GAPE THEORY

i've just come down from the Mount of MANN where i spent quite some time meditating upon a particular issue (well it was either that explanation or come correct and say i've been neglecting the MANN blog for a good while now. the first option sounded a little better and covered up the procrastinator that i am. anyway...) i happened to be flipping through channels the other day, and stumbled upon the Dr. Phil show. what an anti MANN. anyway, what made me stop was the phrase "...looking at other women." it turned out to be a couple that was having difficulty dealing with the man's tendency to look at other women. the problem was so terrible that it lead to the couple's break up a few times. i didn't stay long enough to even get an idea of where it was going to head, because... well... it's Dr Phil, but i came away thinking about the whole scene.

we established earlier on in the blog that women gape just as much as men, it's just that women tend to be a little more discrete about it. but deeper than that, i've noticed that women are more likely to have a problem with gaping than men usually do. i'm yet to hear a man making a big deal out of his woman taking a gape. as a matter of fact, i've seen instances where the woman openly gapes and discusses her subject matter with her man and it's no scene. of course he does the same, but only because she's cool with it. if she wasn't it wouldn't even exist. but i digress. the point is, most men don't have a problem with gaping, at least i should say most M.A.N.N. don't have a problem with gaping. However, most women do, and i think through deep meditation and scientific experimentation (not really), i have found out why.

Home Work: Keep an eye open for this. if you're out with your woman, she's not going to notice or concern herself with women that she doesn't find attractive. the more attractive the woman, the more alert she becomes. an attractive girl walks by, she's going to look out to see if you're going to gape so she can nip this gaping thing in the bud. if the girl isn't attractive, she isn't going to care.

i've noticed it before, and it is true. but go ahead and check it out for yourself.

so the question is now, why is this so? with an understanding of how the power of the fobs really works, it becomes clear. you see, unlike berec, eveready, duracell or energizer, the more fobs per device (device meaning male in this case) the weaker the power becomes. the ultimate power occurs when one fobs is assigned to a male unit. think about it. if the male can access more than one fobs, then none of the two would have much control over the male as an alternative fobs is always available. this relates to the gaping issue, because a gape to a woman is in fact a recognition of competing fobs. fobs that would diminish her fobs power or worse, neutralize it all together. her natural instinct is to short-circuit the power of the competing fobs with much alacrity. this is done by creating the gaping issue/problem.

as M.A.N.N. feel free to take a gape if need be. don't be totally disrespectful, drool and scream out "oh lawd! she bess!!!" while breaking into a dutty wine in her direction. but don't be afraid to appreciate the beauty of another woman. especially in a land like trinidad & tobago where bessness abounds, you're going to see it no matter if you like it or not. look, appreciate and move on, but don't let the battle of the fobs obscure your innocent scene.

OUTTA BODY… BACK TO YUHSELF!!

What a fitting song lyric. It is the most brilliant thing I have ever heard in a modern day Soca song. “…outta body, back to yuhself now!” This Machel is a genius! How was he able to capture the essence of Carnival in that one little line? I am still in shock at its brilliance. Check it out:


OUTTA BODY: So you wnet AC5? Where you was? Well I was in VIP! Ah well enjoy muhself. Machel only perform down to de end doh. But it was good still.

BACK TO YUHSELF: The office talk ends, you’re tired, yuh still in that shitty job and yuh one ticket price more broken.



OUTTA BODY: Carnival Monday and Tuesday you put on your skimpy two-piece costume and go into the city wid all yuh sasafweh print out to the public. Yuh bamsee sweepin de ground wid winery. Yuh drinking in the hot sun because you paid top dollar for them free drinks.

BACK TO YUHSELF: When the powder clears, you go for ashes, or put on your fovourite gospel music station and sing praises to his name, while a picture of you scrubbin your ass on people is up on Triniscene.



OUTTA BODY: Everywhere you turn there’s some sponsored Carnival work out with free energy drinks at the side. Gyms packed to capacity. You probably can’t get a pair of sneakers because everybody’s tryin to fit into that little costume. KFC sales experience an all time low on the nasdaq while heads of lettuce run for dear life because salad is the meal of choice.

BACK TO YUHSELF: Ash Wednesday breakfast is a dinner special with a glass of oil… slight ice. To hell with eating healthy.



And it’s not just an individual thing. Even the Government gets into the folly:

OUTTA BODY: Let us put down a 2 day CPEP work to construct a make shift covering for our international standard football field so we can throw some fetes for the Carnival season. Well at least fuh all who have the money and the connections to buy us out. Nah man! The field wouldn’t get damaged… well not too bad. Is only expensive turf anyway.

BACK TO YUHSELF: You want serious football supporters to come and support the Soca Warriors, talking about how serious you are about football and have everything in place to run a successful World Cup campaign.

Bravo Machel. This song has to be the Road March. It too real!

A BLAST FROM THE PAST

A long time ago in a blog far far away, I made an entry on a topic that has always been an issue. Well, by virtue of what the issue is, it won't ever go away unless I make it. Recently, my mind ran on it, so I thought I would bring this post back up, and continue it as M.A.N.N. And it fits, because M.A.N.N. need to take note and deal with these kinds of things. Make some sort of stance at some time. Anyway...

ORIGINAL POST STARTS HERE

Fuh everybody that doh know, I have dread locks past the middle of my back. I’ve had them for at least 7 years (at least 10 years now.. oh how time has flied), and quite frankly I’ve grown very attached to them. So attached that every now and then I contemplate cutting them off, but just can’t bring myself to go through with it. Why would I cut them off in the first place? Well there are three major reasons:

1. It’s not just long, it’s thick too. Reaaaal thick. So long, thick hair sometimes ads up to inconvenience. It’s too much to wrap up into any style without me looking like I have some freakish, tribal, spectacle of a headpiece on my head. When I manage to get it all into a tam (a “rasta hat” nah) after a few hours, my neck is under pressure from just the weight of it. Not to mention how heavy it gets when it gets wet in the sea or in a pool. And talkin’ about getting it wet, did I mention that it takes about 45 minutes just to wash it properly? (if I’m washing it myself which is usually the case.) On top of which, it takes at least 3 hours to groom it properly. Did i mention it was inconvenient?

2. The fad. When I started growing my dreads, it wasn’t such a big fad. It was actually a very rare thing to see a young, employed guy with dreadlocks. It was a time when the papers were still carrying stories about men getting fired from bank jobs because they had ponytails. Far less for how men with dreads were being treated. It was actually a statement against the grain. I could be employed, good at what I do, and have dreadlocks. Also, I appreciated it as a form of grooming, thus my locks have always been clean and well groomed as a testament to this. All of a sudden, one in every three black men have dreadlocks. Even within the advertising industry that I work in, I used to be the lone rasta. Now in my current agency, the studio has two others that qualify. Every entertainer and their brother and sister has locks. It’s not uncommon for me to hear “Are you an entertainer or a DJ or something? You look like that.” Why? Because of the dread.

3. My two best friends always say “People would treat yuh real different if yuh cut off that ras!”. Though I believed them, I guess I just wanted to hear it myself, so I asked around. I got answers like “NAH!! Doh cut dat! Dat ras IS you!” “But what yuh will be without your ras?” “If yuh cut it, what ah will call yuh?”. So ahmmm… did this ras consume my entire persona while I was asleep or something? When did this become “The Dreadlocks Show with guest appearance by Quincy”? Apparently the locks grown because of my personality have not only embodied my personality but they have taken it over. Quite frankly, I want my personality back!

At the same time, I’ve been through a lot with these things on my head. That’s why I’m attached. The experiences are many. They’ve helped me to see people in many different lights. They get straight to the point, usually telling people right off the bat where I’m coming from. Most importantly, they represent a certain period in my life when I discovered a different kind of freedom. A true freedom that spread itself over my entire being. It’s a whole package.

And so, my conundrum is, should I cut them and begin a new chapter entitled "Life After Dread"? Or is this chapter in need of a more spectacular conclusion?

ORIGINAL POST ENDS HERE

Well!! Since that time, things haven't changed one bit. Locks still there, perceptions still there. the soca Rastas still there. Mirror image. It's still normal for me to go out with friends, (yeah... de same to breddrins from original article) and have someone approach me first. Even if the person really wants to get to one of them. It's the usual point of entry. I was still torn, and looking for a fitting conclusion. Thing is, this vow to rebel against the wrongs that people make right, and denounce the look of the conventional dude means too much to me to allow some punks with their locks smothered in zen to make me denounce my vow.

So i decided to take action, and found a solution that works. I'm keeping it covered. Somehow, keeping it in a tam all day isn't that difficult anymore. Maybe my neck is buff now, so the weight is no biggy. Whatever, I'm hatting it up all the way. It keeps away the "Can i touch your ras?" situations. It also gives it an extra edge on the rebellion tip as i no longer resemble the willie bouncers. It will also come in handy with regards to another issue I have a problem with, as I do not intend to intentionally leave home without my hair covered, and some places have a hat rule. "No Mr. Bouncer sir, I will not take off my hat to get into your establishment."

And so, I've come to a better conclusion in my opinion. Q Under Cover.
Let's see how it goes.

THE MYTH OF THE FALL-DOWN CHICKEN

Well there’s this myth that I stumbled across many years ago. It’s not proven, so don’t take my word for it, but I think it’s true. It’s just so damn logical! Anyway, the myth is this. When a piece of chicken or some other food item falls on the floor at a fast food outlet, the already disgruntled employee would pick it up and put it in a special pile. When an annoying or disrespectful customer comes in and places an order in a manner that further stresses the employee out, they would either signal or pick out themselves an item from the “fall-down pile” and put it in the customer’s order. That’s the myth of the fall-down chicken. Sounds far fetched right? Well not with the quality of fast food outlets and fast food workers we cultivate in Trinidad & Tobago. And quite frankly, I’ve seen it at fast food outlets outside of the island too. With the attitudes some cashiers have, it’s quite easy to see that happening. Hey! I think somebody’s eating a piece of fall-down chicken right now.

Honestly, there are many people who deserve to eat two pieces of fall-down chicken, a large portion of fall-down fries, regular cole slaw (slaw is safe from fall-downism) and a fall-down biscuit. The people who wait until they get to the front of the line to read the menu board and decide what they’d like to have. Or the people that order as though they’re sending a death threat to the host. But the calm, cool, collective M.A.N.N. should not be included in this league of fall-down eaters, though often times they do. How does this happen you may ask? Read the title of this blog site, and then think about it for a while. It should hit you in a second.

This one is for the M.A.N.N. and dem. How many times have you gone to some spot, and the woman you’re with decides that she has a problem with the venue or the service of one particular attendant or she’s just having a generally bad day, so she puts on this really grumpy face with an equally grumpy attitude and deals with everybody in like manner? Even the person in charge of bringing you stuff that’s going to enter your body via your mouth. You look at the person and you know that if there was something they could have done to get even, they’d do it. That’s why the fall-down pile is there buddy. Don’t think you haven’t already paid the price. See that little noise gate that blocks hasty remarks and comments? The vast majority of women had theirs surgically removed. They’re liable to say or do anything to anybody. The dangerous thing about that is that the attendant will not single out their punishment. They will unleash it on the whole party. Not saying something is as good as saying something just as bad in a situation like that. You WILL be fall-down chickenerized.

Now once again, allow me to stress on this. If you are a woman who does not react hastily in these situations, or knows how to tactfully rectify such situations, this post has nothing to do with you at all. Also, I understand that some men are guilty of the same. However, the vast majority of times, it starts at the woman. And most times, the guy just sits there and says nothing. That’s because once again, the fobs gets his tongue. He’s thinking “If I say something, I may not get to eat the fobs later on tonight. Maybe I’ll just risk it and eat whatever this pissed off chick brings for us.” Nah fellas. Come out of dat!

Rid yourself of fall-down chicken. In situations such these, you need to hop in. Call it out as soon as you see it happening. This could make the difference between your chicken being spicy crispy and your chicken being spicy crispier. Make sure that you at least draw the line so they know you don’t want to have the fall-down chicken. True, it may cause that particular fobs to delete itself off your late night menu, but there is also another myth that seems even more logical than this… The Myth of the Next Fobs. And it’s simply that the best fobs is the next fobs.

All Hail Man…

A CUTTING ISSUE

Now MANN knows no colour or class. You need nothing to be a MANN for you were born a MANN, and you deserve the right to live like any other MANN. (Thanks for the line Barrington Levy.) So the following observation, though based on race, is less about race and more about standards that are imposed on MANN-kind.

For those of you who don’t know, when some men of African decent shave, they get razor bumps in the shaved areas. Actually, the stats claim that about 30 to 40% of us suffer from the affliction. Contrary to some schools of thought, razor bumps don’t occur due to dirty razors and things like that. What happens is that our thick, curly hair gets really sharp when cut at a particular angle, and when it grows, it curls back and penetrates the skin. Or, if it is cut too short, it curls and goes back into the same pore it grew out from, thus becoming ingrown. Either one leads to the painful little bump… razor bump. (Thanks for the line James Bond) And men have been trying many solutions for it.

There’s Magic shaving powder. Besides the fart of an elephant that has recently consumed a dozen rotten eggs, toast, and a glass of rubbish juice freshly squeezed from a garbage truck, nothing smells stinker. You mix this shit with water and make a thick paste. Apply it to the area you’d like to shave. Sit, stand or lie around for about 5 minutes or so. Then wipe it off with a damp cloth. Shaves you clean, but you smell like shit! Even after you bathe and apply aftershave and stuff, you still smell like you’re wearing Snow White & The Six Dwarfs Because One Died byyyyyyyy Mennen. Even worse than that, this shit discolours your skin. After a little while of using it, maybe a month or so, the area you apply it to starts getting dark. Which is great if you’re going for the hardened criminal look. And still, like many other treatments, after prolonged use, your skin seems to get accustomed to it and bumps pop right back up singing “…guess who’s back… Shady’s back…” (Thanks for the line Eminem)

There’s also Tend Skin. Well, there’s this one incident involving a friend of mine, his freshly shaven face, a splash of Tend Skin and a stinging sensation followed by a blistering, painful skin pealing experience. But we won’t count that one, because the directions clearly state that you’re supposed to put the liquid on a soft cloth or cotton and pat your afflicted areas with it. Not splash some in your hand and wipe it onto your face. Anyway, even when done the right way, it is one of the most painful of the many unnecessary experiences a man would have during his existence. It stings! It burns us! (Thanks for the line Smegol) When you apply this shit, the bumps turn white, and they feel very irritated. It’s really unsightly to go out with, and kinda uncomfortable anyway. It’s a kinda just-lie-down-and-sleep kinda stingy feeling. Thing is, this shit, unlike Magic, never really gave me any relief. It got rid of some bumps, but by the time my face recovered from its sore, tender state, the bumps were back. So is pain, no gain.

Then there’s Nixoderm and Bumpstopper and other creams and gels that you can buy to rub on the bumps. Sometimes they work… sometimes they don’t and most times, if they do work, your skin gets accustomed and they stop working after a while.

Long and short of the matter… Men of African decent will most likely get razor bumps when they shave. So hear this! (Thanks for the line random old school dancehall track) Why do we continue to do it? Any rational thinking person would flee from things that don’t agree with them. For example, if I put on a silver chain, and I get a rash from it, I’ll take it off. Then I may buy a silver ring. If I put it on and get a rash on my finger, then I’ll take that off too. And further to that, I’ll never buy silver again. When people ask why, I’ll say, “Maaaaaan… silver doesn’t agree with me. I get bumps man.” Then they’ll say “OK cool.” Same thing with clothes made from materials to which one may be allergic. Or foods to which one may be allergic. “You want some shrimp?” “NAH!! Dat shit makes my throat swell up!” (Thanks for the line good breddrin of mine) You’ll put them down never to deal with them again. Not shaving. We have been brainwashed into the thinking that one MUST have a clean face in order to “look good”. So unlike what we do in the case of all other allergic reactions, we shave week after week and keep spending time and money on rubbing these useless products on our faces. The end result, we end up 100% more uncomfortable, 100% more gross looking (because them bumps on yuh face don’t make such a lovely portrait in case you didn’t know.) and 100% more brainwashed than the last time.

What am I saying? Simple. We keep putting ourselves through serious torture just to own the title of “well-groomed”. But well groomed in whose eyes? Who is to say that having a bushy beard is not proper grooming? Or an afro, or dreadlocks? Why is well-groomed so often linked to a clean shaven dude with a low haircut if any hair at all? Why do we keep going all out for those stupid standards. If for some strange reason you enjoy inflicting pain on yourself, or you think some stink, repulsive, puss filled bumps on your face is a small price to pay for saying you’re “well groomed”, then go on and dig yourself up. But if you really believe, that there are many ways to groom oneself, and the most comfortable and least painful way is the sensible one to select, then don’t take on the “standards”. Be MANNly and do it your way (Thanks for the line Burger King)

All hail MANN. (Thanks for the… oh wait… daz my line!)

TO THE LEFT… TO THE LEFT

Have you heard this song? Beyonce sang it. I believe the name is “Irreplaceable”. I think it’s a bag of filth. It’s about her putting out her man and directing him to a box with all his things, which happens to be situated… well… to the left. The left of what? I don’t know, but that’s another song waiting to happen I guess. Anyway, girls love this song. The first time I heard it, I said to myself that this is going to be another one of them anthems that girls are going to live by. YES!! Live by! They’re going to learn all the words and gather in circles on the Zen dance floor singing it to each other, while the plastic men around nod their heads and try to look cool behind a pair of ridiculously large shades that obscure not only their vision, but their mental capacity to break the norm and learn something. Here are the problems I have with the message sent in that song:

“I can have another you in a minute,
In fact, he’ll be here in a minute.”
Now… This means that you’re a sly, vindictive bitch. She sees something she doesn’t like, so she goes about establishing other relationships. And that’s what she did, because for the other guy to be able to be there in a minute, she had to be workin' on it from before. AND she would have had to call him over before she even told the current BF to take it to the left. If you think your man is being unfaithful or coming up short in some area, the way to address it is not to proceed to do your dirt. As a mature and rational thinking individual, you need to confront the situation, discuss it and come to some conclusion. Either you stay in it and move on, or you get out of it and move on. You don’t stay in it and deal dirt on the outside. That is just as bad as what he’s doing. But such is the nature of the “modern woman”.

Another thing about this statement is the thing that really baffles me about women. Now granted she was probably dealing with a little boy who doesn’t have the wisdom to understand that one needs to treat ones queen like a queen. And maybe he was a louse too, because if all his shit could fit in a box so insignificant that she has to direct him to the left to find it, then he ain’t got shit. But why would she want another him? Women always do that. Hunt for the same animal every time. So now she’s going to get another dude, just like the last one, bring him into her house, bling him out, hand him the keys to some tricked out ride then sit and wait until he hits the town branded out from head to toe, in a nice whip, and some other chick in the front seat. Dotish!!

Next, there are the things that the song implies. Now Beyonce is singing from the standpoint of the “independent woman”, handling stories and doin' it big. Successful. And that’s cool. Personally, I want my queen to be doing it large. But why is it that women always paint the success picture with them raking in the paper, while the man is a scrub just driving her car, eating her food, wearing clothes she bought for him and spending her money on some other skeg? Why can’t the independent woman scene be created with a prosperous brother? Like dude is being unfaithful and such, so she tells him to take his BMW X5, his Bentley and his Aston Martin, fill them with every last one of his Italian suits, all his Jordans, Timberlands, and other kicks, that heap of casual gear and leave! And she already called an armored truck to come for his jewels. Never! The man always has to be some struggling, wanna be thug, not worth a dingle berry from an ant’s ass. Every time! And she takes back everything she gave him, which is all but a wife beater a no frills pair of jeans that was on sale and a beat up pair of Air Force ones. What de hell was she doing with that looser anyway??

Speaking of which, it struck me that if a man was singing that song, people would have been much more disturbed. Even the justice system is set up to protect women from this. A man could bling a woman out from head to toe, spoil her with the best and get her accustomed to the high life, take care of everything. If he gets an idea that she’s being unfaithful, let’s say that she was driving about in the front seat of a man’s car, and he decides to tell her to scram, HE MAY VERY WELL HAVE TO GIVE HER HALF OF HIS SHIT! Even in common law relationships. HALF!! You not tellin’ a woman “To the left to the left!” Iz you crazy?? And the first dude to write a song just like that would find his name on all sorts of women’s rights communication. Unfortunately, it seems as though men don’t have rights. Well most of them anyway.

All in all, music is life and life is music, so we should listen carefully to what these songs say and try to decipher the messages that they send. In fact, I’ll pull out some other tunes that as M.A.N.N. I can’t support. Songs like Beenie Man’s “Nuff Gyal”. No brother. Don’t promote promiscuity and “Some man fi have ONE gyal, not gyal in a bundle!” Neo’s “When You’re Mad” “…When you put your hands on me, I wanna kiss you.” No brother! “When you put your hands on me, I will break up with you.” That is domestic violence. And before I kill yuh, we better part ways. And a few more. That’s a whole different post. Coming soon…

All hail M.A.N.N.

SEXUAL HEALING

I’ve noticed over the years that when it comes to sex, women usually function on two extremes. On one hand, they play down sexuality and make it into an insignificant thing that might only happen on certain occasions… as they have the time. (or when no excuse would actually work.) On the other hand, they praise and value this thing called fobs so high above precious gems that you have to pay for it with your life. Let me explain.

Starting point. MANN is another word for sex. Straight up! All the analogies and scientific sounding statistics about men thinking about sex every x amount of seconds is totally true. That one “sensitive” guy that says “Oh, not me. I think there are many things in a relationship that are more important than sex! I hardly ever think about it at all!” is clearly a liar, should not be trusted and should not be allowed within ten feet of an infant or an unattended human orifice. You see, a MANN really wants to be having sex every time he gets the urge, which is quite often during the course of the day. But he’ll settle for once a day when it’s convenient to all. A MANN also wants to have as many sexual partners as he can, because… well… who doesn’t like variety? But he’ll settle for 1 partner, with whom he shares a special bond, and he’ll keep his focus on that. Now that right there is a lot of compromising if yuh ask me. It is!

Yet still, here comes the woman. And she’s rationing the pegs as if she’s a gas attendant in a gas shortage. “Noooo! Not now! I‚m tired! “Uh uuuuuuh! I've got a headache! MOVE!” Now the MANN is confused because he’s thinking to himself at this point: “Yeah well, take a Panadol and let’s get ready to rumble. I'll wait for it to kick in!” or “Well if you’re tired, just lay there. Hell! I’ll do all the work.” But most men won’t say anything because they’re afraid that they’ll look insensitive and overly horny. (which in fact they are. Horny that is!) You’ll never hear a MANN saying anything like that. If a woman wants to have sex with a MANN and he’s got a headache, his statement would be: “Sure! Maybe shooting out some of that pearl jam might help ease
this headache up.”

When a MANN is forced to keep these urges bottled up, the explosion is a hell of a thing. The Port of Span bombings have nothing on that! That’s the beginning of a troubled relationship right there. You have this guy surrounded by lots of potential feeds, all offering a warm, soft, moist and sometimes fluffy (according to how they cut it) place to de-stress and ease that load. Taking it into his own hands won’t hold out for long, and if he’s like those of us who were relieved of that little clipping of natural protection, taking it into his own hands is a somewhat uncomfortable situation without the right… ahmmm… dressings. But I digress. It’s easy to see how this can damage a relationship though. Here comes the unfaithfulness, the neglect, the lack of affection and so on and so on. Why? Because the one thing a MANN looks forward to when the sun rises is lacking. His day has no high point, his joke has no punch line and his song has no climax. (pun intended)

Now this isn’t all because men are just horny. The other extreme that women go to fosters this whole scene. I was talking to a female friend of mine the other day, and she was saying that women treat the fobs like it’s a valuable prize, deserving only of men that give their all for it. Not her exact words, but close enough. She referenced some old tune where the guy was talking about loving up with the lady, and she was basically saying ok, but not until they get married. She reasoned that from way back when, women have held the fobs as the prize for “good behavior”. “If we get married, I’ll let you hit this.” Not necessarily because they’re saving themselves for marriage, but they’re using it as an incentive for the man to nail it down. (no pun intended) Problems again! For one, not all men are willing to go through all them tests just to get some, so they opt to hang around while they feed outside the relationship. Also, some men would say “TO HELL WITH IT! LET’S GET MARRIED!” obviously drunk off the fobs juice. The result is a relationship based on pegs, which will not work for sure!

In any case, we’ve figured it out. Women front as if sex is not as important to them, but we know differently. Nature taught us. Simple scenario. The penis and the fobs are like the hand and the ear. If the ear is scratching, the hand could extend a finger and help the ear. When the hand is scratching, it can scratch itself. The ear can’t scratch itself. So if anybody is qualified to make the call when it comes to sex, it should be the finger… I mean, the MANN. And we don’t, because we understand that to make a relationship work, sex must be in ample supply. So as MANN, do your part to keep the flame burning bright. Continue to support porn, both online, on DVD and printed. Support your local whorehouse. You don’t have to buy the fobs, but have a beer or two from time to time. Think about the others who can’t readily get some, or prefer to get some without the hassle. And don’t be afraid to say “I AM MANN, AND I LIVE FOR SEX.”

All hail MANN!

DOLLARS AND SENSE

A while back, a friend of mine worked out a piece of logic. It was many things. Funny. Clever. Factual. Different. Realistic. A bit harsh too, but hearing it did make sense, and I think any MANN could appreciate the logic of the thought. Women of course would find it totally disgusting and use it as more evidence in their quest to prove that all men are dogs. But according to Leon Phelps, “…yeah, and that’s cool.” So I decided to share the idea with you guys, so we could all see if the equation really adds up. Check it out.

Now the equation is simply this:
In terms of effort,
Buying fobs < Dating fobs. Thus, buying fobs = efficient

With approximate figures, we can work out if this formula is really true.

So you’re out looking to get you some poonash the “normal” way. It’s hardly ever a walk up, grab and go situation. Let’s not factor in costs for the phone call or clothes or any of the stuff that comes before the actual date. Skip right through to turning the key in the ignition. That is if you’re not a taxi jockey. In that case you can multiply the final cost by 2, as expensive as transportation is these days. Anyway:
Movietowne tickets. $60
Now lets get 2 hotdogs, a large popcorn, some chips and 2 drinks. $60.
Great. Movie movie movie… snack snack. Over. After the party is the after party. So you head across to TGI for some drinks and to set the mode for that “seal the deal” talk.
2 ultimate mudslides, 4 Guinness, a portion of buffalo wings and an order of chicken fajita nachos later, you’re doing a $375 bill. Plus a $40 tip, because the TGI staffers always handle a brother right up. Must bless them back. You get up and leave. Hop into the car. Put on the a/c on ultra low because girls feel cold very easily, switch on the radio and proceed to leave the venue. Now the task at hand is to organize a feed for yourself before getting to the default destination. So this is where you start dropping all the wise lines and smart comments to seal that deal. And you won’t know for sure until there’s a commitment somewhere along the line. You’re just holding out for that commitment. In other words, you’re doing about $535 and you’re not sure if you’re going to score or not. And it’s very possible that you may not score, especially if you’re on a first date.

Instead of doing a whole new scenario, which will have basically the same format, lets just continue from where we stopped. Let’s say you dropped the killer one liner, and it worked, so you did get lucky, you’re going to have some more to pay. Maybe not financially, but physically and mentally. BOOM! It’s on. Lovin’ like rain with nowhere to shelter. And 45 minutes after, it’s all over. (What yuh really doin’ brushin’ fuh 2 and 3 hours? But that is another post soon to come). WARNING: You’re not going to be able to go to sleep, or get up and watch TV, or play a game of Grand Theft Auto. You’re going to have to lie there and cuddle. Not that cuddling is bad, but it’s just not what men want to do. At least, not for the length of time women want to do it for. Get into that spoon position at around 12:30, and before you know it, the sun is coming up, the sheets under you are moist with your perspiration, your back hurts, your leg is cramped and you still can’t move as yet. And if you don’t do it, you’ll never see that fobs again! But it’s not over yet. Nah! Can’t get off that easy. Your stirring is going to wake her up at some point, and she’ll get up and see you awake. Do you know what that means? Yip! It’s time to talk. And thus the spending continues.

That’s one scenario.

On the other hand, you can jump in your car, or taxi it down to the south land and pull up at any house of ill repute. Let’s be generous here. Let’s budget $50 gas for a return fare. Walk into said den, buy a Guinness. $10. Browse, browse, browse…. AH HA! YOU! DOWNSTAIRS! $250. You walk in, do the deed and walk back out. Free to go. And that’s basically it. It would set you back about $310.

As for the mental part, you’ll worry for a while if anybody’s going to find out, but after closing your car door and driving off, that’s more or less gone. Then you may worry about some STD, but halfway through the drive home, you’ll will yourself that nothing’s going to happen to you, and that’s it. DONE! Free to get home and sleep.

So all in all, purchasing the fobs is more economical, convenient, less time consuming and less physically and emotionally taxing. Not that I would do it, or that you should, but… it is.

All hail MANN!

MY CIVIC DUTY

Again, this particular post is not about MANN and woman relations. But, as I have a forum that people check quite often, I should use it to talk about things that I believe are important outside of relationship stuff. And we have the relationship thing on lock anyway, so it’s ok to stray a little sometimes. But as I always say, a MANN out here should be conscious too. So here’s some stuff to think about.

Reality TV has managed to confirm all the accusations the rest of the world has placed on America. There’s a reality show based on almost every American bad habit. From immoral behavior to dysfunctional families to idolization of celebrities to the plague of obesity… you name it and you can see it somewhere between channel 2 and channel 99. (I’ve never seen anything on the Arts Channel 99 since it came on. Can I swap that for an x-rated channel or something?) Now it’s not that ALL the shows are bad. As a matter of fact, some of them are kinda good. But as the voyeuristic pleasures they are, they highlight a lot of what’s wrong with the American society today.

However, one of the truths that these shows highlight is that Americans are masters when it comes to making a product and marketing it. They’re the best! Can’t beat them at it. Thus far, the only product that I’ve seen them fail miserably at in recent times is Rihanna. And even that was still more lucrative than a lot of local entertainers’ careers will ever be. Anyway, they are winners in this realm. Take Celebrity Fit Club for example. Celebrities coming together to loose weight. The noteworthy thing is that the presentation is fantastic. The sets are elaborate. They have dramatic weigh ins designed to hold interest. But most importantly, they have qualified people putting stuff together. The panel that runs the show is a group of well-spoken, qualified professionals. And they’re really good. A Harvard trained dietician and author of a best selling diet book, a doctor of psychology, and an active physical trainer for the US Military. Listen to them, and you can’t go wrong. In other words, the show actually makes sense. Even looking at it can give you serious tips that you can apply to your own life. And that’s good.

Even Flavor of Love reveals truths. Flava Flav has a room full of girls COMPETING to be his main squeeze. Going out on dates with random girls from the bunch. Kissing on them. Having them meet him in his bedroom for little early morning make out sessions. Falling to sleep between two girls. Giving them tests to see if they can really be down for Flav. It’s crazy, but the truth it reveals is that pimping is big in America, and American girls seem to love pimps. He’s turnin’ dem tricks out! And they have Flava Flav, who is as pimpin’ as pimpin gets, baring Bishop Magic Don Juan, who made an appearance on the show anyway.

It’s the same here in sweet T&T. We’ve taken the dive into the reality TV realm with offerings such as Synergy Top Model. Once again, the realities of society are being showcased. The first reality is the fact that the really beautiful girls in the country are not the front liners. The half way there girls always rush for the spotlight, and start believing their own hype as if they’re really all that and a bag of chips. You hardly ever see the truly beautiful girls in the spotlight going up for some competition or the other, and the Top Model show is no different. But that’s the minor truth. The major truth is the lack of professional input. We have people like Paul Richards, a radio show host and Program Director (and I use these titles loosely) telling people what it takes to be a Super Model and what is expected of Super Models. Real half way designers and almost there photographers getting a half hour of fame because they flutter in the right circles. Which wouldn’t be bad if they weren’t having a hands-on relationship with the future of our fashion industry. (whether or not we actually have one.) What does the public take away from this reality? What do the contestants take away from this reality? What good does this do for us? Nothing. Nothing but introduce us to the realization of the reality that when yuh in with the in crowd, you don’t need talent or qualifications. YOU’RE IN! And who cares if you give the youth some dumb advice right? Yeaaaaah!! You’ll be cool. Just make it sound as though you know what’s going on, and make you’re input sound like something. And it never hurts to throw in a direct mention to moving forward, progress, vision 20/20, and other words and phrases that sound like you care.

Meanwhile, our youth grow up uninformed and unprepared for anything at all. Then we wonder why there so many idiots in the country that we could totally fix our own economy if we find a market that needs assholes and sell them by the barrel like oil. People, stop accepting mediocrity. Stop accepting half –way done presentations. Demand the best. Demand quality. Reject bullshit.

All hail MANN.

TRANSLATION CLASSES

Now hear dis. Women speak English, but their words don’t mean the same as regular English words. The problem is if you don’t understand these words, you could find yourself in all sorts of trouble. So, being the efficient resource De Mann Blog is, from time to time, we’ll translate some of these words and phrases for you, so you can understand the strange beasts.

Lesson 1:

She says: I have a headache.
She means: I’m avoiding sex without actually saying the word sex…
because that’s what we don’t want to have right now.

She says: You really like them jeans?
She means: No way in hell you goin out with me in them things!

She says: We should see other people
She means: I’ve been seeing… well… other people. Snooping’s getting difficult.

She says: Ahmmm… you doing anything right now?
She means: I don’t care about your stupid basketball game, get ready to go somewhere
or do something for me!

She says: Aye! Valentines reach so quick? Just a few days away.
She means: If you don’t buy me flowers and send them to my office,
I will hunt and kill you!

She says: I hate you!
She means: You don’t suck (take some time to ponder this one)

She says: How old do I look?
She means: I’m either too young or too old to just come out and tell you, so answer smart! Lies are permitted.

She says: Look… we need to talk
She means: Man, this is the end,
and I don’t know what you’re going to say or do to change that!

She says: Later bitches!
She means: Bye girls, see you in work on Monday

She says: What did you say?
She means: Now I know you didn’t just call me and my girls bitches?!!
Don’t you know I will cut you?


She says: Let me just see that remote please?
She means: I’m going to put the TV on Lifetime. Resistance is futile.

End of lesson 1.

WHO GIVES A HOOT?

Straight to the point. HOOTERS IS NO PLACE FOR A MANN TO BE. Just the name alone would tell you that. Check it out:
Kicker: Aye boy. Wuh we go do boy?
Q: I doh know. Leh we go and lime somewhere.
Kicker: Yuh wanna go by Breasts or wuh?
Q: Aight cool. Leh we go Breasts. Call Fish an tell him meet we by Breasts nah.

Why would anybody name a place breasts? Could only be for one reason. To harness the power of the fobs, and use it for financial gain. That is the only logical reason. Hooters is the personification of the power of the fobs. They’ve created this machine that is fueled by fobs juice, and designed to suck cash out of the pocket of male victims that stumble in. Tight white vests that leave little to the imagination. Short orange pants that expose up to the black of the ass. Sure shot tools for disarming a fella’s mind.

So a group of fellas walk in and find a table. This giggly girl pulls up to the table all scantily clad. “Hi guys, welcome to Hooters. I’m so so so, and I’ll be serving you. Are you ready to place your order?” At this point, a fella is ready to say “Yes. I’d like to have the blow job with a side of fondle please?” And guy number two is ready to chime in with “I’ll have what he’s having!” Unfortunately, it’s not exactly a whore house, so they’re relegated to ordering a few screwdrivers, a portion of greasy wings and finding out if they have a catch of the day. But it’s close to a guilty pleasure, because the can gape at the semi naked girl while they order that regular stuff. THAT’S THE CATCH! (not the catch of the day, but a catch none the less.) They can see it all over the room, but to really enjoy it up close and personal, they have to call her over. And you can’t do that if you’re not adding to her service charge. In other words, you’re paying to gape.

And the girls don’t help. Understanding that they are the fuel for this fire, they intend to make it hot by posing as your friends. See them on a table with two middle aged men playing cards. CARDS! And the guys are really excited. So excited that they don’t realize they’ve racked up a cool $900 on a few overpriced drinks. Sad… so sad.

Please! If I’m out liming with my breddrin, I don’t need any encouragement to buy drinks. That’s what I’m here for. You don’t need to stick around and make me feel overly comfortable, or show me a little piece of your ass, or let me peep down your vest a little bit to make me spend. Just drop the menu and roll out. I’ll hail yuh when I need some fries. But then again, if I go to Hooters, I’m asking for it! So as MANN, I try my best to stay away from there. I had to endure it a few times for meetings, because apparently that’s a haven for “businessmen”. But luckily, I am skilled in using the Jedi MANN trick, which you can use too. LOOK AWAY FROM THE BOOBS!! Focus on your drink. Never look at the bazookas head on, and you’d be ok.

All hail MANN!

YUH BETTER STAY PON PAUSE

Once again fellas, the women have one up on us. This time, it’s the way we handle that whole unfaithful situation. Now, some posts earlier, I made a comparison between the male ego and the female ego. In reality, the female ego could actually be bigger if you really think about it. However, the major difference is, even though it may be huge, women don’t get blinded by their egos. They know when to take it on and when to ignore it. Hell, it might even go on and off repeatedly during one situation. At the end of the day, they just know how to work it.

So I was looking at this movie last night, can’t remember the name (and if by the time I’m finished writing this I don’t get it, this is all you’re getting about that). It was about three ladies doing this experiment to prove that they can seduce any man and make them have sex in a matter of hours. Staring Bill Bellamy as the guy. Also staring as the girls Vivica Fox, Carmen Electra and Stacy Dash. Before the actual plot started, they did a little character profile on Vivica Fox’s character by relating a situation that she was in. She had suspected that her man was cheating on her, and she confronted him with it. Her man did the usual “No! I’m telling you, you’re the only woman in my life.” So she took it to end the conversation, but then proceeded to snoop around the house looking for hard evidence. BOOM! Found some paper in his pocket. Seemed like a name, or meeting arrangements or something, she just said “Gotcha!”. Now here’s where it’s at. She went and sat in the lobby of the hotel where her man was about to get his cheat on. Hoodie… big shades… stuff to conceal her identity. Her dude walks in. He gets his key and heads to his room. She goes to the front desk and bribes the attendant to offer up his room number and keys to the room. Then she goes to the door and yells “Room service!” Of course her dude says “Just leave it!” and she opens the door and strolls in. Catches him in bed in his draws and the trick in the bathroom. Only that the trick turned out to be a guy. Her dude turned out to be a nasty dude. But he got caught with his pants down, and he couldn’t say anything of substance.

See now, men go about this totally different. Men keep letting this ego guide them through all sorts of dog shit. A man in that situation would have handled that scene a lot more differently. After the first confrontation, when his woman says to him “You’re the only man in my life!” He’d feel comforted that he’s the man, and he’d let her off the hook. The ego has been stroked… until something else happens that is.

Now if you’re lucky, you might get a guy that would do the same as Vivika, and just take the talk and continue on, just with eyes wide open. But he’ll still spoil it, because as soon as he finds the piece of paper, or some information is accessed, he’ll be kicking down the door with it in his hand screaming “BITCH!!! WHAT IS THIS?!!” Thus creating an excellent opportunity for his girl (who would be sharp, because girls are sharp) to say “Oh! That is a guy I have to call to set up a meeting about (insert something semi workable, but unclear here). We were thinking about meeting at Hotel California because the bar there is very quiet. We’d be able to talk business. Thanks honey, I thought I lost this.” Homey would be like. “Hmmm… Ok. Look, I’m sorry that I blew up like that. Blah blah blah…”

Now if we’re really lucky, dude might take the info and go to the hotel to wait on her. But he’d still mess it up. As soon as she walks in, he’d run up to her “AH HA!! WHAT YOU DOIN HERE?!!” Ample opportunity for her to say “No! The question is what are YOU doing here?!! I have a meeting with so so so, such and such, by stitch multiplied by pi r squared, and he should be here any minute now so stop embarrassing me!” Dude would be like “Hmmm… Ok. Look, I’m sorry that I blew up like that. Blah blah blah…” And once again she’s home free!

Fellas, yuh have to wait it out. Avoid the long talk and reasoning and justification. Think about it? If you’re heading to the gas chamber, and there’s something you could say to get you out of it, won’t you say it? Sure you would! And that simply means that that statement is a desperation cry. So just cut out the statements all together. As a matter of fact, relax. Sure there’s the possibility that she might be thinking she’s fooling you, and that big silly ego of yours is complaining that you’re looking like a total idiot that’s believing that crap. But think about how good it would be at the end when you drop the bomb at a point where nothing can be said to get out of the situation. That’s where it’s at. And you don’t need to go snooping about and doing anything of the sort. Things just have a way of surfacing. Nothing stays hidden forever. And things come to light a lot faster than you may think. In other words, you actually don’t have to do anything. You don’t even have to present the information that surfaced. You know what’s going on, she knows what’s going on… nothing needs to be said. Just bounce.

So as MANN, relax. Let things play out. As a good friend of mine always says to me “The time will come when you would know exactly what has to be done, and you’ll do it.”

All hail MANN!

A GYAL HAD TO HAVE COME UP WITH THAT

I was looking at a movie last night. My Super Ex Girlfriend. Maybe you’ve seen it. In it, there was a scene in which the star character gave his then Super girlfriend some red roses. She smells them and tells him that red roses mean love and the yellow ones mean friendship. She was glad that he gave her the red ones. I thought about it a little. Why boy? Why de red ones mean love and the yellow ones mean friendship? Why all ah dem couldn’t mean love? Well, let me tell you why.

Though research may say differently, the real reason that rule was made up is so that men would have no reason not to give girls flowers. To ensure that flowers can always be given, they created categories of flowers so we can feel comfortable giving them an arrangement from time to time. For example, on Valentines Day, a boyfriend will give his girlfriend an arrangement of red roses. Understandable. But remember, Valentines Day is not really about love. It’s really an inter-office flowers competition, and one arrangement won’t cut it. So with the yellow roses being friend roses, that guy from the office who is “just a friend” (we’ll deal with that in another paragraph) could buy a yellow rose arrangement and give it to her to compound her total.

Also, it goes a long way in ensuring that more people end up with at least one. Remember, girls stick together, so though they want to have more than the other girl, they don’t want the other girl to have none.

Now back to our friend from paragraph number two. That girl with the boyfriend and the “friend” at the office. Now men know very well how we all think. YES we can be friends with a girl. As a matter of fact, we are quite capable of treating a girl like one of the boys. But there’s a big difference between treating a girl like a friend and treating a girl like… well… a girl. A potential source of loving. It’s easy to figure it out. A man will hardly ever buy something for his breddrin on a specific occasion like a birthday etc. See, we’re always buying stuff for each other. Whoever is closest to the cashier buys. So there’s no real need to say “Here’s something for you to let you know I care.” We’d quicker use that opportunity to buy something for a friend that the whole crew wants and would enjoy. In other words, a guy buying a gift for a girl is a guy leaving one kinda out there on the table. Not an all out move, but more like a passive stay in the game. And women have no problem with this. Usually these guys are efficient sources of transportation, physical assistance, courier services and even financial support in some cases. The yellow roses efficiently facilitate these bonds. The guy could buy the girl the yellow flowers and she could accept them under the friend vibes. Then she could carry them home and show them to her boyfriend and say “My friend gave me these.” And he would think to himself “Well it’s ok. They’re friend roses. Nothing doin’ there.” Hmmm!

So all in all, as MANN, doh support de yellow roses. A rose is just that… a rose. Doh let dem trick yuh into thinking that them yellow roses just cool nah!

All hail MANN!!

THE REAL WORLD

This is not the story of seven strangers picked to live in a house and have their lives taped and pimped out for television ratings. This is a call for women to wake up and value the things that are important. Stop getting caught up and start getting real. Double N women have these unrealistic ideals that they expect men to live up to with regards to relationships, and if they don’t, then they’re unhappy, and they’d be only too glad to cry you down to their friends, and practically anybody else they could get to side with them and curse your name. As MANN, you have to understand that and not let it phase you. Keep your focus, or else you’ll be the one really losing out. Let me explain.

Now stop me if you’ve heard this one. “You don’t buy me things anymore!” No one stopped me, so I guess this one is new to everybody. Oh, I forgot, it’s a blog. You actually won’t know anything until I publish it. Anyway, I’m this far in so I might as well finish. That statement is USUALLY made by a delusional woman in a serious relationship that’s married to or living with her man. There in lies the problem. Trivial gift giving is for youngsters looking for ways to show their love. You two are living at home with your parents, or even in two separate places, then there’s enough reason, merit and most importantly CASH to buy the little things that say I love you. But when the relationship steps up to “the next level”, these gifts need to evolve right along with it.

On the next level, men should be giving the kind of gifts that really keep on giving. Like a mortgage payment. Or the gift of electricity. How about major furniture and appliances? Call me crazy, but I’d prefer to get something that could prepare me a hot meal everyday for years instead of a box of chocolate covered hearts. But maybe my priorities are screwed. In any case, when the woman moves in, the true MANN that decides he’s going to provide for his family will automatically have less money. That’s because he’s busy giving the mandatory gifts… that’s electricity and such. In other words, you’ve already used up that “…just to say I love you” gift money on practical things. Things women should be thankful for anyway, because a lot of low life brothers out here spend it on even more trivial things like going to Zen, tight jeans and imitation designer bowling shoes.

This is not to say that you won’t pick up a box of Ferro Rocher for your baby, but you’d do that when you’ve reached to the cashier after picking up the real gift… groceries for the month. This is not to say that you won’t buy your woman a diamond ring to let her know she’s your Valentine, but you’d do it on the most Valentines of days… the day you propose to her. And that gift should carry over for many a Valentine’s Day to come. And it’s not to say that you won’t carry your woman out… it’s just that rather than focusing on taking her to eat some food at TGI when there’s work to do, it’s a much nicer and deeper gesture to focus on a real good retirement plan that could let you take her overseas on vacation when there’s no work to do. It’s just a matter of priorities.

So ladies, stop living in the MTV version of the real world, and fellas, stop bankrupting getting caught up on the trivial. If you’re going to do it, you might as well do it good.

All hail MANN!

STRANGE

Strange. Went to TGI on Sunday evening for a meeting with the kicker and another breddrin about some business to be conducted. So we hop up on our usual table by the bar. One of the bartenders pulls up. She knows us, and remembers the last time we were there, we ordered non-alcoholic drinks because brothers stop drinking alcohol for a couple months now. The exchange went something like this:

BARTENDER: Aye fellas! How allyuh goin?

US: Cool cool.

BARTENDER: Wuh new? Wuh is de good? Wuh happenin?

ME: Nuttn… de weather. Wuh ah go tell yuh?

BARTENDER: Aight. So what? Two girly drinks?

ME: Buh wuh de…??

Stanger. The Saturday before that, linux came to get a compressor from my old fridge “…to conduct experimentations!” We were talking about some tight jerseys that they got in work to wear to an event, which he dramatically protested against. He said some of the “guys” wore them to work on the Friday that they got them, and one of his bosses was saying that they looked “spiffy” in them. I commented that she would say that. She’s a she.

Strangest. The Friday before that, I was talking to a friend of mine about going to places like Zen and 51. Basically I was saying that I don’t go to those places, because I hardly ever go to spots that restrict me from wearing shorts. I’m into comfort these days. She says “You’re a fashion don’t! You used to be somewhat dapper.” I say “So… what do I win for being a fashion do? Anything… Anything… NO!”

It’s called the YOU SO STRANGE TECHNIQUE. It’s quite simple. Girls take every opportunity to inject some silly standard into your head so that you can conform to what they want you to be. How you should act, where you should go, what you should wear and what you should do. The problem with that (besides the fact that you’ll feel like a brainless monkey doing the Tobago jig for a fig) is that the girls that are using this technique, don’t actually know what they want, and are basically trying stuff out on you. (So linux, I guess girls do experimentation too!!)

They set the standard that men should adopt this metro style and spend time getting dressed, and going to the spa, and styling up their hair with gel and wearing tight, revealing clothes. And if you don’t do that you’re a despicable roughneck! BUT!! She meets that dude. She thinks he’s fly… so fresh and so clean clean! And she falls in to his scene, because she thinks she wants it. But she begins to realize that for him to do that, he has to spend a lot of time seeing about himself and has very little time to squeeze her in. He’s obsessed with himself. So she runs off with a roughneck that don’t give a shit, but thinks she’s the greatest thing since single serve peanut butter in the convenient grease proof paper. She’s also glad that he doesn’t shy away from going downtown because it messes up his mustache.

They set the standard that men should go to Zen and 51 and these places to wine and drink and waste time talking shit. If not, then you’re a nerd and not worth talking to. Then she meets that dude. He’s making her laugh. He can drink anyone under the table. He’s a bag of fun. So she hooks up with him. She thinks she wants it. But then she begins to realize that he’s spending all his time and money doing just that, and he’s at an entry-level position, living with his parents, with no savings and no inclination to take his life forward. So she runs off with that “nerd” that never saw the inside of Zen, because he was too busy creating a new computer language that allows worms to be able to input important banking data and banks worldwide are buying it to cut down staff and be more efficient. She likes getting busy in his new BMW too.

They’ll make you think you’re so strange, and have you reforming. Then you’d be the man… until reality sets in and they realize… “Wait a minute. YOU’RE STRANGER THAN BEFORE! I”M OUTTA HERE!”

All hail MANN!

FAN MALE

Well what do you know. My first email from a fan of the blog. And it's a woman! See! Even though she says all sorts of horrible things about the blog, she can't stop reading it, and even went as far as to send hard core information to support the truths published in this blog. Thought I'd share. 10 points to the original creator of this joke... i mean thesis.

The FBI had an opening for an assassin. After all the background checks, interviews and testing were done there were 3 finalists. Two men and a woman. For the final test, the FBI agents took one of the men to a large metal door and handed him a gun.

"We must know that you will follow your instructions no matter what the circumstances. Inside the room you will find your wife sitting in a chair. Kill Her!!!"

"The man said, "You can't be serious, I could never shoot my wife"
The agent said, "Then you're not the right man for this job. Take your wife and go home."

The second man was given the same instructions. He took the gun and went into the room. All was quiet for about 5 minutes. The man came out with tears in his eyes, "I tried, but I can't kill my wife."
The agent said, "You don't have what it takes. Take your wife and go home."

Finally, it was the woman's turn. She was given the same instructions, to kill her husband. She took the gun and went into the room. Shots were heard, one after another. They heard screaming, crashing, banging on the walls. After a few minutes, all was quiet. The door opened slowly and there stood the woman. She wiped the sweat from her brow.

"This gun is loaded with blanks" she said. "I had to beat him to death with the chair."

MORAL : Women are evil

Don't mess with them !!!!!!!!

Nuff said!

All hail MANN

BEWARE OF THE ULTRA SONIC TONE

Brothers! There is a weapon so powerful, that only few men can escape its clutches. Even as a member of MANN, if your beliefs are not firmly planted and grounded, this weapon will have you swaying more than a celery stalk in a hurricane. It’s the ultra sonic voice tone, and seeing it in action is one of the most terrifying experiences a man could have. Let me try to explain it. It’s when a woman goes up into that high pitched voice and rambles on about some request that she wants. Usually, this comes after she asks for it in her normal voice and meets with some resistance. She unleashes the ultra sonic. Many mean are powerless against it. You see, the tones don’t actually come out from the mouth. They just move their lips in the rhythm of the talk. The tones actually pass through their vocal chords and down to the fobs, where their chamber amplifies the tones and emits them as ultra sonic tones. And you know that anything involving the magical fobs means weakness to the regular man. It’s amazing like Spidey.

Just this morning, I was in my office talking with an artist. An AE entered the room. She made a request for a job, but the artist didn’t want to do it and offered some other suggestions. Now, the other options would have worked, but this artist was the sure shot, and the AE was certain that she’d be able to get her work quickly from that artist. So she broke him off a piece of the ultra sonic. “Ramble ramble ramble ramble ramble… *sad puppy dog face*.” The poor unsuspecting artist gave in… “Ok ok! I’ll do it!” So he walks out ahead of her. You know game recognizes game, so she looks around at me and throws on that wicked smile like “Nothing can stop me now! Not even He-Man and his stupid sword!” It was painful.

But you too can combat this powerful weapon by following these simple steps.

Step 1.
Start breathing slower. As the tones pass through the fobs, little, microscopic pieces of fobs pass out with it and into the air. This throws the chemical balance off in men’s minds, and thus weakens their thinking. So breathing slowly allows less of these fobs toxins to enter your system, allowing your natural immune system to destroy them and you’ll end up staying in control.

Step 2.
Check your back, chest or forehead to see if you have an “I’M AN ASS… RIDE ME” sign stuck on you. This can happen from time to time. If the sign is on, take it off, and the woman should move on to the man closest by. If you leave it on however, you’re an ass and she will ride you.

Step 3.
Make a dismissal. If you’ve withstood the attack long enough to even think about step three, you’ve been exposed to this harmful condition for far too long. You need to get yourself out of that situation. So you can walk off, which is rude, but simple and highly effective. Or you can use one of these conversation stoppers:
•Girl… make a tun eh!
•Nah… buss out
•Steuuuuups
•Move from her nah girl
•Yuh mad or wuh?

Any one of the above should work.

So the next time someone tries to get ultra sonic on your ass, be prepared for battle.

All hail MANN!

IT’S A WOMAN’S WORLD

Don’t get it twisted. We give away leadership long time. It used to be a man’s world eh, but women didn’t like that at all. So they began to strive for equality. Which is cool with me. I could rock with equality. That is until I realized that equality in Womanese means: Controlling from a backseat position. Over the years, women have managed to run the world without actually running the world. As in going places without ever opening a door, or enjoying fine cuisine without paying for a meal. Check it out.

Woman celebration number 1.
Weddings. We talk bout this before. It starts with the man going out on the limb, so that the woman doesn’t have to be under any stress. Then, the man has to be equipped with a passable engagement ring. This is so that the woman can show everybody that she is about to be married, just by waving her left hand around. For this reason, the man must purchase a quite sizeable ring, so it would be easier for her to show off. Then the woman usually selects how the whole thing would look and work, as well as inform the man how much her special day would cost. Then comes the day, and the man goes to the church to wait on her. When she arrives, the bridal party is activated into some sort of action. They play here comes the bride, and she glides in wearing some elaborate dress while the everybody stands. Then the guy gives her another ring, that compliments the first one, in exchange for a slim piece of metal. And so forth and so fifth.

Woman celebration number 2.
Valentine’s Day. A day when couples express their undying love for each other. Also known as the Valentine’s Day Bouquet Competition. On this day, men buy flowers and send them off to their wives and girlfriends at their offices. Each floral arrangement is judged according to presentation, value (a dozen red roses is a benchmark) and visibility from desk. The winner is the woman that gets the most amount of jealous stares and hateful comments circulated about her. Meanwhile, men are happy because they think they’ll most likely get some sex later.

Woman celebration number 3.
The Lifetime Movie Event. These are movies all about one topic. Men are dogs and should be brutally beaten to death just before the police arrive. Nuff said.

Woman celebration number 4.
Mother’s Day. Well, this one is legit. Mother’s should be honoured. HI MOM!!

Woman celebration number 5.
Father’s Day. Now this one is a brilliant move. For Mother’s Day, ads say “Give Mom something she’d love… like a diamond necklace from (insert fancy store here).” Diamonds are a girl’s best friends mentality. So these smart ones plant a big brainwash. They made men think that they like power tools! So the Father’s Day ads say “Give Dad something he’d love… like a Black & Decker chordless drill at (insert hardware store here).” So then Dad gets tools so he can do work around the house. And so Father’s Day celebrates men working for women.

Woman celebration number 6.
Christmas. This is probably one of the most celebrated events internationally. Now it was supposed to be the birthday of Christ, which created the name Christ-mas. He was the first man (well… male like reference) to get excluded from the celebrations. They tried to sneak in Xmas. It was a bit too obvious, so they had to stay with Christmas. Not to be deterred, they implemented a long term plan. They brought in Santa Clause. He was the man. Delivering gifts to all the world with his homedeer Rudolph. Not to give men too much of a head start, they created Ms. Clause to go alongside him. So they managed to put all the attention on Santa and Mrs. Clause. They would be much easier to phase out then the big man himself. Suddenly, Christmas cards, and decorations and other paraphernalia started using less Santa and more Christmas trees, making the tree a more recognizable Christmas icon. When the finally got people to focus a tree, they struck! Right at the very top of the central tree figure, they placed a female angel! Take dat!

Woman celebration number 7.
Carnival. For years we’ve known that “Carnival is woman!” But in recent times, it has become more obvious. The female costumes, though void of all creativity, are getting more and more elaborate. For the same price of rediculous ninety five, men get a short pants and sash, while women get a whole store front of beads and feather headpiece with all sorts of trimmings. And as if this wasn’t bad enough, the bands have now begun to subject us all to one of the most disgusting inventions I’ve seen in a while… The Wee Wee Truck, to facilitate the ladies in the band. At the end of the Ash Wednesday, we all come into Port of Spain so that women can put on what they call costumes (though they don’t disguise a thing) and show off their “just gymed” bodes.

And they’re lots more, but I don’t have the time or the inclination to do them all. So now yuh know.

All hail MANN!

FROM SINCE 19HOWLONG

Since starting this blog, I’ve gotten a lot of feedback from women all over. Some say “Q! Yuh talking de truth! It have some real stink women out there!” Some say “Nah Q! This blog real sexist!” Some say “Q! Who it is mash yuh up so to have yuh so bitter?” Well, firstly, the blog is based on things that I experienced over the years from being in the actual situations, having girls tell me about their actions, or breddrins tell me about their encounters. It based on pieces of reality, mixed with ting to make yuh laugh, because ah mean… if yuh didn’t laugh yuh ass off, yuh woulda never come back to see wuh shit talk went on today ent??

All I’m really doing is talking about a game that has been played since the beginning of time. Since creation. Yes… Adam and Eve. Now remember I was talking about when the female teacher pulls all the girls square and teaches them the game from primary school?? Well that game was handed down from Eve. You know the story right? Man born. First man on earth. Don’t even know what the hell he is, far less for the tall brown thing with smaller green things growing out from it and blowing in the breeze. So he’s walking around naming things… “Oh.. .this looks like ahmmm… a pineapple! Yeah, we’ll call it that!” And God himself comes down and pulls him square. “Yeah so Adam. Ah realize that yuh just walkin around naming stuff. Hear what I’ll do. I’ll link yuh up with a nice lil friend. Take a sleep there let mih borrow a rib from yuh.” And then there was Eve.

Now by this time, Adam done name almost everything, and all is well, he done handle up de scene. Eve just rock back and enjoying the garden life. Adam now, under natural instinct realizes… “But wait! What is that between her legs? Ah doh think ah name that yet! And why I feelin so? Hmmm… Maybe if I put this thing here into that little pocket, I might… might… might… ahhhhhhh!!! Wow! That was great!” The first brush. It probably was heavenly. (no pun intended) Now, yuh know that was most likely the end of all the naming animals and things right? That’s why there are so many undiscovered species and minerals and all that. Adam had a new vice. Cause yuh know he’d get addicted to that warm, good stuff fuh sho!

So in between rounds, Eve takes a little wonder off. “Aye! Look at this tree that God say not to eat from!” And as lots of women do, she goes across to flirt with it. “Flirt flirt flirt flirt flirt… Aye, look ah… ahmm… what Adam cal it again? Horner man? Oh no… snake! Daz it. Snake horner man, same damn ting we.” Yuh know the snake was pimpin’ “Ay yo baby girl. What you be lookin at with yo fiiiiine self? You want some ah dis? Go on baby. Nobody gots to no!” So Eve take it on de downlow. As usual, after she do de ting, she starts to think about what it is she really doin, and freaks out. She start to study that the Father would get real vex, not to mention Adam, he go freak. And all de animals will laugh, and the hardest thing to endure is a crocodile laughin at yuh. Dem ting mouth real big. What to do? She devises a plan. Thus begins the game. The game for survival. She slips into her most seductive Victoria Fig Leaf and goes to adam with fruit in hand. “Honey, I have a confession.” What Adam hears is “Blah blah blah blah… pegs.” “I ate the fruit that God said not to eat, and now he’ll kick me out, so I want you to eat it too!” The crossroads.

Every man stood at this point before. Yuh girl wanting you to really go contrary to what you would usually do just for her. And sometimes is small ting, like go Pricesmart and buy two of de biggest boxes of Stayfree yuh ever see. But sometimes it’s something huge, like give up everything to be with her. A lot of people come down on Adam. “He’s a real fool!” “Boy Eve woulda be on she own!” Ole talk! Think about it. This is the first ever sexual relationship we talking about here. This man didn’t even know that sex could be had. He had no prior knowledge about how sweet it feels, or what to expect or anything! It was just magic. Hardly any man I know in that situation would have the strength of mind to be that stiff to say “Well Eve… It was nice while it lasted.” Adam gave into the game. Next thing yuh know, he had to call 622-taxi (yeah, they were around in them times, driven by Flamingoes), pack up his things and bounce. Eve wasn’t going out like that. What? Go out there by herself, all alone? She doh know if there’s another Adam out there. Hell, she doh know if there is anybody else out there! As far as she know, Adam is the one, and she not walkin away from that just so. So she brings him with her. Blind him with the fobs and drag him out

And it still happens today. That game has been running since 19howlong. But unlike Adam, men are to blame. Other women have been created, so yuh don’t have to be a slave to the fobs. Just refuse that fruit and move on man. This ain’t no garden of Eden, and you can tell because we don’t only have Eve, we have Evita, Yvette, and Edith too.

All hail M.A.N.N.

IT ALL ADDS UP

While writing the first post, I stumbled across a thought that I had to blog about, and then the kicker came in on the comments and beat me to it. I decided to post it still, because I started to write it, and I think is good information for M.A.N.N. out here to have.

Now, not all women have the belly to come out and tell yuh exactly what they do wrong, and yuh lucky if they come out at all and tell yuh anything. So what yuh have to do is use logic. As shame as a woman duz be when they get caught in a slackness, or if she decides to come correct, due to whatever little hang ups society created about the promiscuous woman, it is quite difficult to believe that she’d come and bare it all in front of you. It’s usually worse than she tells it, so as I always say, be prepared for the worse. Now you could simply say that any shady activity is bad, and I doh even want to calculate nuttn, I good. Or you could average and see how bad de damage is before yuh say I good. If you like doin the math, well here’s a little translation sheet that might be able to help you out.

Nah. He doh like me like that. That is just muh friend. = He trackin mih, but he eh really get through yet.

Who he? Steups! Daz not my type. = Ah woulda deal him if we wasn’t dealin… watch yuhself. Ah might still do it under low.

Nah. I not on he. = He tell mih he like mih ahready, but ah didn’t say nothing. I lookin to keep him there in case.

Ah not too sure what he scene is yuh know. He better doh play de fool with me. I will let him know I have a man! = Ah give him muh number, but he ent text mih yet.

Nah. We duz just talk now and again = Ah duz talk to him when yuh not around.

I just talk to him once. = Ah woulda link with him, but he didn’t really have much game.

He kinda kiss mih… but just on muh cheek. Nothin big = He kiss mih on muh lips, but he was kinda nervous as it was the first time and he wasn’t sure. Plus we was in his car so ah didn’t let him kiss mih too long incase somebody pass and see.

All we do is kiss = He kiss mih and feel up muh bress and ting.

He kiss mih and just feel mih up a little bit = He kiss mih, feel up muh bress and was rubbin muh pegs while I was peltin a rounds on him.

He kiss mih, feel mih up, and kinda feel up muh pegs = Ah give him a blow and we nearly bull.

We almost had sex, but nuttin didn’t happen = We bull once before ah feel shame.

We had sex once = We brush everytime we had an opportunity, and if yuh didn’t used to call mih so much, it woulda be more!

We were having an affair = I do ting with him that ah never do with you. OR We was real bullin, daz why ah had yuh saltin so. OR All of the above.

We do real things together, but ah want yuh to forgive mih. = He end up linkin up a parry scene with me, and now ah shame.

I had a three way = I workin Dad’s Dan

And you can apply this thinking to almost anything. For example:

No… nothing’s wrong. = Something real wrong and ah not tellin yuh! But all hell goin an break loose just now.

Or as we spoke about a few posts down:

Nah… ah not really hungry. = I could eat a horse between two mattress, but ah goin an eat outta yours.

Just prepare for the worst, and you’ll be ok.

All hail M.A.N.N.

LEH GO DAT EGO

I touched on it before, but I feel the need to touch on it again. EGO KILLS! As M.A.N.N. you have to start feeding that ego real small portions so it wouldn’t need much to eat at the end of the day. That is actually the dreadess weapon that a Double N could use against yuh. (if yuh wonderin what a Double N is, read the title of the blog. If yuh still don’t get it, log off… dis blog is not fuh you.) Yuh see this ego thing that constantly needs to be exposed and stroked, trust mih, that go kill yuh. Let me show you how.

Women think they know what men want to hear. Take fuh example in sex. “OH GAWD BABY… YES… YES… YUH IS DE MAN!” Some men hear that, their heads swell up (no pun intended) they burss quick, lie down and fall asleep. Next ting yuh know, they tellin’ men “Boooooy… I real deal wid dat! Had she moanin!” Reality… If you putting down a session, and the girl has the presence of mind to create such wonderful, audible expressions of joy and contentment, yuh most likely doin’ shit and she tryin’ to get it over with as fast as she could. Or she have time, Sex And the City not on and she doh really have nuttn else to do so she playin along. First thing first. If you need to hear that reinforcement that yuh good, or yuh is de man and all dat, check yuhself. Yuh have issues. Worse than that, if you have to get ranks from telling people that yuh was so good the girl was saying such and such and ting ting ting, then you’re an anti M.A.N.N. Just do your thing. As a matter of fact, if you could hear and recall everything she said while you were administering a round of penis, you yuhself not enjoyin dat enough. I personally duz cyar hear. So I don’t know what anybody sayin. It’s all blank to me. Maybe I recite the national anthem backwards, I doh know. I don’t have the time to listen. I too busy. Study dat.

Now yuh probably thinkin’ that none of this could really hurt yuh. Well, once again yuh wrong. Feeding your ego like that gets you comfortable. You actually buy into the hype that you are the man, so you become relaxed. Start thinking thoughts like “She eh goin nowhere. She cyar do without me. I duz handle dah matter real serious! SHE GO NEVER HORN ME!” NO SADDESS!! AAAAANYBODY could get a horn. And girls so strange that you could get that horn for the slightest of things. You may not even know what you did wrong. Now I not sayin to do like me and start everybody out with 0% trust and work them up to 100% (which usually comes after about 7 consistent years of unquestionable behavior), but don’t let your ego really make you think that yuh special. You’re not. All the stories you hear about de man that came home to see a man bamsee in de air and his wife underneath, or the guy that saw his girl in a next saddess front seat movin, THAT COULD BE YOU… and yuh just eh find out yet. If yuh think you’re perfect doh, or that your gyal would never do that because you so lucky to find “a good one”, yuh settin up yuhself fuh a tall glass of disinfectant with ice. It will hit yuh from outta de blue, and yuh won’t be able to deal with it. That is also why yuh must try and have dealins with girls from early. See how dey duz move. Take two three horn scenes and go through it so yuh know how it duz feel, so when yuh on to serious things, yuh done experienced and yuh wouldn’t be flippin out and lookin to burn down house with everybody in it. Yuh could just ride, call yuh boys and go drink two Guinness while relating the story to them. (n.b. if you talkin’ to yuh real friends in a situation like this, they will laugh. That’s part of it.)

As I mentioned in a previous post, women do things a lot differently to men. In a situation where a woman is in a scene “on the down low”, the last thing she’s trying to do is impress. To hell with her ego, she has a job to do and she’ll get it done. She understands that somebody will only agree to being on the down low with her if they’re already impressed. So when your stupid ass calls, and she’s moving on her down low scene, she answers her phone as normal. Same how yuh goin… same baby this and baby that… same ah miss yuh, ah love yuh, ah can’t wait to see yuh later and same bye bye honey. That does two things. She keeps her scene concealed, and you don’t have a clue. And she builds on your trust. The thing is, she’s doing that all from telling you what you want to hear. You’re subconsciously thinking that she would never call you baby or say “I love you” if she’s with somebody else. But in reality, that’s just by your stupid standards where you’d want to impress both sides. In the end, you bite that hook, line and sinker with no consideration for the fact that she said she’s walking through town, and you’re not hearing any kind of town ambiance in the background. STUPID! Just as long as that ego gets a nice, big mouthful.

The most important thing though is not to let ego get in the way of friendship, and that’s usually exactly what it does. I’ve seen a lot of good friendships break up because one party said something about the other’s girl. That should not be so. Now understand that some men are just poor judges of character and you can’t just go listening to any Tom, Dick or Harry about serious, personal relations, but also understand that if your close friends are poor judges of character, what the hell are you liming with them for? A friend is probably the most honest and most accurate source of advice and information you could get, simply because friends want to help friends. I’m yet to understand why a man would rile up and spit fire on a friend for tellin him “Aye boy! Ah see yuh gyal huggin up a man in tong!” Immediately they jump on the defensive and start making excuses. Next thing you know it’s an all out brawl “BOY! DOH SAY NUTTN BOUT MY GYAL!” Man. Take the information, apply it and see how it measures up. Don’t go and ask, because you know the answer would be contrary. Ah mean… do you have to ask a pirate if he robbed a ship? But the big ego would make a comment like that from a true friend seem like some sort of ridicule, just what a Double N would hope for. And they’re there ready to fuel the fire with statements like “Yuh go choose yuh friends over me?!” or “Well ah hope yuh could hug up yuh friends when de night come!” and even “Look… just choose between yuh friends and me!” All of which are designed to chain yuh up.

So the long and short of the story is… Starve that ego, it’s really expensive to feed.

All hail M.A.N.N.!

51° OF DISCRIMINATION

This is not M.A.N.N. and woman relations ting, but it is a topic that I believe is still relevant to M.A.N.N. because a M.A.N.N. out here needs to be informed and conscious of what goin on out here. This is about an incident that I heard about the other day, which confirmed my beliefs in the foolishness that goin on in Trinidad & Tobago.

The agency that I work for had a launch event for one of its clients at 51°. Now I didn’t go because I had prior engagements, and because it was for an alcohol, which meant lots of free booze, which I am no longer interested in or have a desire to be around. Anyway, in the first meeting opportunity we had on Monday, an issue from the event came up. Apparently, this “bouncer” at the reception desk was making a big deal of a guy with dreadlocks being allowed into the club. He was making statements like “How dey could let all kine ah rasta inside here so?” and seemed to be very upset about the very idea. Now I’ve heard stories of discrimination before, but if it wasn’t from some unreliable third party, it was a remote tie in. But this one was spot on. It came from somebody that is honest as far as I know, I know personally and not via some distant third party and most of all, has no reason whatsoever to make up a story like that.

Now, I don’t go to 51 because of all the stories I’ve heard, thinking that if they were in fact real, I don’t want to be discriminated against because I don’t think I can handle it calmly. It’s the same reason that I never went to Zen outside of work. All these clubs discriminate and promote stereotyping in the worst of ways, and people just blindly follow through because there’s nothing else to do. Or so they feel.

The “Zen Code” as people call it these days is in fact a stereotype thing. First thing first. No matter how much Armani and Gucci in de country right about now, the vast majority of Trinidadians CANNOT DRESS! They don’t know how. When nobody will kick a fuss and find it insulting to the intelligence that a promoter could suggest that you should come to an event dressed “ELEGANTLY CASUAL”, then we dealin with people that doh know better. What in the hell is elegantly casual? An Egyptian cotton short pants? A gold lined wife beaters? Yuh either formal, semi formal or casual. Elegantly casual is another way of saying NO URBAN GEAR ALLOWED. And that is filth. If I prefer to wear a loose plain Tshirt that I bought this morning, a brand new pair of baggy jeans and some crispy new boots, rather than a tight tshirt with a rooster or some other dotish print on it, a tight low rise jeans with a big belt buckle on a white belt and some shoes that look like I rented them from a bowling alley just for tonight, you are wrong to assume that I am more likely to give trouble in the club... or anywhere else for that matter! You are also wrong to think that I wouldn’t have your club looking good. I could recall a lot of people wearing them size smedium shirts and pants so close you’d think they had them from birth, and they looked horrible. Ah mean, everything is not for everybody. First rule of style… find yuh own! But you cannot, cannot, cannot make judgment calls like those based on a man’s mode of dress. And if you do, I honestly think you should die because the world could do with less of dat.

I don’t have the words to express how stupid I think that whole scene is. How disrespectful and wrong these people are to even want to judge people like that. How silly people are to just go along with it and turn a blind eye. But then, that last one is not a surprise at all, seeing that humans usually don’t take on things until they happen to them. It’s all part of the selfish human nature, which is also responsible for the success of these clubs and spots that promote this crap. Everybody wants to hang with the in crowd. Everybody wants to laugh at the out crowd. Everybody wants to be better than the other dude. So it’s cool to say “Boy, I do it as usual on de weekend. Went Zen, and den sleep jed, I was so mash up after dat. I sleep rite tru yes! But ah like mihself!” And when the other dude says “Ah never went Zen nah!”, dude number 1 laughs an says “Jed!! You NEVER went Zen? You not in nuttin boy!!” So sad, when it should be dude number 2 laughing at the other one for conforming to some rules so that he could pay a devious sum of money to go into a venue, drink over priced drinks, dance to the same music he hears every day, jam the same girls he duz always jam and look at the same plastic girls he lookin at fuh years.

But anyway, back to these idiots. If you really want to control your crowd so that your club looks good, then at the door you should be real. Don’t say that that is what you tryin to do, when you really just want to limit the riff raff… and by riff raff THEY mean Africans. Either yuh saying “Yuh black and wearing baggy clothes so don’t come in.” or yuh telling the dude in the budget Zen Wear “Yo! them threads lookin’ cheap and that is tacky. This is not a tacky club.” Say “Aye! Dem Timberlands lookin like you comin here to make trouble! You can’t come in here wid dat!” Or yuh telling saddess in de licks down chisel toe shoes “Nah boss… dah shoe heel lean down breds. Move from here.” Tell mih “Nah boss! Only fighters and hooligans duz wear jersey wid numbers on dem. We doh want de club to be full ah fighters and hooligans like you!” or yuh tellin the man rockin the imitation brands “Boss… what is a versacha? You cyar be serious?” Either come out straight and discriminate, or if yuh really goin fuh ambiance and a vibe and housing the trendiest of the trendy, then do dat! The club might have about 70 people max in it, ¾ of which might be entertainers, and yuh might buss after a week, but yuh will be keeping it real doh. I might quicker support dat.

All in all, I now more than every will not be goin to any one of them spots that discriminate against people with the dress code excuse or any other excuse that is just as stupid. I will go where I could spend my money and dress how I like, and I will cut my own style and profit of loose from doing just that. Leave it up to me. To ass was wid de whole lot ah dem!

U… UNIFORM

They say lessons can come from the most unusual of places. True to form, I was listening to that Dave Chapelle stand up show the other day (for the one millionth time, and it’s still hilarious!) and he said something that was funny, but when you think of it, real true. He was talking about the usual club scene where the girl walks in all scantily clad with the ass hanging out under the extra short mini skirt and the breasts “all mashed up together, poppin out the top of her turtle neck.” And this guy tries to talk to her. But with the visual in front of him, all that could blurt out of his mouth is “llllllllook at dem titties!” To which the woman replies “Oh no! Because I look this way, does NOT mean that I’m a whore!” Dave says “And it’s true. You’re not a whore. You are not a whore. BUT YOU DO HAVE ON A WHORE’S UNIFORM, I’LL TELL YUH THAT!”

Funny as hell, but true too. It always gets me thinking about the game. The whole idea of “being sexy”. Why? Now I’m not saying that people shouldn’t look good, and yes, good is relative. But I think there is a difference between making yourself look good and making yourself look sexy. Just listen to the word… sexy. There’s sex involved. As a matter of fact, if you break it down literally, it’s really making yourself look sex like, or good for sex. Revealing certain ASSets that may count in the realm of bedroom Olympics. Now here’s the whore part… the mass market part. I’m sure that women would reason that they’re looking sexy for the people they want to look sexy for. Unfortunately, here in the real world where magical beans don’t grow into space aged screens that allow only people on your approved list to see you, when you step out in public, EVERYBODY sees you. So you’re actually sending your “sexy” message to anybody with vision. Your ass is hanging out fuh everbody’s enjoyment.

Now fellas, here’s the thing. Ever wondered why women (not your own mate in the privacy of your realm. I mean just the random woman on the street.) would want to make themselves sexy anyway? IZ TO TRICK YUH!! (like yuh eh get de angle of this blog yet! That was ah easy question.) They call it the jedi breast trick. Wear something showing off de cleavage, and lean over to ask yuh to do something. Like “You will buy me lunch today at an expensive restaurant… and I want dessert.” And check you “I will buy you lunch today at an expensive restaurant… saaaay… would you like dessert?” A combination of the foolish man ego and misguided delusions that “she know wuh it iz she doin.” Makes men behave totally irrational. It’s disgusting. And at the stroke of twelve, she’s on her way to get in on some ah dat gourmet cookin.

Come fellas, snap outta it. She could look as sexy as hell, if she’s not in your bedroom, it doh really matter. Think about it? She’s being sexy in the most unsexy place… WORK!! Nothing sexy about that! But it’s a great place for her to use the trick, because it means that she’ll get her photocopying done, (not to mention her rush jobs… just had to throw that one in there) courtesy yourservices.com, for the very affordable price of an Aquafresh smile. Daz it. Daz de pay off. Well most times at least. So as M.A.N.N. recognize and realize what the uniform really is, and emancipate yourself from vaginal slavery.

All hail M.A.N.N.

EAT AH FOOD

As M.A.N.N., yuh make a turn to pick up a lil ting to eat. So yuh decide “maybe a Chinese. Yuh make de call “Whappenin girl? Yeah, ahmm, ah by de Chinee place dey, yuh want anyting?” Hear de answer. “Nah. I good.” So yuh know that not correct. “Yuh sure?” Answer “Yes. I ok.” So yuh say “Ok. Cool. Ah will see yuh just now. Now you know that that ok cyar be fuh real. So check you. “Yeah, leh mih get a chunky veg, jasmine rice and pepper shrimp, and a quarter portion of pepper shrimp please.” You know dat yuh lookin to eat yuh food, and yuh tryin not to encourage the pick out and pick out until your food done and you still hungry, so yuh buy de pepper shrimp to block yuh. So yuh reach home with tidings of joy, wid a little soy sauce on top, and yuh rock back to dine. Hand yuh gyal she shrimps. Yuh dig in. Yuh think yuh cover all bases because she say “Aye tanks. Is a good ting yuh buy this. Ah now feelin a little bit hungry.” Guess what? Them is words of doom. “Leh mih get a lil bit of yuh chuncy veg too nah?” Ah mean, iz yuh gyal. Yuh must share. Yuh hand over de box. She deal wid de matter. “And ah takin a little bit of yuh rice too eh.” Iz yuh gyal. Yuh must share again. Next ting yuh know, yuh box on de halfway mark, she have a decent size meal dat yuh coulda buy for her just now, and you know that after dat bird feed, you will be hungry again within the hour. It never fails.

So hear what to do. Doh make de call in de first place. Jes call dong a whole food, but buy de same ting dat you buy. She go eat it. And if not, yuh could always put it in de fridge an eat it later. Soundin kinda harsh eh? But nah! It isn’t. I hear directly from a friend of mine “Even if yuh buy something small fuh me, I still want a lil bit of your ting!” Dey not easy at all! So remember, whole food… same as yours… yuh safe.

LIAR LIAR

Men have the reputation of being the biggest liars on earth. That would be true if it were true. Now some men really do delve deep into the realm of fallacy, but when you really check it out, even the most gigantic of male cock and bull stories pale in comparison to the lies women tell everyday. And without even opening their mouths too!

Take for example wigs, weaves, extensions, braids etc. We know your hair ain’t that long. Hell, last weekend you had a midget Afro. Wuzzup with the hair-touchin-bamsee vibes today? And the colours. We know that Africans don’t have blonde as a standard colour option. Red either. And why is your hair that straight? Do you have Indian in your family? Or maybe you’re just part Revlonese. Are you related to Paul Mitchell?

Lips are not supposed to be cherry blossom red number 31. And last time I checked, over the eye, around the eye and cheeks were all skin colour. Not aqua blue and black and so forth. And eyebrows aren’t generally thin, sleek pieces of hair over the eyes. When you consider that they’re there to help protect your eyes from liquids like sweat running down into them off your forehead, it’s kinda cutting off your nose to fix your face. Or should I say plucking out your eyebrows to fix your face. Whatever.

Well doh talk bout the wonder bra and pad-a-panty and dem ting! HEAR NAH! Many a M.A.N.N. hath gazed upon the upright chest of a fair maiden with pleasure, only to discover upon a bare examination that what was once propping up a chin is now having conversations with a belly button. Girdles also included.

Have you ever seen a baby born with a French manicure? Or acrylics with air brushed designs? OK, ah doh think we need to go any further with this one. Ah think yuh get muh drift.

Now the thing is, a true M.A.N.N. doesn’t concern himself with these cosmetic fixtures. Ah mean, everybody appreciates a perky nipple or two, but it really shouldn’t be the be all and end all of human relations. A woman should have more to offer than a Colgate smile and a Lifebuoy fragrance. So the lies are in most part uncalled for. However, some women need to “make up” for their shortcomings. As M.A.N.N., that’s what yuh have to try to see through. So try some M.A.N.N. Anti Make Up Self Spotting Elixir. Just one teaspoon every morning will help you see straight through the lies of make up, hair styling and body accentuating garments and undergarments, thus revealing the true woman beneath. Try M.A.N.N. Anti Make Up Self Spotting Elixir today… an’ yuh name M.A.N.N.?!

Doh feel no way fellas. The title is no longer ours.

All hail M.A.N.N.

TO GAPE IS HUMAN… TO STARE IS NOT DIVINE

How many times have you heard women pounding men for gaping at girls? A good few times not so? As if women don’t gape. Advice: Stop feeling sick and perverted, because women gape too. Just as much as men. Hell, maybe even more. The thing is, once again, women don’t get caught gaping. See, women would gape in the most discrete of ways. You’d be looking right at them and neeeeever even begin to imagine that this girl is having her fill of eye candy right before your very eyes. But not men. Again, the magical fobs possesses us and causes us to stare intently at said fly honey walking down the road in her batty rider, dribble included. The trick is to do what women do. Free your mind from the power of the nookie, and gape tastefully. Check it out.

A girl and her guy are taking a stroll. Love is in the air and birds are chirping the melody of the theme song from Titanic, while six crapauds hum the bassline. In the opposite direction walks a girl. She’s dressed in a mini skirt so short you can see her tonsils. The guy immediately starts to stutter, and forgets what he was saying, all with his eyes fixed on the approaching beauty. Before long it’s “YOU CAN’T BE STARIN’ DONG DAT GIRL WHILE YUH TALKIN TO ME! NAH!! YUH MAD?!” and it’s on.

Not so with the woman. Same scene, but one ah dem plastic fellas in a smedium and a tight pants lookin “bess” comin in the opposite direction instead. The girl wants to take a gape. What does she do? She keeps her head cool, because she’s not a slave to the nookie. Then she uses one of these methods:

THE LOOK THE GIFT HORSE IN THE MOUTH TECHNIQUE
She knows you think she’s going to look. She know’s that she wants to look. So you know what she does? The opposite. She looks at you and continues the conversation as normal, without missing a beat. Now you’re confused, and your big, greedy ego is having a picnic. You have no choice but to look right back at her. Meanwhile, she understands the concept of peripheral vision. You don’t have to stare directly at the target to see it. It’s no eye full, but it’s a nice snack, and she’s fine with that.

THE SHAOLIN CHANGE DIRECTION STYLE
Now this one could come right after the first technique, or it could be used on its own. As she walks, she suddenly pauses. “Oh shucks! Ah wonder if I… hmmm” She pretends to be thinking. Before the guy passes, she turns around. You are confused, and this might be serious, so you look at her hoping to get an answer. This leaves her free to take a long leasurly gape, with a concerned expression on her face that looks like she’s thinking something other than “GOTCHA!”

THE FLYING BUDAH CHAIN UP
This one is actually really funny on its own. More so because she forces you to look too. How? Easy. She simply starts to criticize the brother and asks you your opinion. And as most silly, macho, selfish men would, you join right in thinking you’re safe from at least one. She’s like “OH MY GAWD! He looks so gay in that tight shirt! Jeeze!! Look at him! All his nipples printin’ out! Watch him nah? Yuh doh find he looks gay?” All the while looking directly at the dude. And you with your caveman ass go “Yeah boy… real gay!” And you’re more concerned with not letting the man see you looking at him than the fact that yuh gyal staring hell hard. Mission accomplished. (you should never let your girl make you bad talk a fellow M.A.N.N., but that’s another story. Coming soon.)

These are but a few techniques that have been working for women for years, allowing them to call us the true gape culprits. Use these skills and help balance things off. Start with these as the basics, and soon you’ll be doing variations of them such as THE SHAOLIN 360 WALK BY in which she walks past the standing guy and turns all the way around as if she was looking at something behind her rather than the guy on the side. Or THE WU TANG LAG BACK where she slows down just enough to drop out of your line of vision for a brief second, take a quick gape, and she’s good. Or even the TWINKLE EYE TECHNIQUE where she yells out “SHIT! SOMTING IN MIH EYE!!!” and puts her hand over her eyes and rubs them. All the while peeping through her fingers to take a gape. Master these, and do it like a girl… effectively.

All hail M.A.N.N.

M.A.N.N. vs WOMAN

You’ve heard the comparisons before haven’t you. Women are better than men at so so so. Or Men can’t do such and such like women. They’re all false and women know it. But they hide the truth so that we won’t figure it out. Check it out.

MEN CHEAT MORE THAN WOMEN
Hell no! Women probably cheat more, but that’s beside the point. We’re not dealing with probably here anyway. The truth is, women cheat smarter than men, because their heads don’t get tied up by the nookie. If a woman is doing the unfaithful deed, and her man calls on the phone, she snaps into her default mode… regular. “Oh hi honey! Nothing, just reading a book. Awww… that’s why you’re so sweet. Ok honey… love you!” all with no regard for the outside man at her side rubbing her down with cocoa butter. See, she knows that the outside man isn’t going anywhere. He’s already under the spell of the nookie. But a man receiving that same call… “Ahmm… OH!! AHmm… HI!! I amm… how come you called? No, I mean, it’s ok that you called but ahmm… yes… ah… you wanted something. No I’m just here. If anyone is here? Ahmmm… when you say anyone… well a friend just happened to stop by. Wasn’t sure ahmm sh… shhh… she was coming. I met ahmmm… her a while ago, you won’t know her. Anyway, I have to go. I’ll call you back just now. I’ll call you back. Yes ok… ahmmm you too.” PANIC! Thinking that he done get caught… thinking that the outside woman would leave… thinking everything but the fact that he just sold himself to the Romans. Men don’t cheat more, they just get caught more.

WOMEN ARE MORE MATURE THAN MEN
No they’re not! They say boys and their toys… and men are big babies and all that, but who spends more time in dreamland than women? See men have practical toys and ways to entertain themselves. The sports cars that are fun, but get you from A to B. The big screen TVs which are great for playing video games, but can just as well pick up BBC and TV6 News. Meanwhile, women get hooked on soap operas. And this disgusting Sex & The City. Next thing you know, they’re sitting across the table from you, giving you that look like “Why couldn’t you be taller, blonde, and able to make furniture… like Aden!” You don’t see us looking at them like “Why couldn’t you be the epitome of womanhood… like Angela Basset!” Because men have grown up and understand that magical beanstalks only grow in comic books.

MEN ARE SO EASY TO UNDERSTAND AND MEN CAN NEVER UNDERSTAND WOMEN
Steups! Of all the magazines that come up with 100 ways to please your man and 20 tips to turning him on, written by “learned” women, not one of them were right. None of them advised women not to nag, and keep a steady supply of real good pain killers for those late night headaches. As for women, they are really the easy ones to figure out. Want your relationship to be good and your woman happy? Act like a woman. Answer everytime she talks, comment on her selection of clothes even if you don’t have a clue and visit the mall for no apparent reason from time. And if that doesn’t work, cry and tell her she doesn’t understand you.

MEN ARE FROM MARZ WOMEN ARE FROM VENUS
Well daz just the dumbest thing I have ever heard.

HELL HATH NO FURY LKE A WOMAN SCORNED
Come on! How often have you tuned into the news and heard a story about a woman who killed her man and her man’s outside woman, then herself? Not quite as much as men right? Exactly! A man scorned is a dreadful thing. Dem fellas eh takin dat so! A woman is more dramatic. She wouldn’t kill yuh, but she’d scream until you die though.

And as usual, there’s more. You know it. Like men can’t tell when a woman s faking it, but women can always tell. Nah… Men don’t care if a woman’s faking it. I’ll get mine… you better get yours! Think about it.

All hail M.A.N.N.

UNDERSTAND DE GAME

Firstly, yuh have to understand that it is all a game. Yeah! A game. The good news is, yuh doh have to play. Yuh see, at the beginning of it all, the girls get introduced to the game. And this is at a very early stage. Remember when they divided the boys from the girls in primary school, and the male teacher took the boys outside to talk bout gardening and sports etc.? Remember dem times? Well the female teacher teachers the girls about the game. That’s why when yuh pass by the girls’ class, the door is closed and they’re inside talking in hushed tones. They don’t want the information to leak. That’s when they get all the info on the game. The objective… the moves… and most importantly, the equipment. (hmmm… wonder what that could be?) Meanwhile, the guys are learning why Brian Lara should be the captain of the West Indies cricket team.

Now at the end of a few of these sessions, the boys come out knowing exactly where silly mid on is on a cricket pitch. The girls however, come out knowing that the world has been set up to slant the power towards them. All they have to do is use it. Take this simple reference for example. It is taught that marriage is an important part of a human’s life, and a natural progression for any progressive person. Firstly, the society has it that the man should propose. So the man has to pick the venue (preferably an expensive restaurant or something so), then he has to prepare some clever, romantic thing to say, and then he has to bite the bullet, go out on a limb, drop down on one knee and “pop the question”, while presenting her with the biggest diamond that she has ever seen. (or maybe just the biggest diamond in comparison to that of her engaged or married friends). There it is. She has the power to say “Yes! Yes! I will!! Hehehe!” or “No! you cheap ass cubic zirconium having mofo!” See… the power! And if you need any more clarification, just check out the wedding itself. The groom comes in and stands waiting on the bride, who comes into the church as all present rise to their feet, and the organist begins playing “HERE COMES THE BRIDE”! That’s the wedding song! Not here comes the groom. Nobody cared when he came. The bride is it! It’s the bridal party. Now you can reason that that’s because the groomal party doesn’t sound as good, but nah. Plus the other philosophy works better on this blog.

So the game then is to ensure that these ideals are perpetuated through time. When somebody sees you for the first time in a long time, they would say “So yuh have wife and kids yet?”. That is de game right there! Because when yuh say no, they will try to coax yuh on with a “Why boy?”. The game.

And if you apply that thinking to everyday life, you’d see the game peepin’ through. But don’t do anything. Allow it. Just make sure that you know it’s the game.

All hail M.A.N.N.

WELCOME

Ok, a few clarifications. m.a.n.n. is a fraternity of men who understand that SOME women play the sex card to get what they want from men, and some dumb men actually take the bait. This is because they’re blinded by the nookie. Yuh see, the nookie has strange, magical powers that affect the mind when it’s weak, and allow women to get their way every time. As a matter of fact, some nookies are so powerful, that the men actually play the sex card themselves. It’s something else! But m.a.n.n. is here now to change all of that.

Now this is no woman bashing blog. As a matter of fact, a true m.a.n.n. glorifies a woman that doesn’t resort to this sort of behavior to make things happen. This blog is only against tricksy women who live to manipulate a brother with her magical fobs.

BUT NO MORE!
Because for years we have sat by looking at our brothers covered in slime, but now we shall rise up and declare:
I AM M.A.N.N. HALLOWED BE MY NAME!

Take the vow, and check the blog for frequent lessons that will lift the veil from your eyes.