Skent Dukes: Kid Cudi Ain’t The Only Rapper Coming Out of Cleveland!
Posted by Dewan Gibson | Filed under Arts
In the interest of full disclosure I went to high-school with hip-hop artist Skent Dukes. In fact, shortly after transferring to inner-city John Hay High from the suburban comfort of Cleveland Heights High School, Skent and his 360 degree waves greeted me with a mad-dog look from up to down. For a second I thought we’d have beef, but good hair recognized good hair and we ended up being cool.
Despite the fact that we went to school together I would never-ever, I repeat-never ever, compromise my blogging integrity to promote a friend with lackluster skills. Any artist I post on here is 1)dope 2) hungry and 3) has a certain je ne sais quoi (That’s the old/new term for “swag.” Ever since I saw a dude on Maury call himself Mr. Swaggeriffic I vowed to never use that term again).
So to finally get to the goddamn point check out Skent’s new song “Bank Roll.” I don’t have but two dance moves and I can already tell this is a club banger. In fact, I just listened to it while in the library and ended up doing The Wop in my seat. Fareal, check him out. Here’s the link: http://twiturm.com/nemmr You can find more of his music on Myspace.
Dewan W. Gibson: Author of The Imperfect Enjoyment
Jermaine Jackson: One of My Favorite People
Posted by Dewan Gibson | Filed under Humor
Even though Chris Rock said “Ain’t Jermaine Jackson the shiniest nigga you ever seen–just glistenin’ like Patrick Ewing in the fourth quarter!” the middle Jackson brother has always been one of my favorite people. Just look at the man’s accomplishments: He made hit songs with The Jackson Five and as a solo artist, seduced and impregnated Berry Gordy’s daughter on the sly to get a better deal at Motown, created a brand new flat-top/S-curl hybrid that’s set to be THE HAIR DO for 2010, created eight kids that didn’t turn out to be Hollywood crazies, dogged the hell out of anyone that tried to slander his little brother, changed American perceptions of Islam by converting to the religion and marrying a stellar Afghan chic, and most of all THIS NIGGA DONE WENT OFF AND NAMED HIS YOUNGEST SON JERMAJESTY. Sorry, excuse the African American Vernacular English. I meant to write, Jermaine Jackson bestowed the name “Jermajesty” upon his youngest son.
I’ll admit that I have one of the blackest names in history, “Dewan,” which is Swahili and negro for “The One.” In fact, when I worked at Waldenbooks years ago and answered the phone “This is Dewan at Waldenbooks, can I help you?” famed author/radio host Michael Baisden, who was calling to check in on his book sales the old school way said, “Damn I know you must be black! Dewan! That’s sho’ nuff a black name…How’s my book selling?” I never felt so proud.
But my name pales in comparison to “Jermajesty.” The little boy sounds like African Royalty. Imagine when he grows up and starts approaching women. All he has to say is “I’m Jermajesty bitch, wanna touch my curls?” Or think about when he gets a job. How can someone named Jermajesty be anything else but the CEO? CEO/HNIC Jermajesty Jackson…has a ring to it. I LIKES THAT!
Anyway, I’m jealous yet inspired. So from now on please refer to me as D-MAJESTY JACKSON. Peace and check out the video below from one of Jermaine’s numerous hits.
Dewan W. Gibson: Author of The Imperfect Enjoyment
India Governor: It’s Hard Out Here for a Pimp!
Posted by Dewan Gibson | Filed under Humor, Player Hall of F(sh)ame
Doesn’t the man pictured above look so peaceful and innocent? As if he’d give free spiritual advice that is much more valuable than what you’d find in the self-help (aka bullshit) section of your local bookstore. Just look at his half-smile! The worst thing I can see this man doing is selling old cologne at a seasonal store in a suburban mall. And even that’s not so bad if your funds are low and you want to smell slightly like the cologne you find in Sephora.
But evidently the man pictured, Governor Narain Dutt Tiwari has a another side–a freaky side. Despite the fact that he’s 86 years old Tiwari made a sex tape with three young women. Apparently the Governor requested the services of the three young ladies in exchange for a mining contract for another woman’s company. But he didn’t keep his word and the tape was released. Governor Tiwari, embarrassed but probably still rock hard from the memory of his escapade, then resigned from his post for “health reasons.”
But give the brotha a break. After all, he is from the land of the Kama Sutra. And it’s not his fault that he can perform the sexual miracles of a man a quarter of his age. Damn I’m looking forward to turning 86! Check out the NY Times link for the complete story. There’s also a video below with still clips and cool ass Indian music.
Dewan W. Gibson: Author of The Imperfect Enjoyment
Imperfect Enjoyment Excerpt: “Maury Did It”
Posted by Dewan Gibson | Filed under Humor, Short Stories
Shameless self-promotion part 69. Here’s a snippet from The Imperfect Enjoyment. I planned to post something new today, but I figured I should probably start my Christmas shopping. Peace.
BUT WE’RE IN LOVE. Not a love like Mexican Americans feel for Tapatio or “conscious”African Americans feel for
poetry jams, but a love in which we hope and think of a future, our future. So the shooting threat bounces weakly off my naïve armor. What does some pampered Middle Eastern boy know about gunplay? I assume he does not know much more than me, a sheltered suburbanite who has always stayed at least three streets away from the hood. Amir is a fake. He is as dangerous as your favorite ex-correctional officer turned gangster rapper, or R&B singer who plays up misdemeanorcharges for the false honor of being an ex-convict. Amir is only words. Words that become much stronger when spoken to Haniyah’s mother.
Soon after the threats Haniyah returns to Bahrain for winter vacation. Her mother is disgusted by news of our illicit relationship. “You don’t even know what ghetto he’s from. What kind of family do you think he was raised in?” she says, her mind obviously corrupted by satellite episodes of Cops and The Maury Povich Show. Yes, maybe a few of my extended family members did graduate from the Ohio School of Alcohol and Drug Abuse and maybe some male relatives did a few short bids (really,they just went in to hang with cousins and old neighborhood friends), but we are a hardworking family. More importantly we are a family that is open to others regardless of pigmentation.
It wasn’t a big issue when my divorced grandmother married a younger white man—besides, he loved to eat collard greens. It was never an issue when most of my uncles dated white women, even rural white women who wore 1980s big bangs and resembled Guns N’ Roses groupies. Perhaps they had wild interracial sex, with their taboo prizes yelling “Fuck me like an NBA all-star!” and my uncles grunting “Free Mumia now bitch,” unknowingly healing centuries of racial strife through the powers invested in their loins. No one cared! Bottom line: we are a fair and open family. But this is of no concern to Haniyah’s mother. Her orders are clear: Lose all contact with the infidel or be disowned. If she does not do so immediately, her father will be told. Even in her livid state, Haniyah’s mother is rational enough to keep this secret from him.
During the six weeks of vacation I rarely hear from Haniyah. With her mom, who is retired and able to be constantly
near, supervising her every move, we’re unable to talk over the phone. Every now and then we communicate via instant messenger, but even that is unsteady as she is forced to log off without notice. What I do gather from our erratic conversations is that Haniyah might not be allowed to return to San Diego. There is even talk of her being sent off to study in Scotland.
I am confused, but undeterred. I want this relationship, and I want it even more after being told it cannot be. I couldn’t care less about cultural understanding or the notion of “that’s how we do things.” They are wrong. How can her mother expect her to study in the United States and not develop significant relationships? Does she see Haniyah as some sort of academic machine whose sole purpose is to obtain a degree from an American university? Are the Americans who provide Haniyah this education not good enough to hold her hand and kiss her neck? Who is her mother to decide when we should end? I am realistic enough not to predict a lifetime together based on a few months, but if the relationship shall end, let it run its own course.
Dewan W. Gibson: Author of The Imperfect Enjoyment
Guest Blogger: Courtney “The Real NeNe” Favors Presents “Tick Tock”
Posted by Dewan Gibson | Filed under Arts
When I think of “NeNe” the first person that comes to mind is that chick on The Real Housewives of ATL that looks like she could go 12 rounds with Manny Pacquiao (BTW why’s Manny ducking the drug test?). But I recently met Courtney “The Real Nene” Favors who is a model/actress/comedy promoter/novelist/illegal immigrant border runner who hails from San Diego, courtesy of Silver Springs, Maryland. Check out her short story titled “Tick-Tock.” It’s like foreplay on a computer screen! BTW since there’s always one reader who doesn’t get my sarcasm, Courtney does not actually sneak illegal immigrants across the border, though I am down to do it for the right price. Enjoy!
Dewan W. Gibson: Author of The Imperfect Enjoyment
Incredible chemistry, dinner with friends, complete with wine and great conversation. A room full of laughter instantly became a room full of extreme sexual attraction. TICK TOCK. The clock is ticking away and the time is vanishing into the night. One by one and two by two our friends slowly disappear as they tell us goodnight. I become a little nervous because I have never been alone with you before. It wasn’t until tonight that it became evident that I wanted you. Your eyes tell me the feeling is mutual.
TICK TOCK. It’s getting late and I am contemplating extending you an invite to stay once everyone have gone on their journeys home. I feel my palms sweating and my fingers fidgeting as I debate with myself; I question if this is at all a “good idea”. Just two people remain. The delay of your exit was a sign that you weren’t ready to end your night in my company, so I take a shot of Patron to boost my confidence and ask you to stay. Elated, you accept my invitation.
TICK TOCK. The anticipation is over; the last guest has left my home. Without any words our bodies gravitate towards each other as if there is an incredible magnetic force between us. Our clothes fall to the floor and my body becomes overwhelmed with wet kisses from your tender lips. Your 6’5″ 290 lbs frame presses against my 5’3″ 200 lbs frame and you quickly pick me up towards the ceiling. My legs wrap around your neck as you continuously penetrated me with your tongue.
TICK TOCK. Time flies when you’re having fun. From the living room, to my hallway and finally my master bedroom, four play is an UNDERSTATEMENT for what was taking place in my cozy penthouse apartment. Overlooking the beautifully lit city from my uncovered windows, I can feel an explosion from within. FINALLY, the time we both have been waiting for approaches…..
TICK TOCK. I am about to lose my mind. Rain starts pouring down on my window seal, matching my racing heartbeat, as I anxiously await the penetration of your member. At the corner of my eye I can see you frantically search for a “rubber”. The disappointment in your eyes tell me that you have no protection in your possession, yet, you move slowly towards me and whisper, “Who needs condoms? I wanna feel you….”
TICK TOCK. Time grew still. “Who needs them? WE need them…” I snap out of my erotic hypnosis, grab my clothes and escort you to the door. “It’s time for you to go…”
(We all have found ourselves in a situation where a condom wasn’t present. We all handle the situation differently. An absent condom can be considered a gun in a game of Russian roulette. One shot can kill you. AIDS in REAL…..WRAP IT UP)
Either this is a woman with a strong back or a man with a round ass, but thought it fit the story. (courtesy of 3kix.com)
The New Karate Kid: Lil’ Will Smith aka The Next Bruce Leroy
Posted by Dewan Gibson | Filed under Arts
This is what I like to see, generational wealth in the black community. I’m not talking about passing down rims or whips, but an actual opportunity to establish a lucrative career. Not to say Jaden Smith isn’t talented, but having Hollywood’s #1 leading man with the filthy rich man’s laugh–Will Smith–certainly doesn’t hurt his chances at stardom. Although he’ll probably end up snatching my dream role as Bruce Leroy in The Last Dragon remake, I’m still excited to see how Lil Will’s career turns out. Check out Jaden Smith in the new Karate Kid…but remember, touch his braids and that’s your ass!
Dewan W. Gibson: Author of The Imperfect Enjoyment
Are There Potholes in Copenhagen? LA Mayor Spends 120k of Taxpayer Money for Denmark Trip
Posted by Dewan Gibson | Filed under Social Comm
We all know that 90 percent of work-related conferences are simply a time to get paid to network (which is the corporate term for “party”), pretend to be interested in boring ass panel discussions and most importantly finally nail that colleague you’ve been lusting over for the past year.
But Los Angeles Mayor Antonio Villaraigosa took the whole conference trip thing a bit further. He and seven aides went to Copenhagen, Denmark for the UN Climate Conference at a taxpayer cost of $120,000! I know Los Angeles is a large city, but it’s also struggling ecomically and to send seven aides and a mayor to a conference in Europe is crazy. He’s not a federal politician or even a state-wide office holder. He’s the god damn mayor! He fills potholes! He cuts ribbons when a new Starbucks opens in the hood! He speaks at elementary school graduations! He doesn’t even have to wear a suit to work! I can see logging into a web conference online to discuss a lot of things that will never get done, but to actually fly over there at the taxpayer’s expense…bullshit.
Listen, I love Copenhagen and fully understand the lure of the city. I highly recommend Americans visit, especially American males with an appreciation for women who next to the Dutch have developed the greatest lower bodies of any women in Europe through biking as the primary mode of transportation. Brown women, black women, white women, yellow women—Copenhagen is off the chain.
But back to Mayor V: Like many men he has a weakness for women and did some slick with a newscaster outside of his marriage (sorry, don’t care enough to go into detail but you can find it online), so perhaps he was thinking what I was thinking when it comes to conferences and more importantly Copenhagen. Anyway, I’m sure Mayor V “learned” a lot during his trip. I read that he spoke about making Los Angeles more bike friendly, which is great until you consider the beat up roads and number of drunken starlets that cruise the streets completely inebriated.
I’ll give the Mayor the benefit of the doubt, once he gives me a bit more information. Today I emailed his office with two simple questions: 1) What was accomplished during the mayor’s trip to the UN Climate Conference in Copenhagen? 2) What was the reasoning behind taking seven aides to Copenhagen at the expense of taxpayers?
I’ll be sure to update this post when and if I hear back from the Mayor’s office. Until then let’s have a look at what $120,000 can buy you in Los Angeles:
-The salary of 2.5 teachers for a year
-A six month coke binge that includes the opportunity to sniff it off a fat chick’s ass
-4,800 potholes could have been filled (obviously I’m big on LA potholes)
-A three year contract to pay three reformed gang members to mentor at-risk youth
-Free operations for 30 women to receive the new less invasive liposuction operation that freezes fat cells and creates an hourglass figure that I happen to like
-Salary for one doctor to provide a year of free and low cost services at a community health center
-1,200 Simon Cowell stretch t-shirts to donate to homeless men that want to show off their man boobs.
-The production cost of a dating reality show like “Ray of Love” that could potentially be aired on VH-1 and inspire countless women throughout the nation
-Cost to pay me to run LA for two years as mayor, at which point I’d do crazy shit like mandate that all film premiers be held in Compton until a big budget romantic comedy featuring people of color is finally produced
Well, I hope to hear back from the mayor soon. If not, fuck it…I live in San Diego, the other broke So Cal city.
Dewan W. Gibson: Author of The Imperfect Enjoyment
Breaking News: Santa Flies Over San Diego (Got rejected, but my anus is still like a third eye)
Posted by Dewan Gibson | Filed under Humor, Short Stories
I tried to write an intellectual, giggle under your breath, Seinfield, white-yuppie type of humorous story that’s typically found in publications like McSweeney’s and The New Yorker, but I failed miserably and was quickly rejected by the aforementioned publications. Though on a much smaller scale, it’s kind of like when Madonna tried to rap on whatever CD that was that didn’t go over so well with critics. Of course ass-associated topics will always be my strong point, but the hell with it, why not try something different every now and then. If it sucks, it sucks…and this kind of sucks. Well, it’s not that bad. But maybe next I’ll finally start on that hip-hop CD I want to put out, tentatively titled “My Anus is Like a Third Eye—Bitch.”
I no longer trust my local news and I’m fed up. You see, at around 7am a charming young anchorwoman promised to show breaking news, but there was a catch; I had to wait until the 6pm telecast. So after the morning news ended I passed the time by watching four episodes of Judge Judy—during which I learned that they don’t keep Judy there because she’s beautiful, they keep her there because she’s smart—and I fully agree.
Later I watched Judge Pirro, Judge Joe Brown and Judge Mathis. Then at around 4pm I realized that even though I’m a stay at home father without any children, I should probably find a better way to spend my day.
And that’s when it hit me: If the local news needed to tell something important, why not just tell me at 7am? More so, how could they have possibly known they’d have breaking news at 6pm? After all, shouldn’t breaking news shown at 6pm discuss something that happens at around…say 5:55pm? I understand they can predict the weather with their fancy Doppler equipment, but I’m less confident in their ability to predict water outages and muggings by randomly described assailants (A tall, black male—sorry I meant to say advanced in height, African American and possibly of male gender…but you never know these days).
I didn’t end up leaving the house, but I did dose off and miss the 6pm news. Luckily I woke a few hours later and saw another commercial promising more breaking news at 10pm. But the newscaster in this commercial looked a little different than the cheerful young lady I watched this morning. The evening newscaster had salt and pepper hair and a serious look on his face that gave way to a slight glimpse of a smile as the commercial ended. He appeared to possess the rare ability to convey a message of, I know something you don’t know and it’s really important. Turn the channel at your own peril.
So I lay back on the couch and waited around for a few more hours. Surprisingly there more shows on about law. But these shows were about detectives who wear extremely nice clothes and use fancy techniques to investigate some of the most intelligent lawbreakers around.
They obviously had a lot of investigating to do because they seemed to go all across the country. On one show they were in Miami. I turned the channel and saw similar good looking detectives in New York. Then I turned back again and found that the original detectives had been replaced by even fancier detectives in Los Angeles. It all seemed like a waste of time. Perhaps if they focused on a single city it wouldn’t take so long to solve those crimes. But I guess they like to leave you waiting and wondering like the morning news.
The 10pm news finally started and it turned out the handsome evening newsman with the slight smile was not as serious as he first appeared. In fact, he stood in front of an electronic map (probably that damn Doppler again) and pointed to Santa Claus’ current location somewhere between the United Arab Emirates and Saudi Arabia. The newsman then said, Santa’s making a quick stop right over here. But based on his flying speed of about 200 miles per hour he and Rudolph will arrive in San Diego just in time for Christmas Eve!
I couldn’t believe my local news had the audacity to broadcast such blatant lies. I figured that I had probably heard the news wrong; we all know Santa wouldn’t dare drop off gifts in Saudi Arabia and risk religious persecution. Then, at 11pm another newscast aired and they repeated the same exact story. Perhaps the law should be involved in this matter.
Dewan W. Gibson: Author of The Imperfect Enjoyment
Redbox Recommendation: Revolutionary Road
Posted by Dewan Gibson | Filed under Arts
If you’re broke like me you probably frequent Redbox, the DVD vending machine that charges only one dollar per day for a movie rental. It’s great for catching up on films you wouldn’t dare pay movie admission for and for the oldies (Coming to America!) that they occasionally stock. What’s best about Redbox is that they stock neighborhood appropriate films. So if you leave in the hood you might have the option of renting Master P’s classic Bout It or any other straight to DVD film that you had no idea existed.
Unfortunately or fortunately, my neighborhood is comprised derelicts and druggies, university students, a brotha who works for UPS and tends to just sit in his truck and chill at around 4pm everyday and old white people who made the mistake of not buying property and are therefore stuck in subpar apartments. As a result I tend to get a good Redbox mix of Spanish language soft porn, numerous Cuba Gooding Jr. movies and of course the big box office films.
I recently rented Revolutionary Road starring Leonardo Dicaprio and Kate Winslet. Well let me be completely honest. I saw this film in the theater and rented it again months ago. I thought I returned, until Redbox deducted $20 from credit card for not bringing it back. I called Redbox and they refunded the $20, as I was sure the film was returned. Not too long ago I found the film in my apartment. I guess I should return it, oh nevermind…
Anyway, what I got from the film was “fear.” Fear of pursuing your dreams, fear of finally coming to the acceptance that you’ll end up average and middle class like most people in the US and fear of boredom with your partner. If you are the person who has not accomplished what you wanted to due to fear (stop being a lil bitch!) this movie will really shake you up. Also, if you are tired of your banal job and know you can do much more, watch Revolutionary Road for the scary inspiration.
I won’t give the entire film away, but Leo and Kate are a young married couple living in 1960′s suburbia. Winslet plays a failed actress turned housewife and mother, while Dicaprio is an unhappy 8am-5pm working man. They make plans to move to France, but fear and a conflict arises. The best scenes are when Leo gets down with some young intern and comes home to see a family that really loves him, when Kate goes crazy, when Kate goes crazy again and bangs this big oaf of a man, and when Kate goes crazy one last time and performs at home surgery.
Speaking of Kate Winslet, damn man she was an on-screen nymphomaniac last year. I saw two of her films and she was setting it out. Guess you do what you have to do for an Oscar.
Dewan W. Gibson: Author of The Imperfect Enjoyment
Alicia Keys: Double Standard?
Posted by Dewan Gibson | Filed under Social Comm
Remember how I mentioned that I rarely do celebrity gossip, as I find it feminine and over-saturated? Well, I guess you’ll soon see me with a lip ring, divo walk and aerated mesh shirt. But seriously, I don’t consider this celebrity gossip as I am DISCUSSING the public’s reaction to certain stars.
OK, finally to the goddamn point: If almost any other female superstar had stolen a married man from up under his wife’s nose she would be crucified in the press. I could care less about the morality of Alicia Key’s and Swizz Beatz’s transgressions (word of the month), but why does she get a pass? How can the same woman who wrote “A Woman’s Worth,” “Girlfriend” and quite a few other uplifting songs for women steal someone another sista’s man, and get off scott free?
Can you imagine if Lil’ Kim had let Swizz Beatzz get a piece of that hairy muff (see above) and stolen him away? I can see the comments now : “We always knew she was a hoe,” “Somebody need to shank that bitch,” “Old nasty dirty ass tramp!”
But Alicia Keys is different. The comments have been more like: “She is so beautiful,” “Oh my God I can’t wait for her new CD,” and “She looks pretty good with Swizz Beatz.” Neeeeegro please!
Did I mention how I don’t give a damn about whatever relationship Alicia and Swizz have? After all, if you’ve read my book/short stories you know I have no room to talk. Shit, if Tiger Woods knew about my dirt he’d say “God damn nigga, u crazy.”
But! Why do some people get a pass while others get lambasted in the press? Who knows. But I will tell you one thing: Ladies be careful. There might be a woman lurking who will pull an Alicia Keys on you. In other words, she’ll uplift to a high point where your head is in the clouds, and then steal your man from right underneath your feet!
NOTE: I did not mention the public’s response to Swizz Beatz because as in numerous other cases he is a benefactor of a male dominated society. Damn, OK. I’m going to watch football and drink beer, gotta get my testosterone back up. Peace.
Dewan W. Gibson: Author of The Imperfect Enjoyment
SYNOPSIS: When college instructor Dewan Gibson leaves the Midwest for California, he expects to find a world of breast implants, beer and beaches. Instead he enters a secret and ill-fated romance with a Middle Eastern undergraduate. In this vivid and humorous memoir, Gibson describes his attempts to overcome his forbidden love affair by jumping into an office fling gone wrong (Tijuana Mornings), traveling across the world to Denmark in hopes of meeting “Ms. Booty Mama” (Arhus Ain’t for Lovers) and musing over the interracial relationships between his African-American uncles and “rural white women that wore 1980′s big bangs and resembled Guns N’ Roses groupies” (Too Much Tupac). Toeing the line between stable adulthood and post-college debauchery, Gibson presents a comically honest look at the frailty of modern relationships. Poignant, witty and at times downright hilarious–The Imperfect Enjoyment is a story of toxic relationships and the search for a second chance at love that enlightens and amuses as very few books do.
Black Men/White Women: Big Time Overstatement
Posted by Dewan Gibson | Filed under Social Comm
A post I read on Nakedwithsockson.com about the end of “black love” got me to thinking about the constant fear and alarmist reactions associated with black male/white female relationships. In fact, black men are with white women far less than other groups who date outside their race–only six percent of black males are married to a non-black woman. Most interracial relationships are among Asian women and white men, as 22 percent of Asian women have a non-Asian wife. Also, 15 percent of Hispanic men are married to someone outside their race. Yet, black men-white women relationships continue to be the most controversial. If you don’t believe me find the nearest black woman and ask her to name five black male celebrities that are married to white women, I bet she’ll rattle off the number in a second. Or just look at the black-flack given to Wesley Snipes (how can you dog Nino Brown!), Taye Diggs (Nas Lil Scrappy called him a coon one of his earlier CDs) and of course Tiger Woods.
In spite of these numbers we don’t hear the Asian of Latino communities talking about the end of intraracial love. There are a few billion people on this earth, if you must find someone of your own race your options are damn near unlimited. Or if you’re a black woman, consider dating outside your race. Only two percent of black women do so, which is far less than the other races. Regardless, black love is not ending and black people will not become extinct.
So from where does this controversy stem? Obviously the media is the main culprit. Since the days of that hateful cinematic “masterpiece” that made black men look like animals preying on white female flesh there has been a fear of black male-white female relationships. The black community then adopted and changed these fears to the present theme of “we’re losing all our black men.” Bottom line, it just ain’t happening. Like Jay-Z said “Men lie, women lie–numbers don’t.” And if the numbers increase who gives a damn.
If you want to read more about interracial relationships check out my tips to surviving an interracial relationship amongst the stares, often troublesome molding of cultures and flat-out hate from “friends” and family. And for the scholars out there you might want to check out a book that I skimmed through by Kellian Craig-Henderson entitled Black Men in Interracial Relationships, I’m sure you can buy it on Amazon.
Damn, that was a short social commentary. Well just one more thing: I don’t capitalize the terms white and black because they are only symbolic of color and not culture, plus its grammatical incorrect to do so (Not that I’m a constant stickler). However, I do capitalize terms such as African-American and Caucasian, which symbolize ethnicity. Peace out and let the Cablasian brother Tiger breathe a little bit.
Dewan W. Gibson: Author of The Imperfect Enjoyment
Nas Pays 51k a Month in Child Support! That’s Some Expensive Milkshake
Posted by Dewan Gibson | Filed under Arts, Humor
Besides an earlier post about Cher’s daughter getting a sex change to look like John Goodman from Roseanne that became my most viewed post ever, I don’t really get too involved in celebrity gossip. I understand that there are readers who salivate over that stuff, but I view the genre as over-saturated and in a way, feminine (mind you, this is coming for a guy who wears skinny jeans five days a week and told his girlfriend he’s going to get his “skin done once I stack my paper”).
But the news that broke about Nas having to pay Kelis $51,000 A MONTH in child support for their newborn son struck a nerve. Obviously there’s not a child in this world that costs 51k a month to raise, but let’s think about that number again. Fifty-one thousand dollars!
During my best working YEAR ever I brought home around 50k after taxes. This enabled me to sport a white Miami Vice blazer to the club every weekend (yes I literally mean every weekend), buy a poor man’s Porsche aka a Chrysler Crossfire, take an assortment of whores and classy women out on the town (sorry I meant to say sexually liberated females–damn double standard), spend money on stupid shit like a classic Prince album cover, give a $10 tip for a post-massage happy ending in Tijuana, take a trip to Denmark to see a whooty I met online, eat at fancy restaurants with short menus and gay waiters, actually buy candy at the movie theater, purchase the softest Charmin toilet tissue that makes you look forward to wiping your ass and FINALLY buy supposed “hot stocks” and lose all my money during last year’s market crash.
I understand that Kelis is saying her ability to work is compromised since she has to raise a child “alone.” But shit, she’s a singer. I don’t know…maybe write a song about that little negro who’s earning you 51k a month. I know women that are raising TWO bebe kids (remember that movie lol-shout to Robin Harris) with little to no help and are still able to hold down a job and make a little money to drink away their sorrows in shady bars on the weekends.
Well, whatever. I guess it’s none of my business anyway, but what would you do with 51k a month? Damn…I hope Tiger’s wife is paying attention.
BTW that’s a picture of Lil’ Scrappy above, aka Nas’ twin. You can find the real Nas in the “Hate Me Now” video. Escobar season has returned!
Dewan W. Gibson: Author of The Imperfect Enjoyment
Community Coeds
Posted by Dewan Gibson | Filed under Humor, Short Stories
I wrote this a year ago as I was reflecting on my summer in community college. I was actually a bored and lonely graduate student at the time, so I decided to attempt to learn conversational French in 10 weeks at the local junior college. But of course I ended up checking out some associate degree ass. BTW this story is not really a story and nothing really happens, but it is somewhat funny. How’s that for getting you interested in reading? Blah-blah-blah. Well, here you are:
Community college is the best bargain around, especially during the summer semester. For less than fifty bucks per course you have the opportunity to gawk at lotion-glazed coeds and learn from an instructor who has a life outside of academia. Well, let me go into a bit more detail about the coeds. They are tanned, sweaty and you can actually see their ass cheeks smile—do you know that semi-circle crease located where a woman’s thigh morphs into her ass? This work of God is revealed at least once every class period, usually by a shameless student wearing single striped short-shorts popularized years ago by Chrissy on Three’s Company…fucking unbelievable.
But to be honest I am not necessarily taking classes for the girls or the lectures. I’m here taking French II because I don’t have shit else to do. I’m broke and unemployed.
I have a college education and I’m a few months away from an advanced degree, yet I cannot find work. I send resumes daily and even follow-up with a phone call in my white voice, but still no luck. Things have gotten so bad that I even did three hours of hard labor just to have money for a full meal and a DVD rental. Yep, I had my black ass in the hot sun helping the friend of a former professor load her moving truck…all for forty damn dollars.
Thankfully, a small monthly stipend from my work earlier in the year as a teaching assistant covers rent and utilities. But as far as luxuries like supersized McDonald’s value meals or two-ply tissue, I go without. Never mind extravagances of the rich such as a full tank of gas or a monthly haircut. Good to know afros are coming back in style.
Back to French class. This morning I have my first oral presentation with my study partner Clarissa. I “happened” to sit by her the first day of class and in the weeks since we’ve flirted through elementary French phrases and also talked of skipping class to hang out at the beach. I find her attractive, sexy even, though I cannot say she’s beautiful. But neither am I. We are just fives or sixes in the eyes of most. Both of us scrawny and flat, both of us capable of attracting others—just not the beautiful people we desire, both of us fairly smart—but not particularly gifted in anything, both of us waiting for the other to make a move.
I suppose I’d jump Clarissa’s bones if I did not have a girlfriend whom I believe to be The Girlfriend. I want to remain faithful, even though she and her unadulterated pussy went back home to Bahrain for summer vacation. So my fantasies about Clarissa, including the reoccurring mental porn where she rides me as only the thin girls can, cums first and then finishes me with her smallish mouth—will remain dreams unrealized.
The oral exam starts off well. We proceed through our rehearsed dialogue as the instructor, an elderly Lebanese woman, looks on in approval. Then Clarissa throws me off. She pulls some advanced level French sentence out her ass, leaving me unable to respond coherently. I say only “merci.” Then I say again, “merci.” After thanking her twice I realize she’s not giving me a compliment, but is asking a question. I panic under pressure and say the first sentence that comes to mind, “Clarissa est très chaude,” which in English translates to “Clarissa is very hot.” Actually, it’s not a direct translation from English to French and would probably mean Clarissa is literally hot, as if she is wearing a down jacket in the French Riviera. Besides, I bet the romantic Frenchmen tell women “your beauty is like of that of a sparkling puddle outside the Louvre museum” or some corny shit like that, anything to get that hairy European muff, anything besides the overused “you’re hot” line.
Clarissa loses her calm. She attempts to say something, but the students’ laughter overwhelms her voice. Defeated and afraid of what else I might say, I catch the instructor’s eye to let her know “no more” or for that matter “non plus.” Clarissa and I go to our desks. I say, “That wasn’t so bad, huh?” Red with laughter she says “You spoke well.”
Dewan W. Gibson: Author of The Imperfect Enjoyment
The #1 Christmas Gift for Men: An Appointment at the Bunny Ranch
Posted by Dewan Gibson | Filed under Humor
Your Man Would be Honored to Have Sex with a Woman After Flavor Flav
Do you have a male friend who can’t get a girl’s phone number to save his life, let only a dry-hump or actual sex? Does your boyfriend/husband end up putting your Christmas gift waaayyyyy in the back of the closet so it’s never seen or used again? Does your man need a little practice in bed and you’re tired of dealing with his elementary ass? Or maybe he has a little person fetish that you just can’t satisfy? Well, consider booking him an “appointment” at the Bunny Ranch in Carson City, Nevada. This fully legal and sanctioned brothel allows the love of your life to do everything he’s doing behind your back anyway in a safe and professional environment. And if cash is a little low you can even book an appointment with a credit card. But be warned: no matter what you saw in Nelly’s Tip Drill video, credit card payments CANNOT be processed by sliding the card in the crack of a working woman’s ass. Enjoy…or not.
Dewan W. Gibson: Author of The Imperfect Enjoyment
Global Warming: Coming to a Jheri Curl Near You
Posted by Dewan Gibson | Filed under Humor
The start of the 2009 UN Climate Conference and the “scandal” over 10 year old climate change emails has brought a great deal of focus on global warming this week. Whether or not you’re a firm believer in man-caused climate change or a Palin-esque conspiracy theorist, one fact is undeniable…global warming is a real and dangerous threat to Jheri curls around the world.
Some of you may be saying “Who cares? Jheri curls are played, no one rocks one anymore.” But put it like this–What do Gangsta Rap and the world’s largest fast food corporation McDowell’s (as shown in Eddie Murphy’s award-winning documentary entitled Coming to America) have in common? They were both led by people with Jheri curls (Gangsta Rap: NWA and Eazy E, McDowell’s: Managed by Daryl D). And don’t get it twisted! Hybrid Jheri curls are still around today, but we simply call them S-curls and shined up 360 waves as worn off and on by rap stars P. Diddy and Fabolous.
Maintaining an ideal climate for Jheri curls is important because history has shown that once the Jheri curls start popping, burning and melting the glaciers soon follow. A little known fact is that in prehistoric times an abundance of Jheri curls were around. In fact, dinosaurs actually had Jheri curls. Damn I forgot lol. The ice age killed the dinosaurs not global warming. Well, so much for that joke. Shit! Well, it was funny when I first thought of it. Damn! Forget it…damn I had my friend photoshop a Jheri curl on a dinosaur and everything. Well here’s the pic. BTW check out Al Gore’s interview with Salon Magazine where he discusses “Climate-gate,” Sarah Palin and more: http://www.slate.com/toolbar.aspx?action=print&id=2237789
Dewan W. Gibson: Author of The Imperfect Enjoyment
Your Penis Was Inside Me: Guest Blog by Mama Mia
Posted by Dewan Gibson | Filed under Humor
She is tall, yet graceful. She is down-to-earth, but uses words like “duplicative.” She is a professional career woman, yet she has time to make cock jokes! Check out my newest guest blogger, Mama Mia. Warning: If your schlong is lacking in circumference (as mine is if I don’t have a pre-intercourse viewing of assparade.com) you might feel a bit insecure after reading this post. Too bad! Here she is:
You’re probably wondering why an unknown non-writer gets space on an astute published author’s public forum. Most likely it’s because (1) no one better offered to do it and (2) I’m verbose and opinionated, obvious precursors for edgy content. I usually write my blogs the old-fashioned way—it’s called journaling. Initially, I felt blogging was a self-indulgent way to rant about inane topics. My sentiments are duplicative toward facebook updates like, So-and-So is: GETTING A BURRITO. (Do your web-friends really care?) Now that I have the guest-spot title I recognize blogging as a cathartic way to air grievances about the socially retarded and out people for their stupidity. Case in point, the girl at my gym with whom I had the following conversation:
Idiot girl: Are you a C.P.A?
Me: No, why?
Idiot girl: Because my husband works with a Mia he says is really annoying and I’m wondering if it’s you.
I walked away thinking, “I should totally blog about this.”
Another source of endless blog-worthy material is a decade-long professional dating career with titillating highlights that read like a resume.
EXPERIENCE
The Stranger (Dates: April – June) Danville, CA
Any time we see each other in public he refuses to acknowledge my presence. Ya, dude, you know me. I’m pretty sure your penis was inside of me a week ago. This type of frustrating behavior makes me feel like waving across the bar at the girl he’s now with to forewarn her about the long and skinny to come. It’s the grossest kind of penis, but even without the heads-up, she’ll probably be fine as long as she gets really drunk first.
Tuesday/Thursday Guy (Dates: Bi-weekly July – Aug) San Francisco, CA
For some reason this donkey only wants to see each other on days of week that begin with “T”. I don’t know–could he be playing with “M/W and Weekend Barbies”?
Lt. Douche (Dates: Pre-deployment month of Sept.) Pacific Beach (or Oceanside), CA
Even the delicious boyish Top-Gun looks don’t make up for the drinking problem of a marine. At least this man in uniform was consistent in his routine. He stood me up on three separate occasions. Fortunately, I was able to wear the same black dress every time.
Asperger’s Syndrome (Dates: 20 min.) San Diego, CA
Who spends an entire coffee date talking about their hang-gliding hobby? Wake me up when your story is over, please. The zenith was the date’s conclusion when he swooped in for a kiss at 10 a.m. and did I mention we were drinking coffee!? This after absolutely no indication any affection would be reciprocated. I showed more interest in getting the last bit of foam from the cup of my sugar-free vanilla latte than in him. It was a desperate stab that landed awkwardly on my ear/cheek/hair and never should have been initiated with an open-mouth.
Manila Man (Dates: One evening in Nov.) Los Angeles, CA
Remember how nicely everything fit into a manila folder, which is why your teacher always asked you to put your school work into one? This guy is the complete manila package, with absolutely no variation in coloring. I mean, everything was monochromatic including his hair, eyes and skin. The bizarre similarity to a stalk of wheat was so distracting I blame this blind-date set-up for no longer being able to enjoy Cream of Wheat.
Carol Burnett said, “Humor is tragedy plus time,” but it’s also the ability to recognize hilarious content. If nothing else, at least I have a war chest of sexual encounters of the oddest kind to showcase at cocktail parties. I was almost one-upped by a friend who once went out with a guy who brought his own booze spiked bottle of orange juice to the restaurant where they met. Something has to be wrong with these people. I refuse to believe I’m the one in need of counseling. It simply takes too long to bring them up to speed. Personally, I’d rather pay a psychic who has the hope of the future than rehash my checkered past. This medium works just as well (and is much more economical) unless, of course, you think my observations of life are about as interesting as: GETTING BURRITO.
-Mama Mia
Book Review: From the Middle East Courtesy of Ana Naddoush
Posted by Dewan Gibson | Filed under Arts
Talk about shameless self-promotion! Check out the link below and read my first book review from the “Arab World” courtesy of a reviewer living in Jordan. My favorite part of the post is when the blogger writes, “The language is so inappropriate and the view on women at times so demeaning, that I have no idea why I find the book so good.” Well, demeaning is probably too strong of a word, but I get her drift. Here’s the link: http://ananaddoush.wordpress.com/2009/12/08/the-imperfect-enjoyment/
Dewan W. Gibson: Author of The Imperfect Enjoyment
Saturday Night Live & Tiger Woods: Can We Get A Little More Color?
Posted by Dewan Gibson | Filed under Humor
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OK, the skit was kind of funny, but can Saturday Night Live consider hiring a couple more people of color. Their President Obama is an Asian-Venezuelan-German man in black face and now their Tiger Woods has man boobs, simply because Kenan Thompson is the only SNL cast member that has skin anywhere near the color of Tiger’s. It’s damn near 2010 man! Are you telling me that they couldn’t find a slim brotha to play Tiger…or as Tiger would prefer a slim Cablasian man? Considering the black male unemployment percentage is twice that of the national rate I’m sure there had to be a long line of brothas hoping to play Tiger Woods on Saturday Night Live. Shit, you don’t even have to hire him for the whole season, just let a brotha get on one episode! Bring back In Living Color…BTW the Pirelli tire ad below with track gold medalist Carl Lewis has nothing at all to do with this blog post.
Dewan W. Gibson: Author of The Imperfect Enjoyment
50 Cent: Starting Point Guard for the New York Knicks
Posted by Dewan Gibson | Filed under Arts, Humor
During the past couple weeks I’ve been a bit hard on one of my favorite hip-hop artists, 50 Cent, mainly because he tried to charge me $68 for his Power cologne (BTW it’s made from Johnson’s Baby Powderand rubbing alcohol) at his meet and greet. In fact, I was so pissed that if I could rap without stuttering I would have surely made a diss song. But now, since I found out he plays point guard for the NY Knicks I’m even more pissed!
You mean to tell me the man has a record label, a share of Vitamin Water, a clothing line, etc, etc, etc AND he’s making NBA cash! Mind you, NBA money is the type of cash that can allow you to put it in a white’s girl booty against her will in small-town Colorado, get off scott free, buy your wife a six million dollar ring and have enough money to remove internet videos of your embarrassing attempt at rapping with a song featuring Tyra Banks (god dammit…for the slow people I’m talking about Kobe Bryant). Anyway, so 50 Cent with all that entertainment money coming in and a fat NBA contract…still can’t have a meet and greet without mandating that his fans buy a bottle of Power cologne. Fuck that! Man, I’m done with 50 Cent AND the New York Knicks. Maybe if he stopped trying to sell records he could do more on the court and get the Knicks out of fifth place. Go Cavs!
Dewan W. Gibson: Author of The Imperfect Enjoyment
UPDATE 10:26pm: Sorry, I just found out that is not 50 Cent who plays for the New York Knicks. Apparently it is Nate Robinson.
UPDATE 10:31pm: My bad, THAT IS 50 CENT who plays for the New York Knicks. Apparently, “Nate Robinson” is his given name. Duh, obviously they wouldn’t put 50 Cent on his jersey. This ain’t the XFL man!
Roy Jones: Knocked Out…Breaks My Heart!
Posted by Dewan Gibson | Filed under Arts
Man I feel bad about even posting the vid above because Roy Jones Jr. is my second favorite boxer behind Hector Camacho. Actually, Roy would have been my favorite, but he never was able to the grow the glistening curl to hang a tad bit down his forehead like Hector did. Anyway, Roy needs to call it quits after getting his ass whooped in two minutes by some dude I’ve never heard of named Danny Green. Either that or learn how to fight like the guys in video below. That’s how you scrap!
Dewan W. Gibson: Author of The Imperfect Enjoyment
P. Diddy on the Home Shopping Network: Take That, Take That
Posted by Dewan Gibson | Filed under Humor
Damn! Cologne, clothes, music, NO BITCHASSNESS, Just for Me no-lye gentle relaxer, his soul, music from a deceased rapper and now fleece bath robes on the Home Shopping Network. I swear, the man could sell baby powder to Ashy Larry. Check him out below on HSN. “Take that, take that” “We won’t stop, We can’t Stop” How bout your friends, get with my friends and we can be friends” “Get it in!”
Dewan W. Gibson: Author of The Imperfect Enjoyment
Guest Blogger & R. Kelly News: Ken “Dallas Sexy” Gibson
Posted by Dewan Gibson | Filed under Ken "Dallas Sexy" Gibson
Ladies and Gents, Jews & Gentiles: My eldest brother Ken “Dallas Sexy” Gibson joins us today as a guest blogger. Read below for his take on current hip-hop news. BTW this negro sent me his post in Courier nine point robotic font. We can work on that…anyway here he is:
Beanie Sigel thoughts on him Jay-z squashing beef.
“We gotta do it televised now. It’ll be over but our face to face conversation gotta be televised because the public wanna know. They deserve to know. The people wanna know. You gotta understand, there was people across the world that were putting up that dynasty sign, who believed in that Roc La Familia.”
My thoughts:
Ni*** you have lost your mind? What TV program do you suggest yall meet on? Bru really? Come on the dynasty sign, who does it? Maybe at a Jay-z concert or even Kanye, let me break it to you like this, I think people who throw the diamonds up, are not doing it for the Roc. Besides that shit is corny anyway. Bru let it go, Jay-z has money now, he ain’t thinking about you. Sorry Beans you made some change roll with it. I like you music so just find another outlet.
R. Kelly’s upcoming CD
I was sort of looking forward to the release of this CD, I figure he just had a divorce, he is back on the scene, he has a fade got rid of the braids and maybe he misses his wife so he will be singing some real genuine love songs. I was wrong this ni*** using auto-tune, some crazy ass lyrics and the CD is less than a hour. Come on BRU??
“Tonight you are my master
And I will be your slave
Bury myself all in you
As if you were my grave
What you present to me girl
My eyes has never ever seen
Put it all
Close up on me like that
Til it looks
Like a movie screen”
What the hell, I will probably buy it anyway.
Last, I caught wind of this new Chris Brown CD coming out titled Graffiti. What is a parent to do? What if my daughter wants it, should I buy it? Is it okay to buy a CD from a artist that beat the sh** out of his old lady or do I ignore it and just by the CD regardless of what he did? Let me know thumbs up or thumbs down? Should I purchase the CD or not.(I mean the ni*** can sing)and yes people I still buy music. Lol Here is a pic of the Album Cover, what is the deal with the tight pants really?? I can’t stand dudes wearing skinny jeans and bright color sneakers.
Kenny G.
The older brutha of the author
who wrote Imperfect enjoyment.
