• » Name: Meka Soul
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Slap-Boxing With Jesus

See, This Is Why I’m Misogynistic Sometimes

For the few people that actually know me – not the kumquats who think they do because they’ve visited this section over the past 14 months and thus have a good idea of how I look and think – I’m your typical single Afrikan male in my mid-twenties trying to figure out what exactly I was placed on this planet for. And if you’re one of the fortunate few that I actually allow into my cipher, you’d know I holds my peoples down like none other and – despite the voracity that’s displayed here – he majority of my thoughts and ideals aren’t that far-fetched.

Even when it comes to my standards on women. Granted, like every red-blooded hetero male I may want nothing more than to slap it in a cola bottle-shaped dimer every now and then, but for the most part I’d like nothing more than to come back home to a smile from the round-the-way woman of my dreams which, to others, may be surprising given a torrid past loaded with one-night stands and random-ass freaky tales in random-ass scenarios.

Those were the days.

Now that I’ve gotten older I’ve learned to not listen to my johnson as much; Lord knows I have too much to risk (read: an Xbox, fly sneakers and a pet turtle from Chinatown) being caught up in some bullshit, what with divorce rates at an all-time high (maybe it has something to do with gas prices?), phony reality programming on the tell-lie-vision that provides the false world of securing love via ass-backward physical challenges designed to make the smartest person come off as a two-bit, walking STD case and other random acts of fuckery.

Yet despite these frightening factors, there’s still those Maury Povich cases that can’t get it right for anything, as if the shit Robert Sylvester is going through right now isn’t enough of a warning sign. I can’t blame them for the most part; when many of these high school hoes portray an adult, it’s pretty difficult to tell these days, what with all the hormones in Chicken McNuggets ramping up their puberty to the point where they actually look 18. When I was at that age, most of the girls in my high school looked younger than they actually were. Hell, the other day I was told I look 19, so that should tell you something about how the female contingent looked in high school.

Real talk though I can’t feel entirely awful for those guys who think more with their bozack [||] than with their brain and end up becoming pillow biters in prison. Much like the skeezers who lie about their age on MySpace, the blame can be placed squarely on their own inability to judge from right and wrong. While some may contend that poor parental skills could be to blame, you can’t blame Mom and Dad when a person is in their twenties; a muh’fuck should be able to think, “Hey, this shit could get me anally violated in prison” at that age.

At this point, I feel it helps that I come off as an anti-social misogynist at times. Not only does it keep the skeezers away, but also it’s been proven to keep me AIDS, baby-momma and man-on-Mek Dot butt sex free [||]. And isn’t that what the so-called Amerikkkan Dream is all about?

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