for my freshman year and I had begun that elusive growth spurt that everyone else in my class ended 2 years before.   Yeah, life was looking up. (Still no women though) There was one battle that I was continuing to lose, though.   My hair was still rather unruly.   It might be odd for you to think of a Black man with bad hair but trust me on this one.   Some of it is curly, some of it is downright nappy and some of it even has the nerve to be straight.   As if that wasn’t enough, I have a second hair swirl.   I have one in the back and another that shifts the direction of my hair in the front suddenly to the right which means when my hair is low, it looks like I’m attempting some sort of comb-over.   It takes excessive brushing and plenty of Murray’s (find a hood friend if you are not sure what Murray’s ...

He told us that he seen something I saw it too and began to call it by its name She said she was a phenomenal woman And somehow I felt the same We all learn to say and convey and shoot off at the yap But few of us have voice It is one thing to see the destruction But it’s another thing to say somebody blew it up in such a tone that everyone turns and points and screams It was you motherfucker, we see you When a Calypso woman feels like she makes Diamonds where her thighs meet and don’t care about how you feel about it You want to know what it’s like What it’s like to feel that good, that strong, that beautifully human. “Show yourself” he called to me, waving his finger Busting me out in room full of white kids “You ain’t no Black Baudelaire You gonna die, you don’t get off this train” She said the Lord gave you shoulders and you better not slump them Yeah you may look tough, but it takes whole a lot more strength to smile The strong mu...

Let’s be clear.   I like the guys that play for the Clippers.   Chris Paul is my favorite point guard in the game, has been for a long time and what can you say about Blake Griffin?   Every time he gets a lane to the rim my heart skips a beat in anticipation.   I even like the rest of the team but that being said, them fools cannot be allowed to win the NBA Championship.   Not this year. I won’t go in on Donald Sterling and his browned skinned rent-a-freak.   That shit has been covered at length.   There is something much bigger at stake than those two. The reason that it would be be horrid if the Clippers took the title is that it would send the message that not only was Sterling’s bigotry not that big a deal, it was an effective business plan. When talking race in America, you will eventually run into the argument: “Well Oprah made it, why can’t the rest of you niggers pull yourself up by your bootstraps?”   No, I don’t know what bo...

We’ve all heard the statistics on sexual assault.   Well, most of us… Well, some of us.   To be brief, the news is bad.   According to rainn.org every two minutes an American is sexually assaulted. 60% of sexual assaults aren’t reported to the police and 44% of victims are under the age of 18… yeah, 18.   I know that’s messed up but that ain’t the messed up thought that shook me a little while ago. You see, whilst driving, my overactive brain had a revelation.   All these women getting raped and abused have to be getting hurt by someone.   Here’s where the fucked up part comes in.   You probably know a rapist.    Let that sink in.   We take into account that we know so many women that have been raped but we never think about who done it.   They say (rainn.com et al.) that most victims know their assailants and by that logic, if you are in the same circle as a rape victim, there is a two in three chance that you know h...