zyansaeed615 – Page 16

The Week You Missed

zyansaeed615 / March 20, 2015

I open with an homage to one of my favorite shows, Shameless….. While you were busy extending your hand in love and getting ya bracket busted, here’s what you missed. Stephen A. Smith (R-ESPN) wants your vote. Mr. Smith had a dream. He dreamed that for one, JUST ONE, election his fellow black people would break the chains of slavery and mental oppression and vote republican. I know…I know, what you are thinking. How the Republican Party has shown nothing but contempt and treasonous behavior for our beloved messiah. How the Republican Party has shown ZERO interest in courting us, never buys us flowers, never uses Vaseline. Won’t even spit on it first. Obliterates budgets and programs aimed at helping us pick ourselves up by our bootstraps. How they write “secret” racist emails about us, and about our first family. How inclusive they are of blatantly racists groups and fundraisers. But…Mr. Smith feels like we are disenfranchising ourselves by literally telling them with our long-standing democratic support that we don’t give a damn about the Republican Party. I get what he is saying. I really do. Neither party at the end of the day gives a fuck about our plight; the Democratic Party doesn’t, because like he said, they got us. We are their long-suffering side chick. No one goes the extra mile for their side chick, until that bitch pulls up stakes and leaves. But much like Karrueche, where are we going? To the party that gave us Alan Keyes, Herman Cain and Stacey Dash? We ain’t that damn Clueless. (RIMSHOT!) Like our lives, our schools matter too. While the relevancy of HBCUs (Historically Black Colleges and Universities) is often discussed amongst us, a predominantly black community college in Chicago is making waves on the national front. Kennedy-King College (KKC), a school in one of the worst neighborhoods in the city, has just been awarded the “New Rising Star Institution Award” from the Aspen Institute. The institute, an educational and policy studies organization whose mission is to foster leadership based on enduring values and the discussion of critical issues, bestowed the honor on KKC after the school increased its graduation rate by 50% in just five years – more than tripling its rate in 2010. The Vice President of Aspen’s College Excellence division said he has NEVER seen this type of rapid improvement. Kennedy King will take home $100,000 to support its various educational programs. Congrats, my young gifted and black grads! Empires Build Power. I would cut FIF a check for that witty inspiration, but he a B.A.N.(use your vowels), and I don’t like his ass. Yep! The Empire broke the internet this week. Literally, it broke Twitter. Yasssssssssss, negative stereotypes. Yassssssssssssss, dysfunction. Yasssssssssssssssssssss, ugh boys kissing boys. Pffffft…..It’s just no winning with some of yall. Five years ago, there were literally NO shows on primetime network television with black leads. Now there are. The naysayers are the same ones that would have petitioned to get Amos n’ Andy off the air and perhaps rightfully so. But Amos n’Andy begat I Spy and Julia. And they begat successful entrepreneur George with his deeeeluxe apartment in the sky he shared with his beautiful, regal dark skinned wife. And they begat the good doctor, his savvy attorney mate and their educated brood. And they begat the Queen and her roommates and Yoba’s ashy lips. I’m not suggesting Empire is perfect, I’m just saying; sit on it for a moment. Mary Jane, Olivia, Annalise and Cookie are proving to the world and more importantly the advertising community that we can carry a show and a MUTHAFUCKIN network. I imagine more stories are coming down the pike. And if you don’t like the ones that are currently on, THEN WRITE ONE. Throw It Like Davis That lil green eyed bandit that stole ALL of our hearts during the Little League World Series is out here doing her THANG. Ms. Mo’ne, the first young woman to throw a shutout in little league world series history; the first little leaguer to appear on the cover of Sports Illustrated, is OUTCHERE doing big thangs. Next on deck for our baby, after publishing her book, “Remember by Name“, is her own movie! Yasssssssssssssssssssssss. “Throw Like Mo” on which she will serve as a consultant, is a film about her life set to air on the Disney Channel. Ms. Davis, whose external beauty is, clearly only rivaled by her internal beauty, is also designing her own shoe line, which will benefit underprivileged girls. She is producing the line with M4D3 (Make a Difference Everyday) and a portion of the sales will go towards Because I Am A Girl, a program that combats child poverty and promotes gender equality globally. This girl makes my fucking ovaries cry. Check her dope ass kicks out here. Aiight…I’m out. Pay closer attention to what’s going on out here, so I don’t have to keep telling yall’s asses.

Recaps

Did I Watch Empire or Drop Acid?

zyansaeed615 / March 19, 2015

But…. See… Now how they….They ain’t said shit bout…Awwww, hell naw…..Oh Shit…Wait who is that…..Is this nword singing…..WHITE WALKER? This was my internal dialogue last night during THE Empire. Those 5 of you that follow this blog know that I am not very faithful to it. It’s hard for me to write when I’m not inspired to do so. I usually just share my genius with the world via Facebook, which will never make me any money. So when Gaylane told me to get off of Facebook last night and dedicate myself to gem dropping on my own post, I did. It keeps the lights on in my place of employment and I encourage you to continue to watch it (like I had to). However, I’m not a superfan of the show. From the onset it just felt like the writers were throwing everything at you at breakneck speed. I made allowances for that during the pilot. The pilot is your best shot – ya gotta give it all you got. Couple weeks in, it settled into itself and found a groove. But last night, it seemed to have returned to pilot form with the writers saying, “hey, all that shit we didn’t fit into the last 9 episodes, throw it in.” The result was a fever dream for me. I was having so many what the fuck moments….and now, in no particular order, for your reading pleasure, here they are….. Did this child just sing at a rap battle? This gave me agita from the top of the scene. I felt an 8 Mile rip off coming. And off it came. My lil nephew from the D told me that while it does not often happen, it is not unheard of for someone to sing at a battle. I hope he was lying to me. And who exactly wrote, Boo-Boo is it, who exactly wrote his rhymes? I heard music industry people are heavily involved creatively in this show….they need to get more heavily involved. Boo-boo’s battle rap was straight gah-bige. Jamal’s song wasn’t much better. Hip Hop is too homophobic, they would have ran his ass straight up outta there. My Name ain’t Squeak. It’s Mary Alice. This fool Lucious dropped a bomb on us!!!! A bomb that exploded with the full force of a piece of tissue landing on another piece of tissue. His real name is White Walker. Awwwww shit, Lucious bout to pop up in Game of Thrones!!! Yes, it’s on like Donkey Kong!!!!! Oops, that’s just T. Howard’s grating ass voice causing confusion – his bad, DWIGHT Walker. Changed his name because the world would have torn up a Dwight, but not a Lucious. Mmmmmmkay. For one, no one cares. And for two, no one cares. This added nothing to the story. Present Time! Who doesn’t love a present? I know I do. I would be so excited opening a big assed gaudy gold chain. Or a big assed gaudy gold stick to represent a donation to a foundation. Or a big assed gaudy gold whatever the hell that was he gave Jamal to symbolize his takeover of Empire – which btw, why is a successor needed again, now that he ain’t dying? But what confuzzled me in this scene was his gift of a pillow to Cooks. Ummmm, ma’am, you JUST (I assume, cuz what’s a timeline to this show) tried to smother him – with a pillow. Did it not dawn on you to ask WHY he was giving you a pillow? Did you not know the jig was up at that moment? And Lucious….you stayed cool with her thereafter for WHAT reason exactly? 4. JHUD Psychiatrist? Counselor? Church Girl? Singer? Performer? Miracle Worker/Healer who healed Andre in record time just by playing the piano with him? All of the above? Listen, I may be in the minority here, but I’m not a fan. I’m not quite sure who her fan base is. I mean we all root for the hometown kid, with that tragic assed backstory. I wanna see her win allllllllllways allllllsthetimes. But, if I never saw her perform in anything ever again, that would be okay with me too. She ruined the Sex and the City movie for me. RUINED IT. So glad Andre is back with his chick….I hope to never see her again. White Women Can ALWAYS Call the Police No further commentary required. Jamal Knight Couple weeks ago, Bender (get it?) straight went Omar (get that?) on Lucious when they met up in the skreets for their lil sword swinging session over whatever the hell they were beefing bout. Now, a couple weeks later (again, cuz what is time?) Jamal busts up in his joint and Vanilla Ice’s him annnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnd nothin? No retribution? No dance off? No rap battle? No gun fight? Nah son. I ain’t going. It’s a crap ton of other moments that had me fucked up, like the ENTIRE second hour. The first hour was a good as this show gets. If it ended with Cookie getting that pillow, that would have been a perfect ending and I would have stood up, okay, I would have SAT up and gave a slow clap. But that second hour had me questioning my sobriety. All I know is hostile takeover, crystal vs. alexis smackdown, lucious in jail. I’m encouraged tho. This runaway hit has gotten a full season order and they now have time to flush out characters and storylines. Season two should be awesome. Oh, one more thing, if you see Becky out in them skreets, tell her no one cares her mother is white and moreover, no one believes her. POWER TIME!!!!!!!

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You Aint Black As Me

zyansaeed615 / March 18, 2015

Some of the pro-black crowd are the nastiest, most vile, demeaning people I have encountered on The Good Book. And I say that having electronically lived through Trayvon, Mike Brown, Eric Garner, Ray Rice, JRW and fucking Afroman. Note: if you are unable to understand descriptive or qualifying words, such as the FIRST word in the post, stop reading now, cuz you’re gonna get pissed cuz you think I’m talking about you. In the event you do think that, it’s because I am. Yesterday was one of those days that separates the men from the boys, the mouth breathers from the Mensa society, left from right, sisters and brother, creationists and the science community, Biggies and ‘Pac-ers: St. Patrick’s Day. Yes, a day no one really gives a fuck about, lead to me and several other participants being called: stupid, lost, pathetic, pitiable, uncultured, unaware and a whole lot of other un-words. Yep, because some folks wore Green, had a drink with Seamus O’Brien, marched in a parade, dared to cite their Irish ancestry, we ain’t black as those that didn’t participate. A bitc—misguided young lady even had the nerve to suggest I had Stockholm Syndrome. EL OH TO THE MUTHAFUCKING EL. Me? Stupid? An accusation made by a stranger no less? Mya? Mya Seals? Mya Courtney Seals? Mya – who was educated in some the best MAJORITY BLACK (Beasley, Whitney Young – look it up) schools in Chicago; Who knew the names and products of over 50 black inventors by the age of 9; whose Mother made sure her education didn’t stop in the classroom and taught me about the ancient civilizations of Africa before I knew algebra; who attended not one, but TWO HBCUs…yeah, I could go on, but I’m not cuz I don’t have to defend nor prove who I am, nor what I know. So good, we clear on the fact that I ain’t stupid. Amirite? What I am tho, is tired. Me participating in the St. Patrick’s Day parade doesn’t make me any less black than your dreadlocks make you down with the cause. From where I’m standing, if you were SO about your people you would turn these moments – Patty’s Day, Cinco de Mayo (which I’m celebrating the FUCK out of, so get ya meme game tight), et. al, into building moments. But, nope…….because you are so nasty and vile, you choose to name call and take yet another opportunity to draw a black ass line in the black ass sand. To explain to me why I ain’t black as you. Why my black ain’t good enough. Why? “If you wore green today, but don’t ever wear red black and green – KILL YO SELF!” – What if I wore green on Sunday, am I still black and do I still have to kill myself? “If you celebrated St. Patrick’s Day, but didn’t celebrate Black History Month – KILL YO SELF!” – Okay, but I did Black History posts every day during February (well I started off doing them), I went to church First Sunday – my very Unashamedly Black and Unapologetically Christian church for the special service, so do I still have to kill myself? “I don’t see any other culture celebrating King Day, so if you celebrating theirs – KILL YO SELF!” Well which is it, are we partying on King Day or not? Cuz, I’m ALWAYS down to get drunk and party. You look down with great disdain when them MLK party flyers hit the scene, but how else will the masses know that it’s muthafuckin party time!!!! Also, please advise, I worked on King Day. Does that make me blacker in your eyes, cuz I didnt celebrate the day “The Man” gave to us after ordering the murder of our beloved leader or loyal to my massa and do I still have to kill myself? Sigh….. And it doesn’t stop at the holidays. Last week I saw a post that hung Kendrick “I Want A Darker Girl In The Video” Lamar in effigy, cuz he was on the cover of Rolling Stone with a girl that looked like me, or at least her hands and belly were the same color as mine, cuz that’s all you could see of her. This is a problem, cuz I and this cover model ain’t blackity black black black. Sorry Kendrick, you ain’t black enough either for letting this happen. This discussion, like most when discussing the relative blackness of anything, devolved into what I described before: name calling; disrespect – yet again it was suggested someone was stupid; and a cesspool of negativity. It’s sad that our one common trait – cuz black people ain’t a monolith – our one common trait, our blackness, regardless of if you are my color or lupita’s – is the one thing WE use to divide ourselves. And nastily at that. I’m gonna go now. For one, I have to check on my friend Brendan, who went out with his co-workers to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day. I need to make sure that he is still black. And for two, I have to check on the progress of a story I pushed to be on the air about a young black girl makin moves OUTCHERE. I also need to make sure that we cover that story I told Dar about regarding Kennedy King College being in the running for the nation’s top award for achievement and performance in community colleges. And fucccccccccccccccccck, I gotta hit up Micaeh to see if we can get pull some Dolphin power together to get her Oscar-winning black client on the morning show. I work everyfuckingday to make sure the right images of my people are shown where I work and where the world can see them, but these green jeans I wore yesterday prove my lack of blackness. Suck all the dicks, losers.

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The Pursuit of Mayoralness

zyansaeed615 / January 28, 2015

A couple of months ago, I was selected to be one of the “Top Bachelorettes of Chicago” — yeah y’all see it. It was a pretty dope event, but everyone there was much younger than me. There was this one dude in there, fly as hell, playing the back. I slid over, laid my game down quite flat, put the dimples on him and shit. We chitted and chatted. He told me he traveled a lot for his father’s company – was rarely in town. We exchanged numbers and ended up texting a week or so later, but nothing ever materialized. He floated to that place in my brain where people I meet in passing go to be forgotten. I’m quite certain I disappeared to that same exact place in his. Fast Forward a couple months, I’m lying on Frusband’s couch, watching some fair and balanced news, when I see a face on the screen, that I know, but don’t know. It was dude. It was a story about how his wealthy father was a not a dead beat dad, as his half-brother previously described him on that very same news program. I remember the complete story, but I ain’t gonna bore y’all with the details. At this point in the story, the only pertinent information is his daddy was running for mayor of Chicago and is worth 60 MILLION DOLLARS. What follows is where some of you will begin to think less of me and some of you will completely understand. Found him on The Book. Hit that message button and SLIIIIIIDDDDDDDDDD all up in his inbox. Said some old slick shit, we went back and forth a couple messages. He was still that cool dude I’d spent that evening with. I decided at that point, I would never run my big mouth about his dad on social media, for one day, I may be the First Lady of the Family Business. Today, I learned why people should not ever say never. His father forced my hand today. His father tapped danced all over my last good nerve. His father walked me right up to the edge, and pushed. His father challenged my resolve ….and his father’s name is Willie Wilson. I met Mr. Wilson when he came by my job to do an interview. When he and his contingency arrived, I thought them to be a church group. Nothing about them screamed politics. Nothing. It wasn’t until I saw him on his way out and he asked if he had my vote that I discovered he was running for mayor. I told him I had to check out his platform and I’d holla back. Well, check him out I did. In the interview with our political editor. In the infamous Chicago Tribune Questionnaire. On Chicago Tonight. On Hardball. And finally kids….in the Great Mayoral Debate of ’15. JEEZUS. Let me just say, for those of you who may not be familiar with Mr. Wilson, his is an incredible story. Google “Rags to Riches” and you are gonna see his face. This is a person who has truly picked himself up by his bootstraps and like most of us he wasn’t wearing a halo the entire time. There are skirmishes, accusations, deaths, personal setbacks and still, he rose. Despite only having a 7th grade education, this man has ascended to the heights that many of you can only dream. (SHADE TREE EMOTICON AT YALL) As he likes to remind us, he is two generations from slavery. His manner of speaking won’t let us forget that fact – it can be challenging at times to understand him. But he’s created and run a number of successful companies, so somewhere along the way someone knew exactly what the fuck he was talking about…FUCK MYA. So this is what made me give up my light weight quest for the throne. This is an actual tweet sent out by…..somebody in his camp, after the first mayoral debate. I suppose they felt victorious. The much vaunted “gotcha moment” had been achieved, I guess. It helps if you know how to spell your opponent’s name and understand subject verb agreement if you are attempting to feel superior to someone. He’s not ready to be Mayor. And that’s fine. Many argued Barack wasn’t ready to be President, but he was. Willie don’t seem to give NO FUX about being mayor, and that, is not fine. His platform, or lack thereof, written responses, spoken responses and those he’s chosen to surround himself with, tell me that. If I’m wrong and you do have fux to give, Willie, pick up what I’m bout to lay down. 1. Please understand that Spell Check is your friend. It’s all of our friend, trust me. Please don’t ever again send out another written response nor TWEET without hitting the ol’check. Share this info with your press person too, K? 2. Get a one-way ticket out of Hollywood. Hendon. As in Rickey. He has you running for mayor of Black Chicago and that place does not exist. That nickel slick shit he does works on the west side. It ain’t gonna play all over the city. And another thing, lemme holla at you bout them radio spots Hollywood blessed you with…. 3. Stop talking bout Meigs Field. It’s not “hot-button” as they say in politics. No one is sitting out on Northerly Island on a warm summer night thinking about how they wish they weren’t there, but an airport they never went to was. Promise. 4. Hire some political consultants. Let Sister Mary’nem return to the Deaconess Board. I seent you on Election Night up on da stage with Boss Rauner. He bought a campaign, ask him for the homies number. 5. Don’t come back until you do all of the above. You are the shit in so many ways. You could likely teach a class at Harvard School of Business. Hell, a Pursuit of Happyness type of movie

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Who you calling a B…asic?!

zyansaeed615 / January 22, 2014

From Merriam Webster : forming or relating to the most important part of something : forming or relating to the first or easiest part of something : not including anything extra The basic difference between the two companies is their size. The motel is comfortable but pretty basic: you get the necessities all right, but no luxuries. From The Urban Dictionary : an adjective used to describe any person, place, activity involving obscenely obvious behavior, dress, action. : Unsophisticated. : Transparent motives. Pat was trying to fuck that drunk girl – so basic. Shelby was showing off her tits for attention – fucking basic. Well those are two extremely different definitions of that word, huh? I’ve been thinking a lot about this word lately as it keeps popping up. I have been known to apply the Urban Dictionary slant to more than a few chicks and DANs*, when exhibiting behaviors I find less than desirable. It’s easy to dismiss them as being simplistic and unsophisticated. But things have been happening lately to make me take a good look at myself when applying that label to others. B as in BASIC BEYONCE or as in BUM BLOGGER? Last week, my boy Big posted a blog on his Facebook page where this chick went on and on about the basicness of Beyoncé. In her poorly worded article, which has since been edited cuz the Bhive tore her a new one – (the child thinks she bRought Beyoncé’s album from iTunes; she has since realized she purchased it) – the blogger offers the following as proof of Bey’s basicness: 1. She doesn’t sing as well as others? I guess. But then the list of basic singers, Janet, Rih Rih, Prince (YOP), starts to get very long. 2. She doesn’t do one thing really well, but has mastered the art of doing a lot of things thoroughly, which she then goes on to describe as an incredible work ethic. Isn’t an incredible work ethic, ONE THING? 3. She says little because she is shallow and dumb. “Be honest: none of us really know Beyoncé.” I can’t express how much I want to slap the dog fuck out the person that wrote this statement. She cites Blue Ivy’s hair, Bey’s weave, how Bey is all things to a diverse group of people – a trait of the basic if I ever heard one – and a bunch of other bullshit, that I easily and summarily dismissed. Thanks bad writer, but there is nothing basic about Beyoncé and so I have to stop talking about you and your wack blog post, cuz I’m like BUSY and have folks reading this and I don’t want to waste their time like I did reading your garbage. THE PASSION OF TUESDAY & THURSDAY NIGHTS Last night, Mary Jane comes on and as reliably as a nun’s period, the internet – or more appropriately the BLACK INTERNET (not to be confused with #blacktwitter, cuz I <3 #blacktwitter) BLEW THE FUCK UP as it is wont to do on Tuesday/Thursday Nights and/or Wednesday/Friday mornings. “Where’s Claire?” “Why she gotta promote sidechicks?” “Im sick of these images of black women on television.” “Four minutes into watching this show for the first time I decided, this shit could only be enjoyed by the basics. ” Wait, holup bitch…holup up….HOLD. THE. FUCK. UP. That last line was the opening a Mary Jane review, by a very popular blogger – who my tres current ass just heard of yesterday – who then went on to say how she enjoys flamin hots, after which I blacked out and where this blog comes in. WHO THE FUCK IS DETERMINING WHAT IS BASIC? This person, who from the looks of it, eats flamin hots by the trough, just called me basic cuz I watch and sometimes enjoy a television show where the worst thing that can be said about a character is that she is having an affair. Well, scuse the fuck out of me, Chastity Chasterson. I’m sure you have NO skeletons with red cheesepowder fingerprints on them stacked up in your closet and thats great! Here, let’s toast your righteousness with this tall glass of shut the fuck up and then take a swig to wash down your celebratory meal of hot crunchy curls – you know those are killing you right? I went on a tear about this on my FB page last night, which I know you read, cuz we are already FB friends and you read every fucking inane and insane thought I have. (If you think I am great fun, you should REALLY become FB/Twitter/IG friends with my pal Myalogy – there is something really awesome about her! Look her up!) I am all the things a person is supposed to say to defend themselves against accusations of basicness. You know the rundown, I am educated, I got my own, blah blah THE FUCK blah. And although, I don’t kneel at the altar of Mary Jane nor Olivia, (I do kneel at the altar of Mara and Shonda – cuz they are the ones that we should aspire to be, right? LOOK! Sistas, running thangs!) I can enjoy that show, RHOA, Scandal, the Gorgeous Ladies of Wrestling, all that Tyler Perry bullshit and any other got dammed show I want without giving a fuck about your disdain, cuz at the end of the day every single thing….every single thing we do can be looked down upon and considered basic by someone else, except maybe Ofrey….and even I have something to say about a weave or two she rocked. That Kors bag you just copped wifey that you so busy smiling about walking down Michigan that you bout to crash into dude swaggering off of Oak fresh out the Hermes store with the Kelly is gonna make you a punch line over Oyster Leaf at Alinea later while you and Bae getting down with that spinach dip

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The Audacity of Audaciousness

zyansaeed615 / August 2, 2012

I’ve been thinking a lot about things I used to think differently about. If you are lucky, with age comes wisdom. I say lucky because there are ALOT of overgrown idiots out there. But I digress, the older and wiser I become, the more my outlook changes. Things I so steadfastly believed in, I’m looking at with different eyes, such as Niggas……and President Obama. My love for Niggas is growing, while my love for President Obama….well, I cant even bring myself to type it…..so I shan’t….for now. Now, I know you are shocked. You are aghast. You are mortified at my hypocrisy. You are thinking, “This fool just said last month, she hated Niggas…hell the other day, she just said it on Facebook.” Well, sirs and madams, you are correct. But with this week’s arrival of the never-before-seen-FLASH ROBBERY, I am now #teamnigga! Allow me to explain. For the longest time, I have never, EVER understood why Niggas tear up their own neighborhoods. WHY DOES LEAD TO: OR WHY DOES: PLUS LEAD TO AND Um, actually that last one, I understand…….moving on….. So imagine the confusion I experienced when I read about the aforementioned Flash Robbery here in the good ol’ Murderous Chi. If you are too lazy to click the link above or too trifling to keep abreast of whats happening around you here is the deets. Last weekend was Wicker Park Fest, which according to its website is (pay extra attention to the words in BOLD): “Whether you’re looking to discover progressive music, taste the cuisine of a unique variety of restaurants, shop an endless array of distinctive vendors’ merchandise or just want to spend time outside in the beautiful Chicago summer, Wicker Park can provide you the perfect opportunity at one of its many street festivals.“ Sounds like a good time huh? Music, Food, Families, Fun, Shopping…..what could go wrong? niggas. Wicker Park Fest PROVIDED a bunch of niggas the PERFECT OPPORTUNITY to do some five finger discount SHOPPING FOR A VENDORS DISTINCTIVE MERCHANDISE….Thats what. Audacious niggas and their Audicity. So this group of niggas walks in innocently enough, (although nothing about a group of niggas is ever innocent…sorry, its just not). They fan out into this denim store, Mildblend. They eventually start putting jeans everywhere they can…in their backpacks, in shopping bags, under their shirts, and even stuffed down into their overly big saggin ass jeans all niggas love to wear….’cept those of the Lil Tunechi ilk. Anyway, because they are niggas, the shop owner stated he knew the group’s intentions almost immediately, and locked the front door to prevent anyone else from entering. Well, for some reason, likely the world’s inherent fear and disdain of and for niggas, he let these assholes leave….and had to eat a $3000 loss. Instantly I was pissed. Asking myself all the questions I’ve been asking for years….all the five W’s, except the WHO, cuz we know who the who is. After sitting with it a while….I’m glad it happened……and here is why. When these things happen in Englewood, The Lawndales, Garfield Park, and Roseland (I threw that one in for the Westsiders!), there is no story to be told outside of the body count. But never one to be left out, niggas have found a way to stay a mutha fucking factor. They are no longer content to terrorize their own….they are taking it to the streets of Wicker Park, The Gold Coast and, horrors of horrors, the Mag Mile. This is a good thing. This ensures that the conversation turns from body count to containing niggas, (and isn’t that what we all want….for these niggas to be contained?) I for one would be glad to see the police round up all white tee/draws bearin/dreadheaded niggas – no questions asked – and drop them off at that empty prison downstate, which was built for them anyway. Please, niggas, continue to rob and harass good salt of the earth white folks and their pristine neighborhoods, so that we all just MAY get some peace. This leads me to, you, good ol #44, mi amore…..My, Yours, and Our, President Obama. In the beginning there was the lanky state senator, who dreamt of bigger thangs…..and he achieved them. #44 snitches! The first black president! He was audacious enough to talk about hope and change in America. He eats Harold’s AND Italian Fiesta on dat ass! The earth beamed at him, showered him with adoration, wept at his appearance like he was Michael Jackson on the Victory Tour (oh, that was just me huh?)….to cut to the point, we loved the shit out of dude. Talkin ill bout him was like talkin bout somebody’s mama, perhaps even worse. He was our precious lil baby, untouched and untainted by the awfulness of D.C….the likes of which we hadn’t seen before. *cue pearly gates music* But then like angels do, he began his descent to earth. The rumblings began….is he black enough? Why he do Reverend Wright (loves him!) like that? What has he done for black folks? Hell, what has he done period? I defended him vigorously. He aint the president of Black Folks….he’s the leader of the Free World, stidiots. He doesn’t owe your ass anything except to do his job in its totality to the best of his ability, was my response to all his critics. That all changed the day I came across this……. STOP THE FUCKING PRESS, SCUSE ME SIR? Yeah, why the hell not Chicago? 50 federal agents are being sent for a four month surge to Philadelphia to assist local law enforcement in combating violent and drug-related crimes across the Philadelphia metropolitan area. WELL POOR FUCKIN Philly. “Mya?” you query. “What does this have to do with President Obama? The Justice Department is ran by Attorney General Eric Holder,” you innocently state. WELL “WHO THE HELL RUNS ERIC HOLDER?” You know the

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You Wanted Myalogy….well here it is.

zyansaeed615 / July 2, 2012

For Jonathan, my dreamweaver I can’t definitively say that I know what this blog is gonna be about at any particular time. Perhaps if I had started it at any point in the past that I was supposed to, it could have been about any number of things….Kelz pissin on lil girls….Mike passing away…..The Wire Finale……Cutler going down and taking the Bears 2011 season with him, Jesus’ crucifixtion, but I’m lazy and may even admit to being a bit trifling. So here it is…on a day when I am happy that my brother has survived another evening , while Jesse Jr is not likely to survive the rest of his term, in the murderous Chi, with my first MYALOGY post. God help us All. So what do I want to rant and rave about today. Laz Parking? No. I have plenty of time to do that and will likely do it often. How men are pissing me off? HELLS TO THE NO. I offer this disclaimer….I wont be discussing men here….or at least I will try not to. It seems as if anytime more than 3 black women get together, male/female relationships OVERTAKE the conversation. Frankly that shit bores me….its always my cue to exit stage left. There is no overriding solution to the plague we are suffering through. No dialogue, no book, no movie produced by a formerly wig wearing man that will solve this issue. It will be solved mano-a–mano by two people in their own particular situation. So while I will continue to use my personal facebook to vent about my own relationships from time to rare time, you wont see it here. There will be no “Twelve Signs Your Man/Woman Aint Shit” or “How to Please Your Man” or “Why You’re Still Single”. If that is what you seek, seek elsewhere…cuz alot of us aint shit and aint never gonna be shit, some men just can’t be pleased and number of us will either die single or never have the strength to be single. Save yourselves, cuz Myalogy can’t do it. With all that nastiness out the way, and since nothing is particularly crawling up my ass today, I will just touch on topics that have been pissing me off OVERALL, in no particular order. 1. Laz Parking….for obvious reasons. Damn, just said I wasn’t gonna talk about them and then I did. D’oh. Fuck Laz Parking, as a staff, record label and muthafuckin crime organization. 2. Dude winning a championship. Yep, cuz I’m A CLASS ONE GRADE A HATER. (NO PICTURES WILL BE SHOWN CAPTURING THIS MOST AWFUL DEVELOPMENT) 3. The fact that I watch obviously less talented people do things Ive always wanted to do. Nah, scratch that, they inspire me. 4. The sex scenes on True Blood have all but disappeared. Jay told yall bout changing the game in the ninth inning. How does this: become this: NO THANK YOU. 5. My mortal enemy, the previously mentioned “formerly wig wearing man”, is getting his own daytime talkshow. Thereby affording me not one, not two, but three opportunities to experience him trying to enunciate through those big doggy teeth of his. YAY ME! 6. Any and most things on VH1. Shit all started with Flava Flav and we been paying for it ever since. Thanks Surreal Life….thanks alot. 7. Any and most things on BET. Did you really have to do that to The Game? Do you really have to show Lets Stay Together? Do you really not have a topical news show? Will you ever play a full promo for your own programs? *Now that I’ve worked in television sales, I know all about what you are doing….you should be ashamed. 8. That and are no longer here and they didn’t leave behind a huge body of work and I miss them terribly – EVERYDAY. 9. Grown people thinking I am gonna have an hour long text conversation with them. I AM NOT BOUT THAT LIFE (I know, I know, she’s on VH1, but, sorry the shit she says is catchy and she has brought fedora’s to the hood, sue me). Tell me ur on the way, don’t ask me what ever happened between us via text…..and dont even DREAM about apologizing via text. 10. The Supreme Court. No matter who installed you, The Constitution should lead you. Thats it…that’s all. 11. People still being mad about the President’s high melanin count. While Republicans are busy going about the business of making sure that he is a one-termer, we are all dying….slowly. I would like to say that I will write about this later at length, but its been written about ad nauseum. But then again, I will have four more years to write about it. #TEAMBARACKO He’s saying HI HATER. 12. That I have no idea why I should be following you on Instagram. Im still using a Blackberry. I barely know what Instagram is. 13. That so few people seem to have a good idea about how to take a self portrait with a cell phone. As stated in pissed off #12, I have a blackberry and I never come out looking like Joe Camel. No offense…you just look stupid, in ya ball gown hair done, nails done, everything did (or is it big? I can’t ever truly tell)…..in ya bathroom, holding up a phone to the mirror, whilst making the Zoolander puckerface (SHOUTS OUT TO YOU). NO MAAM. NO AND NO MA’AM. YES PLEASE! YES PLEASE AGAIN! (Shameless, I know) 14. That some people put the vulcan death grip on when shaking your hand. YOU ARE OVERCOMPENSATING, and it reveals your insecurity. If you feel my fingers bunching up in your hands, you are doing too much. 15. Overly religious people. I like people of faith, not religious people. 16. The fact that the 30s have robbed me of my ability

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