Category Archives: Sex

Utility of Man

A man reincarnate through the creation of his children will evoke a specific distaste for his now divided body. He has created a second him and that new him is more precious than him. He is now a tool. He is no longer a magnificent vessel. It is his duty to formulate and neccesitate his utility. Without ingenuity, he is useless.

A woman will not seek utility where it does not appear. Her longing for the body of the man will subside with the division of it and creation of a child. She is no longer intrigued by his undivided body. It has for once served its natural purpose. The new part of him embodied in her reincarnate of them is more precious, and the body incasing the soul of the child is now the adornment of her concious motives. She is now complete and useful.

A man with ingenuity will make himself useful. He will observe he is no longer a spectacle within the nativity apparatus and will divide his motivated attention. His new destiny is filled with the will to accommodate and secure time and space. The ingenious man divided and reincarnate is no longer a unit of ambiguity. He is certain and defined. He is not formless in philosophy. He is rigid in principle. He is useful.



I’m In Love With The CoCo: A Critical Analysis

“Con coco o sin coco?” Is what brothers and sisters ask when you ask them if they have any weed to smoke in the Dominican Republic. With cocaine or without cocaine? In the Dominican Republic cocaine is a more socially accepted drug of choice than marijuana. Weed is actually looked down upon in the way smoking crack is looked upon here in the United States. This was a very bizarre state of affairs when I realized the ramifications of such a construct. This meant that in the Dominican Republic, I was a crack head and the coke heads were the laid back stoners. My how the truth can be malleable and ambiguously obscure.

When I went to a close friend’s potluck a week ago, who is actually Dominican himself, I kept hearing him and his cousin yell out “I’m in love with the coco!” They finally played the video for everyone and we all were glued to the monitor as we watched a man sitting at a kitchen table with his friends, seemingly spreading powdered cocaine over it with playing cards and rolling up blunts. How simply sensational of a sight I thought! Who cannot relate to this image? How can you not see how relevant this scene is? I thought all of this at the same time as I thought how disgusting the video was. The mundaneness of what Hip Hop or Rap has degraded to. Who could support such garbage! These were the conflicting debates floating in my mind as I continued to stare and listen to what one of our good friends from college described as a nursery rhyme. He was right. The lyrics were so simple a two year old could recite and comprehend them after one listen. It was actually kind of disturbing to think of the influence this video will have on younger viewers.

It was stuck in my head. I walked home with my girlfriend singing “I’m in love with the coco” out loud. We would both laugh and shake our heads at our own senseless embarrassment and juxtaposed affinity for the simple yet catchy tune. I asked her to play it again when we got home. We watched the whole thing, twice. I watched it again, alone with my headphones. I bobbed my head. I lip synced the single syllable lyrics to myself. I smiled at the screen. I enjoyed it. It was addictive.

The beat! The foundation of the auditory retention is the low frequency of the sub bass line in the background music. The engineer of the musical score synthesized the reverberations of the low tones very well, and in unison the sound effects which work congruently with the bass are mesmerizing. If there were no lyrics, the song will still have a profound affect onto the listener. I can imagine watching the video with the instrumental only and still fully understanding the theme of the song. Without a doubt, like many other current rap hits, the beat carries the song and without it I sincerely believe it would not work or feel the same. The producer and his engineer did an excellent job.

The lyrics are simple, as already stated. However, the lyrics are contrasting to what is the current political atmosphere in the Black community. Whether Genasis intended to cause a debate or not is not the question. He has most certainly done so. While at my friend’s potluck, I recall a divide amongst all who were watching the video. Some loved it. Some hated it. I did find myself somewhere in the middle. The melody of the lyrics and the cadence of the rhyme took me back to “con coco o sin coco” in the Dominican Republic. It reminded me of a time and place when and where I was unsure of my political stance on drugs and what is socially on the fence, and what is totally overboard. I will not promote violence and I believe guns should be used only for protection, however I was reminded of the G Thang video when the guy had the pistol tucked into the back of his pants while working the barbecue pit. The guns looked real and I looked at them closely. I was drawn to them the same way I have always been when watching a movie or television show. This video was no different. This was a good rap video. If we must separate Hip Hip and Rap to achieve a sense of clarity and social aptness in our culture and responsibility to our community then I say this is an excellent rap video.

Whether Genasis will stand the test of the fickle music industry is oh but yet to be seen. I for one could not care less how things play out, but best of luck to him and his family. As for this record, very disturbing yet highly intriguing. It is extremely interesting how the same thing can be done in so many ways and still one out of the million appears and feels so different. This one was like tasting something different in a corner store bottled water and thinking “wow, what is this?” Only to look and see it is Poland Spring with a new logo and feeling unconsciously satisfied with what you perceive as something new.


The Sexual Potency Of A Farm Bred People

Once there was a time when our fathers and our mothers were together in nature. Our family was whole. Our tribe was one. Our nation was wealthy. We did not seek out false senses. That was a time when we knew who we were and understood our presence amongst a universe. In that time we could look upon our brother and our sister without shame. His and her bodies were not a work of art, but were them in their flesh. We could see each other as who and what we were together, and commune for greater meanings. There was no term for our being. We were as we were and we were loved. We could find our future within ourselves and create something beautiful without the thought of procedure, and ceremony was a family affair and not a legality.

Then one day the sons and the daughters of our fathers and our mothers were stolen to be farmed. Sentenced to a life of criminality. Their bodies were ravaged and draped in bloody soiled rags. It was a tragedy. These were our new fathers and our new mothers. They were auctioned to be bred. The purpose of their flesh was to make flesh. There was no person, only an object. Our new fathers were bulls, and our new mothers were heifers. They both could be mistreated within the new laws. They were not told, but forced. So it began they were sexual creatures. Created only to create more genetic mutations of a lusty alien inhabitant. In the new wilderness they worked for nothing and lusted to do more of nothing. The bodies of our new mothers and fathers became ornaments of promiscuity. It was no longer them in their flesh as it once was. It was the flesh on them, and then it meant more than who they were. They passed their fleshly syndrome to their children, and their children to their children. It never ceased. The body then came before the mind, as the cart had become before the horse. The godly dynamic of our mothers and fathers from our beginning was lost, and gone to be lost for eons.

Today we accept the sexual potency of the farm bred people. Our lost past is still missing in the annals of time. We cannot escape our fixation of our own flesh. We lose sleep over the thought of having to go without satisfying our lusts. We loathe a simple matching of our time with our love for the mind. It is an idea well misunderstood and no longer sought. It is deemed unnatural. Nature is now the body and its desire. It is the new realization of what a meaningful partnership is determined. To go back to where we come from is to be savage. We are the product of farm breeding and our sexual potency is the commodity which has survived with us. It must mean our survival, if not then we would be extinct. This is the belief. Although untrue, it stands as our cognitive misguided instinct. Our fathers and mothers would not understand us. They would believe we are savages.


I Guess I Shouldn’t Mind Bein Forced To Go See This.


Attn. Ladies: Shopping For Men’s Underwear


Ladies, when you’re shopping for men’s underwear for your man just stick with boxers or boxer briefs. Cause they’re the last remaining hetero-acceptable draws with the hole in the front so we don’t have to pull our pants down to piss. And don’t pay a lot for no draws cause normal men wouldn’t. Just get them from the drugstore cause they can be as little as $7 for a pack of three.

All we do with our old underwear is throw them away or turn them into rags for whiping up spilled beer and grease and motor oil. We love new underwear cause we never remember the importance of new draws. We thank you, just don’t over think it for Christmas.

Why Black Dudes Don’t Like Black Chicks


Cause Black dudes know they’re a hot commodity.

Cause Black chicks act like Black dudes ain’t shit.

Cause Black dudes don’t like being challenged.

Cause Black chicks expect too much.

Cause Black dudes ain’t trying to spend too much money.

Cause Black chicks always trying to spend money.

Cause Black dudes want a happy chick.

Cause Black chicks are bitter.

Cause Black dudes like variety.

Cause Black chicks act like they don’t need a dude.

Cause Black dudes need a supportive chick.

Cause Black chicks always talkin bad about Black dudes.

Cause Black dudes want a confident chick.

Cause Black chicks always hatin on another chick.

Cause Black dudes ain’t trying to hear all that bullshit.

Cause Black chicks think they too good for most Black dudes.

Cause Black dudes can get a Black chick if they really want one.

Cause Black chicks always at the club lookin for handouts.

Cause Black dudes see Black chicks always at the club trying to get free shit.

Cause Black chicks all got that same weak ass Louis Vuitton purse.

Cause Black dudes need some time to get they shit straight.

Cause Black chicks act like they got all they shit straight.

Cause Black dudes see chicks from other races getting asses now.

Cause Black chicks are starting to look fat.

Cause Black dudes like gettin they dick sucked.

Cause Black chicks act like they don’t suck dick.

I Am Not Boyfriend Material


1: I bottle up my emotions.

It’s not like I don’t have emotion. It’s more like I don’t really need them. Like, what good are they for anyway? It’s not like I can pay bills with them, or the train is gonna come faster if I cry about it. I know it’ll probably be better if I express myself to the woman I love and all, but then I’ll feel like a bitch. I’m no bitch. Okay, if someone really close to me passed away, then I can see me being emotional. But like, I can’t see myself getting all bent outta shape over a chick telling me I’m “immature and need to man up and take the reigns in this relationship, because I need more than just a boy. I need a man.”

2: I am not romantic.

I really can’t seem to nail this one. I’ve given this a shot before. Like, teddy bears, diamonds, expensive restaurants, candles, chocolates, surprise gifts, etc. But, I think I always ruin it when I’m like, “See!?” And it all boils down to, “what the fuck yo!? Let’s just do it!” The reality is, I don’t really wanna be romantic. I’ve heard that the right woman will bring the romance out of me. Wrong! My take on it is, the right woman won’t expect me to do corny shit.

3: I do not like spending money.

Yeah so, the word for this apparently is “cheap”. That is the most inaccurate term. I prefer the term “genius”, because I’ll spend money on shit I need. I just won’t spend my money on stupid shit. Like, what’s the difference between Dallas BBQ and that one really expensive sushi restaurant? Try like, good food and about 30 or 40 less dollars. Plus, sushi sucks! So anyway, you wanna spend all that extra dough just to say we did it. I can understand that. But, you see my face now? I didn’t have fun, and you can fucking tell.

4: I like to stay at home and sleep.

I don’t understand why this is such a huge problem. I thought everyone loved to do this. I’ve realized when you have a girlfriend, you can NEVER do this. Not because you don’t have the time, but because you’re being selfish if you do this. What the fuck is that? You can even recommend she give it a try. Guess what. Not happenin! She never just lays in bed all day. She loves to go out and experience the world every single day of her life. Fucking Google Earth it yo.

5: I do not like to dress up.

Why do I have to like, be all GQ? We’re just going to Dallas BBQ. Besides, it’s not like I was all dressed up when we first met. Reason, because I never dress up. The fact that I have to all of a sudden become Rico Suave makes me believe that I’m not really the guy she wants. I mean, if we’re going to church (which means we’re fucking married) then okay, I’ll dress up. But, having to go and totally switch up my entire wardrobe to become Maximus Douchedomus for her is just ridiculous.

6: I do not like drinking wine.

Ummm, like, wine is cool and all, but not without some beer or some shots in between, or before, or after or something. And wine tasting is a really feminine event. I’ve done it before, and felt kinda like a bitch when I was done. I like, went straight to the corner store and bought a 24 pack of beer all for myself and drank them all that same night. Nothing against getting really shit faced off wine or anything. I just don’t wanna be expected to be all holding wine glasses all faggy and shit when we go out.

7: I like to look at other women.

Alright, so it’s not like I’m gonna just go up to every hot girl in the street and have sex with her. If I could do that then I wouldn’t be talking about any of this bullshit right now. I’d be doing exactly that. Since this isn’t Fantasy Get Laid Whenever You Want World then I believe we should live in reality. It’s almost impossible to not look. And if I have to defend myself every time my eyes involuntarily wander to a new pair of ass and tits, then I’m just gonna believe I’m not with the right woman. Thing is, I’m not out to cheat or anything. So, I expect some type of flexibility, especially with my eye sockets.

8: I have friends.

“They’re the same motherfuckers I was with the day I met you.” I never understood how my friends become bargaining tools in disputes to hangout. Like, yeah I was with them yesterday, but I was with you yesterday too! And me and you hung out way longer! Having friends while you have a girlfriend can go one of two ways, both bad. The cooler your friends are, the less you need to be around them. If your friends are losers according to her then you need to drop them all together. And her friends? You can’t like them. Why? Because SHE can’t stand them. So fucking retarded yo…

9: I do not like women’s entertainment.

This should be so fucking understandable. But you know what? It’s absolutely not. Like, I wouldn’t dare wanna watch football, basketball, or any action movie, or a documentary with my girlfriend if she didn’t wanna watch it. Because I don’t want all the questions and the constant talking and touching and distractions and shit. This does not apply for television and film’s almost 80% women catered programming. Why must I have to endure the drama filled trash to prove I have a sensitive side, or care what she’s into? Fuck team Jacob yo.

10. I just want to do it.

What the fuck!? Let’s just do it!

White Girl Booty


When I was younger, and living in Houston, Texas, it never occurred to me that I was living in big booty heaven. It wasn’t until I moved away to Washington D.C. that I recognized a huge difference in the shape of Black women’s asses. Much to my surprise, I realized I was spoiled.

Now that I am older, I have a great appreciation for all types of women’s booties. Don’t get me wrong, a flat booty is a total waste, and I’d probably walk by and not give it a double take. But there are some less voluptuous shapes that a woman can have that are still highly acceptable.

We should all be familiar with the coke bottle, the apple bottom, and of course the onion. Respectively, those shapes are usually possessed by women of Black and Latin descent. That leaves a lot of races and ethnicities to wonder, “what’s my shape?”

Well, if you’re not under the category of nasatall (no ass at all), or you’re not an Asian woman, or even Guatemalan (never seen a Guatemalan fatty before), then you probably just have a white girl booty.

There’s absolutely nothing wrong with a white girl booty. It just means you have to look at other girl’s fat booties and simply admire, or go get butt injections. I’m not a fan of fake booties. But besides that, a white girl booty is actually attractive to most men, as long as it’s got shape and is no more than an inch close to being nasatall.

The picture above is a perfect example of some nice white girl booties.

Black women, Spanish woman, white women, all women alike should feel totally fine with a white girl booty. As long as you don’t have fat back, or muffin top, the shit looks sexy. Don’t alter it cosmetically, and stay in shape. You’ll do fine in some leggings, bikini, tight jeans, and all the clothes that bring out the best in your white girl booty.