Friday, February 21, 2014

The Traveling Traveler Vol. 1: Post #8: London

As I sat in Heathrow Airport...

and stared at the airport monitor and awaited my 10.5 hour flight back to Los Angeles, I watched my flight get delayed 12 minutes at a time and I couldn't help but wonder how I ended up here.

11:57...
12:33...
13:09...

Quite honestly, I was in no rush to get back to LA. I had bootleg BEATS headphones that I acquired in Istanbul that were sure to break at any moment. My backpack straps were on their last legs and I would have to go work the day after I landed. But all in all this trip had been a whirlwind adventure most of which I could remember.

However, this is not why I wanted to get on the plane.

I needed to get on this plane because I was drunk. Belligerently.

The details of last night were really a blur. Seriously.

It was only supposed to be a 20 hour layover in London. But then the hostile had a fully stocked bar. And after I gave up on seeing the sights at night, getting drunk seemed the next best thing. The greatest thing in fact.

The time was 20:45: Enter the Aussie.

Me and the Aussie (or the Aussie and I) met at the opposite ends of our world tours. He was just beginning as I was here to conclude. So we began to share the tales of wonder and merriment of our times traveling.

We agreed that Spain was home to some of the most beautiful women this world will ever be blessed with.

We agreed that Paris is for fags. And not cigarettes.

We also agreed that it doesn't matter if your black or white, it's all about the love you have for the world in the things that live in it. *MESSAGE*

What I did not know was that sharing travel stories must be accompanied by drinking. Heavily. I complied.

The time was now 21:30. The Aussie and I had split about 3 rounds at this point. And then karaoke started.

A free drink was offered to anyone brave enough to participate.

Enter I.

I already being drunk decided to perform (flawlessly might I add) an ode to my current city of Los Angeles in the form of Snoop Doggy Lion's classic hit "What's My Name" to the pleasure of a cheering crowd.

And then we drank some more. 2 Shots from the DJ for my Aussie friend and I. A round of Pilsner's for my Aussie friend and I from the bartender.

The time was now 23:07. I was then presented with scotch neat from the random old white guy who was singing Etta James. This is where things get hazy. Blackout.

The time was now 23:59. My Aussie friend an I were presented 4 Rounds of shots from the random white girls from Texas who were very impressed with my comprehension of "Superman-ing that hoe".

And of course another round from my Aussie friend who by the way was just as drunk as me. Blackout.

The time now was 0:57. So I went out side to smoke a fag wit some blokes I met inside and things began to get hazier.

And then I blacked out.

The time was now 1:17. I found myself back in my 4 person room preparing my electronic devices for departure and then much to my dismay I blacked out again...I think in the middle of a conversation with someone in my room.

The time was now 9:01. I wake up to find a naked Asian girl in my room that was not there the night before. Pretty hot too.

Or was she. Fuck. I really can't remember. I just know I had to get to the airport on the tube.

Exit I. And I left the lock I just brought at the hostile for my trunk and instructed the hosts to give it to someone for free. Share the luck. Get it.

Blackout yet again.

The time was 11:57. And now I sit in Heathrow Airport a little more drunk then I was when I began writing this because of the free alcohol samples I have just consumed by walking around the terminal looking for a shoe shiner. Dumb decision. Blackout.

The time is now 13:21. And we are about to board this plane now. Its so long to Europe and one crazy ass night in London. I will miss you for now.

And hopefully I'll be able to fill in the blanks of last night after time traveling (read: stupid drunk) across the United States of these Americas.

Seriously.
I got my picture with the guard though.
Cheers.

Friday, April 26, 2013

Stay (pyramid) Schemin'

It's been a while since we last spoke hasn't it.

A lot has changed in this crazy place we called a world.

Quick recap of the important stuff:


  1. Ray J remains relevant by reminding us that he did in fact fuck Kim Kardashian first. And if the nigga is dumb enough to believe that, he's probably dumb enough to do concerts in living rooms. Oh, wait....
  2. Britney Griner shocked the world and revealed that she really is a woman who loves women.
  3. And Big K.R.I.T. released a mixtape hotter than 80% of the rap albums in the past year. #FACT.

But alas, we are back and we do have something to say. Well, at least I do this week.

And this week we are going to talk about pyramid schemes.

That's right, pyramid schemes. Now you may think, "Ricochet, you are not a financial adviser and last I checked, you were broke taking the bus everywhere."

Well "HEY... YOU MIND YOUR GOTDAMN BUSINESS!" Is what I'll say to that.

But yes, pyramid schemes.

It has come to my attention that more and more of my brethren and sisteren, in an effort to skip over the "hard work" part of getting rich, have dabbled into these newfangled get rich quick schemes. I only know this thanks to the now hundreds of invites and messages I get from "friends" and "acquaintances" concerning all the money I can make if I just sign up.

Now, my problem is not with young brothers and sisters on their grind to a million. No, that is freaking awesome. Please, by all means proceed, my kings and queens.

My problem is the people involved in the pyramid scheme don't believe it's a pyramid scheme. Let me give you a pseudo-real life example:

Let's say there is this company called BitVentures. And BitVentures is a company for one and all to join. They sell you the dream that BitVentures offers you a chance to be your own boss, make your own hours, do whatever you want to do. But first, you need to sign up and pay a a hefty intake fee to be apart of this network. Then you find out that in order to make money, you have to go find some sucker niggas like yourself, sell them the same exact dream and get them to sign up and rinse and repeat.

Confused, here's a graphic.

Pyramid Graph

It never ceases to amaze me how people want to get rich without any work at all. Sure, every once in a while you hit the lottery. And I mean literally hit the lottery for MILLIONS of dollars.

Other people have some real talent. Like real fucking talent. These people include (but definitely not limited to) athletes, dancers (and in their own category) rappers, singers, actors, etc. These people also hit the lottery in a way.

Then you have the "smart" people. The doctors, lawyers, CEO's, magicians, you know, those guys. And these guys had to develop the skills necessary, make the right connections and again, get very lucky to be in the right place at the right time to really make it big.

Or, of course, you could be born rich. And again, all luck.

But no. For some reason people seem to see beyond all these things and just see the product. And so nowadays, people don't wait to become CEO's. They just go to Vista Print and make business cards that say they are CEO's.

Now I know we all have to start somewhere, this is the truth. But my man, how you a CEO of anything and your mom is claiming you as a dependent.

Or you have the niggas who's hoops dreams have become so deflated they've decided to pick up a microphone with dreams of making NBA money through rap music. Not realizing that not even the really, really, REALLY good rappers don't even get on. And 2 Chainz... Well, you get what I'm saying.

And lastly, you have the people who try pyramid schemes. And these are all different types of people. They span all types of education, ages, races and creeds. Because the desire to possess money is realer than the pursuit of a passion for these folks.

And these folks are suckered by folks much smarter than them.

And rinse... Annnnnnnd repeat.

Whether you are trying to sell me vacation package nonsense or some form of internet currency that isn't really real, I'll pass. I learned a long time ago that when you chase money, it will always allude you. Mostly because it isn't actually real.

Now don't get me wrong, I make money. I spend money. I know how important money is. But if half the black men that wanted to be rappers had put that same dedication to bettering their communities...
Or if half the instagram models used their time to empower themselves instead of taking pictures seeking validation from people they will never meet... Well, you get what I'm saying.

But this ain't a soap box speech. This is just about pyramid schemin' mo fos who feel some type of way because I don't want to be involved in their pyramid schemes. How could I, a college educated black man, get down with your "company" when I type your company into Google and the first thing that pops up is "PYRAMID SCHEME"?

Let's say you go to a bar and you meet this girl. Her name is Tiffany. And Tiffany is hot. I mean, smoking hot. You would drink this girl's bath water hot. And you and Tiffany hit it off, but she's really gotta run tonight, her friend is drunk and she has to get her home. But your boy tells you, hey, I think that girl looks familiar. I've seen her before.

So you go home, Google this girl and the first thing that pops up is an HIV Outbreak Chart. And she is at the top of the HIV pyramid.

Are you still going to talk to this girl? Wouldn't you at least be very cautious and ask some serious questions?

Or would you ignore all the signs in front of your face and fuck her raw?

I guess the moral of the story is if you are trying to sell people pyramid schemes, you have HIV.

Wait... that's not the moral.

Anyway... you get what I'm saying right?

So, listen... Lemme tell you about this sweet business opportunity I ran across. I thought of you immediately. You know how everybody drinks coffee right? Oh... You don't drink coffee? Whatever, doesn't matter, we're gonna be RICH!

One thing though...

I just need you to find a few more people willing to invest...

Wednesday, October 24, 2012

We Shall Overcome? Someday?

Today I had one of those moments in life that makes you go, IRONY.


Thank you Alanis Morissette for forever associating yourself with the word ironic.
At least with me.

It was also one of those moments that led me to discuss my thoughts in blog entry.


As I wandered through the hallways of the middle school, I overheard 2 young boys having a conversation, the likes of which had no business in a school building. At least not during school hours. And as I approached the conversation I heard,

"Man, these niggas don't even know my nigga.
"Fo' sho, man, niggas be sleeping on Tyga."

Two things were happening here.

First, "niggas be sleeping on Tyga"!. This makes me hate the youth, the media aimed at youth and most of all the parents of the youth for even letting this statement be thought of and then subsequently put forth into the universe. 

Secondly, these students were using inflammatory language outright in the hallway. But being the young, hot shot counselor that I am, I was ready to just send the boys on their way back to class with a quick 

"Watch your language young men, you are in school and you know better than that. And don't do drugs."

But as luck would have it, fate intervened and in stepped Old Black Lady Security Guard. Now Old Black Lady Security Guard had been here at the school for a while and maybe had previous interactions with these students which may in turn have influenced how she responded.

I must admit, I blacked out for most of her I Have a Dream Speech but I did hear some things like,

"people died being called that word..." 

and 

"do you know that word is meant to demean people that look like us..." 

and then something about Martin Luther the King Jr. 

The way those kids walked away from that, it was is if they felt they had been the ones who filled the pool Rodney King drowned in.

Not giving a fuck.

I did feel bad for Old Black Lady Security Guard. She probably possessed so much wisdom, so much strength and all she wanted to do was impart on these young men the psychological damage they were inflicting on themselves. 

It really is a sad day when kids don't respect what their elders have to say.

And as they went their way and  I prepared to go mine, Old Black Lady Security Guard pulled me aside. I figured, 

"Here's my chance to receive some good old fashioned sassy black wisdom from Old Black Lady Security Guard."

But I was wrong because this is what she said.

"These little niggas don't have any respect. Probably end up in jail wit the rest of them other niggas."

NIGGA WHAT?

All I could think was

"Did this nigga just yell at them little niggas for saying nigga in the hallway. This nigga can't be serious right now."

All of the wisdom Old Black Lady Security Guard once had was now reduced to some old nigga talking shit.

But I did not correct Old Black Lady Security Guard. Unlike those little niggas, I understand my place. And so I took those words of wisdom, offered a tired sigh and a smile and proceeded back to my office.

And as I strolled away humming the tune of any DMX song, all I could do was shake my head and say,

...Niggas.

Monday, July 30, 2012

Plight of the Nice Guy

We've heard it all before.


"Nice guys finish last and alone and sad and pass these traits along to their offspring."



You may have heard it differently but you get the point Nice guys usually get the raw end of the deal. But today, just for you nice guys out there, I've enlisted the help of my good friend @FollowBMarie (which you should totally do after you finishing reading this), rather, she enlisted me to spread the WORD of the nice guy.

So if you fancy yourself a nice guy or if you know someone who does, this can and will be good for you, or their simpin' asses. 

Theory of the Nice Guy (as told by @FollowBMarie)


Reason 1-Maybe it's not because you're nice. Could it be that you have some other character flaws? Maybe you're not funny. Girls love funny men. Maybe it's because you're not fun? Although staying home & cooking every night is nice, it does get old quick. Just like men need spice in their life women like spice in their relationships. The man who continuously blames his lack of lady luck on being nice is not very different from the gal who chants "niggas ain't shit" Be reflective. It's possible something else is at work here.

This reason is great. Nice is bland. Bland is boring.

Reason 2-Nice guy by day, scumbag by night? You, sir, have more in common with the bad boy than you would like to admit. You believe that you are a nice guy. And hey, there are some nice aspects. But let's face it, most people would not associate you with nice. But this doesn't make you a bad person, maybe not even a bad boy. Just a Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde type.

Also superb reasoning. Nothing is worse than a fair-weather personality. 

Reason 3-You're too nice. Ok. This is the cliche one. But it's sort of true. GIRLS WANT TO FEEL SPECIAL! But sometimes it gets confusing. If you're taking every Jane, Jen & Mary out and making them all feel like a queen for the day. Guess what, it looks like game. Furthermore no one feels special. We want to be the only one you go above and beyond for, but if you go above and beyond for everyone, I'm sorry to say this, but you may end up behind. Now I'm not saying start slamming doors and only open it for your lady. But if you go above & beyond for everyone, well go to infinity and beyond for your main squeeze.

The whole "everybody wins" argument retooled. If everyone is special, then no one is special. But the Toy Story reference is priceless.

Reason 4-Define nice. Sir, you aren't it. Not even close. I mean yes, on paper you're the shit. But how can I put this? You're an ass. You're rude. You're full of yourself. And let me guess what you want to talk about--yourself, right? Be as aggressive as you want in the conference room, boardroom, classroom, or courtroom, but if you want a lady you better soften those edges.

For me, this is the crux of the reasoning. What does nice actually mean? I'll get to this later.

Reason 5-It's not about the battle, it's the war. So you opened every door, paid for every dinner, took her on vacation, went down to her father's to ask for her hand in marriage, only to be left at the altar. I get it. It hurts, but if you were the best man that you could be, then listen. She either was not the one or doesn't deserve you. There is some nice girl out there who will cater to you just as much as you spoil her. Realize that in the first lap you may be losing, maybe even in the second & third. But it ain't over til it's over. So stay true to your nice guy ways you might just cross that finish line first, nice guy.

I'm going to let this reason slide because I love @FollowBMarie and I understand as a female, it is in her nature to give hope. You nice guys should appreciate this.

Now, my source of contention can be outlined in Reason #4. What is a nice guy? It is my belief that woman don't want a nice guy, and here's why.

Do you ever remember being told "play nice"? Of course you do. Do you remember what it meant? Probably not. Playing nice didn't mean "treat all competitors with respect, don't cheat and be a good sport". Play nice meant don't do anything that is going to mess up this game. Don't hurt people's feelings. Don't say mean things. Make sure everyone is having fun.

While it may be easy to take this "nice" attitude into arenas in which the rules and guidelines dictate our behavior we must take into account that we are talking about relationships. And there are no rules in love. Nice is vanilla. Nice is what you do when you don't know someone, a default setting. And so the nice guy who you would love on your company kickball team may not make the best choice for a mate. 

Unless what you want is a push-over because the last guy walked over you and you would like to taste that feeling for a little while, which is cool. Every girl deserves one simping ass nigga in her life to step on. 

Except ugly girls, they just deserve to breathe and hold onto the off chance of pro-creation.

I feel what women are looking for is a good man and the inability to articulate this is the reason why the good man can't be found. The good man knows all about respect and honesty. But he also knows about winning and putting personal feelings aside to accomplish the larger goal. He doesn't worry about rocking the boat because he learned how to steer in troubled waters long ago. Even Jesus got angry.

Nice guy's don't finish last because they are trying to win. Nice guys finish last because winning was never the goal. The goal was to make sure the race was run fairly, that everybody had a shot, that the rules were followed. And while undoubtedly admiral, being selfless and concerned with the wellness of others will ensure that others will always finish the race before you.

And thanks to that guy, I get the girl. Every time. Half the time.