Tuesday, December 16, 2014

John Hancock

All I'm going to say is, I'm shocked a certain ex of mine never tried employing this technique.


Monday, December 15, 2014

Ratchet Is As Ratchet Does

You're going to ask me what the value of this video is. I'm going to tell you that I honestly don't know. But there are good looking women in it, so...put it on mute if you wish.


Daddy Gets Served

This is goddamn adorable. When this girl is a star in 20 years, remember watching this video.

From E! Online:
Usually people are challenged to a dance battle on the streets or in the club—and sometimes you're called out in your own living room. That's what happened to Sharidon Johnson, who was just trying to complete some chores around the house when he was faced with an unexpected dance battle challenge from none other than his daughter.

"Was pulling up the carpet and listening to old school hip hop...," he wrote with the YouTube clip. "My daughter comes up to me and says 'Dad lets Dance battle!' Let's do it!"

With mom behind the camera, Johnson and his little girl began going head-to-head to "Electric Relaxation (Relax Yourself Girl)" by A Tribe Called Quest.


Monday Kickstart: A Little Sump'n

The truth is, most of us probably don't qualify as "good." We've all got skeletons, we've all got demons. On the grand scale of things, most people are going to fall right in the middle between "naughty" and "nice." But, even though Santa's judgemental ass doesn't have love for us, feel secure in knowing that Sump'n Claus has our backs.



I say down with Santa and his elitist ways. We need someone who's a true man of the people. Sump'n Claus' time has come.

To motivate you this week, we give you another beautiful entity who only wants to share her gifts with the world, the spine-tingling Miss Christina Ripple:


Those eyes say naughty things that not even Santa could hate on. Let's go.

Monday, December 8, 2014

Monday Kickstart: When the Beat Knocks...

Two surefire ways to start your week moving in the right direction: (1.) A cute toddler, and (2.) dubstep.

From Tastefully Offensive:
This cute 2-year-old boy named Tegan proves that you don't need years of experience to be an impressive dancer. Watch and prepare to be stunned as he slowly works up to some epic dance moves around the one-minute mark in this adorably awesome parking lot routine set to a dubstep remix of Flight Facilities' "Crave You".



Since it's Monday morning, I'll put aside the argument that I'm sure many will raise regarding the legitimacy of this being considered "dancing," and revel in the video's sheer cuteness. This feels like the sequel to Chappelle's white-people-can-dance skit. I half expected to hear him come in from off-camera with a "John, drop the—DROP THE BASSLINE!"

This week's inspiration is a lovely lass by the name of Caitlin Rice. What makes her so inspiring, you ask?

A photo posted by ��Caitlin R.�� (@caitlinricefit) on


It has you like...yup. Let's go.

Saturday, December 6, 2014

Oppression


No Justice, No Peace



I’m struggling to put together my thoughts. I’ve been processing this for days—really, for months. My conscience tells me there’s something I should be saying. My brain tells me there’s nothing I can say that hasn’t already been said—that hasn’t already been ignored.

I’ve been impassioned by the measures of the minority acting on behalf of a minority, those protesting peacefully-but-forcefully in Ferguson, MO and the glittering metropolises like New York City, Los Angeles, and London. I’ve been horrified, in turn, by their counterparts, a much more minor minority, that has attempted to lay siege to the former’s legitimacy by burning buildings and looting livelihoods that never truly stood in their way.

I’ve been intrigued by the intelligent study of the few, men and women of education and understanding who’ve lent their thoughtful analysis to the evidence put forward. And I’ve been haunted by the words of fewer still: my fellow members of this odd first-and-a-half-person-perspective citizenship. Like them, my flesh didn’t absorb the bullets and my neck didn’t get squeezed free of air, but my soul has nevertheless felt the weight of hopelessness and sorrow.

I can only speak on behalf of those with whom I share this bond, this feeling of disenfranchisement. And for us, the emotion of it all is an important factor. It’s what’s missing for those who coldly deny our right to anger, our right to express outrage. For them, the topic has nothing to do with emotion. It’s a police officer using his standard-issue weapon or training to bring down an aggressive suspect. For these people, the situation is cause and effect. It’s black and white.

It’s black and white for us, too.

As a black member of American society, you feel eyes on you with every moment that you live in public domain. I’ve often wondered what it must be like to be a white face in an American crowd, moving unnoticed amongst a sea of similarity. To walk one city block without feeling like the people walking past, the people driving by, and the people looking out of their windows are looking directly and most specifically at you. I’ve had white friends spend a couple of hours in a nightclub or a part of town that is predominantly black, and express to me how out of place they felt. How they felt like everyone was staring at them. And they’ve told me this without a slightest twinge of irony, and with no insinuation that maybe it felt so weird for them because our roles had reversed. Not once did they manage to observe the greater truth: That this minor inconvenience, this brief moment of uncomfortableness that might have accounted for 0.05% of their day, was the feeling that I had throughout the other 99.95% of it.

For white Americans, a police uniform is a symbol of safety, honor, and protection. When trapped in an uncomfortable situation, whether race-related or not, a white person—I assume—would gravitate toward that uniform, no matter the skin color of the person wearing it. To a white American, a cop’s uniform is a knight’s armor striding towards them.

For black Americans, a police uniform is a symbol of absolutism, oppression, and tyranny. When at peace in a comfortable situation, whether in a black neighborhood or a white one, a black person—there’s no assumption here—will feel a cold chill at sight of that uniform, no matter the skin color of the person wearing it. To a black American, a cop’s uniform is a menacing storm cloud advancing upon us.

So often, in the past several weeks, I’ve seen white men and women argue that this trepidation, this fear of the police is entirely our own fault. Why surely, if you’re not doing anything wrong, if you’re not acting like a “thug,” if you’re not committing a crime, then you have nothing to be afraid of. Until you understand that this line of thinking has no bearing when you’re black in America, you will never understand our fear.

Obeying the law does not guarantee your safety when you’re black in America. Until you’ve been pulled out of car and searched, while your friends—who are all white—sit in that same car, unmolested; until you’ve been stopped on a sidewalk and questioned, for no other reason than you were there; until you’ve been handcuffed and sat on the curb in front of the house you earned with years of blood, sweat and tears because you “look suspicious,” you will never understand our fear.

Tamir Rice was playing with a toy. Eric Garner was standing outside a store (and, though he was allegedly selling loosies, that deed is a misdemeanor that rarely attracts the attention of one patrolman, let alone six). Akai Gurley was walking down a stairwell with his girlfriend. These are not thuggish, menacing acts. Absent of race, these behaviors would barely register a raised eyebrow. Yet each has resulted in a loss of life. These are not hardened criminals taking their lives into their own hands. These are people going about their own business, just as white Americans do every day, without fear of losing everything that the Rice, Garner, Gurley, and Brown families, and countless others like them, have lost.


In these days, these hours, these nights, these lifetimes, we’ve found ourselves tied to the victims’ families by an unfathomable blood bond, one that goes deeper than last names and family trees. We feel one with them and their pain, if only because we know that they understand.

Friday, December 5, 2014

Thursday, December 4, 2014

Throwback Thursday: "It's All About Me" -- Mya ft. Dru Hill

Don't worry; when this video launched her into the spotlight in early '98, Mya was of age. ...I think.

*checks Wikipedia*

Yup, she was 19 (*exhales*). Which is just about the right age, I suppose, to be singing an ode to being selfish in the bedroom. This has to be the one and only time someone has simulated sex while wearing a fencing outfit.


Monday, December 1, 2014

Muppet Hooray

Does there need to be an explanation or lead-in for this? Can't we just enjoy the obscure beauty of the Muppets singing "Hip Hop Hooray"?



Smooth it out now...

Monday Kickstart: Booty Had 'Em

Since some of you us are going through a painful bout of withdrawal after three days of turkey, cranberry sauce, and lots of shots (*raises hand* guilty of all three!) on this first day of December, here's something to put a smile on your face (and maybe teach you something in the process)...



I haven't been to NYC in 25 years, and I was seriously concerned that I was going to make a guest appearance in that video. *double checks YouTube for versions filmed in Pittsburgh*

And for the final splash of cold water across your face, here's this week's inspiration, Ms. Lara Cole:


Guess now you need the cold water splashed elsewhere. You'll have to take care of that on your own, sinner.

Let's go.

Monday, November 24, 2014

Monday Kickstart: Pop Culture

Thanks to YouTube, you can once again watch TV commercials that you watched as a kid. But when you do, you quickly realize just how disturbingly far from reality the writing of those ads strayed. And if you were to crossbreed that TV-commercial-universe with real life... Well, you'd get this masterpiece by Aubrey Plaza and her pals.



I bet you'll be randomly singing that jingle to yourself all day. Ring Pop!

This week's inspiration is a woman I would be proud to have wearing my Ring Pop, Ms. Samantha Rodríguez:


Te amo. Let's go.

Monday, November 17, 2014

Gettin' Real Tired of Your Shit

Pat ain't having it anymore.


Monday Kickstart: A Kinda New Day

The archaic laws of this country are slowly changing to adapt to modern day science and education. The key word there being "slowly."



One of the many reasons I'd like to hit the PowerBall: To have enough money that I wouldn't have to worry about getting caught up by pointless laws like those that criminalize marijuana use. Maybe one day we'll just admit that even the most powerful people in America, the people whose dollars operate the strings on the politicians who make the laws, like to toke up. And we'll all just move on. Maybe.

Time for this week's inspiration. There are many things I look for in the lady who I choose as the week's Kickstart model. Poise. Sophistication. Elegance. A bangin' body and a face that could launch a thousand ships to war. This week's choice, Ms. Terann Hilow, certainly has ample amounts of all of that. But what put her over the top is posing in an Oakland Raiders bikini:


As a lifelong Raiders fan, I can say without hesitation that this is the best that shield has looked for over a decade. Let's go.