Monday, October 31, 2005

Ten Stages Of The Century Club

I wrote this for a college humor site:

For many in college one of the major rites of passage is participation in what’s called “The Century Club.” This game, if we may call it that, is usually played when you have a keg, or some other prolific source of beer aka “food for frat boys." The rules are simple: take one shot of beer every minute until you reach the century mark.

Now a lot of hardcore, young innocent freshmidiots go in thinking this challenge is far from a challenge at all. They say to themselves, “Dude, I do like twenty shots of Jagr every night before studying, so a few shots of beer, bleh, I won’t even blink twice. But the fact is doing a shot of beer every minute for one hundred minutes transforms a person in some fundamental way. Whether it’s for bad or good, I don’t know. But what I can tell you about are the ten stages that most people go through while engaged in The Century Club.

Ten Minutes – At the onset there is an electricity in the air. Everyone probably knows this is a “college tradition,” and the players are proud to add another notch to the “I’m a cool big-time drinker” resume. Over the first five minutes/shots expect everyone to have a couple one-liners about how easy it is to “do it with beer” as opposed to the liquid nuclear waste that’s usually being poured into shot glasses.

Twenty Minutes – At this point that initial energy has worn off just a tad. Reality is setting in, and the participants prepare to focus on the task at hand. It is the first hint of realizing that this journey will not be all giggles and crème. One of the life lessons learned from participation in The Century Club is any task, no matter how intriguing initially, can become “work” if you no longer want to be told what to do, and when to do it.

Thirty Minutes – That first hint of realization has now turned into a full on revelation. Around the twenty-five minute mark it hits you that you’re already pretty tired of taking shots of beer, but you still have a long way to go. This will be when you get your first round of quitters. They are the wise ones, getting out while sanity is still in their grasp.

Forty Minutes – At this stage all those mental realizations start transforming into physical reactions. Everyone’s getting a little hotter, now gritting their teeth with each swallow. That minute between shots, which seemed like an eternity during the first stage, now seemingly passes in a few short breaths. The strong-man competition has commenced. Participants look at each other for signs of anyone coming to their senses and calling it off. At this point the meatheads in the group will step up and apply enough peer pressure to make sure everyone keeps their head in the game.

Fifty Minutes – Sleeves are now rolled up as everyone is past the point of amusement, but the task is only half complete. Most of the participants by this time have foreseen the inevitable consequences of their actions. They have started removing valuables, external clothing, and have gone to retrieve extra garbage cans. The bigger the better. Things are about to start getting messy and everyone knows it.

Sixty Minutes – We should have the first batch of pukings starting somewhere around the hour mark. There is a junior-varsity version of The Century Club, it's called the Power Hour. It would end here.

Seventy Minutes – Once the seal is broken on the vomiting, things start getting real loud and unsettled. There’s a lot of shouting. In fact, it’s basically all shouting. But everyone has lost control of their conversation filtration device, so people are yelling whatever they want. Unspoken truths, slander, racial slurs … it’s all good at this stage of the game. No one cares. Everyone is basically out of their head at this point. Most everything from here on out will be lost in the abyss of drunken incoherency, never to be remembered again.

Eighty Minutes – Voluntary participation in the retch-o-rama ends here, we've now reached the involuntary projectile hurling stage. Whenever anyone talks or moans the only thing that comes out is beer-puke, and it's flying everywhere. Everyone’s face and torso is covered.

Ninety Minutes – The finish line is now in sight. After the peak of the barfathon passes, there is a calm before the final storm. The big concern now is that whoever has been keeping track of the time and shots may be in serious danger. There are two possibilities, one, either they are also drinking and are therefore out of their mind and unreliable for remembering time, numbers, their name, or anything. Two, if they have been abstaining from drinking, the remaining participants could turn on him. At this point none of the participants are in a “good” mood. And they will all be claiming to have finished their hundred shots, or that more time is needed, or that this isn't beer they're drinking it's "devil-urine." So this is basically the time where the timekeeper needs to tread carefully and watch his arse.

One Hundred Minutes - The final stanza. Everyone finds a garbage can, or toilet bowl, or sober person's mouth and prepares to deposit all of the contents of their body. With each final shot everyone trembles in sync. No one is standing. No one is able to speak in their native language. Everyone is secreting beer out of every pore and orifice on their bodies. People are shedding tears of beer. People are peeing beer. People are shitting beer. People are putting beer deodorant on. Guys are cumming beer. Girls think they have their period, but it’s only beer. People are seeing dead people. Smelling old people. Chaos. It’s like The Day After Tomorrow. In fact some people may be watching The Day After Tomorrow and unintelligibly claiming it’s a good movie.

After the final shot everyone collapses on the spot, most likely in their own personal pool of beer and bodily fluids. Some will live, some will die. No one will be seen for at least the next 72 hours.

But those new members of The Century Club know that it's all worth it

Sunday, October 30, 2005

The Magnetic Pull of T.A.N.

What can I say, I think it's pretty cool if someone makes a magnet out of you.

Mine looks a little ghetto, but I guess that's somewhat apropos.

He says they're not for sale, but talk to Malatron, and maybe you can convince him to send you one. Then TAN can be drinking Ketel & Cranberry in your kitchen also.


TAN Press Room

recent online:

ESPN, Grantland press release
Grantland pieces

Exciting new books to read this fall, Flavorwire

VMA's Break tradition, Tell Me More, NPR

The Free Agent List: 2011's 50  Media Power Bachelors, New York Observer

Making a Hashtag of it, NYTimes

TAN seen on:

"the assimilated negro destroyed my life ...."

Random House/Crown/Three Rivers - "Negropedia" - 10/4/11

ESPN The Magazine: Vick Issue(9/5/11) - The Postracial Dog Park

N+1 - "What Was The Hipster?" - 10/15/10

Houston Chronicle - "Web Hunks" - 8/03/09

Houston Chronicle - "Race-related blog causing white-hot reaction" - 3/20/08

Time Out New York - "Bring Back Segregation!" - 8/23/07

Penthouse - "How To Have Sex with a Racist" - June, 07

The New York Times - "Slyders by Candlelight" - 2/18/07

The New York Observer - "Blog Ghetto" - 1/29/07

Hartford Advocate - "Ebony & Ivory Tower" - 12/28/06

AM New York - "New York, Blog City" - 3/17/06

The Village Voice - Lusty Lady column - 1/27/06

The Village Voice - Best of NYC, 2

The Village Voice - Best of NYC, 2005


A Bronx Tale: Sonia Sotomayor

Hunt for the Hipster Grifter

Don Imus

Virgina Tech Incident

Negro Bowl I

White Castle Valentine it, son

Friday, October 28, 2005

TAN Gets Skwibbed

Well as I slowly but surely make my way up to Nobel Peace Prize eligibility, I must thank Mark Rayner at The Skwib for awarding me his first Exploding Skwib Award.

My post about Jim Crow Jeans and slavE-bay was the deserving candidate.

Of course I'd like to thank God and a million others for this achievement. I couldn't have done it without you.

my hope is that this award, along with my blog, and two nickels will get me on the train once the MTA goes to discount rates.

FYI - for anyone planning to be in the area, i'll be performing in Tikrit, Iraq over the weekend at a club called The Bomb Spot

The Magic Headphones

Got a great link from Maine, who I think will be covering it for blog bukkake Friday(just click, don't ask). the article, you gotta read it to believe it.

"A remote control that controls humans"

And here you thought the fight between you and your lady for the remote control could not get any more heated.

Sorry White Sox Fans, If No One Saw You Win Then It Doesn't Count

Since I broke through the virtual glass ceiling and got plugged on Gawker, I now spit out mimosas instead of Colt 45, and caviar instead of fried chitlins when I read something ludicrous on Gawker's jock-brother Deadspin.

The most recent thing that induced hurling was this post about the Chicago White Sox as an all-time-great team. In the comment section there were a bunch of crazed crack-head Chicagoans supporting the notion, until I showed up and put the smack down on all the nonsense.

I mean what do you want from me? Respect? Ok fine, congrats to the White Sox, you won the Little League World Series. *twirls finger*

Now I said no one cared about this World Series matchup before it even started.

And from the tepid response I was forced to think, "hmmm maybe I'm wrong. Maybe the world doesn't revolve around NYC, and there are people who care about the Astros and the Chicago Cubs, err Bears, err Bulls, err White Sox."

But lo and behold, just when things seemed dark, and even guys like Easy were in my comment box pointing out the error of my ways, the word comes down from ESPN:

More People Watched Me Wipe My Ass On Public Access Television Than Watched The World Series

hey, I don't write the headlines, I just link them.

This series "beat" out the 2002 tussle between the Anaheim Angels and San Francisco Giants (also known as the World Series for gay people) for lowest rating ever.

And yes I do think that's engraved on the championship trophy.

And yes I too had forgotten about that 2002 World Series. Just like I imagine I'll forget about this one as soon as I press "publish post." Or blink.

So I can't wait to Fed-Ex this post to Zulkey, and the ten other wannabe Cubs fans trying to convince Chicagoans there's a reason for looting.

hmmm, but how will I pay for the Fed-Ex? My blog's not worth much. Oh wait, I know!! I can sell my autographed Paul Konerko jersey on E-Bay. If I lie and call it "Official MLB Toilet-Paper" I might even get a couple bucks for it.

The one good thing is since Boston won last year, at least when people ask "who won the world series?" we can say "The Sox" and it won't make too much of a difference.

Thursday, October 27, 2005

Got Some Nerve? ( audio)

So in my profile you'll notice it says "writer/marketing guy/artist," and one of the results of that description is that I'm an excellent pitchman.

When you think of a good pitchman, and I'm talking about in the office not commercials, ideally you want someone who can write well, has a good handle on the brand/marketing agenda, and also has some special flair, a unique compelling artistry when they present.

And in many ways I consider myself a pitchman for hip hop. Hip-Hop's Assimilated Ambassador (H-HAA! - that's a laugh). So when Andrew Krucoff comments that TAN "is doing his best to make sure the future of the Internet isn't 'pretty much made of white people'" he's only half right.

Sure hip hop and race have their correlation. I'm definitely about "black people that like white people and white people that like black people". But I am also a big believer in the connection between hip-hop and rock-and-roll. That common energy. That shared spirit of revolution. That impulse to imagine ...

For me that is hip hop. Or at least that's where I want to help push hip hop's image. As an ambassador. A pitchman. A writer/marketing guy/artist.

So when I translate Gawker to hip hop. That's a big part of the motivation. I want to open a door. I want the opportunity to pitch hip hop. To assimilate that energy. Because, in my opinion, that's something I'm good at.

One of the first times this all coalesced for me was when I decided I wanted to write for Why did I want to write for Nerve? Because here was this edgy, contemporary, well-regarded content provider that marketed themselves as "urban-savvy," yet I was shocked by the lack of hip hop. The lack of melanin.

Urban means big city right? And if you have a big city, you have negroes (amongst others). And if you have negroes, you have hip hop. So let's make the party inclusive. Hip-hop-and-roll baby. The more the fuckin' merrier.

Of course I know Get Rich Or Die Tryin' hip hop makes that a tough proposition. Because, well, no one wants to be "urban" if it means bullet holes in your body.

So TAN makes it easier. You get that good "urban" hip hop, plus no one is gonna get shot. Well at least no one that doesn't deserve it.

So I made a package for Nerve and told them I was down for whatever. Make me an intern (even if I'm a bit overqualified), but let's get some melanin up in there.

And in order to get their attention, which is always the first challenge, I wrote a song, the piece-de-resistance of my pitch package.

The objective was to make it sexy and personal, like Nerve, with a hip hop edge. So I basically went to the editors page, looked at the bios, and let my mind wander over a Primo beat.

The staff has changed some, but the cast of characters at the time included:

Rufus Griscom - CEO aka the guy who "runs sh*t"
Whitney Lawson - photo editor, clips from NY Times and The New Yorker
Sarah Harrison - inspirer of more-than-embarassing thoughts
Ada Calhoun - master of Sanskrit studies
Michael Martin - editor-in-chief, "Left Gear" for Nerve
Tobin Levy - had to leave a spot for her

This was the end result:

Got Some Nerve?

MP3 File

hot-like-fire lyrics

let know that them, sex, and hip-hop make for the perfect menage-a-trois. Oui?

more TAN audio


Tuesday, October 25, 2005

A Negro's Worth

ran into this on Technorati.

I'm not exactly sure how the formula works, but you plug in your URL and they calculate your blog's worth according to their, um, calculations.

TAN's blog is worth $149,603.10.
How much is your blog worth?

so with that knowledge I'm going to splurge and get me a Venti TANachino from Starbucks.

what's your blahg worth?

Maybe we can unite all our blogs and close the deficit or something.

Or at least have a crazy party where we get unsober and laugh at all the poor blogless people.

let me know which one we're doing

Nine Innings Of Hip Hop

Apparently "Chamillionaire" and "Paul Wall" have recorded personal songs for and about the Houston Astros.

If I didn't know better I'd add "personal hip hop songs about things seemingly unrelated to hip hop" to the Trends I Started page.

Regardless where/when it started, it is a trend worth noting, and TAN is all over it.

I also feel pretty secure that those songs won't rival the TAN-Jam "Gawk At This"

It's just too bad Gawker's not in the MLB playoffs

TAN Celebrates Rosa Parks Day

Yesterday, as most people know by the time of this posting, Rosa Parks passed away.

I'm not planning to eulogize at all, and there are many others who have posted. The Times article is linked here. If you don't have access, TinkertyTonk posted a big snippet of the piece here.

Gawker made a statement
as well.

I commented on the Gawker post, and unexpectedly I got a fair amount of positive e-mail feedback. Including her divaness Pink Lemonade, who commented on the blog(thanks). So since I am apt to link to anything I do remotely praiseworthy, here is the comment.

For those who don't want to bother I basically say that, in her honor, I'm refusing to give up my seat on the the bus to any of the elderly or disabled.

I gave myself a good chuckle with the line, but then when actually riding the bus today my mind was swirling. I don't usually end up in the seats where the stickers ask you to "please give up this seat to someone elderly or disabled," but today there I was. And with the remants of Wilma hitting NYC today there were a lot of people using the bus.

So with my comment in mind I was feeling particularly conscious about making sure I don't take the joke too far. At the same time the bus is crowded and I wasn't looking to give up my seat unless it was really necessary.

So I'm scanning the people as they come in. Every middle-aged person who boards I'm checking out for extra wrinkles, or a limp, or missing teeth ... something to let me know they fit under the "elderly or disabled" category. There were a number of tweeners that made me lean forward, but then say, "nah, they're not that old."

Eventually an old lady with big bags and a cane feebly makes her way on to the bus. Perfect, I think to myself. I look at her face that is desperately hoping for a seat and I rise up with a little extra flourish to make sure others notice my benevolence.

And as soon as I step away from the seat, this bratty little girl slides in front of the old lady and gets in the seat. And not only does she take the seat, she actually stands on the seat itself, then kneels down on her knees so that she can look out the window. All done with that childlike oblivious exuberance that is oh-so-annoying when there's absolutely nothing to be obliviously exuberant about.

The old lady, who had noticed my flourish, was clearly disappointed. But there's nothing anyone can do. The child was too young to approach about proper etiquette in that situation.

Mind you I wanted to take the child, slam her down on the ground, put my wet boot on her face and tell her, "the sign says kindly give the seat to someone elderly or disabled. And not only that, yesterday Rosa Parks passed away, and I made a funny comment on Gawker about not giving my seat up that people e-mailed me about. And I was thinking about that comment when I gave up my seat. So with all that in mind don't you want to go and find someplace else to cry and complain about my wet boot being in your face?"

Someone's got to teach these children some manners. It might as well be TAN and his wet boot.

Unfortunately like a good little blogger, I thought big thoughts, and took little action.

A little later in the day all these events made me think about how, despite considering myself to be a spry young man, I get on the bus and often have elderly and disabled people getting out their seats so that I can sit down.

Maybe I need botox

Storm Warning: Hurricane "What Are You Thinking?" Is Approaching Fast

Stumbled on Kiss & Blog, and they raised the "what are you thinking" issue with regards to relationships.

I personally shy away from the traditional gender role description, where girl interrogates and guy stares blankly into space. I think guys can be introspective also. And more to the point, I think that correlates more with the power dynamic, which can swing either way. So if some fat, stupid, unemployed, ashtray of a guy happens to stumble into a relationship with Heidi Klum. I'd bet that he's the one asking "what are you thinking" while she hogs the TV on Sunday watching Project Runway marathons without saying a word.

But I do think Wombat is on the money at the end of his rant:
If only Relationship Talk had a Six Flags. We'd be more open to the ups and downs if we were riding on something fun, like a rollercoaster ...
This is the key to me. The Town of Relationship Talk needs an amusement park, or a sense-of-humor ice cream truck, or even a smile lollipop might help. Unfortunately, when that question is posed, it usually feels like the dark clouds of a category 10 hurricane are rolling in, and consequently the appropriate reaction is to shutter down all doors and windows (presumably to the soul) and only converse about matters that are bare necessities for survival. Presuming, of course, you don't simply evacuate the premises.

I'm curious about other people's thoughts on the matter. From either side of the equation. Is there legitimate gender role definition here? Does anyone actually enjoy "Hurricane What Are You Thinking?" How do you handle it when you want to know? How do you handle it when you're the one being interrogated?
You've read the post. Just tell me honestly, what are you thinking?

Monday, October 24, 2005

You call these literary classics? Fiddlesticks!

A friend of mine sent me this amusing link. It's a collection of one-star reviews about books on Time's list of the 100 best novels from 1923 - present.

Some of the highlights include:
The Catcher in the Rye (1951)
Author: J.D. Salinger
“So many other good books…don’t waste your time on this one. J.D. Salinger went into hiding because he was embarrassed.”

Lord of the Flies (1955)
Author: William Golding
“I am obsessed with Survivor, so I thought it would be fun. WRONG!!! It is incredibly boring and disgusting. I was very much disturbed when I found young children killing each other. I think that anyone with a conscience would agree with me.”

The Lord of the Rings (1954)
Author: J.R.R. Tolkien
“The book is not readable because of the overuse of adverbs.”

1984 (1948)
Author: George Orwell
“Don’t listen to anyone who tries to distinguish between “serious” works of literature like this one and allegedly “lesser” novels. The distinction is entirely illusory, because no novels are “better” than any others, and the concept of a “great novel” is an intellectual hoax. This book isn’t as good as Harry Potter in MY opinion, and no one can refute me. Tastes are relative!”

To Kill a Mockingbird (1960)
Author: Harper Lee
“I don’t see why this book is so fabulous. I would give it a zero. I find no point in writing a book about segregation, there’s no way of making it into an enjoyable book. And yes I am totally against segregation.”
Well at least for most of them we can always watch the movie.

Read more spot-on book reviews here.

And Now Introducing The Most Versatile Actor In The World

Well I just moved The Human Stain up in my Netflix queue (pronounced qway-you).

And before it even arrives and I watch it I felt I had to pay respects to my fellow brother, my fellow negro-at-arms, my assimilated homey ... Anthony Hopkins.

See he and I both know one thing:


For those who don't know, Anthony Hopkins plays a black man in the movie. And now that I get a good look at him, I'm kind of surprised Sir Hopkins hasn't been featured in a Spike Lee Joint yet. Maybe he could play Jackie Robinson, if that's still in the works. I'd also love to hear how many times he's been pulled over by the police while driving ... probably happens every day.

When looking for images of my darkie-doppelganger, I couldn't decide which pic he looked most black in. These were the other top two candidates:

I'm growing my hair out like this over the winter. It's all about the dreads.

[ insert your own TAN-style negro-in-jail joke here]


Saturday, October 22, 2005

To Do List: 1. Have A Child 2. Blog Bukkake

I was honored to be part of the inaugural edition of blog bukkake over at QWMaine's.

But there's clearly no bigger sign of the amoral blog universe heading towards an apocalyptic conclusion than Mr. Maine having a beautiful child on Thursday. And then kicking off Blog Bukkake Friday the next day.

And no, I'm not going to explain to you what bukkake is. You will have to find out for yourself.

And after you do, please contact social services


Friday, October 21, 2005

From The TAN Recipe Book

I was blurfing around and saw a couple spots with recipes posted. I can only link to Orange's sandwiches because I've lost the other spots ... but they're out there.

And since fine dining was in the air, I thought I'd share one from the TAN Playbook.

Guaranteed to satisfy, whether a black-tie soiree with the blogging elite, or an impromptu grub-down with the boys.

TAN's Mac-N-Dogs
(pronounced "TAN smackin' dogs")


1 generic brand box of macaroni and cheese (hold the marketing schlock that tries to convince me processed mac and cheese could be gourmet, or that cheese is "velvetty")

2 Nathan's or Hebrew National hot dogs, Foreman grilled to grease-bubble-bursting skin-splitting perfection

1 knife for cutting hot dogs into bite size chunks. Also can be used to clear room in your arteries.

mix hot dogs with macaroni and cheese. serve hot on fine china.
feeds 2-3 average weight people, one overweight person.


Unhappy With World Series Matchup, MLB orders “Do Over”

After marinating for 24 hours with the idea of a World Series matchup between the Chicago White Sox and Houston Astros, Major League Baseball officials have officially declared a “do over” for the playoffs.

A MLB representative issued this statement:
“We’ve determined that a playoff series between the White Sox and Astros is not in the best interests of baseball. We have declared a “do over” and everyone will once again vie for the championship beginning on Monday. In addition, we will be adding Pedro Martinez to the Red Sox, and Roger Clemens and Andy Petitte to the Yankees.”
Insiders say that poor attendance records are the main reason for MLB making this unprecedented move. The Astros and White Sox had the worst numbers among those teams eligible for the playoffs. The White Sox in particular stood out, ranking in the bottom half of the league for attendance despite having the best record for most of the season. This compounded by a roster full of players no one could distinguish from a kid on a milk carton had MLB executives wanting to change their sox, and pull off the biggest baseball scandal since 1919.

If the World Series went as scheduled, ratings in the major markets of New York and Los Angeles were expected to be totally nonexistent.

A scientific poll of males 18-34 in NYC revealed that 0% of that prized demographic was actually planning to watch the World Series.

38% of them were planning to spend that time watching Laguna Beach with their girlfriend.

21% planned to catch up on the latest gossip on Gawker and Blogebrity with their girlfriend.

16% said they would masturbate like they normally do from 8pm to 11pm

10% said they were going to get drunk and commit hate crimes against blacks and jews.

8% said they would freshen up on the growing archive of hotness at The Assimilated Negro.

4% said they were going to kick someone’s ass just cause it would be an old-school New York thing to do.

2% said they plan to kick their parent’s ass because they were raised in a perfect family and now lack passion in their lives.

1% said they planned to give AIDS a try.

One guy who thinks too much said he’ll be damned if he’s just another statistic.

One paraplegic deaf mute signed that he knew he was also capable of genius because TAN told him so.

Indeed I did, indeed I did

Thursday, October 20, 2005

Who Controls Hip Hop Image?

just a quick hit on the NBA moving away from the hip hop image.

From a hip hop perspective, the problem is not the NBA wanting to separate from the current hip hop image of guns, violence, and reckless materialism.

The problem is hip hop's image as guns, violence, and reckless materialism. We have to change the hip hop brand image, not scream racism at those who choose to disengage.

I hope TAN can help in that regard.

Because hip hop is definitely in the building.

(The NBA shouldn't get rid of hip hop, the NBA should get more TAN Hip Hop)

on a side but related note ...

how the race card is played in media is fascinating to me. The last two big race flare-ups, Bill Bennett and the NBA, are red herrings.

meanwhile in April, Princeton University reported that in New York City, "black applicants without criminal records are no more likely to get a job than white applicants just out of prison"

NBA's Employees Must Wear Collared Shirts

Black People On Same Ground As White Prisoners

which story do you run?


Doing It Bloggy-Style

100 blogs in 100 days says hi to the Negro ...

thanks Jen

and while we're talking about resistance being futile ...

if I turn my laptop around, so its back is towards me. And I can just reach around to manipulate the keyboard with my fingers. And I make pelvic thrust motions with my hips while I write.

Is that considered doing it bloggy-style?

I would have included a pic, but the ibook says some things should be kept private (or left to the imagination)


If It Ain't Broke, How Do You Fix It? On Passion, Purpose, and Pursuing Perfection

Lately I’ve been thinking about the source of one’s passion.

I talked with a friend recently who told me they’re struggling to find a career they’re passionate about. He made the jump to say such passion, and such a career, would likely be linked with him finding purpose. Passion stems from purpose, which is of course, the point … (presuming we are to persist in propagating this pulsing pattern of pedantic puerile puffery).

I know, for example, I have a passion for creative expression. I am an obsessive when in the throes of an interesting project, whether big or small. Whether it’s a CD, a show, or jokes and jokes and jokes.

I do feel I’m obsessed with blogging right now.

I see this whole world I have ignored for so long, and *he says blushing* I do have a little fire burning. I am writing with purpose. And I wish each post could be perfect.

And so now I’m thinking passion and purpose are also directly related to the pursuit of perfection. When we are passionate, whether it’s for a lover, a job, or a blog, we feel like we are on the trail of something. Something big. And I think that something is perfection.

Which is why we invariably lose some of that passion over time. We find out, yet again, perfection is not at the end of this road.

(but more on this later)

Since some people say I’m smart, and everyone says I’m crazy, and nobody says I’m your typical cookie-cutter Negro, I’ve thought a lot about the origins of my sensibility. Which inevitably leads to thoughts about family.

Maybe the dichotomy of nature and nurture is an illusion. When you think about it, everything could be all wrapped up into one big parent package. There are the genes your parents gave you. And then there’s whether or not your parents were around to buy you jeans.

More or less, that is the long and short of all the nature and nurture business.

And so maybe all that passion and purpose and perfection we seek is rooted in family. Who raised you, and how did they do it?

By most accounts, I grew up in an abnormal environment.

My parents were married and had me just before they could legally drink. And they were divorced and in a custody battle soon after they could legally drink. My mother originally had custody, but gave me up when I was five. My only contact with her after that parting were three kidnappings, twice off the street, once out the classroom.

My father during the formative years was a world-traveling musician. He wasn’t around consistently until I was about ready to head off to boarding school.

To make that long story short (and this short story longer), I got a lot of counseling as a child. And over the years I’ve had a lot of people raise their eyebrows when hearing about my childhood. Which means, I guess, that it was imperfect. But I think that imperfection, as with many other “passionate but tortured artist types” fuels the fire. The burning need to prove oneself through purpose. Through the pursuit of perfection.

But sometimes I wonder, what if I had a perfect upbringing? What would I be then?

Now it’s easy to say, “no family is really perfect.” That’s the semantic argument. But I do think there are perfect families out there, I think they are rare, but they exist.

I won’t do a huge analysis of what a perfect family would be, but the basics as I see it would be a mother and father that love each other and their child unconditionally, an extended family that fit their roles to a tee with no drunk uncles/rotten apples, money, and have it all covered by the veil of anonymity (i.e. no celebrities). Celebrity only causes issues, and the point of perfection is to not have any issues.

So if this model of perfection is your family, from what well do you draw passion? If you are natured/nurtured in perfection maybe passion, by virtue of being linked to the pursuit of perfection, is inaccessible for you.

Don’t get me wrong. You can get excited. Things stiffen, things moisten, things get all tingly inside. But real passion? Real purpose? I wonder…

The awareness of our imperfection is that which both frees and shackles us. And there’s no nature/nurture combination that can remove that knowledge because it is us. This is why self-effacement is always the safe bet for a public persona. Because our conscience says,

“You arrogant fool you can’t possibly think of yourself as perfect. Perfection is an idea we came up with to help identify ourselves. It is something that we are not, and therefore helps us see who we are. We want it, we worship it, we fight for it, but it is not for us to possess. So stay humble.”

So we hate on Terrell Owens, Simon Cowell, Omarosa and anyone else who acts like they're the shit. Like they're perfect.

Of course a child from the perfect family would naturally be aware of their pedigree. Maybe too aware. And therein lies the rub. You need imperfection to ground yourself in humanity. You need it to have the revelation, the dramatic second act finale, the epiphanic moment.

Every father/son movie, and every mother/daughter movie has the moment where child realizes the parent is imperfect. They realize parents make mistakes just like them. And that they are the one sometimes in need of chastising and punishment. And that they are, after all, human.

But what if the moment doesn’t happen?

If you had a perfect family, you would never have that moment. Your parents would have raised you with the perfect balance of reverence and reality. You know they’re human, but you also know they’re somehow perfect.

So you can tell a story without an arc, but you can’t tell a compelling story without an arc. You need change. You need evolution. You need an error, and then *ahhhhhh* the correction. We triumph again.

This is the primal lesson in any class or book on writing for film, tv, or print.

It may be the primal lesson in any class or book on living.

Children from perfect families are like walking in on the end-credits of a great film. You can see and feel all the goodness that must have happened, but you probably don’t care because you missed the story. You missed the drama. You missed the passion. The purpose. The pursuit of perfection. The point.

Maybe a lack of passion or purpose is the backlash from having a perfect family.

All of us passionate, inspired, starving artists are busy trying to fix ourselves through creative expression and obsession.

But those from perfect homes ain't broken.

And if it ain’t broke, how do you fix it?

I told my friend maybe he's having trouble finding passion because he was raised in a perfect family. He's always had unconditional love at his disposal, so there's no fundamental drama to his life.

He said, "maybe you're right, but I think I just need to get laid."

He's probably more right than I am


It's Just You, Me, And The Blog Makes Three Tonight

I hate to say it, because the intent is not to offend people, and I know just about everyone does this. But it's because everyone is doing it that I have to comment.

I've grown extremely weary of the whole "nobody reads my blog" premise. I think at least half of all the posts in blogdom say something to the effect of, "well no one is reading this crap, but I'm going to say it anyways ..." or "I'd send you some traffic but I don't think you'd miss me and my grandma."

Generally speaking I think too many bloggers have taken the whole geek-chic "I'm a loser" sensibility too far.

And I'm part of the problem. I've made jokes like that also. And afterwards I licked my fur and ate berries off a bush because I felt like a dirty baboon.

I know it's tough. Since joining the blog-ranks I've learned quickly that original sin is acting like the bully that used to pick on you in grade school.

But have some pride.

Your mom wants you to be humble. She doesn't want you to be a loser.

Thom Yorke is not actually a creep.

Lennon and McCartney are not actually losers.

They're rock-stars that made hit songs that inspire us to be ... more than a loser.


so herbs and herbettes, what have we learned today?

TAN is the greatest.

Larry has a blog.

And I've got to cut this short because there will be a million-woman-march if I don't have two posts up by the start of the business day


Wednesday, October 19, 2005

TAN Sees Ratings Plummet, Says Screw God And A Million Others

what can I say I'm easily amused ...

but if you ended up at this post by googling "screw god" -or- "god ratings plummet" -or- "God screws millions, others tan" and have no idea what I'm talking about. Click here.

Seriously though I did want to add:

what's a party without SpinachDip?

what attitude problem?
- he's likely going to be one happy Colts fan by season's end

and they didn't beg to get on the list, as you might suspect. It just so happened my blog assistant messed up the dictation and thought I was talking about real spinach dip, and a real attitude problem


TAN Sees Ratings Spike, Thanks God And A Million Others

I don't have a blog roll list, primarily for two reasons.

One, I have too many posts that are hot like fire to waste time linking to others.

Two, I don't know how to do it. I still pace the room and murmur to myself if I want to embed a link outside of the blogger interface. blog roll is likely scheduled sometime this winter.

So if you like your blogs arrogant, please suck on reason #1. If you like humility, feel free to nibble on reason #2.

In the meantime, blog roll notwithstanding, I have definitely seen a boost in the traffic here recently. So I want to take a moment to toss some salad for those who have embraced TAN and spread the gospel.

So after this love connection, The Assimilated Negro will be back in two and two...

Gawker – How "Gawk At This" avoided the front page is beyond me, but I still feel their ripple effect, even if they're swimming in a different pond.

Blogebrity – who is rumored to be considering creating a D-list just so I can go on it

TMFTML – who said Gawk At This had apocalyptic implications ... or something like that.

Anil Dash – who's a veteran of this blog game, but still let me threaten him with a gat in his own comment section

Hugh/Gaping Void
- who may be the only person who complimented me without some qualification or caveat. And in return I criticize him on my next post. How TAN of me. But he's talking global microbrand now, which is gold, so he doesn't care.

Rach-a-el, Orange, Gia – who have made it seem like girls (and even the occasional woman) actually like me.

Jack – because she lives in the hood and is therefore avant garde.

– for helping me get some sports peeps in here.

Straight Bangin – for helping me get some negro peeps in here. Even though I don’t think they comment...

Mark Rayner – who’s been linking my Negroese for a few weeks straight in his Carnival of Satire.

Everyone who inexplicably made "Beans and Milk" my most commented on post thus far.

Krucoff - for making the Battle of the TAN Jam happen, even though we didn't get much voter turnout.
Patches, Cuddles, and God for making my 100 things list so gosh darn interesting

This is What We Do Now“I have a blog” is one of the funniest things I've read recently.

PT Anderson – who is apparently more interesting and search-worthy than anything having to do with the word “negro.”

Ok, that's all I can muster for now. Must let mouth heal. Anyone I forgot, please take a long look in the mirror and think about how much this really means.

If you still want to complain, let me know so I can blog about it.


Late Night Host David Letterman Gunned Down Very Late At Night

Late night “turf wars” explode violently

New York, New York (AP) -- The violent conflicts so often associated with hip hop spilled over into the mainstream late last night, when widely recognized “Big Poppa” of the late night talk show world, David Letterman, was fatally gunned down while heading to his car.

There was one witness who did not see the crime, but did hear the late night perpetrator scream out, “you’re out too late at night this time Letterman!” Gunshots and Dave's screams were the sounds that followed.

Most speculate that the beef between he and Leno's Tonight Show crew is the reason for Dave’s fatal demise.

Jay Leno when hearing of the tragedy released this statement:
I sincerely hope the media doesn’t twist this story into something that will only cause more problems. The brief-but-impressive ratings spike a story like this will provide your network is not worth the lives that may be lost if I am forced to have to defend my family … and staff of writers.

I will say it once. I was not involved with Mr. Letterman’s violent death, and though our relationship was adversarial, I would always prefer to settle beef on the tube. Going mono-y-monologue as it were.


My heart and deepest condolences go out to his family.

And now … Kevin Eubanks and The Tonight Show band!!!

After the band played a few songs Mr. Leno flashed the “J-L” hand-sign that has become his trademark and left the building.

While Leno is the main suspect, there are some who say band-leader Max Weinberg of The Conan O’Brien show is worth investigating. If Letterman were rubbed out, Conan and Max would potentially be in line to take over, thereby not having to wait for Leno to retire.

While officials try to sort out the details of this harrowing tale of vengeful murder, Paul Schafer has started a tribute blog to Letterman called, "Dave the GOAT"

It can be found at this easy to type url:

Mr. Schafer will also be releasing a double-cd tribute album called, Sorrow Whispers. The album will feature guest appearances from: Nelly, Gwen Stefani, The Black Eyed Peas, Kelly Clarkson, Gwen Stefani, Nelly, Kelly Clarkson and The Black Eyed Peas. The first 1000 customers get free bonus video of Lil’ Kim in jail. The last 1000 get bonus video of “Too Late with Adam Carolla”

Sorrow Whispers will be available on CD and in the iTunes music store tomorrow.

"Host the Late Show or Die Trying" t-shirts are available now on

The iLetterman model ipod is expected to be ready in time for the Christmas rush.

If you feel me, let off a couple shots, and spill a little liquor for Big Dave the Greatest Of All Time ...

5824 people are Googling "Sorrow Whispers" cause they like the lineup of artists

Tuesday, October 18, 2005

Angelina Jolie Kidnaps Mom, Demands Sex For Her Safe Return

The word on blogstreet is that you're supposed to keep your blog focused and niche-specific. This is the way to build your core audience.

So with that in mind, after posting for introspective males, gawker users, dodgeball users, people who speak with their eyes, and fantasy football enthusiasts ... I figure this one is a quick thought for any woman or man who wouldn't mind a night of passion with Angelina Jolie.

Let's say you were happily married. And let's say you had a wonderful mother that you loved very dearly.

Now let's say Angelina Jolie kidnaps your mother and threatens to kill her unless you have a night of passionate sex with her. Sort of an indecent proposal, but with no money involved.

This would be a pretty cool scenario. But not for the sex with Angelina (though media speculation says that's likely to be a bonus as well), but because later when having a fight with your partner you would be able to say in all seriousness, "Listen!! I had to fuck Angelina Jolie!! It was the only goddamned way to get my mother back goddammit!!! If you can't respect that, you're just being selfish!!"

as an addendum, I found this quote on one of the Jolie links:

"I need more sex, okay? Before I die I wanna taste everyone in the world."
-Angelina Jolie

if they camp outside for blocks when Star Wars opens, the line for this should end in South America. The Jolie Motorcycle Diaries anyone?

Deadspin / Fantasy Football Roundup (week 7)

Deadspin picked up my "tough guy wonders what friends think" bit. So I’ve been getting some sports traffic pumped in today. And since I haven’t talked about sports in a few weeks, it’s as good a time as any to jump in with a fantasy sports roundup.

Week 7 looms, and like every week in the NFL, it’s a big one.

For those of you wondering what The Assimilated Negro knows about sports, let alone fantasy sports, all I can say is I when I watch games I watch them on my Sharp Aquos flat-screen tv given to me by ESPN for fantasy football domination. Millions play, but few land the Aquos

You think about that while I iron my stack of league championship t-shirts with a water bottle.


It’s tempting to say sell on Bledsoe. But with Seattle, Arizona, Detroit, Denver, Giants (again), and Kansas City in six of the next seven games, there’s no reason to bail unless you get a crazy offer. He’s going to be a bonus for whoever has him this year.

On the flip side Carson Palmer has Pittsburgh and Baltimore four times in the next six weeks. The Bengals have one loss, so you know some bad play is coming.

Daunte Culpepper and Trent Green are great buy low candidates. Both have seen their worst days already and have only upside ahead. They could be top 5 for the rest of the season.

Peyton, Brady, McNabb, Culpepper, Favre, & McNair are my top six guys I’d like to have going forward.

Running Back

Steven Jackson should get more work with both Bulger and Mike Martz out. New Orleans, Seattle, Zona and Houston in four of the next five.

If you are a Cadillac Williams owner, and you are not in a keeper league, you should look to cash in those rookie-splash chips. Pittman will continue to eat into his touches as TB will not want to break the rookie down. Carolina, Washington, Chicago in three of the next five doesn’t help.

With Brunell to Moss becoming a factor in Washington, Clinton Portis should be the primary beneficiary, his numbers should improve.

Marcell Schipp is a nice cheap sleeper RB. Coming out the Arizona bye teams will now be very focused on stopping Fitzgerald and Boldin. Schipp is a solid runner, and the Dennis Green offense will get better as the season goes on.

Wide Receiver

Santana Moss is always a feast or famine guy, and those guys kill you. If you can deal him for good value, jump on it.

If you haven’t noticed already Kevin Curtis is the real #2 WR in St. Louis. Bulger going down hurts, but he should continue to be a solid producer since Holt commands so much attention.

Jerry porter gets his chance to step up with Moss hobbled.

Joe Jurevicius is a perfect fit in Seattle. A big “hands” receiver is just what they needed. You may have gotten him off FA, but he’s a solid #2 WR even when Darrell Jackson returns.

I’d bail on the Indianopolis WR’s. There’s too much hype around them for too little consistency. Reggie Wayne will have better games, probably soon, now that the Peyton/Harrison record is done. But if you can get value off the Indianopolis brand name, I’d go for it. Edgerrin James is the guy to own to cash in on the Indy offense.

Tight End

If you can get Tony Gonzalez for cheap, obviously go ahead and do it. But as noted in the preseason, TE, once very thin, is now fairly deep these days. Tony, Gates, Shockey, Crumpler, McMichael, Witten are all top shelf performers. Todd Heap has been getting back in the groove, and LJ Smith, Chris Cooley, jermaine Wiggins, and Heath Miller aren’t bad. If you only have to play one, you don’t need to sweat the TE position, it’s all good.


defense is tough this year. The Colts are clearly for real, and have a very songy cake-like schedule. Baltimore will return to form. I'd be wary if I were Cincy reliant, thir run defense is sketchy.

That's all. Week 7 Wrap.


Speak With Your Eyes, Talk To The Hand

I think we need more focus and study on eye contact. There’s so much going on there that we haven’t explored. We should be studying this stuff in grade school, instead of cavemen and dinosaurs. Maybe Malcolm Gladwell could do his next book on the subject, Blink 2: Blinking Without Blinking(??).

Because even in the thriving metropolis that is NYC, you could probably get away with most of the population not saying more than a handful of words a day. Communicating only through eye contact.

I submit a snippet of my day as an example:

Today I got on the train, I looked at this guy, and he saw me notice the Notre Dame hat on his head. Without saying a word, we consoled each other on a tough loss.

Then I looked around and locked eyes with this cute girl, and her eyes told me she wanted me.

Then I looked at another girl, and she wanted me also.

And then I looked at a third girl, and she was looking away, but in a way that said she really wanted me.

In response my eyes told them I know The Assimilated Negro represents the best of both worlds, but right now there’s no room in the bed for me, you, AND the ibook. My ibook is 14”, so it’s probably not going to work.

Eventually I got off the train and headed to the stairs. While walking I looked at the person next to me, and by the end of our short soundless conversation we both knew that I was going to be in front of him in line as we exit.

Then as I was about to go through the exit turnstile, someone beat me to it, swiping their metrocard and entering before me. My eyes explained to them that if there wasn’t such a crowd right now I would kick them in the groin, but they could go right ahead ... this time.

Once out the station I saw the guy I always see when I’m getting out the station, and both our eyes said, “oh, you again. I wonder if you notice this extremely insincere half-smile I’m giving you. I wish you would change routes so I wouldn’t have to keep seeing your all-too-familiar face.”

So after all this train drama, my eyes were a little tired of talking. So what did I do? I stopped by the nearest bagel guy, closed my eyes, and said, “can I get a cinnamon raisin bagel, plain. Thanks.”

I then opened my eyes only to notice this girl walking by. Our eyes connected, and yup, you guessed it, she wanted me.

So I walked over and was about to tell her how my blog is great, and (most) everyone else is poop, but she looked in my eyes, ascertained my intent and exclaimed, “Don’t even bother Negro. Seriously. Just talk to the hand.”

And thus the title of this post.

We're Playing Dodgeball!!

Since it was shouted out by Young Manhattanite I'm posting the Dodgeball song here as well, so those who want to can play directly.

Dodgeball is mobile-social-software. It's basically a combination of a GPS system and Friendster for your phone. And all you need is the ability to text message. If you're out on the town, you send a text and dodgeball tells your network of friends where you are located.

There are now other imitators, but Dodgeball is the original, and the best. Or at least, so thought Google.

Here's the bomdiggy audio:

I wrote the lyrics back in 1990...

Monday, October 17, 2005

VOTE OR DIE!! - The Sequel

Many have peeped the blogger jam - "Gawk At This" by yours truly.

But not nearly as many have heard the song I did for

One of the cofounders of Dodgeball was a friend of mine in college, and shortly before they were picked up by Google, I did a song for them. After the Google announcement, I added a second verse.

So today the Young Manhattanite Andrew Krucoff has thrown down the gauntlet and asked the people to decide who truly has the Blogger Jam for '05.

So since we botched it with the president, you should head over there, check the tunes, and then Vote Or Die!!

The winner gets to shoot The Assimilated Negro eight times to help him prepare for his new movie, "Get Assimilated, Or Die Tryin'"


Breaking News: Tough Guy Wonders What Male Friends Are Thinking

October 17, 2005

Tough guy speculates on male friends' inner thoughts

Austin, Texas (AP) -- After a hectic weekend of sports action, reputed tough guy Luke Steele reluctantly admitted to wondering what his male friends are thinking on occasion.

“It’s taken me a while to grow comfortable with this, but there have been times where we’ve been hanging out drinking, watching the game, and I’ve made a comment about something and no one responds. This weekend after the Notre Dame/USC game I asked what they thought about gender roles and how they’re evolving in the new millennium, and everyone was silent. At the time I played it off saying, ‘well who cares what her role is, as long as she’s got a nice ass and a fine pair of knockers, right?’ They were still looking at me weird, so then I told them I was going to the zoo to wrestle with a bear and take food from a lion … but when I left I really just walked around wondering what they thought, in terms of what I said, and you know, just life in general.”

Mr. Steele continued, “The big thing was, everyone was quiet, so I figured, you know, they had to be thinking something …but maybe they weren’t, maybe some of us guys just black out … I don’t know … that’s why I wonder.”

When the incident was reported to Luke’s friend Nikolai Oxstrong he replied, “Huh? I didn’t hear the question, and I will never hear the question.”

Another friend, Hardy Hardrock, claimed to misunderstand the query, “when I heard him use the phrase ‘gender roles,’ I thought that was some sort of jargon for asking what online porn sites I like the most. I was silent because I don’t really have a favorite. I like them all. Very much so.”

Wife Daisy Mae supported her man saying, “actually he asks me what I’m thinking all the time …”

Luke looked at his wife in astonishment then sheepishly told reporters that “she’s just joshing.” He then ran away after smashing a beer can on his forehead and saying nothing matters to him more than his “Longhorns winning the championship.”

Sunday, October 16, 2005

And There Will Be Much Rejoicing

I was going to write something funny about the results of this Gallup poll on interracial dating. But I couldn't do it through the tears of joy streaming down my face.

Thanks to Orange for the info.

And since it's clearly no coincidence that the rise of the TAN blog coincides with America's acceptance of interracial dating, we do have another item to add to the Trends I Started page...

TAN Audio Room

Because I've dispensed the audio hotness in various places, I thought it would be thoughtful to concentrate all the fire into one sauna-like post. Plus the effect/range is enhanced through consolidation.

I'll keep updating this as I add more:

21 More Questions (send-up of 50 Cent's "21 Questions")

Rough Draft: Blogging's The New Rapping (send-up of Jay-Z's "30 Something")

Baby Jamz™ Prototypes (For the kidz!)

Kill Yourself (the hip hop/blogger suicides)

Got Some Nerve??? (ode to

Blogging All Over New York (send-up of Ludacris' "Pimping all Over the World")

My Name's Not (send-up of Eminem's "My Name Is")

Gawk At This (ode to Gawker and Jessica Coen)

Girls I Like ... (ode to my fav caucasian females)

This One Is For Krucoff (ode to Krucoff & Conde Nast)

The Eternal Now (all we have is now, now, I mean now)

We're Playing Dodgeball!!! ( Ditty)

What's The Formula Yo? (Glaceau/Vitaminwater and Snap Marketing)

Prelude To A Drunkcast (For Girlspoke ... this is no joke)

Just Like Me (rough freestyle)

Paid In Full ... (To Blog)

Road To Nowhere (storytelling time)

Rough Draft: Best Friend's Wedding

FreeWrittens: Butter On Hominy Grits

also: The TAN Demo: Theater of the Assimilated Negro

can TAN be down?

Friday, October 14, 2005

Go Ahead, Steal My Identity. Please.

so someone told me I should be careful with how much personal information I disclose on the internet. Which you can't really argue with as sound advice. But I was wondering if they were concerned about the apparent epidemic of identity theft spreading across the country.

Because I'm not.

Quite frankly, things haven't taken off the way I'd like. So I wouldn't mind resetting the 'ol identity odometer . Therefore if any identity thieves are lurking about figuring out how to become The Assimilated Negro, let me help you out:

First Name: Broke

Last Name: Negro

Middle Name: Ass

SS# : 021 – 47 – 6402

Amount owed in loans - $500000000000000000000000000000000

Amount of revenue currently being contributed - $00000000000000000000000000.01

# of current friends: 0

# of former friends who are owed money: 427000000000000000000000000000000

# of bounced checks in the state of Virginia: 5,269

I think this can get you on your way.

I have a street team handing out flyers and t-shirts with my social and other key information. Please use it yourself, or forward it on to your friendly neighborhood identity thief.

Also, in the interest of full disclosure, I should mention that debt collectors are actually writing this blog for me because I told them on the phone that my words are the only thing I own.

When I asked them for a break, they told me to watch this informative video.

So go ahead, please steal my identity. I dare you.


Experience The Theater of the Assimilated Negro

Anyone who may just be joining us via the blurb in The Village Voice - Best of NY, I have created a separate area for you (and anyone else) to experience the Theater of the Assimilated Negro in peace, without having to hear about ish like guinea pigs dying, apples & oranges, and rappers killing themselves.

Thank god!! Say no more. Please. Just take me to the most creative hip hop demo ever assembled ASAP.

To the two of you still reading, rest assured I'll continue to post audio here at The Assimilated Negro as well.

Here where the serenades of pretty girls who can boost your traffic, and Eminem parodies flow like wine.

Here where even the negroes know your name.


Thursday, October 13, 2005

How Mike Jones, Gawker, and the Best of NY Village Voice Came Together To Work On TAN's Behalf

You know Mike Jones is said to have made his name by making personal songs for strippers at his local club. So if I make personal songs for Gawker, shouldn’t I be able to run for president in a couple years. At the least as Barack’s running mate? He already gave an endorsement during the TAN commercial.

Feedback has been nice for “Gawk At This.” Though I can’t believe Gawker themselves couldn’t give me a front page mention. The guide is cool. But can we get some negro perspective up in the comments area? It was hiphop Thursday over there, and I can’t get a little tie-in. A little invite from Nicky D. Can’t we all just get along?

Maybe they need a little more substance.

the kids say I got that underground buzz ...

I say thanks for the love, but ummm .... you should know the rest

more personal inquiries recently, I'll respond with a 100 Things About TAN ... if I can count that high.

Wednesday, October 12, 2005

Gawk At This (Gawker Audio)

So today actually marks the thirty-day anniversary of The Assimilated Negro.

Now I'm not a herb who cares about these things, I only know because some TAN-fans started caroling outside my window. "We love you negro, oh yes we do, we love you negro, oh yes it's true ..."

Before starting TAN I was pretty oblivious to the blog-world. I had never taken a Dooce, lost my Kottke’s, or heard of someone riding a bus in LA, let alone blogging about it. Nor the premise for the other googillion blogs out there.

And I am very appreciative for the support I’ve received as a bloggie-baby. I’ve made some new friends, learned some new things, and generally been impressed by the sheer magnitude of compelling content. My proclamation of every other blog being poop notwithstanding.

But as I enter the second month, I feel I’ve gotten my feet under me, and now I'm interested in shifting gears and, well ... *whispers* .... getting more people to check an assimilated brother out.

Along those lines, one blog I did hear about, even when I had heard about no blogs, was Gawker.

And so I find it a little ironic (and potentially racist) when Gawker and A High Class Jackass talk about blogs having “jumped the shark” ….

I say it’s all together possible that blogs have jumped the shark. But I also believe in the power to renew, refresh, and revitalize. In a word (ideally one that starts with “re”), the power to revolutionize.

Maybe things have gotten a little stale and humdrum. But things can change. We can alter the recipe. We can add a little spice, a little flavor, a little – dare I say – hip hop ...

Some people do drawings on business cards, some do blog gossip and news … here at The Assimilated Negro, in addition to being hotter than a hot pocket in the hottest microwave set on hot, we provide TAN-Jams.

So with that preface I now present what should be The Blogger Jam ’05 (or at least the jam for the minute-and-a-half it takes to listen (preferably with headphones and the volume up high)). Complete with your own set of double parentheticals.

Gawker lovers, feast your ears on the New Melanin Pipeline, bringing organic man-made apocalyptic environment-safe hip-hop marketing fuel to a blog-train that was sputtering … just a little.

Gawker wasn’t the first the first to receive this love/treatment, they won’t be the last. But for now …


Nice, can I see the lyrics???

Damn that was hot!! Ok. Now I want to tell Gawker about how The Assimilated Negro rocked their world !!

more TAN audio for me please...


For Anyone Wearing A Wet Pair Of Lucky Brand Jeans

Today I was wearing Lucky Brand jeans. (I got a pair with my Negro Assimilation Program (NAP) certification). And today, as anyone in NYC knows, it was miserable. Full body soakage kind of day. You had to bring your poncho.

At midday my jeans were clinging to my legs like a leotard, and since I’m real alpha-male tough guy like I was feeling pretty self-conscious. And right at the height of these emotions I happened to pass a Lucky Brand jeans store. So I went in and asked if I could swap my wet pair of Lucky Brand jeans for a dry pair. Preferably one that had a little bit more of a negro-wash.

He told me that they had caucasian-wash only, and that he couldn’t swap the jeans, but I could buy a new pair and he’d give me a bag for the old ones.

He said he couldn’t do anything beyond that. Company policy.

So this is just an FYI if you’re ever in the same scenario. No moisture exchange program at the Lucky Brand Jeans company.

I'm going over to E-pinions now to write my review, and that's definitely going to bring down their overall score.
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