Sometimes you just want to let your hair down and have a relaxing day with thong clad women in a mansion. For an emaciated man somewhat resembling a Doberman, Snoop does really well with the ladies. Chuuch.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog 

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Wow, this is an amazingly thorough deashination process. It looks like he was a running a bit low on product, but his efficient technique brought him across the finish line, no Amacehi. I’m hoping he saved some to shine up those red boots. Don’t laugh; your favorite rapper wore those in the ’80s.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

Man, these neckbones and greens is gooder than a bitch. I planned on going to bed early last night, but they just kept calling me. It’s not just the taste, but the challenge of getting all that devil meat off without chipping my pale yellow teeth. It’s about ripping that bone apart with my strong black hands, salty nectar splashing my face and soaking my palms. It’s about licking my fingers for 15 minutes straight, yet having the foresight to save a bit of the residue for facial moisturizer and shoe shine. It’s about the memories…Mom yelling, “Don’t eat all the damn meat out the greens, fool!” and Dad beating me with a wet rag when I did. It’s about the ancestors who made do with whatever remnants of the pig Whitey left them, ate those bones dry and then sharpened the remains to stab that cracka in the neck. Neckbones are love. Neckbones are freedom. Neckbones are me.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

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Man, this guy’s mother-in-law is straight gangster. She put three caps in him and then tried to say he shot at her first. Luckily he recorded the incident on his iPhone. I wonder why Siri didn’t tell him to run and stop screaming like a b*tch?

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

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Two new black television networks will be on the air by December 2012, which makes me think the world really is ending. Revolt, led by P. Diddy, will be “a place where artists and their viewers come together and engage with technology and social media.” In other words, it’s like 24 hours of “106 & Park” with live tweets. Magic Johnson’s network, Aspire, will focus on programming that displays positive images of blacks, so I’m sure will see a lot of made-for-TV movies starring Morris Chestnut, assorted other cast members from “The Best Man” and ZERO asses shaking.

Note: Even though it’s Black History Month, I did not intend for this headline to rhyme. 

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

Don’t do it, Jeremy. Lintimate acts with her could lead to an STD that leaves you Linfertile. Is there a Lin pun for “I’d have to be drunk”? Damn, just thought of one: “I’d have to be Linebriated.” (Via The Life Files)

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

People often ask how I maintain such a thin and sensual figure that’s durable enough to withstand the still numerous beatings I get from my father, usually for correcting him when he calls my son his son, or accidentally licking my lips while making eye contact with him as he says no man should do.

A fair amount of my healthfulness is due to genetics; I’m a descendant of Zamundan nomads who survived off scraps from the Joffer family (of “Coming to America” fame). Part of it is due to diet; I don’t eat out unless I’m in the warm confines of my favorite restaurant, Snatch. But most of all remaining healthy is a muthafuc*in’ lifestyle. Here’s my routine:

Breakfast: This is supposedly the most important meal of the day. But it’s not more important than watching the Maury Povich show without distraction. So I make this meal light and quick–two glasses of water and the meat stuck between my teeth from last night’s meal.

Lunch: I keep this meal colorful, spinach and meat usually. Or collard greens and neck bones provided my girlfriend has made some in an effort to appeal to my blackness. If available, I’ll also have two beers to get me mentally right. A box of Nerds or Mike & Ikes make a great snack.

Second Lunch: The same sh*t I had for lunch reheated and eaten after I’ve taken a smooth, two-flusher dump that leaves a question mark-shaped object in the toilet. Plus lots more water to maintain the swag of my plumbing.

Dinner: A big helping of something green with a fat ass steak, piece of fish, or sausage (no homo, no carbs either). Wine, the good sh*t my girl buys.

Midnight snack: Pork rinds and cheap wine (the bottles I buy), my nig.

2am snack: Water to prevent a hangover, pork rind residue from my fingers.

Exercise: Chin-ups but only on occasion, aimless walks at the open 24 hours Walmart, sex–quick and intense like the preview of a Denzel Washington action flick.

Mental health: I cry to myself, but only on the inside. Lots of Netflix. Marijuana smoking twice a month, as long as it’s free from friends in the “medicinal” industry. A healthy dose of dirty jokes and chats with friends. Hours spent planning to assassinate foes from high school.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

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Talking like Batman can be painful, ask Clint Eastwood. I bet this guy felt like a superhero until he found he couldn’t defeat a sore throat, let alone the pushers in Jane-Finch (You have Google, don’t ask). With that said this is a really cool video. Hopefully in part two someone dresses up as Joker and cuts smiles into people’s faces. Now that’s a Youtube hit.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

I was really glad to see a young black man smile in a picture, until I found out it was mug shot. Even worse, the young brotha’s working with white supremacists to peddle meth. From From The Smoking Gun:

In another instance of harmony in post-racial America, a white Aryan Nations member joined forces with a black gang member to distribute methamphetamine in Missouri, according to federal investigators.

 The partnership between white supremacist Richard Treis, 38, and Robert “Biz” Swinney, 22, was torn asunder by an undercover Drug Enforcement Administration probe that resulted in this month’s indictment of Treis, Swinney, and five codefendants on a variety of drug distribution and conspiracy charges.

 According to investigators, Swinney allegedly marshaled a network of friends, relatives, and fellow gang members in St. Louis to purchase decongestants containing pseudoephedrine from various stores. Swinney then allegedly sold the pseudoephedrine to Treis, who cooked it down into meth.

This would make a good buddy film along the lines of “Beverly Hills Cop” and “Blue Streak,” but on the wrong side of the law with toothless saggy faced meth addicts. Hollywood?

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

Kim Jong Un recently became dictatorial leader of North Korea after his fashion trendsetting father passed away. Now the cherubic young leader is already being compared to the great founder of trollop rap, Lil’ Kim, though I assume he can’t “make a Sprite can disappear in (his) mouth.”

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

Different races come in and out of style. Black people were cool in the ’70s until people got scared of us. We came back in the mid ’80s with Michael Jackson, but then he showed you can be black without physically being black and that ruined our momentum. Now, President Obama has made kind-of-black people cool.

Latinos were cool in the ’90s thanks to J-Lo and the “spicy hot Latin explosion,” which ended a decade later when Mexicans (whom ironically Puerto Ricans don’t really care for) started asking for equal rights for immigrants. Now, Latinos have decided to take sh*t over, which is cool in a black people sort of way.

Sadly, Asians have never really been considered cool in mainstream American culture. There was the Asian lady on Soul Train and Bruce Lee had a good run, but they have yet to fully overcome the “docile, let me do you calculus homework” stereotype. Jeremy Lin is working on that (along with the guy from the Black Eyed Peas and the guy from The Neptunes), but it cannot be fully achieved he beats the sh*t out of an opponent on national TV for fouling him too hard.

As for Arabs and other Middle Easterners…you ever hear someone say, “Man, I can make to go to this Islamic party this weekend! Gonna be off the chain!” Nope. Native Americans? Almost extinct. And white people? Never cool, just dominant.

Now, CNN is looking to popularize Afropolitans, “a new generation of Africans and people of African descent with a very global outlook.” In short, a n*gga with a passport.  The article goes on to say:

“‘An Afropolitan is someone who has roots in Africa, raised by the world, but still has an interest in the continent and is making an impact, is feeding back into the continent and trying to better it,’” according to Nyakudya. She also believes the term can apply to non-Africans. “‘We like to think that it doesn’t matter where you were born, if you find yourself on the continent and you love the continent, that makes you an Afropolitan.’”

So you don’t even have to be black to be an Afropolitan. Now we can all be one cool, happy group!

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

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Foster Friess, the comic book-named money man for Republican presidential candidate Rick Santorum, expressed his view that the government shouldn’t fund free contraception by saying: “Back in my days they used Bayer aspirin for contraceptives. The gals put it between their knees and it wasn’t that costly.”

Not to be an ass about it, but if you force a woman (force is fair term when describing the intentions of the far right) who wants to have sex to hold aspirin between her knees her next logical option would be to have sex doggystyle.

Doggystyle enables deeper thrusts, allowing a man’s sperm better access to the cervix. Plus, the visual of jiggling ass and the smell of badussy increases the likelihood of premature ejaculation. If a man reaches orgasm too quickly he is less likely to pull-out because: 1) You have to get those last few strokes in and pretend like you’re still hard; 2) The time between the “tingly” feeling and explosion is just a millisecond. You won’t catch it so you might as well remain in there and have fun until you can catch your breath.

If the couple having sex were under a Santorum-Friess administration they would have little to no access to birth control, outside of aspirin.  Thus they would be much more likely to have an unplanned pregnancy (that’s OK) or an unwanted pregnancy (that’s not OK). The Santorum-Friess administration would also attempt to criminalize abortion. The result: an increased financial and societal burden for the parents and the United States as a whole, which for the most part outweighs the fun had with “mandatory” doggystyle.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

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Gucci Mane surrounded by all whooty everything, including the legendary Alexis Texas. V-Nasty must have whipped him after they did the album together. No pun intended with “whipped.” They need to let me (and my son) get on the O.J. Simpson remix. Taye Diggs too. The eyeglasses made to look like white girl hands are the funniest things since…well, since Gucci Mane. Once you go white you don’t go back. Until her family finds out.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

Joseph Kennedy III, 31-year-old grandson of Robert F Kennedy, is running for a Massachusetts congressional seat. There’s little known about his policies, but he has evil red hair complete with a Superman curl and with only two political parties to choose from that’s often the tiebreaker. He’s a former prosecutor who also spent two years in the Dominican Republic with the Peace Corps, building things and (hopefully) breaking hearts and/or hymens. Ewww, alliteration just led me down a terrible path. Anyway, I’ll support him if he agrees to one day run for president and make Nicki Minaj his Marilyn Monroe. America needs that.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

College internships are important, even if you’re entering the field of whore-dom. SeekingArrangement.com connects sugar daddies with college girls who set that thang out for a monthly fee. The concept of the site is simple. Sugar daddies post their net worth and monthly budget for expenses associated with tricking. Sugar babies include pictures, measurements and financial expectations. The two (or three–if you got it like that) connect and everyone’s happy. Supposedly most of the “sugar babies” use the money for tuition, but that’s what strippers say too and everyone knows community college doesn’t cost but a couple hundred dollars. So how coming you’re still stripping after six years and don’t even have an associate’s degree. Hmmm…

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

This lizard is so cute…I just want to deep fry him and dip him in hot sauce. The Lilliputian lizard is one of four new species found in Madagascar, home of the talking Central Park Zoo animals that were shipped back to Africa in 2005, one of whom had a voice just like Chris Rock.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

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Obama Girl used her Hawaiian Tropic-certified rack and marginal vocal talent to blow up during the ’08 election. But things have since changed: The reality of governing has made Obama less popular (though still swagged out) and the guys who made timeless songs like “Party Like A Rock Star” are nowhere to be found. However, she’s back with  ”Glease” featuring Obama impersonator Alpha Cat, who actually does a better Drake. Men loved Obama Girl’s earlier videos, but this one’s for the “mens.”

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog 

The Sports Illustrated Swimsuit issue is a big deal, but not for folks who frequent clubs that have Hennessy specials, five dollar lap dances and loose rules for patrons who go commando while wearing nylon pants. This year’s cover girl, Kate Upton, even made an appearance on Letterman to unveil the new issue. Yet, models with ass you can see from the front and outstanding waist-to-hip ratios would be lucky to get booked on whatever show VH-1 cooks up featuring Ray J speaking in hushed tones. No hate, I just advocate for donks when I have the free time. Click the next page for more suggestions for SI to consider next year.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

You figure if you’re a six-foot-five black guy the size of your third leg is not a worry. Remember, there’s a reason Kobe Bryant’s called the Black Mamba. He earned that nickname in Colorado. But for former University of Memphis baller Robert Sallie, who was until recently playing pro ball in Spain, worries about the size of his johnson led to his dismissal from the team.

Sallie was allegedly taking a penis enlargement supplement that contained testosterone. A drug test revealed this and rather than face a fine from the league for violating the banned substance rule the team cut him. Sallie’s now without a team, but if he has a mean man-print I suppose that’s worth the trade-off. Nevertheless, there’s a lesson to be learned from this debacle: A good line-up of the pubes, with particular attention to exposing the shaft, beats any male enhancement supplement on the market.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

There was a time when I only knew how to fight one way: put my head down and swing wildly while yelling, “You’re not the boss of me!” This strategy commonly referred to as “I don’t know karate, but I know crazy!” proved more embarrassing than successful and as of yesterday is officially retired.

I’ve now added a singular debilitating move to my nearly empty arsenal, the Denzel Washington throat chop. The Black Jesus of acting has done it in at least three movies with a 100 percent success rate. The strategy is simple: Feign inattention while your opponent berates you. Suddenly strike him (or her, if it’s a girl in the club who doesn’t give you her number) in the throat with an open and pointed hand. As the victim bends over unable to breathe and feeling like death is a-coming, taunt him with lines like “Huh? I can’t hear you…so who’s the bitch now?” When he falls down steal his wallet and use his credit cards for gas since you only need to know his zip code if you pay at the pump.

I made a Youtube video with clips of Denzel’s best throat chops, just in case you also want to learn this technique. Unfortunately punk ass NBC Universal (talk about people that need a throat chop…) doesn’t allow their material to be embedded outside of Youtube. So you’ll need to go there to view.

If you decide to implement Denzel’s secret technique you have to be careful. A powerful throat chop can result in a crushed trachea, which could result in you going to prison for a long time. Like Denzel did in Hurricane. I bet he still bears the scars of that unjust experience. Keep your head up, Denzel.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

Man, the ultra-quick editing makes this video the biggest mind-blow since that time I had a dream about having a dream while watching Inception. Plus the lyrics are timely for Valentine’s Day. But if for no other reason watch this video just to see Samuel Jackson say “My black ass.”

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

Adele’s album 21 is entirely about an anonymous ex-boyfriend 10 years her senior, which tells me: 1) He gave her good meat; 2) In between the meat he likely did things that make young, naive women fall in love with older and temporarily interested men, such as listen, give the occasional unexpected compliment, and justify being single in his 30s as “waiting for the right one” when it was quite possibly more of a “still not interested in boning one for the rest of my life” situation; 3) He tired of doing numbers one and two; 4) He was probably a brotha, as we tend to date big white women at rates far higher than other men (Source: Maury show).

Despite his inspirational deeds the bloke in question didn’t even get a shout-out when Adele won six Grammys. Plus he didn’t get any production credit in the album’s liner notes. This in an era when anyone “connected” can get a production credit. (Even Jay-Z and Beyonce’s then week-old daughter got a production credit on her father’s “Glory,” though she only contributed the umbilical cord blood used to write the lyrics on papyrus, in accordance with Illuminati tradition.)

Worse yet, a lot of Adele’s fans assume the ex is a bad guy. As I searched online for the guy’s identity all I found in music forums and articles were terms like “asshole” and “douche.” But unlike the ex-ex boyfriend who inspired her debut album 19 that won two Grammys, the influence of 21 didn’t cheat (or at least didn’t get caught cheating, which is almost as admirable) or ask to be compensated for invigorating her creative process with much-needed pain.

Look, I’m not asking Rihanna to thank Chris Brown for the ghetto love taps that made her more famous than she could ever dream of being, even in a dream during REM sleep brought on by Breezy choking her out. His thank-you came in the form of a much-too-light sentence and subsequent “comeback kid” narrative. But Adele’s ex-boyfriend laid the pipe that produced the Album of the Year, so give the (black) man some credit.

This article also appears on Street Boners…

UPDATE, 2/17/12: According to the New York Post  Adele’s ex, to whom she’s deeply indebted is a man named Slinky Winfield aka Slinky Sunbeam. Told you he was a brotha.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

My book, The Imperfect Enjoyment, is ranked #98 in Amazon Kindle’s Humor/Essays category. Tina Fey’s book, Bossypants, is #1. If more people download mine we can prove that talent, looks, and worldwide name recognition are less important to literary success than shameless self-promotion via a semi-popular blog.

Regardless of the outcome I am proud to say that I am the first black person in world history to have a book rank #98 in Amazon Kindle’s Humor/Essays category on February 11, 2012 at 10:43am (PST). This is undoubtedly a major moment in African American history and just as special as the 1990 founding of No Limit Records by Master P.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

Can you hear me now? This is what life in L.A. will do to you. A distraught, bucket-naked man climbed a 220-foot radio tower and stood there for four hours singing Christian hymns. He agreed to come down after LAPD’s crisis team fulfilled his request for McDonald’s hamburgers (he knew he’d have to sh*t soon). Fortunately the crazed man was unharmed; unfortunately his bare ass did not get the tan we all hoped for.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog 

This is the latest glitter bomb targeting politicians who love freedom and small government, except when it comes to gays and Muslims. The culprit, who may or may not be a fan of Santorum, is facing six months in jail on charges of creating a disturbance and throwing a missile (apparently a missile is any object thrown in the air, not just the type of weapons we sell to Israel who then sells them to China). “Feel the rainbow, bitches.”

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog  

Courtesy of Alison Stevenson: Writer/Comedian From NoDancing.Tumblr.Com

I was twelve years old. My parents made the mistake of letting me have a TV in my room and I couldn’t fall asleep. That’s when I first learned that HBO’s late night programming was a lot different than Nickelodeon’s late night programming. Instead of Nick at Nite I got Taxi Cab Confessions. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, this is the tale of my first masturbatory experience. Full of confusion, self-consciousness, and fear. Looking back, it was a lot like when I had sex for the first time, except no alcohol was involved and I could remember my own name the next morning.

I had a feeling what I was watching was this “sex” thing people whispered around me, but was not absolutely sure. I was sure however that it was making me feel strange things. Weird tingling sensations. Seeing all those breasts, penises, vaginas, mouths, and tongues, collide like that-all at once put me in this mood that I could not describe. “That’s weird,” I thought to myself, “why is my vagina suddenly itchy?” And down my hand went, scratching the best itch I had ever had in my life.

Masturbation is weird. Especially if it’s your first time, and you don’t know what the hell an orgasm even is. I thought my first orgasm was a freakish mistake. Like I had scratched my vagina too hard, and now broke it. A rush of thoughts came to my head. “Has anyone else ever had this happen to them? Should I tell my mom about this so she can take me to the doctor? What if this is some disease that is going to spread all over my body? Well, at least this isn’t a horrible way to go.”

Luckily I didn’t tell my mom about what I did. Instead I lived in fear of my vagina until a few weeks later, when everything started making sense. It was in English class. Behind me sat this annoying kid named David, and to my left was the love of my life, Matt. Matt was my middle school crush. All three years of middle school. I thought he was the coolest guy in the world. He wore the same Misfits shirt every day of the week, and looked like the lead singer of Sum 41. What twelve year old girl in the year 2002 wouldn’t fall in love with him?

So what happened was, David was making fun of me. Now I realize that it’s because he probably had a huge crush on me, but at the time I assumed it was because he was a dumb bully who didn’t like me because I was one of those kids that spent their lunch break hanging out in the school library.

Regardless, David was a shithead. However, in his shitty-headedness something highly embarrassing yet extremely necessary for the overall betterment of my well-being happened. David called me a “dildo”. I remember hearing the word, seeing Matt, the love of my life, chuckle and my face turn bright red. I had no idea what a dildo was, and assumed he meant to call me “dodo”. My retort to him, “Shut up! I’m not a dumb extinct bird!” At this point, David and Matt laughed even harder. My face was redder. David shrieked, “oh my god, you don’t know what a dildo is?” I was so confused. I didn’t know what to say so I just ignored him the rest of class. I couldn’t even look at Matt. They kept trying to get me to admit I had no idea what a dildo was but I just froze, speechless. That’s what I do when faced with fear. I become an awkward statue. No one should ever leave me alone in the woods with a bear.

When I got home that day I asked Jeeves what the hell a dildo was. “David insulted me by calling me a what? What the hell is a sex toy? Masturbation? That’s what I did? That awesome feeling at the end is called an orgasm? Holy shit!” Everything made sense at that moment. I was so relieved to know I wasn’t dying, and that this was a thing people did. A lot of people.

David, believe it or not you helped me discover a fun new hobby, and more importantly I was now stress free and happy about it all. If it wasn’t for your idiotic bullying I probably would have gone on thinking my vagina was permanently damaged and my life, nearly over. And it’s all because you called me a dildo. Thanks David. Oh and also, fuck you David.

Alison Stevenson: Writer/Comedian From NoDancing.Tumblr.Com

The picture above has gone viral and is supposed to demonstrate a mass decline in civilization among young people from the ’50s until today. It’s actually trick photography pitting some of the most elegant gentlemen of yesterday against a couple of the “just don’t give a damn” brothas of today, who are actually successful millionaire entrepreneurs rebelling against the very reaction most people had to the picture–judgment of their character based on a silly fashion trend that they’ll regret a decade or so from now.

Pimps and players and caricatures of both have existed for centuries–they weren’t created via big bang with the advent of hip-hop. Criticism of today’s young people is based on a glorification of yesterday (which is what old people do), as if all our ancestors were involved in the Civil Rights Movement and spent their time praying and doing community service. Some made sexually explicit music (it’s called rock & roll), others were criticized by older generations for their choices of fashion and the supposed degradation of society, some were even junkies and violent criminals, but most were just average everyday people trying to make a better life–the same thing the vast majority of kids are doing today.

It could even be argued that today’s youth are doing much better than the previous generation, who tend to criticize the most. They have more education, the teen abortion and pregnancy rate are both the lowest since 1972 (a year before Roe-vs-Wade), and crime rates (despite the Great Recession) are lower than they’ve been in decades. Not to mention today’s youth have higher IQs and SAT scores than previous generations.

Pictures aside, let’s fight the urge that comes with adulthood to demean young people, even if they want to show off their bony frames and amateur tattoos. Don’t glorify the good ol’ days that weren’t. There’s work to be done (a lot on Soulja Boy), but as a whole they’re not different than you were as a teen, maybe just smarter and more successful.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

Outside of Clint Eastwood’s commercial where’s he voiced-over by Batman, the Super Bowl spots weren’t that entertaining. Thankfully the post-Super Bowl fights and party footage make up for the lost time. In this case a lone Giants fan rubs in the win at a post-game “riot” on the campus of the University of Massachusetts, by “riot” I really mean a rite of passage for white male college students. To the punk in the video who punches like a “Basketball Wives” cast member: Step your haymaker game up, son!

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

Putting up with pervs and pretending not to speak English when asked for an iron that doesn’t spill water is set to pay off handsomely for maids and other employees working in the unique and lucrative New York City hotel industry. The New York Hotel Trades Council A.F.L.-C.I.O. negotiated a deal with the Hotel Association of New York that will raise their average pay from $46,337 today to $59,823 over the next seven years, plus full health benefits with no co-pay. Hotel staff will also get personal panic buttons to use when poon hounds forget that the hotel provides tissues and nudie films for their solitary enjoyment. In addition, hotel owners are increasing their share of the pension contribution from 9 percent to 10.5 percent over the next few years.

Look at their salary and benefits. Now look at yours. Then look at your student loan debt. Smile! Man, I should have majored in bed making.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

R. Kelly must think he’s slick, trying to move his instructional video operation to lawless international waters under the guise of it being a “concert cruise.” I can already see where this is going. Imagine leaving your cabin for an early breakfast and seeing his silly ass walking around wearing the see-through boxers he had on in the “Half On A Baby” video. Di*k just “swanging,” ’cause that’s how he rolls. At first you get pumped, like, “That’s R. Kelly!” But then he gives you that perverted smile with the slight underbite and says, “You hun-gray? We gotta pus*y buffet over in V.I.P.”

Go ahead, try to be romantic and take your girl to the R. Kelly concert cruise. Nine months later watch her give birth to a baby that’s born crying in a perfect octave. Lil’ baby di*k just swanging. And what’s R. Kelly going to say? The same thing he said when he got busted for providing sex education classes in his basement: “N*gga I ain’t hit that! That was brother, Carey. Go ask that n*gga!”

The hilarious King of R&B.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog 

I was on a forum for hilarious-black-people-who-like-to-slack-off-at-work today when the topic, “Is dating an older woman really a problem????? Age difference 15 years” was posted. A number of people responded, most of whom felt it’s perfectly fine and maybe even ideal for a man to date an older woman. I agreed for the most part, stating, “It all depends on snatch elasticity and the grip of her vaginal walls. Other than that it’s fine, especially if you both like classic TV shows like ‘Matlock’ and ‘Dr. Quinn,Medicine Woman.’”

But as I sat in the library thinking (and deciding if I should take a dump in the dingy bathroom, or hold it until I get home) I concluded that although most men “believe” in dating older women it almost never happens. The notion of a “cougar” is a fallacy that the media ran with to generate easy headlines and jokes. It hardly ever exists.

I have single guy friends, 30 and up, that are still looking for barely legals. Whether it’s for concern of womb viability, the difference between a fat ass and a phat ass, or perceived bitterness of veteran women–older women are thought to not have it and are therefore old news. Harsh.

It’s unfair for women and terribly limiting for men. Women tend to reach their sexual peak later than men, though by that time we have a slightly crooked penis and disturbing cock vein, it bodes well for the relationship. Older women usually don’t need a man for sh*t, which is great because it prevents relationships that aren’t working from being drawn out and having O.J. Simpson-esque conclusions. And older women usually know a good man when they see him, and won’t leave you simply because the new guy at work has big hands and powerful features like that damn Idris Elba.

So the next time you see a pretty ol’ thang, look her in the eyes (don’t focus on the crow’s feet) and introduce yourself. And be sure to let her know you’re a fan of “Matlock” and “Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman.” Expand your options, because unless you’re rich or Clooney-handsome, most women aren’t clamoring for an old(er) man either.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

The Onion ran an article on the “Abortionplex,” a large facility that would terminate the unborn and unwanted before they grow up to be featured on WorldStarHipHop.com. Congressman John Fleming, Republican from Louisiana, believed the article to be true and posted it on Facebook to use as anti-Planned Parenthood ammo. He deleted the post after commenters pointed out his lack of common sense. From The Onion editor Joe Randazzo:

“We’re delighted to hear that Rep. Fleming is a regular reader of America’s Finest News Source and doesn’t bother himself with The New York Times, Washington Post, the mediums of television and radio, or any other lesser journalism outlets.”

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

Much of the Western world has beef with Iran over their supposed development of nuclear weapons, which violates the international We Have Them You Can’t Treaty. War rhetoric from American evangelical politicians is heating up; in short, diplomacy is out the door because they’re unhappy with their lives on Earth and want to hurry up and get this rapture thingy started, which requires an intact Jewish state.

However, before the United States commits blood (young soldiers who joined to “see the world”) and treasure (money that could have been used to better this country by giving the ultra-rich more tax breaks), we might want to get a better idea of whom we may fight–Deadly Female Ninjas!

The kunoichi (female ninjas) are skilled in crotch flips, use of poisonous weapons and assassinations. Plus they’re covered up so they blend in well with many of Iran’s women. More than 3,000 women signed up for ninja training, and more are expected considering 34% of young Iranian women are unemployed.

America has Chuck Norris and Bruce LeRoy, but I’m not sure we can out-ninja Iran. So we should consider inviting their windbreaker wearing president–who never said “Israel should be wiped off the map”–to D.C. to settle our problems like adults, by talking. Hopefully sometime soon, before the rapture.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

According to three new studies published in academic journals that very few people will read, Facebook can be harmful to your mental health. Most harmful are others’ status updates, which people use to portray themselves in the best light, even if their lives are full of declined credit cards and anal itching.

Researchers found that if a Facebook user has a lot of friends (one study sighted 354 has the tipping point) he is bombarded with the often positive status updates of others and compares his success to theirs. Obviously, unless you’re an incredibly accomplished instructional video star like Brian Pumper, you won’t have as many positive life events as hundreds of people combined.  From MSNBC:

“‘A small number of friends means a low probability of viewing others showing off,’ Mukesh (the researcher) said. For people with lots of friends, though, the Facebook Newsfeed turns into a parade of good news about other people’s live: promotions, engagements, weddings and new babies. Even if someone knows intellectually that people use Facebook to show off, Mukesh said, all of this information can make them feel worse about their own achievements or lack thereof.”

So much for the supposed good idea of keeping positive people in your life. I’d say it’s worthwhile to add a few people who ain’t sh*t to your friends list.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

If the president of the United States has an affair, that’s not cheating. It’s service to his country. Think of what’s on his plate: half of the country dislikes him from the start, a few crazies even want him dead, he makes decisions that influence the everyday lives of the entire world, and has to bomb a country every now and then to stop us from being bombed (or just so we can continue consuming a disproportionate amount of the world’s resources).  So if a little consensual trim from an intern reduces his stress level and keeps Al-Qaeda out of Cleveland, have your fun Mr. President.

John F. Kennedy agreed with me, as did a host  of other presidents.  Mimi Alford, now 69, reveals details of her affair with President Kennedy has a 19-year-old White House intern. Her book, ”Once Upon a Secret: My Affair with President John F. Kennedy,” details how Alford lost her virginity to the 45-year-old president. Apparently he used the oldest move in the book, a move that works in one-bedroom apartments but would likely have a one hundred percent success rate in the White House: “Let me give you a tour of the place.” Alford’s interview about President Kennedy airs Wednesday on NBC’s “Rock Center with Brian Williams.”

With that said, I have words of advice for my unborn daughter: Don’t date professional athletes or presidents.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

After last night’s Super Bowl Gisele proved that behind every good man is a good woman (or another man with his arms wrapped tightly around his “homeboy’s” waist). She said of the Patriots’ receivers, who dropped at least four catchable passes:

“You have to catch the ball when you’re supposed to catch the ball. My husband cannot f–king throw the ball and catch the ball at the same time. I can’t believe they dropped the ball so many times.”

She has a good point. And it’s refreshing to see supermodels are just like regular women, prone to causing trouble between a man and his friends.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

This flash mob in honor of Don Cornelius looks like a lot of fun, though for some odd reason the suppressed white man voice in my head wants to call it a flash riot. “He racist” (and sounds like Newt Gingrich). Anyway, the best part of the video comes at the 3:04 mark. A white woman does a traditional white girl dance, as is typically done to music by Flo’Rida in clubs that play Top 40. A black women derisively says (yes, I can tell from her voice that she’s black), “I’m tryin’ to figure out what song she’s listening to!” Her girlfriend responds, “Okaayyyy,” as only black women can. The white woman continues on with glee, though she probably thought to herself, “What song? Oh, this is the song I listen to while fu*king Mandingo.” Nothing like music to bring us all together…

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

There is one word to describe both the New England Patriots treatment of Tiquan Underwood and his haircut: horrendous (one more so than the other). The wide receiver was released one day before the Super Bowl and just a few days after getting the team’s logo cut in his hair, which ended up looking more like a mutated sperm with a Pac-Man head than a Patriot. Now he’ll have to find a barber who can change the logo to a sign that reads “Hire Me!”

The move was made to activate a defensive player who the team felt could have more of an impact in Sunday’s game. But don’t fret for Tiquan. He was paid nearly $500,000 this year and will likely be resigned next year. Plus, and maybe I’m assuming this because his name’s Tiquan, he snatched all sorts of Super Bowl memorabilia that can be sold on eBay before clearing out his locker. But most importantly, the brotha is staying strong. He tweeted:

“This Is Nothing But MOTIVATION. I Been Thru A LOT…But There Are people In This World with More Serious Problems So I can’t Hang The Head….Thank You Lord #Blessed. Good Luck To The New England Organization, The Coaches, & All My Teammates… #PatsNation.”

I agree with everything he said, except for the teammates part. You know, technically you can’t really describe them as teammates since you’re not on the…never mind.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

You see the size of that donk? I bet each cheek needs its own crack just to keep her regular. Anyway, I saw a girl dancing in her room like this one time and tried to walk up in the spot; the police were called within minutes. I guess women don’t like it when you let yourself in through the window, especially if you’re wearing a Freddy Krueger mask and naked from the waist down (except for a pair of Timberland hikers). Well, Drake could probably get away with that.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

Last summer a brotha in Texas, Kenneth Robinson, moved into a $300,000 Texas home for $16, the cost to file adverse possession paperwork. The home was a foreclosure owned by a mortgage company that went out of business. Thus the property was considered abandoned. I’d like to explain in more detail, but I don’t have a law degree. If I did it would probably from an unaccredited online university. However, the Dallas Observer noted:

But, Robinson said just by setting up camp in the living room, Texas law gives him exclusive negotiating rights with the original owner. If the owner wants him out, he would have to pay off his massive mortgage debt and the bank would have to file a complicated lawsuit. Robinson believes because of the cost, neither is likely. The law says if he stays in the house, after three years he can ask the court for the title. He told News 8 his goal is to eventually have the title of the home and be named the legal owner of the home.

Keep in mind that $300,000 goes a long way in Texas real estate; it’ll get you a house, plantation, and a couple indentured servants. Of course the neighbors had a fit and weren’t about to exercise “white flight” over a $16 transaction. They tried to get him arrested for breaking and entering; the police couldn’t do a thing. They put media pressure on Robinson, didn’t work. He just chilled in the house with friends and family, despite having no electricity or running water–neither of which are needed to play spades.

Now, Bank of America, the legal owner of the property is evicting Mr. Robinson. But whatever the result of next Monday’s court case he’s still the winner. He has a website and e-book explaining how others can use “adverse possession” to scare the sh*t out of rich people. And he’s looking for another abandoned crib in a ritzy neighborhood.

Hustle smart and hard so you can finally get your 16 acres and a mule.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

Nike will release the “Black History Month” edition of the LeBron 9 next Saturday. The shoe costs $170 and was made for a tenth of that with slave-esque labor. Considering black unemployment is at 16.8% I imagine most of us won’t be buying it. Well, some of us will at the expense of rent and other essentials, but I guess that shows the difference between black people and nig…oops, sorry, that’s not appropriate (in February). S*hit, don’t get mad at me, Chris Rock said that.

If you decide to buy the shoe from Nike Town make sure The Man’s not following you around. They have a history of doing that to young blacks, even super-Negros like NBA player Tyson Chandler. They paid $7.6 million to settle that case, so be sure to contact Brother Al if that happens, whether or not it actually happens.

And lastly, wouldn’t it be really disappointing if a shoe made to honor black people didn’t even make you jump higher?

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

This is a great opportunity that could potentially lead to an appearance on a VH-1 show that involves fighting, yelling while clapping one’s hands and obliterating the image of minority women–while being wildly entertaining (and that’s all that matters).

“We are only accepting women for consideration. Men, even if you have a little sexy ass like Prince, are not being considered. Also, cellulite and stretch marks ARE more than welcome. However, one’s crack should be fairly clean and not too hairy as the final four contestants will be asked to wear a thong.”

Whoever wrote this is an evil genius. I’m sure he’ll post pictures of the “contestants” as they arrive.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

I guess they’re just reenacting the closing scene from Y Tu Mamá También. Magic Johnson and Isiah Thomas used to do this each time they played against each other, till Magic couldn’t stop coughing. Well, Kobe did tell Pau to go hard in the paint. Pau must have thought he said “get hard.” Pausa?

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

Pfizer has issued a recall of more than one million birth control pills that lack enough contraception to prevent a blessing up in yo’ belly. According to a statement issued by the company: “As a result of this packaging error, the daily regimen for these oral contraceptives may be incorrect and could leave women without adequate contraception, and at risk for unintended pregnancy.” Man, I bet Planned Parenthood will make a killing off the resulting unplanned pregnancies (oops).

But if you are looking for creative and fun birth control options outside of Pfizer’s faulty pills just show your partner the above chart next time he wants to “feel the real you.” And remind him that the cost to raise a child from birth to 18 is not calculated to include luxuries like Air Jordans and baby’s first tattoo.

Anyway, I imagine there’s a class action lawsuit (or potential white collar crime) against Pfizer coming soon. Ex: “Hey Pfizer, I took your birth control pills correctly and still got pregnant. I need you to pay me the $226,920 it’ll cost to raise this damn kid. Sorry, I mean raise this precious child.”

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

I was black before Barack (re)made it cool, but now I’m distant from my race. My main black man problem: removing wine stains from my LL Cool J soupcoolers. I live in a suburb a few miles from the U.S.-Mexico border and go weeks without seeing a single black person in my part of town. An area where the small number of racists are too busy hating on the Mexicans to worry about a couple-few black guys in the area, provided that couple-few remains a couple-few.

I live with my lady, who’s black in ass but white overall, and our six-month-old son who has yet to realize the discomfort that comes with “What are you?” The few black friends I have here operate as I do, without the constraints of being black. The phrases I heard in my hometown of Cleveland don’t apply: “Man, real ni66as don’t ____.” Fill in the blank with: go camping, fall in love with white women (smanging is OK),  listen to Radiohead, travel outside a three mile radius of racial comfort, sit right next to their homeboy in the movie theater, drink a beer without grabbing it by the neck, give high fives…

But we’re still very much black, and proud. I cringe when our ignorant 10 percent equates black with “ghetto.” I hate logging on to WorldStarHipHop.com, but rubberneck at our mess when temptation proves too heavy. I watch UFC and hope the brotha knocks the white dude out…sorry. I listen to “Watch The Throne” and see it as a celebration of modern “black excellence.” I want hot sauce on everything I eat, it’s actually crusted on my computer’s keypad as I write.

But I also thought O.J. was guilty, from the start. And my in-group politics mesh more with Bill Cosby’s than Al Sharpton’s.

Still, I can have an opinion on black love without getting the side-eye, even if my version of black love includes a white woman. I can criticize and compliment us and feel my opinion is just as valid as someone who’s really “down.”

Jesse’s struggle was different than Barack’s. Baldwin’s issues might not have meshed with Malcolm’s. Dubois didn’t see eye-to-eye with Booker T Washington. What K’naan went through is probably completely foreign to other black hip-hop artists. And Rerun from “What’s  Happening” probably didn’t understand the trouble Lamar from “Revenge of the Nerds” faced while becoming the greatest dancer of his generation.

But the breadth and depth of the black experience is great. Let’s appreciate the diversity within the black community. Even Herman Cain.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

Man, they should hire this guy as the new American Idol judge. A California man, 50-year-old William Oller Jr., was singing country karaoke when his father grew tired of the racket and told him “I’m going to shut you up,” before going to his pickup truck. (Did you think he’d drive a Prius?)

Oller Jr. locked the 70-year-old out the house, but opened the door when he believed him to be gone. Oller Sr. then barged in the house and a fight ensued. Oller Jr. forgot the golden rule that all children must follow when dealing with their parents: No matter how old you are you can never hit your parents back, your only retaliation is to put them in a state-run nursing home.

Junior was getting the best of him so Oller Sr. shot him multiple times in the arms, shoulder and chest. The police arrived and arrested Oller Sr. for attempted murder. He told the police, “He hit me so I shot the sh*t out of him!”

Oller Jr. is recovering from the assault and could very well become the 50 Cent of karaoke.

UPDATE 2/3/12: The victim was singing Kenny Chesney. Now this all makes sense. 

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

The ad above aims to alert people that a number of nudie websites moved from .com to .xxx last month.  The switch is supposed to prevent people from accidentally landing on explicit instructional video sites, though that’s what makes surfing the internet fun. People who believe everything they see in a Youtube video with eerie music believe this could lead to government control of the internet, as the feds could simply block every site that ends with .xxx. However, there’s no legislation that mandates adult sites use the new suffix, so OnionBooty, 8thStreetLatinas, and the like are here to stay.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

We’ve seen President Obama croon classic Al Green. Now Mitt Romney, who’s all up on Obama’s nuts, tries to do the same at a nightclub for rich white folks over 60. And he sounds like the weak link in a barbershop quartet, the guy they keep in the group because he buys the outfits. But maybe I shouldn’t call him a biter, since President Obama copied his health plan first.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

The shadow dancing in this video reminds me of Flashdance, except Chris Brown isn’t wearing a leotard. But he does have his hair dyed blond so I guess that’s pretty much the same thing. I can see people in the club going crazy over this song, and of course fighting by the time it’s over (if you’re at a joint where the doorman has a metal detecting wand). More so, I can see a somewhat cute white girl mimicking Busta Rhymes’ verses and becoming an instant internet celebrity via Worldstar. Headline: “White Gurl Can Spit!”

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

“I felt a little bit threatened, if you will, in the attitude that he had, because I was there to welcome him.” -Governor Jan Brewer on giving President Obama the type of greeting her administration usually reserves for brown folks who look “reasonably suspicious” of being in the country illegally.

The Obama-Hulk figure is by artist Ron English at Popaganda. No word on if the piece will be mass-marketed, but if this becomes 2012′s version of the Obama t-shirts, hats and leather overalls sold in every inner-city throughout the country he’s in the money.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

The great Furious Styles once said, “I don’t know why you insist on learning things the hard way, but you gon’ learn. Oh yeah, you gon’ learn.” Though he was talking to light skin Tre, he might as well been talking to the hip-hop community about carrying guns in New York.

Cory Gunz, real name Peter Pankey (what the hell?), was arrested this weekend for having a loaded gun in his knapsack. In New York possession of a loaded gun is a felony that carries a mandatory minimum sentence of three and a half years in prison, though the offender can often plea down and do Lil’ Wayne time. Still, it’s hard to make music in prison where your only source of creativity is weed that was boofed in the joint via Big Los’ ass cheeks.

From the New York Daily News: 

Cory Gunz and his dad recently started a campaign called “Gunz Against Guns” where they speak at schools across the Bronx to steer kids away from the deadly weapons, Peter Gunz said.

 ”It’s heartbreaking,” Peter Gunz said. “Now I know how my father felt when I had the exact situation.”

Peter was referring to a gun possession arrest he faced – also when he was 24 years old. “It’s like deja vu all over again and now I got a taste of the same medicine that I gave my dad when he was sitting in the court.”

The Pankey family had an anti-gun program in the schools? Sh*t makes me think my D.A.R.E. officer might have been moving weight, or maybe my sex ed teacher, Mr. Clapp, had gonorrhea.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

Man, that’s crazy! You could buy a new car, or plenty of “TP for Beavis’ bunghole.” How long before some freak comes along and offers to pay double for an anatomically correct Beavis and Butthead doll?

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

Apple just got a lot less hip. The New York Times is reporting harsh conditions, large numbers of underage workers and death by explosion at various Chinese factories that manufacture iPads and other Apple products:

Two people were killed immediately, and over a dozen others hurt. As the injured were rushed into ambulances, one in particular stood out. His features had been smeared by the blast, scrubbed by heat and violence until a mat of red and black had replaced his mouth and nose. NYT; 1/26/12

I’d say this calls for a boycott, except I haven’t heard of an American technology manufacturer that isn’t shipping jobs overseas and getting filthy rich from cheap Chinese labor. Still, you won’t catch me lined up for an Apple product that does nothing different than my $200 netbook (except make me look cool as I work on a screenplay while wearing a fedora at a Starbucks in a gentrified part of town).

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

At this point in my life I’m more interested in exploring big butts from a sociological perspective (as opposed to a culinary). This documentary, courtesy of Vice Magazine, traces the development of a supreme donk from obscurity to national fame in Brazil. What’s most compelling and worthy of further study is: 1) The amount of upkeep this ass takes; 2) The influence that this hellafied boo-tay has on women who are blessed in a similar manner, yet lack the confidence to shake “what ya mama gave ya” and/or “bounce that ass, bounce that ass.” Feel free to add your thoughts in the comments section.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

Liam Neeson, the actor with the Batman voice who will get up in your ass if you kidnap his family, is thinking of becoming a Muslim. After filming in Turkey, Neeson told a British newspaper: “The call to prayer happens five times a day, and for the first week, it drives you crazy, and then it just gets into your spirit, and it’s the most beautiful, beautiful thing… There are 4,000 mosques in the city. Some are just stunning, and it really makes me think about becoming a Muslim.” I’m sure Brian Muhammad (below) and others are happy to hear that. Wait…are those guys selling bean pies at the corner of Crenshaw and Slauson even official?

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

You can do anything you want as long as you can accept being average at it. In elementary school I believed in the fallacy of hard work and spent hours and hours trying to perfect my chess game. The school tournament came around and I lost in the first round in less than two minutes to Fat Terry, who had been taught a secret Hindu chess move from the school genius, Munir. To make matters worse my dad scolded me with, “How the hell you lose to Terry’s fat ass?” Because I was just an average chess player, Dad!

The disappointment continued in middle school. I practiced basketball for hours, even in the snow, and still got cut from the team. Luckily a Jheri-curled teacher, Mr. Hinesmiller, also believed in the fallacy of hard work and added me to the “C Team” with other kids who lacked natural athletic talent. We played our first and only game against Solomon Schechter, a school for Jewish kids whose parents didn’t want them interacting with black children, and lost by two points. Two points that I gave them by shooting the ball in the wrong hoop.

High school was a little better. I made the freshman basketball team and scored a couple points my first season. I practiced eight hours a day the following summer and believed I had a chance to be a star. But my sophomore year I got cut from junior varsity and cried like I’m doing now as I reminisce. The next year I transferred to a school in the hood, after my family moved three blocks away from the hood. I learned to play spades in class and took my first trip to the projects. I also made the varsity basketball team and sat the bench. More importantly, I got a handy (not from a teammate). That was great, but the look in the girl’s eyes made me think I was average in the meat department.

In college I got average grades in the easy major. Same for grad school. I then got a mid-level management job at a clinic, where I did just enough work to get my average pay. I left to pursue a writing career and released a book that based on the sales, was average. I traveled a bit and then got another job, but like any ol’ average brotha I was the last-one-hired-first-one-fired. Now I’m working various hustles to avoid being your average worker bee.

In this I’ve learned there’s one area in which I can exceed average-dome: fatherhood. With a little hard work, luck (i.e. not dying) and if only because my son has no one to compare me to, I can be a great father. He knows I’m the guy who grabs him from the crib at 2:15 a.m. and connects him with Mom’s titty, and the guy who plays with him a few hours later, and the guy whose bony shoulder he rests on at noon. So to him I’m great, and therefore, for the first time in my life, un-average.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

There’s a good chance you’ll hear this at the club about “fifty-eleven” times. When it’s played some helfa will kick off her shoes and dance like a stripper, for free. Stay away from her even if you’re wearing a latex bodysuit. There’s not a good woman in the world who will do that.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

I guess this is the antithesis of the Maury dance, and that’s a good thing. Ain’t nothing like black love, though I wouldn’t understand since I sold out last year. Now I don’t know what channel BET is on and no longer get invited to “Grown & Sexy” parties. Anyway, this guy can flow. “Dilated…cervix/What you doin’?/Servin…babies.” This is as good as the song Jay-Z made for Blue Ivy, but you can’t hear secret Illuminati chants when it’s played backwards.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

A Tennessee medical student lacking common sense was arrested when she tried to check her gun at New York City’s 9/11 Memorial in December.  Now, like Lil’ Wayne, Plaxico “Can’t Get Right” Burress and Ja Rule she’s facing serious time under New York’s strict gun laws. Some of her fellow Tennesseans, who tend to favor states’ rights when they stop “mens from marryin’ mens” but not when it’s otherwise disadvantageous to their political beliefs, are coming to her defense.

Tennessee legislator Frank Niceley introduced a resolution that specifically reminds New Yorkers to ”drive carefully through the great state of Tennessee, paying extra attention to our speed limits.” The veiled threat to target New Yorkers with traffic tickets comes up for vote next week, provided legislators safely return from the Civil War (reenactment) battlefield.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog 

The rule is simple: When drunk, don’t drive. Call a cab, or dial 911 to see if the police can drive you to the after-party. But some folks, like 44-year-old David Lakarnafeaux, never learn. He was arrested for suspected drunken driving three times over the past five days. The final arrest was around 6:30 a.m. Sunday after police were notified of a reckless driver in Imperial Beach, San Diego. Police arrived and learned the driver, Lakarnafeaux, had went into a bar. They ran his info and found he had been arrested on the same charges the previous Tuesday and Thursday. No word on why the bar was open at 6:30 a.m., but I’m willing to bet it’s within walking distance of a 24 hour massage parlor with a backdoor entrance and mandatory $20 tip.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

Video of President Obama singing Al Green went viral today, but it turns out he’s been crooning in public since at least 2007. Let’s hope he’s not singing “It’s So Hard To Say Goodbye” come November. By the way, check out his black-cent before singing Dionne Warwick. Dude said “Earth, Wind and Fi-yah.” White folks, that’s how we talk in safe zones.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

I’ve gone to Wu-Tang Clan shows since ’97 and have yet to see all nine members perform together. Obviously Ol’ Dirty Bastard has somewhat of an excuse, but the others (namely Raekwon and Ghostface) seem to no-show as they please. I’ve learned you’re much better off catching your favorite members during their $15 gigs at musty bars, or just being satisfied with seeing U-God, who never misses a show.

Nonetheless, I went to Wu Tang’s “Rebirth Tour” last night in Anaheim and had a damn good time. RZA, clad in a knockoff Ed Hardy t-shirt, sprayed the crowd (including me) with champagne and nearly fuc*ed up my camera. Method Man crowd-surfed and incited a mosh pit that featured male-to-female groping and a white dude scuffle-fight. GZA looked old as hell, as he should since he’s like 50, but was sharp with his lyrics.

The show, not including the after party at the Hyatt Regency for “females older than 21,” lasted about 90 minutes and featured all the hits that the youngins  in the crowd pretended to know. I highly recommend going, provided you don’t expect to see every group member and get a playa-price ticket from Craigslist. More (HD!) video from the show on the next page.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

Kind of sucks to watch a Down South rap video with exactly zero ass clapping, not even a single cheek (to see for historical research purposes). I guess this is for the fellas that like to jump around empty parking lots with their funny-facial-hair-having homeboys. Superman that bro? (No Amaechi.)

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

I can kind of understand this. It’s frustratingly difficult to poke a straw through a Capri Sun. If I were attempting to do so and someone asked me a stupid question like, “Need some help?” I could see myself shanking two of my peers. And after that you’re pretty much forced to stab the adult so he doesn’t tell. Not saying that’s what happened, but…

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

My grandmother, Jacqueline Gibson, passed away January 1, 2012 at the age of 73. What I’ll miss most is her kindness, spirituality and sense of humor. (One memorable day she taught me to see auras and hold a yoga pose. Midway through the lesson she said, “If you fart, just fan it with your hand so I know it’s coming!” I couldn’t stop laughing, let alone finish the lesson…but my stomach felt better.)

Grandma Jackie, who raised seven kids, also touched many others. In 1987 she founded The Light Center, a Columbus, Ohio based nonprofit organization that provided support services and self-esteem programs for incarcerated women and grandparents raising grandchildren. She received numerous awards for her work with The Light Center, including recognition from dignitaries such as Former Governor George Voinovich, Former Senator Ray Miller and Former Council Member Charleta Tavares. Most importantly, she left a lasting impression and helped produce positive change in some of the most downtrodden and vulnerable members of society.

Even though Grandma Jackie has passed, the need to help incarcerated and recently paroled women and their families continues. According to the U.S. Department of Justice, there are over 200,000 women incarcerated in the United States; most are imprisoned for non-violent offenses. More importantly, over 70 percent of these women have children. Also, more than 60 percent of imprisoned women suffered sexual or physical abuse prior to their incarceration.

The family of Jacqueline Gibson hopes to continue her work through Amethyst Inc. (http://www.amethyst-inc.org), an organization in Central Ohio that has provided addiction and trauma treatment for women for over 25 years, many of whom were recently incarcerated.

We are seeking donations of any dollar amount to fund an award to Amethyst Inc. in Grandma Jackie’s name. The fundraising period runs until February 1, 2012. Funds will be used to help Amethyst Inc. provide housing, counseling and assistance with family reunification to recently incarcerated women. Amethyst’s 2 to 5 year program is proven to prevent 97 percent of its participants from reentering jail or prison.

Please click the button below to give using your credit or debit card. If you are unable to give even a dollar, do us a favor and pass this link to others. Thanks a lot for your care and help. Feel free to contact me with questions.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog
dewangibson@gmail.com

Through God all things are possible, and only He can give you the ability to play football chest naked. But more importantly God is a job creator many times over, as evidenced by Tim Tebow being asked to join the broadcast team for Sunday’s AFC Championship game.

Tebow has yet to accept or decline the offer, but a response is due midweek. Regardless of the outcome it’s a savvy move by CBS producers to increase ratings for an already popular game. But if they really want a memorable and groundbreaking production they should invite  Michael Vick’s evil twin Ron Mexico to tag (along with) a hot sideline reporter.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

Martin Luther King, Jr. Day was first celebrated in 1986, after strong opposition from a swaggerless President Reagan. That same year The Fat (morbidly obese) Boys, New Edition, Baby Hair DeBarge, Whitney Houston and others came together for a song and video tribute to The King of freedom, justice and equality. The underlying message of this video: Whatever fashion trend you’re following now will look silly as hell in 20-something years.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

Outside of being asked to sing a rendition “Fair Eastside High” in the bathroom of your local inner-city high school, or receiving the Jermaine Jackson Award for Shiniest Mutha*ucka Alive there’s no bigger honor than having a strain of marijuana named after you. And at only one-week-old Blue Ivy Carter, daughter of Jay-Z and Beyonce, has done just that. The strain is available at select California pot dispensaries (that are quickly disappearing due to overreach of the federal government). No word on what makes the Blue Ivy strain unique, but I imagine the Carter family will soon step in to cease distribution or patent its breeding path. “I’m not a businessman I’m a business, man.”

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

The police often target the hip-hop community, which forces outstanding citizens like Young Jeezy to “hide the rest of the yams at Auntie’s house. (And then what?)”  But in the case of Wu-Tang Clan it wasn’t just the police on their backs; the FBI compiled a 94 page report their alleged illegal activities–most of it centered on the late Ol’ Dirty Bastard, whose reports are available through the Freedom of Information Act.

The report alleges that Wu-Tang Clan ordered murders with guns bought from Steubenville, Ohio; were connected with the Bloods (real Bloods, not guys wearing skinny red jeans like Lil’ Wayne), had shootouts with the NYPD and were involved in a number of violent crimes in Staten Island, New York. The report also details Ol’ Dirty being robbed and shot in his home by masked gunmen. (I hate when that happens!) Well, I guess they really are Wu-Gambinos and not just kung fu and chess nerds. Maybe I should ask about all of this when I go to their concert next week? Probably not.

“I ain’t shoot nobody in like…since the early 1990s.” -Ghostface Killah, 2009

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

6am to 7am: Baby Nile awakes with a thunderous cry; he’s hungry. I run interference while his Mom gets ready for work, but my bony chest has nothing to offer. I figure he has enough fat reserves to last at least another hour so I say, “Man, I’m about to put you back in this crib and close the door.” Mom appears out of nowhere with a concerned look on her face and takes Nile. Oops.

7am to 8:40am: Nile has a doctor’s appointment at 9am. The hospital’s only two miles away, but my car has a flat (as it has for over a week). In determining if I can sleep until 8am I calculate the walk time in my head: Gold medal sprinter Usain Bolt can run 100 yards in about 9.5 seconds; there are over 3,500 yards in a mile, which means it would take him a little over five minutes to complete the two mile journey. I’m not a world-class sprinter, plus I’ll be walk-running with a stroller. But I am black so I figure I can make it in 20 minutes if I pretend the police are chasing me. We leave at 8:40am. We get there at 9:15am. Oops.

9:15am to 10:30am: We check in at the hospital. The nurse sees Nile’s transparent olive skin tone and blue eyes and asks if I’m the father. I think, “No…I’m just a nig*a who likes to bring other people’s babies to hospitals.” He gets three shots in his thick thighs and does the “Save me!” cry where he turns bright red and scrunches his face, but holds the audio for 3 to 5 seconds until it can reach a maximum decibel level. He extends his arms to me, apparently I’m forgiven for trying to abandon him in his crib just hours earlier.

10:30am to Noon: We start the uphill trek home. It’s January but easily 70 degrees in the sun. Nile’s knocked out in the stroller and I’m sweating like I just went 12 rounds with Nene Leakes. I can think only think of lunch. We get home, Nile’s stays asleep in his stroller. I heat some leftover pasta and wish a beer would somehow magically appear. It does not. All I have is orange juice and water. And spiced rum. My goal for the month is to have no hangovers, so I’m hesitant to drink the rum. But then it hits me: If I drink more during the day and less during the night I’m less likely to have a morning hangover. I pour the rum into my glass of orange juice. Not bad. The second one is even better.

Noon to 4pm: Nile and I play a game I like to call “Prince.” We take turns seeing who can do the loudest high-pitched scream. After that he does calisthenics (crawling, assisted situps) and chews on the couch. I give him real food, rice cereal with a touch of titty milk. Then we watch “Syriana” on Netflix as I give him a 15 minute back rub so he can moan himself to sleep. He wakes for more food, but is soon back to sleep after being hypnotized while staring at the carpet’s design.

4pm to 7pm: Mom gets home and I start my paid work so Nile can have a home and one  day attend community college. I text a tenant who’s renting a condo in the hood from me. “Happy Monday. Rent was due last week.” I then leave to meet a guy who’s tech company I’m writing for. We were to meet at a Starbucks downtown, but he wants to go elsewhere after arriving early and seeing a guy seated next to the only open outdoor table shoot heroin (real talk, as the cool kids say). So our meeting turns into happy hour. Three beers later we have an agreement for our next project.

7pm to 8pm: On the way home I ask Mom/my woman/domestic partner if we have anything for dinner. She answers, “Baby food and spinach.” I go to the grocery store and buy chicken gizzards, ahi tuna, sprouts and a bottle of wine. (All for less than $20!) Mom says hell no to the gizzards so I prepare our other options. It’s also Nile’s peak time so he’s anxious to show us the new things he’s learned: the fake cough and the 1.5 leg, ass in the air crawl. We watch and try to minimize the number of times he falls on his head. We fail as parents and he ends up with a small shiner above his eye. But he’s alright and the temporary red mark gives his face a little more character.

8pm to Midnight: The Bachelor is on TV so to make it through two hours of the least diverse show on television I finish the bottle of wine while also speeding through my 50 or so favorite websites. Afterwards the family goes to sleep. I planned to stay up until 2am to blog, calculate my meager 2011 book sales and online ad revenue, and sees who’s bitten on my eBay sales; but as usual the wine knocks me out as only it and the act that created Nile can do.

7am: Sh*t, I wake up with a hangover.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

International No Pants Day was held Sunday with over 16,000 people in 27 countries participating. It’s a recently created holiday and as you see in the video celebrated by very few black people, which makes it like Kwanzaa, though I assume its creator doesn’t have a history of torturing women like Ron Karenga. There’s no point to the “holiday” outside of giving people an excuse to show man-print and cameltoe on the subway while shocking others. But the question remains, “Where are the thongs?” (No Sisqo).

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

When people speak of America’s heartland they often mean small Midwestern towns that produce valuable crops like corn and meth. However, America’s cultural heartland is the ghetto, where trends are created long before they reach the comfortable monotony of suburbia. But most Americans want to stay away from the ghetto (until it’s properly gentrified).

Microsoft is giving users of its GPS devices that option with a recently patented “Avoid Ghetto” feature. The technology uses recent crime statistics to plot routes for drivers who want to avoid parts of town where without permission a strange man may wash your car windows at a stop light and then ask for money. Microsoft is refusing to comment on the technology. Apparently they’re following the ghetto’s number one rule: No Snitching.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

I’d never hit a woman, though I suppose if one of the “mob wives” accosted me I’d be less than hesitant to give a throat massage and brief lecture on the importance of maintaining self-control. But a lot of guys, for example NBA player Kyle Lowry, aren’t like me. The Houston Rocket threw a ball at a female referee during a charity basketball game. The ref, who’s heart don’t pump no Kool-Aid, lobbed the ball back at Lowry. Lowry became enraged and told her, “B*tch meet me outside! I will kick your ass!” He then followed her to the referees’ changing area, cocked the ball behind his head, stabilized his three Mandingo legs for optimal force and threw the ball at her as hard as he could.

Like most women beaters Lowry apologized shortly after the assault, though he didn’t say the much too common, “Girl, I just want you to know I always love-ded you.” Lowry’s now facing assault charges and a likely civil suit.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

Cheaters never win, unless you’re a multi-billion dollar corporation like General Electric who manages to pay zero federal income taxes, or in this case the University of Louisiana at Lafayette basketball team. They had six players on the court for the game winning shot against the University of Western Kentucky Hilltoppers, which is usually only allowed if guys are playing girls in a shirt-versus-skins game (you’re on skins if you can’t touch the rim). What’s worse is the Hilltoppers coach, Ken McDonald, was fired after the loss. At least he’ll qualify for unemployment compensation, which is subject to federal and state taxes.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog 

The man pictured above could have played Barry Sanders in a made for TV movie, but instead he’s chosen a life of pop music crime. Ronald Deaver of Cleveland, Ohio stabbed a friend on New Year’s Even because he didn’t know Beyonce had married Jay-Z. Deaver was later arrested and charged with felonious assault. Now he’s likely going to prison where he’ll have ample time to perfect the single ladies dance in front of a captive audience. “Uh oh uh oh uh oh oh oh!”

However, the victim’s partly at fault for this. Had he listened to The Throne album he would have known that Jay-Z was referring to Beyonce when he said “I got that hot b*tch in my home!” (Though Kanye quickly eclipsed him by claiming ownership of numerous hot b*itches with, “You know how many hot b*itches I own?”) Hip-hop can be really romantic…

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog 

There’s a lot of “I” and “me” (and a tad bit of cleavage) in Casey Anthony’s new video but not a peep about Caylee. I’m sure this isn’t the last we’ll hear from Casey, but I imagine her next video will be of the genre that’s best watched alone (or on the back corner computer at the public library if your internet’s down…one hand in your pocket, the other on the mouse).

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Enjoyment 

“Snitches get stitches,” but broke people can’t afford any sort of healthcare treatment (not even a bottle of store brand Robitussin), which is why the guns for cash program was started in Newark, New Jersey. The concept is simple: If your neighbor has an illegal gun tell on him and you’ll receive a four digit PIN. Call back in a month and if your neighbor was arrested you’ll receive another PIN. Take that PIN to a designated bank and get $1,000.

But if you want to be the next Nino Brown use that $1,000 to buy five illegal guns. Sell those five guns at a slight markup and then tell on all your buyers. Repeat that process 10 times and you have over $50,000, more than enough to pay for stitches and many other healthcare treatments. You can even buy a life insurance policy for yourself.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

Big Snoop Dogg co-hosted “The Price Is Right” yesterday with Drew Carey (who’s still funny despite no longer being fat). Snoop’s appearance raised over $72,000 for his inner-city football league. I’m sure we can all agree that one thing the inner-city needs is more athletes…Anyway, if Snoop’s pimp hand is still strong I imagine he took 90 percent of the contestants’ winnings. Chuuch.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog 

I’m all for gender equality, especially in sports, which is one of the reasons I pursued a part-time job as assistant volleyball coach/locker room attendant at Sweet Valley High. I’ve also supported the WNBA (see, I’m pro-lesbian too) and the Lingerie Basketball League.  Now I’m fully in support of Dennis Rodman’s attempt to form a topless basketball team. “The Worm,” as he was nicknamed after performing the johnson-in-the-popcorn-box-while-watching-a-movie-with-your-homeboys trick, is holding tryouts for a topless team that will compete against other teams formed at strip clubs. Making the team takes a lot of natural talent; you need to be at least 5-foot-10 and have a bust size comparable to the vertical leap of the NBA’s best dunkers. If you’re interested in trying out and regressing the women’s right movement, tweet The Worm, @dennisrodman.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

Hundreds of priests from different sects (or should we say “sets?”) riot in Jesus’ old stomping grounds of Bethlehem. The fight was over “areas of authority within the church,” which is really just a fancy way of saying turf. Obviously the turf isn’t used to slang rocks, but the priests do use it to sell an inside track to Jesus for just 10 percent of your annual income. If this sort of behavior continues I’ll imagine we’ll see a fight on pay-per-view when it’s time to select another pope.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog 

Heavy D could rap and sweat out a leather jumpsuit like no other. Now he’s in heaven, which I hear is a great place though that hasn’t been confirmed with a Yelp review. Heavy D’s much too early passing made me think, “What happened to his crew, The Boyz?” Like Prince’s band in “Purple Rain,” including the dude who wore the medical scrubs, they sort of disappeared.

Turns out one of The Boyz, Trouble T Roy (left), died at 22 from a two story fall from an arena exit ramp. He was the inspiration for Pete Rock & CL Smooth’s “They Reminisce Over You (T.R.O.Y.).” G-Whiz (Middle), left the industry and lives a quiet life in the Bronx. Eddie F (right), is still involved in hip-hop as the owner of Untouchables Entertainment, and writes and produces for Chris Brown and Anthony Hamilton, among others.

UPDATE: Heavy D died of a pulmonary embolism and deep leg vein thrombosis, likely brought on by remaining seated on a long flight. If you’re big (or any of the associated euphemisms including “thick,” or if your a woman named Candy) and on a long flight it’s important to diddy bop or pimp walk down the aisles. Not only do you prevent swagger defeating blood clots but you also get to show off your new outfit (especially if you’re flying to Miami and wearing all white everything).

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog 

Man, you have to be a crazy bastard to try to shoot your wife because she’s spending too much time on Facebook. Any sane man knows it makes more sense to sneak up behind her, put her in a semi-sensual full-nelson (rendering her incapable of typing) and in a stern voice whisper, “Imagine the amount of Facebook comments you’ll get when you’re reported missing.” I hear that’s what they teach in marriage counseling.

But Harry Hibbs Jr., of Washington, Pennsylvania, went with the nuclear option. He pushed his wife to the ground and tried to shoot her. Luckily for her his gun malfunctioned, which means it was probably purchased at Walmart. Hibbs Jr. has been arrested and charged with assault and reckless endangerment. Hopefully the wife gets help and doesn’t justify getting back with the guy by saying the much too common, “Deep down he has a good heart.” O.J. had a good heart too, and a good knife game.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

Never bite the (ashy) hand that feeds you. With 50 Cent’s G-Unit Young Buck sold over three million albums and was even able to buy a piece of the American dream, a platinum spinning rim to wear around his neck. Now after falling out with G-Unit he’s going through bankruptcy and creditors are attempting to sell his trademarked name, presumably to print on skull caps that will be sold at Marshall’s.  What’s worse is he’s still under contract with G-Unit and 50 won’t let him release an album because he wants to “f*ck up his life.” Hopefully he can get a feature on “Detox” considering he stabbed that man who made Dr. Dre cry at the Vibe Awards.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog 

In the 1980s people would kill for a Starter jacket. Now we push and shove for Air Jordans. Shit, that’s progress. This is capitalism at work. It costs about $20 to make a pair of Nike sneakers; including equipment, labor, shipping and taxes (Nike’s factory workers are often paid less than $150 per month). Retailers pay double the price of production and then markup the price another 100 percent for sale to consumers. Consumers that are lucky enough to get their hands on an in demand sneaker like the Jordan Concords can markup the price another 200 percent if they want to sell. Ethics aside, as is often the case in capitalism, that was actually an unbelievable return on investment for sale made available to people without access to hedge funds. Push and shove away.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

Can you imagine a world without HIV? No more money spent on Magnum slim-fit condoms. No need to keep rapid HIV tests in the bedside drawer. Your t-cell count would match your credit score. South Africa’s president Jacob Zuma wouldn’t have to try to prevent infection by showering after sex. Well, we might see that day in the next half decade.

The U.S. Food and Drug Administration approved human testing of an HIV vaccine created by a University of Western Ontario researcher. If it works it’ll be the most important Canadian creation since Paul Shaffer. The human testing process will last five years and involve 6,000 people. Some of the research participants will receive the vaccine, others will have to rely on prayer or wear a latex body suit.  ”Come on baby, just me put the tip in…” No!

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

The Obama administration ended Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell and replaced it with Let Me Watch “Glee,” Or Get Your Face Scratched, allowing the openly gay and lesbian to serve in the armed forces.  History was made this week when the military’s traditional first kiss off the ship was performed by a lesbian couple, which also benefited straight male soldiers.  The couple chosen to perform the kiss is determined by a buy-in raffle and the lucky couple above bought  50 tickets (my homeboy Rufus always says gays are driven and financially well-off). Just goes to show how much happier everyone is when a woman is allowed to have a good woman beside her, or a man is allowed to a good man behind him with his arms wrapped tightly around his waist. No Amaechi.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog 

Women tend to really want sex when they’re drunk or on Rohypnol. But some take it too far, as is the case with an Ohio woman who beat her husband for not giving in to her sexual demands. After Harold and Vera Baaske returned home from a bar Vera said, “Come down here in the basement and smang this kitty!” Or something like that.  Harold refused so she jumped atop him and began scratching and spitting on him. That’s hot. But not to Harold, who called police and had Vera jailed. I imagine some people would call this an instance of domestic violence; I say it’s gender equality.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog 

Damn, talk about an investment that won’t leave you dry. R. Kelly’s hoping to fund a new project. Unfortunately it’s not another instructional video featuring America’s most talented youth. According to TMZ, R. Kelly’s looking for investors for a film version of the 32 new chapters he’s written for “Trapped in the Closet.” Can you imagine watching this as a part of a double feature with whatever scorned black woman movie Tyler Perry makes next? I call that heaven.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog 

In an earlier post I referred to President Obama as The Black James Bond for his “you better ask somebody” response to criticism of  alleged appeasement of Middle Eastern leaders. But it turns out he’s been smacking haters down since 2008, on both sides of the aisle. From Hillary to McCain here’s a brief compilation of Obama’s baddest smackdowns (with assistance from Prince, Wu-Tang Clan, Snoop and Smokey from “Friday). This is what change looks like, bitches.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

April 2010: Fashion has been on my mind all week, mainly because I’ve been forced to plan an intervention for a friend with an addiction to Ed Hardy. As you might have heard excessive wearing of Ed Hardy is now a felony in most states, along with the wearing of Steve Harvey suits (both in and out of church) and stand alone moustaches, aka “wolf pussy” on one’s lip.

Unfortunately my intervention will be delayed due to breaking news in the fashion industry. North Korea’s dictatorial head of state Kim Jong-Il has officially declared himself a worldwide fashion trendsetter. According to the official North Korean government website “Kim Jong-Il mode which is now spreading expeditiously worldwide is something unprecedented in the world’s history.”

Keep in mind that this is from the same government that does the following:

• Claims Kim Jong-il once hit 11 holes in one while golfing

• Claims Kim Jong-Il does not defecate or urinate like other people

• Executes people for making a long distance phone call

• Planned to solve its hunger problem by breeding giant rabbits

• Tell its citizens that Kim Jong-Il created weather and the world

• Sends short people to neighboring islands so they don’t “taint” the gene pool

UPDATE, 12/18/2011: Kim Jong-il has died. His jumpsuits and stunna shades live on. Dictator Swag.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

Football is an incredibly fascinating sport. A orgy of entertainment where the fun doesn’t start until the big guy bends over and has his balloon knot tickled by a tall stud who wants the ball(s) all the time (No Amaechi). But it turns out the most amazing moment in NFL history occurred during halftime of the Broncos -vs- Patriots game. A monkey rode a dog.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog 

Good deeds never go unpunished. Especially 350 good deeds (performed with the help of Halle Berry’s “make me feel good” scene in Monster’s Ball) that led to the births of at least 14 kids. Trent Arsenault, a computer dude from small town California, was offering free sperm donations from his home until the FDA put an end to his operation. Now he’s left with a fridge full of man-moonshine and disappointed potential clients who want his top notch DNA.

UPDATE, 1/18/12: Mr. Arsenault stated that he is a virgin who “committed 100 percent of my sexual energy for producing sperm for childless couples to have babies. So I don’t have other activity outside of that.”

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog 

Based on the cover alone this is probably the most important piece of American literature since the Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, or at least the most wavy. Though I imagine it’d be even more interesting (or more wavy?) if it was handwritten on prison issued paper. The Wavy Baby is also available on Blu-Ray for those who weren’t fortunate enough to enroll at the Derek Zoolander Center For Kids Who Can’t Read Good. Free Charly Wingate? We’ll see if the court of appeals agrees next year.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

Jamie Hein, a white landlord in Cincinnati, posted a sign at her duplex’s pool that read “Public Swimming Pool, White Only.” Not only was it bad grammar, but the Ohio Civil Rights Commission ruled it to be in violation of the Ohio Civil Rights Act. Hein’s defense was that a black girl in the duplex had chemicals in her hair that would make the pool “cloudy.”

I’ve had friends with Jheri curls, S-Curls and wet sets (Or should I say “have?” I still know a couple people in the post-activation-not-sure-if-I-should-still-be-this-juicy gray area). I’ve also used copious amounts of Luster’s Pink Moisturizer and maybe I touched up my baby hair with Just For Me No Lye Gentle Relaxer during a down point in my life. But I’ve never experienced a hair chemical that could defeat chlorine. Besides, chances are the black girl had no intention of getting her hair wet anyway. Not to mention the number of chemicals white folks use in their hair: gels, sprays…Jersey Shore pomade!

Hein has appealed the ruling and will have her day in court.

UPDATE; JANUARY 12: The Ohio Civil Rights Commission voted 4-0 against reconsidering its ruling that the sign violated the Ohio Civil Rights Act.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog 

The Admiral Theater, a nudie bar in Chicago, is offering free lap dances to patrons who donate toys for needy children. Unfortunately there’s a limit of one lap dance per horny dude, which means you’ll need to go commando and wear linen or nylon pants to make it worthwhile. If you’re smart you’ll request that the DJ play Prince’s “Purple Rain” during your dance since it clocks in at just over seven minutes. Donated toys will be given to a local churches for distribution whose members (I’m guessing) frequent the club’s Sunday brunch. To get an idea of the Admiral Theater’s talent have a look at the video above from some sort of skank-zombie event they held.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog 

This guy reminds me of Walt Kowalski, Clint Eastwood’s character in Gran Turino, and one of the most hilarious racists ever. He should advertise in Atlanta. Assuming T.I. does another stint in the big house he’ll need the help. Maybe if he gets enough business he can hire Casey Anthony as his assistant. Sorry, too soon…too damn soon, still.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog 

There’s a fine line between being thick, black man thick, and obese. Japan’s government is saying that line is at a waist size of 35.5 inches for women, 33.5 inches for men. Companies that employ workers above that size face fines and hours of intense staring from Pat Morita.

The Japanese were until recently a small, healthy people who emphasized Hara Hachi (eating until you’re only 80% full). But all hell broke loose when then they reached a trade agreement with the United States to exchange American fast food for bukkake and Honda cars. Now they, like many Westerners, are slowing killing themselves with unhealthy eating (as opposed to the old days when they would quickly off  themselves with a sword to the belly after being fired from the company they hoped to be employed by for life).

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog  

Watch the big dude get tagged (No Amaechi) with the one-hitter-quitter and say “The hell with this, I’m going to the locker room.” If you’ve ever been to Cincinnati you know fights like these are pretty much commonplace, though they usually end up as cases on “The First 48.”

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

Willard, Newt and Herman (sounds like they’re members of an a cappella group for seniors) accused President Obama of appeasing Iran and their Members Only jacket wearing president who wants to develop a nuclear weapon so his country can be cool like Israel and Pakistan. Obama responded to the suggestion with a Harvard version of “Ni99a please…”

I love it when he has Negro moments like this. We generally keep it in during working hours and if more than 10 miles away from the nearest MLK boulevard, but some sh*t we just don’t play (i.e. A guy named Willard Romney talking mess behind our backs.)

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog 

It’s kind of sad to witness Bishop Eddie’s fall from grace, especially when you see the toll it’s taken on his S-curl. What’s more sad is that his barely legal victims can still smell his cologne. (Maybe he was wearing CK-One?) Even worse off, his wife. Just imagine the embarrassment and guilt she feels for not realizing that Lycra body shirts usually mean “he’s just not that into you,” or any other woman. I can’t believe folks are still going to his church. We are a forgiving people. Unless you cross President Obama. We don’t play that sh*t.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog 

I tell children who display criminal tendencies (like cheating in video games or stealing their parent’s weed) that crime doesn’t pay unless it’s white collar. And in this case it paid handsomely. A Seattle doctor and his wife bilked the welfare system out of over $100,000 with a simple scheme; the wife pretended she was single and low-income to get Section 8 housing assistance and cash welfare to care for her two children. Turns out her landlord was also her husband and both lived in a $1.2 million dollar house (pictured above). She also received additional funds from Social Security, though it’s unclear if she actually had a little arm like the guy from Three Six Mafia.

The plan worked because the wife used her maiden name and the husband used his office’s address as his home. Well, it worked until he slipped up and put their correct address on a passport application, prior to one of the at least six international trips they took in the past eight years. I imagine you won’t see this story go viral like the black lady with 15 kids who wanted a handout.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog 

Patrick Swayze starred in a PBR commercial (obviously) before he was dead. Though a case can be made that Patrick Swayze can never really die because he played Sam Wheat in “Ghost.” Notice how the commercial portrays PBR drinkers as elegant dancers dressed in nice clothes. By nice clothes I don’t mean a flannel shirt complimented with a ridiculous mustache.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

Hip-hop is competitive, but now some MCs are battling over who wears the tightest yoga pants and the most expensive lipstick. And I think Dallas’ XY Movement is the winner, by far. By really-really far. But I guess this “movement” isn’t much different than Dr. Dre wearing makeup and a sequence one piece in his pre-N.W.A. days. Or any ol’ rapper who sags his pants to let his ass hang out (Fleece Johnson gonna’ get you).

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

I tried to give Newt Gingrich the benefit of the doubt on this because his middle name’s LeRoy and I think that’s cool for a white guy. But the idea of firing “unionized” school janitors and replacing them with schoolchildren so they can learn the value of hard work as cute little breadwinners makes no sense; unless you like downward social mobility that turns the working poor (janitors on average earn $26,000 a year) into the unemployed and destitute.

I just can’t buy the idea that most poor people are poor by choice. No one’s ever said to me, “Dewan…man, you gotta try this poverty out. One meal a day, no heat in the winter, children I can’t provide for…shit’s great!” Most poor people work, albeit in a job that pays less than a living wage. So even though schoolchildren would probably do well as janitors, with their tiny arms fitting into the most narrow crevices to remove dirt and grime, the best long-term solution is fund education so they have an opportunity to learn and stimulate the economy so their parents have jobs (good jobs that they don’t fear losing to their kids).

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog 

Walmart is an interesting place to shop, and not just because they hire silent greeters. Their stores are great for people watching, second only to an inner city Greyhound station on a Saturday afternoon. Plus they have an extraordinary amount of ass walking through their aisles at the oddest hours; they’re pretty much a 24 hour nightclub. But they also have a dark side. And I’m not just talking about its sweatshops in rice-cooking countries. Walmart has a secret security force that’s retail’s version of the Mossad.

My brother and I were driving from Cleveland to Columbus, Ohio when we stopped at a Walmart in small town Macedonia to exchange a broken CD player (Fuck yo’ i-Pod). We approached the cashier with the replacement and she looked at us like we were criminals, though we hadn’t even stolen anything…yet. The cashier rudely explained that without a receipt she could not exchange the broken CD player. We pointed out that Walmart’s policy, as described on a sign directly behind her, said exchanges would be given without a receipt. Still, she didn’t budge. So my brother did what any mature adult would do, slam the broken CD player on the counter and walk out with the new one.

The cashier began yelling, “He’s stealing; he’s stealing!” An employee near the store’s exit momentarily tried to block his path, but simply moved out the way as my brother got near. (I guess being big and black is good for more than just having sex with white women in college.) I followed my brother out the store and yelled, “Man, what are you doing!” It was too late.

A plain clothes security guard grabbed my brother in the parking lot and tried to wrestle him to the ground. Another grabbed me, but quickly let my scrawny bones go when he saw his colleague needed a second body. The first guard was nearly riding my brother’s back. The second leaped for his legs and tried to bring him to the ground.

My brother, with the spirit of Kunta Kinte running through his veins, kept trudging his way towards our car. Then one of the security guards did the unthinkable; he squeezed the shit out my brother’s balls.

My big brother yelped in pain. I hadn’t heard him scream like that since my dad whooped his ass for losing a fight in school. I was nearly 10 feet away and felt the pain in MY stomach. Those big balls, which were flashed to me when they first grew hair, were crushed.

I tried to pull one of the guards off my brother, but he was strong and tired and unmovable. Within seconds police cars arrived. A goofy looking cop with a classic redneck haircut, sideburns shaved to the top of his earflaps, threw me against his car and cuffed me. For good measure he whispered, “You try to run, I’ll knock your fuckin’ head off.”

They pulled my brother off the ground and quickly cuffed him. We were taken to the station and interrogated separately. I was let go after the officers determined 1) I was not at fault and 2) My Air Jordan sneakers were not stolen.

My brother spent the weekend in jail where a bigger muthafucka took his grilled cheese, though he did leave his balloon knot intact. I vowed never again to shop at Walmart. I kept my word for awhile, until I needed a new CD player.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

Man, $68 for a Louis Vuitton condom? For that much money I hope it’s reusable. Even if I could afford it (and assuming it comes in slim fit) I still wouldn’t want to ruin my investment by using it. Besides, isn’t it cheaper and more fun to go raw? Just use the money saved for antibiotics and morning after pills? #Moneyteam.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog 

See, I knew there was a message in Harold & Kumar 2, other than the importance of having bottomless parties. A University of Colorado study showed laws legalizing marijuana resulted in a nine percent reduction in traffic deaths. The theory is: 1) Smoking marijuana reduces alcohol use. 2) Weed smokers drive slower and take less risks than other drivers. 3) Marijuana is used more in private, away from bars and restaurants (and often in my friend Will’s garage). No word on the influence of road head on traffic fatalities.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

Unless it involves Prince slapping Apollonia with the Rafael Nadal backhand in “Purple Rain.” Damn, he had the force of Lake Minnetonka behind that smack. Made her look like a drunk ice skater trying to do a 360. I bet Suge Knight did the same thing to Dre and Snoop when they left Death Row. She should have known not to join Morris Day’s band. Or at least known to duck when Prince sticks that bottom lip up and gives the side-eye, like a kid picked last in a game of full-court. Prince don’t play that sh*t. She got beat up by a girl!

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

When I was in school I learned the best way to deal with bullies was to show my bravery, by telling my older brother. If that didn’t work I’d use my girl fight technique: put my head down, swing wildly while yelling “you’re not the boss of me” and hope the teacher soon stopped the fight. But bullying has changed over the years. With the internet harassment is often nonstop, even driving some kids to suicide.

If it were up to me I’d create a “Shoot The Bully, Not Yourself” campaign, though I imagine such an initiative would only be popular in a blood hungry state like Texas. Outside of that I have two other proposed solutions. One, encourage bullied kids to focus on their studies and get revenge years later when they’re successful and the bullies are employed as recently paroled cart guys and gals at Target (browsing the Facebook pages of past foes shows me this is often the case). Two, have your son take bully defense classes so he can put an ass whipping on the kid who calls him gay just cause he likes to jump rope and do hair at recess.

Turns out my second proposal is gaining popularity. MSNBC reports bully defense programs are rapidly growing. The programs teach kids to set verbal boundaries and perform martial arts moves perfected in Brazilian favelas. Check out the article if your child is coming home from school with speed knots on his forehead.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

I don’t know what’s crazier; old ass Michael Jordan schooling this young dude, or old ass Michael Jordan schooling this young dude while wearing FUBU jeans from the clearance rack at T.J. Maxx. The size 52 waist joints that come with a free belt clip for your pager. Jeans so baggy you gotta wrap your braided belt around twice. Still, you like them so much that you try to wear them to church. Just figure you’ll “dress up” by sporting them with your Stacy Adams huarache sandals. Damn, can we get a dress code for NBA owners too?

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog  

Come on, sista. We have to stop getting our news from Media Takeout. Don Cornelius is alive and well, as evidenced by the number of young white women he’s f*cking (and beating).

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog 

Cool song, but for ass-vious reasons the video gets a lot better around the 3:20 mark.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog 

Black things: VH1 shows, not smiling in pictures, and feeling that talking about Obama is like talking about my mama. Not black things: Doing corny sh*t, eating “supper” and long-term financial planning. I’d say mac-and-cheese is somewhere between the two categories, though definitely not a black thing. When the last time you seent a ni*ga in a Kraft commercial?

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

Having barely passed a couple-few HIV tests, I’m definitely aware of how scary and inconvenient the process can be. But now thanks to the Department of Motor Vehicles in Washington D.C. you can get tested while renewing your license. In fact, for taking the test you get a $5 grocery store gift card. (Maybe use it buy condoms? Better yet use it for beer and put the grocery bag to good use.) You also get a second incentive for getting tested–$7 off your license renewal fees. Though I imagine if it comes back positive renewing your license is probably not on your bucket list. Well, at least the DMV workers wouldn’t bug you about being an organ donor.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

If you’re apart from family this Thanksgiving, whether due to distance or fear of bringing your black boyfriend home, check out “Carlos” on Netflix. It’s the biopic on Carlos The Jackal, a Venezuelan terrorist hell-bent on freeing Palestine and promoting cross-cultural harmony with the powers vested in his loins. It has all the components of a great gangster film: excessive violence, a charismatic lead actor, frontal nudity, an engrossing story and cool fashion. Imagine an NC-17 rated Bond film with leftist political leanings. Plus the entire five-part movie lasts over 10 hours, which helps your family get the hint when you say “Maybe we should just talk about Darius after I watch this movie.”

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog 

I’m a young and sensual 32, but going to nightclubs makes me feel old. Waiting in line for hours, dealing with assault charges when it should be considered self-defense since the woman started the fight by telling you “I’m just dancing with my friends,” finding a condom that’s comfortable enough to wear the whole time you’re there–is all a game for the young and foolish. But it’s hard to know when to throw in the towel. Though a receding hairline and constant requests that the DJ play the “Electric Slide” are clues, one can never be sure until you hear it from someone else. So here it is, a whole bunch of reasons why you need stay your geriatric ass home and leave the club alone:

-You have to use the wheelchair ramp to get on the party bus.

-You think a bar tab is something you don’t have to pay each time you leave the club, ’cause that’s how you saw it done on “Cheers.”

-Your pickup lines include words like “reckon” and “yonder.”

-You ask for directions to the colored people’s bathroom.

-You go to the coat check and steal a hanger just in case you need it to perform a back-alley abortion.-After getting rejected by numerous women you recommend to the club owner that they hold a Sadie Hawkins hopscotch.

-You don’t want to drive home drunk, so you make plans to take the Underground Railroad.

-You and your “posse” are kicked out the club for repeatedly harassing the DJ to play “Lionel Richie’s new sh*t” that you saw on Video Soul.

-To appear smart you wear a monocle and discuss the benefits of FDR’s New Deal with uninterested women while describing all that you’re doing to ensure he gets reelected.

(This is a repost from August, but fitting for the weekend. Also, I figure if people watch reruns on TV they’ll also read the occasional repost.)

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

America went in an uproar over a Jackson titty and now Egypt’s going wild over an activist/blogger wearing nothing but panty hose and the Pope’s red shoes. Aliaa Magda Elmahdy posted pictures of herself and a guy playing guitar with his dong out to make a statement against Egypt’s “sexual complexes.” Now the country, both liberals and conservatives, are pissed that she would show more than her eyelids. Hopefully Egypt soon learns that the acceptable way to oppress women is to bombard them with unattainable images of beauty, leaving them with low self-esteem and the willingness to undergo major cosmetic surgery.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

Singer and instructional video creator R. Kelly once said “When a woman’s fed up, ain’t nothin’ you can do about it.” He also said “It’s like Jurassic Park, except I’m your Sexosaurus” (but that’s entirely unrelated to this post). What he meant in the “fed up” lyrics is really exemplified in this exchange between Bill Maher and Elizabeth Hasselback (Young Anne Coulter), except Hasselback is fed up from a joke and not from her man coming home late at night smelling of whore and scorched latex.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog 

I almost joined the Nation of Islam years ago, but they would accept my love of pork and white women. Now there’s a product that will let me enjoy both: Bacon Lube, a bacon flavored massage oil and personal lubricant. A tube retails for about $12, which is a bit costly considering half a pound of salt pork works just as well for a quarter of the price. Hurry up and buy! Only 3,000 of the bottles are being produced.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog 

Love makes you do the silliest things, like get married. Or even worse get married in the middle of a protest where the PO-lice are beating people like Marquez did Pacquiao last weekend. Of course in both instances there’s no justice. And what’s with the bike helmets? Can you imagine real protesters like the Reverend Jesse Jackson wearing a helmet (or for that matter, in his case, a condom)? Hopefully these two lovebirds in the 99 percent don’t become part of the 50 percent of marriages that end in divorce. Hey Babe, how ’bout we honeymoon in my tuberculosis ridden tent?

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

I could really use a personal trainer who calls me a “lame” and tells me he’s “straight out the muthaf**kin’ yard.” Plus I’d love the convenience of doing chin-ups on a walk/don’t walk sign, my nuts gently tapping the foreheads of waiting pedestrians. And how fun would it be to invade a playground and pull children off the jungle gym while yelling, “Not in my house!”

The video above is a 2002 (B.S.J.; before skinny jeans) release from Ruff Ryders Entertainment, home of DMX and those “real ni*gas from Yonkers.” But in today’s age of soaring gym membership costs it’s just as relevant today. Aerial assaults…dominating bars, son! It’s like 24 Hour Fitness without the smell of feet and ass.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

Being the Son of God is a tough, often thankless job. Sure you get to work the door at that ultra exclusive club Heaven & Hell, but you also deal with people who confuse you with a swagerless pagan god by wrongly celebrating your birthday in December. Not to mention the headaches from all the kooky preachers like Bishop Eddie Long who ignore your 11th Commandment, “Thou shall not wear a lycra body shirt in the house of God.”

With all of that drama and the added responsibility of saving heathens, I’m sure Jesus can use a good laugh every now and then. That’s where Landover Baptist Church comes in. It’s a fictional church and satirical website written by a student who was kicked out of Liberty University, where Jesus holds a spot on the board of trustees, in spirit of course. Think of the site as the Dunder Mifflin of the Jesus industry. In addition to Christmas cards and t-shirts they also sell a genital free salvation turkey for Thanksgiving. Can I get a witness?

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog 

Some of the best advice Dad ever gave me was “Never send a cock pic.” But he also said, “If for some reason you must, make sure it’s taken from a good angle and there’s a limited amount of ashyness shown. And be sure to line-up your basement fro so you give a fair portrayal of your package.”

But some people never learn. And they end up on websites like IsAnyOneUp, which posts user-submitted nude pictures. The problem is “user” can mean the jilted ex-boyfriend who still has pictures of you preparing salt pork and black eyed peas while nude, except for a shoe that you leaned the hell out of (like the lady pictured above). Worse (or better) yet, the site also posts your Facebook profile so site viewers can contact you directly. Of course it sounds illegal, but IsAnyOneUp is in compliance with the law because the photos are owned by the users.

Just goes to show that if you give explicit pictures to some guy you’re dating or interested in dating, understand that the overwhelming majority of these pictures will be shared. And while we’ll be somewhat turned on, we’re also likely to laugh at your attempts to make a sexy face. So, unless you want his friends or the world to see you in your good underwear or bucknaked, please send with caution.

Or just say the hell with it and let them titties breathe, publicly.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

I’m all for making an honest buck, or a dishonest one provided it’s white-collar with a large reward-to-risk ratio. So I get why an Oscar nominated actor like Gary Busey is pitching Kias at a Houston car dealership. But I don’t get why anyone would buy off the lot when they could probably meet Gary in the alley behind the dealership for a much better deal. Check out the end of the video when he turns into a red faced monster. He made that same face when Dr. Drew took his smack.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

Heavy D could rap and sweat out a leather jumpsuit like no other. Now he’s in heaven, which I hear is a great place though that hasn’t been confirmed with a Yelp review. Heavy D’s much too early passing made me think, “What happened to his crew, The Boyz?” Like Prince’s band in “Purple Rain,” including the dude who wore the medical scrubs, they sort of disappeared.

Turns out one of The Boyz, Trouble T Roy (left), died at 22 from a two story fall from an arena exit ramp. He was the inspiration for Pete Rock & CL Smooth’s “They Reminisce Over You (T.R.O.Y.).” G-Whiz (Middle), left the industry and lives a quiet life in the Bronx. Eddie F (right), is still involved in hip-hop as the owner of Untouchables Entertainment, and writes and produces for Chris Brown and Anthony Hamilton, among others.

What’s my favorite song from the crew? The “In Living Color” theme! You’ve heard that, but here’s a performance from the show with ‘Pac and Flavor Flav. Rest in peace, Hev (Pac too, but he’s been resting a long time now).

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog 

Being a super tall, genetically-modified looking dude is cool if you’re in the NBA. But once your basketball career is over your freakishly long limbs are of little use outside of fetish porn or the UniverSoul Circus. But 7’5″ former NBA superstar and Chinese spy Yao Ming is taking a different route, he’s enrolled in college in Shanghai. In the video above, which for some reason has those silly drawings I see in the menu at Mandarin Express, you can see him walking his modest ass into class and receiving a round of applause. Apparently he always wanted to pursue higher education, but the Chinese government shipped him off to a sports academy where he learned to shoot hoops and literally beat the sh*t out of visiting American teams. Now he’s back taking history and English. Can’t wait to see him do a keg stand.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

Two gay penguins in the Toronto Zoo, Bad Ass Buddy and Lady Pedro, want to be together and do all the things gay penguins do like strut across the ice with great posture and get their tuxedos tailored so they can really-really “work it, b*tch!” But the Toronto Zoo wants to separate the two because they are endangered African (and therefore down-low) penguins with “top-notch” genes for reproduction. Though they aren’t interested in “fish” the zoo is hoping they will find female mates who are unconcerned about their history with “menz.” This is really a shame considering outside of fight over cage design that led to Lady Pedro getting his face scratched, the two penguins have been great together. If you believe in equal rights for all penguins contact the Toronto Zoo.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

I only believe in beating children that aren’t mine, especially kids that jaywalk slowly across the street and dare you to beep your horn so they can give you the Reginald Denny. But in a conversation with Dr. Drew, who I just learned is not the same person as Anderson Cooper, DMX said I should consider whooping ass in-house. X’s mom used to stop and drop him with a dookie braid of extension cords and if you disregard the crack and numerous jail sentences he turned out great. Now he pulls the strap out on his 10 kids. “X Gon’ Give It To Ya.”

You can watch the full interview this Wednesday. Apparently, when Dr. Drew’s not diagnosing people he’s never met on CNN or exploiting washed-up celebs on VH-1, he has a show called “Lifechangers” on THE network that used to show the “The Game” until they canceled it to appeal to a wider-whiter audience.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

I like my eyes because they’re dark like my soul and Black Jesus wanted them to be that color. Plus they match well with desert boots. But if I wanted blue eyes I could get a surgical procedure done in Los Angeles called Lumineyes. The technique involves using a laser to scorch the melanin from the top layer of the iris. It takes only minutes and weeks later the eyes turn blue, at a cost of $2,500 per eye. (If needed, you can get one eye done and put the other in layaway until tax time.) Though you’re much better off going to prison and getting your eyes tatted, as shown by the scary white people in the video below. It’s generally free, but they do accept cigarettes and ass as barter. But if you ask me, why spend the money (or bunghole)? Everyone knows that if you want to feel better about yourself all you have to do is degrade others. It ain’t rocket science!

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog 

When I saw all these black people in a circle I figured somebody was about to fight (no sellout). I was wrong and possibly jaded from watching too many videos on Worldstar. The clip above is actually a Jookin’ contest, also known as Gangsta Walkin’ or Memphis Buckin’. I vaguely remember Master P talk about this dance years ago, but the only information I retained from him was to be careful around devious women and pay special attention to that “big monkey between they legs.” Anyway, Jookin’ is cool. Hopefully I can learn right after I get the Casper Slide down. What happened to that guy? He was “tight behind that mic!” (-Master P)

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog 

The only things certain in life are death, taxes and the fact that “Law & Order” is always on television. But now you can add something else to that list: Posthumous recordings to ensure an artist’s name and back account live on. Here’s a new track from Amy Winehouse featuring Nas. Sadly, alcohol is one hell of a drug. Drink in moderation and never around college age white men who wear dirty baseball caps and play games like “nuts on your forehead.” Amy’s new-old album comes out at the end of the year.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog 

If you use blow you’re one missed paycheck away from using crack. And even though crack will make you a good dancer like Gator in “Jungle Fever,” it will also have you doing things you never thought possible…with your mouth. Plus, The Man looks down on crack, even if The Man himself does blow.

Prior to the Fair Sentencing Act passed by Congress in 2010 there was a 100-to-1 disparity between minimum sentences for crack and powder cocaine users. Now the disparity is 18-t0-1. The good news is that the sentence change is retroactive, freeing an estimated 12,000 former users and sellers. Though the majority of the people being released missed Halloween, and therefore the opportunity to dress as terribly realistic zombies, they will see the outside in the coming days. Also, there’s a chance this program will increase demand for drugs and stimulate the economy. Hopefully not in my neighborhood.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog 

This year we gave candy to trick-or-treaters and the occasional freeloading parents holding newborn babies. My domestic-partner in-a-not-gay-way wanted to give the chillun’ one piece of candy each. I suggested they take a handful. Why? I don’t want to make them mad. Children today are corrupted by evil forces, namely parents that are too busy posing in the bathroom mirror for mobile phone pics and thus unable to give their little tax credits the guidance they need. So the children end up unruly and perfectly capable of shooting you for any slight, even accidentally stepping on their Air Forces Ones.

In Aiken, Georgia a 10-year-old boy pulled a gun on a 28-year-old woman while trick-or-treating. She joked about taking his candy and he replied, “No, you’re not…bitch.” Well, he didn’t say “bitch” but I’m sure he thought it. The kid had gotten the handgun from his grandfather. Police came to the scene and told the woman not to worry, the clip was not loaded in the gun, though the boy did have the clip in his possession. The child’s only punishment was being turned over to his parents, so I’ll assume he’s white.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

This is the tale of my very worst sexual partner. For his own sake I won’t reveal his name so let’s just call him Shit*y McShitterson. I met Shit*y the same way a lot of us girls meet guys like him; while drunk at a bar.

Shit*y ended up coming back to my place. We do the whole foreplay thing, and holy sh*t he is the worst kisser I have ever had the misfortune of kissing. It was as if he learned how to kiss by practicing on a St Bernard. Just all slobber. For some reason dumbass me did not take this as a huge sign for how horrible him going down on me was going to be. As soon as he put his mouth down there my vagina felt like one of the passengers on the Titanic drowning in an ocean of despair. Now you guys want to hear the best part? Shit*y goes down on me for about two excruciating minutes, then quickly feels my vagina and gets up to get a condom. I ask, “What are you doing?” and he says, “We should f*ck now. You’re really wet.”

I was so pissed off at this point, and in my drunken stupor could not stop laughing. No I’m not fu*king wet you asshole. I’m just covered in your gross saliva and being reminded of the movie Beethoven not getting horny. At that point every bone in my body was telling me I was going to regret it if I had sex with this guy, but when I’m drunk I don’t listen to my bones. I listen to my dumb head that reminds me I haven’t fu*ked since my boyfriend and I broke up.

Well he gets it in there, and immediately the phrase “jack-hammer” comes to mind. He was going so fast that I could hear the sound of his stomach and leg fat loudly banging onto my body. I was thinking that it was a good thing I didn’t have one of those “clap on clap off” lights in my room or else it would have been going on the fritz at that moment—it would have looked like we were fu*king in a rave.

Then the dirty talk happened. He kept going, “Yeah, you like that don’t you?” Seriously, how can this guy be so stupid? There was nothing about my body language that even came close to implying I “liked that”. Yeah dude, I like it so much that I can barely look you in the face without laughing. I like it so much that I have to tell you to slow down every ten seconds, and stop breathing so hard. By the time he finished I was so pissed off and disappointed that when he tried to cuddle I told him to leave. He asked me why and I said, “That sex was so bad that there is no amount of post-coital cuddling or cutesy pillow talk in the world that can make up for it.”

This incident happened around a year ago and luckily I’ve been better at choosing partners. This guy just couldn’t face the fact that his fucking was so bad. Honestly, if I had to choose between having sex with him again and being forced to watch Justin Beiber music videos for five hours straight. I would go with Beiber. It was that bad.

Note to the fellas: being good at sex does not necessarily come naturally. These things take time and it’s different from woman to woman. A real good sexual partner is someone who will be open-minded, and will invest in the other person’s feelings as much as their own. A good sexual partner needs to have humility, and learn from mistakes. Not deny them to the point of delusion. Obviously, I never spoke to this guy again and if you’ve ever hooked up with a girl thinking she’d call you back…maybe this is the reason why she hasn’t.

-Alison S.

Myspace was great for dating and general whoredom. Facebook is great for venting, whether over a failed relationship or simply expressing disapproval of stereotypical Negro acts. In this case, a former acquaintance of the updater has been prank calling her. Said former acquaintance has a history of trouble with the federal justice system, but was able to get the The Law and The Man off her back by pleading insanity. But the updater, through use of various references to cereals, wants that bitch to know she ain’t see ain’t really seen crazy yet. Overall, the paragraph was well crafted; the threats were malignant yet elegant, and the prose was tactfully gangster. Thus Latasha is the recipient of my first Facebook Update of the Week award. Congratulations!

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog 

At some point everyone drops a mean load that needs to be broken up with a coat hanger prior to flushing. And what do you do when that happens? You stare in disbelief at such a hideous but fascinating sight curled around your toilet bowl like a sleeping ferret. Such is the case when watching the “Big Bad Wolf” video by Duck Sauce. Though slightly upsetting, this is quite possibly the most interesting music video since Lionel Richie’s “Dancing on the Ceiling.” By the way, I still haven’t figured out how Lionel managed to hang upside down without dripping curl juice on the floor. Friggin’ amazing!

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

I’ve put up with a lot of sh*t from hip-hop through the years. Years ago I saw Hammer’s “Pump and a Bump” video, where he dances in a banana stuffed bikini, and became afflicted with lifelong penis envy. More recently, I’ve suffered through countless tracks of false rhymes about “shooting up the block” that complete overlook the most efficient manner to kill an enemy: show up at his door dressed as a UPS driver, quickly cover his face with a chlorophyll rag, stab his jugular, and ship his body to New Guinea to be eaten by the Korowai.

Thankfully there are a few new artists working to expand hip-hop with honest lyrics, influences drawn from a number of genres, and well-crafted lyrics. Case in point, Karmessiah, an “experimental” hip-hop artist out of West Columbia, South Carolina. The “rap game’s Paul Simon” and first artist to sample Al B. Sure and No Doubt just released a helluva debut album titled “Lush.” Check it out below, along with our interview.

Q: I’ve traveled a fair amount, though I’ve never been to West Columbia, South Carolina. I imagine it as a place where white chicks engage in still-taboo interracial sex with black University of South Carolina athletes and therefore feel they have permission to say “nigga,” which would be completely fine with me. Anyway, what’s West Columbia like and what influence has it had on your music?

A: Yeah that’s exactly what it’s like. Except I’ve never played football in my life, so I miss out. West Columbia is basically just the other side of the river from Columbia where the losers go. Being 20 minutes away from any real fun, or white girls who go to Carolina, lent its self to me sitting around making beats and creating this world that I live in now.

Q: Yeah, I never played football either. But my Uncle Tanisha said I’d make a great tight end. Do you feel you can stay in West Columbia and “make it,” or do you need to venture out to New York City?

A: I’ve been to NYC and I’ve never had more fun starving in my life. I tried to network and all that but I had no songs recorded at all, and ran out of money too soon. Right now I’m content to stay right here and not starve for a while, but if given a chance I’ll gladly go back to New York because it’s basically Disneyland for grown ass kids.

Q: On the “Lush” album you sample Al B. Sure and feature a Tommy James & the Shondells interlude, that’s an eclectic mix. When producing what type of sounds are you looking for?

A: I sample music I like. “Night & Day” is one of my favorite songs of all time, and probably my favorite video of all time. My dream is to remake that video and do the pirouette shit he does throughout it, that’s a vulnerable ass dance move. But real talk, I look for what’s dope buts taboo in hip hop; like the No Doubt sample on Stay Gwen for example.

Q: I like that, creating hip-hop without hyper-machismo or fear of going too far outside the genre. Here are three more female artists for you: Lady of Rage, Beth Ditto and Chaka Khan. You have to marry one, bone one and sample one. Choose…

A: Ok I’m definitely not tryna fuck Lady of Rage, so I would sample that afro puff song she had.. but wait Beth Ditto is a lesbian…aight ill fuck Beth Ditto…marry Chaka cuz I know she still gets checks.

Q: During the “See Throne” track you adlib, “We passin’ out turkeys bitch! I can’t help y’all…” It reminded of something I’d hear on a Ghostface album, cracked me up. What the hell were you talking about?

A: Well in New Jack City, Nino Brown does his best to help the community, and one of the ways he did that was passing out turkeys on Thanksgiving or Christmas, T ain know, ain seen the movie in a minute.

Q: Tracks like “Sky Ferreira” and “Five Guys” feature a rapid, aggressive delivery and have a battle rap vibe. Did you come up battling, or was your craft more so developed by writing and developing songs?

A: Hell No haha. I definitely consider myself a songwriter, not a rapper. Im like the Paul Simon of this shit, I’d like to think, or anybody equally as important as him.

Q: Rap game Phil Collins! Speaking of writing, describe your creative process.

A: Basically I find a beat that I don’t think I sound too corny over, brew some cheap ass coffee, and chainsmoke. Then from there it’s just about entertaining myself, first and foremost. I don’t like to rush so might chill for a bit, go watch some Millionaire Matchmaker then get back on the job. Then hopefully something comes out of it that I like enough to want to share.

Q: What’s next for Karmessiah? Also, are you willing to agree to the following pledge: When I blow up I will NOT release a formulaic, trite album as many rappers do in an attempt to please the masses. Meaning, you will not hear me say “I got a couple tracks for the ladies. Threw some gangsta shit on there for my real niggas. I got a radio cut too. Plus I got that Rick Ross feature…this album got something for everyone!”

A: Nobody can say whats next. I’m still waiting for Sky’s people to get at me, since I dedicated a song to her. Working on some music with some people I know. Looking for a deal. I agree to that the pledge, and i cosign too. My music isn’t for everyone, so why try to make it that way? Fuck it, if you like FIFA and beer, fuck with me. That’s all I can say, #swish.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

Unlike Snoop, I do love them hos. I admire their craftiness and ability to continually work despite serious occupational hazards, like throat herpes, which can leave its victims with a permanent T-Pain auto-tune voice. Unfortunately, most people hold negative stereotypes of prostitutes as drug-addicted heathens who will suck one’s balls off for the price of a Slurpee. Truth is a lot of hookers are sober and generally good, though money-hungry, people. I know, I lived with a prostitute.

I found my roommate “Autumn” on Craigslist. She was looking for a quiet, reliable housemate who would agree to leave the condo during client hours (weekdays from 9 A.M. to 5 P.M. and by appointment). In exchange, I would receive ultra-cheap rent in a prime San Diego neighborhood. I moved in within three weeks.

Autumn claimed to be a masseuse; at first, I gave her the benefit of the doubt. There was a massage table in the living room and oils on the counters. Besides, she didn’t fit the image of hookers I’d seen on television or during drunken nights (and Sunday afternoons) in Tijuana. She was articulate and drug-free.

In due time, however, her story started to come apart. The condo was old and damp, and the shag carpet was stained. It was reasonable to imagine a client coming over for head but not a high priced massage. Also, there was a mobile stripper pole in the living room for clients who “want to learn pole dancing to improve their flexibility.” Next to the pole were strategically placed baby wipes, perfect for removing residue from snatch juice and Victoria’s Secret Strawberries and Champagne lotion. Autumn also told me she did “loin bedazzling” for clients who wanted bling around their privates. She claimed to make good money providing this service to strippers, male and female. I saw pictures of her work on her laptop and admittedly she had skills. I suggested she market her artistic talents to the hip-hop community. Who couldn’t imagine rappers yelling, “NIGGA, YO’ BALLS AIN’T SHININ’ LIKE MINE!”?

A couple months passed, and Autumn and I developed a cordial relationship. She was older, probably in her early 40s, and talked to me like a wise aunt would, but I knew very little of her personal life. I wasn’t even sure I knew her real name, as most of her mail was addressed to another name. Still, I minded my business and we were fine until the day I arrived home a few minutes earlier than usual.

It was only a little after 5 P.M., so technically I was abiding by our agreement. Something told me to leave and come back an hour later, but the urge to watchJudge Judy, whom I had missed for months, was too much. I slowly opened the door and walked towards the living room. Autumn yelled “Dammit! Hold on!” I stood there frozen, like that time my dad caught me having sex and gave me the following advice: “Boy, you ain’t done a woman right unless she leave some hairs between yo’ teeth!”

Autumn emerged from behind a makeshift curtain used to cover the massage table, which was actually a blanket attached to ceiling hooks. Her hair was unkempt. Her thick thighs spilled out of the boy shorts she wore. The underwear was crooked and pulled low. I could see a line where her shaved pubic hair would have started. She was not bedazzled.

She yelled, “I told you 5 o’clock!”

I answered, “My bad… but it’s already after 5.”

Just then I caught a glimpse of a bare-ass man hurrying towards the bathroom. My bathroom.

“What’s he doing?!” I yelled.

“Oh…he just needs to use the bathroom real fast…. Look, we’re gonna have to do something about this. I have clients! I didn’t mean exactly 5 o’clock. My clients need time!” I walked away without another word. I went into my room and shut the door. I sat there helpless as some man in need of a fix used my shower and probably rubbed one off.

Days later, Autumn said, “We need to talk.” She looked like a seasoned boss about to fire her employee. “I like having you has a roommate and everything but you’re kind of messing up my money. I need to work more than just 9 to 5–”

I cut her off: “Look, whatever you do is your business. I’m in my room keeping to myself. If you need to work, go ahead and work. I don’t judge.”

“I run a legitimate business,” she said. She had fallen in love with her lies. “But if I have to fuck to pay the bills, then so be it. But I need to be flexible for my clients.” Then she said it, “I’ll need you to be out the place by the 10th. Even without your rent, I can do better by having more hours for my people.”

I was being macked by a hooker, but my understanding wouldn’t allow me to be angry. Autumn was about making money, and I was in the way. I moved two weeks later.

Slick bitch never returned my security deposit.

This story also ran on StreetBonersAndTVCarnage. I’m contributing there bi-monthly until they get tired of me. Stay Black.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

Girls just wanna have fun, right? Well the same goes for 7-year-old boys that wear knee-high diva boots and prefer double-dutch over football. Young Bobby Montoya likes everything little girls like; dolls, dresses, fad diets and hanging out other girls that are less pretty. Unfortunately for him he was born with something that would freak most little girls out: balls.

As a result, the Girl Scouts won’t let him join their elitist organization. To their credit they did issue a statement claiming anyone can join as long as she presents herself as a girl. So all Lil’ fierce Bobby has to do is take the “y” off his name, add an “i” and strut into that Girl Scouts’ office like, “Sign me up, bitches.” Go, Bobby! Oops…Go, Bobbi!

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog 

At first I found Herman Cain unintentionally funny, mainly because he sounds like basket-bawl coach Avery Johnson. But then he said he wants to electrocute “illegals” and give Muslims the right to worship where they please, as long as it’s not in America. Now he’s back with a commercial featuring a loosy smoking campaign manager, who looks as if he’s been up for days–presumably to cook the books and make people believe 9-9-9 helps anyone besides the man who signs the checks of the man who signs your checks. But what’s great about the ad is Mr. Cain’s porno grin at the end of the spot, perfectly befitting of a man named Herman. Next up, Cain clad in his patented black cowboy hat and chest-naked on a horse, saving peons like me from the “democratic plantation.”

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

Man, I wish I had fun in Vegas like these guys. But I guess that’s hard to do when you’re staying in the Motel 6 off the strip. Anyone up for a party in the algae-stained kiddie pool? Unlike Hard Rock there’s no DJ playing while you lounge in the water, but there is a homeless man in the alley who sings old Negro spirituals. There’s also a free continental breakfast in the morning, “continental” meaning toast and coffee. Orange juice (and beef jerky) is available for purchase at the 7/11 across the street.

Anyway, check out 50′s new Street King energy ad featuring Mike Tyson and Money Mayweather. Supporting the product helps feed children in Africa, which is much better than supporting his cologne made of rubbing alcohol and baby powder. I suppose this is what Tyson was drinking when he told Lennox Lewis, “I’m coming for you man. My style is impetuous. My defense is impregnable, and I’m just ferocious. I want your heart. I want to eat his children. Praise be to Allah!” Tyson’s hilarious, and it’s good to see him working. Hopefully they’ll invite him back to the Miss Black America pageant.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog 

1) On condition of receiving a bailout the Obama administration demanded all GM cars come with a 12 inch subwoofer and full size ho.

2) “Bruh, I gotta pray before I eat!”

3) “Honey, have you seent my dignity?”

4) This picture is actually a scene from Tyler Perry’s version of “He’s Just Not That Into You.”

5) “Listen, n*gga. You better not have no more hos up in here!” (Nope, you’re the only one.)

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

Deviant behavior is only cool if it’s crafty. And this display of public indecency is pretty clever. But why go streaking if you’re not going to get buck naked? That’s like going trick or treating and only taking one piece of candy from the absent neighbor who left a bowl of Snickers with a note that reads, “Please take one.” If they left the candy, take it all…and break into their house.

Even though the streaker, University of Arizona student Jace Lankow, remained clothed he’s still facing 18 months in jail on felony charges of criminal impersonation. This is not a surprise considering he lives in Arizona, a state where the cops harass you for being brown while breathing. Worse yet, he could also face extra time for being named Jace and wearing tighty-whitey underwear that are only sold in five packs at Walmart. But look on the bright side, the degree he earns in jail will be just as valuable as the one he was pursuing at U 0f A.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog 

The only self-help I believe in is masturbation. I just don’t think one can find the secret to happiness in a book or DVD. Still, I realize that life can be hard. Having to put duct tape on the bottom of the dress shoes you can’t afford so they can be returned after a job interview, looking at your bad ass kids and thinking “I wish Planned Parenthood had had a payment plan…” and being unsure if the Kardashians will ever truly accept Kris Humphries are just some of the stresses life hands you.  But there’s something more out there for you. Here are five ways to a live a simpler and therefore less stressful life.

1) Get rid of the phrase “I’m about to…” N*gga, just do it. Each time I hear someone say, “I’m about to start this record label, shit’s more like a movement, son!” I think to myself, “If you weren’t talking about it you’d probably be doing it.” Actions first, words later. “I’m about to…” just leads to self-doubt and talking oneself out of actually doing something.

2) Stay away from credit cards. The only good thing about a credit card is you can charge a loin massage in a Tijuana brothel, return to the States and call your card company with the following explanation, “I lost my credit card. Are there any charges? Wait, Mexico? Never been there!” Besides that they’re trouble. For example, if the charges for said loin massage aren’t reversed you end up paying double due to interest…for a handy!

3) Have one nice outfit for every season and wear that sh*t everyday. My fall 2011 outfit is a v-neck sweater, jeans and desert boots. As a result my closet is nearly empty and I don’t spend time worrying about what I’m going to wear, or how I’m going to look. Plus people remember you more when you wear the same clothes. “That’s the n*gga with the v-neck…yep.” The trick is to wear good draws and undershirts so your outfit doesn’t get soiled. But even those can be changed every other day if you’re a champion ass wiper who’s good at removing dingleberries.

4) Don’t chase money at the expense of happiness. I don’t want life to pass me by as I sit in a boring office; I prefer life pass me by while I have my lazy ass parked on the couch watching “Judge Judy.” I make enough money to cover my modest expenses, anything extra gets invested. The goal is to “retire” in five years when I have a net income of $3,000 a month coming from stocks, real estate and drug deals. That’s all I need for beer, a mortgage, fake Jordans for my son and car maintenance. I’ll never be rich and that’s OK. Working and working so I can have more stuff, including two outfits a season?  Please!

5) Don’t settle for second place. Third or fourth place are completely fine. Everyone wants to be the best and to be the winner, often at the expense of being able to enjoy life outside their main goal. In high school I wanted to be the best basketball player ever, but I was only good on my backyard court. I worked and worked and worked harder, but basketball was just not what I was supposed to be doing. Regrettably the time I spent practicing could have been spent taking girls’ virginity or letting Black Jesus into my heart, both of which are more important than basketball. Set goals but most of all enjoy the process and diversify your interests.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog 

When news of the wild animal escape in Ohio broke, my girl, who’s white when we turn the lights on, looked at me and said “I know what you’re thinking…” Yep, white people do the darndest things. But then I remembered that foolishly raising deadly animals is not just something for those who like to barbecue without seasoning the meat. A few black people, few meaning less than the number of brothas you’ll see at the Winter Olympics or a Herman Cain pizza party, own dangerous and exotic animals. In fact, the brotha in the video above had a tiger living in his tiny Harlem apartment (in complete violation of his Section 8 agreement). All was well until the owner was bitten while trying to put a matching Dipset t-shirt and doo-rag on the animal.  ”Harlem stand up!”

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

My Bible tells me that women get less pay for equal work and can’t win a presidential election because Eve disobeyed God and ate the apple. Plus she ignored Adam when he stood, thrust his pelvis to make his junk bounce and proclaimed “All the food you need is right here!” Silly women…

Since then women have tried to get revenge in a variety of ways. For example, my girlfriend in college created a fake email address and sent me pictures of a girl who was not really more attractive than her, but definitely newer, which counts just as much to a man in his early 20s. The woman claimed she met me during spring break and wanted to hang out. Of course I said yes; I even had a boner when I sent the reply. Next thing you know my girlfriend was storming at me with the emails printed out, screaming “Who is this bitch!” She finally admitted the “bitch” was in fact her. Pretty crafty! Months later I moved 3,000 miles away.

But a few scorned ex-wives in Martinez, California have taken revenge to new and more drastic heights. The heathens hired a private detective who hired a group of trollops to seduce the ex-husbands online. The women would then arrange to meet the guys in person. Once together the women would buy the men multiple drinks and suggest they drive to their friends for a party. The private detective, who secretly stood nearby to videotape the seductions, would then tip-off police that a drunk driver was on the road. Shady police would pull the men over and arrest them for driving under the influence. The ex-wives used the DUI arrest in family court to paint the father as “unfit” and therefore undeserving of custody.

Thankfully the F.B.I. got involved and the private detective will soon be in prison, where Fleece Johnson will have his way with him.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

I grew up on “Just Say No,” a catchy campaign that gave First Lady Nancy Reagan something to do besides remind her husband that he was Ronald Reagan, President of the United States.  But sometimes it pays to say yes to drugs. I have a friend who used ‘roids in moderation for a few months because he was tired of being a fat ass. It worked; now he just maintains his figure with regular workouts. He’s had no side effects. In fact, I asked him “You didn’t care about your balls shrinking? No Amaechi.” He answered, “No. Chicks don’t like balls, they like d*ck.” Good point.

Outside of the occasional marijuana brownie alcohol is my drug of choice. It removes the hint of a stammer from my speech and enables me to say things I’d usually only write. Though too much alcohol can cause one to do crazy sh*t, like use a grocery bag as a condom, I know my limit at my advanced age: 3-5 glasses of wine and four beers make the night grand.

Now there’s another drug I want to use, modafinil. Scientists refer to it as a “smart drug” because it increases memory and brain power. It’s kind of like the drug Bradley Cooper used in that movie “Limitless,” except it won’t make you ashy when you get off it. Shit’s so good that surgeons use it to get the benefits of caffeine (and blow) without the shaky hands. Surprisingly enough, like HIV and used toasters, it’s available on Craigslist, though that could be a sting The Man is setting up. If you’re one of the few people with a reasonable insurance co-pay see your doc and tell him you need something to keep you focused while you work third shift. Better yet say, “I want that good sh*t you’re taking.”

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

There’s a Herman Cain in every black family (usually an uncle). All the children like him until they tire of his advice to be extra nice to white people that work in management. Then he freaks everyone out by discussing secret Muslim plots to gain mind control by fluoridating American water sources. Finally, you stop speaking to him after he says to your Mexican girlfriend, “I like my border jumpers as I like my chicken–fried.” But all is forgiven once rich Uncle Herman gives you a down payment loan for your first home, at nine percent interest.

Here’s Uncle Herman singing a pizza-based parody of John Lennon’s “Imagine” at a gathering in 1991. With hair he bears a striking resemblance to another of my favorite uncles, Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

“I’m lovin’ it.” First they charge for extra condiments and now they use your limp body to clean the floors. This wouldn’t have happened on Calvin’s watch.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog

I never got into comics as a kid, though I did wish I had  supernatural abilities to stop stuttering and fight off Little Ronnie in the green pants who touched “my thing” before nap time in kindergarten. Dammit Ronnie, all you had to do was ask…the little boy who played double-dutch with the girls at recess, not me. Anyway, I’m not well-versed in comic culture, but I imagine they have the potential to build a child’s self-esteem, especially if a character looks like him or her–which is what Kuwaiti clinical psychologist Naif Al-Mutawa is trying to do with The 99, a comic book series featuring Muslim characters.

The 99 is named after the 99 names Muslims have for God, none of which are Jesus. Take that Jesus freaks! Characters include Jabbar the Powerful, a Saudi Arabian teen with superhuman strength and Sami the Listener from Sudan, who has superhuman hearing. Sounds cool, but if it was up to me I’d have a character named Latifah Wrong Hole, who is in a relationship with Jabbar the Powerful but has the amazing ability to retain her virginity (and family’s pride) by only having butt sex. And maybe Kareem the Ex-Convict who can magically whip up bean pies and sell them by foot in Detroit’s busiest intersections without being hit by a car. When not selling bean pies Kareem as a secret life selling stolen electronics in the Best Buy parking lot.

There’s talk of The 99 becoming a cartoon on Discovery Channel, though I find that highly unlikely since Muslims aren’t even allowed to build mosques in America.

Dewan Gibson: The Imperfect Blog 

Caribbeans of African descent have a lot in common with black Americans, they just got off the boat earlier. In addition to not smiling in pictures and having a high likelihood of becoming pregnant on the dance floor, they also have a long-held skin color complex. Black is considered strong but wrong and light is right, which is why you see an already yellow Beyonce being lightened in a L’Oreal ad. And of course there’s baseball star Sammy Sosa who retired his blackness shortly after retiring from baseball, presumably to look like a character from “Mad Men.”

Dancehall star Vybz Kartel is taking it further with a line of skin bleaching creams he’s releasing in Jamaica. After using it on himself, for what I thought was a Bond-esque plan to escape pending murder charges, he’s adding the self-hate in a jar to his portfolio of products that includes “Daggering” condoms and rum. “Buck! Buck! Buck! Me take you off this earth, like color from me skin.”