The musings of a madman...

1,162 Days

     I don’t forget shit… Let me rephrase that, I do forget a great many things, but I don’t forget things that matter a great deal to me.      In August, I told y’all about a job I had taken on helping a dude finally decide whether or not he should go through with marrying his girlfriend.  The work in said story was foiled by one of my mans named Marlon who basically, figuratively and literally fucked my money. [ Link , catch up and come back, you will need it if you do not remember]      Anyway, I am not as mad at Marl as I probably should be for how it went down because – as he so succinctly put it – her ass was absolutely stunning.  Besides, we been friends since middle school and I guess I should have known that he would probably fuck the girl first chance he got. Anyway…      Three weeks ago, Marlon calls me with a quandary… Marlon: “Phlip!” Me: “Whatup Marls?” Marlon: “Shit man…  You good?” Me: “All things considered, still mad about that check

1,163 Days

     …  and it couldn’t be happening to a better group of people. We’ve reached a juncture where Karma is showing up to the door and is fully prepared to collect her dues.  The motion picture industry has never been a friend of brown people and has actively sought to use its pull to keep brown people under its thumb.  Look no further than our Hotep Hollywood label for a running count of their fuckery.      I don’t think I need to chronicle every name that has been embroiled in a scandal surrounding things ranging from unwanted sexual advances through more egregious sexual harassment all the way up to and including – sometimes at the same time (!!!) – sexual assault and pedophilia.      Well the chickens are coming to roost.  You can’t do EVERYONE wrong all the time and expect that shit to just get swept under the rug.  Not terribly dissimilar to what has happened to the most of professional sports wherein brown people are seeing themselves better represented in respo

1,164 Days

     Tupac quotes notwithstanding, this recipe came from a straight-up “damn, I miss […]” place. Substituting vegetable items in the place of starches like rice and potatoes is all cool and all until you make something very nearly DEMANDING that item.      Enter: riced cauliflower.  You can make it yourself with a fresh cauliflower and a coarse grater or you can buy it at your local grocer frozen for a premium on convenience.  If you have an Aldi where you live, which pretty much most of us do these days, BUY IT THERE for half the price of the big stores.  No, it is not rice, but it fills the spot like we needed it to.      Enough of the introductions, let’s get down to fooding. For this otherwise pretty easy dish, you will need: 1 cup each, onion/pepper mix and mushrooms (it's under there, trust me) 1 bag riced cauliflower 1 bag, frozen spinach 1 small package of boneless skinless chicken, diced and cooked 1 bag, cheese of your choosing OH, and... 1 cup, he

1,165 Days

                Have you ever considered that shopping doesn’t HAVE to cost you the farm? There are many means and methods through which to pay yourself back for spending money you were going to spend anyway.                 If you’re like me, you’re mildly antisocial and have no interest in setting foot in a mall, toy store or Wal Mart during the holiday rush and will instead do the lion’s share of your shopping from the comfort of your own home.  The beauty of not having to know anything about crowd control or deal with the intricacies of actually putting on clothes being one thing, the other is that there are tools in place to make this even MORE lucrative for you.                 As eBay is no longer the spot for soccer moms to clean out their attics and cash in on people willing to pay top dollar for obscure goods, retailers have come to use it as a marketplace not terribly dissimilar to Amazon.  eBay has a rewards program called “eBay Bucks” where they keep a run

1,166 Days

(I'm the one in the diaper with the beard) When he worked third shift, he would get home from work right about the time we’d be waking up.  We were often in the house – even outside of the few months we lived there – so we were there when he came in on Saturday morning.  We’d wake up and take us to this tiny greasy-spoon diner around the corner.  They always knew what he wanted before he asked. The place closed sometime before I was old enough to take HIM to breakfast there.  I hate I never had the chance. It is a fish place now, but I still have warm flashbacks every time I am in the building. Often in my school years, especially in 4 th and 5 th grades, we would be in class about to go to lunch.  “Phillip, your granddad is here.”  He would sit and eat with us and our friends and generally be the coolest old man in the building.  Furthermore, he would bring us all happy meals.  Never once do I recall TELLING him how many people I normally sat with at lunch, I am guess