Black Jesus Returns


     Brad was traipsing along one day, absentmindedly checking his phone when he scrolled across some distressing news!!!

     “Maaan, they made Ariel black?! That’s bullshit!!!”, he exclaimed loudly to no one in particular. “God damned social justice warrior bullshit! Fucking snowflakes! Jesus Chri…”, and before he could even finish that sentence, the sky opened up and a beam of light shone down from on high and on that beam was the Lord Savior, Jesus Christ of Nazareth, motherfuckers!!!

     Jesus was resplendent in his simple robes and his dope Nike sandals. “You called, bruh?” Brad was shocked. He wasn’t shocked because he was standing in the presence of God, he was shocked because Jesus was as brown as dark stained wood with a curly fro that was the most perfect he’s ever seen. “Wha…who are you?” “I’m Jesus, my dude! Why you trippin’ about a fictional character?” Jesus was curious to hear Brad’s answer. “Wait, Jesus is white! You’re blaspheming!!” Brad retorted. Jesus gets this a lot. “Naw, homey. Why would you expect someone born in the Middle East, in what is modern day Israel, to be Caucasian? How many crackas you know from there?”

     “I don’t believe you. You’re just fucking around! Wentworth? Is that you, dude? Blackface is wrong, guy!” Brad chuckled like someone who didn’t really think blackface is wrong. Jesus saw through his lie. “Fuck you, Brad. I’ve seen your Facebook profile. Those party pictures lead me to believe you love blackface. Blackface IS wrong, by the way.” Brad was offended. “Jesus doesn’t curse!! My profile is set to friends only!!!” Brad has begun to sweat ever so slightly, as if he is being judged, and he isn’t sure he’s getting a good score so far. Jesus noted his discomfort, and got up to his neck in Brad’s ass. “FUCK YOU, BRAD. I’M JESUS, MOTHERFUCKER. I CAN DO WHATEVER I DAMN WELL PLEASE!”, Jesus said, his voice echoed, booming with the deepness of James Earl Jones and the swagger of Samuel L. Jackson. He calmed himself and continued. “Now, why you drinking so much Hater-aid? You done given yo self haterbetes!!! 

     Brad chose his words carefully. “Uh, well, cause she’s always been white. It’s integral to the character.” Jesus’ dark eyes rolled until you could see the whites clearly. “Brad, she’s fictional half fish, half human. Her color ain’t got shit to do with anything. Now, if she was say, Black Panther or someone playing Martin Luther King Jr., then sure, color would be integral to the character. This is not one of those situations.” Brad decided to get brave. “Hollywood and other people are just doing diversity for the sake of diversity!!! Women and woke snowflakes are ruining it!”

     Jesus got out his golden pic, which he did when he was really trying to make a point, puffed out his magical afro, then spoke. “So, let me get this straight. The Caucasian man has been overwhelmingly represented in all forms of media, history, and religion forever. You have played people of color such as African and native Americans and portrayed them as racist stereotypes mind you. You have forced your religion on people who were happy as they were. You have written history books in your own image making the white man the hero when, much of the time, they were the villain. You continue trying to hide behind the law to try and force your religious and moral views on women who are quite content and capable of making decisions about their own bodies. You blame your inability to find jobs on brown immigrants who are, without complaint, doing the jobs you refuse to do then in the same breath you call them lazy criminals who are a burden on the system. You are born with a built in opportunity to receive every privilege there is, yet you are pissy and moany about everything! I have a theory: Maaaaaaaaybe you feel threatened that your majority and self granted, in your mind superiority is quickly eroding. By 2050, white people will not only be a physical minority, but a vocal one. If you want to cry ’bout that go ahead. Your fate was sealed over 250 years ago when slave massa couldn’t keep his white cockship Enterprise out of all those black holes. Your people have enslaved and subjugated just about every non-white race on Earth and even some of your own people!!! So….YOU DON’T GET TO BITCH ABOUT A GOD DAMNED FICTIONAL MERMAID’S COLOR….NIGGGGGA.”

     Lightning struck close-by with a rolling rumble of deep, bone rattling thunder as if for emphasis. “Ooops, sorry Dad! I forget every time.”

     Brad listened this supposed Jesus’ rant and doubled down on stupidity. You never ever double down on stupidity. “I’m just saying white men are under attack for no reason. All this #MeToo shit and social justice agenda has me not knowing how to act is all I’m saying.” Jesus had it. “YOU DON’T ACT LIKE AN ENTITLED, MISOGYNISTIC, SEXUALLY ASSAULTING, RACIST DOUCHEBAG!!! You know what?” Jesus cracked his knuckles, “You gon learn today!!! BLACKNESS!!!!”, Jesus intoned, and there was a dark cloud that began to swirl around Brad. His skin began to turn the color of dark chocolate, his naturally wavy blonde hair curled up tightly and became like black wool, and he grew 4 solid inches….in height. “There, now you black!!! Now you will know all about how minorities live their lives in fear.”

     Brad, now black as a windowless room with the lights turned off, continued his run towards the stupidity hall of fame. “Oooooh, can I say nigga, now?” As soon as the word left his mouth a police cruiser pulled up and flashed it’s lights. WOOP WOOP! The officer got out of the car. “Hey, you live around here? Let me see your ID.” Brad had never been stopped walking before. “Of course. Sorry, officer, I was talking to Jesus here….?” Jesus had faded away like a sweet jumper and was nowhere to be found. “Jesus, huh?”, the officer said, obviously unconvinced. “Is Jesus one of your mexican gangbanging homies?” Brad was still approaching the situation as if he was white. “No, officer. Why are you stopping me? I’ve done nothing wrong. Why do you need to see my license?!”

     Now the cop was getting riled. “Look, boy, don’t question me when I ask you to do something!!! Show me your FUCKING LICENSE!!!” Brad relented, still giving attitude. “Fine! Calm down. Here is my license.” Brad hands the cop his license. The cop takes it and looks at it with a puzzled look on his face. “Is this a fucking joke? Whose license is this?!” “Mine!”, Brad chirped, his voice betraying the fact that he just now remembered that Jesus turned him black but his driver’s license still shows a white dude’s photo. Things are not going well. “I mean, uh, Jesus turned me black, but I promise that’s me. officer!” The cop remained highly skeptical. “Are you one of those crazies? Too much of the crack cocaine, boy?!!! Huh?!” The cop reached for his radio to call dispatch to prepare for an ambulance to take Brad to a hospital for psych eval. Brad’s heart was in his throat. Why was this happening? He moved towards the officer to explain…

     “DON’T YOU TAKE ANOTHER STEP, MOTHERFUCKER, OR I’LL FUCKING DROP YOU!!!”, the officer screamed as he pulled his service weapon from its holster and trained it on Brad. “WOAH!! PLEASE DON’T SHOOT, MAN!!! I DON’T WANT TO DIE!!!”, Brad cried as he covered his face and curled up in total crippling fear. Just then there was another lightning crack and thunder roil. Brad looked up at the officer and in his place was Jesus, picking out his ‘fro again, laughing. “Hahahahahaha, you should have seen your face, Brad! You went ashy as fuck, dude!” Jesus pulled a fat joint from the nether, lit it, and took a long drag. Brad stood up and dusted himself off. He looked at his hand and noticed it was white again. He was white again!!! “Jesus….”, Brad started, but Jesus interrupted. “That’s Black Jesus, bitch. You give a shit about a white mermaid princess now?”

     Brad, shaken and thankful to be alive and returned to his normal state, measured his words and spoke, “I mean, making her black is just pandering to the PC left media….” BOOM!!!!! There was a bright flash of light! When it subsided, Brad was gone. There was nothing but a pile of ash next to a pair of smoking boat shoes. Jesus got on the radio in the cruiser. “Yeah, Uncle Beezy? What up, my smokey nigga?!!! I got another one for Hitler’s work detail.”

     Thank you for reading. I am rusty and this was meh, but it’s a story. I have been promising forever to do more stories. Now that I have a new gifted laptop, there will certainly be more of my satire and twisted sense of humor.

Sincerely,

The Geekfather

July 12th, 2017, Motherfucker!!!


There are many dates throughout our lives that we remember for whatever reason, good or bad. The title of this blog is the date on which my life and its course changed irrevocably.  Up until July 12th, my life was difficult but it was what I was accustomed to. You see, I have congenital congestive heart failure, Left ventricular to be more specific. I have had it for 20 years and became accustomed to the limitations it put onto my life, which were some, but not many. Then I developed chronic kidney disease, which comes with the heart failure territory, sooner or later. I thought, “Ok, this is just another issue to adapt to. No biggie.” Medications kept my fluids in check and my kidneys, though compromised, still did the job they were designed by biology to do. I did most of the things other people my age did, but mostly, I drank. 

 

July 12th, 2017 was probably the worst day of my life, other than my parents’ deaths. Many days before, I was preparing to celebrate my 42nd birthday, ‘Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy’ style. This was going to be the year of 42!!!! The answer to the question: Life, the Universe, and Everything. It was going to be grand. It started slowly with slight weight gain, which I just brushed off, then it progressed to a feeling of fullness, lethargy, and ultimately, extreme nausea and a loss of appetite. This was on my birthday. I remember not wanting to see my birthday movie, ‘Spiderman: Homecoming’, but you see, I have this character flaw wherein I feel great panic if I think I am disappointing people, especially my friends. So I pulled it together and went to the movie. It was a great movie, of course, but I couldn’t truly enjoy it in my condition. I was stubborn. I thought it was just a stomach bug and it would pass. I let this ordeal continue far longer than it should have. Maybe I truly, deep down realized what was happening, but I did not want to admit it. Admitting it made it true, you see. I didn’t want to admit my fear that I was in kidney failure, again.

 

After a few instances of almost passing out, I drove my stupidly difficult self to the emergency room. It was July 8th, I believe. I don’t specifically remember. They told me I was fluid overloaded. This was something that has happened before so I knew the drill; Intravenous diuretics to help my kidneys eliminate the excess fluids. Only this time, nothing was happening. NOTHING. I wasn’t urinating. I should have been pissing buckets. I was getting really scared. “What if this time was different? What if my kidneys were done?” On July 12th, that question was answered. My nephrologist at the time was a nice man named Larry Davis. Although he was nice, he was a matter of fact type of guy. He came in my room and broke the news to me: I had developed ESRD. End stage renal disease. This was it. I was always afraid of dialysis, but thought, “That’ll never be me.” Well, now it was me. I thought my life was done. Therapy three times a week forever, or I would die. This news was like being hit with a wrecking ball. It altered my life, but I wasn’t aware of that yet.

 

As I lay in my hospital bed, hooked to a large machine cycling my blood out, cleaning it, then cycling it back in, I was hit with all the things I believed I could no longer do. Drink, smoke weed (I really miss that one), urinate. You’d be surprised how much you miss peeing until you can no longer do it, cause sometimes you just need a really good piss, amirite?! I was under the impression that even though I had advanced heart failure and a newly minted diagnosis of ESRD, I could still work full time. My body made it abundantly clear that that was complete crazy talk. Who listens to crazy talk?! No one, that’s who! So I dragged my body through each day, struggling more and more. The work days after dialysis treatments were especially challenging. Challenging like climbing Mount Everest without supplemental oxygen. That means it was super hard and sucked super bad, just saying. I had filed for social security disability and Medicare coverage. I was counting the days until I was approved, then I would quit magnificently like Scarface from Half Baked.

 

Then October 17th came and my illusion came crashing in. I was denied disability because I was still earning too much money. So, the decision was made. I had to quit my job. What a scary thing to do! It had to be done, cause to get help, the government wants you to be completely destitute. Who needs to pay bills or have a roof over their head while the government takes 4 to 6 months to review your case? That’s just plain nonsense. Being homeless is so underrated!!!  So as of right now, I wait, praying that my meager 401k and driving Uber and Lyft part-time can sustain me until my benefits kick in. I would work full time, but I have an earnings limit of $1160 a month. That’s not even $300 a week. I’m on the razor’s edge here. I’ve crossed over from the safe zone into the danger zone. I’m riding the lightning. I am in uncharted territory and I am terrified. Change is difficult for me. This whole process has been difficult. There have been multiple emotional breakdowns and I imagine there will be many more.

 

 

New normal is a motherfucker.

Teenage Mutant Ninjacking Turtle!


*DISCLAIMER* THIS IS YOUR ONLY WARNING. YOU WON’T LOOK AT NINJA TURTLES THE SAME IF YOU READ THIS. IF YOU CHOSE TO CONTINUE, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. YOU’LL EITHER LAUGH YOUR ASS OFF OR NEVER COME HERE AGAIN.

 

 

 

 

Michelangelo was in his room relaxing after yet another tough street fight with the Foot Clan. He and his brothers fought Shredder and tore him a new turtlehole as usual. He retreated like a punk bitch as usual. While on the way home, Rocksteady and Beebop thought they could take advantage of the situation, but those fools got schooled too.
“No chance.” Mikey mumbled out loud to himself. Mikey was so awesome during that fight, literally yelling out “I’m righteous wicked, dude!!!!” He was chilling out waiting for the pizza guy to show (why they allow the pizza guy to see their hidden underground lair was beyond him) when his thoughts drifted to April O’Neil, the crack field reporter. She was always there on the scene, getting footage of them, helping in their fight, and inevitably needing their protection. His room was adorned with a disturbing amount of pictures of her, especially involving her ample breasts.
Mikey realized his little turtle was out of its shell. He was a teenager and the hormones were strong, even more so enhanced by the green radioactive ooze. Daredevil went blind and got enhanced senses and sonar, while all Mikey got was becoming a teenage mutant ninja turtle that got the most inappropriate monster boners. Right now was one of those times. “I got time before the pizza gets here! I can’t deny the TURTLE POWER!!!!!”
He found himself staring at all his April pictures on his wall like a horny teenager…who happens to be a six foot seven, 450lb turtle. Leo, Raph, and Donnie all thought he was crazy for being hot for a human woman. Raph was always saying “Turtles can’t bone people, ya numbskull!!! There are laws!” Well, he was a dreamer! Those titties of hers were always straining against her stupid yellow jumpsuit. “How many of those fucking things does she own?” Mikey thought to himself. Those thoughts led him to pull out “The Box” under his bed. The one that had the ‘more adult’ stuff he had of hers, which included a pair of her panties. Mikey had lifted a pair from her dresser when they were scouting her apartment after they first met her. Raph said it was to make sure she was “Cool n’ shit.” The panties were yellow. All of her panties were yellow. “What’s her deal with yellow, anyway?” He figured she wouldn’t miss a pair.
“Oh, April, let me help you out your jumpsuit…oh what I’m going to do to you…” Mikey was now in full furious stroke when April burst into his room..
“MIKEY!!! WE GOT A LEAD ON…..HOLY SHIT, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!!!!” April was mortified.
Mikey recoiled in shock and embarrassment. He fumbled with her panties and was trying to put his monster back in the shell.
“THE FUCK, MIKEY?! HOW DID YOU GET A PAIR OF MY PANTIES?! WHY WERE YOU MASTURBATING WITH THEM? GOD, WHY DOES YOUR PENIS LOOK LIKE THAT ALIEN GOO SNAKE FROM ‘PROMETHEUS’?! Even in absolute horrific shock, April still asked a ton of questions.
Mikey paused, still holding her yellow panties, “Uhhhh, what answer would get you to not tell Master Splinter about this? I mean, I borrowed a pair from your dresser when we were scoping your pad, dude. They were all yellow! I didn’t think you’d miss one pair! As for my penis, I’m a turtle. I have a turtle dick. You ever see a turtle dick?”
“NOOOOOOO!!!!! EWWWW!!!! WHY WOULD I LOOK FOR TURTLE DICK ON THE INTERNET?!” April was fuming now
“Curiosity? Once you go green…..”
“AHHHHGGGGHHH!!!! NOOO!!! THOSE WERE MY FAVORITE PAIR!!!! April interrupted.
Mikey was puzzled. “How can you tell?”
“I…JUST KNOW! DON’T JUDGE ME!!! MASTER SPLINTER!!!!! COME HERE!!!” The judgment in April’s eyes was unmistakable. Her eyes narrowed. “You’re so busted.”
Master Splinter appeared as if out of nowhere into the doorway, looking very grim and serious as always. “What….is the problem, my dear April?”
“I caught MICHELANGELO plaaaaaaying with himself while fondling and sniffing my panties!!!”
Splinter looked away from April and directly at a very guilty Mikey. “Yes….your favorite yellow ones…” Splinter whispered softly to himself with a wistful glint in his eye.
April shot a glare at Splinter. “What?!” Splinter recovered like a ninjitsu  master. “Oh, nothing, nothing.” Splinter rose, back straight, “MICHELANGELO!!!!! YOU HAVE BROUGHT SHAME UPON THIS HOUSE!!! APOLOGIZE AT ONCE FOR YOUR DEVIANT BEHAVIOR!!!!”
Mikey was still trying to shrink his boner now hidden under his Incredible Hulk bed sheets. He was still staring at her breasts, which seemed to heave to and fro and almost throb on their own. How did her top remain closed. It was like she was wearing a smedium on purpose. “I’m sorry, April. I hadn’t ever planned for you to catch me ninjacking…”
“LOOK AT HER EYES!!!!” Splinter commanded. He was staring at her chest too, but he was better at hiding it. He missed being a human at times like this so much. Mikey raised his eyes to meet April’s. “I’m sorry. Do….you…want your panties back, dude?”
“EWWW, NOOOO!!!! BURN THOSE!!!!” April yelled. Then, composing herself, said more calmly “It is ok, I GUESS. Just…give me a lot of space. I don’t want to see you near my stuff again!”
Mikey looked over at Splinter, who returned his gaze with a look of stern disapproval. The stare burned through Mikey’s soul. “Ok.” Mikey said with the tone of a child who disappointed his parent.
“April, I apologize for my student’s actions. I will reprimand him accordingly. He will learn his lesson well.” Splinter was shrunken now in his standard slumped posture, as if asking for April’s forgiveness.
“Good! I’m…going to go now and pretend I never had this experience.I don’t know why I thought a turtle dick would look like a human dick.I need a drink.” The words trailed off as she rushed out the door.
Splinter stared at Mikey for what seemed like a 1,000 years before he finally spoke. “Michelangelo, what is the lesson to learn from this?”
Mikey thought hard for a moment then offered his answer, “Don’t masturbate, Master Splinter?”
“NO!!!” Splinter bellowed. “LOCK. YOUR. DOOR.” Splinter looked at him more softly now. “Now, put away your weapon and wash your hands. The pizza is here. Don’t touch mine, please.”

Acts of A God Aren’t Covered.


Vincent was listening to the All My Friends are Right Here Podcast like he usually does on slow nights when the call came in. The call was from a number in Metropolis.

Fuck, he loved these calls.

Vince: “LuthorCorp Mutual, this is Vincent, how can I help you this evening?”

The caller sounded apprehensive and a more than a little shaken. “H..h..hello, my name is Joe. I’d like to file a claim.”

“Okay, Joe, I can help you with that. I did a search by your phone number and see that you’ve had claims before?” Vincent knew he did, but he liked to hear these people moan about Superman dropping a building on their car or Batman crashing through their living room and having a fistfight with 20 other strange dudes. It always made his night.

Joe knew Vincent was looking at his long history of filed claims. Joe has the misfortune of living downtown in a rent controlled high-rise…right next to The Daily Planet. He routinely had Superman on his roof as well as the rest of the Justice League using it as a “rally point”. He could literally hear them on his roof going on about “justice” and “vengeance”. Superman was always, “But truth, the American Way, guys!!!” Joe always thought that dude was a total pussy,

“Yes, I have. I don’t want to talk about those.” Joe felt it coming….

“HOLY SHIT, SUPERMAN THREW YOUR CAR AT DARKSEID?! MAN THAT MUST HAVE BEEN AWESOME!!!!!” Vincent said with a joyous tone.

“No, guy, it wasn’t! I had just bought that car. I saved up for years to get that car! He could have picked up the dump truck right next to it, but it’s like that asshole picked my car specifically. You guys didn’t pay that claim!!! I was out thousands! My credit score tanked!” Joe was seeing where this was going.

Vincent, hiding the glee in his voice, said, in a very professional manner, “Well, yes, we cover acts of God, not acts of A god. You understand, don’t you?”

Joe’s anger was simmering, “HE’S NOT A GOD!!!! HE’S A MAN!”

Vincent: “Superman.”

Joe: “What?”

Vincent: “He’s Superman sir. He’s an alien; an illegal alien at that. So we also wouldn’t cover damages by a non-citizen. It’s in your policy.”

Joe: “He can’t be an illegal alien AND a god, man! He’s from fucking Kansas!!!”

 

Vincent: “No, he landed there, allegedly, and was raised by two as yet unidentified people. The US Government allows him to stay, because, well, they can’t make him leave.”

Joe:”Unidentified?! Uhhh, General Zod destroyed The Kent farm and went on and on about ‘Kal El’ and ‘BRING HIM TO MEEEEEE!’ in his best menacing super villain tone. Then Superman shows up and they wreck downtown Smallville?! That shit was on TV! Doesn’t it seem strange that Clark Kent reported on that fight like 5 minutes AFTER it was over? Like he was just lurking around? Don’t you think that’s strange? Like he knew already, or that he IS Superman?”

Vincent: “That’s preposterous, sir. Clark Kent wears glasses and cannot fly! Pffft! Besides, he was reported at work that day in Metropolis by Lois Lane. Why would she lie? She’s won a Pulitzer. He showed up later because he was concerned about his mom.”

 

Joe: “Really?! Let’s just get to my current claim, ok?”

Vincent: “Alright sir. What happened?”

Joe: “Superman threw my new car at Brainiac.”…..

Vincent burst out laughing: “Why would you think we would cover that this time if we didn’t last time?”

Joe: “This time the car landed in my living room.” Joe was pretty downtrodden now and pretty certain he only existed for Superman to torment him. Maybe he was just the creation of some hack blogger who thinks he’s funny. Joe never did get this whole Multiverse shit.

Vincent was amazed. “Dang, it’s like he knows where you live. As if he deliberately started fighting Brainiac outside your building, found your new car, picked it up in the air, got Brainiac positioned right in front of your window, and then threw the car right through him and the window? Man, bad luck, sir. I’m sure it wasn’t deliberate.”

Joe butted in, “Nah, I’m pretty sure it was!!! I heard him say, ‘I’ll show him who’s a fucking pussy.’ It’s as if he heard me that one time I said it out loud.”

Vincent, astonished at Joe’s ignorance, followed up, “Uh, he did. He can hear everyone at once. I wish you hadn’t mentioned that sir. There is a clause in your policy that states, ‘Talking shit about Superman, to Superman, about one of his friends, co-workers, mom, his dog, his chick, his side chick, and his cousin means he can destroy your property cause he’s mad. Also, Superman would never say those words. He’s a boy scout, sir.”

By this time Joe was nearly defeated, but he still kept fighting. “What the fuck kind of rule is that?! Boy Scouts don’t have side chicks!!! So this petulant asshole gets to fuck shit up because his feelings ARE HURT?!!!! That’s ridiculous!!! Only huge douchebags would…….”

Just then, a huge rending sound echoed through the phone, followed by a blood-curdling scream…”AAAARRRGGGGGHHHHH….”

 

”FFFFUUUUUUCCCCCCKKKKKKK YYYYOOOOUUUUUUSSSSUUUPPPERRRRRRMMAAAANNN…..”  was heard, tailing off as if it got farther and farther away at what sounded like a rapid speed.

Vincent: “Sir?! Joe?! Hello?! Are you there?!”

Superman: “Hello, citizen, this is……..SUPERMAN. Joe can’t come to the phone. He’s gone on vacation just now.”

Vincent was afraid to ask, but he did anyway. “How?  Where?”

Superman, very calmly, said, “In his car, to Central City.”

“But…his car was in his living room and it was broken, obviously.” Vincent didn’t like the turn this took just now.

Superman, again, calmly, “I FIXED IT. I GAVE HIM A PUSH START…TO MACH 4. Had to show him how fucking pussies throw.”

The phone line went dead. Vincent stayed quiet for a long time. After what seemed like forever, he blurted out, “WOW, SUPERMAN DOES CURSE!!!!”

One Lone Black Nerd I be


It started with the movies. I used to go with my parents to every damn show possible. Alien? “Isn’t 4 too young, Donald?” my mom would say. “He’s 4! What can he possibly remember from it? He’ll be fine” I imagine he retorted. I was not fine. I ended up being afraid of the dark the rest of my childhood. You just never knew if that pesky xenomorph was hiding in the ceiling ready to punch your face out with its tongue. However, with the fear came wondrous amazement, joy, and imagination. Even at that age I imagined myself the hero. That was 1979. I’d already been indoctrinated by Star Wars and I thought I was like every kid in those days; full of spirit, giggles, imagination, and joy.

 

Then we moved to Texas from the East Coast and I met my best friend for life, who introduced me to video games! 1983. I had an Atari 2600, then he had a Nintendo, and it escalated from there. Dungeons and Dragons, Doctor Who (we’re talking Tom Baker Doctor Who now), radio serials, Star Trek, GI Joe, Transformers. I was hooked, like every kid. It didn’t hit me that I was any different than any other kid, besides being the only black kid I knew besides my cousins. I began to notice I was the odd kid when I started doing the voices of the characters from the cartoons whose toys I cherished. After all, Optimus Prime can’t sound like Cobra Commander and Darth Vader isn’t as intimidating when he sounds like a spastic nine year old. The kids at school would tease which would cause me to become introverted and only share with those I trusted. “You’re a nerd! You can’t be a nerd! You’re black!”

Well, shit. I’m a black nerd. Those were the worst world ever spoken! Ok, not really, but I was a kid. Words stung, yo. When I was 12, I struggled with my nerd/geek desire to still keep and display my toys, but also struggled with the peer pressure to “grow up” and “be a young man”. It was awkward and it felt wrong, but I put my toys away. “Young black men your age do not play with toys! They play football or basketball or do something cool and athletic.” I heard it, even from my mother. It hurt.  Everyone seemed to want me to do it the way you’re supposed to. I wonder if I would have faced such pressure were I the innocent looking white kid like my best friend. Would I have gotten more of a pass? People tease and ridiculed the white geek kids too, but they always had a click or group they could fall into that looked like them, sounded like them, and didn’t get suspicious looks when they went somewhere together as a group.

So I stopped. I played football in middle and high school…until I discovered comic books. Then it was another obsession. I got a job just to pay for them because my exasperated mother was not gonna pay for “One more damned comic book!” (I find out years later that she was a geek growing up too in an even harder time for black nerds. She had her own comic collection. We would watch movies together and nerd out in later years) I spent half my life in the comic shop. I felt at home, but I was usually always the only black guy in there, reading stories about white, homogenous heroes saving the world. I always wondered why there weren’t more. Where were the people who looked like me?

As I got into my twenties and turned my attention to trying to reach for a career in media, I started to really understand that I was an anomaly. The creators and artists who made the fantastic universes I would get lost in wrote and drew what they knew. They were majority white, and even more majority male. I was an exception to the standard geek rule. So that meant I was in an even more exclusive club. I had panache. I was cool by virtue of my rarity, like an Action Comics #1! The rest of these guys were just silver foiled, variant covered 1991 X-Men #1’s! I started to find heroes like Luke Cage, The Falcon, Spawn, Cyborg, Bishop,John Stewart Green Lantern, Martian Manhunter (dammit, he’s no Martian, he’s a Space Brutha)  and Deathlok. Men who looked like me (except Deathlok, that bruh got jacked up!) rising up and being the hero of the story; fighting injustice. Being a black hero became so damned cool, they went and made honky Nick Fury into Shaft!!!! I still love that one, especially now that he’s a fan favorite.

Now I’m in my early 40’s I see a subtle shift. I take pride in the fact that Dwayne McDuffie (RIP) is one of the most revered writers and creators ever in comics. These days my extended family and many of my friends still don’t quite get the level to which I nerd out and I don’t bore them to sleep with my obsessions, but they see my happiness and they get that. Though they usually stop listening after I start discussing the scientific reasoning behind Superman’s powers or why Batman is still better (He’s the God Damned Batman!). Now that being geeky is a mainstream, popular thing, I’m pleased. It’s a Golden Age! Now that it is mainstream means that more and more young black men and women will discover the wonders of geekdom and not be faced with being so alone in a crowd, if you get what I mean.

I used to feel like the odd man out, but now I don’t feel so awkward as I attend comic cons. I feel like an attraction, but in the best, most positive way possible. Maybe that’s maturity and learning to accept who I am and not worry all that much with other’s impressions. I feel like I’m the voice there to keep it honest and not let things stay the way they have been. I’ve picked up the mantle and I’m one of the trailblazers now!

I was totally a nerd before it was cool.

Damn, does that make me a hipster? I do have a Chewbacca beanie…..

Mystery Dick Theater: Cock’s Last Day


This blog is about dicks; not figurative dicks, but literal dicks.

“Uh, ok.” I can hear you say it now, but bear with me. I had posted an article on my Facebook profile a few days ago about NBA player and doofus Draymond Green “accidentally” posting a picture to his entire Snapchat TL of his penis. My dear friend Elizabeth Anne Hamilton and I entertained ourselves immensely and gloriously lewdly posting comments about it as if his penis was getting a performance review from the boss.  Here now, is how, if his dick was being reviewed like they do in the workplace, I think it would go….

Big Dick (President and founder of Big Dick Pics): “Cock! Cock Johnson! Cum in here!”

In strolls Cock to Dick’s office, erect, excited to receive a stroking. “What’s up, Big Dick?! You yelled for me?”

Big Dick: “So we need to talk about your performance….”

Cock: “Damn straight! You like that Dick Pic I dropped on that girl’s Snapchat?! I was all oiled up and shiny, like a boss!” Cock was pleased with himself as he gently throbbed.

BD: “Yeah, I wanted to talk to you about that CJ. That pic went to EVERYONE’S TL, you penis! Which would be salvageable, but, well….you were looking listless and droopy. The Lighting was poor!  I really think you could do better. Have you considered further training?”

CK: “I don’t understand BD. I flog everyday!!! Never skip a day!!!  I’m like a rock!”

BD: “Well, by the looks of this pic, more like a soft pebble. Maybe you’re jacking too hard? Maybe you need some help? Viagra? Your medical plan covers it. You should look into it. You know how us older penises get. I take it, there’s no shame there.”

CK: “Fuck that, BD! I don’t use performance enhancers!!! That’s for those bullshit movie penises! I’m a real phallus! I go all natural.”

BD: “Can you maybe get more erect?”

CK: “Dammit boss, I am ballin’ so hard! I’m one of your best members! I mean, I know I’m not as big as Mandingo Jones, but I got moves! I work what I got.”

BD: “Mandingo is our star right now, Cock. He’s like a battering ram. He’s curiously frightening, which is good. You’ve fallen off. We hired you because of your plucky spirit and you were always ready to go at a moment’s notice. The hint of cleavage, a wisp of panty line, a breeze…and you sprung into action.  Now….you’re soft.  I’m afraid I’m going to have to write you up for a poor attitude. Please bear in mind you have been warned. The next time we catch you sleeping on the job, you’re sacked.”

Cock Johnson begins to throb faster now. Part anger and part sadness, he bursts into tears. “I’m…I’m not 17 anymore…I….I’ve been having trouble at home…and…..” The throbbing is now reaching a crescendo.

BD: Oh, no, stop crying……. OH GOD, THOSE AREN’T TEARS!!! WHAT IS THAT COMING OUT OF YOUR EYE? DAMMIT, COCK, YOU’RE FIRED!!! We can’t have that kind of a mess here! After that outburst, I’m afraid you’ll need to pack up your desk and leave the premises. We can’t have that kind of a mess here.

CK, between spurts: “Is there severance pay?”

BD: “WE DON’T TALK ABOUT THAT!!!!!” Big Dick hardens himself, “I’m afraid I can’t answer questions about unemployment insurance. You’ll need to contact HR about that. Also, I’m afraid our company will not be giving you a reference. Now, pack your things and security will help you pull out.”

Cock is now deflated. He feels half the size he was when he walked in the office. “I can’t believe I’ve been dicked. What will I do now?” Cock mutters to himself as he hangs a left down the exit hallway….

There you are. That’s where my brain went with that. Go find the original thread on my page. Until next time!

PILLOW, TIMMY!

The Blurred Nerds Podcast, Episode 20


BlurredNerds Logo

Lil Bit and The Geekfather, along with special guest Eric Staples, discuss nerd thangs!

Special guest Eric Staples joins us once again on the podcast where we discuss:

– Sims 4 removing gender restrictions

– Shorter future seasons on Game Of Thrones

– Meme Wars

– Walking Dead

– Reboots of Highlander & League Of Extraordinary Gentlemen

– Scary movies as a child vs now

– What makes someone walk out of a movie/stop watching a show

– Upcoming geek events and cons.

Read more at The Blurred Nerds on Facebook

The Blurred Nerds: Episode II


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We discuss some Adele, Mockingjay Part 2, Jessica Jones, the etiquette of talking at the movies, what we’re thankful for, Black Friday shenanigans, some dog wrangling, and the joy of being a geek!

Plenty of Fish Will Make You Hate People


Have you ever tried online dating? It’s really hit or miss. Those eHarmony, Match.com, and other commercials are just blowing smoke up your sad, lonely ass. Why? Because people are terrible. We all think we’re the hero who is just waiting for our fated love and all we need to do is put up a kick-ass profile and wait. In reality, we are all the villain driving interested people away and then crying about why we never find anyone good while we cry into our peach vanilla ice-cream as we plot the downfall of mankind. What? I like peach-vanilla ice cream. Don’t judge me.

 

Now, I have tried a few different websites and have had decidedly sub par luck in finding a nice woman. Online dating will make you hate people if you let it. I did have the best luck with eHarmony. They did do a good job of matching people for the most part, but no one has yet to master that intangible element of relationships that is the most important- being in each other’s company. You can look like motherfucking Olivia Munn, be intelligent and funny like Tina Fey, know every nerd fact like Felicia Day, but if you come off as crazy like Amanda Bynes on coke when I meet you then we can’t be doing thangs.

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This is the kind of shit you’ll come across often on POF. Hot messes abound!

 

 

I liked eHarmony, but that shit is expensive. I felt like I was paying someone to smile at me while they were punching me in my groin. Every rejection was a gouge in my soul!!!! Not really, but it will make you question yourself and to drink heavily. So I canceled my account there because I’m 1.) POOR AS SHIT and 2.) POOR AS FUCK. I didn’t want to quit trying though because I like boobies and I can at least learn to tolerate the ladies they are attached to. So I aimed a little (okay, a lot) lower and went with Plenty of Fish. We all know POF. It’s like the ghetto of dating sites. It is free so you get the clientele that free usually attracts. The quality tends to suffer. That’s not to say that there aren’t amazing people on there and that you won’t meet someone fantastic, but you will have to wade neck deep through some stank wrong people to get at the awesome ones.

There's a lot of wading...

There’s a lot of wading…

 

I resorted to online dating because I was on the verge of becoming a hermit. It’s like shopping. The effort of field work and ‘boots on the ground’ in the trenches is taken out of the equation. So you sit there, in your underpants eating Frosted Flakes, rifling through boob shots with taglines such as “I’m more that just a pair of boobs!”, “Men are Bullshit!!!!”, and “Are there any honest, good men out there?!!!” The irony, it hurts. Ladies, if you put up pics of your cleavage, you will attract men, however, you will attract ALL THE MEN. Even the ones you don’t want. Breasts are a weapon of mass destruction. They are like thermonuclear bombs. Your target will be hit, but you will also annihilate the surrounding area.  There are creepers who will comment about your tits if you put them on display. You will always suffer creepers, but you will suffer less if you maybe ease up on the pics of your breasts exposed almost to the nipples. If you’re trying to land a man worthy to date, you should maybe downplay your melons. You aim low, you’ll hit low. You know what I mean? Make us boys work for them titties!!!! Sorry, I like saying titties. Fun word. Wow, 10 references to breasts (11!!!! WOOOOOO!!!!) in this paragraph. That has to be a personal best for me.

As a man, when you see this, you cannot help but have thoughts not fit to udder in public. See what I did there?

As a man, when you see this, you cannot help but have thoughts not fit to udder in public. See what I did there?

 

I think I’m not a bad catch. I have manners!!! I behave!!!! I’m a good dude!!!! I keep my weird behavior on the quiet until you’re in love with me, then it’s too late!!! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! Am I perfect? Noooo, but my good outweighs my bad I’d like to think. Unfortunately, women on dating sites are likely bombarded with so many creepy, tracksuit-wearing, tribal tattooed, Dwayne Johnson wannabes that their defenses are up so high that they miss when an actual good man shows them respect, intelligence, and most important…interest. Women and men on these sites are entirely too picky and restrictive in their criteria. That includes me. You have the right to be, but be aware of your restrictive finickiness (is that a word?) before you say “There aren’t any good men/women!!!!” while you delete all those messages unread because the person sending it doesn’t fit your narrow guidelines. You ever see a hot guy/girl with someone who you think is not? How do you think that happened? Lots of charm, conversation, and at least one of them taking a chance. At least read the messages and be polite, because you never know.

Why would my momma lie to me?

Why would my momma lie to me?

 

And guys, for the love of Cupid, don’t act like an asshole. Messages like “Hey baby.”, “Damn gurl, you lookin’ foooin’!!”, “Can I get at you? Holla atcha boi!”, and the always popular “Look at dem titties!!” aren’t really helping. Well, at least don’t use that shit for your introductory message unless you are on Fuckdate.com. No workout pics or dirty mirror pics either!!! Keep your god-damned shirt on! Show yourself doing something. Be out and about!! Show pics of your pets if you have them. Chicks love that shit. Makes their vaginas hum. Show your kids. They like seeing that you are a loving, responsible dad. Many women are into that. Show some class!!! There will be plenty of time later for you to let yo freak out. Trust me. 

This kind of encompasses all the douchebag at once.

This kind of encompasses all the douchebag at once. You can just hear him calling you ‘Babygurrrrl’ can’t you?

 

My point is this:

Plenty of Fish sucks. I probably should stop using it.

 

 

Nerd Raaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaage!!!!!


Hiya nerds and geeks! Selles here, bringing you another installment of my exquisite brand of geeknanigans. Today’s blog is sponsored by nerd rage!!!!! We as nerds all know about nerd rage, don’t we? Yes, we do. You know what I’m talking about.

I will go all Bolo Yeung on your neck right now I’m in such a nerd rage!!!!

No? Lemme tell you. Nerd rage is usually something that manifests itself when ‘Normals’ (i.e., non-nerd douchebags) say or do something that is an affront to all of your hard edged and honed nerd sensibilities, or the establishment fucks with or destroys something you love. This blog was written with the help of my geek menagerie, The Geekvengers. Never will you find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy! I asked them for ideas and things that make them dream of beating people about the head and neck with their Hulk hands.

If the Hulk gets that pissed over running out of toilet paper, douchebags should run for their lives.

 

No, actually, they’re nice people. Except that one guy with all the action figures. I don’t trust him. Anyway, down to the list……

This kid’s book sold for about 2.5 million dollars recently. Good thing the owner didn’t listen to their parents, huh?

1. “Comic books are for kids!” -As an avid comic book collector for the past 25 years, I have heard this common refrain quite enough to make me want to bash people over the head with one of my comic boxes. Stuff like, “Why do you read those?”. Listen, some of the most intriguing, compelling, emotional, gripping, and amazing stories ever written or drawn have been between the pages of those so called kid’s books. Every superhero movie you’ve ever seen is based on those kid’s books. Regular people like those movies, heck, they may even love them, so why hate on the source material? That Dark Knight Trilogy that everyone is lining up to suck on its awesome teat? What do you think it is based on? I could name all the graphic novels that those movies pull from, but your head might explode from all the knowledge. Why do I read comic books? Because they are fucking art. It takes great artists and great writers a month to put together one issue that takes you 10 seconds to dismiss? Grow a pair and man up. Read a comic. It’s ok to look at the pictures. Some smart ass motherfuckers read comics. You should too.

Stormtroopers get bitches.

2. “It’s silly to dress up!”– Look, I’m not one to do this myself, but I have numerous friends who do and they love it. I can see into their souls, and their souls are dressed up as a stormtrooper or Kaylee or Jayne Cobb (yes, with the hat!). I enjoy seeing that type of devotion to something. I don’t mock a chick for slathering on too much makeup, wearing something that makes people focus on their tits as if they were a red-assed baboon, stripper heels, and enough perfume to choke the ozone. Isn’t that dressing up too? What makes what nerds and geeks do different? Is it because people have deemed what we do as socially unacceptable? Because it makes you uncomfortable? ‘Normal’ folks think we are somehow damaged or broken, which in my experiences is as far from the truth as possible. They are some of the finest people you could ever meet. The joy it brings out in my friends shows on their faces every time they have an opportunity to do it. Why would you shit on that? So it isn’t your thing. So what?

3. “You’ll grow out of it.” Some people do, I won’t lie. That kid who went to see Star Wars on opening day could have grown up to be a normal, regular adult who doesn’t own action figures or whose walls aren’t adorned with signed photos or framed art or posters. Most likely they grew up and got into sports and have a favorite team or three, or they got into music, or they like to build things, or race cars, or whatever other hobby you can think of. So why then do people say such dumb shit like, “When are you going to grow up and get rid of all this kid’s stuff”?! I answer with, “My bad ass Bane statue says to go fuck yourself.” EVERYONE has things that they still like but really probably shouldn’t. It’s an escape from the everyday life. Nerds and geeks have jobs, we pay bills, we raise kids, we have pets, we can do all the normal crap you do, we just to get to come home to our awesome nerd shelves and our rocking DVD collection. We also run your IT department, so keep watching porn at work. Go ahead. I dare you.

Nerds made this while they were busy not growing up.

4. Posers. Said with dripping disgust and ire. Unfortunate that I have to use an 80’s term, but I feel that it fits. They may also be known as their government name…hipsters. You know the ones of which I speak? The jackass that wears the Punisher t-shirt and has no fucking idea who the Punisher is, why he punishes, or that Frank Castle is a bad motherfucker who has taken on Spider-Man, Daredevil, and whoever else he feels needs a beat down. Ahem…sorry, nerd rant. They wear shit ironically because the design is “Cool, bro” or because they’re trying to make it popular. Sorry to break it to you hipster douchecannons, but all that nerd shit you wear would have gotten you a beating when I was in school. NO ONE WORE NERD ANYTHING for risk of being dunked in a toilet and given an atomic fusion 10 megaton wedgie. Now I can’t go five feet without seeing someone wearing a Tardis t-shirt or Superman’s crest on their chest. Why does it piss me off? Because you didn’t EARN IT. You didn’t grow up loving these properties and suffering through the dark ages like I did!!!!! When all you had was your imagination and free time. When you finally get to see Bane in The Dark Knight Rises on the big screen portrayed as you always had dreamed since Joel Suckmorecher made him a knuckledragging mongol beast and some taintnugget mutters, “Dude, who is this guy?! I can’t understand him!”, I wish I had mental powers so I could melt the guys head out from under his knit cap. It’s fucking SUMMER, guy!!!! Take it off!!! Real nerds and geeks wear what we do because we know what the deuce it’s about. We get it. When you get that knowing nod as you pass another nerd it makes it worth it. No, you can’t be in the club.

A handy visual! You know who doesn’t like visuals? Hipsters.

5.  Hollywood. This isn’t so much a single particular thing as a broad blanket cast over the institution of moviemaking. Hollywood can get it right with movies such as The Dark Knight Trilogy, X-Men: First Class (except for it’s lack of color), and Watchmen. However, most often they get it waaaaaaaaaay wrong. Like X-Men Origins: Wolverine wrong. Michael Bay’s Transformers transforming your childhood into salty tears you cry into your Optimus Prime pillowcase wrong. We all understand that changes have to be made to make these properties attractive to the mainstream audiences, but when you fundamentally change who a character is so the “new, hot star” can play them, you’re doing it wrong. Taylor Kitsch wrong. I’ll use him as an example. He played Gambit in the aforementioned shitty Wolverine movie. He wasn’t portrayed as cajun. Why? I don’t know. Most likely because Taylor in all his smoldering hotness (I’ve heard), cannot do a proper cajun accent. He was shitty. Handsome, but shitty. Another example is Bane from Joel Suckasser’s (sorry, I refuse to utter that turdnuggets name) movie that sort of resembled a Batman movie, but sucked a ton. When one of your favorite characters is ruined by Hollywood’s need to give you their version and not the essence of the character from the comic books (There are those damned kid’s books again!) it sucks away a piece of your soul. You can’t explain your exasperation and your vitriol. Not to the normal people.

They got the invisible part right.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

6. “No, that’s not how it happened! My brother saw the Spider Man movie and says…..” FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUU! Be quiet. You tread into dangerous territory here. Do not correct a nerd or geek. Trust me. We will always know more about it than your brother who saw the Amazing Spider-Man. Unless your brother is a super nerd like me. If not, then just be quiet over there, listen, and you may learn something. Knowledge is power! A true geek knows the difference between artificial web-shooters and organic ones and that Gwen Stacy MUST DIE to make the new movies even close to legit. Bitch has gotta go. The rules. Not up for debate. We have forgotten more shit about nerd happenings and whatnot than you will ever know.

Unless you have blue or red lasers, you’ve already lost.

7. “Chewbacca? Oh, I love him! He’s from that Star Trek, right?” – There is no faster way to make me fantasize about kung-fuing the shit out of you like I’m Neo and you’re Morpheus than to add characters from one property into another. I seriously don’t know how you could possibly mix up Star Wars and Star Trek. The only similarities between the two is that they take place in space and have Star in their titles. When you’ve seen one or the other, you don’t mix them up. So when you utter dumb statements like that I know you haven’t seen either and are just trying to stay in a conversation in which you were hopelessly outmatched to begin with. Go back to your Kardashians gossip. Nerds prefer Cardassians, thank you.

Because, fuck you guys, that’s why.