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An Afro-American Take on Rap Music (Serious post)


TheSandyTongue left a comment on my post on Lil Wayne that inspired this post. Shout out to him

Guns and Bats..yeah this is real hip-hop

I have a  diversified palate when it comes to music. I listen to everything: country music, rap, Hip-Hop, R&B, classical, Opera, International stuff as well. Rap music has a special place in my heart. We have a special relationship. My parents forbid me to listen to it, because to them they didn’t understand it and its promote what they felt was a violent counter culture. Though I still managed to sneak some music here and there a mass majority of the music at the time didn’t appeal to me. As someone who has never taken drugs, doesn’t have any kids out of wedlock or from different women, has never been in jail, etc it is hard for me to relate to the songs on a deeper level thank just liking a beat. I thought in this post I would share with you all some of my observations  of rap and hip-hop and the culture from which it sprang from.

The Black Community

These words are fictitious, it is my opinion no matter what the Reverend Jesse Jackson says or the Reverend Al Sharpton or even Reverend Run  that there is no such thing as a black community. Why well because well once someone makes it, the first thing they do is move far away. They don’t reinvest in the community first. They get out. What is called  The Black Community is basically a haphazard motley assortment o people stuck in the same socio economic bracket and part of the neighborhood. The Black Community isn’t a homogeneous community. There are people who’s family like Mine came from the Caribbean, some which came recently from Africa, some who have been here since the inception of this country. We all speak different languages, and have different cultural identities and values. We comprise 14% of the US population and so it is quite often that means that statistically we can’t expect our needs to be well represented.  Given how historically the US has treated blacks there is a lot of untrust and apathy, in this simulacrum of a community.

A few decades ago our struggle was vocalized in the Blues which was at first mocked and derided, and I would like in my mind to compare rap music to have been initially a vocalization of the inner city experience. It too was derided and ridicule, it too became over time made a serious impact in music world-wide. Rap/ hip-hop was a very interesting thing. In the 80′s it was used as a tool to promote cultural awareness and it was a means for us in the so called community to reach other to each other despite our collective differences. Malcolm X speeches were put on tapes and remixed to beats, one could by books from vendors on the streets about Africa.

This may not seem like much but it’s meaningful? let me give you an example. Dr. Henry Louis Gates did a special for PBS called Black in America and he made the distinction i believe that only in America doe black people refer to themselves as Black Americans, in other countries they refer to themselves as their Nationality first “I am Cuban who’s black, I am a Brazilian who’s Black. America for the mass majority of us doesn’t feel like a home.

Bob Marley and Capitalism

If you listen to the song Redemption song by Bob Marley there are some cool lines:

Clip 1
Old pirates, yes, they rob I
Sold I to the merchant ships
Minutes after they took I
From the bottomless pit
But my hand was made strong

Clip 2

Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery
None but ourselves can free our minds

There is this pervasive idea that  through hard work we can get out of whatever bad situation we are in: Some of us choose to work hard at sports, some choose to word hard at academia, we find our niche and we  put in the work. This sets off an interesting situation,there is a constant siphoning off of  the talented and successful people out of the neighborhood where we came up in. Our greatest resources is the human resource and that is depleting and depleting

To me in many ways rap had at some point a powerful message, it was sometimes social commentary, sometimes a cry for help, sometimes a vocalization of pain. Now it is is entertainment. Nowadays rappers make their money through playing on social stereotypes , shock value , and sensationalism. Whatever power rap had to be a catalyst for social discourse is gone on a whole though there are still some  rappers who talk about pertinent things.

Final Thoughts on Rap for this post at least

When rap first came out and began to be popular, I heard so many negative things about it, but that only made me love it more. It was something I could relate too. It felt like something organic made for me by people who went through similar things which is more than can be said for most things. But like all things it became a commodity something to be bought and sold, it became a means for people who had very little  to get tons of money without a proper education or deep understand of  societal problems and as a result many successful rappers nowadays are only gimmicks that will have fade into oblivion not having done much than to make themselves a spectacle or some kind of freak to be used to sell things  and subversive ideaologies

Boxer and politician Manny Pacquiao

I called It, Manny Pacquiao is a Bitch: Pacquiao denounces anti-gay allegations


Due to pieces like the one I wrote before Hot off the Presses: Manny Pacquiao unloads over Barack Obama Gay Porn Style Manny Pacquiao was forced to reveal in public his inner bitch.

Hot off the Presses

Pacquiao was banned from a popular Hollywood shopping mall after the article was publicized Tuesday, and an online petition encouraging sponsor Nike Inc. to drop Pacquiao received 4,868 signatures before it was suspended Wednesday morning. The petition site, change.org, posted a note saying that the author of the original article had clarified that Pacquiao didn’t cite the Bible passage.

It seems that when people start talking reckless, about shit they should be talking about, and there is a backlash that may hurt their wallets, there inner bitch that comes out. It makes sense that Pacquiao would change his position. By being a boxer and politician at the same time there probably will be some prison time, and no matter how good a boxer he is  he cant knock out10 prisons who are intent on making him toss their salad. So its best to back down a bit.  We all like rotisserie chicken we all don’t want to be the victim of being rotisserie’d in prison over a spit of ballsack and crotchial heat (yeah I just coined that their crotchial hear). Well I dont want to at least.

Double Speak

Boxer and politician Manny Pacquiao

Pacquiao says some weird thing which I think are insincere:

  • Pacquiao said Wednesday in an interview with The Associated Press that he doesn’t support gay marriage because of his Roman Catholic beliefs. But he said he has gay friends and relatives, and supports their rights.

I thought marriage was a legal right. It’s funny to support the rights of his gay friend and relatives but not their right to marry. I think if Roman Catholics don’t wants gays to get married  they should close their doors to them like they do the homeless on the cold winter night, ignore them like they do the kids who are victims of sodomy. In an American court of Law I am not sure what religion has to do with any human rights!!!!

  • “My favorite verse in the Bible is ‘Love one another,’ and ‘Love your neighbor as you love yourself,’” Pacquiao said. “It’s in the Bible: Do not judge. I’m not judging.”

I don’t know whats worse:  how people misconstrue the word judgement, or how they openly admit to not think for themselves and using a book to guide their lives. Doing it doggy style isn’t in the bible or snorting blow isn’t in the bible, and Im pretty sure boxing for money isn’t in the Bible either but I’m pretty sure when Pacquiao was done boxing, snorting blow he was stuffing chicks doggy style like Christmas time at the UPS store.

Final thoughts

Pacquiao chuckled at the knowledge that his words — even words he said he didn’t say — carry more weight than those of an average athlete because of his political aspirations.

You see Pacquiao has political aspirations, he is congressman, representing the Sarangani province in the Philippines’ House of Representatives since May 2010.

Manny  is experiencing a new-found passion for his religion and has socially conservative views in line with many Filipinos’ beliefs.  While that is true, if I was  a gay Filipino, I would be writing Manny Pacquiao letters asking him to give me a kiss, because I like to be kissed when I being fucked.

My homey, The Sandy Tongue said it best:

Isn’t it amazing how the media has a made a dude who hits other dudes in the head worth something? I give Manny credit though, he is acting 100% like a great Southern Baptist. I would love to see Mayweather beat his ass.

I would trust Sylvester Stallone as a politician. Like Pacquiao he is used to bullshitting in front of a camera, but unlike Pacquiao he has the decency to not take the role he is playing seriously. BTW Art doesn’t imitate life, in Rocky a brain dead speech challenged boxer  has enough coordination and grey matter to sorta run a  restaurant after his career is over. But here we have Manny Pacquiao Manny Pacquiao a brain dead speech challenged boxer who some how is a politician  and he believe that his enthusiasm for Jesus give him the right to spew his agenda outside of the places where he banged all those whores.

I think secretly when he was high on blow Pacquiao sack tickled and got sacked tickled by a tranny and since then he doesn’t approve same sex marriage because he cant get the taste of man-milk, lint and ball sweat out of his head.

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tmi-award

TMI: Most Embarrasing Night


The TMI Blog Award honors those blogs that discuss everything in detail and do it well. These bloggers aren’t afraid to discuss their most awkward, embarrassing and intimate experiences with honesty, humor and little to no filter.

The Rules

Thank the person who presented you with the award.
Link back to the blogger who presented the award to you.
Share an awkward, embarrassing and intimate story in 250 words or less.
Copy and paste the blog award on your blog.
Present the TMI Blog Award to 5 – 10 deserving blogs.
Let them know they have been chosen by leaving a comment at their blog.

HERE WE FUCKING GO!!!!!!! WEEEEEEEEEEEE

Thanks to TheSandyTongue for nominating me and encouraging me to share a terribly embarrassing moment in my life.

People Nominated

KissTheMuse
Edward Hotspur
Ms. Ashley
Becoming Cliche
Suzanita

The BackStory

It was about three-year ago and change. I was in dire financial straits. I had no money for a coat, the electricity was turned on and off so many times it didn’t make sense to buy groceries. My lady at the time had recently started working so there was an end in sight for the financial difficulties. I changed my hours around so that I could leave work at 10 PM and to save money for transportation walk about 60 blocks in the cold to wait for her on 11 avenue.

NYC isn’t as cold then as it used to be in my memory but it was still freezing and  I had only thermals and to move around to keep warm. 11th and 12th avenue for those of you who don’t know is right next to the river. At around time I was there the winds where fiercely strong and doubly icy. Sometimes she had to work overtime without prior notification and I would die out there. I didn’t feel comfortable hanging in the lobby of the building as I wasn’t a part of the neighborhood, I didn’t fit in, and didn’t want to depend on the temperamental niceness of the lobby attendant.

The Set-up

It was tough but I was there to greet her every night and sometimes when I saved up my change I got her something she would like to lighten her mood. This one day I managed to put together enough money to eat something from McDonalds which was conveniently located 2 blocks from the 59 street Columbus circle train station. Twenty minutes later I was in intense stomach pain but unfortunately stuck on the 2 train very far from my apartment in the Bronx. There was congestion on the train and last-minute we were stuck between stations for the longest time, and I knew that I couldn’t make it till my apartment.

I informed my lady of what was going on/ I told her I had to get off the next station and think fast.I said Id call her and not to worry. The next station was 138th street on the number train. It’s the first stop in the Bronx. When one is coming in from Manhattan. I remember seeing some fast food places across from a jail and I thought I could maybe use the bathroom there.

The Climatic Moment

I scanned the streets after I got off, and no bathroom in sight. I walked up and down one street. I knew that any second now that without having to use the excuse of pretending to be a hose for an avant-garde play I was going to like Old Faithful in Yellowstone, make a double delivery. It seems that with serious food poisoning no orifice is safe.

I had the wherewithal and sense and some years of meditation practice under my belt to slow my breathing down, breathe with the diaphragm and not the lungs, and buy a roll of toilet paper from the window open at the corner store. There was a construction site not to far away at the time, I figured that would be my best best there was scaffolding to obscure the view and being that it was close to 1 am there wouldn’t be people out.

I surveilled the area and I was so incredibly cold. I had had the experience of no heat in winter or sleeping on a drafty floor with a single cover in the winter time, but I was so cold. The only thing I didn’t foresee or expect was there to be shady people who liked the cover the construction site gave them to sell drug and take drugs. This was even for me a pretty crappy part of the Bronx (that was about to get crappier.) There were some huge project looming buildings around.

My relaxed breathing bought me some time, but it was running out.  I found a place between that concealed me enough for me to do my business.  The next few parts are a blur. I threw-up from both ends I felt light-headed, unfortunately during the process there was further down a dude talking on the phone and he didn’t look like your state farm good neighbor. Further down I could hear because of the silence at that time some voice that were coming closer and closer, yet the second of 3 geyser show of the night was starting I was in no position to run, as it was hard enough to keep my balance so I didn’t soil whatever clothing I was wearing. I was still 25 minutes by train from my apartment.

The Happy Ending

My dog happy, in a stylish hand knitted scarf that went wrong

I guess from the pain and strain I started laughing. Because I remember all the times I walked my dog Happy after she ate something ridiculous that gave her the runs. I thought this was some sort of karmic payback for those time when I got mad at her or didn’t take her out enough. I couldn’t stop laughing. Also I was reminded by the steam from a line from the DMX, “It’s Dark and Hell is Hot”. How can somethings so hot come from a body so cold ?

The gang of people turned back and the thugged-out dude left thank God. When the light-headedness/ geyser stopped I cleaned up. Ran back to the train station got home and took the longest shower of my life and laughed hysterically at my fortune with my lady until I passed out and slept for the next 12 hours.

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My Favorite Bloggers As Songs I hear or listen too: TheSandyTongue


You might not be able to tell from my skin color but I love to sing. If you were able to discern such a personal tidbit of information you might be a fan of Mariah Carey. The post Tommy Mattola, Mariah who ate massive quantities of fried chicken, turning black chairs upside down to ride the legs and roll with Puffy

But, in order to steer the conversation back something non-offensive whenever I’m working  I find myself also singing. I’ve a  great love for music in all its shapes and forms and today while scrolling through all the blogs I like and subscribed while I was listening to music and there were a few songs which seemed to match the authors of the blogs  I was reading. So i though why not put together a blog post entitled: My Favorite Bloggers As Songs I hear or listen too:

The SandyTongue

TheSandyTongue has the testicular fortitude (aka cohones)  to speak his mind and be imperially who he is. He is one of the few people who I respect. He is on a continual search for clarity and sense, but isn’t stuck up about it; he is rather down to earth. We may articulate things differently, but we both know what’s up.

The similarities are too much to share:

  1. We both didn’t get the Dick Clarke Obsession
  2. We are both fucking tired of Al Sharpton. You maybe surprised to hear it but not every negro pledges their undying allegiance to him, until that is some cops fuck me up for no reason then I may have use for him
  3. We both can’t get down with Oprah both big and skinny Oprah
  4. We both don’t think the Kardashians should get airtime, especially for mouth milking a D class rapper ( It’s not the 80′s every girl does it )
  5. We both like the works of Charles Bukowski, Sublime, Jimi Hendrix, Stevie Ray Vaughn.
  6. GoldBond’s Medicated Powder – need I say more
  7. He recommend the Vol De Nuit bar in NYC – Belgian Beer and Pommes Frites – I didn’t know about this place before and I will be drowning some sorrows with some friends there this weekend.

The list goes on. I hope in the future to be able to interview the Big Homey, aka MrSandyTongue. Check out the related article section to see where we have collaborated in the past and other posts in common. In the meanwhile Enjoy these two song which in head  remind me of TheSandyTongue. Stayed tuned for the next blogger in the series.

One more time for comic effect

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MrMary Answers a serious Question on Dick Clarke posted on TheSandyTongue Blog


The Drug of Entertainment

“Deep down, no one really believes they have a right to live. But this death sentence
generally stays cosily tucked away, hidden beneath the difficulty
of living. If that difficulty is removed from time to time,
death is suddenly there, unintelligibly.”
Jean Baudrillard, Cool Memories

One of the ramification of the advent of capitalism was that the public sphere instead of being the place for critical decussion of the world’s events and the issues of the day as it was in the 18th century after the a mixture of things like The French Revolution, Napoleanic Wars, etc, dethroned the entrenched representative form of government and its means of control, got co-opted as a place to sell product and the basis for the mass consumption.

Mass consumption in many ways enforces a reality that keeps us blind to the hidden sentence that stays tucked away behind the difficulty. For our entertainment we are given to music which as one write has aptly described in the followign scence:

…Still he had been touched in a way by there brand of music, where they, too, try to get away from the weight of routine and the crushing misery of having to do the same thing every day. . .  While it’s playing, they can shuffle about or a whole with a life that has no meaning. …..[...]… Nobody can resist music. You don’t know what to do with your heart, you’re glad to give it away. At the bottom of all music you have top hear the tune without notes, made jut for us, the tune of Death.

-Celine Journey to the End of the Night

So Now the Question:

Why does America give a fuck about Dick Clark dying?

Dick Clark the Symbol

Since the mass majority of us did not know Dick Clark personally, it is clear to me, especially by all the media attention that he was an important symbol,  his presence on the TV symbolized something the mass majority of us identify with.

To me Dick Clark was a symbolic representation of the deep seated American fear of its own mortality individually as well collectively. He was America’s oldest teenager meaning he was the person who represented a steadfastness to keep one’s head in the sand while the world around hims changed and moved onwards.

I remember being a teenager. In retrospect I can describe it as being perpetually stuck between two extremes: the blissful ignorance of childhood, and the bitter cynicism of adult responsibility and empty pleasure. I wouldn’t want to be called America’s oldest teen. [Btw- I hated being a teen, no one took me seriously, no lady wanted to open her frontal orifice up for probing or exploration for the simple fact that I have a winning smile.] Dick Clarke symbolize our being terrible stuck at a crossroads. He was for me a scene from Waiting for Godot perpetually stuck at a crossroad.

We (the USA) are at a point where we haven accepted and embraces ourselves and our history for what it is and most of us want to be left alone. We don’t want to see the fallout victims of the wars we are waging. We don’t want to talk about the poor and hungry Americans. We just want our tunes to drown out the sounds of our hearts and soul dying as we consumer more and more without stopping to breathe. Why? because life has already passed us by but like Mr Clarke post-stroke we force ourselves to continue on when here is no need to.

I’d Pretty much come  to the point, the age you might say, when a man knows what he’s losing  with every hour that passes. But he hasn’t yet built up the wisdom to pull up sharp on the road of time, and anyway, even if you did stop you wouldn’t know what to do without the frenzy for going forward  that has possessed you and won your admiration ever since you were young. Even now you’re not so pleased with your youth as you used to be, but you don’t dare admit in public that youth may be nothing more than hurrying to grow old.

In the whole of your absurd past you discover so much that’s absurd, so much deceit and credulity, that i might be a good idea to stop being young this minute, to wait for youth to break away from you and pass you by, to watch it going away receding in the distance, to see all its vanity, run your hand throught eh empty spac eit left behind, take a last look at it, and then start moving, make sure your youth has really gone, then calmly, all by yourself, cross to the other side of Time, to see what people and things really look like. 

-Celine Journey to the End of the Night

Dick Clarke The Man
RIP, Rest in Peace!

BTW- Because I am a NY’er it doesn’t mean I like the ball dropping New Years Eve thing. Outside of battling the advances of a dark deep-seated  loneliness with absorption ability of a tube sock, I don’t like watching the ball drop on New Years Eve, unless that is the name the girl I’m with that night used to dance under, then let the ball(s) drop irresponsibly, chin and all.

The Question from TheSandyTongueBlog here

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A random pic taken my MrMary while on one of our dates. Brooklyn Promenade on a foggy day, best way to see the Manhattan Skyline

A Deconstructed Date in Response to TheSandyTongue’s The First Honest Dating Profile(NSFW)


“Boring damned people. All over the earth. Propagating more boring damned people. What a horrorshow. The earth is swarmed with them.” – Bukowski

I’ve been called many things crazy, out of control, etc but boring was never one of them. The Sandy tongue posted what I consider the funniest thing I read so far all year other than the classic debauchery tale Night in a Moorish Harem in his “The First Honest Dating Profile (NSFW)”. My lady at the time flew in from Los Angeles to see me, as I had flown to LA to see her. We had one of this Hollywood romances  we were pen pals first, then friends then flying to see each other. When she landed  I said to myself I don’t wanna have the normal boring date thing so lemme go a little crazy and be myself  and genuine with things.

The Meet-Up

We meet up and there is the greeting and right after, I tell her, “I actually like you so I didn’t make any muthafucking plans we gonna it and do it big. She looks at me then laughs. I told her: ” I was thinking about you on the way over here and I drew these perverted pictures for you in the style of Toulouse-Lautrec, I’ve never been to a whore house but I know about love and itches.”  I had found a memo pad in my house so I spent my time riding from Bklyn to the city on the train her drawing pictures. I had discovered I could draw when I had an internship at the Metropolitan museum of Art in High school. So I drew a lot of cocks unfortunately with famous historical quotes or commercial slogans like: Speaks softly and Carry a big stick, or makes mouth happy or odd words like Glockenschpiel,  Dick Luger (An American Senator) and Thick Loaf completely random bullshit. I also drew a lot of boobies with oddly placed hairy moles.  I also drew this one easy girl we all new in college named Big Tits Rosario thinking of a grocery list with all sorts of meat. Suffice it to say after she laughed for a good 10 minutes and inquired what was wrong with me, we  continued onward.

The Random Trip

I told her first train station we see we get on it and we will see where it takes us. We took the E train to the last stop we laughed and joked on the way, talked about friend and family, I flexed my chest muscles for her like that SNL skit and talked in a German accent (I’m great at mimicking accents plus I studied German for a bit long ago)  about how I had to grease myself in vegetable oil to be disciplined by my schoolmaster. More laughs and people looking at me, she gets embarassed and red in the face while laughing uncontrollably.

We get out of the E train and I get all serious. I tell her that I know she is apprehensive and a nice classy lady. I inform her that while I will be flirting and trying to get in her pants I want her to know from the get go what she is getting into. Long story short I flashed her and some tourist on the way to see ground Zero which is right off of the last stop of the E-train.

Deconstructed the Date but saved It

So far I did everything one can do to destroy a date, to damn it to that ring of hell where the ancient greeks stay and they do everything ass-backwards literally. You know despite their philosophy and egregious buggery the ancient Greeks never created a donut to sit on, I guess their were really spartan and laconic about dealing with pain ( Did u see what I did there with the words laconic and spartan look up the etymology if u didnt see it)

A random pic taken my MrMary while on one of our dates. Brooklyn Promenade on a foggy day, best way to see the Manhattan Skyline

I took her to a famous pizza place, imitated all the different NY accents on the way,  then we went to the museum to check out the European painting. She was/is an artist so it was a nice touch I told her some obscure facts about some of the painters we ended up talking about the homosexual relationship between Salvador Dali and Garcia Lorca the poet early in their youth.  I wanted to show her the city as a NY’er sees it. So we walked a lot showed her how and where to jump the turnstyle to get into the train station.  Where to get the best I turned on the charm and romance and we had a nice romantic walk by the River bought her some flowers. She really had a good time and probably because she was a bit kind, and had years of partying like a rock star under her belt I am accepted me as being a little off.

The Ending

We walked so much and had so much fun we just kind of passed on the couch/bed, all the itinerant porking happened another day but even my mother was suprised she stuck around and came up with a theory why.

My mom said that she (my lady at the time) had worked in special education and was used to dealing with and I quote ” Weirdo, retards, and all sorts of messed up people and her years of experience  doing that prepared her for me”

Silly imitation of a baptist preacher seeing the light, whatever that is, it looks blurry because I'm jumping and cavorting around like the spirits got me

Things are different now, that was 9 years ago. I got a lot of my crazies out and probably would tone things down a lot a bit, low level shit like dressing up as a homeless person, dying my hair weird colors , frying  plaintains in the nude as per a dare and to prove a point that if one is careful has good technique the oil wont spatter about everywhere, prank phone calls, doing my baptist pastor preaching outside a closed church

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rhuino

Rhinos, Method Acting & Bludgeoning in Search of Masculinity but not like that


Method Acting

You all know that I love method acting, especially when it comes to playing the more visceral roles, specifically those of animals that can serve as clear, obvious phallic references.

I really had gotten into Stanislavski when I walked in on my parents having coffee from a deep drunken dark rum-induced slumber, a bit more turgid than needed to be. I was able to turn thing around by explaining to them that I had gone full method. I had to run around as a rhino to  be able to get into Berenger’s Final Monologue, and having an erection was the only way to pierce through to the emotional  :

Hélas, je suis un monstre, je suis un monstre. Hélas, jamais je ne deviendrai un rhinocéros, jamais, jamais ! Je ne peux plus changer, je voudrais bien, je voudrais tellement, mais je ne peux pas. Je ne peux plus me voir. J’ai trop honte ! ( Il tourne le dos à la glace. ) Comme je suis laid ! Malheur à celui qui veut conserver son originalité !
( Il a un brusque sursaut. ) Eh bien, tant pis ! Je me défendrai contre tout le monde ! Ma carabine, ma carabine ! ( Il se retourne face au mur du fond où sont fixées les têtes des rhinocéros, tout en criant : ) Contre tout le monde, je me défendrai ! Je suis le dernier homme, je le resterai jusqu’au bout ! Je ne capitule pas !
RIDEAU.

Side Note About the Play: (skip over this) Over the course of three acts, the inhabitants of a small, provincial French town turn into rhinoceroses; ultimately the only human who does not succumb to this mass metamorphosis is the central character, Bérenger, a flustered everyman figure who is often criticized throughout the play for his drinking and tardiness. The play is often read as a response and criticism to the sudden upsurge of Communism, Fascism and Nazism during the events preceding World War II, and explores the themes of conformity, culture, mass movements, philosophy and morality.

The White Rhino

As I am a consummate profession I continued my research on rhinos and I learned that it’s difficult for the White Rhino to breed in captivity. They will breed once but afterwards if there arent enough males around they wont breed. There has to be competition and the normal aggressive displays of territorial angst that the male gender of many species are known for, when in search of a mate willing to be bludgeoned. This need for territorial angst and posturing is further buttressed by the fact that when the few males in the enclosures are on friendly terms with each other breeding doesn’t takes place.

The Impact (See what I did there)

While its convenient to think that because of our nuclear bombs, striped toothpaste and Ryan Seacrest‘s continued presence on the television that we are in some way extremely sophisticated, or that we have long transcended the trappings of our animal nature, this is clearly not so. Social complexity aside the mass majority of us (myself included) wake up, raise children, shit, eat, release pheromones when excited, communicate through body language, kill other life forms for food, have sex , i.e live like animals.

I have been reading the lovely blog called Raising My Rainbow. For those of you who don’t know Raising My Rainbow is a blog about “the adventures in raising a slightly effeminate, possibly gay, totally fabulous son.” It has really made me think  about what are the qualities/features we define masculinity by? While pondering on this question I happened to read a blog post by ever-alluring daterofboys on sensitive and effeminate boys

Again I grew up really sheltered and really old school and went to an all boys Catholic School where the running and constant joke was about buggery or homosexuality. When I was younger it was very clear how a man should act and look:

    1. You had to work (A dude who doesn’t work isn’t a man)
    2. You had to look after people/things i.e lil sister, house, the car when its double parked, porn stash
    3. You couldn’t cry in front of people, or show any signs of weakness, or inferiority.
    4. You didn’t wear low-rider jeans, plunging V line shirts,  capris, you didn’t talk w/ a lisp, you didn’t wear pink, never had long hair, no piercings, said stuff with your chest out
    5. You had to dress sharp which mean handkerchiefs, collared shirts,  regular shave, nice pairs of leather, shoes, nice belt colored socks, 2 regular suits, church wear, jeans for outings involving nature and repairing and fixing crap around the house work.
    6. One held doors open for ladies and was chivalrous
    7. Had to work out or do some sorta sports to keep in shape
    8. Had to take a punch even if you didnt win a fight

The Reality

As much as I tried to distance myself from certain aspects of my upbringing that’s how I was brought up.  When I am eating in a Chelsea restaurant or eatery and the table behind me has a nice gay couple making out and there is under the table action and I am hearing: “Yes!!!, Yes!!!,…. Wait till we get to my place” it makes me a little uncomfortable. When a 6’4 man with a  bushy beard in  a pink tutu and high heels near Union Sq asks me how to get to Heralds SQ, I am initially all kinds of confused and thrown off but then I get over it Sometimes I clearly don’t have the maturity all the times not to laugh and make a joke out of thing did you know I can mimic voices  and  mannerism (not well of course) enough to make people laugh.

But on a serious note, no one should be discriminated against because of sexual preference. During my younger days anything different was ignore and never mentioned. It kind of makes me feel some what of a dinosaur when friends invited me to LIPS a drag place that some have said:

Review1: Bootties, babes, and boobies are typically the theme of any good Drag show, and Lips followed suit well! Fun will be had by all with the sexy dances by the Ladies, raunchy humor of the MC, and wild energy in the room! All birthday ladies and bachelorettes are called up to the stage for their 15 seconds of fame, or should I say public shame, to snap a photo and receive a brownie. What to be aware of to share with your celebrating party.

Review2: We took mom for her Birthday! WOOT!!  she was not the only one in for a surprise! lol. You have to be a real man to take the flirting from these “women”.  For the “men” like me, just keep in mind its all part of the show. They take all birthday people up on stage, have fun with them, and each get a little bday cake/brownie !! its cute.

For starters I usually give the lady of my interest a brownie for free, charging for a brownie wtf is that ? My female friend and partner in crime MsSexyTime  called me a dinosaur for not going with her to LIPS for the Bitchy Bingo and the show afterwards.

I have had some cool conversation about this and felt why not extend it here to the net to hear what everyone has to say. I  hope to wrap up this series called Bludgeoning in Search of Masculinity but not like that , with an interview with the TheSandyTongue a man’s man.

Stay Tuned !!!

MrMary

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Thinking out loud for a lil bit


I got this nice comment the other day from Big Sexy, the author of TheSandyTongue. It became the  inspiration for this rambling post. Thanks to all of you who read my non-sense and leave comments. Special shout out to Big Sexy – next time I’m in Florida we’re getting plastered, drinks on me

Although we are from different worlds, I feel we are somewhat kindred spirits. In one post, you spin a hilarious story filled with debauchery laced “fuck yous” to society and in the next post you present the absolute human aspect of your personal experience. I feel I do the same, I enjoy it and I always enjoy your posts. You bring an incredibly profound perspective of real life to these pages and for that I thank you. I’m a sheltered white boy from Florida who grew up with a silver spoon in his mouth and didn’t experience real life until recently. You are my exact opposite and I think that’s why I like you so much.

__________

Hell is yourself and the only redemption is when a person puts himself aside to feel deeply for another person.
Tennessee Williams

Despite being baptized Catholic, getting all those sacrament thingies, and 14 years of a Catholic education I never bought into the whole idea of hell or heaven. To me, perhaps because of the harshness of some experiences in my life, I found meaning in the fact that the ‘now’ is all we have, and what counts is intention with which we approach things.

The only thing that really stirs me in a deeper sense, aside from the annual prostate exam is of course interacting with people beyond the superficial banter and back and forth. My friends and family used to joke and call me the friend of the friendless due to the stray animals I have fed, the homeless people who  I sit with or bring food too, the weird people who always find me on the bus and train, and other’s like this one older middle aged woman who just sat down next to me on a bench in Central Park (it’s right behind my workplace) and was telling me about her divorce and how unhappy she was. Sometimes the greatest thing to do for a person is to sit in silence and let them unburden themselves.

I find that after all those experiences we are all sheltered, we are all encapsulated in the story, or rather what we have perceived of it, of our own life. I have seen that although we communicate more and more through the internet we are ironically enough so very cut off from each other, I see this the most in how men and women get along or interact. We get so wrapped up in trying to be safe and control things more to our liking that we miss out really.

I remember once I was living in a place that is sorta hood but not and I was rushing to get some groceries to cook something for me and my lady at the time and I while in the express lane I offer a tattoo’d crazed looking thug with only a bottle of ketchup to go in front of me. He smile and told me its cool baby, I got out of prison a bit ago and its so amazing just to buy ketchup. He said he has all the time in the world.  I gave him a pound told [fist bump plus pat on the back] and told him I’m glad he came through and wished him the best. It was freeing for both of us in the moment.

I always feel that if we accept the reality of how life is we find that we can really come together  in meaningful ways when necessary, I don’t want to come together when I’m just sweaty out the gym, or using the showers that would be uncomfortable, unless it’s a co-ed shower, ladies  a little stiffness in your muscles wont be so bad  after all the work out warmed you up ( and I am back… I can only be serious for so long.)

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Any life is made up of a single moment


Any life is made up of a single moment, the moment in which a man finds out, once and for all, who he is.
Jorge Luis Borges

This quote came to mind when I read on TheSandyTongue BigSexy’s(the author of that blog) first experience of death. It was a very moving and touching experience and Im sure it will make you approach Tuesday morning differently. I thought, being inspired I would share with you all one aspect this singular moment for me is something that over the years become more and more felt.

Return From LA

I was returning from Los Angeles. I had seen my then lady and met her family and was flying back to NYC. I feel into a deep sleep right after take off and had one of those strange prophetic dreams. In the dream I had to fight for my life against an endless stream of just dudes, which i did and then I saw myself sitting down next to and old lady crying. She told me I am about to go through an immense deal of pain, and that it hasn’t been decided if I may die but not to worry in either case. She told me a bunch of things else I don’t remember, about life and my own life and then she said bye to me.

Once she said bye to me, I immediately felt a sharp pain in my back. I woke up groggy as if I had been asleep for days, covered in sweat. We had flown into turbulence a terrible storm and though the cabinw as pressurized there was a dip in the partial pressure of Oxygen and I had a sickle cell attack. The most intense one to date. I could barely talk, and was slow and lethargic and the pain got worse and worse and I started to sweat more. I found out we were 45 minutes into a 6 hour flight. I was certain not from the dream but the intensity of the pain that I was going to die. I said my good-byes to everyone in my heart just in case I was on my way out and I prepared myself to go with some dignity if I had to go.

Side Note

What happens under stress, is that my blood cells change to a sickle shape and they clog arteries and major vessels. Luckily in my life my pains (caused by these blockages) have been localized to my knees and back. I’m quite lucky, if they were to happen in other places, i could get a stroke or heart attack

btw If your curious about Sickle Cell Disease click this

Pain episodes experienced by patients with sickle cell disease vary tremendously in frequency and severity. Some patients rarely have painful crises, while others spend the greater part of a given year in the hospital receiving analgesics. To complicate matters further, the pattern of pain varies over time, so that a patient who has a particularly severe year may later have a prolonged period characterized by only minor pain. The frequency and severity of pain episodes often change as a person moves from childhood to being an adult. Patients can develop agonizingly severe pain in as little as 15 minutes. In other instances, the pain gradually escalates over hours or even days. 

The Passion of MrMary

People tell you life is short and that’s bullshit. Five hours and 15 minutes of pure agony, feels like lifetimes. An hour past and I looked like I had gone for a swim. I felt myself starting to fade into and out of consciousness and remember thinking “aint this some bullshit, I am going to go without hearing anything but the wind and propellors, not even a chance to look up at the sky again.”

It was at this time the older woman sitting next to me saw me and I think we talked for a minute, eventually she signalled the crew for me.They asked if there was anything I need and I said water, they offered pain killers so they gave me 3 aspirin. Generally if I was in the ER they would have put me on and opiod analgesic.

They alerted Chicago O’ Hare that they may have a sick patient who needs medical attention. However I was adamant that I would rather die (literally) than to stop the plane. I said imagine how many people would be inconvenienced for one person. They thought I was off, and left me alone because it took some focus and energy to speak, but they sent someone to check on me quite often. (Love Jet Blue)

The Sincerest Convo Ever

The women who got the crew for me decided to talk to me and keep me “here”. It was one of the kindest acts someone has ever done for me. You cannot have a more sincere conversation with someone than when you think you are gonna die. She was a producer and worked for NBC on doing documentaries. She worked on one recently at the time about the struggles in Northern Ireland. I regaled her with my knowledge of Northern Ireland politics I had ascertained at the time and made her laugh a bit or two (No dirty jokes though -I can be quite charming).

Before I knew it NYC was an hour away. I figured somewhere it was decided that I was  going to live a bit more. We talked some more but I don’t remember what about. My mind wasn’t fully there. Once we landed and the air pressure was normal the pain left and I could walk around still slow though. But the damage internal was done it took over a month to healed and move around normally. What I mean by this was that every time I tried to make fast movements, I would be beset with a horrible pain. I stayed at home and rested then I was back at work in my laboratory 2-3 days later taking things glacially slow.

Of course it was just my luck that there was a Blackout a few days later in NYC and I had to walk 5 hours in the summer sun to get home. It was also my luck that I was never able to contact the lady who helped me out a lot and say thanks, she lived in Conn and had a connecting flight to catch. She gave me a big hug and told me to hang in there and ran off.

After that..

After that, it was hard to take a lot of stuff seriously or get caught up in a lot of the BS. I went a little mad, in the good sense, somewhere in that world of pain there was a taste of being free. Reminds me of something I read today, not saying that I am free at all  but it rings a bell somewhere

Take someone who doesn’t keep score, 
who’s not looking to be richer, or afraid of losing, 
who has not the slightest interest even 
in his own personality: he’s free.” 

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bootstoAsses

Counting the Tanks at the Vatican: The Circus of Life by TheSandyTongue & MrMary


We’re all going to die, all of us, what a circus! That alone should make us love each other but it doesn’t. We are terrorized and flattened by trivialities, we are eaten up by nothing.”
―Charles Bukowski

_________________

The Sandy Tongue speaks

Something that has always intrigued me about brilliant people is that often their quotes can transcend time and remain applicable to society no matter what the era. Like many people, I’m a fan of Bukowski and the quote above is a perfect illustration of transcending time.

The other night I went to dinner at a local sports bar with my wife and two of our children. While sitting at the table, I watched my daughters incessantly texting and checking their Facebook accounts. Then I realized my wife and I were also entranced by our IPhones. I looked around at the rest of the people in the restaurant and same exact scene; even the elderly were electronically engaged.

I then looked around the restaurant and couldn’t decide which of the 100 televisions to gaze at. SENSORY OVERLOAD. We all took about a 10 second break to order our drinks and meals, then right back to our electronics. Holy Shit, what has happened?

“We are terrorized and flattened by trivialities, we are eaten up by nothing.” Brilliant Mr. Bukowski, pure brilliance. In the time span of one dinner sitting, I was literally eaten up by nothing. I was consumed by everything unimportant, by everything that really doesn’t mean shit in the grand scheme of life. A 100 televisions all blabbering about nothing, absolutely nothing. Status updates, checking in and texts about absolutely nothing.

Uhm only image I could find for Instant Gratification

I understand that I am part of the problem. Instant gratification is intoxicating and I love it. I love to get an email that tells me the exact moment when someone likes or comments on one of my posts. I can’t get enough of it. I enjoy being loved and appreciated just like the next wandering fool looking for an audience.

Life has always been a circus, but right now that circus is delivered to individuals instantly into the palm of their hand. I know what the Kardashians shit smells like before it falls out of their powdered assholes. I know about a politician’s dirty secret before he fucks the intern. I know about the wardrobe malfunction before the nipple is exposed.

We all are going to die and it should make us love each other, but guess what? It doesn’t. Most of us are so consumed and blinded by trivialities and nothingness that we can’t see through the fog. We can’t see what’s actually real in this world. And this my friend, is why Bukowski was a genius and why China will probably win.

We are drunk from our sadistic need to know everything about everyone instantly. And we will pay the price. I think Bukowski was on to something. Get drunk, write, fuck, repeat. What else is there really?

Big Sexy aka TheSandyTongue

MrMary Takes the Mic

It would be erroneous to think that the displays of heightened sagacity from which we have derived the taxonomic appellation for our species (Homo sapiens sapiens) is not only holistically capable of the fullest articulation in each of us by virtue of our birth. Logically only something living can die, but what of someone imprisoned in the depth of a captivating somnolence where the appearance of living supplants in believability the actual experience of living

Very rarely has this ironic juxtaposition between the siren call of torpor and the ribald call of living been captured than in the following lines of T. Eliot’s Love of J Alfred Prufrock:

Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question. . .
Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”
Let us go and make our visit.

What is that overwhelming question ?

It is simply ‘Do you want to live?’ Living however means more than watching TV screens ad nausea, it mean more than handing over the reins of our sense, reason and what some would call our élan, our génie to whatever or whomever can make us dive deeper into our collective ’sleep’.

But it goes deeper than just reducing our dependency for gadgets and other non- necessary paraphernalia. There is something we all have to (myself included) make peace with to wake up, and that is that life is just life. It is harsh to everyone: money, religion, mystical experience, water-based lubcricant, boner medicines from Sweden, the combo of bathroom stalls irreverent fucking and an 8-balls do not ease the pain of coming to terms with life, it’s beginning middle and end.

I wonder if we can accept life as it is, in order to see what lies beyond our psychological projections, fears and that uneasy feeling you have right now in the pit of your stomach.

By the way if you turn around now you just may find 2 boots broken off in yo ass.

-MrMary’s Real Name


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mardigras

Counting Tanks at the Vatican: TheSandyTongue & MrMary Team-up to put a boot in ya Ass


So everything is necessary. Every least thing. This is the hard lesson. Nothing can be dispensed with. Nothing despised. Because the seams are hid from us, you see. The joinery. The way in which the world is made. We have no way to know what could be taken away. What omitted. We have no way to tell what might stand and what might fall.”
― Cormac McCarthy, The Crossing

____________

It seems Catholicism has spread to the Streets of Tijuana. Dominus Vobiscum

Normally when guys as bombastically sexy as MrMary and TheSandyTongue come together, women run and hide, and ironically the price of coco butter and wet napkins goes up (gonna let that marinate in your head). But unlike last time we teamed up in Tijuana when that donkey was sick and we had to take shifts pleasing loose women drunk off tequila, we are coming together for the betterment of the public. (We are both passionate about stopping animal abuse and this was a case where the size- ramifications of our natural endowment allowed us to do so without impunity or jail time.

_________________

The Little Things in Life

Being so well subsidized has freed us psychologically from having to focus on material acquisition  as a means of overcompensation. So we focus on the little things in life, those small quanta’s of meaning that pass through your radar.

Definitely Undertones here as well as handfuls of Social Identity and Nihilism

We are coming together to share some insights, thoughts, and pearls of wisdom with you all about life and the antagonistic conflict between simplicity and complexity, or as MrSandyTongue calls it, the externalization of the inward realization of one’s own mortality. Heavy stuff indeed, There are enough pearls (of wisdom) in that sentence alone to make a necklace for that special female reader using cleavage to articulate the nihilistic undertones of her social identity.

Normally two heavy weights skilled in the stylistic expression of the verdant nuances of living, shouldn’t come together. In collaborating we pool so much talent together in one place it is the mental/spiritual equivalent of a bukake film, (no picture for your sake) but of course in this case that acrid fiery stinging in your eyes, has nothing to do with me or the tube socks and high tops people in that world of visual entertainment like to wear when working.You see for years all of us have yet to learn the hard lesson of how everything has meaning, of how foolish it is to despise things and imagine we could do away and sustain a life devoid of all the things we didn’t like or agree with.  What burns your eyes is the hot rain of the many own moments of your own somnolence.

A Brief Warning and Invitation

Just like that time in Tijuana we have a lot coming down the pipeline. (We are heavily stocked with pineapple juice) However there are always issues and the predominant problem we are facing is that many people  tend to decry honest and critical writing as a being nothing more than loud, obnoxious, untimely ejaculations of vapid shock value ridden intent. And unfortunately outside of choir practice, untimely ejaculations of rapture (religious or otherwise) are frowned upon. Bottom line: stock up on napkins before prices go up, also if you would like us to tackle and serious problems you are facing  please send them in.

Stay tuned,

MrMary
TheSandyTongue