Fly

My Last Post About Women Ever, Part II: Questlove

I love making fun of women. I love them but I’ll be damned if I don’t get these jokes off. Y’all are so funny to me. Every duck-lipped selfie and inspirational Instagram post tickles me something fierce (that’s my new thing…saying something tickles me fierce. It sounds like something an old Black woman from Atlanta in 1968 would say. I love it) Light-skinned women make the jokes almost too easy. Self-important broads get that good HARSH sarcasm. All that’s cool but less than 24 hours away from my favorite holiday, I gotta send some love to my beautiful bitter broads.

“Quest…play the damn thing!”

Women, Valentine’s Day is YOUR holiday and when it doesn’t go exactly how you wish, emotions run high and it tickles me something fierce. The crazy thing is I have no idea if bitterness, anger, loneliness, regret, or pure, absolute, radiant craziness is the cause. It doesn’t even matter, truthfully. It’s funny as hell and tickles me something fierce. So I encourage all of you to remember that tomorrow is your day to publicly share all of those emotions with us. C’mon. Share. Shaaaaare! *Sigh*…okay, Lou. Open fire. Quest!

I laugh at your frustration. Good wholesome laughs that emanate from my gut and settle in my throat. Deep-throated laughs that make me clap my hands and collapse on the floor. Thank you, ladies. But when I finish, when I finish- if I ever finish- you can be my valentine. All of you disgruntled, fed-up women can be the objects of my affection tomorrow. I love you all and it sucks you don’t like your own holiday that one of your own people made up so that she can feel even more special than we already have to treat her because she was raised with some weird idea of a man completely pacifying her ideas of romance and she’s crazy as hell and none of you should even pay attention to this crazy broad because you deserve somebody that acts like they like you every day of the year and you should probably boycott this wack broad but I don’t blame you if you don’t because Valentine’s Day has been around so long, you have no idea how to adjust your life and that’s fine because a lot of us men just accept that this is your day and the fact that some of you don’t have that man to acknowledge that and suffer for your happiness makes me sad and I want to buy teddy bears that say ‘Bitch, You Fine’ on the stomach to make you happy and do cute stuff with you and act like nothing was the same and tickle you something fierce. *Takes breath*…Happy Valentine’s Day. Quest, please keep playing something nice for these bitter broads. And bitter broads, keep being bitter; I love you all for it.

A.J. Armstrong paid a lot of money to have ?uestlove play something nice for you bitter broads. He hopes you appreciate it. He is also the creator of The Fly Hobo and His World of Oddities

My Last Post About Women Ever, Part I: These Beautiful Cars

Women are the givers of life, the wonderful and caring creatures thaaaaxcclqiwfivneowvpropeicc…you get the point; I almost put MYSELF to sleep. They’re gorgeous and deserve our respect and all that, of course. While they do turn heads, they also leave us with our faces buried palm-deep in frustration quite often. Men are simple; women are not. Men are stupid; women are crazy. It’s some Circle of Life shit or something, I don’t know. Whatever. There are just some things I don’t understand about y’all. Namely: everything.

I agree that men are dogs. That makes it easier to compare women to the cars we chase up and down our neighborhoods without some hypersensitive feminist kickback about objectifying these broads. Not that any of that would matter to me anyway. Again: whatever. Women are cars. They are wonderfully flawless cars with exquisite paint jobs and polished wheels that attract us the minute the sun reflects off those beautiful exteriors. We chase them instinctively only to be confused and slightly aggravated two minutes after we get that driver’s side door open.

The interior SEEMS just as striking but that’s well before you start to notice the controls on the console aren’t properly marked. You try to turn on the windshield wipers only to see the high beams flickering on and off. Pumping the brakes turns on the AC somehow. The left turn signal pops the trunk and lowering the passenger side window makes the entire vehicle cry and question where you’re even going in the first place. Obviously, getting anywhere is a hassle and you sometimes look out your window and shake your head before grabbing the keys and walking out the door.

Yeah, your car probably frustrates you. It probably makes you want to smack the dash and bang your head against the steering wheel. It also gets you to where you need to be. Every button you press and every lever you pull might not do what you expect but eventually you figure it out, right? The trips are unorthodox but get much smoother the more you drive. In fact, some of those drives are amusing as you watch the eyes locking onto that exquisite paint job and those polished wheels that glisten in the sun. The car- your car- is still beautiful as hell. So yeah, a lot of these vehicles are bass-ackwards, emotional, and I joke a lot about them; I’d much rather be driving my own. Preferably that sand colored, ’14 Draya Michele.

A.J. Armstrong still takes public transportation. He is also the creator of The Fly Hobo and His World of Oddities

Homecoming King

I’ve never been voted most likely to do anything. God willing, I’ll never become famous, infamous, scandalous, or a national story. The most attention-grabbing prom date wasn’t on my arm and Homecoming King went to somebody else. I’m not popular AT ALL. I’ve never trolled for followers, got naked for Likes, or asked celebs to ‘#FB’. My blogs aren’t any more popular, either. My own friends and family don’t even read these posts. They’ll share them, sure, but I can bet that if I got them away from their phones and computers and asked what they liked about what I’ve written, they would search their brains just trying to remember the title. I’m not popular and you know what? I WOULDN’T HAVE IT ANY OTHER WAY. I can get away with so much more shit.

Being popular means you have to appeal to a large group of people in some way. Being infamous suggests you cherish the thought of carrying around a bad reputation. Being Nobody gives you the freedom to be both, because who really cares, right? If I was out here giving away turkeys like Nino Brown or driving old people to bingo or some magnanimous shit like that, it would be hard to maintain that goodwill in three hours when I shoot a mall Santa with a pellet gun. Not that I would go all Riley Freeman on Santa, but you get the point; I like having the option.

How many popular people actually can do what they REALLY want without losing admirers or being followed by a crowd that is now laughing at them? Kanye West is now a caricature sketch that nobody really takes seriously, Justin Bieber shocked the world when he wasn’t as Canadian-ly humble as we thought, and Hitler’s infamy is his only narrative (and rightfully so). That’s kind of why I oddly admire George W. Bush. That guy was an absolute Nobody that just so happened to be related to some popular people and he never failed to remind us how much he didn’t care about our perceptions of him. But then again, he’s a Texan and they’ll be seceding from the rest of the country pretty soon anyway so that probably doesn’t count.

Being Nobody isn’t about being anonymous as much as it’s about not letting people affect your choices and having titles and labels define you.

All I’m saying is being popular is hard work. Being the enemy is pretty tough, too. But being Nobody is so unique and refreshing, I wonder why more people don’t do it. The constraints are lifted, the expectations are of your own creation, and the sheep around you become blindingly white. I’m fully aware of what others want to hear but I’m too busy setting up pig’s blood over your homecoming stage to care. Happy *expletive* New Year, yo.

A.J. Armstrong is the creator of The Fly Hobo and His World of Oddities; the blog site that is- and will forever be- proudly sponsored by Nobody.

The Dissolution of Jay-Z

Thank God Nasir never made hundreds of millions of dollars. I’m happy Marshall still cares. I’m talking, of course, about Eminem and Nas. They are arguably two of the most influential and recognizable rap artists ever. Along with Jay-Z, these three represent an era of rap music that I really didn’t think was possible when I was younger: aging rappers still every bit as viable as their younger counterparts. They are all over 40 and selling just as well- if not better- than any other current rapper. Nas’ 2012 release, Life is Good, earned him another Grammy nod. Eminem is releasing The Marshall Mathers LP 2 on November 5. Both of these artists are still rapping at incredibly high levels. Why then, can’t the same be said for Jay-Z?

I might as well preface everything by stating firmly I have never been- nor will I ever be- a huge fan of Jay-Z. I have his entire catalog but I don’t CHERISH most of it. For every classic (Reasonable Doubt), there’s a total clunker (Vol. 3…The Life and Times of S. Carter, anybody?). With that being said, I’d be a delusional hater if I didn’t acknowledge that the great musical moments far outweigh the less stellar. The dude has been around this long for a reason. After listening to his latest release, Magna Carta…Holy Grail, I’m not so sure that’s a good thing.

I’ll keep my review of Magna Carta… brief: I hate it. I hate his super simplistic lyrics. I hate his endless references to his opulent lifestyle. I hate that 16 STELLAR instrumentals were wasted on this effort. However, what I hate the most is his willingness to bow and conform his flow to what’s “hot” today. It wouldn’t be as offensive if Mr. Carter hadn’t been so insistent about being the leading trendsetter in Hip-Hop. Clearly that isn’t the case anymore if he’s out here rapping like Young (insert name) from the South.

Magna Carta…, to me, confirms what I had suspected for a few years now. Jay-Z doesn’t care anymore. And why would or should he? The man is worth millions upon millions of dollars. Jay has been known to phone in whole albums at times (Vol. 2: Hard Knock Life was a literal sleepwalk for him), but this feels different. What I heard the three times I ran the album (because I just couldn’t take it after a certain point) was a man just done with trying to make art. Tom Ford reference here, Givenchy name-drop there…we get it, dude. You have a lot of money. And I also get that this has been Jay’s thing since day one but the difference here is that there’s no creativity to it. “Imaginary Player” was dipped in sumptuousness too; he just made it sound so INTERESTING.

So has Jay-Z fallen off lyrically? Yes, but only because of his lack of interest. If Shawn Carter wanted to craft another Blueprint-like masterpiece, Shawn Carter could craft another Blueprint-like masterpiece. But why would a man that has everything care to put forth that kind of effort? What kind of fool still actually CARES about making good music at this point? The people are going to buy it, regardless. How dare he make an effort to make the purchase worth it, right? I even have a name for it: The Kevin Hart Syndrome. You made the people listen to you and now that you have their ear, fuck what you babble into it.

I don’t hate Jay-Z. I just want him to quit and never rap again, that’s all. Yeah, it’s stupid that I still care about the art at this point, what with 2 Chainz and Future…doing whatever it is they call themselves doing, but I do. Jay-Z is rap’s Michael Jordan (and not in the sense that he was the greatest ever, so you Jay Stans stop. Just stop); we admired his dominance for so long that we have effectively convinced ourselves that his stint with the Washington Wizards HAD to be a success as well. It wasn’t. I live in D.C. Trust me, it wasn’t at all.

Shawn, your mark on the culture is indelible. You had fans from Delaware to Idaho wearing Yankee caps, unaware of how much I hate them (because it’s clearly about me at this point). You were why I wore a button-up on my first date in college. You’re why Rick Ross has completely ran with this whole Maybach theme. That’s kind of hyperbolic…Rick Ross clearly hasn’t run with anything EVER. You get my point, though. We owe you for keeping the culture going. Let us buy you a cake and a gold watch and exchange your microphone for a brochure for some beautiful Miami condos. Now if you’ll excuse me, I think Marshall has something to say. Ok…bye.

A.J. Armstrong is the rap fanatic debating your top ten at your houseparty and the creator of The Fly Hobo and His World of Oddities