On Why One should Never Remain Humble

You’ve heard the classic mantra before “stay humble” usually advice given to you by a loved one or baby boomer. But why? When One thinks about it does remaining humble in situations of distress truly make sense? To cross reference another classic african american mantra “closed mouths dont get fed” seems to imply that if One is too humble they will lose out on opportunities for success, in this case the basic human right of food.

In my personal experience, individuals who are always trying to persuade others to be humble are usually scared of something. Diggin deep into the issue One feels at its core, the philosophy of staying humble is a defensive technique implying that if you keep your guard up by keeping your head down no harm shall befall you. But this advice seems also classist in a way as the celebrities and mega rich we are taught to idolize are everything but humble. (And they get away with it)
Like anything you should probably be humble within reason but never be too humble in that you cower or forget what it means to fight back when your ass is against a wall. Being humble in a situation of duress never gets One anything but more abuse. Sometimes you gotta fuck being humble and whip your dick out.


In the blue corner…

 Weighing in at 125lbs. From the legendary kingdom of West Philadelphia, born and raised. No stranger to responsibility she raised her brother from infancy.  At the age of 18 she was the youngest Amnesty International President of the Georgia State University chapter. After the execution of a man whose case had too much doubt she discarded her title as President and took her passions to the streets. There she joined the Occupy movement and went on to bottom line the Wellhaun occupation. Now she is one of the founding mothers of the young but vigilant Occupy Our Homes Atlanta. She is the south paw of West Philly, the pride of Ethiopia, the princess of Wellhaun. She is Leila “The Alpha” Abadir!

Natural vs Chemical: How do you prefer your hair?

Before I begin, a friend asked me to do a write-up of natural hair vs permed hair for her magazine. Normally I wouldn’t be caught dead in this discussion because it’, excuse my french, fucking retarded. But I guess if Chris Rock can make a movie about it the least I can do is write a half assed report. Now to begin…

The age-old negro debate, should I wear my hair as it was naturally given or should I perm it with man-made chemicals? In this report I will attempt to answer this question. While this report might seem biased keep in mind that I am only reporting my opinion which just happens to be the truth.



We should all know the history of processed hair at this day and age. If you don’t I’ll give you the cliff notes version. A long time ago, but not s long that people don’t remember, a certain type of folk began enslaving another type of folk. It sucked and then one day the enslaved people were granted freedom, but not really. It was a false type of freedom because while “legally” their bodies were no longer in bondage their minds were. The mentality had been twisted to think that everything European was good and everything African (natural to themselves) was bad. Hence the creation of “good hair” and “bad hair.” The newly “freed” people tried everything they could to mimic their captures, even going so far as to put harmful chemicals in their hair to burn it straight instead of its natural coiled state. The moral of the story, the act of perming ones hair began as an act of self hate and the trend continues today.



I won’t bother looking up scientific facts and figures for writing something that common sense tells us is true. Perming your hair leads to bald spots, stunted hair growth, scalp irritation, and the mental fact that you kinda hate yourself. But don’t worry about that, you do you.



Natural hair does indeed take many hours of maintenance in comparison to processed hair.  On the flip side, processed hair is more restricting in the fact that you can’t do simple things like getting your hair wet, allowing people to touch it or sweat. Yup, you heard the correctly people who get perms are not allowed to sweat.

In the next issue we will talk about soul food and why eating it is harmful to the soul. How so you ask? Ever heard of diabetes? Yup…

Summary: Hobo With A Shotgun

Delivering justice one shell at a time

Jesus Christ, where should I begin? I knew full on what to expect from this film when entering the theater but “Hobo With a Shotgun” takes the entire grind house genre and injects it with a straight shot of adrenaline. The movie begins and I immediately  like and respect Hobo because he is featured with a harmonica, walking cane, and knap sack; the three crucial items that any self respecting hobo would never be caught without.

Hopping off the train, Hobo enters the land of Fuck Town, a place where every corner is soiled with crime. Not 5 minutes into his new neighborhood can Hobo get without witnessing a public decapitation administered by the Princes of Fuck Town -Slick and Ivan – at the request of their father, Drake.Not all is rotten in Fuck Town however. Passing by a local pawn shop, Hobo eyes a classic, cherry red, lawn mower and is bombarded by the sweet feeling of nostalgia; Of a simpler time when a hobo could walk down the street and not have to worry about getting his cart run over by a crazed, psychopath’s car.  Hobo decides then and there that he wants that lawn mower and hits the streets to earn beg for some money.

Unfortunatley for Hobo, things don’t go quite as planned as he is subject to ridicule, apathy, and revulsion from the upstanding citizens of Fuck Town. Hobo endures this and all the other immoralities of the town but he is pushed too far when the sanctityof a hooker’s vagina is put into peril by none other than the Prince of Fuck Town, Slick.

Using his wits and a sock full of nickels, Hobo saves the girl but pays for his heroism at the end of a blade. Left for dead in a dumpster, Hobo manages to pick himself back up, thanks to the Hooker. The two share a heart felt moment and after a touching story about bears, become BFFs. Finally after enduring all sorts of humiliation and almost dying, Hobo saves up enough money to buy his precious lawn mower. Hobo enters the shop but before he can purchase his prize, 3 armed men enter the shop, take the shop owners’ family hostage and demand money. The shop owner gives the thugs everything he has but they tell him it’s not enough, “more money or the baby dies.”

Hobo glances above to the left and sees it. A good ol fashioned pump-action shotgun. Instantly he has to make a choice, the thing he loves most in the world, the lawn mower or the shotgun which represents responsibility. Hobo chooses the righteous arm of responsibility and paints the pawn shop red with the robber’s blood. It’s not over yet however. Responsibility takes a hold of Hobo’s mind like an addiction and he goes on a murderous montage sweeping the streets clean of Fuck Town’s finest.

The press soon gets word of the Hobo with a shotgun and rally behind the crusty faced hero. The King of Fuck Town however doesn’t like the threat Hobo is becoming and puts out a bounty for his head. Soon the entire town goes crazy and kill any bum they see in hopes of cashing in on the reward. Hobo manages to stay a step ahead while still delivering his vigilante style of justice but slips up when the Hooker’s life is once again put into peril. In the aftermath of a gruesome battle with the Princes of Fuck Town, Slick is left dead and minus one penis while Hooker is not far behind with a neck gash.

Hobo gets the Hooker to a hospital where her life is spared but falls victim to Drake’s two most powerful men, the Knights of the Plague. Hobo is put into a pine box and awaits execution. Meanwhile, the Hooker decides enough is enough and goes through a MacGuyver-like montage of building the ultimate deus ex machia made of Hobo’s shotgun and his cherry red lawn mower. Who knew the Hooker was such a proficient welder? Knowing she can’t fight the battle alone, the Hooker makes one of the most impassioned speeches I’ve ever heard to the crowd of rowdy miscreants.

“Some people got beds to sleep on, where they can crawl under the covers and have a good night’s rest. But other people, they don’t got beds at all. Instead they gotta find an alleyway, or a park bench where some fucker’s not gonna stab them. But just because they don’t got beds doesn’t mean they’re homeless. ‘Cause guess what? They’ve got the biggest home of any of us. It’s called the streets! And right now, we’re all standing in their home, so maybe we should show them some goddamn respect. If this is their home, they’ve got a right to keep it clean, don’t they? And sometimes on the streets, a broom just ain’t gonna fucking cut it. That’s when you gotta get a shotgun!”

Back at the execution ring, Hobo is about to get his head ripped off when Hooker makes the dramatic save. Too bad Hobo couldn’t return the favor as Drake man handles her arm and pushes her fingers into the blades of her very own lawn mower killing machine. Hooker isn’t down for the count yet and savagely stabs Drake in the heart with the bone where her forearm used to be. With the Hooker doing all the dirty work, Hobo manages to free himself and aims his gun at Drake. Drake’s dirty cops show up behind Hobo and threaten to kill him if he kills Drake.

Then, in a moment of redemption, the citizens of Fuck Town all grab their personal firearms and aim them at the police. A viscous stalemate is held until Hobo brings the walls crumbling down with a shot to Drake. The police in turn kill Hobo while the citizens open fire. Hobo falls to the ground and dies beside his shotgun. The movie ends here but I for one am waiting fro the sequel “One Armed Hooker With A Shotgun.”

Series of the Summer: Whisker Wars

Every now and then an event so masculine passes your way and the testosterone levels in your body shoot up, making your mouth shout

Work it baby

it’s deadliest war cry. Today I stumbled upon an event like this.

The Whisker Wars. An entire series on the IFC documenting one of the most deadliest sports known to man, beard growing. Enchanted by this marvel of an idea, I decided to do some book learnin’ to get a better understanding of the culture behind this phenomena.

A steak in one hand and my mouse in the other, I scrolled through the hallowed pages of Wikipedia learning all I could about the famous beards men throughout time. From Erik the Red to Brad Pitt, I found that bearded men have always been a part of our culture.  It’s only been in recent times however that they have been persecuted in favor of smooth faces such as myself. For the first time in my life I am ashamed because genetically I will never be able to grow a beard in such a fashion as the fine men on this program.

Whisker Wars premieres Friday, August 5th at 11:00pm EST on the International Film Channel. I don’t like to play favorites but I have my eyes set on Jack Passion. His mastery of the wind is the notch that will take him over the edge and help him defeat Bryan Nelson in the tournament.

I give Whisker Wars my highest honor, the Coyote Man-Paw-Chest (+ Nipple) of Approval

Today’s post made possible by the free wifi at Krystal’s house. Krystal’s house…always there when I fuck up.

Series of the Summer: “Misfits”

The Brits have done it again!

What do you get when you combine a freak hail/electrical storm with 5 unruly adolescents? Super powers of course.Produced way back in 2009 but recently brought to American screens this year via Hulu, Misfits can simply be log lined as  Heroes done right. And by that I mean the writing is clever and CONSISTENT.

Be warned, the sex scenes are more graphic then us American’s are used to so make sure you can shield Lil Jimmy’s eyes when appropriate. There’s not a lot of them, just a healthy amount done incredibly well.

The music is also outstanding as the opening theme “Echoes” by The Rapture will instantly pull you in and have it’s way with your brain’s auditory cortex. I’m currently in love with the track “You’ve Got the Love” by Florence and the Machine from episode 1 when Kelly and her boyfriend…err, I’m saying too much. Just get outta here and check it out for yourselves before I spoil it for you

My new summer crush, Antonia Thomas

She's so cute!

Misfits can be found on Hulu which currently has Seasons 1 and 2. Season 3 is in production so make sure you get all caught up before it premieres or you’ll be stuck at the water cooler looking like a Simon.

I give Misfits the Coyote Paw of Approval.

This post made possible by the free wifi from Starbucks. Starbucks…because giving you free wifi is our pleasure.

“The Smurfs” Movie Trailer Review

The trailer opens up and we’re taken to a view of the night time sky where reportedly some UFO phenomena has been seen over Central Park.

This ain't ya Daddy's Smurffin Smurf flick.

I immediately lose all interest in the trailer and go off on a romp with my imagination on what would happen if the Smurfs landed in Central Park instead of flying over it. In my adaptation, the Smurfs land in Central Park and immediately have to fight off a wild and blood thirsty flock of pigeons. Sleepy Smurf doesn’t make it. Narcolepsy 1 Smurfs 0.

Enraged by the death of his brother, Grumpy Smurf arms himself with a pair of toothpicks and valiantly fights the rat birds. An unsanitary mixture of blood and breadcrumbs fly through the air as Grumpy Smurf defeats the last of the pigeons in a heroic Lord of the Rings type montage. Taking refuge in an abandoned tin can, Big Papa Smurf makes a grand speech mourning the death of Sleepy. Death does not discriminate (unless you die via a hate crime) and the Smurfs are no exception to the rule as Doepy Smurf cuts himself alongside the jagged edge of the tin can and succumbs to a deadly illness. Doc Smurf does all he can (not really) but is unable to save him. No one particularly cares however as Doepy Smurf was always a nuisance. Maybe if he hadn’t spent all his life being a jackass, pieing people in the face, someone would have given a damn.

The next day comes and Big Papa Smurf orders a scouting expedition to find food and get an overall sense of the strange land in which they’ve arrived. Sneezy Smurf, Doc Smurf, and Grumpy Smurf arm themselves with various Smurf-size debris and proceed with the mission. Meanwhile, Baby Smurf wanders out of the tin can and Big Papa Smurf goes Smurf-shit. Cursing up a storm and throwing obscene gestures, Big Papa Smurf orders Bashful Smurf to retrieve him. The camera then cuts to Big Papa Smurf as he turns his head slightly to the left, just enough to cover half his face in the shadows. And this happens.

“These fools. If Baby Smurf dies it will be the end of all Smurfen-kind as we know it; Fore he is the prophesied messiah child of Smurfdom legend.”

After Papa Smurf finishes his gloomy monologue, a scantly clad Smurfette holds her panties on the edge of her fore finger. The panties drop to the ground and she gives Papa Smuf “that look.” Papa Smurf palms his Smurf-berries and closes the tin can lid. Camera then cuts to Sneezy, Doc, and Grumpy running for their lives from an army of ants. Cutting a hard left, the Smurfs hide behind a back alley wall while the ants sniff the air for their scent. The ants are ready to give up when Sneezy Smurf sneezes and gives up their location. The ants come marching two by two  as the Smurfs slowly back up towards the ally wall. There is no escape.

Just as all hope seems lost a masked, Smurf-sized man somersaults in front of the three Smurfs and single handedly defeats all the ants with Smurf-Fu. The masked man turns to the Smurfs and takes off his mask. The Smurf’s “gasp.” Behind the mask is Bashful Smurf. Bashful  reveals that he is not the Bashful from this time but of the future.  He then points to the vertical scar over his eye giving proof that the future is no fucking joke.

Bashful tells the Smurfs that he came back to the past to stop a wrong from happening in hopes of making the future a better place. In the future Smurfette gives Big Papa Smurf a Smurfully-transmitted-disease. The disease infects Big Papa Smurf’s mind and he goes on a murderous rampage. Only Bashful Smurf survives the tragedy. Teaching himself the ancient art of Smurf-Fu, Bashful becomes an adept warrior but his power level is still not enough to defeat Big Papa.

Central Park just got Smurfed

Luckily, the ghost of Doc Smurf comes back to the Earth to mentor Bashful every now and then and teaches Bashful how to make a time machine. The camera pans up on Future Bashful’s face as he scowls ferociously. His mouth opens to say these words, “And now that I’m back from the future, I have only one mission…KILL PAPA.”

Doc, Grumpy, and Sneezy, never having met anyone from the fucking future, don’t know whether to trust Future Bashful or not but the guy did just save them from an army of ants single handedly and that’s more than big mouth Papa Smurf ever did so they fall in line. Later that night, after successful Smurf-sex with Smurfette, Big Papa Smurf begins to cry out in pain. Smurfette reaches her hand over to comfort him only to be slapped violently to the steel floor. Grabbing his Smurf-berries, Big Papa Smurf cries out “BITCH! What did you give me?!” Before Smurfette can answer, Big Papa Smurf’s hands wrap around her neck as he violently shakes the life out of her.

Future Bashful and the the crew arrive just in time to see Big Papa Smurf snap Smurfette’s neck. “Nooooooooooo!” Screams Future Bashful as he charges towards Big Papa. The two exchange a series of beautifully choreographed maneuvers before Future Bashful is kicked back to Doc, Grumpy, and Sneezy. “I came back too late. Smurfette has already given Big Papa the virus,” exclaims Future Bashful. “So what do we–ACHOO!– do now,” asks Sneezy. “Easy,” exclaims Grumpy, “Smurf his ass up!”

The guitar riffs for “Eye of the Tiger” begin to play and Future Bashful, Doc, Grumpy, and Sneezy take battle positions opposite Big Papa Smurf. As they all charge, the screen explodes into fire with the Smurfs logo crashing into the screen. And that’s my movie trailer review of “The Smurfs.” Eat it Hollywood.