Man Among Boys

This post has 546 words. It will take approximately 5 minutes, 27 secondes for reading it.

…you know what it is?…it’s dumb n*gga technology.  It lets dumb n*ggas,  talk to other dumb n*ggas, about dumb n*gga sh*t… – Gin Rummy, from Season One of “The Boondocks”

I like social media..for the most part.  Twitter, Facebook, chat rooms.  It’s a whole new way for people to communicate with each other no matter where they are in the world.  It’s a cheap and fun way to let people know what’s on your mind, or to update a quick status on what you’re up to.

It’s also a way for chickenheads to cluck across the internet.  So I’m going to put this one in the “Just Not Manly” category, even though it applies to women too.

What the hell is going on with some of the people on Twitter and Facebook?  People lost their damn minds over that little blue bird.  Maybe because they can be anonymous with a fake name and not have to meet people, but that’s no reason to get stupid.  Women are all over the web claiming how much the love God with their ass hanging out; the Lord don’t need to see ya thong.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for having fun, but some of this stuff is just stupid.  One tweet I saw the other day from a Tweeter with a lot of followers said

About to guzzle down some Hennessy like if it was (another Tweeter’s) d*ck…

First, she comes off like a drunk bitch.  Second, she comes off like a drunk bitch that makes her living on her knees.  Have some gotdamn self-respect.  I don’t understand what makes her think this is a good idea.  I’m not judging anyone…but she’s probably single and has been ran through like Adrian Peterson through the Minnesota Vikings offensive line.

That wasn’t an isolated incident.  Another one I saw from a young girl that said she wanted to ride a guy’s d*ck and lick the cum off.  The biggest problem I had was that Twit Pic looked like she was about 15.  At least she has a goal in life; most 15 year old girls just want to chase after Justin Bieber.

(Note:  I hate Bieber’s little punk ass, but I can’t knock his hustle.  He’s got about ½ a billion fans and Twitter followers, little boys and girls are putting his name in their screen names.  Can’t knock his hustle…but get a damn haircut.)

Fellas, you are not exempt.  Some of you are chickenheads, too.  Why does every dude who lifts two weights and gets a little bit of a pump feel the need to take his shirt off in his pic?  Cut that fruity sh*t out with that stupid stand-in-front-of-the-mirror-with-your-cell-camera-pose.  That is some really suspect sh*t.

Makes me want to go back to regular snail mail from the U.S. Postal Service.   It took forever to get a message across the street, but at least I didn’t have to worry about some idiot that wants to call himself YungSwole, or some other asshole standing looking tough in his bathroom showing his tattoos.  Moron.

Feel free to comment.

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This post has 628 words. It will take approximately 6 minutes, 16 secondes for reading it.

You have to admire greatness.  You really do.  When a person tells you they’re going to do something and they do it, that’s not cockiness or arrogance…that’s confidence. That’s greatness.  Can’t argue that.  However, when someone tells you how great they are and then comes up lame when it comes time to prove it, well, that’s just not manly.

That’s why I have to give my latest tab of “Just Not Manly” to…Floyd Joy Mayweather, Jr., aka Pretty Boy Floyd, aka Money Mayweather.  C’mon down, Floyd.

Let me first say that I’ m a huge Mayweather fan.  Floyd Jr. is an awesome boxer.  In my opinion, he’s the best in the game right now, hands down.  He’ll tell you he’s the best in the game too. Not only that, he’ll tell you he’s the best of all time…

(Note:  I don’t even think HE really believes he’s the best of all time, and if he does he’s a fool.  He says that mainly for self promotion, and he’s good at it.  Floyd has a rich knowledge of boxing history and knows in his heart of hearts that Sugar Ray Robinson is the greatest of all time.  I have Floyd Jr. in my top 25 or so, but no higher than that.)

The problem I have is that he’s talking a lot of sh*t right now, but he won’t step in the ring with the man many people say is the best right now, Manny Pacquaio.  Pacquaio fights like the Tasmanian devil throwing punches in bunches, but he can’t box for squat.  I think Floyd would, to paraphrase NFL great Lawrence Taylor, “beat the boogersnots out of him” by unanimous decision, and it wouldn’t even be close…but for some reason Floyd won’t fight him.  At first, it was the drug testing issue (Pacquaio is most likely ‘roided up) but now Pacquaio has agreed to the testing guidelines.  You’d think Mayweather Jr.  would jump at the chance to fight him, but he has, very uncharistically for him, stayed quiet.

Some say it’s because he’s scared to fight, but I don’t think so.  See they call Floyd Jr. “Money Mayweather” for a reason; he loves money more than anything else, even his legacy.  He once even said “you can’t spend your legacy,” and he’s right.  That’s why I don’t think he’s scared; Money Mayweather has at least 50 MILLION reasons not to be scared to fight Pacquaio, and that’s on the low end.  So I don’t get it.

It could be because his trainer and uncle, Roger Mayweather, is about to do time for sparring one of his female boxers without gloves in their living room.  Supposedly, he beat the crap out of her for some reason.  The Pacquaio fight would be the biggest fight of Floyd Jr.’s career, so I’m sure he’d want his team at full strength.  And I could understand that if that’s the reason…but Floyd hasn’t said anything.

Floyd, for your fans and fans of boxing in general, say something.  Better yet, say you’re ready to step between the ropes and give Pacquiao.  Hell, you fought the Big Show at Wrestlemania, so you can’t be sacred of this midget.  Please don’t tell me you talked all this sh*t and then turned b*tch when there was an opportunity to back up what you said.  That’s just not manly.

Sometimes a man has to step into the ring and fight.  It’s your turn now, Floyd.  Man up.

Feel free to comment.

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This post has 469 words. It will take approximately 4 minutes, 41 secondes for reading it.

I’m watching the Food Network this morning….

(Note:  Yes, I watch the Food Network  so I can pick up a few tips.  I can probably out-cook most of you ladies out there.  My eggplant parm is to die for and you don’t want none of me on the grill. )

I was watching “Down Home With The Neelys” and then “Big Daddy’s House”.  I love my people.  We have a spirit and a character that you can’t find in other cultures.  But sometimes, we go a bit over board.   I must sit up from the couch and change from the mild mannered (insert my government name) into Trueman because I see unmanliness going on here.  You don’t have to reinforce every negative stereotype out there.

Pat Neely…Aaron McCargo…I must deem you both “Just Not Manly“.

Aaron McCargo is starting to remind me of Step-N-Fetch.  On one episode he was cooking a picnic meal with fried chicken, potato salad, and greens.   He didn’t really talk too much about the potato salad or the greens, but he treated the fried chicken like it was manna from heaven.  He let out some loud grunts and “UMMMMMs” when he tore into the chicken breast like he never had a piece before.  Then took a spoonful of potato salad and said “You know what would make this taste better?…another bite of chicken!” and ripped of another piece.  The 2010 Chicken George.  All he needed was a hat and for Ben Vereen to teach him a few moves.  Sambo actin’ bastard, cut it out.  And while you’re at it , take those damn big assed hoop earrings out.  Unless you’re acting as Yul Brenner’s stunt double in “The King And I”, it’s not a good look.

Now, I’m going to go at Pat Neely a little bit.  He’s the husband from the cooking show “Down Home With The Neelys.”  He seems to be a genuine guy that really loves his wife.  It’s refreshing to see that level of love in a way.  But Pat…you don’t have to act so “bama.” You are not the old pimp at the club.  If he says “Heh Heh Heh Heh” one more time, I’m slapping the sh*t out of him.  You don’t have to act like you’re playing the banjo at the juke joint in “The Color Purple” (one of my all time favorites).  It’s 2010.  And grow a set.  Just because Gina is acting a country fried fool, you don’t have to.  One of you has to have some gotdamn common sense.

Aaron, Pat, man up!  Stop coonin’ for the camera.  You are embarassing yourself.  Your are embarassing me.

Just cook the damn food!

Feel free to comment.

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This post has 516 words. It will take approximately 5 minutes, 9 secondes for reading it.

I was reading an edition of USA Today this week and came across and interesting article.  The article mentioned that hispanics are moving out of Arizona quickly in response to the new immigration law that goes into effect in the next seven weeks on July 29.  Basically they are feeling that they aren’t welcome in Arizona anymore.

First, I want to say that I don’t have an issue with immigration reform; I have an issue with the way they’re doing it in Arizona.  If people are here illegally, I think we should send them back.  Let them become citizens and pay taxes, and then they can be as miserable as the rest of us for paying them.

The problem that I have is that, as quoted from the article, ” police are required to determine people’s immigration status if they are stopped, detained, or arrested and there is a reasonable suspicion they are in the country illegally.”

My problem is what constitutes reasonable suspicion?  I’ve never seen anyone with “illegal alien” tattooed on their forehead so you won’t be able to tell who is illegal and who isn’t.  It’s not like the Dr. Seuss classic “Sneeches On Beach”  and the Hispanics here legally will have “stars upon thars.”

(Even if you’re a grown up, you should read the book; it dealt with racism .  The way Dr. Seuss dealt with a lot of social issue was interesting.)

I’m not concerned with how this effects illegal aliens; I’m concerned with how this effects hard working and honest citizens.  It sounds a lot like police using racial profiling to “sort through the herd.”  I know about police and racial profiling…I’m from New Jersey.

I’m concerned because this reminds me of my days driving with a few of my friends on the NJ Turnpike and being pulled over for what seemed to be no good reason.  I remember getting the officer’s light shined in my face and being asked where I was going.  Not for my license, registration, and insurance…but for where I happened to be going.  I remember thinking that was none of his business and I’m a citizen of this country and I shouldn’t be treated like this.  It was demeaning.  But I guess I fit the profile for whatever he was looking for.

I was one of the usual suspects at the time.  Not the usual suspects happen to be brown and bilingual

There’s a saying that “it is better to  to let 100 guilty men go free than to convict a single innocent man.”  I believe that.  I don’t think we should subject American citizens to this to find people that are here illegally.  I don’t want to hear this crap that it’s a minor inconvenience to be subjected to this sort of questioning; it’s only minor until it happens to you.

There has to be a better way to do this.  And that is Trueman’s soapbox moment of the day…

Feel free to comment.

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This post has 592 words. It will take approximately 5 minutes, 55 secondes for reading it.

I’m built for pressure.  I eat it for breakfast.  I thrive on it.  When it comes down to crunch time, I want to be the one who makes the decision.  That’s what I do.  That’s what a man does.

Not all men guys like that though.  Some guys fold like a tent.  When it time for them to shine in light or hide in the darkness, they turn b*tch and run away.  They’re just not manly.  So I have to give a vote of  “Just Not Manly” to…

Vince Carter, come on down.

If you watched the Orlando Magic – Boston Celtics game last night, you saw Carter step to the free throw line with 31.9 seconds left and miss two…not one, two, freethrows.  He was Orlando’s biggest off-season acquisition.  He was supposed to be the offensive threat that would push the Magic over the top.  He was supposed to be the hired gun that would be a dead eye shooter when it mattered most.

Instead, he choked.

Carter’s missed freethrows, in essence, cost the Magic the game, and most likely a chance to go to the NBA Finals.  They were down by 3 now and the Celtics had the ball, but more than that, the Magic were deflated.  If they couldn’t go to their go-to-guy, who could they go to?

Missing the shots wasn’t the biggest problem I had with Carter.  It was that Carter not only whiffed on two freethrows…he looked he didn’t want to be the one shooting them.  You’re the best offensive player on the team, have a chance to bring your team back, and you don’t want the ball?? That not a winning attitude.  Winners want the ball when the game is on the line.

This is as much a lesson about life as it is about sports. In life, we all have times where it’s do or die, where we have people depending on us to come through.  We have to face the beast in front us and succeed in spite of.  Some people thrive on it and win….others don’t.

The best in all aspects of life, Jordan, Woods, Gates, Trump,  face obstacles and make decisions.  They don’t always make the best decisions but they’re not afraid to make them (remember, Jordan drafted all time NBA bust Kwame Brown and Gates approved Windows ME and it crashed during the its unveiling).

Carter had two routine freethrows.  If you miss one, that happens.  If you miss two, I question if you really wanted to be the man with the ball.  When I look in the mirror, I live or die with the decisions I make…but I make them.

If the Magic don’t make the NBA Finals, I think everyone will look back that that moment in Game 2 of the Eastern Conference Finals and look backto the last 31.9 seconds.  They’ll see a player that everyone looked to bring their team back, but just didn’t have the heart or confidence to come through.  They’ll see a guy who had a chance to shine but turned b*tch and ran from it.  He didn’t want the ball with the game on the line.

…maybe it runs in the family (what’s up Tracy McGrady?!).

Vince Carter, you need to man up.  You can’t live off that dunk on Fredrick Weis from the 2000 Olympics for the rest of your life (it was nice though)…

Feel free to comment.

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This post has 663 words. It will take approximately 6 minutes, 37 secondes for reading it.

I love the Backspin station on my Sirius satellite radio. It plays some really good songs.  Sometimes, an old school throwback will make you think about things that happen today.  Trueman is about to let you see his softer side for a minute.

I was driving and listening to “Teenage Love” by Slick Rick (easily one the top 5 lyricists of all time and his album, “The Great Adventures of Slick Rick”, should be in your MP3 player).  Of course, I started singing along and that got me to thinking that even though this is a teenage love, love doesn’t change too much as we get older.

Neither does getting played.

Fellas, if you are having trouble getting someone you’re fond of, been in a relationship with, or even in a relationship with to notice you, she may not be in love with you anymore.  She might not even like yo ass.  There, I said it.  Accept that and move on.  If she doesn’t want to talk to you or spend time with you, she most likely getting it from elsewhere (yes, your girl too).

This has happened to every guy at one time or another, including yours truly. You constantly try to let her know she’s on your mind by calling or texting her. You drop little hints and make every excuse you can just to hear the sound of her voice. You try to invite her out and she just brushes it off.  She’s always busy or says that she doesn’t feel comfortable.  She always turns things around on you and makes it seem like you are the one with the problem, even when you weren’t arguing.

You’ve stepped out of your mancave and expressed how you feel, and that’s tough because that’s not something a man usually does.  You put yourself out there on a limb, hoping she’ll reach out and catch you and return your affection.

But she doesn’t, does she?  She’s plays around with you.  Basically, she’s ripping your heart out of your chest, placing it on a tee, and field goal kicking it through the uprights.

But what do you do?  How do you move on?

You say “f*ck that b*tch”.  That’s what you do.

Get over her.  Make her a permanent part of your past before she becomes a fixture in your mind.  Pretend she doesn’t exist anymore.  She knows what she’s doing.  She’s playing with your emotions.  Move on.

She may even say that she loves you too, but if her actions don’t say the same,  be out.  I’ve seen too many fellas try to keep pressing the issue only to be staring at the bottom of a bottle of cheap vodka, playing old love songs and crying themselves to sleep.

Yeah, it sucks, but keep your pride.  Keep your manhood.  Realize that things are a done deal and move on.  I was told that takes men longer to fall in love, so it takes time longer to fall out of it; that very well may be true.

But it all starts by saying “f*ck that b*tch”….and visiting your local strip club’s VIP room wouldn’t hurt either.

• Fellas, if this guys sounds like you, grab your sac to check if it’s still there and remember your are A MAN.  You’ve been through worse and you’ll get through this.
• Ladies, if you sound like one of the sorry asses that is playing a fella, cut it out.  You’ll have your ah-ha moment soon enough.  He’s probably a good dude and you’ll be sorry.  Stop playing with his heart; either reciprocate his feelings or tell him you’re not feeling him anymore.

I’m here for you, fellas.  We’ll get through it together…one $10 lapdance at a time.  Man up.

Feel free to comment.

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This post has 483 words. It will take approximately 4 minutes, 49 secondes for reading it.

“Sisters get respect, b*tches get what they deserve..” – Jay-Z from his song “B*tches and Sisters” off the Blueprint 2 album

This is no more true than with stupid b*tches.  I had another post about dumb b*tches called “Dumb B*tches Wanted: Inquire Within“, (still lookin’ for one of those) but a stupid b*tch is something else all together.  I don’t understand them.

I got a story to tell.  It happened a few weeks ago but I waited on it because I wanted to see if I wanted to put it out. But hey, I gotta be me.

I was going to eat at this strip mall when I noticed the car in front of me stop short and put on its hazards.  As I went around I noticed this guy and this girl fighting..yes FIGHTING.  Fist fighting in the car.  I slowed down to see if they would stop if they noticed someone looking at them but they didn’t. Dude was towering over in the seat and punching her like a pimp does a ho that’s holding out.

So Trueman did what Trueman does.

I stopped the car, snatched him up, got dude off her, and broke it up.  Dude acted like he wanted to do something but he knew better.  He’s crazy, not stupid.  He ran his mouth a bit (as he was backing away) and walked off.  I checked on her to see if she was OK and she said she was fine.  She wasn’t bruised or anything but still, he seemed to get getting her pretty good.  I asked if she wanted to call the cops but she said no and that she just wanted to go.  I double checked to make sure and she hurried back into the car.

That’s when a victim became a stupid b*tch.

She gets in her car, speeds up to where Mr. Ass Whupper is, opens the door, and lets him back in the car.  Then they pull off together.

I stood agape with disbelief.  If he whups her ass again, that’s on her.  Not because someone came to her defense once before but because she let him back in.  He was not hitting her in self-defense.  He was leaning over her and giving her an old school Mike-Tyson-Carl-Williams-hit-you-so-hard-you-forgot-your-own-name-buttkickin’.   I don’t understand it.

Why would she let him back?  I’m not asking if she should have (no way in hell), but why?  That’s a stupid b*tch for your ass right there.

If he beats her ass again, she should look in the mirror.  It’s her own fault.  Not because he’s entitled, but because she let him back in the car.

I just don’t get it.

If anyone out there has been in a similar situation, help me understand this one.  Feel free to comment.

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This post has 109 words. It will take approximately 1 minute, 5 secondes for reading it.

Afternoon, Man Among Boys readers.  Instead of giving you a blog today, I want to tell you about a new collaboration called Block Standard (www.blockstandard.com).

Block Standard is a collective of like-minded and like mission men who decided to pool their individual insights into one blog for the immediate dissemination of information that enables you to improve your money-making capabilities. You’re going to get a lot of different views from different people from a lot of different angles, each building on the other.

The goal is to empower you with knowledge.  What you do with it is completely up to you.

Block Standard…“Redefine Your Corner”

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This post has 840 words. It will take approximately 8 minutes, 24 secondes for reading it.

When we’re going through a bad situation or seeking help, we often look for someone to analyze our problems.  This leaves vulnerable, and we’ll listen to just about anyone that lends an ear and seems to know what they’re talking about.

That’s very dangerous.  When you’re at your lowest is when you need to hear what people are saying the most.  There are millions of snake oil salesmen out there that lack substance, but because it sounds like relieving words at a time of need, we take it as gospel.

That’s when people fall for the “okie doke.”

For those of you who don’t know what that “okie doke” is, that’s when someone gets played for a fool.  Think of all those internet scams out there that promise $1000 a day for 15 minutes work…and all you have to do is make 3 payments of $39.95 for it.  That sounds like a godsend…but if it were that easy, there wouldn’t be a broke ass on the planet.   A lot of people fall for the “okie doke” on a regular basis.

The reason I bring this up is I was listening to an urban radio station today and heard a classic example of the “okie doke”.  A psychic was on and invited people to call in and discuss their problems.  A  young woman named Trina called in to ask the psychic if she should stay with her child’s father.  She said he comes around to spend time with her and the baby, but that they don’t see eye to eye.

A slick talker would be able to take a lot out of the italicized passage and use leading questions to guide someone in the direction they want the conversation to go in, luring them into the “okie doke”.  The psychic skillfully asked  series of questions that didn’t really say much, but had Trina thinking she was the second coming….

You probably feel overwhelmed with work and taking care of the baby, right?

Uh, no sh*t.  Basically, Trina’s a single mom, and there may be no tougher job in the world than that. Unless she’s on welfare, she’s working.  I know I talk a lot of sh*t about the ladies, but I acknowledge and appreciate the hard work a single mom puts in holding down a 40 hour a week job, and then coming home to cook dinner and help the kids with homework.  She must be tough in a tough situation.

The psychic made Trina feel appreciated, like someone out there understands what she’s going through.  Whether the psychic was single and had children or not is irrelevant; she made Trina feel like she could relate and played the sympathetic friend.

The first part of the “okie doke” is to make someone feel like they are safe and can trust you; a boa constrictor always hugs its prey before squeezing it to death.

(On a Side Note:  Some of you ladies brought this upon yourselves. A lot of times, you nagged a good man to death and drove him away.  The next time you want to blame someone, look in the mirror instead of calling your girlfriends and complaining that there are no good men out there.  He wanted to help with kids with homework and make family time, but you were steady b*tchin’ about the toilet seat being up.  The toilet seat is down now, but there’s no man in sight.  Dummy.)

There were probably money issues, right?

That’s not exactly a leap of faith since money is one of, if not the, top reason couples separate, whether it be one uses it to control the other, or just that the bills and necessities aren’t being taken care of.  And we the current economic state of the country, chances are money issues would apply to Trina too.

Even though he come by to see the baby and make family time, you’re still not happy, right?

All the psychic did here is repeat what Trina first told her but in the form of a question.  She didn’t really add anything, but the way she phrased the question makes it seem like she did, kind of like the “Great Repeater” at the office, who just repeats everything everyone else says with a few gestures and some big words thrown in.

xxxxxxxxx…RIGHT?

Notice how the psychic ended each question with the word right.  She’s TELLING Trina these are the reasons for her issues, even if they aren’t.  Right isn’t used to confirm, but to control.  For someone already having troubles, hearing that this is right is like finding the cause to your problems…even though they are something all together different.

After Trina hung up, I’m sure she felt like she had the source of all her problems…but she really didn’t get much help.

That’s the “okie doke” for you.  Feel free to comment.

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This post has 335 words. It will take approximately 3 minutes, 21 secondes for reading it.

I was at a dinner party this a few weeks with some former co-workers and old friends.  We had a few drinks, sat around and started talking sh*t about all the world’s problems, one of which being…men.  Not the typical-woman-man-hating-wanting-to-castrate men but more asking where have all the real men gone.  We started jumping from dating to education to fashion, and skinny jeans came up…

…so you know I jumped all on that.  And if you have to guess which side of the issue I stand on, you are not TrueMan Approved and should leave this blog now.

Our host disagreed with my views and said that it was just fashion and who was I to question what was “manly.”

I wanted to say, “Who am I??!  Who am I?!!  Dammit, I’m TrueMan, the standard to which other men are measured, and if anything I’ve said about skinny jeans offends anyone on the face of the planet, then take them out ya gotdamn closet and burn them!”

However, I kept it simple…”If not me…then who?”

There have to be bare minimums.  There have to be standards.  There have to be degrees of what a man does and what a man doesn’t do.  And there has to be someone to enforce them.  That’s where I come in…

There has to be someone to stand up for truth, justice, and the manly way.  And since no one has stood up to say things like men wearing silk scarfs, skinny jeans, and most important, anything associated with Kanye West are not manly, then dammit, I’ll step into the phone booth, change in TrueMan, and fly off to combat unmanliness wherever I see it.

A man will stand up for his belief, even if no one will stand up with him.  So dammit, I’m standing up against skinny jeans.

To my fellow men reading this blog, I ask you…who will stand with me?

Feel free to comment.

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