the least

approximately two or so years ago, while bored and aimlessly late night searching for girls gone wild informercials channel surfing, i came across a roundtable of hip-hop heads on mtv28 discussing the “state of hip-hop” and reflecting on the year’s big events. when the year’s biggest event (the ending of the nas/jay-z cold war and subsequent merger) was brought up, each of the dozen or so people at the roundtable nodded their heads in joyous approval and spoke about how great it was that these two iconic figures finally decided to make peace and music with each other.

well, each of the dozen…except one.

as soon as the mention of this peacemaking was brought up, the camera panned to this one person, who was making a face like he was being forced to suck on a lemon stuck between her…

..legs. a look of sheer disdain and disgust and hate that these two grown men had the nerve to stop beefing, and that mtv had the audacity to laud this as a good thing.

when the moderator finally asked this one person what the hell was wrong with him, this one person remarked (**paraphrasing**)

“i’m sayin though, b. ya’ll n*ggas acting like n*ggas in the street care about what these old ass n*ggas do, b. word is bond, i gots my ear to the streets, b…i talk to them young n*ggas everyday, and they aint worried about no aarp-ass n*ggas squashing beef. naw, man. i make my music for the 14 year olds that wanna hear about my life…b*tches and hoes and weed and killing n*ggas. the 14 year olds in the street do wanna hear about no damn peace, b.”

when you combine the amount of sheer, unadulteratedly jubilant ignorance this person happliy exhibits, plus the fact that he’s helped to perpetuate a horrendous trend (young african-american men dressing like jamaican dancehall artists) despite his incessant clowning of “f*gg*t ass rappers with tight jeans” (read: kanye), plus the fact that he’s a founding member of the most aggressively ignorant crew in the history of hip-hop, plus his resonate and undoubtable influence and appeal with many young-minded idiots people, is the reason why…

…jim jones is my least favorite person in america, and the bane of vsb.com’s existance.

dishonorable mention: owens, terrell. kilpatrick, kwame. the chubby snizzle who lives on the bottom floor of my building who always makes a big fuss about moving away from the door when she’s out there blocking the entrance and smoking cigarettes.

so, dyspeptic readers of vsb.com, who is your least favorite person in america right now, and why?

—the champ

hair, hair, hair

i’ve had the exact same haircut for thirteen years.

real eggheads do real things

see, egghead

since allen iverson influenced me to upgrade from a close fade to a ceaser some time in the winter of 1995, i’ve stayed loyal (heh) to the cut. sure, i occasionally change the length and thickness of my beard and mustache, but my hair has basically remained the same.

at the base level, professing to having the exact same cut for over a decade seems somewhat odd until you remember that for a professional black male, there really aren’t that many variations. this is a stark contrast to the 80′s, a decade which saw the virtual wild wild west of acceptable adult black male hair. nowadays, our choices have basically been narrowed down to ceaser, short fro, locks, or bald. sure, if my head wasnt shaped exactly like an easter egg i could conceivably grow cornrows or rock mini’s with watermelon jolly ranchers at the tips, but i know that doing such could, no, wait, would stifle my professional and social growth as well as insure many nights of dry penis.

although we’ve commonly and willfully accepted that a change in hairstyle can drastically alter a persons job prospects, we seem to be a bit hesitant to admit how much it affects our dating selves as well. in a perfect world, i wouldn’t be lactose intolerant, jim jones would be dead be managing a bodega in new rochelle, and your hair wouldnt really matter that much to anyone else. bald or perm, braids or process, in a perfect world you’d still get the same type of attention from the opposite sex regardless of what’s happening on your scalp. its the person inside that matters, right? your hair should have sh*t to do with that.

yet, as i hear “come home with me” obnoxiously blasting from some car outside my bedroom window, i’m reminded that jim jones is still alive, cookies and cream shakes give me impressive gas, and hair matters.

hair matters in the sense that a particular hairstyle can give strangers immediate synopsizes of your personality. adjectives such as “afro-centric“, “high-maintenance“, “free spirited”, “hood rat-ish“, and “gotdamn foolish” could be immediately assigned to you, and this same immediate synopsis affects what type of person might be drawn to you. as i jokingly mentioned before, i know that if i had cornrows instead of the simple ceaser, i wouldnt have been able to bag some of the women ive bagged before, their decisions solely based off of my implied maturity level and income potential. regardless of whether or not this is right or wrong, you can’t deny that its true

hair matters because with many black women, merely suggesting to them that changing their hair might possibly result in increased attention from the opposite sex could induce eyerolls, dialated eyeballs, eye-poking, and eventually eye-gouging.

hair matters because, well, none of us would have ever heard of kelis if it didnt, and, well, we all know how much the idea of kelis has influenced the direction of each of our lives

hair matters because, well, i’m not even gonna attempt to discuss the long and nuanced history regarding african-american women and their hair, so i’m just use this clip as my cheat sheet:

so, coarsely maned fine people of vsb.com, how does hair matter to you?

—the champ

i’m going to ask you to leave

***as a service brought to you by verysmartbrothas.com, the brothas have decided to list their “unique” deal-breakers when it comes to the opposite sex, and would like for you all to do the same. note, these aren’t you garden variety “i can’t stand women with bad hygiene and goatees” types of pet-peeves that basically everyone shares, but quirky shit thats unique to you***

panama’s list

1. Women who only listen to one genre of music – If you’re entire catalog consists of “neo-soul”, Cash Money Records, or smooth jazz a la Kenny G, well you can count me out like New Edition. And while you’re counting, go on ahead and light yourself on fire.

2. To piggyback on the first one, women who only have 10 CD’s period - You clearly don’t care about music which means you have no soul. And if you have no soul that makes you Elvis. And I do not like Elvis. So….first, open up the medicine cabinet. Next, open the Ibuprofen. Then, OD on pills and finally, die smurf die.

3. Women who think fine reading includes Zane or Eric Jerome Dickey – Yeah, so…no.

4. For that matter, women who don’t own books – Unintentional ignorance is as much an STD as HIV. Much like that phat badunkudonk you’re carrying around, I’ll assume your lack of intellectual prowess came from your mama because daddy didn’t hit it right. Basically, I want nothing to do with you or your tainted ignorant smurfin’ gene pool.

5. Women who think Love Jones is the best Black movie ever – Mostly because it isn’t.

the champ’s list

1. smokers

(I tried dating a couple smokers before, but even going down on them has a bit of a cigarettey residue. it almost makes you wish that you were at a restaurant, so you could get a refund… )

“ummm, excuse me waiter, but I didn’t order this ashy-ass smoked saltfish. please send it back immediately”

2. women who don’t appreciate the value of a good comedy. i honestly feel that it’s a sign of a serious emotional defect if you ask someone to name their 15 favorite movies, and the list is comedy-less. for whatever reason, these types of women also usually have excessively hairy feet. i dont know what any of this means.

3. women who make annoying food choices (ie, eating pancakes without syrup)

4. women who (even in passing) mention an attraction to someone who I’ve deemed “unredeemable” in my head. (ie. jones, jim or owens, terrell)