I will wash my ass with this soap.

This ain’t funny so don’t you dare laugh, but some men just don’t understand some things that women do. I’m fairly sure I’ve written about this before. I’m also fairly sure that I can’t find the post where I may have done so. So I’m adding to it based on new convos with new ninjas. And this isn’t one of those #womenarecrazy tirades that us menfolks are becoming so famous for. Nope. This is more of a “y’all do this and I truly don’t get it” things. Generalization alert swag.

Generalize deez. Which I’m fairly sure is both a pun AND a possible title for the new movie coming out directed by Spike Lee and written by Tyler Perry and T.D. Jakes. That sh*t cray.

So, back to the lecture at hand. Over the course of my life, I’ve spent a significant amount of time around many many womens. From my various sisters (real spit, I’ve got a lot of sisters, we’re damn near Mormon), to the women I’ve dated, to the daughter that I’m raising that will grow into a woman, I’ve borne witness to many a thing that I just couldn’t quite make sense of. Some of those things that I couldn’t quite make sense of has gotten me in trouble since, well, if I don’t understand it, then I’m inclined not to respect is gangsta and either…you know what…let’s dive in.

LOUGANIS! <—-old school reference like a motherf*cker.

1. Decorative…anything

Pillows. Soap. Bathroom towels. I HATE decorative pillows. Actually, I hate EXCESSIVE amounts of decorative pillows. And it seems that you can only have excessive amounts of decorative pillows. Especially on beds. Why the f*ck does ANYBODY need 15 pillows on a bed. THAT NOBODY WILL SEE BECAUSE NOBODY IS ALLOWED IN THE GROWN FOLKS BEDROOM ANYWAY? Don’t even get me started on decorative soap. Actually, let’s start.

I will use your decorative soap. It’s almost my defiant rebellion against your damn soap that just wants to be used. It’s soap. It needs to be used in order to be validated as soap. If a stripper never claps her ass, is she a stripper? If soap never gets a sud, is it soap? I say no. It’s just a block of glycerin that’s getting laughed at by the Zest and other soaps in the bathroom. Same goes with your monogrammed decorative towels.

Moral of the story: don’t let me use the bathroom with the “nice” sh*t in it.

2. Poofs

I’m talking about those spa shower poof things. Full disclosure: I bought one because 1) a guy I fully respect has one and I figured that if its good enough for that ninja its good enough for me..respect; and 2) I wanted to see what the big deal was with a damn poof. Every woman has one. And I’ve realized that they make no functional sense.

WhatyoutalkinboutPanama?

Glad you asked.

Question: how does one wash their ass if all you use in the shower is your poof? You can’t tell me that you use the poof in your ass and then put it on your face the next go ’round? That’s why ninjas like me wash their washclothes daily. I stay with a stockpile of washclothes for this purpose. But explain to me the poof? I need to know.

I NEED TO KNOW!!

3. Lotion regimens

I’ve brought this up before and even wrote a whole post about it that I’m too lazy to go find, but what is the damn deal with so many lotions and sh*t. (I came in the door) I said it before that I use Palmer’s all day. And I’ve been told that its too heavy for summer time. Yet my skin roars baby. It glistens. And yes those last two sentences are likely 86% gay. But its true. Y’all skin ain’t that much different and the bottoms of many of y’allsis feet STILL could light matches. So what gives with the various regimens that don’t solve whatever problem you’re trying to solve.

I’m on my man sh*t. I need to unnadig.

4. Constant clothes jacking

I could write (and probably will) a whole post about the serious advantages to dating for women and this will make the list: whyfore come y’all STAY stealing our clothes? Look, I get it. You all want our tshirts. One? That makes sense. Two. Okay…you’re getting a little klepto on me but still, I can deal. But when you all clear out our undershirts and we have to go to buy 8-packs for 19.99 of tshirts JUST to have some to wear, well that’s going to f*cking far. What’s up with the outright disrespect for our need to have stuff like wifebeaters (though there ain’t a man alive that doesn’t like seeing a woman in a wifebeater) and tshirts? Why is it that the longer I know you, the less of these things that I have??? This has been consistent since I was 18. What gives womanthieves!?!?!??!?!?

So, ladies…I want answers. Fellas what else do you want to know? And ladies, any questions of us?

-VSB P aka THE ARSONIST aka MR. DO YOU MIND IF I LOTION YOU UP? aka GIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRL HE A 3

Still a bit confused on how this whole points thing works

***This is a revised version of an entry that originally posted three years ago. Enjoy***

In August of 2008, Panama blessed the VSB pulpit with “wlsg,” an entry which provided a definition for “light skinned points”

Light-skinned point(s). noun. 1) the additional attention that fairer skinned light skinned women receive over their darker-skinneded sisters whether or not their face actually warrants any attention at all. 2) the assumed increase in attractiveness laid before melanin deficient black women whether or not their face actually warrants any attention at all.

***For those still unclear about what this means, just think Evelyn Lozada.***

Yet, although this term gets the most mileage, it’s far from the only time black people assign “Points” —  the possession of an attribute or characteristic that makes a person seem much, much, more desirable than they really should be.

Here are 10 more.

1. Dark-Skinned Black Male Points

Single-handedly responsible for the popularity of Wesley Snipes, Taye Diggs, and at least two of them 112 n*ggas.

2. “She looks good for her age” Points

A few years ago, I had a 40-something colleague who all of the older (and younger) male teachers were sweating, as well as a few of the students, who’d always remark “Damn. if she looks like that now, imagine how fine she was at 25″. I agreed, until I saw a 20 year old yearbook picture of her, and was shocked to see that she looked exactly the same. At 25, she looked like a really good looking 47 year old.

3. Poet Points

I originally was going to just make it “Black Male Poet Points” until I remembered that female poets and spoken word performers have their audiences in a certain trance as well. Seriously, if you’re a Black spoken word artist and you still can’t get any kind of romantic rhythm, maybe sex with live humans just isn’t in the cards for you now, or ever

4. Big, ummmm, “Ego” Points

Put it this way: There’s a reason why at least 7 percent of the cats in every hood have never bothered to get driver’s licenses

5. “Good” hair Points

For many black men, the allure of the “good” hair is just as strong if not stronger than the light skinneded points. Seriously, I’ve seen n*ggas do back flips for minotaurs in pumas just because they could imagine playing in their hair

6. “Thick for a White girl” Points

For those who doubt the power of thick for a white girl points, ask any 28 to 40 year old brotha if he’s ever had a prolonged fantasy about big-bootied and strong-faceded Jenny Von Oy.

7. Black Male Blogger Points

Um, moving on…

8. “Shes a well-adjusted freak” Points

Because of the peculiar mammy/madonna/whore complex that affects how the Black community regards our women, orgasmic women who don’t sleep around but actually get great pleasure out of having jungle monkey matrix sex (and aren’t the least bit shy about admitting it) are at a premium, even if looks wise they happen to be more John Kerry than Kerry Washington.

9. Black guy who only dates Black women Points

Um, moving on again…

10. Foreign accent Points

N*ggas love nan’s (non-American nigg*s) with “exotic” accents more than midgets love Ikea. Seriously, if you’re a Black man or Black woman who’s having trouble dating, just barricade yourself in your apartment with tapes of Hugh Grant or Penelope Cruz for a month and practice sounding exactly like them.

That’s it for now.

People of VSB.com, did I miss anything?

Are there any other “points” out there that you’ve seen successfully affect someone’s desirability? Also, do you personally possess any “points” and, have you ever been “influenced” by an otherwise unattractive point haver?

—Damon Young (aka “The Champ”)

Kevin Durant, making his own personal protest for not winning MVP

Earlier in the week, I joked that a degree in Black Studies is about as useless as thumbs on a roach. Now, I obviously wasn’t serious — I wouldn’t be arrogant enough to dismiss an entire field of study (I’ll let Naomi Riley do that) — but I do think that the Black Studies’ curriculum offered at most universities should expand their horizons a bit and include some things we really, really, really need to get to the bottom of, including…

Why won’t Kevin Durant brush his hair?¹

Is it a silent protest for not winning MVP? Do his naps give him power the same way Rick Ross gets his from his areolas? Did he lose a bet with a genie? Is he allergic to brush bristles? Is he actually just the grown up version of Dookie from “The Wire?” Are him and Russell Westbrook having a year-long contest to “out nerd” each other?

Seriously, I’m actually more interested in why Kevin Durant — a man who happens to be the second best basketball player on Earth — has apparently never brushed his hair than I am in any current unsolved mystery, including who really shot JFK, what the hell happened to Lark Voorhies, and what do vegans eat to make their farts smell like the tree frog from “Pan’s Labyrinth?”

Who invented the booty clap?

Look, while I have an active YouTube account, I’m no expert on bootyology. Despite this, I know that ratchet women weren’t clapping their ass cheeks together 15 years ago the way they all seem to be able to now. (Btw, the only way that link is safe for work is if you happen to work at Waffle House)

I concede the possibility that, 15 years ago, I just wasn’t in the type of circles where ass clapping was frequent, but I doubt this to be true. I get the feeling that if there was ass clapping to be found 15 years ago, I would have found it. I have a nose for ass.

Anyway, since all evidence points to the fact that it’s a recent invention, I’m curious to find out who the hell invented it. Very curious. In fact, I’d greatly appreciate it if somehow could put me in contact with her so I can, um, contact her for an interview.

How did we allow a typical hoodrat Puerto Rican from the Bronx become the most popular character on “Black” TV and the symbol for all that’s wrong with Black women?

Clutch’s Kirsten West Savali already touched on this subject much more thoroughly than I plan to, but really Black America? We have a show created by, catering to, and featuring Black women at their most ratchet, and we allowed a Puerto Rican from the Bronx — the freakin Bronx!!! — to hijack it? What’s up with that? 

(Oh, and for those who want to claim that some African ancestry makes her Black, I’m not claiming her ass. I just barely got over the fact that we need to claim Allen West. There’s no way I’m making room at the table for Evelyn too)

Did anyone ever find Toure’s cousin?

A couple years ago, Toure’ — the world’s newest negro ever invented — caught a bit of heat for suggesting that slaves occasionally seduced their masters. When the heat got too hot, he blamed his cousin for hacking into his Twitter account and making those remarks.

It’s been two years since this occurred, and not only has there still been no sign of this cousin, it seems as if we’ve just stopped searching for him. Perhaps he’s hiding in Kevin Durant’s hair.

Anyway, that’s it for me today. Can you think of any other pressing questions/mysteries that we need to get to the bottom of? Also, if anyone has any answers to any of my questions, please let me know.

¹Why do I get the feeling that the real answer to this question is on some uber-sad “He doesn’t brush his hair because he wants to honor the memory of his dead uncle, who was killed while only carrying a hairbrush”-type shit?

—Damon Young (aka “The Champ”)

***Btw, we’re still receiving submissions for Very Smart Singles, but there’s something I wanted to make clear. While it’s true that each single will get a post devoted to them when we publish the profiles, comments will be closed. I repeat, comments will be closed.  While people here generally behave themselves, I wouldn’t let a person put themselves out there to get critiqued and pick apart. People interested in the single will have to email us at contact@verysmartbrothas.com***

I see PRIDE! I see POWER! I SEE A BAD ASS MUDDA WHO DON'T TAKE NO CRAP OFFA NOBODY!!!!

I remember the first time I heard the theory that people are more intimately familiar with who they think they are than who they actually are. Okay, that’s not true at all. I don’t remember when I first heard it, but I do know that when I heard it I immediately said to myself, “self, that’s true”. It makes sense if you think about it. We spend so much time thinking about who we want to be and how we think we come across that reality is like getting slapped in the face with one of Aretha’s areolas, your two ho’s, and a bottle of rum.

With that in mind, over the course of time I’ve come to some conclusions about myself based on what I thought I wanted or who I thought I was and how reality is playing itself out. Some way down like where the signifying monkey used to hang out. Others more shallow than Kim Kardashian in a kiddie pool kickin’ it with two koalas on Koval.

Allons-y.

I thought I wanted to be one of those folks who likes to have deep conversations. It turns out that I want to be one of the people who has deep conversations about ignorant sh*t.

You know Savon from Love Jones? Yeah, I want to be him, except talking about thongs and the importance of Puffy to the fabric of society. But I SO want there to be a drum present. When I buy a house, one of the first things I’m doing is going drum shopping so I can have a truly Black household. All convos will include the drum. I want to talk about how Kool-Aid is truly the key to life and pop culture. I don’t want to talk about important things unless I feel like it. And only on special occasions…like when white people are present. Or in front of Barack Obama, though I’m fairly certain I’d probably talk a little ignant around Obama. The man sings Al Green songs for cripe’s sake. He cool.

I thought I wanted to date women with big hair who had the big hair angst and social justice guilt and conscience who were artsy and blah blah blah. It turns out I just like big hair.

Seems that I couldn’t care about their activism. I just like big hair. Hell, I might actually prefer big haired bougie women. The type with big hair and Coach bags who are as superficial as chicks with perms. I just wanna lay in their hair without the guilt of recycling. Basically, while I love Freddie from A Different World, I’m sure she would have gotten on my last damn nerves when I told her that I thought “Rack City” was empowering to women.

I thought that because I’m a writer and a rapper and an author and talker and because I communicate often I was a good communicator. It turns out that’s not true.

So, despite my uber sharing ass nature, in intimate settings, I can be quite walled off and anti-vulnerable. How’s that for some sh*t that makes no sense. I’m like the Great Communicator Of Useless Information When It Matters Least. I’m Alex Trebek for Dummies. For Relationships.

I thought that majority of my relationships ended because of compatibility issues. It turns out that most of them probably stem from that little communication problem I just shared a few lines ago. No coca-ina.

Now that’s not to say that every relationship that ended didn’t need to end, they probably did. But my inability to communicate properly was probably as culpable for the beginning of the end as any compatibility issue or constant nuisance that I either created or initially found cute but eventually found grating.

I thought that I was one of the few mixed kids who didn’t have an identity issues. It turns out that I do.

Yeah, I can’t decide if I f*ckin’ rock or if I’m f*ckin’ awesome. It’s a conflict that only people of my pedigree can fully appreciate. It’s hard out here for an cool mulatto. Or a culatto.

I often thought that because I was enlightened that I was above certain negativitisms. Turns out my enlightenment helps to inform my ignorance.

This woman cut me off in traffic today. I didn’t call her a b*tch while shaking my fist in my car behind my glass windows. Nope, I called her a wench. Mostly because I like the word and second because I thought calling a woman a b*tch because she’s a woman who pissed me off would make me like every other ignorant man. So wench it was, which I’m fairly certain achieves the EXACT same end as the b-word. I felt bad. But if I didn’t read, I don’t think I’d know the w-word either. Damn you education system for teaching me how to get around general use pejoratives for learned ones! I definitely call ni**as the n-word though.

Anyway, those are some of my self-awarenesses. Sharing is caring people. What you got?

-VSB P aka THE ARSONIST aka MR. STEAL YOUR CURL aka GIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRL HE A 3

"Why are you smiling?" "Just thinking about how lucky you are that I like your cologne."

I’m generally a fan of things Jason Segel has a hand in — “Forgetting Sarah Marshall,” “Knocked Up,” etc — so it didn’t take much convincing for me to go see “The Five-Year Engagement” a few days ago. Without giving any spoilers, I’ll say that I enjoyed it but was somewhat disappointed by the fact that it started to veer into “Whoa. I’ve never seen this relationship situation really addressed in a movie before“ territory — which I greatly appreciated — but then got a bit more Hollywood towards the end.

Now, I understand why movies do tend to inch toward the “Hollywood relationship.” Although we bitch and clamor for realism, we still do generally want to be entertained and feel good at the end, and showing certain types of “real-life” relationships might cause people to enter the theater with buckets of hot buttered Zoloft instead of popcorn.

With this in mind, here are four types of real-life relationships you’ll probably never actually see in a movie

1. The man with the life-long side piece

In one of the most baffling types of real-life arrangements in existence, there are men who  have started and ended multiple relationships but managed to maintain the exact same side chick throughout each one. I guess it makes sense — comfort and consistency are, frankly, the shit — but if that isn’t the most ambitious-less, Everest College-ass relationship shit I’ve ever heard, I don’t know what is.

2. The f*ck buddies who don’t even really like f*cking each other

A couple years ago, a friend told me about an arrangement she had with a guy who’d come through once a week, have a couple glasses of moscato with her, and then would proceed to have terrible, awful, unbearably awkward sex with her. They both hated it — apparently he once fell asleep while she was on top of him, woke up, gave a couple more pumps, and fell back asleep — but this “relationship” continued for a couple months.

Thinking that this friend was an just a sad anomaly of coital despair, I told the story to another friend, who expressed that she also was in a similar arrangement — a full NBA season (seven months) of awful sex. When I asked her why she continued a friends with migrant worker benefits arrangement, she replied “I don’t know. I guess I just liked the way he smelled.”

3. The people only dating because…wait, why the hell are they dating again?

I was actually in a relationship like this a few years ago. We didn’t really like each other all that much, we both knew it wasn’t going to last longer than a year, and, well, did I mention the fact that we didn’t really like each other all that much?

I guess you can say that we stayed together because of the sex, but is it really worth staying in a relationship where both parties give each other a 5.5 to on the “10 point Like Scale” just because you’re sleeping with them four times a week?

It ended after exactly one year, which was maybe 11 months too long.

4. The people who’ve always pined for each other…but die without ever actually getting together

In the movies, these situations usually get resolved with some contrived-ass deferred meet cute that puts them in a situation where they have no choice but to realize that they need to be together.

In real life, though, sometimes these people continue to see each other in passing and at parties and continue to wonder and fantasize, but never actually hook-up — a situation as sad as the thought of Derrick Rose proctoring a PSAT. (Too soon?)

Anyway, people of VSB, can you think of any other types of relationships you’ll never see on screen? Also, if anyone out there has actually been in one of the type of relationships described today, come to #REMINISCEDC Saturday night and either I or Panama will give you a hug (if you’re a woman) or a shot (if you’re a man). Actually, f*ck it. Hugs and shots for everyone!

—Damon Young (aka “The Champ”)

Pic only chosen because I thought it was funny that this image was the first thing to pop up when googling "single black man"

While most will probably remember 2012 as the “Year Of The YOLO” (and by “most” I mean “like seven people“), it holds special significance for me because it’ll likely be the first year since 2002 where I spent the entire year single. I haven’t completed a full calender year yet — May will make it seven months since the former Lady Champ and I decided to go our separate ways — but because I seem to enjoy doing random anthropological experiments on myself for absolutely no reason (and because I’m an INTJ and INTJs apparently suck at relationships), I’m confident that I’ll make it to 2013 without having to change my Facebook relationship status again.

Anyway, if I could sum up my seven months of singledom in one word, it would most likely be “interesting.” I’ve met some “interesting” people, done some “interesting” things, made some “interesting” decisions, and, most importantly, thought some “interesting” thoughts. The most “interesting” of these “interesting” thoughts? Being a single man is kind of overrated.

Now, as I stated on the day where I wrote about orgasms, “overrated” doesn’t mean “bad.” In fact, as the careers of Tupac and Derrick Rose continue to prove, something can be very, very good — even great — and still be overrated. I’ve enjoyed being single, and will likely continue to enjoy it. But, while it seems like many assume that being a single man (a single Black man, at that) is nothing but an utopic stream of easy popsicles, cold pancakes, and syrupy p*ssy, there are a few downsides.

1. It can be very lonely

As a person who wanted to be single, is a natural introvert, and generally enjoys doing things by himself, I’m surprised by how, for lack of a better term, “noticeable” the solitude and loneliness of singledom can be. Even when seeing multiple people and/or having tons of friends, being single means that you are…single, by yourself, and there may be times when you want to have someone around but there will be no one that you want to be around readily available to be around.

Then, to add insult to injury, if you’re an angsty motherf*cker like me, you’ll start thinking things like “Wait. I’m a single man. A single Black man. My dad named me after Dolemite. Shaka Zulu is my second cousin. People who’ve never even met me call me “Champ” for chrissakes. Why the f*ck do I feel lonely right now?” which’ll make it even worse.

2. You have to wear condoms. And, wearing condoms sucks

If you’re one of the 137 people left on Earth who always has protected sex — even if in a long-term, monogamous relationship — just skip this section and move on to #3. Also, I’ve left a plate of gotdamn sugar cookies at the end of this post as a reward for your duty. Please eat them with a gotdamn smile.

If you’re not one of these people, you should be able to relate to how frustrating it’s been to go from condom-less sex to having to worry about having gotdamn condoms all the damn time. And, even if you’re not actively having sex, “Do I have condoms?” and “Since I don’t have condoms, is there somewhere close where I can buy them?” always has to be on your mind.

Also, from a logistical perspective, they’re a hassle to put on, they smell like a pack of slutty balloons, and “sex with condoms” will always be the Mike Conley of coitus.

There is always the alternative — just don’t wear condoms while single, either — but I think one Cromartie per generation is enough.

(Btw, is it just me, or has the price of condoms spiked dramatically in the past four years? I was last single in 2008, and I don’t remember a box of condoms costing as much as it does to fill a gas tank. Does this qualify as a “first world problem?” If a Black blogger bitches about condoms in the woods, would Kanye’s missing draws make a sound?) 

As much as condoms suck, they don’t suck as much as…

3. Having to participate in the dating game

In a paradox so annoying that I almost didn’t mention it today because I plan on spending an entire day on this sole topic soon, I love meeting new, interesting women but I hate the process that usually goes along with meeting new, interesting women.

I understand (and appreciate) the purpose of the process, but knowing why it’s necessary doesn’t mean that you have to enjoy it.

4. The superficial romantic connections synonymous with singledom gets old

Ironically, the best thing about being a single man — possessing the ability to have myriad short, commitment-free relationships AT THE SAME DAMN TIME!!! — ends up being one of the worst after enough time has passed.

This actually hasn’t happened to me yet. I guess I’m still in the single honeymoon phrase. But, I’m certain it will, and the thought of this happening is already depressing me.

Actually, this entire list is getting depressing. ***Making note to self to make sure tomorrow’s post is about the playoffs or strippers or something***

5. You start to realize some, um, “unpositive” things about yourself

I’ve been in three long-term — “long term” = “monogamous relationship lasting at least a year” — relationships as an adult. Each of these relationships failed, and my wanting to be single was the main catalyst behind each of these failures. Now, because I’ve always been a guy who did all the “right on paper” relationship things — I’ve never cheated, never physically or verbally abused any girlfriends, always followed the chivalry handbooks, etc — I’ve always assumed that I’m good at being a partner. But, these last few months have made me realize that I have some real deficiencies in the relationship department — personality quirks that have subtly sabotaged each relationship I’ve been in.

I wouldn’t quite call myself a trojan horse — the sabotage isn’t intentional (at least it’s not consciously intentional) — but I’m just not very good at this relationship thing right now, and I intend to spend the rest of 2012 trying to figure out why.

That’s it for me today. Fellas — single or coupled up — how do you feel about the concept of singledom? Is it all the beer commercials make it out to be, or do you agree that it may be slightly overrated? Also, ladies, are the “single man problems” expressed today at all similar to any “single woman problems?”

—Damon Young (aka “The Champ”)

"Son, I just wanted to show you first hand that there are, in fact, other fish in the sea. Hopefully my ridiculous jeans don't distract you from that point.."

The last couple days of VSB — writing a “fatherly advice” piece for my teenager daughter, and following it up with something for a son the next day — was a plan I’ve had in mind for a while. I thought they’d be pretty well-received and relatively easy to write, and it’s a topic everyone — parent or not — could relate to in some way.

Anyway, with this in mind, I sat down yesterday afternoon ready to write the post about the son, expecting it to be as “easy” as the daughter piece was, but something unexpected happened: It dawned on me that there were actually two completely different sets of dating and relationship tips I could give him:

A) 10 Things I’d Tell My Teenage Son About Women, Dating, Relationships, And Sex If I Want Him To Be Thought Of As A “Nice” Guy, and…

B) 10 Things I’d Tell My Teenage Son About Women, Dating, Relationships, And Sex…If I Want Him To Actually Be Happy

Now, I don’t mean to suggest that you can’t be a nice guy and completely happy at the same time. It’s possible and shit. And, for the sake of the entire community, it’s probably the best way to go. I imagine that cities like Portland and Charlotte are full of happy nice guys, and, if I had a G-IV, I’d definitely fly there whenever I wanted to hit an organic farmer’s market

But, giving my son the same type of “look out for your own self-interests first” type of advice I gave my daughter yesterday — which is what I’m about to do — creates a guy that, while he can still very well be a “good” guy, fathers would probably advise their daughters to avoid. ”Woman dating with her best interests in mind” seems to = “empowered” while “man dating with his best interests in mind” seems to = “asshole.”

Oh well.

1. Do not even entertain the thought of being married or having children until you’re (at least) 34 years old. 

Now, I realize this doesn’t seem like ground-breaking advice. You’ve probably heard the same thing from your mother. But, what makes what I’m saying different is that while your mom wants you to wait until you’re fully mature and ready to be a husband and father and blah, blah, blah, I’m advising you to wait for one reason: Options.

Why 34? If you take advantage of the great genes your mother and I passed on to you and live the life you’re supposed to, by the time you reach that age, you’ll be successful enough to have some sort of social and/or financial status. And, if you take care of your body, you’ll still be youthful enough to really enjoy it. If you accomplish these things, you will have a better and more attractive range of romantic options than you will at any other point in your life. Asking you to wait until then to choose a life partner is me just wanting you to make the most informed choice possible. You don’t want to be the guy who puts all his chips in too early and then gets all unsettled and unhappy when realizing he could have gotten a better deal if he just waited.

I know you like sneakers, so think of it this way. Why shop at Foot Locker when you can drive a few more miles and hit the Nike Outlet instead?

2. The best, and most consistent way to get women to want to sleep and/or be with you? Act like you don’t really care about whether you’re able to sleep and/or be with them.

This may be the most difficult thing on the list to grasp. Even grown men aware of this truth have trouble pulling it off, as doing this is the equivalent of taking a starving man to the Cheesecake Factory and asking him to act like he’s not hungry.

But, as history has proven time and time again, your success with women is usually directly correlated to how unfazed you are by them. Also, the more beautiful the woman, the more you should probably act as if you barely even notice her beauty.

3. During high school or college, there’s a chance you might be attracted to a woman who attempts to coerce you into doing “boyfriend” duties (hanging out, being a confidant, eating salads with her and shit, etc) without any actual boyfriend pluses (sex). Do not fall for this trick.

You may be tempted to think that just hanging around and being the friend will assist you in finally getting some. It will not. The longer you stay around and continue to volunteer to take her panties to the laundromat, the less likely she’ll consider you to be a romantic option.

If you’re not careful, it may even get to the point to where she’ll complain to you about her man problems — in graphic detail, no less — despite the fact that she knows you’ve been pining away like a…pining-ass motherf*cker. If this happens, dead all contact with her, and  also make sure to steal all of her remote controls.

4. First dates should always be fun. And cheap.

This is your opportunity to set the tempo for the entire relationship. It’s also your chance to vet and see if she’s the type of asshole who needs a $90 steak in front of her to have “fun.”

5. There are thousands of reasons why you should always practice safe sex, and I’m sure you’ve heard each of them before. Here’s one I’m pretty sure you haven’t: Playing the pull out game always makes you feel like an idiot.

I’m not going to lie to you. Unprotected sex does feel indescribably better than wearing a condom. No sense in bullshitting you about that. But, the jump in feeling pales in comparison to the prolonged awkwardness you’ll feel when going raw, pulling out at the last moment, wondering if you pulled out in time, wondering how the hell you managed to cum on her knee, pausing this intimate moment to perform post-coital clean up, wondering if you pulled out in time (again), getting back in bed after the clean up and finding out the hard way that you didn’t do a very thorough clean up job, and feeling bad because you’ll start asking yourself if you’re too damn old to playing the gotdamn pull-out game.

6. Only sleep with women who have something to lose.

Hoodrats and hoochies can (definitely) be sexy, but 5 to 25 minutes of pleasure isn’t worth the considerable potential downside if things go down hill. Basically, never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever have casual sex with a woman who’d consider it the best day of her life (and the lives of everyone in her family, including her son) if you happened to get her pregnant.

7. The grass is never greener.

Although all women have their own personal quirks and idiosyncrasies to go along with some physical differences, there isn’t much variance about what makes them them. Seriously, if you took 100 random men from Jakarta and 100 random guys from Jacksonville and asked them to list the 10 things that most annoy them about their wives, the lists would look exactly the same.

I’m bringing this up because there may be a point in one of your relationships where you experience a bit of malaise and start fantasizing about how things would be with someone else. When this happens, remember that a relationship with whoever you’re fantasizing about will eventually reach the malaise stage too.

This leaves you with two options

A) End relationships as soon as they leave the honeymoon stage (not the best option)

B) Make sure you commit to the right person so that your love for and attraction to her will help you deal with the inevitable “meh” period (the best option)

8. Smell good.

I didn’t pay much attention in the anatomy and physiology course I took my freshman year in high school, and the way women respond to a guy who smells good definitely makes me think that I must have fallen asleep on the day they explained that a woman’s nose is directly connected to her vagina.

9. It may not seem this way when it happens, but breaking up with a woman can be one of the kindest things you can do as an adult

Look, while we can dick around until we’re in our 40′s and still end up finding a wife and building a family, (generally speaking) women just don’t have that same luxury. If you’re in a situation where you know things probably aren’t going any further and she’s at an age where she’s expecting them to, end it. Shit, even if it’s a good relationship, end it.

You’ll both feel like shit for a while, but you both will eventually get over it and realize it was in both of your best interests.

10. From now until the day you die, your penis will be fighting a never-ending battle with your brain to see who will lord over your body, your decision making, your choices, and your future. You cannot let your penis win, but you also cannot let anyone shame you into feeling bad for being a man. 

This will not be an easy task. Your penis is tricky, dastardly, diabolical, deceiving, deceptive, and indefatigable. Basically, you know how Dick Cheney kind of looks like a penis? Well, imagine that your dick is Dick.

Thing is — and this is very important to note — I’m not asking you to suppress or ignore your sexual urges. They are not bad. In fact, they are very good. Just don’t be the guy who allows those urges to completely dominate everything he does.

That’s enough for me today. Did I forget anything? Also, people of VSB.com, what advice would you give to your teenage sons?

—Damon Young (aka “The Champ”)

Repeat after me honey "If he doesn't pay for dinner, that n*gga aint a winner"

You know, I’m not a dad yet, but I might be one day. If this day comes, there’s a 50/50 chance that my child will be a daughter, and I will do everything in my power to protect, love, and educate this girl. But, if she decides to cite a hug I didn’t give her in 2018 as the reason why she can’t find love in 2038, I’ll have one message for her: F*ck you

 

This disturbingly candid (or, would “candidly disturbing” work better?) example of the type of parent I’m probably going to be is the last paragraph of “Why “Daddy Issues” Don’t Really Exist” — an old entry where I argue that if every strange thing a woman does can be explained away with “daddy issues,” then perhaps they don’t exist. And, while “please don’t blame a hug you didn’t get in 2018 for your relationship issues in 2038” is definitely sage advice, I don’t think that’s quite enough.

Today, I’ve decided to share nine more bits of fatherly advice I’d give my (non-existent) teenager daughter if she actually decides to exist one day

2. Just assume that every man you meet from now until you’re, I don’t know, 53(?) would sleep with you if given the opportunity

This doesn’t mean that every man you meet is going to try to. This also doesn’t mean that sleeping with you is all any man is ever going to want from you. There will be men who’d give their left testicle just for five minutes of your time. Men who’d build a bridge across Lake Michigan if that’s what it took to you see you. Men who will want to debate you, make fun of you, hear your opinions about “Amistad” and Meek Mill, build houses for you, sit in silence with you, lay next to you, travel with you, learn from you, teach you, learn about you, take you to IKEA, and grow old with you. But, the man wanting to sleep with you is the foundation for all of that, and you’d be wise never to forget that.

Shit, as much as I love your mother, you wouldn’t be here today if I didn’t want to tear her clothes off the first time I saw her at the Ole Country Buffet hovering over a plate of steamed broccoli while her thong was peaking out ever so slightly from her two toned silver vintage stretch pants church.

3. When in doubt, break up

Relationship drama is for grown ups. And by “grown-ups” I mean “old motherf*ckers.” If you’re 23 years old, and you and your boyfriend are going through some serious adversity, break the f*ck up with him. No need to be “working through” anything if you’re still not even old enough to serve in the House of Representatives.

I know this seems cold, but your youth should be the time when you’re having as much fun as you possibly can, not losing sleep because some janky negro with lint on his lips is going through some depression and you don’t know how to help him. You really want to know the best way to get through to him? Say “deuces” and let him figure that shit out for himself while you’re at Outback Steakhouse with that cute guy you met at the swap meet last weekend.

4. Learn how to ***insert word that rhymes with “pastorgate”***

I’m telling you this now because you’ll likely be a much happier person if you’re able to, um, “make yourself happy” without the assistance of others. If you need more details, you should probably go ask your mom. Or one of your white classmates.

5. Eat your vegetables

I hate (most) vegetables, but your mom seems to love them. Since your mom is banging — and since banging women have (somewhat) easier lives — I’d suggest you start emulating her. Eat your veggies and shit.

6. When in dating doubt, always err on the side of making things harder for the guy

He needs to convince you that he’s worthy of being in your life, not the other way around.

7. When in relationship doubt, err on the side of making things easier

You have carte blanche to be a bit of an asshole while you’re single and dating. In fact, I encourage it. Once a guy has proven himself worthy and ‘won” you, though, you can start buying him gum and shit.

8. I know I’m your father and you love me and shit, but don’t try to date men like me

I’m an awkward asshole who only tricked your mother into marrying me because I told her the Sultan of Brunei is my second cousin on my dad’s side. Your best strategy would be to avoid all assholes, awkward and, um, unawkward, regardless of how attractive and “unique” they seem to be. You can usually easily spot them, too. They’re the ones who intrigue you and make you feel a little tingly because they literally do not give a f*ck about you or anything you do.

I actually don’t expect you to follow this advice, but if you did it would save you a shitload of unnecessary heartache.

9. Throughout life, you’re going to meet women who say things like “I never really got along with other women.” Avoid these women the same way Antonio Cromartie avoids condoms. 

10. Throughout life, you’re going to meet men who say things like “I’m not like every other guy.” If you happen across a man like this, kick him in the nuts. 

If he screams, he’s exactly like every other guy. If he doesn’t, he’s obviously a eunuch, and might actually be telling the truth.

That’s enough for me today. Did I forget anything? Also, people of VSB.com, what advice would you give to your teenage daughters?

—Damon Young (aka “The Champ”)

Poppycock. Jay-Z didn’t kill T-Pain’s career. Changing musical tastes did. Jay-Z just made the right song at the right time to take credit for the demise. Think about this. T-Pain came onto the scene in 2005 with both “I’m Sprung” and “I’m In Luv (With A Stripper)”. For FOUR solid years T-Pain was EVERYWHERE on radio. “D.O.A” didn’t even come out until the second half of 2009 well after T-Pain was already on the decline; fact is, that’s a long time to sell karaoke for anybody. Yet, Jay-Z is awarded the victory for murking auto-tune and simultaneously T-Pain’s livelihood (though Mr. Pinnedherazzdown did release and sell albums since then, just not nearly as successfully as his 2005-2008 run). And it’s a false victory. Jay-Z just put the stamp on public opinion. Period.

And in contrast, 50 Cent absolutely did murder Ja Rule’s career. I’ll bet Ja has been constructing a voodoo doll in 50′s likeness since the moment he went to jail.

But Jay-Z killing auto-tune (1) is first up in the line of not quite victories wrongly decided by public opinion.

Here are a few others.

2. LL Cool J besting Canibus in their “battle”

Make no mistake, Bus’ “2nd Round Knockout” was by far leagues better than LL Cool J’s response record “The Ripper Strikes Back”. Canibus lost OVERALL because his career sucked. First he blamed Wyclef for creating the the dismal Can-I-Bus album, which was actually terrible. After that travashamockery, people kind of assumed that because Canibus career sucked despite his abilities, that LL Cool J – who has released more clunkers of albums than dope ones, let’s be real – couldn’t possibly have lost. Even now I’ve got somebody telling me that LL won that battle. He did not. But the people spoke and it was so. Even if it wasn’t.

3. Jay-Z vs Nas

Look, I liked “Ether”, the sheer venom in it made it a worthwhile listen. And it was the resurrection of Nasty. For that I’m happy. But the ONLY reason Jay “lost” that battle (he didn’t) was because he released “Super Ugly” and then tried to take it back. John Coffey. That’s the ONLY reason. “The Takeover” is SUCH a better song overall. And Jay didn’t resort to rote disses like “you’re gay” and “you suck” blah blah blah…he hit Nas where it hurt…with facts. And with only one vesre. But because “Super Ugly” comes out and people were happy to hear Nas so inspired, Jay “lost” that battle to Nas. Never happened.

4. The NAACP versus The n-word

Oh wait…the NAACP didn’t win did it, public opinion or otherwise. My bad. Those n-words were trippin.

5. The McRib’s existence vs common sense

Look, there is no motherf*cking reason why The McRib should exist. I’m fairly certain that even the marketing staff at McDonald’s is baffled by this one. But for some reason, despite the fact that its 1) not a rib; 2) is mystery meat; and 3) comes with pickles and onions; every time they drop the McRib, people lose their sh*t and buy them at an alarming rate making health care practioners who run HMOs happy. So somehow, the McRib continues its reign of terror on our arteries (kind of like the Baconator) because the people have created a false sense of demand for a product that nobody in their right mind needs. See also: The McGriddle. If McDonald’s isn’t the devil, then I don’t know what is. But the McRib stays around anyway. Because we have willed it so. Shame on you.

Alright, those are a few examples of false victories decided by the court of public opinion. What else do you have? VSB, let’s call out the fakers, posers, and bullishers.

And yes…I fully expect to get a gang of comments disagreeing about Jay vs. Nas. You may disagree with me. You will be wrong.

WHAT!

-VSB P aka THE ARSONIST aka MR. DO YOU WANT A VICTORY! aka GIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRL HE A 3

Although I still maintain that Black movies can and should do better, I definitely don’t think all is lost with Black cinema. In fact, along with the quotable classics such as “Do The Right Thing,” “Coming to America” and “Love Jones,” there are quite a few (relatively) recent Black movies whose quality and “unforgettableness” has been overlooked to the point where you can justifiably call them underrated.

Here’s five of them.

(Also, before I continue, let me clarify what I mean by “underrated.” You won’t see movies like “Ghostdog” and “Fresh” on this list because, while not many people have seen them, most of the people who have actually seen them think pretty highly of them. The flicks I’m mentioning today have been seen by many, but just aren’t rated as high as they should be.)

“Drumline”

This movie had a very great chance at being shitty. In fact, I remember specifically not seeing this in the theater because I literally said “This movie will very likely be very shitty” when I first saw the trailer and realized that it was starring…Nick Cannon.

Now — and I will definitely devote an entire day to this topic at one point — is there another person in Black culture whose level of cultural (dis)respect is so vastly mismatched with his actual production? Seriously, Nick Cannon has been legitimately successful in everything he’s done, and has helped launch the careers of numerous actors and comedians, and has been with some of the most fantasized-about women in the world, but he still doesn’t get the type of love that his success should warrant. Seriously, Nick Cannon is the reason why this movie doesn’t get the props it should, which is crazy because he’s the main reason why it deserves props!

Anyway, I (obviously) finally got around to seeing it. And, aside from the fact that they cast a 49 year old actor as a college senior, everything about this movie works. The band scenes are cool. The story line is believable. Zoe Saldana and Nick Cannon had genuine chemistry. Shit, they even brought Jason Weaver back from wherever the hell Jason Weaver hangs out when he’s not making movies about drummers.

“Life”

This movie was extremely funny, had a great cast (Seriously, take a minute and go look at its IMDB page), and had a few signature/quotable scenes. (My favorite? The Boom Boom Room bit)

So, with all of this in place, why don’t people talk about it more? Three words: The ending sucked. Now, it wasn’t just the ending that sucked, but the fact that we knew Eddie and Martin were innocent and we still had to watch them stay in prison for 50 years. At first, the whole wrongly convicted thing was funny, but after about an hour or so you can’t help but wonder when the hell they’re going to get out of prison. It would have been a much better movie if they let them go to the major leagues with Bokeem Woodbine and followed their hijinks there.

“Undercover Brother”

Let’s just say that any movie where Dave Chappelle is only the 5th or 6th funniest person in it definitely deserves a shitload of love.

“Hoodlum”

Let’s forget for a minute that Vanessa Williams’ and Larry Fishburne’s romance took up waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay too much screen time and was about as compelling as a Mitt Romney mixtape. Let’s also forget that Andy Garcia definitely was definitely given a suitcase full of 20 dollar bills to be in this movie. In fact, let’s even forget about the fact that, to be quite honest, the movie wasn’t really that good.

What made “Hoodlum” memorable was the fact that the actors — Tim Roth and Chi McBride, specifically — clearly had fun with their characters, and this made the movie pretty enjoyable. You could even tell that Cicely Tyson probably hadn’t had that much fun since those crazy-ass loft parties Frederick Douglass used to throw.

“Deep Cover”

This movie is largely (and understandably) forgotten about because it was released in that 1989 to 1992 period where heavyweights such as “Do The Right Thing,” “Boyz in The Hood,” “X,” “New Jack City,” “Menace to Society,” “Juice,” and “Boomerang” were made. (Wow. Look at that lineup again. All released within a 30 month span)

Still, this movie is definitely entertaining, and so rewatchable that they decided to remake it 7 years later and call it “In Too Deep.”

Anyway, people of VSB, did I forget anything? Can you name any other underrated Black movies you’d add to the list?

—Damon Young (aka “The Champ”)

***For all the folks in the DC area, this Saturday, April 7, from 930pm-3am at Liv Nightclub (11th and U Street, NW) is another edition of #REMINISCE, the party dedicated to all 90s everything brought to you by VSB, Shine On Me, and Just Cause Events. It’s FREE BEFORE 11 w/RSVP (reminiscedc.eventbrite.com), a Courvoisier sponosred open bar from 930-1030pm, and no dress code! It’s cheaper to come out and party. Last month’s party was OFF THE HINGES! Somebody shook my hand when they left and just said, “Thanks P, for throwing this party…” <—- not lying. So come and make it do what it do this Saturday at Reminisce!***