categories: BOK!, IWPS, Muppet Face

Okay, white people…bring it in. Team huddle.

Black people, I heard there’s a new video of Wocka Flocka gettin’ a face tattoo of Kat Stacks  smoking weed out of a cereal box made of purple diamonds and kool-aid dust…go check that out.

Go’n! Git!

Whew. Now that we’ve gotten rid of the Jefferson’s, white people…level with me.

You jivin’ us, right?

I promise I wont tell.

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U-N-I-T-Y. U. N. I. T. Y.

What is that?

That’s a unity.

Who you callin’ a b*tch?

As America’s largest recognized minority group (and recipients of questionable road-side litigation), solidarity has always been our greatest asset in efforts against social, political and recreational injustice. “The people is paramount.” That’s not a famous quote. Its just some profound sh*t I just made up…but we should start using it. Anyway, from Marcus Garvey’s UNIA-ACL to BSU Programs…and even that part in House Party 2, when Dana “Zora” Owens rallied the school in support of an Ethnic Studies program, evidence of our unification has always proven itself a bad mamma jamma. Sadly though, in this “post-racial” era, it would seem as if our most combative weapon has been holstered.

But, we still our brothers keepers. Here’s some ways you can assist in the keepage of your brother (and sister too):

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If you don’t know Marcella Arguello, then it’s abundantly clear that you dont beez in the trap. Which is Modesto. Which is okay, because I’ve never beezed in the trap either. I hate beez. But I like Marcella. Why? Because she’s like a trillion feet tall and hella funny. Hummina hummina. Seriously tho folks *rimshot* , she’s an incredible comedian, currently based in the Los Angeles area…and if you ever happen to find yourself in the vicinity of her performance…beez in that trap. But until you get there, stay here and get la familiar…


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What did Five Fingers say to the face?

” You know who they shoulda hologrammed? My nigga ‘D’….Deez Nuts! SLAP!!!”

Five Fingers is a terrible conversationalist.

Speaking of nuts,  Hologram Tupac got the innanets going ’em. And since I’m to assume that by now, everybody reading this post has already  watched the video (and probly retweetbookedagrammed every subsequent meme ) I don’t feel compelled to post any links to it here. But…you know what you do when you assume, right?

Me either.

I do know this tho, grab your glocks when you see Tupac….or at least when you see his fans, cause they cray. Not surprisingly. Just annoyingly. I’ve seen responses to  the Hologram Based God  be everywhere from It’s the resurrection of the Thug Prophet, sent to Earth to reclaim the juice and ride on these fake ass skinny jean  wearin niggaz. Riverside, mothafukka! – to- It’s the first step to a bionuclearscientifical i-robot fibble-dee-fabble, leading to a complete human eradication. Science. Again, not surprisingly. Just annoyingly.

Personally, I think robots are awesome, and all the divine appellations assigned to Pac are a bit unrealistic. A prophet? Revolutionary? Messiah? My balls, nigga. Don’t get me wrong, he definitely played a significant role in A Different World hip hop and pop culture as a whole, but…c’mon son!  Plus, I’m a little biased. I’m from the east coast. And so was Pac. #whatsbeef

Regardless any opinions on the man, one thing is for damn sure….Hologram Tupac is the bougiest nigga on the Earth!

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categories: BOK!, Haji P., IWPS

Remember when I wrote this?


Well, remember when I asked you if you remembered when I wrote this?

Okay. Well, this is this.

I hate the way people (and by people, I mean white people) so freely spectacalize their feet. It’s so disgusting.  And yes, I said “spectacalize.” It’s a word.  Because I made it one.

Perhaps I hate it because I dont understand it. And thats unfair. People shouldn’t hate things simply because they dont understand. That’s what starts wars and makes doves cry. So, if it’s possible that you can help me understand why anybody would ruin a perfectly enchanting photo of the ocean by including their feet , I would greatly appreciate it. That way, when I continue to hate it, my hatred will come from an edified platform.

Until then, I’ve created a Tumblr. In an effort to help clean up our beaches and restore some integrity  back into your photography.

Join me, wont you…


Feel free to share with a friend. Sharing is caring. And caring makes doves not cry.


Doritos Locos Tacos was an awful idea. It’s by far the most abhorrently disrespectful thing to ever become of a decent and God fearing crunchy meat fold. I can only imagine the shame it must feel around it’s more dignified Mexican peers, Chalupa and Gordita. Seriously, if ever there was a reason for the reinstitution of Separate but Equal, let it be now. I’m just not okay with my cheese powdered snack chip integrating with low grade Spanglish con carne.

The point I’m driving at, is sometimes, new is not awesome. This is not one of those times.

In this new feature, Word Booty! I get the opportunity to talk with a variant of cool individuals doing a variant of cool things. People who do cool things are cool. *Beavis Laugh* Anyway, first up, I got to speak with the homie, and fellow boobie enthusiast (or, boobthiast), @NicholsAccomp. In addition, He’s also a member of not-rap group, Thug Friends, and writer of dextrous innanet web-log,

Why “Word Booty!?”


Why Doritos Locos Tacos?

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Once upon a time…I was ballin’, hoe.  I would do things only true ballers do. Like, go to the dentist on a Tuesday. Not because I had raging gingivitis, or any of those other inhumanly disgusting mouth follies people get from not being listed on somebody’s payroll…but simply, because I could. Because I had a job. With a dental plan. And I like the taste of bubblegum fluoride. It’s delicious.

See, I think what people fail to realize, is that having a job is some beautiful shit. It’s like an eight hour handy  from an angel whose palms are made from cherry-lanolin and butterfly milk (I’m not certain if either of those exist, but I bet they smell amazing), and after an arduous days effort creates an intense build-up, and the clock on the wall finally hits 5:00pm……………………………………….SKEET!!! Got dammit, SKEET!!! 

It’s awesome.

You know what’s not awesome?

Not having a job.

You know what else is not awesome?


But, I’m willing to bet that if the two of those not awesome things were to  fight each other over who was the most not awesomest, Not Having a Job would whoop the monkey piss out of Slavery. It would stand over  Slavery’s bruised body, with its foot on its chest, victoriously holding its fist in the air, and yell some grossly  unsportsmanlike shit like, “BRIIIIIIICKSKWAAAAAAAD!”

…and then it would go home and post the video on

Not Having a Job is an asshole.

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categories: BOK!, Haji P.

It’s been a long time, I shouldnt’ve left you…

Allow me to reintroduce myself….


(Good intro’s aren’t really my thing.)

Anyhow, we back…. hoe’s.  HYFR! By the way, Jewish Jesus hates Drake. Alliteration, my nigga.

Sorry, Im off topic again.

For those of you who continually checked back, and constantly (to the point of  inexplicable concern) inquired about  new posts, thank you for your patience. Please accept my sincerest apologies for having  to tend to the toils of real life, and doing otherwise awesome and adventurous real nigga shit while you were sitting around trolling the innanets for blogs to read… when you should be out doing some real work or attempting to affect change in your community.

I still love you.

And because I still love you, I’m going to do everything I can to make sure you have the most pleasurable reading experience. Starting with dropping that whole “Solebrotha” bullcrap. Cause, let’s be honest, that was corny. My name is Haji P (no relation to Sean, Styles, Von, or Master). I’ve also brought along my homie, Dylly P. You’ll notice a lot of incremental changes actually. So, with that said…continue to keep reading and inquiring,  and I’ll keep telling PETA to let my mink drag on the floor.





Peter Parker picked peppers, and Run solved crimes. Humpty Hump fell down, and Tupac died.

Basically, what I’m saying is…everybody has a “thing.” Not necessarily a talent, but a “thing.” Some type of distinguishing quirk that is you, and only you. Its your thing. Do what you wanna do. I cant tell you who to sock it to.

Por ejemplo:

“Yo, you know Jimmy?”

“Nah, yo,  I don’t know no Jimmy!”

“C’mon, son! You know Jimmy! Jimmy from the block that do the robot every time we go to Subway!?”

“OOOOooOOOOooh! THAT Jimmy!”

See. A “thing.”

Mine is extrapolating racism. I’m like the Dr. House of this Whites Only Pies sh*t. And being that I’m such an astute diagnostician of discriminatory actions, my friends will often refer to me when they need assistance in determining whether or not something is ostensibly racist. Mostly my white friends. My black friends know what time it is when they get racisted on. Most of’em anyway. Some of’em still be on that Tia and Tamara sh*t.

Moving on…read this:

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The big secret in life is that there is no big secret.  Whatever your goal, you can get there if you’re willing to work. –Oprah Winfrey

What a crock of sh*t.

You know what else is a crock of sh*t? A ceramic pot,  filled generously with prodigal bales of human excrement. Which I’d assume is the derivation of that phrase. Which is gross. Because it implies that at some point in colonial history, there lived a Crock-of-sh*tter and a Crock-of-sh*ttee. And in all of his repugnant trickery, the Sh*tter convinced a starved Sh*ttee to eat a bowl of what he said was “Brown Bison Chilli.”  The Sh*ttee eagerly tasted from the pot, and upon first spoonful he belted,  “BLECH! This is not delicious Brown Bison Chilli at all! THIS IS A CROCK OF SH*T! I have fallen for your flimflammery once again!” And thus, birthed the phrase, “Crock of sh*t.”  The Sh*tter was probably French. The French are disgusting. I hate the French.

And while that itself may be a crock of sh*t, there’s still no crock sh*ttier than that sh*t crock of a statement Oprah just said.

And thats why Harpo beat her.

See, here’s my plight…. This isn’t my first blog. I’ve been writing blogs for quite some time now. Truth be told, Im pretty good at it. I mean, not to toot it my own boot it, but sometimes, I’ll write a blog so irreverently opposite of terrible, that I’ll immediately run downstairs, stick my entire desktop to the refrigerator with a blue ribbon magnet that reads 1st place for  “Got damn, n*gga! Datshitcray!” and just stand by it…smiling. All. Damn. Day.

That boy good.

Problem is…I still cant manage to garner a reading audience large enough to make other bloggers jealous of the number of facebook likes I get. But alas, isn’t short for Alaska. My shortcomings in the reader department are nobody’s fault but my own. I’ve been reading and researching you other bloggers who blog on your successful  blogs, and realized why your blog is so much more successful than mine…

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