REGGIN Please (Pronounced Red-Gin with a soft "G")

"Grab the keys to the five, call my niggas reggins on the cell, bring some weed beer, I got a story to tell."

Notorious B.I.G

As some of you already know, this past weekend, I was involved in a fairly nasty three-car-pile-up.

And though after 3 days, I've finally resigned myself to the fact that for the next month, I’ll more-than-likely be riding around in some God-awful, compact, rental car; equipped with 15 inch hubcaps, manual windows, and cloth interior;  I’m still really upset about it…

It all happened on Saturday evening as I was travelling from a Howard University Homecoming tail gate party, to the after party at the bar; when some girl driving a Toyota Prius, (I later learned her name was Lashonda Hightower) with her toddler daughter (Dashonda Hightower) in the backseat, rear ended me, after she was rear ended by another dude (who I later learned was named Reggie Wilson) driving a Toyota Camry…

Lashonda claims that her "short stop" was caused by a "bus” that suddenly slammed the brakes in front of her. Causing Reggie's Camry to run into the back her car, propelling her car into mine.

Seeing as how Ms. Hightower came careening into me, and not a bus, I remain perplexed as to just what “bus” stopped short in front of her… And so with that, I am irate.

And while I was able to maintain my composure & refrain from going all animal thug at the scene of the accident, (for a number of reasons), including the fact that I was mildly contemplating spitting game at Lashonda... I mean, she was nothing to write home about: Brown-skinned, weave, bicep tattoo, and one 3rd-helping of sweet potato pie at Thanksgiving dinner away from transitioning from "thick" to "too thick"... You know, pretty much your "Standard Native-DC Nubian"...

But seeing as we were just 8 days out from the start of 2011 Cuffin' Season, I have resorted to grasping for straws. So yeah, I considered spitting game. That was until I witnessed Lashonda slam her cell phone on the passenger seat of her car and heard her tell her toddler daughter, Dashonda:

“Your bitch-ass daddy must be havin’ a helluva good time with one of his skinny little whores because he won’t pick-up his G*d damn phone. That m*thfucker stay lunchin. I know he hears his phone ringing. That bastard just tweeted like 5 minutes ago..”

And so with that, I decided it was probably in my best interest to leave her be.(Though apparently Reggie had decided otherwise, as I later saw him try to go in for the kill.). Speaking of Reggie, I turned around to the Toyota Camry, and saw him light up a Black & Mild... I shook my head as I realized that I was surrounded by #reggins... At that point my own #reggin alarm went off in my own head, and I scurried back to my car to take the 5 bottles of Mike's Hard Lemonade ( that I had smuggled from the tailgate) that were on the passenger seat, and coyly stash them in the trunk before the police arrived on the scene.

Anyway, today I picked up the accident report from the police station…Upon returning home, I decided I needed to investigate further, as to figure out just how far the claims process had progressed.

Initially, I was a little worried about Reggie trying to pull a fast one, as at the scene of the accident, he had stated that the Camry he was driving belonged to his mother…

As I scanned the accident report, I noticed that his insurance company was listed as “North Carolina Auto Insurance Company.” And of course I thought WTF #reggin ass company is that? But you know how #reggins are; they're not happy unless they're employing the most bootleg companies on the open market.

And so after continuing to scan the accident report, and surprisingly seeing that Lashonda Hightower's insurance company was the very reputable, State Farm, I decided to call them first.

The first issue that I encountered with State Farm was pertaining to their decentralized business model… These mofos tried to to transfer me to every incompetent, independent #reggin sales agent, up & down the East Coast.

The first number I called, was some bloodthirsty #reggin, actually named Willis Jackson, who apparently decided to ignore my repeated requests to be transferred to claims, and instead attempted to try to push a new, full-coverage auto policy, fully-equipped with no-cost, cracked-windshield  service & new car replacement coverage... I reiterated to Mr. Jackson that I was not interested. And that I needed to be transferred to the claims department.

And with that, Willis transferred me to another State farm rep, whom of course was yet another #reggin. This time, Tyisha Jenkins… Tyisha, seemingly in desperate need of a commission, attempted to hock a homeowners policy to me, TWICE, despite the fact that I had clearly declined her gorilla sales tactics, politely explaining to her that I was “all set” on homeowners insurance.

And that is when Tyisha decided to transfer me to the king of all #reggins; Carmello Jackson…  Mr. Jackson, upon picking up the phone immediately apologized for any unclear verbatim, as he explained that he was “in the middle of knocking back some leftover Honey Chipotle Barbecue wings that his wife had made for dinner last night”…  I shook my head. Still I tried to be cordial… That was of course until he mentioned some irrelevant sh*t about how I could save up to 20% on my insurance if I opted to insure my automobile, home & boat, under his Umbrella coverage.

And this is precisely the moment when I lost it.…

I informed Mr. Jackson that I don’t own a boat. But I do own two pair of boat shoes. And that I would have “no problem placing said boat shoes on his neck.”, if he failed to be so kind as to transfer me to a centralized, State Farm, claims call-center.

And with that, Carmello, acting surprised & expressing a tone of indignation, as if I were the one that was crazy, finally transferred me to the claims center… After an unconscionable 35 minute hold, I was informed by claims rep, Jamar Brown, that State Farm had made an unsuccessful attempt to contact the operator of the Toyota Camry, Reggie Wilson. And that they also had not had any luck locating Reggie's insurance company.

Jamar then went on to ask me if I would be so kind as to fax to him the accident report, as his system notes read that although “a call had been placed to DCPD earlier that morning, they had currently been unable to acquire a copy of the report."

At that point I hung up the phone and called Geico. I provided my Geico rep (consequently her name was Lizzy McDermott) with Reggie Wilson's name, telephone number, driver’s license number, and North Carolina Auto Insurance policy number… Lizzie put me on hold and within 2 minutes came back and told me that they had successfully identified the  Insurance company of the driver of the Toyota Camry as “#Reggin Mutual.” Lizzie then went on to provide to me the name & telephone number of the insurance adjuster at #Reggin Mutual who was handling the claim.

I called State Farm back and told Jamar Brown that Geico had identified the 3rd party insurer and info. And Jamar was all:

"Wow, how'd they get it so fast"...

I replied:

Um, probably because whereas  you Jamar, didn’t actually do sh*t; the good white folks at Geico actually picked up the telephone and placed a call.

It then became glaringly obvious to me that  State Farm insurance company is clearly owned & operated by incompetent #reggins. It probably started out owned by whites, but at some point, not unlike Prepaid legal & YTB Travel, they probably decided that it was just easier to sell independent contracting rights to entrepreneurial-minded blacks.  Hell, Herman Cain probably even peddles State Farm insurance out of a Godfathers Pizza storefront in Atlanta.

And that is precisely the moment when I realized that you can continue support black-owned business if you want to, but from this point forward, I prefer the companies that I do business with to be run by Anglos. Preferably Jews, but really, any Anglos will suffice.

And of course as Chris Rock said, there's a difference between Black folks & niggas #reggins. And obviously there are many profitable, efficient, customer-service-oriented, Black-owned businesses. But unless & until Angie's List creates some sort of online mechanism to differentiate between the two, I think I'm off of black-owned business for awhile.

And of course many of you #regginlovers will ruthlessly criticize me for my position. You'll say I'm being ignorant, close-minded & unfair... And to that, I simply respond:

#RegginPlease!

“Tell Mommy I don’t go to the church. Tell  Ak I don’t go to the Mosque. I blow blunts, hold guns, and Imma be right there when the soldiers go march. I play my part, & my heart seems colder than March. But on the flip side of things, my heart’s warmer than June.” – Styles P.

I Want Winners! I Want People That Want To Win!

"The lockout has been lifted, and we're just over 2 weeks away from the official start of the 2011-2012 "Cuffin Season". Recently, a few friends and I got together for an owners’ meeting.  Our agenda was to discuss the overall state of the league..."

When my friends & I get together, we often amuse ourselves through the casual use of a combination of metaphors & allegories, like that of which was demonstrated in the previous paragraph. I call it " Pig Nig Latin".


Anyway, if you don't know what an allegory is, don't worry. Nobody does... & if you don't know what a metaphor is, then  I strongly suggest you consider going back and coppin' your GED...


Okay, so for the purpose of this blog, I have translated of our "Nig Latin" text in (bold, italicized, parentheses)... ... Here's how our recent conversation went down: 

Me: “Only a couple weeks left till the start of Cuffin Season. How's the Franchise lookin'?” (What’s your chick situation looking like for the upcoming winter?)

"Levar": “Not good. I traded away my starting QB in the offseason because I thought I drafted her replacement.” (I left the girl I was dating for another girl)

Me: “And...”

Levar: “And she refuses to report to training camp. She's holding out for more money.” (She won’t commit. I think she’s the golddigger type. She probably thought I had money because I was poppin' bottles in the club the night I met her. But since she found out I work at the mall, she hasn't called me back)

Me:  "Don't panic dude.You just gotta take the players you already have and coach em up. See how they perform during OTA's & mini-camp. It's all about player development”. (Forget her ass. You still have a couple prospects left on your team. That one joint you were with last week is kinda decent. Get her in the gym. Tone her up a bit, and she'll be lookin' right.)

We also discussed other issues on the table, like:

Salary Cap: (Are you willing to commit to shelling out a substantial amount of money for the purposes of general dating, holiday gift exchange & Valentine’s Day fare?)

Guaranteed contract: (Is it your intention to be in an exclusive relationship with the woman whom you are dating?)

Length of Contract: (Is this simply a winter boo situation, or are you potentially seeking to renegotiate, and extend the relationship into the spring?)

Bonuses – (If she acts right, and things are going well, are you willing to reward her by footing the bill for a Tiffany's Charm bracelet, or even a weekend getaway; perhaps skiing, or maybe South Beach?)

Yes, these are all crucial issues that must be addressed before both sides can mutually come to a "Collective Bargaining Agreement". (A monogamous relationship)

My boy "Mike" is in pretty good shape:  Training camp had gone well for him. (The girl he’s dating hadn’t acted up, or demonstrated any characteristics suggesting that she might be “crazy”)… I mean she isn’t All-Star Material (She’s not that hot) but she's good enough to take him deep into the playoffs (She's decent enough to serve as a warm body to effectively get Mike through the winter)

But Mike has the tendency to fumble the rock. (Often times, he says the wrong things to women). So Mike just needed to avoid putting the ball on the turf (saying something stupid). And this time Mike held onto the rock (He kept his mouth shut). And so he methodically drove the ball nearly all the way down the field. (He’s been pretty patient with this girl).

A 5-yard-run here, (traditional dinner date) a 25-yard-pass there (he coughed up the money for two tickets to the musical"Fela".)... 

Mike was smart. He took what the defense gave him.(She still hasn't let him hit it yet, but they made out a bunch of times. And after the last time they hung out, Mike texted me to say that he had "finally gotten to 2nd base"). And now Mike is inside the Redzone, poised to score. (She just drunk texted Mike, asking him to come over her place).

Coincidentally, as soon as Mike got her text message, he was out the door. 5 minutes later he tweeted that he was "doing a buck on the 95" (Driving 100mph on 95 South) {She lives 10 miles south, in Virginia} 

On the other hand, my other boy "Rodney" never drives the ball methodically. He's prefers to run the "No Huddle", and stays in "Shot-gun" formation. (Rodney has no patience for these broads. Either he gets it quick, or he’s out). But Rodney also forgot about the mistake he made that prematurely ended last years playoff run (Rodney f*cked up last winter), when he refused to kick a field goal going into halftime. (Rodney shoulda gave the girl more than a week of dating before he started nagging her for sex). But instead  he wanted  to score a touchdown (He pressured her for sex). But the Hail Mary Pass was deflected in the endzone  (she refused to give him sex, suggesting that it was just too early in their relationship for all that) & he lost the game (Rodney got kicked to the curb).  His fate; a long, cold off-season (Last winter, the only thing Rodney was clutching was his pillow... Well, that and one other thing.)

Finally, there's my boy "Dan". He moved here from Cleveland. He got rid of his starting Point Guard, even though she was a dependable veteran (His longtime girlfriend). She never complained about the coach, even when they went through multiple losing seasons. (She had stuck with Dan through thick & thin. She even held it down with him when he failed the Bar Exam, twice). But despite the fact that she led the league in assists (she was kind, thoughtful & unselfish), Dan really wanted to sign a young phenom from Greece. Or was it Spain? Maybe it was both ( Dan wanted a younger, hotter, poly-ethnic chick). And so Dan gutted his roster, (he began to neglect his side chicks), all in the hopes of clearing enough cap space to sign that blockbuster free agent. (The younger, hotter, poly-ethnic chick)

But unfortunately, Dan's blockbuster free agent bypassed his offer. And instead, she opted to take her talents to South Beach. (She rolled down to Miami for the weekend with a Pro Ball Player, and never spoke to Dan again.)

And so gentlemen, today I leave you with this inspirational video from former San Francisco 49er head coach, the venerable Mike Singletary... Singletary is a champion. He won a Superbowl in 1985, while playing linebacker for the Chicago Bears.

And fellas, I ask you meditate on this video... Play it when you’re sprucing up for happy hour this weekend, or when you’re ironing your button-down & pre-gaming with the cheap vodka that you previously poured into an empty Grey Goose bottle, just in case a chick came over... Play it next weekend, before you leave out for that Howard Homecoming Weekend Event. And the week after, as you put on your costume for that Halloween Party. For November 1st begins Cuffin Season. And so fellas, for the next 2 weeks, this should be your mantra. Because now, more than ever, it's CRUNCH-TIME!

"I will not tolerate players that think it's about them, when it's about the team. And we cannot make decisions that cost the team, and then come off the sideline, and its nonchalant. No. You know what? This is how I believe, OK? I'm from the old school. I believe this: I would rather play with 10 people and get penalized all the way, until we've got to do something else. Rather than play with 11 when I know that right now that person is not sold out to be a part of this team. It is more about them than it is about the team. Cannot play with them! Cannot win with them!! Cannot coach with them!!! Can't do it!!!! I WANT WINNERS!!!!! I WANT PEOPLE THAT WANT TO WIN!!!!!!"  
                                                            
                                                           ~Mike Singletary~


                     

The Four Dollars & Sixteen Cents Plan: A model for Global Economic Recovery; inspired by Herman Cain's 9-9-9 plan

"Give em’ gum. Give em’ guns. Get em ‘young. Give em’ fun. But if they aint givin’ it up, then they ain’t getting none. And don’t give em all man, nah, just give em some.”- Lupe Fiasco

I have a confession. Sometimes I follow celebrities on Twitter for the express purpose of heckling them. For example, I recently started following NFL Wide receiver, and reality show co-star, Hank Baskett, just so that I could inquire with him as to how on earth he managed to stay in the league for 5 seasons, despite his grossly obvious lack of talent.

The most recent victim of my admittedly sophomoric hijinks is GOP presidential nominee Herman Cain. In fact, I have made it somewhat of a daily ritual to tweet Mr. Cain with disparaging remarks. And not because I don’t like him simply because he’s a Black Republican; but rather, because in an effort to pander to white folks, Cain has consistently taken to making such outrageously offensive public remarks as:

“Black people are brainwashed…”   

&

“If you’re not rich, don’t blame Wall Street, blame yourself.”

He even went so far as to refer to himself as “Black Walnut Ice Cream” on Fox News…  And in his autobiography, unapologetically documented how he was “unaffected” by the Civil Rights Movement, & how he hastily scurried off to the back of bus when the white man instructed him to do so.

And so apparently, Mr. Cain’s strategy to coon & buffoon his way to the White House is (temporarily) working.  (Though he needs look no further than Colin Powell & Michael Steele to realize just how long that’ll last.)

And so while some might suggest that the GOP’s current love affair with Cain, effectively throws a monkey-wrench into my theory that; “Republicans hate President Obama because he’s black”. I would argue that historically, the Slave master often times maintained a special place in his heart for his “House negro”.

And I suspect that it is Cain’s constant kowtowing, that according to the most recent NBC news poll, has recently exalted him to the top of the field, as the front-running candidate for the GOP presidential nomination.

So yes, for now, a Black man is riding high in the GOP. But not just any black man. For aside from Cain’s, Tiki Barber/ Wayne Brady-ish antics, Herman Cain has the persona of a cut & dry, plain as day, country n*gga... A-slick-talkin’, back-child-support-dodgin’; homemade-Barbecue-sauce-mixin’; ain’t-never-been- across-state-lines, backwoods, country nigga…

He strikes me as the type of black man who has spent the past decade of his life, ineffectively trying to raise the $500 it would cost him to purchase his Uncle Joonbug’s used Chevy truck, so that he can finally make good on his word of starting his own plumbing business.   But every time he manages to save about $450, he gets drunk off a bottle of Southern Comfort, and blows the money on diseased whores & crack-cocaine.

But no, that is not at all who Herman Cain is. In fact, it is quite the contrary. Herman Cain is quite the accomplished gentleman.  After experiencing humble beginnings in Georgia, Cain pulled himself up by his bootstraps; attending Morehouse College, and eventually ascending the ranks to become CEO of Godfather’s Pizza. And so despite that fact that I despise the man's politics,as a fellow black man in America,  I have to respect his lofty accomplishments ...

Fast-forward to 2011, and Cain's latest accomplishment is his highly visible presence in the Republican National Primary race.

And for the most part, he’s doing it by suggesting that if elected, he will call for a constitutional amendment, effectively throwing out the current tax code, and replacing it with his “9-9-9” program… 9% income tax… 9% corporate tax… 9% national sales tax

So I figure if that slick-talkin’; white-folks-kowtowin’; black-folk-denigratin’; back-of-the-bus lovin', country Negro, has the right to introduce a plan with the intentions of saving our great nation from economic collapse…  

Then this, big-butt-and-smile-trustin’; find-me-in-the-club-bottle-full-of-bub-bustin’’; yet-waits-till-AT&T-sends-me-a- text-message-to-remind-me-that-my- bill-past-due-payin, Negro, has the right to present my National Economic Recovery Plan too. .. Because the truth of the matter is, that neither myself nor Cain will be elected “dogcatcher”, let alone Leader of the Free World...

I call it my plan the “Four Dollars & Sixteen Cent’s Plan”

So let’s pretend for a moment that I’m running for President. And for the purpose of this exercise, I will operate under the name B’raque.

Hey why not?  I figure there will be a legion of little black kids with bastardized spellings of “Barack”, starting kindergarten over the course of the next decade.

Anyway, I, "B’raque Yeezy Fish-fillet Mayweather", am running for the Democratic Party Nomination for the President of the United States of America. And my platform issue is the “War against Obesity.”

I know that part of what makes our country so unhealthy, is our immeasurably high, collective intake of High Fructose Corn Syrup. (HFCS hereafter)... HFCS has a higher quantity of fructose than do traditional cane sugars. So although the body processes both in a similar way, HFCS is considerably more damaging to one’s heath than is refined sugar... And so I suggest that we as a nation make a decision to substantially reduce our HFCS intake, and in lieu of HFCS, make the smart choice to consume more refined sugar…

And so with what I think is a neutral, non-offensive, non-controversial, platform issue, I'm off the Iowa for the Iowa Caucus.

The presidential race officially begins with the Iowa Caucus.  The Iowa caucuses are extremely important because they are the first major electoral event of the nominating process for President of the United States… And so while the Iowa Caucus is by no means a guarantee of which candidate will be the next president of the United States, the general consensus among pundits is that it is considered to be a viable indicator of success, and thus, one that is paid close attention to.

And so if I, B’raque Yeezy Fish-fillet Mayweather, as a candidate for the highest office in the land, do not perform well in the Iowa Caucus, my potential donors will begin to seek a more viable candidate to give their money to...

And so it is imperative that I perform well in Iowa... Just one problem. I got clobbered in the Iowa Caucus, effectively ending any legitimate shot I had at winning the Democratic Nomination... 

So just why did I get beat-down in the Iowa caucus, ?

Well because our Political system is a “donor system”. Meaning, our politicians receive campaign contributions from “Special Interest” groups. These special interest groups are comprised of individuals, organizations, unions, and of course, corporate donors…  And often times, these are very generous contributions.

And our Politicians depend on these generous contributions in order to maintain their campaigns, win elections, and win reelection; so that they can effectively remain in office, pay their bills, and feed their families. 

And it’s all very straightforward. It’s a money game. 94% of the time, the candidate that raises the most money, wins the election. And so if I get outspent,  in all likelihood, I cannot win…

And I did not win, because corn syrup is a primary ingredient in soft drinks and often hidden in processed foods, including salad dressings, ketchup, jams, jellies, ice cream & bread. And so in order to keep production costs low, thus increase profits, Giant Multinational Corporations obviously prefer to use HFCS as opposed to natural cane sugar…

So now, despite having what I initially thought would be a nice, neutral platform issue, I have made giant corporations like Coca Cola, Pepsi & Heinz, very upset. Not to mention the Health Insurance & Pharmaceutical companies, who generate billions of dollars annually, in the treatment of diabetes, hypertension, high blood pressure, and other diseases brought on by HFCS.

So now, instead of these special interest groups contributing to my campaign, they turn on me, and instead choose to help to finance my opponent’s campaign.

My opponent then used said contributions to run negative ads against me in Iowa. And then the people of Iowa, whose main cash crop is corn, turned around and said, “Well there’s no way I’m going to vote for B’raque”; because corn syrup obviously derives from corn, which happens to be Iowa’s primary cash crop, thus, the primary means by which the people of Iowa feed their families.

The overwhelmingly visible negative ads in Iowa were just too much for me overcome. I lost the Iowa caucus, and thus I lost my campaign contributors, because losing the Iowa Caucus is the political “kiss of death.”

And so in order to maintain my candidacy for president, instead of following through with my initial intention to promote the war on obesity, instead, I retract my initial position, and instead, become a slave to the production and sale of HFCS, because I am a slave to my campaign donors.

And I utilized corn syrup as an example, but really it is any industry... Politicians are slaves to contributions. If they want clean energy, Big Oil comes after them... If they desire increased banking regulation, so as to protect consumer rights, the big banks will be up in arms... If they try to take Nicotine off the shelves, they’re up against “Big Tobacco.”

You see, we don’t live in the United States of America. We live in the United States of Corporate America.

Therefore, any good cause that a politician would like to pursue, can only be pursued but so far, because somewhere on the other side of that issue, there is a giant corporation or industry, earning billions of dollars in revenue. And that corporation or industry will vehemently oppose.

And there is only one way that I can to rectify this. And that is by effectively eliminating the influence of the Family farms in Iowa, the big banks in NY, Big Oil in Texas, big health Insurance, Big Tobacco, and every other organization who currently possesses a lobby in Washington… And if we did, we would quickly find that elected officials would become emancipated. They would now be free to legislate with their conscious & their hearts, as opposed to with their wallets & their purse strings

So the question now becomes; how can we remove the burden of this influence?

Wait for it… … … That’s right. “Four Dollars & Sixteen Cents Plan”

We can remove the burden of this influence by removing Corporate Donor-ship, and subsidizing that money by collecting an additional $4.16 from even tax payer in America.

You see, there are 300 million people in America. Consider for a moment, that 1/3 of these people pay taxes. That is 100 million people. Take 100 million people and multiply by 100 dollars per tax payer, per year. What do you get? A hefty annual sum of 10 billion dollars.

10 billion dollars per year is an adequate amount for every politician; local, state & federal to run their campaigns.

So why $4.16? Well, Most people get paid bi-weekly. Some people get paid weekly, some monthly, others, on a different schedule. But most people bi weekly. That’s 24 pay periods per year.

$100/24 pay periods = $4.16 per person per paycheck…  A nominal sum that most people, even the working poor, can afford.

And of course I’m not an economist. And my Four Dollars & Sixteen Cents plan is probably oversimplified. But until we can remove this burden of raising donor money, from our elected officials, we cannot effectively restore the integrity of the Democratic process, and our country will continue to experience the polarizing Beltway divide that has sunk our economy to our historical depths.

                                                           "Whats she havin'? Fish-Fillet" - Kanye West, W.T.T

How to get a man: an informative guide for single ladies....

Recently, I had the honor of attending a good friend’s celebratory birthday dinner. During the dinner, I had the opportunity to make acquaintance with a young lady,who quite frankly, I would not date. And the reason I would not date her is not because she was grossly hideous, lacked intelligence, was intolerably unpleasant, or presented herself as a "bad dresser". In fact, it was quite the contrary. She was attractive, intelligent, affable, and a snazzy dresser to boot. But for all of her pros, I could immediately see that this young lady possessed one glaring flaw. A severely low “dating I.Q.”

I knew this because during our conversation, this young lady informed me that she refuses to participate in Facebook, Twitter, Gchat, or any other form of social networking. I mean don’t get me wrong, I  immediately felt overwhelmed with social media the other day, after receiving a friend request on “Angie’s List” ...  But at this point I only know two living souls who have yet to sign up for Facebook at one time or another; the young lady at the dinner, and my 93-year-old grandmother. So I think it’s safe to say that in October of 2011, maintaining a Facebook account is pretty much standard procedure.

The young lady then went on to say that she had decided to part ways with the most recent gentleman who had (fruitlessly) attempted to procure her affection, because as she put it, “he preferred text message communication, as opposed to telephone conversation.” The way she acted, one might have thought he was asking her to “sext”, not text…  If ever this young lady were to wonder as to why she is single, she need do no more than inquire within…  I would articulate to her, in the kindest possible way, that “you are single because can’t nobody get in touch with your ass. Stop trippin’ over commonplace modern technologies”

This woman demonstrates a classic mistake females make. So often, they are overly dismissive of men. Cutting men off for inconsequential reasons.

But this particular young lady is not alone.  

Another young lady, whom I follow on Twitter, was tweeting back & forth with her friends, encouraging them to follow her lead, by cooking for men on the first date.

I carefully informed her that cooking for a man on the first date, while being the best thing that could happen for that man, is absolutely the worst thing she can do to herself… Cooking for a man on the first date, at best conveys:

“I really want to go out of my way to demonstrate to you just how domestic I am, thus what a great girlfriend/wife I will make, should you decide to choose me.”

And at worst, it says:

“You don’t even have to spend the 50 bucks it would cost you to take me to a restaurant, to earn the privilege of my company. I’m so painfully desperate and lonely, that I’ll gladly offer my company up to you, for free. In fact, I’m even willing to put out the money for groceries and the customary bottle of wine, as an added incentive.”

It was then that I realized just how clueless, many women are, as to the reason they remain perpetually single.

And because I’m the do-gooder humanitarian type, and because “Cuffin Season” is barreling down on us, with the speed, force & velocity of a 250lbs linebacker, with a shockingly unabated path toward the Quarterback; I’ve decided to take a few moments to provide the single women of the world with a blueprint, that if embraced; with an open heart, and studied with zealot-like fervor, will help them to avoid yet another hopelessly destitute, suicidal thought-provoking, winter.

Okay, okay. My last statement was hyperbole. But I bet you wouldn’t mind having a man. 

Alright, now some of you may be saying, “Black Don Draper, why would I take advice from you?” Well, two reasons:

1.      

            I’m a dude. Therefore I possess an inately keen understanding of how the male mind operates… For ex, I attended a house party this past weekend. It was a nice affair. Seemingly, every 10 minutes, a fresh batch of Fried chicken was being ushered in from an electric deep-fryer that was smartly positioned outside, on the balcony, so as to avoid having the house smell like fried chicken... The hostess also had the wherewithal to provide a seemingly endless supply of 4 different types of delectable homemade dip… The Hookah Pipe was flowing (although curiously, the hostess only provided one plastic tip for the hookah pipe, which had apparently been used prior to that evening, as I witnessed her retrieve it from the dishwasher)... The TV was tuned to college football. And good music was coming through the speakers. All was seemingly well. But just as the first bars of Jay Z “Girls, Girls, Girls” began to play, thus all the men present began to collectively nod their heads to the beat; one girl (who I’m sure is single), irrevocably damaged the vibe, by abruptly changing the music, cutting off the classic Jay Z track, in favor of a Beyoncé album. The women got excited, and began to sing and dance. I assume the collective female enthusiasm then motivated said pseudo-DJ-chick, to follow-up her initial song selection, with yet another Beyoncé ballad. By the time the 3^rd Beyoncé track came on, the room began to empty. Men were putting on their scarves & coats, and heading for the hills. I don't know if they were going home, but they were sure as hell raising up outta there... 

      Without caution, this girl had undermined not only her own, but also, all of her female friends’ chances at a hookup, by unwittingly running off most of the men. (I of course stayed; as there was no way I was going to abandon a seemingly endless supply of fried chicken.)

2.       Reason number 2 is: not only am I a dude, I’m a real dude.  Perhaps even too real for my own good, as my realness too often results in my own detriment…  For example, at this same party, some girl started bumpin’ her gums in my direction, going on & on about the football game on TV. And while I’m quite sure that her desire to strike up a conversation was predicated on the best of intentions; at a certain point, her incessant rambling left me with no alternative, but to interrupt her, and inform that I (not unlike ALL men, though they refuse to admit when an "XX" chromosome is within earshot) do not respect the thoughts and opinions of women when it comes to football (or any sport for that matter). And so I let her know that I would greatly appreciate it, if she were to stop running her mouth, and kindly return to the balcony, to tend to the upcoming batch of fried chicken.

So yes, I’m a dude, and I’m real… So basically, even  if you find my opinions to be somewhat chauvinistic, the truth is, my sometimes offensive opinions are, in all likelihood, your best bet toward bridging the gap between your current “single” status, and your next romantic relationship.

But don’t fret. I have previous experience in this line of work… Not long ago, I announced on Facebook, that I have the uncanny ability, to accurately pinpoint the reason as to why any woman is single, within 10 minutes of meeting her.

Upon making this proclamation, unexpectedly, within minutes, my inbox was flooded with messages, and I was fielding Gchat IM’s and text messages, two-at-a-time, from women, inquiring as to why I believed they were single. … The list varied. In one case, I told a woman that she need look no further than the 15 year string of low-down, no-good-men; for whom she apparently had some sort of masochistic yearning to try to tame.

Another case was that of a young lady who couldn’t get into a relationship with a man, because she is clearly already involved in a hot & heavy affair, with her Cable Provider. Kinda hard for a man to find you when you race home every evening after work to glue yourself to DVRed Maury Povich paternity tests, & 3 hour blocks of Basketball Wives episodes, running on a loop, on VH1.

You need to be seen. You may have a torrid affair going on with Comcast, but the simple fact is, that you need to be “out there”? And no, your weekly standing appointment with “the girls” for Sunday Brunch is not sufficient. Fact is, you’re not going to meet any single dudes at brunch. Not any straight ones anyway. All the straight men you see at brunch are accompanied by women. So just go ahead and scratch that idea.

And then of course there is the “Church myth”. Women think they can find a "good God-fearing man" in church...  But just think about it for a moment. Who was the last person you knew that met their boyfriend/significant other at church. I’m not saying it can’t happen. However, I am suggesting that it’s rare… For the most part only man who meets his girlfriend at church is the pastor, and sadly for her, he’s already married with children.

But seriously, the Church myth gets me the most, because too often, women hold up married couples in their church as the benchmark of what love should be. Meanwhile, it was probably the guilt created by all of their pre-marital fornicating, that drove him to succumb to the pressure, and finally marry her ass...  So while its true that she is a virtuous woman now. Back in '99, it was all Hennessy & birth control prescriptions. 

But cases like the previous examples were the simple ones. Those are easy fixes. I was || <------ this close to informing one young lady that unfortunately, because of a number of pending variables, she is destined to die alone.  And it’s true. Sadly, although rare, there comes a point when a person’s “package” becomes just too undesirable for any person to want.

Thankfully though, most women will not be saddled with such a harsh predicament. Most women do not fall into that unenviable category. However, all women do inevitably fall into one of two categories…

Either she got it, or, she don’t.

What is it? It is the “IT factor”. And while some of it is based on God-given physical appeal, most of it is not. It is indefinable.  It is ineffable. It’s a confidence. An ora. A female swagger. The manner in which a woman carries herself.

It’s the reason that some women, even in a state of errand-running disarray; for example, when grocery shopping, or picking up their dry cleaning, constantly get hit on.  And other women, well, they don’t.

Ask yourself, “When was the last time I got hit on at the grocery store, by a man who wasn’t bagging my groceries at the checkout stand. (He’s a 50-year-old recovering heroin addict, so he doesn’t count.)

It’s probably been awhile. How do I know? Well because if it hadn’t been a while, you wouldn’t be hanging on to my every word with such fawning attentiveness.

So while I’ve got your undivided attention, the girl who possesses the “it” factor is sitting back, offering only part of her attention to these words. Another part of her thoughts are being spent thinking back to the dude that hit on her on the Metro on her way to work this morning… And still another is thinking about the dragon roll she’s going to order, in about an hour, when the dude who approached her last night at the gym, fulfills his commitment to take her out to that high-end sushi place for lunch.  

Yep, she’s got the it factor (and probably big breasts). But that’s neither here nor there. Let’s not get off topic.  You too are capable of having the it factor. You just need to develop it.

Start by sprucing yourself up a bit. You have desirable assets. Stop looking like sh*t every time you step out of your house. Accentuate your assets. I'm not suggesting that you have to have a fresh perm, and put on 6 inch heels to go to the car wash, (but it wouldn't hurt). I mean pretty much anything is an upgrade from that head-wrap, and those God-awful Crocs, I spotted you in at Harris Teeter last week.  

I’m not saying that you have to let it all hang out, like the scantily clad women who do those three quarter booty poses for photos, in front of backdrops of airbrushed Hennessey bottles and Cadillac’s, as they exit the club; but truth be told, while you’re busy criticizing them, they’re busy shutting men down in the club, because they all have men at home... I’m just sayin.

Lastly, although perhaps most unpopular. But don't kill me. I'm simply the messenger... 

The truth of the matter is, that being intimate with the man you are dating, prior to receiving a verbal commitment from him, expressing that the two of you are now in an exclusive situation, exponentially increases your chances of roping him.

Actually, let me rephrase that. Being intimate with the man that you are dating, prior to receiving a verbal commitment from him, expressing that the two of you are now in an exclusive situation, is 100% ABSOLUTELY ESSENTIAL TO YOU ROPING HIM.

Quite honestly, there’s no other way. It's just the world we live in... 

I'm not suggesting that you have to do it on the first date, but that whole "6 month rule" you've been holding onto for the brunt of your adult life, clearly isn't working.

We've all heard that: “he’s not going to buy the cow if he’s getting the milk for free.”  Well, maybe, maybe not. It depends on the situation. But one thing I do know for sure is that he’s not gonna buy the cow PERIOD, if he doesn’t get to sample the milk up front.

It’s like purchasing a car without taking it for a test drive. It’s like team ownership signing an athlete to a lucrative, long-term deal, without first having said athlete undergo a thorough medical examination… I don’t know how many different ways I can say this, but the fact is, it ain’t happening. And if you think it is, I have some 2012 Washington Wizards Playoff tickets that I’d like to sell you. Front Row! 10,000 bucks a-piece!

Look, every one of your girlfriends who has a boyfriend/husband was intimate with that man before he made a verbal commitment to her. In fact, its quite possible, perhaps even probable, that he made that verbal commitment, while in the very midst of their intimacy.

“I’m lookin’ for a southern Girl that cooks like Patty Labelle. Big ghetto Booty, Scarf over her doo-bee. Chanel under her Louie, Gucci, over her booty, Vicki cover her t*tty, attitude of the city. Pretty, witty, girly, worldly; one who likes to party, but come home early...” Jay-Z – Girls, Girls, Girls remix.