July 11, 2001
Bored and Diving For Remotes n' Shit
Whaddup ya’ll. By now, It should almost seem routine that I literally take
foreva to write another episode of the bitter truth. So here, right on time, at the 2, 3, or whatever week mark this is, I decided to bless ya’ll with mah bitter knowledge. Oddly enough, I realized it was time to update the joint as I was staring blank-faced into the TV at that gay ass Levi Jean commercial. You know, the one where the ugly ass belly buttons sing “I’m coming out.” The first time I saw that joint, I was like, “What the fuck is this gay shit?” The thought of it gives me shivers up my spine, it could be scary enough to cause nightmares - it’s just that fuckin freaky. The 4th time the commercial aired, that same night, all I could think was, “Damn, belly buttons are ugly.” And the 6th time it aired I said, “That’s it, I am watching way too much fuckin TV," and decided to get off my ass and do su’in productive. So here it go…..
The Sweat Off A Crackheadz Balls.
I didn’t know how else to title the wackness of the BET awards, nothing else comes to mind. I don’t know why I channel surfed past the show that night, I knew the show would provoke shit talking of massive quantity, a show that could only truly be appreciated by us bitter folk, yet I couldn’t leave it on. I leave the room for all of 10 seconds. When I return, I realize that the show I didn’t even wanna catch a glimpse of, is right in front of my face - my man is watching the awards. Damn, next time I’ll take the remote with me. Now I'm debating what my first action should be - to slap the shit out my man, kick him in the nutz, and then grab the controller or should I grab the controller first and then get on with the nut smashing?
Here I am, forced to watch this fuckin piece of shit show that is eating up my patience by the minute. I look over, think strategy, get a clear view at the controller, and go for it. Run, jump and “BOOOOM!” Someone just fell to the floor. Oh fuck, it’s me. Operation rescue remote fails horribly. What the fuck, I’ll peep it.
It was worse than I had ever imagined. The most unforgettable moment of the night was peepin Whitney Houston cracked out in all her diva glory. We all heard the rumors, we noticed how skinny this chick was, how much she would sweat just standing still, but to see it firsthand…. Priceless. This chick strutted out on stage, couldn’t hit a high note to save her life, sang shitty renditions of her own damn songs and hadda get some no name chick out the audience to finish her performance. What an utter waste of fuckin talent. Scandalous. She managed to embarrass her moms, her daughter and herself all in one night. And just when you thought she was through ackin a fool - thought that the ignorance had left the building - she proclaims Bobby Brown as the King of R&B. What the fuck? Where was I when this happened? Must be the crack talking, cuz even if Bobby Brown was my fuckin DAD I would still be able to admit that he aint shit, neva was shit, and never will be shit. The sweat off his nut sack must contain magic crystals to get any woman hooked on the pipe, let alone, believing he’s the got damn king of anything. Remind me to always have the remote with me, so I can guarantee that this shit never ever happens again.
Messin Wif My Emotions
After a week of diggin through the crates, just to find some decent music to listen to, I have to discuss the lack of quality hip hop out right now... again. Hey ya’ll, even I am getting sick of havin to rant and rave about it, but nothin’s changed, it’s still shit. Am I expecting too much? Is it just me that is sick of spending my hard earned dollars on a weak album with just 2 hot tracks? This year, for the month of June, nothing went platinum, nada. The only album to go multi-platinum was Shaggy (who the fuck bought that.) No one is spending their bills. I aint the only one feelin this way. The last hip hop joint I copped was Redman’s
Malpractice. It aint a masterpiece but I’ma diehard fan of Reggie Noble. I feel the off-the-wall type shit. He says shit that makes sense and let’s ya’ll get ya chuckle on at the same time. The best quality bout Redman is that he aint changed. He didn’t switch up his style just to get on MTV. He aint switch up his personality just to sell more records. He does it cuz he loves the shit. Red don’t give a fuck if you pick it up or throw it back in the rack to cop the new Christina Aguilera. We know he’s got money, yet he still lives in the same ole neighborhood, chills with the boys from back in the day and doesn’t invest his future in this Hollywood shit. He keeps up with the hip hop culture and everything that it entails. He aint just a hip hop artist, he’s a member of the hip hop community.
These “artists” today, aint interested in what being a hip hop artist used to mean; they don’t wanna just be known as the nigga around the way who’s got mad lyrical skills. They wanna be bigger than life, own unnecessary shit, and have that infamous thug rep. They sever their ties with the hip hop community and host exclusive parties on their private jets. They don’t know what the fuck is goin on in the streets no more, and they really don’t give a fuck.That's where they fuck up.
Hip hop was created to give us urban heads something to relate to, something that was our own. We understood the shit they were spittin in their lyrics, it was our truth, they were talking about our lives. The state of hip hop these days is saddening. It’s all about the bidness. The original game plan has been altered, added onto, and just totally changed. What was once heralded as a true art form - for us hip hop heads - now contains little to no art. Only in certain joints, can you catch a hint, a sniff, so to say, of art... if ya lucky. The sad shit is that it took us years to get hip hop to even be considered a valid art form. Finally when we get the respect, the shit blows up, goes worldwide, and us true fans get to watch it slowly slide down the proverbial drain. The minute it hit the mainstream, it was over. The respect, the old skool artists fought for, means nada; shit done changed.
You would think that with time, the shit would get better or artistically unique at least. Times change, tastes change; we can’t go back and we can’t expect every joint out the reckka stow to be a classic. What we should be able to expect is the music to stay true to form. I can’t take another song about money, hoes, and clothes. I’ma keep diggin in the crates ya’ll. I need my hip hop. Sad that, today, hip hop aint hip hop no more - it’s a watered down, club type, MTV version; and I, for one, aint feelin it.
Dat “Reality” TV
Lemme ask you a quick question…
To earn $50,000 would you:
A. eat 5 worms (still alive and movin?)
B. let 400 rats climb all over your body for 4 minutes, while you’re strapped down?
or C. be dragged on the ground by a horse at almost 40mph?
Don’t pop a brain cell. No need to rack ya brains. Only $50,000!! I wouldn’t even LOOK at 400 rats for 50G’s. These days 50G’s aint shit - if you can’t purchase at least a car and a crib…it aint shit. It’s just fuckin sad that these people go on this TV show
Fear Factor every week and do this freaky shit, not even knowing if they’re gonna win - and the grand prize is pocket change. Is ya job so bad? You riskin death to pay off your student loan? Not to mention that these bitch asses make fools of themselves in the process. Why would you want your 15 minutes of fame to include gagging on worms and dusting rat shit off ya clothes. Fuck no. I aint eating no worms, get them fuckin rats away from me, and ahem, excuse me? Dragged? By a horse? What the fuck? Holla back when you offering 5 mil or better. This reality based TV shit is irking me to the limit.
Survivor was and always will be weak as hell. I wonder how they chose the contestants this go round; I thought the U.S. population of “fake” people had already been exposed on the previous seasons. If you like to watch paint dry, watch
Big Brother, I hear it’s a real blast. The new season of the
Real World just started; this shit gets weaker every year. Where the fuck do they find these people? Most people who appear on “reality” based TV shows, got some kinda sob story to tell. “Oh, woe is me, I live in the ghetto,” or “I’m a virgin,” as if this is new shit and no one else has been in these situations before, as if their personalities are so entertaining. Yeah, okay... and I would love to know where this particular “Real World” is located, in which you live in a tight ass house - rent free, free food, free transpo, and get to wileout. Tell me where this is, b-cuz I’m bout to bounce on out there with the quickness. The
Real World? Sadly, half of em will never know what the fuck the Real World is.
Su’in In My Eye…for real
This is real shit. I know ya’ll heard bout that female in Texas who drowned all 5 of her fuckin kids. When I first heard this shit on the news, it almost had this bitter bitch in tears… "naw, naw, I had su’in in my eye..."
The only thing that gets me upset bout this, is that the bitch is gonna get off. In America, you can put a name on anything. They are trying to use the ole insanity plea for her, but the truth is, this bitch still killed her kids. Chased em round the house and drowned em one by one. You would think that by the 3rd one she'd snap the fuck out of it. She called the po po on herself - she knew what the fuck she had done. They claiming she had post-partum depression, yet her ugly ass kept fuckin and droppin seeds one after another. As if it couldn’t piss me off anymore, they show the husband on the news with his heartfelt plea, “I’m going to stand by my wife through all this.” What the fuck??? I’d be down at the jail bout to commit murder my dayum self. This bitch just killed all 5 of your seeds! Do I have to slap the sense into you muthafucka! In sync with the ole “insanity” bit, they put the fuckin bitch on suicide watch. Ahem, excuse me? Why didn’t she just nail herself in the first place - before her sick ass went into a murdering frenzy. This is one of them rare things that can literally fuck with my head. This is some sick shit. A very rare occurrence in the history of the Bitter Truth - I can’t even force myself to be bitter. *Sigh*
Just Don’t Give a Fuck
Before I bounce on out, I just wanna holla at ya’ll who sent me your comments. Be it supportive or from tha haters, I love getting mail, it instantly turns me into a shrieking little bitch, and it let’s me know you’re reading the shit.
To the Bitter fans: Thanx for all ya’ll who let me know you’re feelin the column, we on the same page, I got you.
For ya’ll who asked for their own column: Who the fuck is you? You aint me, you can’t have your own shit. Put down the pipe, get off the crack, before you find my next column is bout your ass.
To the Haters, ahhh the haters: Don’t hate cuz you aint got shit, don’t hate cuz you the fat ho wearing the halter tops and still struggling to get your doughy feet into them sandals. Try the Pam. Don’t hate cuz you an alcoholic crackhead using the public library computer on your break from GED prep classes. Don’t hate cuz you a dirty immigrant and can’t undastand the words that are comin out of my mouth, Don’t hate on me cuz you’re one of the infamous internet junkies that likes to cause drama in between your busy schedule of searching for porn and trying to hook up with 13 year old girls. Don’t hate me cuz you aint me, it aint cute. God don’t like ugly and neither do I.
The hate e-mails are nothing more than humorous, you can find me sitting here getting my chuckle on at any given moment. Just an example of the geniuses I’m dealin wif…half of em don’t include their e-mail addies, how you gonna try to talk shit and not include your contact info? That shit is just pure ignorance at the highest level. Fuckin bitches know I’ma come back with some shit. Don’t be scurred. Most of the hate e-mails don’t even state facts or shit, they basically just say “who the fuck are you?” They from the 300 plus pound internet addicts who have too much time on their hands, their free subscription to theNude teen bitches porn site has just run out. They come across my shit and forget that this is a fuckin opinion column…my opinion. Feel what I’m saying? That’s all gravy, but I don’t give a fuck. Disagree with me? I still don’t give a fuck. What ya’ll got to say now!
Aight it’s time for me to bounce, I think I’ll check my mail right quick before I leave though. A chuckle before bed, does the body good. Until next time, keep it bitter and talk much shit.
Smoochies
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