A Lame Apology, Details on an Upcoming Gig and Random Ramblings About Love and Boo Boo

Okay:

So it's been weeks and I distinctly remember telling you all that I would do my best to write weekly. I have failed you, and for this, I am truly sorry. But if you're over it, then I'm over it, and we can move on.

There. We've had our moment.

In business news, I have an upcoming gig (Thursday December 18) at the legendary Bohemian Caverns where jazz greats like Miles Davis and Ornette Coleman once rocked the house. I'll be backed by none other than Sound of the City with some help from Bilal Salaam. It promises to be a pleasant affair. You should put on some soft bottom shoes and bring a friend.



$5 cover. Doors open at 8. 21 & over. I'll be hitting the stage around 9:30ish.

In personal news, I am still happily involved and things couldn't be better. I was reading over some of my past blogs recently and marveling at how deeply jaded I was about the whole relationship thing. I must have been really going through something. I remember friends of mine commenting, "Once you meet the right girl, all of that will change. She'll have your nose wide open."

And I distinctly remember being like, "Go fuck yourself."

And I remember them smiling and being like, "I can't wait to see your pussy whooped ass eat your words."

And I remember thinking that was an especially cruel comment.

Well.

I wouldn't go as far as to call myself pussy whooped. I'm still the same cat basically. But I do have a new and more positive perspective on things. And I've lost most of the compulsion to seek and conquer pussy for numbers' sake. That's not to say I've gone blind. I still see and appreciate other ass. But it's different now.

A metaphor:

When I was a teenager and didn't have a car, I was envious of anyone with a car. Whether it be a Mercedes or a Sentra. All I knew was I was walking and it sucked. Now, I have a car that runs well and is relatively new. I see other cars. Some are nicer than mine. Some are newer than mine. But they're not mine. I know my car. And I've made a lot of payments and I'm not about to walk away from the investment, and it runs well. I like my car. And seeing other cars doesn't make me envious or make me want to take my checkbook down to the dealership for a trade in. I'm good.

I go, "Oooh. Nice car." And then I keep driving.

The other day I took a shit while she was in my apartment. I think that's a big step, man. Women always seem to be looking for tokens of commitment like presents, or keys to the apartment, or promise rings or whatever. But a gesture like shitting while you're sitting in the next room speaks volumes as far as I'm concerned.

My faithful readers know how I am about the sacred act. I believe it is a private time to reflect and be alone with yourself. If I'm comfortable enough around you to take a shit, that means we've got something real.

Of course, she's yet to bless my commode with her fecal matter, but she's a girl. All things in due time.

I mean really though. How well can you say you know someone if you don't know what their shit smells like? I mean, really.

When you're taking a deuce, you're in your most vulnerable, most human state. It is the common thread that connects us all. I don't care who you are. A dignitary, a ballerina or a fucking nun. Once a day, you have to squat and drop a few stones. And if you're eating well, it's not gonna smell like strawberries.

Apparently it should float, have a good strong brown coloring and a firm consistency.

Fucking Barack Obama shits.

And so does Halle Berry. And so does the Pope.


Well, I suppose that's enough for now. I hope to see you all at the show. Tell a friend.


Thanks for reading.

Election Night, Post-Victory Questions, 'Tata Salad and Updates On My Love Life

Okay:

"Well, what do you know? Barack Hussein Obama. The nigga pulled it off." So said my father when he called me a little after midnight on Wednesday morning.

"Poor Jesse," he continued. "Nigga can't catch a break."

Of course, he was referring to Jesse "The Castrator" Jackson, who was weeping genuine-ish tears amidst a sea of miscellaneous white faces in Chicago during Barack's sober victory speech. Oprah, who was surprisingly well-composed, wasn't giving up nearly as dramatic a performance, even though she has a penchant for such displays. By far, the most disturbing image of the night.


But I digress. President-Elect Obama won the election by what the pundits are calling a "decisive margin". I haven't heard the word "landslide" used. And it makes me wonder what exactly constitutes a landslide. Because in my admittedly under informed eyes, it looks like McCain got his ass whooped.



I'm not trying to rub it in. I'm just saying.

Of course, being a single parent and all, I didn't get to go out to an election party or anything. It was a school night. She was tucked away in her bed, and I was struggling to stay awake in my computer chair. And, as you may have already ascertained, I was surfing for porn while watching the results. First Kentucky for McCain. Then Vermont for Obama. Then I found a great Lacey Duvalle scene, post butt-implants.

Pretty typical night.

I imagine Barack got laid that night. Michelle looks like she would consider it a forgone conclusion. There would be no coaxing necessary. And she, as we all know, has no need for implants.

Her dress was horrendous. I think they dress her poorly on purpose to distract from all that ass.

I should stop. I'm talking about the next First Lady or the First Lady-Elect or whatever. If I was President, my wife would be The First Main Bitch.


Well, I've been pulling and rooting for my man Barack for the past 2 years, and now my job is done. All I can think is, He better not fuck up. I wonder what his first taste of scandal or crisis will look like. Will he misspeak at a press conference? Will he botch a military operation? Will they find his outside kids?

Where is Hillary?



So, while I was watching the results and downloading porn I came to the slow realization that Obama was winning. Then, around 11:00pm, MSNBC declared Barack Obama the projected winner. Immediately, my phone began buzzing with text messages.

"We did it."

"Go Obama."

"Cherish this day."

"History has been made."

"Breakout the fried chicken, watermelon, hot sauce and tata salad. He won!"

And, "Make sure you have plenty of water cuz there are gonna be a lot of salty crackers at work tomorrow."

Then, as many of you already know, I heard something I hoped I wouldn't hear.

You guessed it.

Gunshots.

But you know what? If I was drunk and had a gun, I'd have probably bust off a few rounds myself. So they get a pass for the night.


Did you know Sarah Palin gets to go back to being governor of Alaska? If I were an Alaskan I wouldn't want her sorry ass anymore. You take 3 months off from work to interview for another job, and when you don't get it you just come back to the office like nothing happened. Who was running the state while she was off campaigning and buying $150,000 worth of St. John business suits? The First Dude?

John McCain also gets to go back to being the senior Arizona senator. I predict he'll be dead before 2012. Not trying to be morbid or anything. I'm just saying.

To be fair, if they had lost, Obama and Biden, who were up for reelection actually, could have gone back to their senate seats. They both won their races by a "decisive margin".

And speaking of Alaska being stupid, did you know that as of now, convicted felon Senator Ted Stevens is projected to win his seat?



There is a reason George Washington and the forefathers put Alaska way the fuck up there in Canada. Them motherfuckers is crazy.



On a personal note, I am dating someone. I've mentioned her a few times in previous blogs. She was referred to simply as "My Crush". Anyway, things are pretty serious and I couldn't be happier.

There are no other women.

We go out every weekend. We talk on the phone for hours. We text each other while we're at work. This weekend I fed her chocolate covered strawberries and oranges while we watched a Sanaa Lathan movie.

For the record, I hate Sanaa Lathan movies. And I hate chocolate.

This weekend, she's taking me to church.

It's all painfully gay, but I'm really enjoying it.

Really enjoying it.


I just hope she doesn't turn out to be some sort of piss freak or try to stick her finger up my ass or something. That would suck...majorly.

And here is the "Government Game" video again because it seems so appropriate now.

Enjoy...

Thanks for reading.

GOBAMA!!!

Remembering Marky Mark, Details on the Upcoming Dirty Water Show and Some Random Videos

Okay:

It was an eventful weekend. I went to see Max Payne with a "friend" who is coo-coo for cocoa puffs over Mark Wahlberg. Of course, she's old enough to remember those Calvin Klein ads, but has somehow blocked out what I consider the highlight of his career, a smart and cleaver treatise on the economy called "I Need Money".

Is there a cooler white boy in Hollywood? *read sarcasm*

In all fairness, it took a while for me to come around but I now prefer boxer briefs. Even though I don't really have the legs for it. When I wake up in the morning they're all baggy, like really soft boxers. Not a good look. But when I put em on first thing in the morning...well. If I weren't so shy, I'd post a picture.

For the record, Max Payne, while it apparently was the number one box office draw over the weekend, was without a doubt the worst movie I have seen this year. It was ridiculously lame. Visually stunning, although a big Sin City rip-off. But more disturbing than the mind-numbingly asinine and hard-to-follow plot was the acting. It was as if the actors in a passive aggressive attempt at vindictiveness for being duped into this, decided to telephone in every last line. It was like watching a full-dress table reading.

Even Wahlberg, who I believe has some serious chops, was hard to watch.

It's the Oscar curse though. Remember, after Halle Berry won she made like 5 shitty movies in a row? Including Catwoman. Look at Deniro and Pacino. When was the last time one of them made a good movie?

Wahlberg was also bad in The Happening, which previously held my title for worst film of the year. Both are guaranteed to be at The Raspberries. That's almost four hours of my life that I'll never get back thanks to Marky Mark.


In happier news, Joe and I (Dirty Water) will be returning to The Black Cat this weekend (Sunday October 26)to open for Little Brother. http://blackcatdc.com/schedule.html

We've got rehearsal this week and...well, I don't want to give anything away...but we're going to fuck it up.

Here's a clip of us at The Black Cat earlier this summer opening for The Cool Kids...

In Ignorance & Confidence news, things are going well and I've been getting great responses on the "Government Game" video. This weekend I plan to unveil my newest single, the hard-hitting District anthem "DC Izza Motha@#$%!". Be at the show to pick up a copy.

Here's the "Government Game" video again, in case you missed it...

And here's something I ran across that made me laugh my ass off. Warning, ladies. This is extremely misogynistic and piggish. But if you're not too uptight, give it a chance. DO NOT WATCH AT WORK.

Thanks for reading.


GOBAMA!

The Prodigal Son Returneth and Haveth Much Shit To Sayeth

Okay:

First things first. Yes, I did fall off the face of the earth. Literally. I went for a walk one day, and dammit if I didn't fall right off the motherfucker. I guess my father was right.

"Claude," he said. "The earth is round, but flat like a quarter. They want you to believe that we're walking around on a ball. But if we're walking around on a ball, how come stuff isn't rolling all over the damn place? Doesn't make sense, does it?"

In all seriousness, the truth is I had to re prioritize some things. Long story short, I wasn't spending enough time with my kid. It's hard to justify spending upwards of two hours sitting in front of a computer every day, especially when engaged in something as self-indulgent as blogging, and even more especially when it's not making you any money. How can you justify not spending that time with your child instead?

You can't. I tried.

The little fuckers come first, man.

Then there was the issue of my Internet service being disconnected. And a bill to the cocksuckers at RCN that clearly could not be paid off unless I started putting myself out to stud for mannish lesbians who want the bun without the baker.

Then something miraculous happened. I turned on my computer one day, and I was reconnected. It's like Jesus came down and used his Christ magic to get me web access. Like he did with the wine and the fish, except this is a really impressive and decidedly useful miracle.

I suppose updates are in order.

My daughter is fine. We're spending a whole lot more time together. A few days ago I noticed that her front tooth was hanging, literally, by a thread of pink flesh. I should tell you that one of my phobias is losing my teeth. I have an unreasonable amount of anxiety about falling and getting a tooth knocked loose. Loose teeth, as a result, are unbearably gross to me. Of course, my daughter is fascinated by them. She pushes them back and forth with the tip of her tongue.

"Look, daddy," she says.

"No thanks," I say. "I'm sure it's looser than hell."

But this one was so loose I felt compelled to call my mother. "Ma," I said. "This thing shoulda fell out a long time ago. Why is it taking so long?"

"Claude," she said soberly. "You're gonna have to pull it out."

"No fucking way," I said.

"You're her father. Who else is going to do it?"

"I'm willing to outsource."

My mother agreed to do the deed, but shame eventually got the better of me and I decided I would do it myself. It is not to be underestimated how absolutely horrified I was. I would have preferred to stick my finger in that hole in the sink that stops it from flooding. Which is quite gross by the way. But it's got nothing on loose teeth.

"Sweetie," I said. "I have to pull that tooth."

She cried and ran and pleaded, so I told her that I wouldn't pull it out. I just wanted to see how loose it was. Then I got my hand in there and yanked the thing out.

Well.

Blood gushed everywhere, and a little piece of pink flesh was dangling where her tooth used to be. She screamed, "You lied to me! Why did you lie, Daddy?"

I ran out of the room for fear that I might vomit. Then I got myself together and made her a glass of warm salt water. "Gargle with this," I said.

When she looked at me I saw the little piece of pink flesh again. "What the fuck is that?" I thought. "Should that be there? Did I fuck her mouth up?"

I called my mother. "Ma," I said. "What the fuck is this pink shit dangling from her gum? I think I may have fucked her mouth up."

She assured me it would go away eventually. And it did.

Until it did, I avoided looking at her face directly. That shit was way gross.

Well, that's it for now. I won't be blogging daily anymore. But I will do my best to write at least once a week.

I leave you with the new video for my new single "Government Game". Enjoy.

Thanks for reading.


GOBAMA!

A Night at the Kennedy Center with White People Watching Black People Do Black Stuff

Okay:

So, it’s getting more and more difficult to keep blogging daily what with my Internet still being down. Joe says I should get a wireless card and see if I can pick up a signal in the building. Seems like a good and cheap idea, especially seeing as how I won’t have the money to pay Ragged Cunt Naps (RCN) for quite some time.

This weekend was eventful. The little girl and I kept a tight schedule. The highlight, I guess, was a trip to the Kennedy Center Saturday evening. They had this big event going called Arts Across America. Different performers from all over the country came to the Nation’s Capital for a one day festival. According to the brochure, there were almost three dozen performances taking place throughout the day on different stages, indoor and outdoor.

I went with my daughter and her Brownie troop to see Step Afrika! It’s a traveling showcase of step crews from various black frats and sororities. For my non-black and culturally deprived readers, stepping is a tradition on the campuses of historically black colleges and universities. It’s an African-inspired dance characterized by foot-stomping, hand-clapping and highly sophisticated synchronized routines. It’s a lot of fun to watch if the steppers are good. But they’re not always good.

Anyway, we had to stand on line for a half-hour. So, one of parents said, “Let’s have lunch then.”

I was thinking, Great. Is there an eatery somewhere? But when I finished looking around I saw that everyone in our group was reaching into their bags and pulling out sandwiches, bottled water, raw baby carrots, and fruit. I didn’t even realize they had bags!

I felt my daughter tugging at my shirt. I looked down at her and she was staring up at me with her eyes welling up. “Daddy,” she said, her voice quivering in anger, “Why didn’t you pack me a snack?”

I felt like shit on a stick.

The other parents saw my crisis and started offering up food.

“She can have half of Sara’s sandwich.”

“We’ve got an extra bag of carrots.”

“Thanks,” I said. Then I ran off to find her something to drink. It took about 15 minutes, and it cost me $3, but I came back with a small bottle of cranberry juice.
She only had a few sips before the line started moving and it was time to go in. And, of course, before we could enter the theatre, I had to throw away the juice.

When we took our seats, she was welling up again, “Daddy, why did you throw away the juice?”

“You can’t have juice in the theatre, honey. Only water.”

“Well, why didn’t you get me water like everybody else?”

I looked around and it was true. Every other little girl in our group had her own personal bottle of water. So what did I say? The only thing I could say.
“Sit down and stop complaining before I take you home. I don’t know why you’re crying. That juice cost me $3!”

Being an ornery bastard has its advantages.

She got over it, and soon it was time for the show.

For the most part, with the exception of the professional steppers who bookended the show, I was not impressed. I don’t want to call out any specific organizations―-elephants, frogs, cats, dogs, apes or whatever-―but lots of things have changed about stepping, and apparently not for the better.

Call me a snob, but when I went to college, people put work into their step routines, and they certainly wouldn’t go to the Kennedy Center with anything less than stellar. I caught myself yawning a few times.

Until, that is, one of the young ladies―who were not dressed in pink, green, or blue―busted her ass...hard. I mean, that shit looked like it hurt. To her credit, she got up and back into the routine so fast, I thought everyone else was going to do the same thing. I had to lean over to one of the other parents and ask, “Did she just bust her ass?”

“I’m not sure,” she said. “But it sure looked like it.”

The high school team, however―The Coppin Academy Centaurs of Baltimore, Maryland―, was far more exciting than any of the college teams. They even broke down in the middle of the routine for a tribute to the Jheri Curl. It was great. Jheri Curls are always funny.

The true was humor was in the seats though. There were white people peppered―or salted, I guess, in this situation―throughout the crowd. They were highly concentrated in our row though. Our group of 20 was about 60% Caucasian. And what didn’t occur to me until we took our seats is white people, for the most part, have no idea what stepping is. It really is, like, one of our last secrets.

Stepping, pirated cable and sugar water.

The only other man in our group, who bore a strong resemblance to the older brother, Kent, from Napoleon Dynamite, looked confused the entire time. Especially when people started doing their calls.

“Yo-Yo!” and “Skee-Wee” and “Oo-oop!” and, of course, the constant barking.

It made me miss my college days something terrible. But when I looked over at this dude he was shaking his head and squinting his eyes as if to say, “What the shit is going on here? Are they gonna, like, try to get us or something?”

At some point he leaned over to one of the little black girls, who was seven-years-old by the way, and whispered, “What’s all this meowing about?”

I would’ve been offended if I wasn’t laughing so hard.

Right after the step show, Chuck Brown was doing a concert on the south lawn, but it was late and I had to get the little girl home. Maybe next year, if they do it again, I’ll plan a whole day around it.

And I’ll try to remember to pack a healthy lunch and some water.


And the album link…

CLICK TO DOWNLOAD THE NEW COOL CEE BROWN ALBUM "IGNORANCE & CONFIDENCE"

Thanks for reading.


GOBAMA/BIDEN!


Innocent Question: What exactly do white frats and sororities do?

Reading Perez Hilton Over Someone's Shoulder and Finding Myself Reluctantly Entertained, Plus Video Footage

Okay:

So, there are apparently a lot of people out there who are fascinated by celebrity gossip. So much so that a gossip can become a celebrity. Case in point: Perez Hilton.

He's famous for being a good gossip.

See, that's how popular gossip is. If you're good at it, you can become famous. Long gone are the days of faceless, nameless paparazzi.

I don't actually visit his site myself, but occasionally, while I'm in the computer lab at work, I may catch a coworker reading up on the latest. I may catch a glimpse over their shoulder.

To be honest, I'm typically fascinated by what I read.

For example, Kanye West was arrested at an LA airport for assaulting a photographer. Better still, the entire thing was recorded.

I like the part where he says, "I took it."

Then the camera guy goes, "Help me...Police."

Then Kanye goes, "Ain't no police. Get on somewhere."

I just giggle at the thought of someone having to call the police on Kanye West. He's right up there with Will Smith and Ruben Studdard on the famous non-threatening black men's list.

Even better still is Matt Damon's stinging rant against Palin. He called her candidacy a "really bad Disney movie" among other things.

Jason Bourne is "wicked smaa't".

I like it when white people get indignant. Most of the time it's funny. But here, you get the feeling he wants to kick some ass.

And he could. Jason Bourne is a mad motherfucker.

I like it when he says, "If you look at the actuaries, McCain probably won't make it through his first term."

That's so cold!

True, but cold nonetheless.

Well, that's all I have for today. Here's the album link again...

CLICK TO DOWNLOAD THE NEW COOL CEE BROWN ALBUM "IGNORANCE & CONFIDENCE"

Thanks for reading.


GOBAMA/BIDEN!


Innocent Question: Who exactly is this hooded male with Kanye and why are they so adverse to having their pictures taken? I mean, Kanye is the biggest attention whore I've ever seen. What's the deal here? Hmm?

Passive Aggressive Avoidance of Necessary Therapy, A Laundry List of Mental Health Concerns and Window Shopping at Banana Republic

Okay:

So, I found myself wandering down Wisconsin Avenue tonight. Friendship Heights.

For you non-Washingtonians, Friendship Heights is a high-rent district in upper Northwest. They’ve got a Barney’s. Lots of white people and wealthy-looking foreigners walking about, shopping and what have you.

Why was I there?

To be honest, I was going for an appointment with a therapist.

Yes, I have finally broken down and decided to seek out professional help for my narcissism, hyperactivity and inattentiveness. This is a big step for me.

See, come to find out my insurance company will pay for 75% of the costs for 40 visits. Then it goes down to 60% after that. Making my co-pay anywhere between $15 and $40 bucks, depending on the rates. At this point I’m just shopping around for someone who makes me feel comfortable.

But an odd thing happened, and I’m not sure if I did it on purpose or not. When the doctor gave me the address and appointment time, I did not write down her name or phone number. So, I showed up at her building, gave the receptionist the suite number and my name, but that’s the only information I had. Which should have been enough, actually. Only, I somehow wrote down either the wrong building number or the wrong suite number. So, in short, I did not make my appointment.

I left feeling like a moron. But I had to give some serious thought to whether or not I had done this on purpose.

While contemplating my navel, I somehow wandered into a Banana Republic.

Well.

I wanted everything I saw.

Wow, look at the argyle sweater vest! That pinstripe khaki suit is to die for! Man, I’d look sharp in a black suede blazer!

Then, I started checking price tags.

I was obviously in the wrong place.

And since when do I get excited about Banana Republic?

And so I left. Not because I was afraid I was about to do something stupid. At this point, I literally cannot afford to do anything stupid. Not “afford” in the abstract sense of the word. But “afford” in the very concrete sense. As in, I don’t have enough money in my account to purchase or charge anything in that store except a pair of socks. And even that would pinch a little.

Then I looked around and realized I was probably in the most inexpensive store on the entire strip.

Barney’s, Sak’s Fifth Avenue, Tiffany’s, Brooks Brothers, Gucci, Versace, and some other very secretive looking stores with names I can’t pronounce. Mara Mara, or some shit like that.

And so, I called my sister, the stock broker.

I laid out, as usual, my laundry list of complaints about my life. I do this because of my sister’s almost uncanny ability to root through bullshit. Whatever I tell her, no matter how I tell her, she knows exactly what I mean.

“You need to make more money,” she said simply. “Stop bullshitting and go do it. Ninety percent of your problems will be solved. And don’t be holding your breath waiting for someone to discover one of your rap records. Chances are slim.”

True.

Undeniably true.

But you all have seen me work my way through this train of thought before. But nothing much has changed about my issues with procrastination and indecision.

Maybe I’ll bring these issues up in therapy.

I’ll say, “Doc, I want to address my narcissism, hyperactivity, inattentiveness, procrastination and indecision…in no particular order.”

When I find a good therapist.

I guess I’ll work on that tomorrow. Or maybe Friday. Or maybe I should take the weekend to process it all. Or maybe I don’t really need therapy.

Not sure, really.

Well, here goes the album again…

CLICK TO DOWNLOAD THE NEW COOL CEE BROWN ALBUM "IGNORANCE & CONFIDENCE"

Thanks for reading.


GOBAMA/BIDEN!


Innocent Question: Do pigs even have lips on which to put lipstick?

Cruising at the Cleaners, Talking Politics with Strange Old White Women and Celebrating 100 Downloads

Okay:

And so today I was picking up my dry cleaning. I noticed the woman who walked in behind me. She was pretty in a really classical way. Beautiful brown skin. Nice, slim body. She looked well-employed.

I thought about approaching her but saw that she was picking up half a dozen men's shirts. Then I looked at her ring finger and saw the big rock.

It's a sign of the times. I am officially getting old.

Since when am I checking out women in pinstripe business suits at the cleaners and picking up subtle cues concerning marital status?

Whatever happened to drooling over fat asses on club night? Since when do I give a fuck about a wedding ring? Since when is that on the radar?

Next thing I know, I'll find silver in my pubes.

Then another woman walked in. Blue jeans. White shirt. Sandy brown locks. Silk scarf.

"Too tall," I thought. "But nice shoes."

What in the fuck is happening to me?!

Then as I'm leaving and climbing into my car, I see a pear-shaped, older white woman getting out of the car in front of me.

"Vote for Obama," she shouts.

"Definitely," I say.

"I'm serious," she says. "I'm with the AFL-CIO."

"Cool," I say, anxious to get back in my car and head home.

"I've never voted Republican," she says as she moves closer. "I didn't vote for that bastard Bush or his father."

"Me neither."

"I voted for Kerry and Edwards."

"Me too."

"Edwards is my cousin."

"You don't say."

"His great grandfather was my great grandfather's brother."

"Get out!"

"My father died of cancer at 52."

"Oh no."

"He was twice as handsome as Edwards ever thought he was. A mix between Cary Grant and Jimmy Stewart."

I was eventually able to pry myself away, but I left thinking, "I guess this is what adults do." They pick up their dry cleaning. Check for wedding bands. Talk politics with strangers on the street.

Maybe I'll start eating bagels.


Oh, and I am proud to announce as of today, more than 100 people have downloaded "Ignorance & Confidence". Thank you, thank you. You're far too kind.

And if you're not one of the proud 100, here she goes again...

CLICK TO DOWNLOAD THE NEW COOL CEE BROWN ALBUM "IGNORANCE & CONFIDENCE"

Thanks for reading.


GOBAMA/BIDEN!


Innocent Question: Is it metro that right after I notice a woman's face and body, I look at her shoes?

A Booty Upon Which to Rest Your Sandwich and Misadventures in Blatant Student Plagiarism

Okay:

And so my work crush was looking especially delicious today. My oh my, that woman has a body on her. She had on this smart looking black cotton dress that clung just so. Nothing especially whorish about her garment, but her body is so incredible, she'd have to wear an over sized sweatsuit to hide it. Even then, the pants would sit up on the round mound and the booty would kind of knowingly wink at you as if to say, "I'm still here."

Actually, I'm a freak for a woman in a sweatsuit. I mean, don't get me wrong. I like miniskirts, tight jeans and sun dresses just as much as the next man. But there's something about a woman in a pair of sweatpants. If her booty is really talking about something, those sweats are gonna cling to her in a way that no other fabric would.

Man o man! It's been a while.

But anyways. If I could get this girl to talk less, I'd propose. Just so I could look at her all the time and smack that booty on Sunday mornings. To be honest, and I know I'm going to sound a lot like the uppity, bourgeois negro you think I am, she's just too damn hood.

It's not something I would have said a year ago. But lately, I just haven't been able to stomach it. As soon as she starts talking about how she's going to spend her entire check at the mall and that $2500 Gucci purse she has her eye on and how much she loves White Zinfandel, I feel the sudden urge to leave the room.

But she sure is nice to look at, I'll tell ya.

Fat donkey booty, man. You should see it.

In other news, I received my first plagiarized essay of the year. It happens all the time. I stopped making a big deal out of it after year three. It's just far too common to make a stink.

I've seen some funny ones though. The audacity of these kids today. Back when I went to high school, in the twentieth century, there was no Google. Your black ass was supposed to go to the library. Or if you were lucky your mother bought you a set of encyclopedias. We had The World Book, but I secretly wanted Encyclopedia Britannica. But who were we to have two sets? Mom wasn't made out of money.

The most common example is when I give a long term assignment with a specific page length. Let's say I give this assignment to a group of thirty kids. Five may turn it in on time. With some fairly forceful probing, another dozen or so may turn the paper in eventually. Literally, every other paper will be completely plagiarized. The others will be so poorly written that I find myself wishing they would just go ahead and hop on the bandwagon to make a clean sweep of it.

Now, when I say completely plagiarized, I do mean completely. Sometimes, I shit you not, they hand in actual Wikipedia print outs with the web addresses, page numbers and dates in the footer and everything.

I swear on everything that is holy.

But today, I was privileged to bear witness to plagiarism on a whole 'nother level. The assignment was to write a review of the last movie you saw. A paragraph or so was all I was looking for.

For the most part, I was pleased with what came back. However, this one little girl. Just this one. She decided that a one paragraph review would require too much effort on her part, so she decided to transcribe the blurb on the back of the DVD case.

Now, I did this once or twice in my day with the blurbs on the backs of novels, so I'm not altogether unfamiliar with the practice. Only, this girl was so lazy, she didn't even pay attention to what she was writing.

Her review ended suspiciously, "For more info, visit the website www.straighttodvdblackromanticcomedy.com"

Well.

I guess I've got my work cut out for me.


And here goes the album again, in case you missed it.

DOWNLOAD

Thanks for reading.


GOBAMA/BIDEN!


Innocent Question: Was I wrong for holding up her paper in front of the class and saying, "What ever you do, don't do what this little girl did."?

Getting Organized with My Young Disciple, Introducing Her To My Eighties Films and Shows Syllabus and Discovering TV Land

Okay:

So, this weekend I discovered a new cable channel called TV Land. Perhaps you've heard of it. Anyways, on this channel they show all the best of everything all the time. On Saturday night, my daughter and I sat on the couch to watch a couple of movies.

I had exiled her to her room for the entire day with the arduous task of cleaning it...thoroughly. My daughter, like me, is a pack rat. She absolutely refuses to throw anything away. Everything seems like it may be of value at some point in the future.

I've still got utilities bills from 1999 on file in my closet. Who knows what could happen? I could get audited. Then it wouldn't seem so crazy, now, would it?

I instructed her to separate everything into 3 piles: stuff you want to keep, stuff you want to give away and stuff you want to throw away. There were old baby dolls and broken toys with pieces missing. But what made the bulk of the mess was paper.

See, my baby girl's quite the artist. All she needs is some paper, some pencils, and a pair of scissors. She could occupy herself for hours. Only thing is, she won't throw any of it away. Even the scraps. To her, it's all precious. We're in there for hours, going through this mound of paper.

A doggy-eared white, 11 x 14.

A yellow circle, the size of a pea.

An origami swan made from a Post-It.

"No, Daddy! Don't throw that away!"

"Well, what are you gonna do with it?"

"Something. I don't know."

And so it took all day...literally. We started around 10 in the morning. We didn't finish until 11 at night. Her room looks great now. And I took My White Homegirl's advice and took a picture of each corner, so from now when I tell her to clean her room, she'll know what it's supposed to look like. But, like I said, we took a break around 5 to watch TV Land.

There was a movie I felt she needed to see. Garry Marshall's "Overboard".

What a wonderful little white romantic comedy! And, as I understand it, Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell started dating during the filming.

But truly, folks. How could I consider myself a responsible parent after denying my daughter the pleasure of seeing one of the most memorable films of that confusing decade? "Come here, honey," I said. "You have to watch this movie with daddy."

She was able to keep up with the plot okay, even caught some of the jokes. Overall, I think she enjoyed it. "She should be happy he taught her how to be less snooty," she said.

I, on the other hand, had a chance to really appreciate Goldie Hawn's performance for the first time. No wonder she got so much work. She was brilliant! Nothing she did was way over the top. She was always able to get the big laugh with subtlety. I respect that.

Makes me want to go back and watch "Private Benjamin". Doesn't she go down on Albert Brooks in this movie? Like, in the limo after the wedding? That's insane. They don't make romantic comedies like that anymore.

And "Protocol". Remember "Protocol"? She got shot in the ass.

But I digress. We were watching "Overboard". The final scene is absolutely brilliant. I almost cried.

Then "Back To School" came on. "Wait, honey," I said. "You also have to watch this movie."

I never realized how funny Rodney Dangerfield was when I was a boy. I thought he was funny. But, dammit, that motherfucker is hilarious.

For example, the motherufucker's in a hot tub with a bunch of co-eds. He asks one, "What's your major?"

"Poetry," she says,

"Well, maybe you could help me straighten out my Longfellow," he says.

Fucking genius.

Then in the final scene when they're begging him to sub in and dive in the final meet, Lou leans over to him and says, "Get up there."

He says, "Are you crazy? The shape I'm in, they could donate my body to science fiction."

ROTF LMBAO, as they say on the Internet.

Then to top it all off, the good folks at TV Land decided to run a "Cosby Show" episode. This was the one where Vanessa was in that AP Science class and did the bullshit solar system science project and her homegirl had made those robots, and she came in 14th place and was mad. The funniest thing about this episode is the little boy who did win the Science Fair. He was a brother, with a skin tight peach sweater on, and a dry feathered doobie. He made a working tornado that "destroys a miniature farm community".

Then, just to make sure I was hooked, they ran a few episodes of "Scrubs". But they had me at hello.

This is my new favorite station.

I recommend you all support them in their future endeavors. They know television.

Download the album if you haven't already. Here's the link...

DOWNLOAD

Thanks for reading.


GOBAMA/BIDEN!


Innocent Question: Is it cool for me to still find Vanessa's friends cute? I mean, we're all adults now. But is it, like, creepy or what?

Rediscovering a Cheap and Tasty Treat That I Affectionately Refer To As "The Ramen"

Okay:

So, I have rediscovered Ramen Noodles. They are delicious little forgotten gems from my college years. I lived on those things for half a decade. I used to spruce them up with all kinds of stuff: hot sauce, cheese, sour cream, you name it.

At the time, you could get six for a dollar.

And this is how I came to rediscover Ramen, just 3 short days ago. It wasn't that I was feeling particularly nostalgic or had developed a hankering. I had predictably ran short on cash before pay day and needed to buy something cheap to eat that would last me the week.

Enter The Ramen.

I was also out of lotion and dish soap. So, I went to the CVS and discovered that they are now 2 for a dollar.

Fucking terrorists.

Is nothing sacred?

Sixty bucks for a tank of gas, and now, 50 cents for a pack of Ramen. Osama's fucking it up for everybody.

So, I took home The Ramen and attempted to make myself a bowl, but I got distracted by I Want to Work for Diddy and overcooked them. They turned into a mushy, beige jelly.

The next day, I took two packs of The Ramen to work with me for lunch. It was a little embarrassing, I guess. People seemed to be shaking their heads in pity. "Is it that bad, brother?" someone asked.

But I didn't slink away to my office and eat alone. I stayed in the lounge area and ate with my co-workers. They watched attentively while I doctored up my meal. I cooked The Ramen in the microwave for a few minutes. Then I let it sit.

Then I added the flavor powder, and let it sit some more.

Then I drained The Ramen.

"Oh, no!" someone shouted. "Don't do that. The juice is best part."

"You common negro," I said. "I have no use for artificially flavored salt water. I want The Ramen."

Then I added some hot sauce, black pepper and a pinch of salt.

They stared at me piteously, but I knew there was a hint of jealousy there. And they all knew better than to ask me for any of The Ramen.

The Ramen was all mine.

In business news, the album is doing quite well, and the feedback has been fantastic. If things keep going at this rate, I may be inclined to spend a few bucks and have the fucking thing mastered.

If you haven't downloaded it yet, here goes the link again...

DOWNLOAD

Thanks for reading.


GOBAMA/BIDEN!


Innocent Question: What do you think are the health ramifications of eating nothing but The Ramen 3 times a day for a month?

The Art and Science of Flatulence and That's Pretty Much All I Have To Talk About Today

Okay:

So, today was not an interesting day. I did, however, work out this morning, for the first time since last Wednesday, I think. I discovered something strange while at the gym.

I fart every time I do a sit up. Literally.

Usually, no one else is in the fitness center when I go. So, it's not so bad. But when there are other people there, I simply turn up my iPod and pretend not to notice. Sometimes people turn their heads, and make funny faces. But no one ever says anything.

I had the same problem when I was trying to do Yoga. And that was more embarrassing because there were usually one or two cuties in the classes. I'd be the only brother in there to begin with. And I'd be cutting loose like I was getting paid for it.

I guess I'm just what they call a "flatulent fellow".

I've come up with different categories of farts. They're not all the same, you know.

1. THE BARK: This is your standard one-second audible fart. It probably won't stink at all. More thunder than lightning.

2. THE WARM FRONT: It's usually a sign that you've got some shitting to do. This is a silent, short warm fart. It may or may not stink, but if it does, God help you.

3. THE MIST: This is just like The Warm Front, except there's a hint of moisture. And unlike The Warm Front, this one almost always smells rotten eggish.

4. THE HEATER: This one is a mix between The Warm Front and The Mist, except it's fucking hot! Guaranteed to funk up the place.

5. THE DRUMROLL: This is essentially an elongated Bark. I've had Drumrolls that must've lasted at least 30 seconds. These rarely ever stink though.

6. THE WMD: The WMD is a painful, shockingly loud Bark. It's short, it hurts, and it's sure to make everyone stop dead in their tracks. And it almost never stinks.

7. THE HYBRID: Sometimes, if you're like me, you may fart in a series. That series may contain several different types of farts. Sometimes they may run together, creating a Hybrid. That is, it may start out as a Mist than drag out into a Drumroll and end with a shot of Heater.

Today I had a lot of Mists going on. And sure as shit (no pun intended), when I got home I had to handle my business.

If you've got any other types of farts that you know of and I have not mentioned them, please leave the name and a brief explanation in the comment box.


And here goes the album again

DOWNLOAD

Thanks for reading.


GOBAMA/BIDEN!


Innocent Question: If you fart while you're reading this, do me a favor and try to see if you can identify the fart in one of my categories. Thanks.

Ignorance, But Not So Much Confidence, The Coffee Situation, My Disproportionate Head and Shopping In My Mamma's Linen Closet

Okay:

So, my 3-day weekend is over and I finally posted the album. The download numbers are not as high as expected, but I promised myself I wouldn't allow myself to become discouraged by obsessing over numbers. Which is pretty much a guarantee that I will.

But I digress. Business talk is boring. *yawn*

Back to the random thoughts of a self-absorbed, unsuccessful, independent artist.

This morning I noticed that I waste anywhere between 30 minutes and an hour every morning, just sort of sitting there. Not engaged in any particular activity, just kind of dicking around.

It's quite amazing, actually. I guess it's my version of meditation, as it were. Sometimes I'll turn on the computer. Open a program. Then close it. Listen to half of a song. Watch half of a video. Then I'll put on a pot of coffee.

The coffee situation in my apartment has been weird lately. I've been frequenting the recently opened Organic Market around the corner and using their soy french vanilla creamer, as well as their raw sugar. It makes a not altogether bad cup, but it's not what I'm used to.

Soy milk has a bizarre silky texture that makes me nauseous. I certainly prefer International Delight. And the raw sugar has a concentrated sweetness that is difficult to measure. So my cups lack the thickness of a traditional cup and are usually too sweet or not sweet enough.

But I'm trying to get used to it. I don't want to die of coffee. That would be pathetic.

I also look at myself in the mirror a lot. I'm wondering whether or not I want to lose weight. I mean, if I can become more disciplined with my workout schedule and commit some time everyday, I could be ripped by Christmas.

Losing any more weight may not be a good idea because...well...I've got a huge fucking head, actually. I mean, it's noticeably large. Retard big.

I don't want to look like a lollipop. Twenty less pounds and I suppose my dates will be expecting me to start drooling and banging my head on the wall. I shouldn't be surprised if they start shoving creamed corn in my mouth with a small rubber spoon.

Then, of course, I have my private time. Which I'm enjoying less and less these days. Seems like a good sign that I'll be able to ween myself off the practice eventually. I'd like to be done with it by the time I get married.

That would be awfully pathetic, now, wouldn't it? Locking myself in the bathroom for 20 minutes at a time or insisting on not being disturbed when I'm "working" on the computer. "Knock before you enter," and all that.

Then I take a shower. My tub is really, quite filthy these days. Mildew is forming. It hasn't taken on a smell, but it's only a matter of time. I've seen this before.

In my case, it's usually a sign that I'm depressed or stressed out. My kitchen floor is also pretty nasty. And sticky, actually. Which I suppose is a whole 'nother level of filth.

So, today I am going shopping. I need lotion, a mop, soap, a new shower liner, dishwashing detergent and laundry detergent. But I don't have any money in my account really, so I'm not going to the store, per se.

I'm at my mother's house.

Her being from the south and raised by parents who lived through the Depression, she's a stockpiler of toiletries and the like. She's got enough toilet paper and what have you to make it through the next two administrations.

So, when she gets home, I plan to hit her up for some bare necessities. She'll pretend to be annoyed but will secretly take great pleasure in having her closet raided. "What would you do if your mamma wasn't always so well-prepared?" she'll ask.

"Go to work ashy," I'll say.

Here's the album again.

Thanks for reading.


GOBAMA/BIDEN!


Innocent Question: When out of toilet paper, what's the strangest thing you've ever wiped your ass with?

The Day After the Drop, Meditations on Palin and Lustful Thoughts About Naughty Politicians

Okay:

Well, first things first. I posted my third solo album, “Ignorance & Confidence” yesterday for free download. Last time I checked, there had been a few downloads. But I’ve decided I’m not going to obsess over numbers. Or maybe I will. Who knows? I surprise myself consistently.

I stuck to my original promise to myself, which was not to spend a dime on this project. And to date, I have held true. I haven’t even paid the $400 to have my Internet reconnected. Between my mother’s house and work, I seem to be getting by okay. And there’s always the library if I’m really pressed.

The lack of connection has presented some obstacles. I have not been able to meet my Friend Acquisition Goals on social networking sites like Ning, MySpace, Imeem and Facebook. And I haven’t been able to step up my message board game at places like BGOL and Okayplayer. And I haven’t been able to really push my YouTube videos.

Luckily, I’m not accountable to anyone but myself. So, when I get the dough, I’ll call RCN and pay the bastards. Until then, I’ll just have to make due.

Tragic irony. It sucks. But fuck it, y’know.

There is a Way.

On the current event side of things, you know I have plenty to say about this whole Palin business.

When I first read the news I thought to myself, “Brilliant.” The GOP is a bunch of crafty bastards. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized how dumb of a move it is.

Maybe dumb is a strong word, but it’s certainly a gamble. Obviously, McCain is trying to snag some of those Hillary detractors everyone’s been talking about for the past month. Only Palin and Clinton are ideological opposites. But if these detractors, for the most part, feel that Hillary’s loss was due in large part to sexism within the Party, they are certainly ripe for the picking. So it may pay off. America may be that dumb.

I wouldn’t be surprised. Just disappointed.

If Barack had lost the nomination to Hillary, I would probably assume that racism played a part. But I wouldn’t vote for McCain if he picked Michael Steele as his running mate. Or Condoleezza Rice or Colin Powell or Clarence Thomas or any of those other handkerchief-head coons in Washington.

Why? Because they’re black? Vote for them for what? So they can get rid of welfare programs, abortion, affirmative action, decrease school budgets, insure global ecocide within my lifetime and start World War III? I don’t think so. Me and those cats are NOT cut from the same cloth. Those niggas are not invited to the cookout.

I’d actually be quite insulted. I’d probably vote for Hillary just ‘cause.

But the truth is I wouldn’t be undecided in the first place. I wouldn’t have a problem with Barack or Hillary in office. They agree on almost every issue of importance to me. I just prefer Barack because I think he’s more intelligent, articulate, likeable, inspirational, and, yes, he is black. And I wouldn’t mind looking at Michelle’s booty for the next eight years.

But I would never ever ever ever ever ever ever consider voting Republican.

Maybe Independent.

In fact, I’m registered as an Independent. But I’d shave my scrotum with a hot spoon before I’d ever help one of those twisted conservative Evangelical fucks get in office.

Who is this Palin chick anyway? I mean, come on. I think old Johnny Boy is thinking with his dick again.

But if I was Mrs. McCain, knowing how I got him in the first place, I’d be very leery of his sexy librarian running mate. She could get it. Those glasses really do it for me. And I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to fuck a politician before. So maybe I’ll vote for them after all. I’d like to see more of her actually.

But I digress. One positive thing to come out of all this is the GOP can no longer attack Barack on the lack-of-experience note. However, Barack needs to be really careful about how hard he comes down on Palin. He doesn’t want to come off like a bully. Just let Biden make her look like a moron in the debates.

It shouldn’t be hard.

Still, this is gonna be a close one. Over the past month or so, McCain has taken a small lead in the polls. I’m hoping the Republican convention will be a disaster. I mean, there’s no way they’ll be able to top Mile High Stadium, but never underestimate old, crotchety, wealthy white men. They’ll figure out something. And I guess they did manage to steal some of Barack’s thunder with their most recent stunt. And maybe that’s all they intended to do, which could pay off way more than any backlash for what appears to be a poor, impetuous decision on McCain’s part.

We will see in November.

Go back to your fucking igloo, Palin. Unless you wanna give me some. Then you can stay. But you have to go back as soon as we’re finished.

And here goes the link to the album again.

Thanks for reading.


GOBAMA/BIDEN!


Innocent Question: Can we get Palin and Michelle on the same ticket? That would be hot.

And Here It Is...Finally..."Ignorance & Confidence"

Okay:

So today is the day and here she is...





CLICK HERE TO DOWNLOAD.

I have just given birth to a forty-two minute long player and, boy, are my arms tired. It was a quite an ordeal getting this thing done. I didn't make a final decision on the track listing until Friday night. But this collection of songs, in this particular order, is truly something special. And it's free.

I typically don't blog on holidays. But here's a track-by-track back story.

1. INTRO: This was an actual dream that I had. But I didn't realize what the dream meant until I came up with the idea for this intro. It's not meant to be sacrilegious in any way, and I certainly hope it isn't interpreted that way. Or maybe I don't care.

2. SHINE: This was produced by my good friend, Du. He sent this beat to me a few months ago via email and said he just wanted me to put down a good 16 because he wanted to make a posse cut. When I was in the final stages of putting the album together I remembered this track and asked if he ever got any other emcees on it. Luckily the answer was no and I was able to create this track, which is probably my favorite on the entire album.

3. A GORGEOUS KILLER: I got the title from my favorite verse of all time, Pusha T's 16 bars of perfection on "What Happened To That Boy?". Joe D gave me this track a long time ago and I rediscovered it earlier this year. The song isn't really about anything. It's certainly not about violence. It's metaphorical.

4. CUCUMBER: This is another track from Du. I love this beat. I don't know how you could even attempt to talk about anything besides pimp shit over something like this. I guess here I was trying to redefine cool, not literal pimping. Hopefully, that's what comes across. Or maybe I don't care.

5. INTERLUDE: I recorded this while I was suffering from a fairly serious throat infection this summer that kept me quarantined to the house for a week. Joe thought it was hilarious, and maybe you will too. Or maybe you'll feel the same way that I feel about most interludes. An unnecessary self-indulgent distraction from the music.

6. THEME FROM "A PLACE CALLED FAR": Joe D produced this one too. I'm probably most proud of this track. The concept, I think, is pretty original and truly interesting. I'll let you be the judge though.

7. COCKY: Bridge produced this one. He's a good friend and he's been sending me beats for a few months now. This track reminds me of my favorite period in hip hop. The lyrics are a reflection of me at my irreverent best, balanced with some mature introspective conceits. Me likey.

8. GOVERNMENT GAME: Also produced by Bridge. This was the second track I recorded to the beats he had been sending me. I recorded the first verse one night. Then I went to the movies one night, alone. And that's when the second verse came to me. I wanted to create a crescendo effect. It ended up sounding exactly the way it did in my head, which is a rarity.

9. DC IZZA MOTHA@#$%: This is another Joe D banger. I recorded the first version of this track at Gill's house earlier this year. There was some crazy buzzing going on in the mic, so I re-recorded it at my house later, but it's pretty close to the original. Always gotta do at least one for the homies. Maybe this'll become like a local anthem. That would be nice.

10. LOVE'S HOLIDAY: Joe's a genius. I absolutely love this beat and always have, but I could never figure out what to write to it. Then this idea just came to me one day while I was lounging around the house. Originally I was singing the bridge at the end, but I was horribly out of key so I knew I wanted to get another vocalist to sing the lyrics for me. Moon was my first choice, and it took months before I finally got her over to my house to lay the thing down. It came out great though. I met John Lee though my friend Matt Grason at a Motel show at DC9. I told him I needed some guitar work and we set up some time for him to come through. He brought in this big plastic suitcase full of shit that would give his guitar different sounds. He drank a few beers, smoked a few cigarettes, did 3 or 4 takes and was out of there. I was completely mesmerized and more than satisfied with how everything turned out.

So there you have it. I hope you enjoy it. Happy Labor Day and thanks for taking the time to download "Ignorance & Confidence".

A Cheeky Review of Obama's Speech and One Last Plea for Support This Labor Day

Okay:

So, I just got finished watching Obama deliver his speech at the Democratic National Convention. Right now, there are three gray-haired white men breaking his forty-two minute address down sentence by sentence.

Twenty-nine declarations of policy to counter attacks that his promises for change are empty political catch phrases.

Four direct attacks against the George W. Bush presidency.

Nineteen direct attacks against John McCain.

“Eloquent”

“Masterful”

“Poignant”

“Inspiring”

At some point, I imagine Barack is going to walk onto their set, pull his dick out, and they’ll all take turns blowing him.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I am, perhaps, the most ardent Barack supporter that I know personally. And I thought his speech, as usual, was absolutely spot-on. He’s a bad motherfucker. And I like the idea of having a bad motherfucker in office. And him being black is just icing on the cake.

And, no, I’m not particularly concerned with the issues. At least, I wasn’t before. But this brother makes me feel like I should care. It seemed, as corny as it sounds, that at certain points he was speaking directly to me.

He talked about people having mountainous student loans that they can’t pay off… Hello!

Increasing wages for educators…Hello!

People not being able to afford their mortgages…Hello!

Driving cars they can’t afford…Hell-fucking-o!

But in all fairness, there were some things that did bother me. So in the interest of being somewhat objective, I will list them in short order.

1. His daughters have their hair pressed. That really bothers me.

2. There’s something funny going on with Michelle’s mouth. I think she may have had her jaw broken before.

3. His suit jacket didn’t have a vent, which I think is a mistake fashion-wise.

4. He did stumble several times, which, as a rapper who must commit hundreds of thousands of words to memory, I find inexcusable.

5. His introductory video was a little white for my tastes. Makes it look like the only black person he knows is his wife.

Other than that, I was absolutely captivated. Makes me wonder what the Republicans are going to say tomorrow. I like the part where he challenged McCain to reframe from attacks against his character and patriotism. They’re gonna have to get really creative to offset the magnitude of this thing. It’s historical.

Even Pat Buchanan said, “This was genuinely outstanding, magnificent…it was beautiful.”

Times they are a’changin’. The oldest, whitest, orneriest conservative in politics had to take his turn licking the black man’s balls.

Maybe McCain will say, “You know what? Fuck it.”

But back to me. This Labor Day I will be posting my third solo album, “Ignorance & Confidence” for free download. I hope you all take a few minutes out of your day to click the link and have a listen.

If you love America, download my album. Because it’s never been about me. It’s about You.


Thanks for reading.


GOBAMA/BIDEN!


“IGNORANCE & CONFIDENCE” AVAILABLE FOR FREE DOWNLOAD ON LABOR DAY AT
http://coolceebrown.blogspot.com


Innocent Question: Am I the only one that thinks the cameramen have been ordered to not shoot anymore profiles of Michelle’s booty? I haven’t seen that masterpiece of human flesh in months.

I Piss People Off, Someone Pissed Me Off and the Return of the Sinnerman

Okay:

So, I am well aware that I piss people off all the time. I piss off my mother, my stepfather, my sister, my daughter sometimes, random people on public transit.

Most times, people are not shy about letting me know.

“You are such a fucking asshole!” a friend of mine screamed at me over the phone last week.

“You’re a fairly consistent fuck-up,” my stepfather said to me a few days ago.

I’ve also heard, “You’ve got some nerve.”

And, “Who do you think you are?”

I typically take it with a grain of salt. Consider the source. Respond with something flippant.

This seems to piss people off more than anything else. I’m not sure why though. You piss someone off. They tell you that you pissed them off, in some decidedly unfriendly language. The “f” word and what have you.

Then, when you don’t give a shit, they get really pissed off.

It’s actually quite entertaining. You can watch them authoring an impromptu tell-off, their eyes moving about furiously, veins bulging and whatnot. And when you respond with a smile and a rather casual, “Sorry you feel that way”, there’s an inexplicable, sadistic ecstasy.

At least, that’s the way I see it.

But, occasionally, the tables are turned for me. I’m a fairly even-tempered guy, inexhaustible list of neuroses aside. People rarely piss me off. They annoy me. Wear out their welcomes. Give me the impression that they are of lower intelligence. Offend my sensibilities. But I rarely get pissed.

But when I do―“Whoa Nelly,” as they say.

That brings me to today’s episode. A co-worker of mine, good friend actually, approached me in the hallway and instructed me to begin offering services to some kid who was having trouble adjusting to high school. When I told her it was not my job to counsel freshman having trouble adjusting, she responded that it was indeed my job and insinuated that I did not know exactly what my job is.

Well.

Next thing I knew, we were screaming at each other at the top of our lungs in the middle of the hallway. “Have you ever taken a course in this?” she asked.

“No,” I replied. “But you’re still wrong. And fuck your bullshit class.”

This statement, I realize, retaliatory and immature as it was, is indicative of my general attitude towards everything. That is, if I am confident that I know what I’m doing, an overt suggestion to the contrary is infuriating. The sadness of all this is how fucking typical it is. I felt myself about to blurt out, “Are you trying to tell me how to do my job?!!”

How pathetic is that? I have somehow become someone who takes pride is his work or whatever. This nine-to-five of mine, this gig, this slave, has somehow taken root in my inner-self. So much so as to create feelings. Like a lover.

I’m not happy about this.

But fuck all that. Work is dumb. Back to the art.

As a treat and a bit of an incentive, I am posting my first solo album, “Sinnerman”, for free download. Or maybe it’s not a treat at all. But here goes.

It’s an enjoyable piece. Produced, recorded and engineered entirely by my good friend and Dirty Water cohort, Joe D. I got a couple of good reviews and actually made a small profit on this album. A very small one. It was recorded in 2005 over the course of a few months. It’s unique among my other efforts in that every song that was recorded for the album made it to the final cut. Joe and I usually leave a few songs on the proverbial cutting room floor for one reason or another. But this one was different. We got into a good creative space and everything we did came out great.

I really don’t look at it as a collection of songs, as a result. It’s more like one long song with a lot of movements. Like an opera, but with no narrative. I guess my favorite thing about it is the incredibly wide range of topics. I don’t think I could do anything like it now. Also, I think Joe was able to avoid the pitfalls of the project producer. That is, he was able to create a unique sound for each track. You’d think I had a cadre of beatsmiths working on this thing.
Enjoy. And make sure you remember where to be on Labor Day.


Thanks for reading.


GOBAMA/BIDEN!


“IGNORANCE & CONFIDENCE” AVAILABLE FOR FREE DOWNLOAD ON LABOR DAY AT
http://coolceebrown.blogspot.com/


Innocent Question: Am I the only one who gets the occasional pube snag? Doesn’t that shit sting?

Quotables from My Hip and Not So Hip Parents and Some Notes On My Twitter

Okay:

My parents had me late. My father was in his forties. My mother was in her late thirties. My father is a stand-up comedian who never happened. Motherfucker is hilarious. And pretty hip, too.

An example.

My daughter's mother called me the spring of my junior in college and told me she was pregnant. It was an out-of-body experience, to say the least. I knew I couldn't tell my mother, and I didn't for some time, actually. But my father was the first person I thought to call.

"Dad," I said. "I think I may have knocked somebody up."

"Wow," he said. Then he took a deep breath. "Well, if she don't scream, you don't holler."

I didn't know exactly what he meant at the time, but it sure sounded cool. Old school pimp shit. I've always respected old school pimp shit.

My mother, on the other hand, has never been hip. Now don't get me wrong. She is the smartest, most resourceful, classiest, most beautifullest woman I know. She's my mamma. And she's a hell of a cook. Or, as my father used to say, "She can cook a pig in fifteen minutes."

She also sews. Back in the seventies, she used to make her own dresses, and then make my father a tie with the leftover material. I imagine they were very cute.

And she can fix a toilet.

Anyways. My mother's not hip though. I was reminded of this just the other day. A little over 10 years ago, someone taught my mother what "da bomb" means. And ever since then, whenever she wants to sound hip while exclaiming her affinity for something or someone, she says it's "da bomb".

The other day we were discussing my finances, or rather my lack thereof. "401K's are 'da bomb'," she said.

One day we were discussing the national debate over gay marriage. "Gays are 'da bomb'," she said.

"Lactaid is 'da bomb'."

"South Africa is 'da bomb'."

And her latest, "Catholicism is 'da bomb'."

(Apparently, she likes the fact that mass is only one hour, and everyone stays relatively calm.)

She's working on incorporating "off da hook" into her daily vocabulary, but I don't think it's gonna take.

Now I'm going home to finish some mixing on a couple of songs. I need to get final drafts to the producers before the end of the week. Remember where to be at midnight on Labor Day.

I haven't been whoring myself all over the Internet for the past month for nothing. I've got a fucking Twitter account and everything now. Fucking Twitter, man.

My good friend Kelli Anderson of http://sojournals.com had been pestering me for months to sign up. I just didn't like the sound of it.

Twitter.

It sounds like a new nickname for coochie. But I'm glad I did it. Wave of the future, man. Twitter is 'da bomb'.


And those videos again.

Thanks for reading.


GOBAMA/BIDEN!


"IGNORANCE & CONFIDENCE" AVAILABLE FOR FREE DOWNLOAD ON LABOR DAY AT
http://coolceebrown.blogspot.com


Innocent Question: Am I the only one who sometimes sprays on the morning's first piss? What's that about when you spray, man? What's going on there?

A Scathing Critique of the Most Popular Videos, A Glowing Tribute to Pink's Latest Effort and an Update on the New Album

Okay:

So, I just came home from my first day of school. It's been a really long day. I woke up around 4:30 for some reason. I guess I was more anxious than I realized. I went to the gym for an hour or so. Then I came back to my apartment and watched MTV for a while.

I used to love MTV when I was a teenager. They played videos all day. It was great. Now it's mostly reality shows, and most of them suck ass. But early, early, early in the morning, when it's still dark out, they still play actual music videos. And when I can wake up early enough, I like to watch. Most of the time, the videos suck just as much as the goddamn reality shows.

There's that fucking Nelly video. Too generic and devoid of soul or creativity to criticize. Then there's a whole lot of Flo Rida, who may or may not own a shirt. And that white prick, Donnie, from "Making The Band 3". But there's so much Diddy in the video it just ends up being funnier than anything else. I mean, from what I can tell, he has a decent voice and the song is not awful, but the ego on Diddy would put Mussolini to shame.

It's kind of like watching a porno movie where the male star keeps talking into the camera, and directing the camera man to give him close ups, as if anyone were there to see him. True, if he were not there things would be pretty boring and perhaps there would be nothing to watch at all. But still, nobody's there to see him, per se.

Then there's this Slipknot video. I can't make any sense of the song. Just a bunch of white boys screaming. But everybody in the band wears these really cool leather masks. They look like psycho killers. I like them.

Then there's the Gym Class Heroes, who look cooler than they sound. The lead vocalist is a half-breed with a pierced septum and those big quarter-sized African earrings. I've always wondered what those people do when they decide that they're over the whole freaky National Geographic thing. If they take those things out, what do their earlobes look like? Are they all nasty and flabby with big holes in them or do they draw back up relatively quickly? I'd like to know the answer before I die. Anyway, the new Gym Class Heroes song sucks. It's called "Cookie Jar" or something like that, and I don't like it. Although I'm sure they're nice people. Even the freaky-looking mulatto.

Cassie, who I had forgotten all about, has a new really stupid song with Lil Wayne in it. Now, don't get me wrong. I like Cassie, as far as marginally-talented skinny light-skinned girls with long hair go. And I like Lil Wayne. But I could take a break from him for a while. What about you?

There were some gems though. John Legend has a new dance track with Andre 3000. They're looking excessively metrosexual in the video, but the song is a stone cold jam. And it's good to see Andre under any circumstances. Motherfucker always brings it. I like the way he always manages to say something truly nasty without making it seem misogynistic. I'd like to live that way.

But my new jammy jam jam is Pink's new single. You heard right. Pink's new single. I don't know what the name of it is, but it's a great fucking song and the video is pretty cool too. As I understand it, she wrote it about her ex-husband and their divorce and he is actually in the video playing her estranged paramour. Now, that is what I call art.

Then I turned off the television, had some private time in front of my computer, put on some coffee, took a shower, shaved, got dressed, and went to work.

I don't remember much else after that. And now, I'm back at my mother's house, using her Internet connection and watching "Rain Man" on OnDemand. I'm waiting for my daughter to get here so I can see how her first day in third grade went.

In "Ignorance & Confidence" news, I just got off the phone with one of the producers, and I think I'll be done with the track listing by tomorrow night. I'm starting to become really enamored with this project. This one has some charm. I know you guys are gonna love it. Make sure you tell all your friends to be here on Labor Day.

And the videos again...

Thanks for reading.


GOBAMA/BIDEN!


"IGNORANCE & CONFIDENCE" AVAILABLE FOR FREE DOWNLOAD ON LABOR DAY AT
http://coolceebrown.blogspot.com/


Tip of the Day: Gentlemen, until you are familiar with the power of the flush, do not flush while you are still sitting. It could go bad.

My Latest Vow of Celibacy, Updates on the New Album, and Other Random Unrealistic Promises to Self

Okay:

And so my Internet is still off. I just can't get over the irony of all this. The album drops in a week, and I can't promote it the way I planned. It's all fucked up, man. Somebody out there wants me to fail.

Maybe that someone is me.

Maybe I have sabotaged myself and made it absolutely impossible for me to be successful in this venture. Maybe I secretly want to remain an unknown, frustrated independent artist.

But that's a downer, now isn't it?

In lighter news, I have recommitted myself to celibacy.

You heard me. Celibacy.

I have had it. It's all too complicated. I know some of my regular readers may be laughing their asses off. "You've said this before, Cee Brown," they might be saying. But I'm serious this time.

I've had enough. I'm full. I'm backing away from the table.

"What brings this about?" you ask? I had me what they call an epiphany.

A metaphor, if you will.

I also stopped eating meat recently. I woke up one morning and said, "To hell with all this shit."

Not because I'm some kind of animal-freak or a Buddhist or whatever. I give two shits how many chickens Farmer Joe kills every year. I just decided I wasn't getting anything good out of it anymore. Beef sometimes disagrees with my stomach. Pork is gross. And, chicken...well, chicken is delicious actually. But, dammit, you've gotta take a stand at some point. And so I stopped.

I feel similarly about sex. I don't want another kid. I don't want an STD. And I don't want a girlfriend. Odds are, the more I have sex, the more likely I am to get one of the aforementioned undesirables. So, until further notice, I am closing down the shop.

We may open our doors again one day, but for now, let's just say we're closed for renovations.

In other news, Joe came over this weekend and helped me put the finishing touches on the album. We drank a few beers and put some work in. Now I'm just doing some mixing and trying to finalize the track listing.

I have some more exclusives coming up this week as we draw closer and closer still to Labor Day. The new "Cucumber" video has 42 views so far. The "Love's Holiday" video is at 133.

It's funny, converting art into numbers. But I guess this is something like the celibacy thing. I am also going to be abstaining from poverty for the indefinite future.

I will also be abstaining from beer, which is delicious but chock-full of calories.

And reality television.

And happy hour.

And church.

Here are those videos in case you missed them.

Thanks for reading.


GOBAMA!...AND BIDEN.


"IGNORANCE & CONFIDENCE" AVAILABLE FOR FREE DOWNLOAD LABOR DAY AT http://coolceebrown.blogspot.com


Tip of the Day: Gentleman, apparently if you eat pineapples it will improve the taste of your essence and provide for more enthusiasm from your lady during those special moments. You're welcome.

Good Places to Make Dookey, the "Cucumber" Debut and Some Questions on Which to Ponder

Okay:

On Monday the students arrive and I begin my eighth school year in urban education. I've learned a lot and come a long way since I first started teaching six years ago. I could tell you some stories about my first year, but I don't want to incriminate myself (No Kelly).

One thing I do remember about my first teaching job, if you don't mind talking about it, was that I had a great staff bathroom to shit in. It had a lock on the door and a nice clean-looking commode. A little toilet paper lining and I was totally comfortable doing my morning movement before class started.

The place where I worked after that was walking distance from my house, so I usually went home to handle my business. The place after that had a really nice, spacious staff bathroom with potpourri, soft music and an "occupied" light.

Nothing beat my last job though. I was in a seven-story office building that had been converted into a school. The seventh floor, however, was reserved for the executive offices. And up there was the queen mother of all handicapped stalls. A small horse could have given birth in that stall. Sometimes I would just go up there to think. Even if I didn't have to take a shit.

This new place though. Jesus. The staff bathroom is in the teacher's lounge, which makes no sense. People can hear you pee. And it's thirty people sharing that one commode. You can't a shit in there, someone's always waiting right outside the door.

They'll smell you.

I guess the upside is it's just a 5-minute drive from home. I can go home and take a shit on my lunch break. But I shouldn't have to, y'know. I just shouldn't have to.

And on the business tip, 27 views today of my new music video "Cucumber".

And 119 views of "Love's Holiday".

Not too shabby.

Thanks, everybody.

Next week, there will be more treats. So stay tuned.

And, now, some questions on which to ponder this lovely Friday...

1) You can page your lost portable phone. Why can't you page your lost remote control?

2) How come there's no McDonald's delivery service in DC?

3) How come Diddy gets to have so many reality shows?

4)How come so many overweight, middle-aged, out-of-work white actors dye their hair blond? Don't they know they look ridiculous?

5) How come you have to wash your dishes before you put them in the machine?

6) What am I supposed to do with all my VHS tapes?

7) Does anybody else remember those long cardboard boxes they used to put CDs in?

8) Where exactly is "The Internet"?

9) Has anyone else here heard that white people don't put on lotion?

10) Where's Malik Yoba?


Talk amongst yourselves.



Thanks for reading.


GOBAMA!


"IGNORANCE & CONFIDENCE" AVAILABLE FOR FREE DOWNLOAD SEPTEMBER 1ST AT
http://coolceebrown.blogspot.com


Tip of the Day: Do not get hot wax on your pubes! It may seem freaky and interesting, but it could go bad.