ME.
WE.
— Muhammad Ali
Harvard University, 1975
Widely regarded as the shortest poem in the English language
Latest
AD LIB RHAPSODY, or An Ode to the Present State of Radio-Friendly Hip Hop in the Central Part of North America, Part 2
AD LIB RHAPSODY
by OhSnapKracklePopPopPop
Produced by DJ Pickle Juice
[VERSE 1: HOT POCKET JACQUES]
Skrrrrrr! Skrrrr! Hold up! Bo!
Blaow! Blaow! Ooo wop! Yo!
Pow! Hey! Skrrrrtt! Bang! Go!
Rich! Kaka! Fo’ chains! Fa sho!
Rrrbbit! Moo! Cluck! Buck! Buck!
Shabba! Ranks! Tom! Hanks! Pop!
Crunk! Crack! Crank! Crock! Clock!
Trunk! Rack! Stank! Glock! Rock!
Huh? What? Bruh! Yugh! Aaaay!
Yeah! Naw! Chop! Fri! Daaay!
Hot! Dogs! Ham! Collard! Greens!
Guac! Cheese! Butter! Beans!
Click Clack! Woop Woop! Hiccup!
Pitty Pat! Kitty Kat! Stick-up!
Jabba! Mamba! Mamma! Swag!
Yabba! Dabba! Samba! Facts!
[VERSE 2: BOB]
Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaa
aaaaaaaaaaappppppppppppppppp!!!
[VERSE 3: PANINI PO’BOY & SOX CHICKEN POX]
Rich Boy! Po’ Boy! Rich Boy! Po’ Boy!
Rich Boy! Po’ Boy! Rich Boy! Po’ Boy!
Manly! Manly! Manly! Manly!
Gucci! Gucci! Gucci! Gucci!
Stanley! Stanley! Stanley! Stanley!
Tucci! Tucci! Tucci! Tucci!
We got the play so you fold!
We got to stay in top mode!
We got the way and the goal!
we got the weight and the gold!
We broke the clay and the mold!
We do not claim that we know!
We just get paid and then go!
We say do re me fa so la ti do!
Da da da da da da dodo!
Blah kup! Blah kup! Blah kup! Blah kup!
Ho! Whoa! Whoa! Ho! Hobo! JoJo!
Wobble wobble wobble wobble wobble!
Wobble wobble wobble wobble wobble!
The Illeist
When people say, “What the actual fuck?” What the fuck are they actually saying?
An illeist is someone who refers to themselves in third person singular, meaning they’re talking about themselves as if they’re someone else. DeLane just learned a new word.
Actual quote from work: “We can have a pre-planning planning meeting before we go into the planning meeting.”
Actual quote from work: “I recognize strangers a lot.”
This coffee shop has no public restroom. Just one for employees only. So should I fill out an application to get hired so that I can take a piss? And after I relieve myself, can they relieve me of this job?
So there’s Fig Fest, Firefly Music Fest, Tailgate Fest, FYF Fest, Stagecoach Fest, Playboy Jazz Fest, New Orleans Jazz Fest, Austin City Limits Music Fest, Pitchfork Music Fest, Glastonbury Fest, Essence Fest, Isle of Wight Fest, Riot Fest, iHeartRadio Fest, MoPop Fest, Floydfest, Ohana Fest, FreshGrass Fest, LouFest, Hopscotch Fest, and hundreds of other fests. I’m going to start one called Bitch Fest, where I just grab a mic, sit on a stool, and complain about the number of festivals for 72 hours straight.
Texting while driving will get you a fine, but the cop I just saw driving his squad car while typing on his computer’s full-sized keyboard, I guess, is fine.
Diagonal crosswalks . . . because humans are too lazy to walk in right angles.
The latest installment of Jurassic World comes out next month. This will be the fifth one in the Watching Jurassic Park franchise, and the original movie debuted in 1993, 25 years ago. The audience can practically get Medicaid and senior citizen discounts at Sizzler. The dinosaurs should watch us onscreen in a movie called Jurassic Classics. Or Dinosores. We is old.
#GoFu<kYourSelfie
sheep,
while you were taking pictures of your food
while you were posting your current mood
while you were liking your BFF’s pics
while you were following the latest tweets
while you were checking the # of your followers
while you were glued to your phone’s screen
while you were engrossed in gossip and “fake news”
being wired and connected actually made you disconnected
you were in a coma when you thought you were “woke af”
while you were hashtagging everything, you weren’t paying attention
you missed it, you fell behind
a willful participant in your own cluelessness, foolishness
the powers that be be that power
that invisible hand that pulls the strings of your life,
we’re all puppets, but you love it
while you were 99% distracted,
the 1% enacted and impacted
your life, right in plain sight
behind your back, smoke and mirrors,
3-card monte with your rights and liberties,
abracadabra, their hocus pocus made you lose focus
and you let them do it
but you don’t care
you’re too busy starbucksin’ & star fuckin’,
yoga classin’ & intermittent fastin’,
catfishin’, ghostin’ & avocado toastin’
it’s loud and clear
you don’t care
so make sure you frame it right
wait, get that out the shot
ready? good.
you look perfect
say cheese, sheep
go fuck your selfie
Bus Adventures, Episode 116
I’m waiting for the La Brea bus. There’s a woman—tan skin, reddish/pinkish hair that’s pulled back, orange t-shirt, gray capri pants, lime green socks, and sandals—already at the bus stop. She is yelling about Eddie Murphy dancing and some other indecipherable stuff into thin air. Obviously, she’s not in her right mind. She’s out of it.
After she stops screaming, she turns her frustration and attention to La Brea. She grabs her plastic grocery bag full of what looks like socks and garments, and then begins to dart in and out of oncoming traffic, knocking on the windows of only black sedans and SUVs, asking the drivers if they’re Uber cars. It’s pretty scary. It gets so bad that after one driver waves her off, she opens the passenger side door as he’s pulling away at a green light. He manages to lean over and close the door, but only after I see the pure shock and WTFness on this dude’s face.
Our bus finally pulls up. I get on first, trying to give the bus driver fair warning of the impending adventure that she will soon experience. I try to motion with my eyes that Trouble with a capital T is about to board this vessel like a rowdy band of syphilis-infested, scurvy-infected, sex-starved pirates. However, I don’t think that my signal registered, for I’m sure she thought that I was making a totally unsuccessful pass at her. I tried.
The out-of-control lady began the journey by asking if anyone had change for a dollar. When no one had change, she gave every single one of us the evil eye. I stared out of the window. I don’t play around and make eye contact with “those who shall not be named.” So Medusa gets all up in our shit and starts hollering at us. Then, she immediately starts screaming at the window. Just behind her is a woman who’s tending to her baby in a stroller. The incessant noise and aggressiveness coming from Medusa is making a lot of folks uneasy. Like 9-11/Flight 103-passenger uneasy. Suddenly, the mother stands up and blurts out, “Shut the fuck up, you crazy bitch! I got my goddamn baby here. Won’t you shut up with your crackhead ass!” Medusa ain’t taking this lying down. She gets up in the mother’s face, and they engage in a verbal profanity-laced tennis match. It’s both repulsive and enthralling. I’m expecting them to both to throw one another off the moving bus. Eventually, cooler heads prevail, and they both subside their fury.
Seconds later, the mother pulls out her phone and calls up her friend. Putting her friend on speakerphone, the mother complains about Medusa out loud for all the world to hear, inches away from Medusa herself. Here’s an excerpt from the conversation:
MOTHER: I can’t believe this bitch! She don’t know. I am not the one!
FRIEND: Where are you now?
M: On the bus.
F: She still there?
M: Yeah, that bitch still here. She crazy as fuck. She on crack or whatever she on. she lucky I got my baby right here. If I didn’t have my baby right here, I’d slap the shit out of that bitch.
F: You need me to meet you up there? I will fuck her up!
After that spirited exchange, the mother calls her own mother to vent in the same fashion. Yep. Here it is:
MOTHER: Ma, pleeeease pray for me. Oh my God! Please pray for me. Pray that I don’t beat the shit outta this ho’.
MOTHER’S MOTHER: Don’t do anything stupid. Tell the bus driver.
M: They don’t care, Ma! They drive, that’s all.
MM: You better not be fighting up there. Who gonna take care of your baby if you get locked up?
M: Ma! I know! But I need you to pray for me. I swear to God! If she look at me again, I’m gonna…Oh my God! Oh my God…
At this juncture, the bus lands at my stop. I get off the bus. I do my customary wave and morning salutations to the four Jehovah Witnesses who frequent the train station. I dodge a flock of ambitious pigeons trying to cut me off from the staircase, and climb up to the train platform.
devolution: [mean monkeys]
The invention of the wheel, agriculture, and paper
Pulling electricity from lightning, erecting skyscrapers
Telephones, microphones, sonar, radar, printing press
Banking systems, currency, motor vehicles, steady progress
Aerospace, solar power, high-speed internet, wi-fi
Pasteurization, irrigation, making science from sci-fi
Language, art, philosophy, music and graphics
Medicine, religion, conservation, mathematics
Miracle after miracle, humans adapt, create, and persist
But what does it all mean if we can’t coexist?
We think we’re better than animals; we assume and suppose.
We’re nothing more than mean monkeys with enough shame to wear clothes
We put each other in chains, camps of concentration and internment
Attack the weak and disenfranchised, without any discernment
Where there’s politically and state-sponsored genocide of thousands of lives
Where 20 kids get killed and Congress doesn’t blink an eye
Soon it’ll register that you ain’t better than an apex predator
That ate its competitor, you just have a better editor
Writing history to elevate and separate us from the lesser, lionizing aggressors
Short memory is a luxurious privilege of the oppressor
So while tub-thumpers debate the tenets of religion and evolution,
The truly concerned will focus on our humanity, looking for solutions
Can’t really claim to be enlightened when we still remain primal
Can’t really progress collectively if our thinking is still tribal
Can’t really eliminate our rivals and say it’s all about survival
And wait for freedom’s arrival when our actions prove suicidal
Darwin had it wrong
Survival of the fittest masks survival of the witless
So until we figure it out
We’ll remain a planet full of fatalistic junkies
I seriously doubt
We’ll ever be more than a zoo full of mean monkeys
N.A.B.
You go to the restroom. You head to the urinal or toilet. You unzip your pants. You do your business. You go to the sink and wash your hands. See, this is where humanity can either soar to esteemed heights and skim the ceiling of godliness or crash into the nadir of neglect and nastiness. You had a choice. So what did you do? You just walked past the sink and right out the door. And here is the point where you should be skinned alive. Bruh, you just touched your genitals. Them shits ain’t as clean as you think. Now you’re going to go have coffee, shake hands, touch your face, touch someone else’s face, grab handles, cook, and anything else, contaminating everything that is and isn’t nailed down. Wash your fucking hands, man! You too, ladies! Being a nasty-ass bitch is not exclusive to any gender. Don’t be a NAB, a nasty-ass bitch.
Kids get too many choices these days. Just heard this woman say that she has to prepare multiple meals for her kids because one is a vegetarian, one can’t eat gluten, etc. Growing up, my friends and I didn’t have that option. We had to eat whatever our moms made. We had one option, and that option was meat.
Citizens of the island country of Lesbos are called lesbians. Yup.
When I was a kid, I used to check the change slots in vending machines for spare change. I did this for years. Up until the day I happened to stick my fingers in a change slot filled with bum piss. Ironically, it was a Mello Yello vending machine.
Recently, I saw for the first time a guy panhandling in the airport. I’m used to seeing this at bus and train stations. Not airports. He’s going to have to really hustle to get enough to buy one of these expensive airline tickets. Then again, he’s probably just trying to raise enough for his baggage fees or those $9 meals at McDonald’s.
There are some clocks that are 30 minutes ahead. How does this happen? What daylight savings time are they following?
Having an emotional support hamster, peacock, or any other animal is bullshit.
The survivors of the Vegas shooting can have emotional support animals. Not someone who feels a little “icky” or “super stressed, bro.” These airheads are taking advantage of the system. If you bring your emotional support pet and you don’t have a seriously legit reason, then I, and anyone else who feels the same way I do, should bring your pet’s natural predator on the plane so that it can eat you amd your pet.
You open a bag of corn chips or any fish dish on a plane. You’re holding us all hostage. You’re the real terrorist.
With that said, sky marshals should be prioritizing taking out these odor terrorists.
Why is it so hard to get the automatic sinks and auto paper towel dispensers to work? I swear. Whenever I find a sink that can finally detect my hands swinging back and forth in front of the sensor, the paper towel dispenser won’t notice me practically doing jumping jacks. If the sink works, then the paper towel dispenser won’t. If the sink sensor is playing hard to get, then the paper towels will flow freely. Most of the time, I just end up air-drying my hands by holding them out and busting spins like Julie Andrews did in the Alps in The Sound of Music. Hmm…it would be easier to just NAB it up and not wash my hands.
ten paces at dawn
Today
I will live
One last time
I tell myself
As I clutch the revolver
I try to hide my fear
No one will suspect
I loved them
I wish I would have been
Better at this
Don’t understand
Those around me
Because
Memories fade
Eyes struggle to open
Before
My heartbeat slows
Light
Into
Darkness
My eyes
Close
My eyes
Darkness
Into
Light
My heartbeat slows
Before
Eyes struggle to open
Memories fade
Because
Those around me
Don’t understand
Better at this
I wish I would have been
I loved them
No one will suspect
I try to hide my fear
As I clutch the revolver
I tell myself
One last time
I will live
Today
White Rhino
41167 05221
12044 04035
11111 17266
37000 86423
12044 01643
10158 08409
Cult
You make me
Obsessed with you.
It’s not my fault.
I can’t stop seeing you
Feels like a crown of thorns
Inside my head
Painful thoughts
Bringing me to my knees
I’ll worship you while I’m down here
Killing two birds with 100 stones
You win again
Outmatched, outmaneuvered
I’m enthralled by your ability
To destroy me
And all that I hold dear
Caught in headlights like deers
I have no other option but to
Submit
I will soon come to relish this pain
When hurt becomes joy
But that’s how I know you care
I can never leave this
Encampment
It’s all I know now
Tell me what to say.
Tell me what to see.
Tell me what to believe.
My demons and angels are one in the same
I love this hurt.
Someone
Save me.
Think Ink|Thinq Inq 