How To Be A Better Friend: Vol. 1

There once was a boy. Your average boy, with dreams and aspirations and dirt under his finger nails. This boy had always been afraid of public speaking so he decides to try his hand at spoken word poetry to overcome his fear. He goes to his room, writes a couple of poems, picks his favorite one and begins to memorize it. And this little boy is going in, like Rabbit in 8 Mile. But, like Rabbit in 8 Mile, his first time in front of the crowd, he chokes.

The poets clap for him anyway because it took courage to do what he did. And so he goes back to his room and gets back to the pad. But this boy doesn’t get better. In fact, the next three times he goes back, he’s worse than the time before. It has become clear that not only does this boy lack the verbal skills to be a good spoken word poet; he also lacks the writing skills and the ability to do spoken word poetry. Yet, he still goes back every week and never fails to disappoint the entire crowd. Every time.

There once was a girl. All her life she was called pretty. Right up until her 12^th birthday. Puberty hit and just like Dakota Fanning, that awkward adolescent stage came sweeping in before she knew it. Her confidence was not shaken however and her dreams of becoming a model were still coursing through her veins. Years and years of pictures were taken. Some of them were ok, some were WTF, but something became very clear over the years; the awkward stage had never really ended and only got more awkward after the 140lb weight gain.

But to be a model, nothing would stop this young girl. Not even her stretch mark's stretch marks.

There were once these guys. They decided to write a blog because they figured, “why the hell not?” And like all good ideas, it started off well but it lost steam. But a year later, these guys come back and start writing again like it never happened. And they are so excited that they start writing every day. And they are posting it on every social network. They even join new social networks and post them there. But things became clear along the way; these guys can’t actually write.

In fact, no post relates to the name of the blog, whatsoever in any way shape or form save some random reference to illegal contraband.  A blog name they thought so clever, but in fact, it was lazy and sad. But does their lack of writing skills, fan base, content, charisma or over all personality stop them from writing? Nope, they are determined to force you to read whatever they come up with.

“And what do all these people have in common?” you may be wondering. Well I’ll tell you.

They all have your fucking support.

Yes, your support. You may not support all of them, but you have definitely supported one of these people. You were just trying to be a friend; I get it, but look what you did. You’ve spawned a group of people who despite realizing they suck at their life’s dream; continue to ruin the world with their lack of desired talent.

You may also be saying “Ricochet, you are fucked up. You should never put people down. Regardless of how you feel nigga, you shouldn’t put other people down. Who are you to judge other people?”

I’m just the nigga writing this blog.

In short people,

He couldn’t write yesterday, she won’t be pretty tomorrow and they damn sure won’t ever be dope.

So as you go on your way, let us remember the wise words of a lady who had no problem NOT supporting terrible movements.