White people are almost always smiling at something. Be it Harlem Shake videos, the television show Friends, or minorities riding the city bus, it seems that Caucasians always have a reason to smirk. This time of year, you may notice the White people you know with a different smile on their faces. It’s a weird and cryptic smile of relief, the smile group of people who have put something unpleasant behind them. That “something unpleasant” is the month of February, aka Black History Month. Yes White America, we are deep into March, which means the 28-day Chocolate Reign has long been over. Sweet freedom. No more talk about George Washington Carver, no more W.E.B Dubois or Langston Hughes, no more god damned Famous Amos. The end of February is particularly freeing for Caucasoids because of what the rest of year holds, or actually doesn’t hold. See, Dr. King’s Birthday is in January, so after Black History Month the rest of the American Holiday schedule is like a Seinfeld episode, no niggas anywhere. Yeah well, go ahead and yuk it up White folks. Have your secret end-of-February parties on soccer fields and at Whole Foods, aka places Negroes never go. While you’re having the fun that only a people that have their own country can have, we are creeping all up in to the things you used to hold dear. Because the Sicklemaster is a friend of all people including the pale faces, he’s going to help out. I will now expose the top four things that are getting Blacker right under the noses our White brothers and sisters.

 White Girl Ass

Seeing a cute White girl has completely changed in the last ten years. It used to be that you’d see an attractive White chick walking toward you and think two things. One, “I could really fuck my whole family’s Thanksgiving up with this one,” and two, “I bet she ain’t got no ass though.” The first one is still viable, but the second is disappearing fast. The moment where the cute white chick walks away no longer comes with dread-filled premonitions of force-feeding her whole milk and cornbread. No longer is there fear of feeling a snow bunny’s hip-bone during doggystyle. White girls up and got phatties somehow. Even the ones who don’t try to build them in gyms across America. I love it. While this porcelain ass revolution is delightful in my opinion, I think both White girls and guys should take caution. White girls, I know that you love 2Chainz and Weezy, but I must remind you that they are rappers. Meaning they’ve been to France and shit. Even though they’re street dudes, their personalities have been somewhat tempered by how big fame has made their worlds. You aren’t getting an accurate depiction of a real street dude with them. They are like playing street now almost, and they aren’t the guys that your cakes will be on display for anyway. Your cakes could attract dudes named Big Kenny and Daveon. They ain’t never been to France. You will be a unicorn to them. They will pull up in a Cutlass Supreme and ask you to see a movie at the Magic Johnson theaters. They will want to bring their own popcorn to the theater. They will put hot sauce on this popcorn. When they meet your father he better act right. Because if he gets out of line with them, they will fade your father out in front of you and expect you to understand. Be warned. White guys, your main issue is that Big Kenny and Daveon probably have 14 inch penises. So yeah, good luck with that.

 NBA All-Star Weekend

That the NBA is black is no secret. In the decades since league integrated, the meaning of NBA has slowly changed from National Basketball Association to Niggaz Being Athletic. What was slower to change was the fan base. Up until the late nineties, the NBA seemed to largely ignore the growing interest it was receiving from Hip Hop culture. Then guys like Iverson came, and the league almost had to change. They realized that having a bunch of tattooed, corn-rowed guys warm up to John Cougar Mellencamp looks ridiculous. It looks like you’re torturing them. So they switched up. The league embraced Hip Hop, put some rappers in some commercials and boom, you had a new NBA. An NBA that seemed to finally be reaching out to the community the majority of its players belonged to. There’s one place that this new fandom is on display more than any other:  All-Star Weekend.  It’s no longer filled with white, middle American nuclear families dying to be like Mike. It’s now Black American prom.  It’s a gathering place for huge bootied chocolate Instagram models dreaming of being inseminated by someone averaging at least 15 points per game. It’s where guys like Morris Chestnut and Nelly go to remind themselves that they’re still famous. The Sicklemaster has proof of this change. Look at this clip of the Dunk contest from 1988. Look at that crowd. That crowd looks like the same one I saw in a Jackson, Mississippi Best Buy back on June 3, 2003 which was by horrible coincidence the same day Blue Collar Comedy Tour: The Movie was released on DVD. I can still smell the chewing tobacco. Now look at this clip of the Dunk contest just 20 years later. Aggressive Blackness is everywhere. The dunkers are Black, the judges are Black the spectators are Black. The dudes commenting are Black. Actually the only non brother I saw in the entire clip is Arnold Schwarzenegger who probably feels at home with the NBA crowd because he practices the Shawn Kemp method of fatherhood.

 VH-1

Does anyone remember when VH-1 was wall to wall Amy Grant and Michael Bolton videos? Of course not, because those days have long past. The channel that was conceived as an Adult contemporary version of MTV has now become the Harlem version of MTV.  Between Basketball Wives, Love and Hip Hop, T.I. and Tiny,  plus the newly added  Black Ink Crew, an argument can be made that VH-1 has the wildest roster of niggas since Death Row records circa 1996 (with special consideration being given to the 2004 Indiana Pacers).  Unlike the previous two examples, which can be explained, no one really knows how this happened to VH-1. My guess is that the success of Flavor of Love made the higher ups realize that there will always be cash flow in incentivizing Black people to make fools of themselves. See, because they are not a totally Black network like BET, VH-1 has zero responsibility to show any quasi-intelligent or redeeming interaction between Black people at all. BET has to; it has to reflect what it believes to be the totality of the Black American experience. That means they got to give you a little Tavis Smiley action from time to time and show Roots on Christmas day. VH-1 has to do none of that. This makes me think that VH-1 is actually not going far enough. I want to see more out there shit. I have ideas. How about a mash-up buddy reality show vehicle for Katt Williams and Chris Brown called Angriest Nigga Alive: Who Will Kill First? We could put Katt and Chris is really aggravating situations like losing luggage at the Airport, or buying tickets to a Tyler Perry movie in public, then see which guy flips the fuck out first and terminates a human being. Why stop at chicks throwing glasses and pulling hair? Let’s murder someone. Each guy could have a golden bottle of liquor ready at all times to pour out for the dead peeps, and if they didn’t kill anyone they could just throw the bottles at guys they didn’t like. It just occurred to me that this is a tremendous idea because I have no idea who’s angrier. Get on this VH-1.

THE WHITE HOUSE

When you live in Hollywood, it can sometimes be necessary to do things to remind yourself you’re still Black. There’s not a lot of “Urbanness” in this neighborhood, so to find it you sometimes have to push yourself. One of the more rewarding things I’ve done to keep in tune with my people is coaching a youth basketball team. The gym was located considerably south of the I-10 freeway which is an area that White people would only find themselves in because of a good barbecue restaurant or a bad GPS signal. The players on the team were ages 11-13 and like any other kids that age, completely obsessed with success. They wanted money, fame, and all the trappings that came with it. I’d listen to them describe how they’d achieve these goals and it was all pretty typical at first. Rap record deals, NBA contracts, even some who had dreams of taking over the block Tony Montana style. Then Obama was elected President. A few days after that, I had this exchange.

Kid: Coach Van

CV: What Up?

Kid: How do you become the President?

CV: Of the United States?

Kid: Yeah

CV: Well, you have to get the most votes, which means convincing Americans you’re the best candidate through manipulation and savvy marketing.

Kid: No, I mean if I wanted to be the President, what would I have to do?

(Coach Van pauses, for some reason the sheer power of this question almost consumes him.)

CV: Ok, for one you have to get good grades, because the President has to go to college. You have to stay out of trouble, because the FBI will do a thorough background check on anyone who wants to lead the country. But mostly you have to be the best you can be at everything, because people want the President to be exceptional. That is unless your dad was President first. If your dad was president first then you only have to vaguely know your ABC’s.

Kid: I wanna be the President.

CV: It’s hard. Even if you do all that you might not get there.

Kid: I wanna try.

(Kid dribbles ball away, Coach Van contemplates tears.)

That’s all it took. One guy to win one time (now two) and things took a gigantic step forward. It may be hard for some of you to see but this picture might be the single most important image in the history of Black America. It says this. There was once a prevailing belief that we, as a Black people were snake bitten in some sort of way, that despite our best efforts, the system would find a way to shit on us. In this mindset ANY sort of positive development is cause for celebration. I remember begging for a day off from my job at Best Buy to celebrate Denzel winning the Oscar for Training Day (this happened). The presidency though? Get the fuck outta here. What could happen now that little Black kids have THAT kind of example? What if they start dreaming THAT big? Could it it be just a matter of time before the kids that society tosses to the side place their own value on  getting good grades, staying out of trouble, and being excellent? Maybe. Could that potentially turn the White House into more of a brown affair? Maybe. So many people are more afraid of that then they’d like to let on, and that’s okay by me. I suppose I’d be a little uneasy if some White dude dusted Usain Bolt in the 100, but guess what, I’d get over it. White people got faster, fuck it. Despite what you think about Obama as president, his election says one thing, America works. Maybe not all the time, maybe not like it should, but it works.

So let it begin, the Beiging of America. I say Beige because when you mesh everyone together that’s what it’ll be. A great big mish mash of Black, Yellow, Brown, and White. I’m into to it. I want the term “Interracial” to be mean more than what Alexis Texas won’t do on film. I want it to mean AMERICA.

Sicklemaster.

The Sicklemaster is many things. He’s an amazingly patient lover. He’s a devastating scorer in the low post and on the wing. He’s a dancer of unparalleled silky smooth skill and sexuality. He’s a thinker and a braggart, a man who touches you where it hurts until you like it.

He’s also a fat boy. A fat boy in soul and heart and mind and spirit. The Sicklemaster is a fat as hell.

You’re confused right now. Confused because you know The Sicklemaster.  To you he’s a 6’4 225 pound carnal dynamo of achievement and good feelings. How could he be fat? How!?

I the Sicklemaster am fat because of what the word “fat” means to me. In my opinion “fat” is not a state of body, but a state of mind. For some reason, be it nature or nurture, I like to eat in ways you couldn’t fathom. I simply cannot describe how fucking good food tastes to me. My mother being the best cook in the world did not help this. She makes fried Catfish that melts into your arteries. Gumbo that gets all up inside your soul and tickles you. She makes a destructive German Chocolate cake that happens to be the first thing I ever masturbated to. I grew up in South Louisiana, the food Mecca of North America, and I took advantage.

Being that I had a very athletic upbringing, my eating habits weren’t a problem until my activity slowed down post-college. I then blew up to this. Blah, Blah, Blah, that’s all old news.  You know me; you know I beat the fat demon inside.

What you might not know though, is just how life changes when you’re a fat dude in a fit body. Losing weight makes you like a double agent.  You start to see how your thin oppressors have rigged society in their favor. It’s pretty obscene the amount of social freedoms they have that the big bodies don’t. Across the board, life is easier for the low BMI crowd.

Because it can be hard to see the unfairness, TheSickleMaster.com is going to spotlight just five privileges fit guys have that fat guys don’t. We’ll leave the ladies out of this one.  They have a whole different set of body image issues to deal with that I actually have zero understanding of because I lack a vagina.

Naked Sex

There’s a misconception that big dudes can’t get chicks. Not true. When I was a big guy I had some really attractive ladies on my arm. With women, charm and wit are huge weapons that if utilized correctly can deliver them into your bedroom despite your size. There are things however, that are equally effective at sending them OUT of your bedroom. These include the sight of your floppy man tits, wide tank ass, and the horror of your unruly back fat. Sex is much different for fat and fit guys.  With women, fit guys get anticipation, fat guys get trepidation. If you’re fat she’s not desperate to see you with your shirt off, she’s actually hoping it won’t be that bad. To win this battle you almost have to keep your shirt on. If you don’t, you risk shocking her vagina into a dry state that is virtually irreversible. I know some of you are thinking, what about Rick Ross? He’s past fat and takes his shirt off all the time right? While having money makes Ross something of an outlier, there are some disturbing numbers we have to take a look at. Miami, Rick Ross’ hometown is currently ranked #7 amongst U.S. cities in per capita suicides. How could sunny, fun loving Miami have such a high ranking? I believe it’s because Miami is filled with chicks that in a champagne and making-it-rain induced haze, fucked Rick Ross. These women then woke up the next morning and caught a glimpse of Ross in the shower. Seeing that completely sober would be enough for any lady to go to the balcony and greet the sidewalks of the Sunshine State. Keep your shirt on, you might just save a life.

 Public Eating

Drive past a fit guy driving his car and eating fast food at the same time. You think to yourself, “what a busy guy, probably doesn’t have time to eat between meetings and being great.” Now, drive past a big dude mowing down a Big Mac at the red light. You judge him. You think his car smells like grease farts.  You think he hasn’t seen his penis since 9^th grade football physicals.  He could be fat for all kinds of reasons, but people assume it’s because he overeats recklessly. That’s why big guys should do their caloric damage in private. Restaurants are cool; everyone is eating there, but as far as walking down the street with a slice? Nope, society will judge you. Thanksgiving is particularly tough, especially if your family is Black. If that’s the case then chances are most of your relatives’ think “DAMN YOU DUN GOT BIG!!!!” is a completely appropriate greeting. I had a strategy for  those big holidays. I’d let everyone else eat first. Then when their tiny stomachs have tapped out, I’d go into the room with the food and lock the door, turn off all the lights and spark up some candles. It was intimate, it was dirty. I’d wear a condom for it. When I finally emerged, my family would look at me like I was Ben Rosthisberger leaving a bathroom stall with a co-ed. They knew what probably just happened, but were too shocked or scared to say shit.

Summer (T.S.O.T.F.M.B.)

It’s January now, so most of us are freezing our asses off waiting for those summer months to roll around. Not the fat dudes. For fat dudes summer is T.S.O.T.F.M.B. or, The Season Of The Fat Man’s Burden. When June arrives, the fun begins for fit dudes. The shirtlessness begins. The beach begins. The outside eating parties begin. AKA, shit the fat man cannot enjoy without scorn. For the fat man, summer is a perfect storm of bullshit that includes excessive sweating, wearing of unflattering summer-oriented apparel, and the aggravation of unnecessary physical activity. This is also the time period that plumper girls are most likely to become traitors, and sleep with fit guys. I can’t blame the girls for this at all; they want to feel part of the summer love fit bullshit lie. I can however look down upon the fit guys who engage in this. It’s not that big girls aren’t attractive, who doesn’t love a nice Jill Scott every once in a while?  It’s that if the fit guys take them down, what’s left for their fat brothers? Fit guys need to stick to fit chicks they can take on dates to the Veggie Grill, while fat dudes dominate  girls who bring their own ranch dressing to Golden Corral.

Dancing

No one likes to see a fat man dance. It’s a sad but true fact. Now there are certain bigguns that have rejected this idea and danced with great glee and flair. These guys include Fred “ReRun” Berry, and Jazz from the now-forgotten-as- if-they-never-even-existed 90’s R&B quartet Dru Hill. While these guys both brought chunky prancing to the masses, their success is somewhat influenced by the platforms they had. ReRun had the semi-popular 70’s television show “What’s Happening” on which to demonstrate his dexterity, while Jazz danced on stage next to his semi-heterosexual band mates. The average fat guy has neither of these things. All he has are night club dance floors crowded by fit people in which to bump into and make a scene.  Doesn’t matter how well you dance either, when you take yo big ass out on the dance floor they see this. It’s best to stay away from it. At most you can two-step, maybe even briskly two step if like “Rock With You” comes on. Actually, if “Rock With You” comes on, dance. Fuck these skinny muthafuckas. Be free. Michael died so that you could do a turn and knock a bitch over the bar. Sometimes you just gotta tell the world to kiss your cellulite puckered ass, and “Rock With You” is one of those moments.

Briefs

Firstly, let me say that if you are over 10 years old and still wearing briefs, you’re failing. I don’t get you. Seriously nigga, grow the fuck up. This is America, we have freedom here. Our balls should have freedom too, freedom to not be snatched up next to our thighs all day long. While I firmly believe that no grown man should wear briefs, you definitely can’t wear them if you’re fat. Briefs fall into the Wet Suit/Under Armour category in that the only types of dudes who should be wearing them are the types of dudes that are on the package. If you’re fat, a general rule is to stay away from clothing that lets everyone in the world know just how out of whack your body is. This is why big guys now have it tougher than ever. It’s all about skinny jeans and tight fitting shirts now. Being fat in the late 90’s and early 2000’s actually wasn’t that bad. The FUBU sweater was like armor. Chicks knew your rolls existed, but since they could see nothing, they mostly went along with the charade. Ditto for the football jersey. I had a XXXL Raiders jersey that when worn with my black scully made me look like an obese obsidian pimp. All black everything.

There you go my fellow fat big fellas, eat that knowledge up like you eat up every damned thing else. Remember, this are just guidelines, you could still tell the fit world to fuck off, which I completely endorse as well. I just want you to know what they’re saying about us. At the end of the day though, you gotta love yourself for anyone else to, so get busy on doing that.

Before I even get started let me speak on some things that have gone down recently. As most of you know, the white man is fucking over me right now. I’m currently suspended from ESPN because I got a little loose on that Mad Dog 20/20 one night and then drove home. At first I was wielding the whip just fine, but then the jankyness commenced as I wrecked my whip and my blood tested drunk for the Po-Po’s.

Even though ESPN waited until AFTER I blew down Grant Hill to suspend me, I get the fact that I’m a role model and can’t make such mistakes. Therefore I accept the suspension and will use the time away from basketball to reflect on my wrongdoing.

All this reflection and looking at the news and reading words and shit has been good for me. One thing it’s making me see is that Grant Hill ain’t the only one getting his Tom on for Massa and Missy. As a matter of fact, compared to some of these jokers round here, Grant is Malcolm muthafuckin X.  All these Toms man, I don’t get it. Does RNS (real nigga shit) even exist anymore? And if so, where does it live? I wanna go there.

Anyway, in these last couple weeks of being off-air, I’ve identified the five Black People that’s leading the Tom revolution. The Top five Toms of this year so far, the five that need to be stopped for a Real Nigga Revolution to take place.

Jason Whitlock

If you don’t watch a whole lot of sports, you might not know this muthafucka is. Well, I’ll tell you who he is; he’s the king Tom of all sportswriters. Whitlock actually started off regular, as a random fat nigga on ESPN talking about sports while sweating fish grease all over the set. His indoctrination into TomHood didn’t actually come until Don Imus called some college chicks nappy headed hoes, and Whitlock said it was the blacks of Americas fault that Imus said it. That opinion got him a lot of burn on television as the nigga who blames niggas for everything, and he hasn’t had another pro-black thought since.

Whitlock has now moved over to Foxsports.com where he’s taken his Tom game to new heights. He famously called Serena Williams fat and lazy, and took the time to tell me how he felt about my image and thoughts, saying Tom shit like…

The sports world is pushing back hard against hip-hop, baby-mama athletes. You can call it racism. I call it a rejection of values that don’t contribute to consistent winning…

The thing I don’t get is how this super fat ass nigga is trying to tell anyone about their image. Nigga is fat. White people don’t see winning or intelligence when they see him; they see a walkin church’s chicken disposal unit. Maybe if the dude tried to actually talk to me and spent less time using his mouth as an extra strength cornbread processor, he’d know how I felt about shit. Fuck outta here. Only time this chubby bitch feels like a black man is when the doctor takes his blood pressure. Fat Nigga’s BP is  ∞/∞.

Nick Cannon

Of all the people on this list, this dude might need to be stopped the most. He’s what you call a secondary Tom, meaning that there’s something else besides his worldview that makes him a Tom. In this case Nick is so fucking corny that he has no choice but to fall into the Tom category. A PAN (pussy ass nigga) of this degree can make it hard for all Black people to live life. This is because White people see this dude shuckin and jiving on TV with his Chicken George smile and dumb ass mustache, then believe its okay to get out of line with us. If you’re at the bank and your White teller rolls her eyes at you, it’s Nick Cannon’s fault. If you’re playing ball at the gym and a 5’2 White dude fouls the shit out of you then stares you down like you’s a straight broad, it’s Nick Cannon’s fault. His bitch ass antics are like a time machine that takes all Whites back to 1845, a time when fucking over niggas wasn’t just accepted but encouraged. One time I was walking down the street when this White dude randomly asked me to make him a Mint Julep and saddle up his horse. As I was about to stomp his fucking soul out I remembered that Underclassman was playing on TBS. I let it slide. Nick Cannon ain’t bout to get me in no more fucking trouble.

Bill Cosby

Not even wasting a whole write up on him.

Kiss my ass Dr. Huxtable.

Oprah Winfrey

I ain’t gon lie, this one hurts. Oprah is a hero and deity to most of us Black people, so calling her an Uncle Tom is tough. Now, I’m not calling Oprah an Tom because she don’t like rappers. Hell, my mama don’t like rappers. I’m not calling her an Uncle Tom because White people like her so much. They like that big eared nigga Will Smith too and keeps it 100 more or less (nigga is just a tad too jolly for my tastes though).

Oprah is an Uncle Tom because word came down that she won’t endorse Obama in 2012 because it could hurt her ratings and shit. C’mon Oprah. You gotta be better than that. You selling out the only black president we’ve ever had so the soccer moms will still love you? They will always love you. You stay giving them hoes cars and iPads for no reason. You don’t give us hood fools shit but inspiration. I mean, we appreciate it and all, but can a nigga at get like an iPod mini or something? A Game Boy Advanced?

I have faith in Oprah though. She’ll see the error in her Tom ass decision and get things turned around. After all, she made Women of Brewster Place, and that was Real Nigga Shit to the maximum. Movie was a hood-based tragedy fest. Remember when the lil baby got electrocuted from sticking a fork in the socket? Why wasn’t someone watching him!? Shit still be pissin me off. Then I remember that we ain’t really got no Day Care in the hood. Day Care in the hood is ya Grandmama house, and since she’s a maximum 17 years older then ya moms, she still be havin to work sometimes. Oprah know that shit, cause she a homegirl. She also know that she gotta get on team Obama and off this Tom madness. I got faith in you Oprah.

Clarence Thomas

He is the Tupac of Toms, the Icon of the whole bunch.  Clarence TOM(ass).  Now we all know that Clarence has been in the Tom game for a long time now. As a member of the Supreme Court, TOM(ass) has worked tirelessly to make the lives of white people easier. Rumor has it that the rest of the Justices send him to the store for them. I heard they make this nigga wear the robe inside 7-11. The Honorable Sun Chip Buying Tom Ass nigga Clarence. Recently though, a decision this four eyed bitch made put even him in a new class.

John Thompson, a Death Row inmate from Louisiana who was released in 1999 after 14 years because it was found that PROSECUTORS WITHHELD EVIDENCE THAT COULD FREE HIM, sued the cracker ass DA’s office and was initially awarded 20 mil. The office appealed the decision and the shit reached all the way to the Supreme Court.  Now, if you have one Real Nigga bone in your body, this is a slam dunk. This man sat in jail for 14 years and came weeks away from execution, like death, like Ricky from Boyz In Da Hood shit. Then you find out they knew all along he was innocent? If you ask me 20 Mil aint enough. It should be 100 mil at minimum and daily blowjobs from the finest secretary in the D.A.’s office.

In the Supreme Court, his final chance to ball, John Thompson’s money got beat down like Apollo Creed in Rocky IV. The vote was 5-4 with the deciding vote being cast by you know who. Clarence thought that the 20 Mil award would bankrupt the D.A.’s office and he couldn’t have that. See what I mean? No real Nigga would pass up the opportunity to bankrupt the D.A., and put another black man in the millionaire club.  Not to mention the D.A. didn’t make a mistake, THEY DID THE SHIT ON PURPOSE.  Shit almost makes me wanna apologize to Grant, because if this is a Tom, he ain’t even on the Tom radar.

That’s it for now, but I see you Toms. I’m watching. Imma be all on a Tom’s ass for the foreseeable future.

Jalen Rose,

Leader of the Real Nigga Revolution

Couple things before I get started here. Don’t call me “The Devil.” It’s rude. For someone like me, who has been named by almost every different ethnic group on the planet, being called something as trite as “The Devil” is incredibly belittling. Lucifer, Satan, Beelzebub and Stanley all work for me, so pick one. Stop being childish.

I’m here because there’s been a lot of talk lately about people selling their souls to me and what not. While I won’t deny that soul selling is a common practice, for humans to speculate on who has or has not sold a soul is as pathetic as your meaningless existence. Your feeble minds barely have the capacity to understand what your souls even are, so to babble on and about who still has one annoys me to no end.

Still though, I feel like its incumbent upon me to clear up some things. I work hard for the souls I get and every one becomes sacred to me in the war against the light. Because of this, I have decided to identify some of the higher profile souls I’ve managed to procure over the years.  Since you humans seem to care only about the members of your species that attain notoriety, so I’ll be focusing on some names you might know.

Before we get started, the following people HAVE NOT sold their souls to me despite notions to the contrary.

Jay-Z: Never met the man or heard from him, my guess is because you have to have a soul to sell one.

Kanye West: Called on me several times in his early days, but I refused him each time for fear that his incessant bitching and weirdness would ruin my eternity. Also, I don’t need someone trying to redecorate hell. Let Jesus and his dad deal with that nonsense.

Bill Gates/Mark Zuckerberg: Didn’t need my help. They’re just smarter than you. Deal with it.

Now to the ones who I was “blessed” (LOL) enough to steal…

5. Lindsay Lohan

The Meeting:

Lindsay came to me at a very young age. It normally takes a little more mortal struggle for humans to make the genius decision that a lifetime of celebrity is worth an eternity of being burned alive. Lindsay however, called upon me at the age of six. Although that is below the required age of 12 needed to sell a soul, her mother was willing and eager to give spiritual consent for Lindsay to become my minion. Her younger sister has had no contact with me, and that’s why you can’t recall her name right now.

The Desire:

She was an awkward, freckled faced and firecrotched loser who wanted to be beautiful, talented, and always on everybody’s mind. I obliged her by using my dark physical powers to remove her distracting freckles and to grow a pair of soft and delectable breasts that would make young human boys manipulate themselves to her image. I also spiritually altered her brain, making her an actress of considerable range and timing. I greatly enjoyed “Mean Girls.”

The Lucifer Letdown:

Lindsay only asked to be beautiful and famous. She asked for no dignity, tact, self respect or control. Therefore I was able to saddle her with a couple of nasty demons including addiction and lust, making her the most likely actress in Hollywood to perform fellatio to a taxi driver giving her a ride to a crackhouse.  Recently, I’ve also been able to influence her to steal necklaces, which I think will be just the first step in her total collapse. She’ll be a vagrant by 2015. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAHAAH…..

4. Chris Brown

The Meeting:

Chris called out to me early in his career as a gangly and even tempered youth who wanted to sing and dance. He reminded me of a soul I greatly coveted but could never land, Michael Jackson. I used almost every trick in the book to land Michael, only to find out that he was actually Jesus’ 2^nd cousin and above any type of sin or corruption. Chris was my second chance to have the biggest Pop star in the world, and when he came to me I got him.

The Desire:

When Chris was just starting out his career, his singing was already at a level that even the most evil being in existence could enjoy. However his dancing was behind that of homoerotic pop stars Usher and Omarion.  Chris knew his dreams of being Michael Jackson were impossible to accomplish unless he could move his feet in ways to inspire humans, so he offered me his immortal soul in exchange for mastery of the dance. I used underworld magic to give him this mastery. He now has the ability to do a wide range of dances in ways that make people try them when no one is looking.

The Lucifer Letdown:

Chris asked to be the world’s best dancer in order to be more like Michael Jackson, but he said nothing of the compassion and childlike aura that made Michael so special. Because of this, I was able to give him the dancing, but make him anti-Michael in every other way.  The Rihanna incident was just the tip of the iceberg with this raging maniac. Under my control he’s actually written several songs about his desire to kill animals and small children that he is just waiting to release. When he snaps for good, it will be an incredible sight. He’ll go on a stabbing spree while backflippling, jerking and doing an intensely violent dougie. MUUUUUUUHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAH!!!!!!!!!!!

3. R. Kelly

The Meeting:

When he first called upon me Robert was singing for quarters outside Chicago L Trains like a piece of human slime. He would constantly get arrested for his illicit crooning, as his Negro skin offended and taunted white commuters. Having grown up in the church, Robert was initially very unsure of his decision. It was only after I sent a she-demon to visit his filthy bed that he finally succumbed to the passion and sold me his soul.

The Desire:

Robert was smarter and more precise then both Lindsay and Chris. He didn’t want any enhancements in his physical gifts, which are things that would deteriorate with time anyway. No, Robert wanted to be a master of inspiration.  He wanted to be able to write songs that would in one moment inspire humans to fornicate in carnal lustcapades, and then in the next instance make them want to cry out with life affirming glee. I gave him this gift. I gave him the lustful core needed to write “Bump and Grind” and the intrinsic perspective needed for tunes like “I Believe I Can Fly.” He won’t be flying though, he’ll be playing the 5’clock show in the Lake of Fire for eons to come, HAHAHAHAHMUAHAHAHAHAHAHAA. Enough.

The Lucifer Letdown:

In addition to the talents I gave Robert, I also imbued him with a destructive desire for vagina that hath not the ability to grow hair. He craves the type of human female that still watches Dora the Explorer and Hannah Montana. He recently revealed to me that he has a strong desire to tour with Justin Bieber so that he can catch some “Young Ho Overflow” as he called it. He is the pied piper, and he uses my dark gifts to lead the children away. As much as I thought that this desire would be his undoing, it hasn’t. It seems that I may have overcompensated in the gifts I gave him because his songs seem to make humans forget that he has sex with pre-teen, training bra consumers. Sigh, I’ll never understand why you talking monkeys are so precious to God…

2. Sarah Palin

The Meeting:

Sarah was a nearly illiterate Alaskan Beauty Queen when she came to me asking for a career in Politics. She intrigued me for two reasons initially. One was that I normally fornicate with all my female minions, yet I had no desire to touch her in any way. I still don’t. Two, she was strangely ambitious for someone who had trouble tying her shoes.

The Desire:

Very simply, Sarah wanted to be President of the United States. She said that she didn’t care how I made this happen for her; she just wanted it to happen. Since I couldn’t turn back time to give her the type of pedigree she’d need to be the President, I decided to go the other way. I made her extraordinarily ordinary, which some stupid humans see as a virtue to be a leader. I actually had to decline her request to be President though, that won’t happen. When I want there to be Hell on Earth I’ll create it, it won’t be because I put a numskull in the White House. I’m evil, not stupid. Sarah will have to settle for her Fox News celebrity and former Governorship.

The Lucifer Letdown:

There is not really one here. She was dense when I met her, and she’s dense now, I did nothing to change that.  Really, the Lucifer Letdown here is you. All of you who worship this cretin remind me why I despise your species so. I literally watched her struggle to operate a DVD player once, yet scores of you hang on her every word.  I outdid myself on this one. HOHEHEHHAHAHAHAHAHMUAHAHAHA. Don.

Lebron James:

The Meeting:

I had been trying to get Kobe Bryant’s soul for some time when Lebron contacted me and told me that he would be willing to give up not only his soul, but the souls of everyone in Cleveland/Akron for basketball glory. He sold his soul to me, and in turn those fans sold their souls to him. Cleveland now knows it got a raw deal, but Lebron won’t find that out until he’s catching alley-oops in million degree weather a billion years from now. HOHAHAHHEEEHAAHAHAHAHHAHHHAHAMUHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHA. Stop.

The Desire:

Lebron said he wanted to be a force of basketball nature, the most dominating physical specimen ever to play a sport that human talking monkeys take way too seriously. I obliged him. I made him fast, strong, explosive in ways that most other athletes could only dream of.  I also gave him a flat, pug nose that makes him look like a dog of basketball or a hound of the hardwood. I feel his doggish features aid him on the basketball court in a myriad of ways.

The Lucifer Letdown:

I screwed him on the intangibles. I gave him very little competitiveness or passion, and on top of it I made him afraid of big moments. Lebron’s talent is sort of like a 12 year old girl with DD breasts in that it’s amazing to look at, but you can’t really do anything with it. Despite this, Lebron might be my most valuable soul right now. He’s everywhere, acting ridiculous and inspiring impressionable young humans to do the same. Wait until you see what he and I have in store for the future as well. MUHA. MUHAHAHAH. HEHAHOHEEHEHEHEHEHEHHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH. Laughter ends.

That’s it for now. There are of course many more, but these are the ones making my job easy right now. And for all of you perspective business partners, remember If you need me just call. HAHAHAHA HOAOAOAHAHAHHHEHEHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHHNHAHAHAHUHAHAHAHAHAA. No more humor.

Reports say that Brown, incensed by the interview, violently confronted a GMA producer, and then with the essence of Beast Mode still flowing through his veins, broke the window in his dressing room. While it’s unclear whether or not CB faces any legal reprocussions for this incident, one thing is for sure, fucking up the dressing room at GMA is pretty high on the list of worse possible things this little dude could do right now.

For most of you the story ends there. But we here at Sicklemaster.com have more. Our crack staff has found out who Chris Brown contacted immediately following the incident at GMA, and it was none other than the Humpin’ Around Bobby Brown. While the two Browns are of no relation, they’ve formed a bond in recent years based on their similarities, which include fresh dance moves, churning out Pop/R&B hits, and smacking unruly bitches.

Here at Sicklemaster.com we got our hands on exclusive transcripts that detail the phone call that took place between these two hot headed hit makers right after Brown left GMA…

Phone ringing…..

: Who dis.

: Hello, Bobby? Yo man, this is Chris, what’s all that noise in the background

: Those are called hoes. Who you say this was again?

: It’s Chris man, I need to talk to you for a minute, you got a second?

: What up Chris! Is it a minute or a second? Cause it’s all the way live in this bitch right now.

: It’s either a hot second or a cool minute, but I gotta talk to you, I’m in trouble again.

*Bobby moves to another room*

: Yo. Now what you talking about, what happened?

: I messed up bro. I was at Good Morning America, was giving this interview before I was supposed to perform. This stupid lady kept asking me about the Rihanna shit and I was getting pissed

: So you golfed the bitch in her mouth.

: No I-

: You spit on the bitch.

: NO. I performed and everything was fine, but when I got off the stage, I dunno, Robbie Rage got to me again and I just lost it.

: Who the fuck is Robbie Rage?

It’s the bad man that lives inside of me. My mom told me sometimes when we get mad our RageMan comes out and takes over. Mine is named Robbie.

: Say bruh, I don’t know what kind of games you and ya moms is playin, but if we’re gonna be cool, I can’t let you fill my ears with corny shit like that… So if you didn’t smack the chick, then what did you do?

: I flipped out on the Segment producer, then tossed a chair through the dressing room window.

: HAHAHAHAHAA. Lil Chris done showed America his ass again! I love it!

Glad you’re laughing, personally I don’t really know what the fuck is so funny. I’m ruining my career. This shit could not have happened at a worse time. People were just starting to get over the Rihanna thing and now I screw up again? What would you do if you were me? What should I do now?

: Well I would never have done that to Rihanna in the first place.

: Wait, what? How can YOU say that?

: Because I would never beat up a bitch that can’t sing. I only harm hoes with gorgeous voices. See that way when you fucking them up their screams be all melodic and shit. One time I decked Whitney in her stomach and when she screamed it sounded just like “The Greatest Love of All.” That made me happy.

: That makes sense, but Rihanna can sing though. She just got her own sound.

: Grow up Chris. Bitch makes Ralph Tresvant look like Luther Vandross (Bobby pours out some liquor)

: So what do I do? Should I release a statement? Should I apologize?

: Listen, at some point you gon have to decide who you want to be-

: I know who I want to be. I want to be the next Michael Jackson.

: Well that’s out nigga. You can kiss that shit goodbye.

: You don’t know that.

: Hell if I don’t. You like to slap bitches and break shit. You all tatted up and what have you. Michael on the other hand, used to piss watercolors and talk to flowers.

: I could be more gentler and kinder, that’s what I’m trying to say, that’s what I need to be.

: You’re not getting it. One time back in the day I dissed Michael. I said I danced better than him and that it was my time to be the number one pop nigga. He heard about it and confronted me at a party. He walked up to me and just when I thought it was gonna be some static he looked at me real deep like he was finding my soul, and then he hugged me until I began to openly weep in front of all the hoes that were available that night.

: He hugged you?

: Yeah, and I ain’t wanna let go. I really still haven’t let go. (Bobby pours out more liquor).

: Wow, that’s deep.

: Right. You sing and dance real nice but you ain’t got that.

: I don’t know what to do Bobby, I’m so confused. I don’t know why people think I’m such a monster. It’s been happening to me since I was a kid.

: Damn, that long?

: Yeah, I can remember one time I was playing with my cousin Ryan’s Power Ranger set, you know like making them move around and fight intense battles and shit. Well he came into the room and wanted to play with me, but I wasn’t finished  with my solo battle yet. He thought that just because they were his that he could play with them anytime he wanted to.

: Look Chris, I actually gotta-

: I acted like it was all cool, all kosher, then I went and got his sister’s easy bake oven. I turned it on and stuck that selfish nigga’s head inside until I could feel his brain burning up like so many small cakes had before. The look on his face was priceless. Every second passing was a realization that he fucked with the wrong little cousin. I began to dance while shanking him with assorted crayons. I took off his shoes. I whooped his feet. He could feel me and I know it. Bobby, you there?

……

: Bobby? Hello?

*Dial Tone*

: I’m So misunderstood.

What if a Caucasian psychopath dealing with  a raging case of Post Stress Disorder materialized himself into an unassuming Black Man’s  life? What if Gotham’s Cape Crusader relocated to Los Angeles, bringing his slightly obsessive and disturbing fight for justice into a world that didn’t ask for it, and thinks it’s weird as fuck?

That’s what happens in “Hollywood Bats”  a Web-Series that chronicles the relationship of Batman and his new friend Van as they adjust to living together in Hollywood.

I wrote, directed and star in this, and here’s the pilot episode with more to follow, as we’re back in production. I personally guarantee you’ll laugh.

When the opportunity presented itself to tell the story of my brothers and teammates known as “The Fab Five,” the intention was to remember and pay homage to a transformative time in not only my life, but in basket culture. Delving back into those years was a joyous and painful experience for all those who participated in the piece because a lot of the memories are now bittersweet.

Despite the bevy of subjects broached in “The Fab Five” including racism by University of Michigan alums and our fight with the NCAA, it seems that statements made about my perception of the Duke Basketball program have been the most scrutinized and talked about part of the film. These statements were made to reflect how a 17 year old version of myself thought about Duke and they culminated with my assertion that Black players who attended Duke were Uncle Toms.

Following the Documentary, the most heralded Black Duke player of all time -and a personal friend of mine- Grant Hill, wrote a scathing Op-Ed piece to the New York Times where he defended the legacy of Duke as an institution and gave a sociological dissertation on the ills of the Black America. While Grant was well within his rights to defend his institution and upbringing, he also took the time to refer to my speech as “garbled,” and my opinions as “pathetic.” To those comments I only have to say one thing to Grant…

Fuck you Nigga.

See, I knew yo bitch ass couldn’t resist the opportunity to make sure Massa’s dishes were clean. You just had to write some ho ass essay defending Duke didn’t you? I bet you didn’t even write the shit. Most likely Coach K wrote it and you just edited out all the niggers and coons he called us. So I called you an Uncle Tom when I was 17, so what? Damn my nigga, stop being so sensitive about shit. You looking more and more like the bitch I thought you were with every word you say.

You know what? I stand behind the Uncle Tom shit now, fuck it. When I think of black dudes that went to Duke, names like Elton, Shane, Grant, Thomas (not Tommy), William, (not Billy) and Nolan, pop up in my head. All those names mean your parents wanted you to be Toms since birth. It’s like naming your son Jeeves or Anderson. Why in the fuck would you give him either name unless you want him to wash draws and serve dinners for a living? No matter what you do, name your son Jeeves and he will be a Butler. Name a black dude Shane or Grant, and he WILL listen to Maroon 5. He WILL eat bagels with cream cheese. He WILL watch “Friends”. All those names are little Uncle Tom starter kits. Now take our names, the names of the Fab Five. You got Jalen, Jimmy, Ray, Juwan and Chris, aka real nigga shit.  That don’t even sound like no basketball team. It sounds like a bunch of fools banging Hoover Crip if you ask me.

As for your parents, I’ll lemme take this opportunity to say fuck them too. Yeah, they did a good job getting they paper and shit, but I can’t respect the swagless way in which they raised you. Speaking of that, check out this picture of you and your father I found…

What in Cosby Sweaters is going on out this bitch? Shit is ridiculous. And as hard is your pops is supposed to be bankin, he ain’t got the scratch to have his mustache shaped up? On the real my nigga, that don’t even look like a mustache, it looks like failure ate his upper lip. Shit, if having a father means that you have to look this corny, I’ll opt for mom dukes doing the heavy lifting.  Y’all took the Cliff and Theo shit too far here. I can’t approve.

People been telling me that you ain’t no Uncle Tom, one reason being because you have an African American Art Collection. When they tell me that, I tell them they stupid like these hoes. Fuck yo art, as a matter of fact you don’t even have it anymore, all your art belongs to me now. I had my niggas Bop and Lil Tony jack that shit last night. I’m selling it and using the money for the charter school I’m building in the hood. The hood, nigga. The place where you can get 15 chicken wings for 2.99. The place where the stove is a heater. The place you don’t know shit about.

I look forward to your response to this letter, because if you get flip with me this time I’m clean fucking you up. Real shit, let’s see if the suburbs showed you how to use them hands. And I ain’t giving yo fragile ass an injury time-out either. I know why yo ankles bad anyway, too much grabbing them for the white man. I’m out ho. Watch who the fuck you talking to in the future, I’m from Detroit bitch, I’ll smack the black back into yo vanilla ass.

Sincerely,

Jalen Rose.

And as for Tamia, I fucked.

After a dreadful stretch that saw them losing five in a row the Miami Heat seem to have their swagger back. The South Beach Boys were able to get off of the schnide by outlasting the Lakers, then punishing the Grizzlies.

Still though, you’d be hard pressed to find anyone who thinks things are going as planned in Miami. The Heat, a team that once proclaimed they would win the next 7 NBA titles in a row have struggled to find the rhythm and chemistry that most championship teams possess.

With the combination of Lebron James, Dwayne Wade, and Chris Bosh, Miami was expected to take the league by storm using their alley-ooping orgy of talent to dominate anyone who dare contest them on a basketball court. That hasn’t quite happened, so we here at Sicklemaster.com thought we’d catch up with the “Big Three” to hear them speak their minds on the issues down on South Beach.

Sicklemaster: Thanks for doing this guys, I know it’s the stretch run of the season and you have a lot on your plates, so taking this time to talk to us is a big deal. I’m just letting you know you can say whatever you want, this is a totally free forum for you. Thanks again.

: No problem. It’s important to all of us to let people know that we aren’t panicking.

: Yeah we’ve been playing basketball all our lives, so these ups and downs, we’re use to them

: ….

Sicklemaster: Great. So I’ll get right into the first question then, it’s something I think everybody wants to know. Are you guys surprised by the season you’ve had? Meaning, did you expect this entire thing to be easier being that you all combined forces?

: Having won a championship, I knew that it wouldn’t be easy, the league is a grind and you have to be up to the challenge night in and night out, especially if you want to be an elite team. It’s never easy.

: Ummm, I don’t know what the hell Dwayne is talking about. I expected this shit to be way easier than this. I just spent the last 7 years making cats like Mo Williams look good, I thought hooping with these guys would be a piece of cake.

Sicklemaster: I see. Chris, do you have anything you’d like to add?

: You mean I can talk too?

Sicklemaster: I mean, yeah. The interview is with all three of you right?

: Chris, how many times have I told you that you don’t have to wait for me or Dwayne to give you permission to talk? Damn, be a man my nigga.

: Stop being a ho Chris. Speak up.

: Okay! I’m just happy to be here with Mr. Wade and Mr. James, sharing the basketball and making memories with them. It’s been the experience of a lifetime to be on team with this much talent, and to take post-game showers with such cut guys while our bodies are drained of energy and yearning for comfort.

: See what I’m talking about.

: Whatever man, I’m tired of you blaming me for shit.

: Whatever my ass, you brought this dude down here with you. I never signed up for any of this.

Sicklemaster: OOOOOOkaaay, right to the next question. Dwayne, what do you feel like is the biggest reason that the Heat have struggled late in games? Is it an execution thing, or is it something deeper?

: I like it when it gets deeper. I like it as deep as possible.

: Chris, calm down. You know I love how people ask me that question as if I wasn’t Finals MVP. It’s like I never stole the ball then dribbled the length of the court to hit a game winning three. I don’t know why. Why don’t you ask someone with more expertise in late game failure, cause I am really just beginning to learn about that shit.

Sicklemaster: Lebron? Do you have any insight into the late game problems?

: It’s just about trust. The team has to trust that one day that I’ll get it right. It’s about having faith in something that you’ve never seen and have no real reason to believe will happen. Like, you know how you believe in Jesus even though you never met Jesus?

Sicklemaster: Yeah, you have a divine faith in him, but that’s not the same as-

: Yes it is. It’s exactly the same. I am the Jesus of pro basketball. You don’t have to see me do something to know I can do it. I am to be worshiped on that court out there whether I hit the shot or not. That’s how holy my game is. I give the people miracles in the form of chase down blocks and no-look passes. Miracles that make them believe. I’m coming back one day. Coming back to slay all those don’t believe in me. You better be ready for this hardwood rapture.

Sicklemaster: I see. Does anyone have any ideas of what could be done, from a basketball perspective, so that you guys could play at a higher level consistently?

: I actually do. I always play better during Breast Cancer Awareness celebrations. I think it’s the pink shoes and accents that let me just shine on the court. I feel so fierce in all that pink that I wanna dance and express my love of life and basketball. So, my answer to what ills us is to go pink for a little while. I contacted Victoria’s Secret, and they offered to make us some Fab new Fuchsia unis. We could get them cut a little tighter, and they could caress our balls in ways that make us feel so very sexy.

….

: Yo, Chris. You can shut the fuck up my again my dude, just chill for right now.

Sicklemaster: You know I’m picking up that you guys might not be getting along like we all thought you would. Are things okay down there?

: It’s Straight.

: Yeah, it’s aight.

: Lebron’s abs are sensational.

Sicklemaster: So now to Dwayne again-

: Why is he getting all the questions? There shall be no god before me.

Sicklemaster: I’ll come to you in one second Nazarene, I just want to know what Dwayne felt like when you called him up and told him you were coming to Miami.

: I didn’t think he was serious. He was like, Man it would be wild if all three of us ended up in Miami wouldn’t it? It’s like when a chick you’re giving the wood to says “Wouldn’t it be crazy if I had a baby?” And you’re thinking hell yeah that shit would be crazy so you laugh, only your laughter makes her think you’re down with it so she stops taking her birth control. The next thing you know you got a little walking, talking life ruiner popping up in your city and shitting all over your future.

Sicklemaster: Lebron What was th-

: It’s about time…

Sicklemaster: Yeah, sorry. This one’s for you. What was the main reason you wanted to leave Cleveland where you were the unquestioned Alpha Dog to come to Miami where you’re no doubt sharing the spotlight with Wade?

: Let’s face it bro, Cleveland sucks. I grew up sorta near there, but it’s not a place I’d every really want to be long term. I gave it 7 years and it felt like 70.  Go into the clubs in Cleveland after a game and tell me if you see one piece of clothing from this decade. It’s like Hot Tub Time Machine in that bitch. Niggas is still rocking Cross Colours and pimping Members Only jackets. It’s very hard to be worth 200 million dollars and party with people who have Girbaud Jeans on layaway. Z Cavarrici’s. Can’t do it. Had to upgrade.

Sicklemaster: Yes, that sounds horrific, but what about the fans there? You don’t think they deserved better than a swift exit where you basically told them to jam it?

: I’ll take that one for Lebron. Everyone wants to talk about the fans. Well do the fans keep you warm at night after you’ve gone 1-18 against Chicago? No. Your boys do. Your boys are the ones who you spoon with and who tell you that it’s not your fault. You wedge your penis in between their buttcheeks and suddenly everything makes sense. That’s why Lebron left. So he could be around some guys who really know how to make him feel like a man. Right Lebron?

: I’d like to state for the record that I’m fucking Gabrielle Union.

: Chris for real. Please. You letting the whole city down.

Sicklemaster: Okay, last question. You guys started off the season saying that you could win all these championships and be this new sort of dynasty. Do you still feel that way, or has the fact that you’re a good and not great team changed your mind about those expectations.

: Last Question? I guess I’ll mysteriously defer to Lebron for that, even though the answer is almost guaranteed to be a failure.

Sicklemaster: Lebron?

: I still think we can win the next ten rings in a row. Actually I know we can because I am a winner. All I do is win win win no matter what. Call me Lebron Khaled, but not at the airport because I don’t wanna get randomly searched.

Sicklemaster: Wow, Lebron, That was…

: A miss right? Welcome to my life.

Sicklemaster: Thanks for your time guys.

Go grab a mirror. Seriously. You won’t understand what I’m talking about if you don’t have a mirror or something that you can see your reflection in handy right now.

Got it? Nice.

Now look at yourself. No one can see you but you. It’s just you and what you see in that mirror. If you’re a regular normal person, you might see a lot of different things.  You could like what you see, and that’s great. Most people though, see someone who doesn’t make enough money, needs to lose a little weight or is struggling to live up to what they want to be.

While that seems sad, it’s actually okay. When you’re a normal regular person you have normal regular insecurities and normal regular hang-ups. One could actually argue that it’s these feelings of inadequacy that make you normal. That is to say that we all feel like that from time to time.

Except for those that are BASED…

If you’re BASED, I know what you see in that mirror. You see a PRETTY BITCH. You see a someone Swagging on One Hundred fucking million, teetering on the edge of One hundred fucking trillion. You Swagged out BASED Pretty Bitch, you look like the Pope don’t you? I know you do. See, if you’re BASED then you know what you want to be and who you are. If you’re BASED, you wake up, Swag out, then go fuck the world with your awesomeness.

Of course we know where BASED comes from. It comes from the BASEDGOD himself, Lil B. Lil B, in his life and music gives a blueprint to the BASED lifestyle that is a clear cut example of the full power of the Based movement. We see through Lil B what it means to be BASED, and how being BASED makes life way easier. It’s through Lil B that we get the music to Cook to, and the Swag to look like Paris Hilton.

Thank You BASEDGOD.

There are some people that think being BASED means not giving a fuck about anything. This is erroneous. For example if your Grandmother was sick would you wouldn’t Swag it out while she was in the hospital, you’d go see about her. If you had an ear infection you wouldn’t say “Fuck My Ear, I’m BASED” you’d take your medicine. Being BASED means doesn’t mean you don’t care about anything, it just means you don’t care about shit that doesn’t matter, like other people’s opinions on your Swag.

When you’re truly BASED, you live in a world that people can’t fucking touch. It’s when none of the silly rules of the UnBASED world apply to you.  Wear what you want, fuck it, you’re BASED. Be who you are, fuck it, you’re BASED.  Being BASED is essentially being the Tyler Durden version of yourself. It’s when you look how you want to look, fuck how you want to fuck and do what you want to do.  That statement has so much Swag. BRRRRRAAAAAANG THANG.

In closing, I’d just like to say that I realize a lot of you aren’t going to get this. It’s tough to unplug from the machine, no matter how soul destroying its mechanisms are. Most of you need the approval of others, and the comfort of knowing you’re protected by a system of completely bullshit and arbitrary rules. If it works for you, great. I mean that. I hope it continues to work. For the legion of the BASED, we have to do it another way. We have to do it the way of the BASEDGOD, the way that makes everyday a celebration of pure unadulterated SWAG. For those who don’t get it, it’s cool. For those who hate it…

Suck My Dick Hoe.

SWAG.

The Sicklemaster.

The Grammys were last night and they were terrible. There were however, observations to be made, with the Sicklemaster point of view.

5. Christina Aguilera Was Created by God as An Eff you to Black People

She sings like a 250 pound black lady, while she looks like a porcelain doll. At last night’s Grammys I felt Jennifer Hudson and Yolanda Adams staring through her with a vicious jealousy. Their minds were wondering how she could have possibly been born with both that voice and a skin tone that allows her get a cab whenever she wants one.

I guarantee you God was laughing when he constructed Aguilera’s vocal chords. It was his way of showing us Blacks that he can do whatever he wants. He can take a little white chick and make her sing like Mahalia Jackson if he sees fit. To add insult to injury, Aguilera refuses to have sex with any Black American males. If she did that, at least we would know where she was getting her soul injections from, and it’d be easier to understand why she her she’s blowing our legends down.

We’re confused, He laughs.

4. Lady Gaga Will One Day Snap and Kill Multiple Human Beings

The bitch is weird. She had horns on her shoulders and face last night. I understand today’s fashion is about trying to look as much like a fucking alien as possible, but I don’t think she’s playing dress up. In my opinion Gaga is the type to actually end someone’s life and then say the shit was artistic expression. What was with the Whitney Houston thing at the end of her speech? Was she reaching out to Houston? Mark my words; if Gaga and Houston ever end up in the same room, Bobby Brown is a dead man. He’ll be killed by crazed Gaga fans who are a weird cult of bullying victims ready to get it popping on some violent shit. She’s like a white, female, gay, Tupac. She’s got a skinny jeans wearing army ready for war.

She serves it up, he's "in the moment". Sigh

3. The Rihanna/Drake Sex Tape Would be Boring as Hell

To me, it’s obvious why the fling didn’t last. There is no heat between these two, and I blame Drake. I like his music, but he’s a peanut butter and jelly sandwich-glass of milk corny nigga. I know this because I am a peanut butter and jelly sandwich-glass of milk corny nigga, and we know our own kind. I watched him on the stage with Rihanna, and I imagined the moment of horror-filled regret she must have had when he was half way inside her and wouldn’t stop telling her how beautiful her soul was. She wanted nasty sex, he wanted to be inspired. She probably told him to pull out and sing while she masturbated, which he thought was hot until she requested a rendition of Chris Brown’s “Kiss, Kiss.”

2. “Hot” Music is Played Out

The  most soulful performances last night came from the Avett Brother, Mumford & Sons, Norah Jones and Mick fucking Jagger.  Why aren’t people with dark skin making any stripped down, affecting real music? For the chorus of people that will now chime in with 1,000 names that I’ve already heard, let me tell you what I mean. Last night was the biggest stage in music, and what you saw from the alternative crowd was an incredible sense of artistry and perspective. You saw people actually anxious to expressive themselves. Marvin Gaye was like that, Stevie Wonder was, hell, even Luther Vandross was. Luther was an overweight cupid whose voice and emotion made him a legend. If he came out as a new artist tomorrow, we’d miss out. He wouldn’t be “hot” enough to make “hot” music. I’m sick of “hot.”

I will say that Janelle, B.O.B., and Bruno Mars were entertaining as hell though. I want Black Soul back.

1. Usher is Dangerously Close to the Edge of  Whackness

Justin Bieber saved Usher’s performance at the end. Consider that for a moment. The shit was whack until Bieber, who has the chance to hit more females than any man in the history of mankind, jumped in and injected life into the set. Did Usher hurt his leg or something? Why can’t he dance anymore? He used to be a beast but now it looks like he’s just up there doing weird movements. Usher’s only 32 you guys, that’s like “Dangerous” era Michael Jackson. That Michael was still the illest dancer on the planet BY FAR and could rock any show that needed rocking. Usher, not so much. White people need to hurry up and quit being mad at Chris Brown so we can get him dancing again because Usher’s shit is boring. Beiber on the other hand is getting more interesting. I don’t think he’s going anywhere. He’s like a new White little Justin Timberlake.

That’s it for now. The Oscar’s are coming up soon which means my Hollywood neighborhood will be officially be a circus for two weeks.