Packed deep within a block an inch thick, inserted by the hands of elders, brought from the mountains far away, an object so small that it can only be viewed with a magnifying glass, holds the fate of several thousand people, people who have no knowledge of its existence. 

I thought about starting my next novel with that last sentence.  It makes no sense, but I thought it was an attention grabber.  People would read it and wonder what it was.  Of course, I plan to never reveal it, only referring to it as it. 

People might talk about it, but I probably will never actually describe it.  I figure people would read through a crappy novel just to find out what it was, and then get pissed when it is never revealed. 

From this point people might talk to their friends, get on the internet, im, forums, blogs and write crap about how crappy the book is, the book that never reveals what it is.  They’d go on and on about how they felt cheated when they got to the end of the book and it was still it and nothing more.  And they’d blog and write about how the book’s a ripoff, and how I’m a crappy writer. 

They’d bitch about wanting to get their money back.  They’d do all of this, not knowing how I had orchestrated the entire thing to gain publicity.  They’d never know that the entire novel was a con, to gain money.  The more they talk about the book, the more popular it becomes. 

And then I’ll take that popularity and get a movie deal out of it.  And while promoting the making of the movie, I’ll reveal that I was about to start writing the sequel to the book with no reveal, a new novel where I promise to reveal everything.  And in fact, I’ll probably sell the rights to the book before I actually write a thing.

I assume that it’ll be spectacular, with me being rich in the end.  Or not.  Maybe

I wanted to start off with something spectacular, something that told you that I was back for good.  But there’s nothing in me, nothing left to give.  And yet, here I am, performing for you, the masses (of none), trying my best to create one last great performance.  And for what, you might ask?  Well, I’ll be perfectly honest, and tell you straight out.  I need cash

That’s right, folks.  I need cash.  And I’m willing to do just about anything for it, and I mean ANYTHING.  You want a kidney?  I’m your man.  You need a piece of my liver?  Come on down.  You want to see my butt-naked with only a yellow pamper on me?  Just tell me when and where.  I don’t give a damn.  I’m willing to sell my ass for a couple of fifties.  I’m willing to lie about loving Kentucky Grilled Chicken.  I willing to sit though X-Men Origins: Wolverine.  But only if you’re willing to name the right price.

That’s why I’m back, posting on this crap after two or so years of being absent.  I need the ad revenue.  And I was told by one of my financial advisers that the only way I was going to get more ad revenue is if I post more.  And not just post more, but post more about crap that’ll drive all you Iranians back to my door to click more crappy ads. 

And just so you know I’m not kidding, and this isn’t a one time in a year thing, I’m going to give you peoples the one thing I’ve never given another living soul on this earth before, and I don’t mean my penis.  Because my penis is a whore and has been given to all types of women and stuff.  They call my penis, Pimpmaster Penis, because it’s a pimp,… and a penis. 

No.  The one thing I plan to give to all of you who visit this site from now on, is my word.  Yep.  Just like Scarface.  The only thing I have is my balls and my word.  And I’ll only break one of the three for the right price.  So, if you want me to break my left ball, then I’ll do it.  I’ll still have an unbroken right ball and my word.  And if you want me to break my right ball, I’ll do that too.  I’ll still have my left ball and my word.  And I might even break my word, cause I’ll still have my left and my right ball, and my balls are more important than my word.  But for the right price, I might break both my balls, because at least I’ll still have my word, and I’d be filthy rich also.

So, there you have it, I give you my word that I will post at least once a week to this shitty ass site, unless, of course, someone pays me well enough to make me break my word.  And then, there won’t be anymore posts.  But, like I said earlier, I’m willing to break both my balls for the right price, or one of my balls for less than the right price, or my word, for a couple of dollars.

It’s been awhile since I talked to my people. I’ve been too busy trying to pay the rent to keep shit right. And because of that, I’ve lost my voice, and my ears, and maybe my eyes.

The truth be told, I told myself that I wouldn’t post anything worthwhile to this site ever again. I figured I’d just rest off of making my pennies and dimes off of shitty ass ads. And who knows, after tonight, maybe I just will. But for the time being, for this moment, I plan to share myself with my people, if only but for one night. Because my heart is hurting, and I’m filled with fear.

See. Yesterday, as the story goes, I went to work, thinking to myself, that all I wanted to do was make it through the day without any bullshit happening. And by bullshit, I meant work related bullshit. All I wanted was to get to Friday, get my paycheck, cash it, and go home.

Sure, all the money would go to bills anyway, but shit, a bill paid is another month with a place to live, some central air in these hot, muggy days, some hot water to wash my ass up with, and some food. And if I made it to Friday without any shit happening, I’d have just that. But by the end of the day, I found out that Baby Jesus and the forces of nature had something else planned.

I came home Wednesday, got my mail and checked my calls like I normally do. And on the phone, the voice mail, the caller i.d. were phone calls from relatives, relatives, the majority I only see or hear from every blue moon. So, I knew some shit had happened.

I quickly called my mother. She didn’t answer her home phone. So, I hit her up on her cell phone. She picked up. I asked her what had happened. Instead of telling me, she said she was on the way to my place once my sister came and picked her up. And right afterwards, she hung up.

At that moment, a chill ran down my spine. The worst went through my mind. I thought my grandmother had died. But the thing is, my mother didn’t sound like her only mother had just left this earth. But by her not telling me, I knew it had to be someone in my family I really cared about. If it hadn’t, why wouldn’t she had just told me over the phone.

So, I went back to the phone and listened to all the messages. Most didn’t reveal much. Then, went through the caller i.d. again. I checked to see who had called me that seemed out of the ordinary.

And there I spotted, back to back, two cousins who I hadn’t seen in years. One of them, I used to be close to, and the other was one of those distant relatives you only see at family picnics and other weird shit like that. These two woman were sisters who really didn’t get along. This made me think that my eldest aunt had died. And to be honest, to tell the sickening truth, I was a little relieved.

Because by then, my mind had started thinking the worst. I wondered if my cousin, who’s a police officer, had been killed on the job. I wondered why my sister was picking up my mother, and from where. My mother never told me where she was at. I thought maybe my little nephew had died. And I just wanted to hit something. But then I thought, my mother would’ve sounded worser if it was her grandchild.

Then, I hoped it was just someone I didn’t really care about like, I don’t know, my crackhead uncle. I got a little sad for the moment, but soon, I felt an unexpected sense of freedom. What if he was dead? Then, a big part of my problems would die with him.

At this moment, I was really hoping it was him. And then, I thought things might not be so bad if it was my eldest aunt. Sure, I would be sad, but I saw myself getting over that grief pretty quickly. Soon after, I went through the list of distant cousins, aunts and uncles I probably wouldn’t be too fucked up over. And I could feel a calming feeling coming over me.

It was at this moment my mother came through the door. She was with my sister and a cousin I actually like. They quickly told me that another aunt had been killed. She had been hit by a car early that Wednesday morning trying to catch a bus to work.

Then, they asked if I had seen any police cars or ambulances on my bus route to work. And I told them that I had. They relayed that I had passed the scene right after the accident had occurred. And for a moment, I was stunned. The ambulance that I had glanced at on the bus probably held the body of my dead aunt.

###They stayed for awhile and told me that the family was gathering over at the dead aunt’s house. I told them that I wouldn’t be joining them. They left, and I stayed in the silence, my thoughts continuing to work through my head.

I wondered why I wasn’t as sad as I thought I should have been. The only time I felt any sense of loss was when I thought of passing the accident. And the only real thing I’ve ever felt since hearing she passed is what I feel today, anxiety and fear.

###When I opened up the door the next day after a day of bullshit work, I found my mother inside with my sister and two cousins of the male variety. They were laughing and eating, speaking positive, with joy, on memories of my late aunt. I did what I normally do, and then went to the back and took a shit/ Afterwards, I went to my room.

My mother later came back to me. She said she wanted to use my copier to make out some prints of the police report. Apparently some members of my family believe the accident may have been a hit and run. Some think there might be a wrongful death suit in the works. She told me she was making copies for a cousin who might file the claim for the family. Then she whispered something I feared hearing. Apparently, one of my relatives overheard two other aunts plotting to take over the late aunt’s insurance policy and other finances.

At that moment, fear went through my body. I was expecting nothing less. Unfortunately, when it comes to money, my family is like a a group of baby rapists in a day care. And I wouldn’t doubt that any one of them would slit my throat in a minute if large amounts of cash was on the line.

My mother told me that she had slowly, overnight, set up a Coalition of the Free of family members to take on the Axis of Evil that had formed the day before. The Coalition of the Free wanted to free the Axis of Evil of any money they might try to take hold of. And at that very moment, Coalition of the Free members were at the home of the dead aunt trying to free her home of any financial papers before the Axis of Evil could get their hands on anything. The only snag, Axis of Evil members were already at the home helping to “tidy” things up. And furthermore, my mother was on her way back to the battleground to join her members-in-arms.

When she left, I noted a distinct since of disturbance within my body, as if the bile deep within my belly was about to explode upward through my mouth and nose like a great volcano. I truly needed to sit. And as I sat, I remembered a conversation I had with one of the male cousins that had visited that day.

I remember telling him that the people I feared the most were the ones closest to me, like my family. He became upset that I would think that a family member would do any other family member any real harm. And I threw at him fake facts, shit I had overheard somewhere, like the news or something. I gave him this shit all tidied with fake bullshit percentages and everything.

Like: most people are more likely to be killed by someone they know then by a stranger. And, in fact, over 40% of all murders are committed by family members towards another family member. True. That’s why when a wife goes missing, the first place the cops look is at the husband. And when a kid is killed, the first suspects are the parents, or at least the filthy fuck up the mother is shacking up with. That’s why the person you should fear the most is the person that drinks with you, and smokes with you, and shares the same DNA.

He then angrily said that our family was nothing like that. Then I brought up a fucked up, cracked out female cousin who was known to steal from relatives. I asked my cousin if he thought that was right? He responded that he didn’t think that was right. Then I brought up my cousin’s brother, who’s a known thug. I asked him if he thought it was brotherly when his brother stole his new pair of Air Force Ones. He said that it wasn’t right. So, I responded, if his brother would do something un-brotherly like steal from him, what would stop his un-brother from doing worse, like murder. And at this moment, my cousin sat still.

Because he knew the old adage, if you lie, you steal. And if you steal, what on earth would stop you from killing.

That’s why, in this world, every man should know never ever to trust no one, which probably means trust everybody but actually means, always keep your gun loaded especially when family comes-a-calling.

By the way, you can use that in the chorus of your next rap song.

P.S. If you don’t hear from me again, expect that a relative has come and killed me.

Katie sent me a message on MySpace. She wrote that she really wants to be friends with me. She even sent a picture of herself, and she looks quite nice, if only a little too young for my tastes.

To Katie, I really appreciate you giving yourself out like that. It makes me proud that young girls across the world are sending out pretty little messages to nice young gentlemens such as myself.

For awhile I thought I had lost it. I haven’t had a date in four months. And I haven’t gotten laid since the beginning of last summer. In fact, I only recently knocked a good one out after a six month drought. I think I was due one.

So, when I got that little message from Katie, and that sweet little picture of her posing in her white top and little black skirt, I nearly flipped my wig. It was a welcomed sight, and it made a lonely boy happy again.

So, again, thank you Katie. You’ve once again made Uncle Sam proud. And I hope that one day we might meet. Word to Chris Hansen.

Man robs bank to be ‘supported’

Everybody needs a little support every once in awhile. Everybody needs a shoulder to cry on, and a lap to lie their head. I know I do.

These have been trying times for your neighborhood soothsayer. I may be able to practicate that fortunality in a disambiguous fashion, but in no way am I able to stand myself separate from its hands. These days, the truth takes its fingers about my neck easily, and squeezes heavily until the last gasp exits my body. And I can do nothing but let it.

And if I should continue with such honest confession, let me state that fates visage stares about my wreakage and holds steady until ready to topple my very existence. That is why I am so weary. That is why the wetness escapes my eyes nightly. It is for this that I have contemplated ending it all, or at least almost it all.

Standing helplessly is no way a grown male human should be perceived. And my opposite finds me weak for admitting this fallacy of my form. So be it. But I can no longer lie about such truths. I must be honesty with myself. I must make solid and whole my cowardice.

And for that, I shall state that my innards should so match my new-formed femininity. I should be so pleased to bear child within me, and to have such being suckle from my mammary. Perhaps I should injest teas and soy to hurried the result.

Should a being as low as I not want this outcome no less than the continued beating that is taken by the hands of Nature, a great mother of sort. Or perhaps, may I not want to continue to be the dog that sits before the feet of thy ethereal Paradise. The cocksucker of the Universe, the devil of the mortal walking dead.

But as such, being that I am man, and as man, I want far greater than my reach can grasp. Even when my reach does break free, is it not as fate to let that great gift, so sweet and fragrant, become an even heavier burden to hold between my limbs.

It is for this that I shall continue in my sickness, my misfortune to grow with the grand melancholy befitting an animal such as I. To be truthful of myself is to walk about the knees, and partake of the meal that only a mealy-mouthed cocksucker such as I should only prefer.

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Tool Generates Fake Searches for Privacy

I remember one time doing a Google image search for “bestiality.” For some reason I was really curious as to what I would come up with. And man, did I come up with some mind-altering stuff (Whoopi and Ted Danson pics). It was clearly sickening and filthy, and it stayed with me for quite awhile. I remember, afterwards, telling myself that I would never do something like that again.

Of course, it completely slipped my mind when, sometime later, I did a search for “fudge munching.” Man, that sure was some sick stuff that popped up that time. Golly Geewillikers. (I hope I spelled that right?) It messed me up for quite awhile. I remember telling myself that I would never do that again. And I don’t think I have (liar). Although, I’ve been tempted.

There’s always something you know you shouldn’t plug into a search engine, but you do, because, well, you’re curious (Goatse), and possibly really horny at the time. It’s through these vulnerable times that I believe most people get infected with one of those nasty computer viruses.

I mean, you could be innocently searching for “naked britney spears golden shower” and get a hit or two. Of course, all the videos have to be fake, because Britney would never do anything filthy like that. Maybe Christina, but not Britney. But you’re curious. You wanna know what you’ll find. So, you click that link, and next thing you know, you get hit with a million pop-ups.

You try clicking them all away. And by randomly clicking, and not reading, you inadvertently let some malicious site load a virus on your system. And you know the rest. Your computer’s toast, and you got a lot of digital cleaning to do.

Of course, the greater problem, especially in these times, is that the man is keeping a record of all that crap, waiting to use it on a righteous negro like myself. They’ve been suing these search engine companies left and right, trying to get a hold of them search logs. I heard the man plans on using that information to put the lockdown on pornography, most notably, child ponography.

And I guess I wouldn’t have a problem with that if the government limited the use of those logs to the baby rapists, because I hate those freaks, and they definitely need to be locked up. But we all know, from JFK, to negros being intentionally infected with syphilis, down to CointelPro, the white devil has a tendency of doing some nasty secret crap on a negro.

One minute you’re searching for naked pics of Beyonce, the next , you got the FBI busting down your door at five in the morning, tearing through your stuff, taking away your cds of nice legal porn and copyrighted material. Now where you at?

And that’s why, a righteous black man gotta protect himself. That’s why I keep my computer on lockdown with all kinds of security crap. I got my router firewall, and my Outpost software firewall. I keep Spy Sweeper running in the background, and I use Windows Defender and that Lavasoft crap. I encrypt all my messages with that PGP crap, and I even encrypt my hard drive, the whole dang thing. I clear out my Firefox history and logs. I clear out them cookies. And once a year, I reformat my hard drive to make sure things be clean for the new year.

Unfortunately, a brother gotta do these things, and many others, because you never know when the white devil’s coming to get a brother.

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RadioShack lays off employees via e-mail

Radio Shack: the place where I buy alls my stuff like telephone jacks, and headphones that break after a couple of months of use. And also my soldering which I use to fix the wiring of all the products I buy from them.

This is some cold-bloodied, white devil crap. The corporate boys over at Radio Shack have been sending termination notices through e-mail. I ain’t never heard of no evil crap like that happening before, but just reading that gave me the chills.

Let’s say you’re at work like I am. And you’re on them Internets “researching” and discussing “business” matters. Like most people, you keep that e-mail up most of the day. I don’t even care for Eudora, but I load that bad boy up every morning. And I love hearing them bells chime. Usually it’s spam for penis enlargements or some great financial deal. But every once in awhile I get some real mail, something from a co-worker or a client.

And let’s say, in between the Internet surfing and the mail checking (stuff you’re getting paid for), you hear those good ole chimes go off and you decide to check your mail. Only, instead of some boring office mailing from a co-worker, you read something that goes a little something like this “Open Immediately! Urgent Company Matter.”

So you do. And you read the crap and find out that you’ve just been fired, by reading the e-mail, you’ve just been informed of your termination, and you have until the end of the day to get your crap off the premises.

They don’t even call you into the office or nothing. You get to the end of the e-mail and you find out that that day was your last day. Now, I call doodie on that. That’s some bogus way to be broken off some.

And you don’t even get no flowers afterwards.

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The Chairman speaks on Kurt Angle

Kurt Angle has been released from the WWE. Even though the company line says it was mutual, many inside sources say that Angle was released for over-medicating himself. He’s worked through several nagging injuries over the past few years, including broken ribs, and, of course, his broken neck, and he’s still been able to wrestle better than most wrestlers on the WWE roster. In fact, he’s wrestled better than most men on any of the major wrestling circuits. That’s why it was such a shock when the news broke. And it will be a great loss not having Kurt Angle work regularly inside the four corners.

But the greater concern was on his health. Mentally, the man couldn’t be right. Personally, he was going through a divorce, with rumors having his soon-to-be ex-wife pregnant with another child. And professionally, Angle has been noted as saying that he was in so much pain that he couldn’t even think straight. And the only way he was able to control that pain was with painkillers. He had come to rely on the pill so much over that he became one of the first suspended in WWE’s new Wellness program.

What made things worse is that Angle, even with the intense pain, still went full throttle when he worked his programs. And this, of course, led to more injuries, recently suffering a groin injury which took him out of a three-way match with RVD and Sabu. Seeing that nothing good could come with letting Angle continue wrestle, Vince McMahon called for a meeting between the two. And from this meeting, it was decided that Angle should take some time off.

So, that’s where we stand, one of the greatest wrestlers of all time, sitting on the bench. If it weren’t for him, the newfound legitimacy that pro wrestling has recently received wouldn’t be. I doubt if Shelton Benjamin, Brock Lesnar, or Bobby Lashley would have considered pro wrestling a viable career choice if it weren’t for Angle.

Angle approached his fake matches as if they were real one. His intensity and planning in the ring made the whole spectacle look true. And that’s because Angle approached it as if it were true. His matches, his mat work, his stunts and spots all carried the intensity and the integrity of a man he won a gold medal in the Olympics.

And that’s why you never knew if Angle would win or lose. Because he was known to lose when he believed the match and the storyline called for it. And he almost always made his opponent look better than they were. Every wrestler, every booker, knew if you wanted someone to have a good match, you paired them with Angle. And because of that, the wrestling world will be losing a grand master of the art.

But I think it can be stated, it might be for the best. If Angle’s mental and physical health is of any of his co-worker’s or fan’s concern, then this extended leave of absence that Angle has been forced to take can only be good. And here’s hoping that the Wrestling Machine gets back healthy, that he gets his life back right, rather he returns to the ring or not, because, coming from one fan, that’s all anyone can ask to granted to someone who has given so many so much.

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FLASHING NEWS BREAKING THING – The next season of Survivor will split the races up, like the white man really wants it to be.

The new twist in the next season is that the blacks, the whites, the Asians, and the Latino will be split up in four groups according to race.  I could insert a lot of insensitive racial jokes right here, but I’m above that, unlike some people.

A lot of people are up in arms over this, but I’m somewhat interested enough that I might have to check out the new season.  I haven’t really watched the show since the second season, and I bailed on it halfway through.  So, I guess the race-baiting might actually work, if it brings in viewers who had stopped watching the show like I had.  So, the bottomline: these kind of stunt shows occasionally work. 

I hadn’t watched Big Brother since the second season, but I’ve been checking it out occasionally since they’ve been doing this All-Star thing.  The best thing about bringing back past houseguests is that I got to see Will and that other dude lie their way through the game all over again.

Makes me wonder why people even trust Chilltown, especially after they’ve seen the candid video scenes from the second season of the show? You would think that when the other houseguests saw that Chilltown was back together, they would know to pull their strengths together so that they could toss those two liars.  But nope, people aligned with them, and because of that, all the other players have been dead meat since the first episode of the new season.

By the way, Janelle is hot as hell.  I can’t believe chicks like her actually exist in real life.  I’m seriously thinking of stalking a white devil cave chick.

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