KIMORA LEE SIMMONS may have removed the jive turkey from her sammich, but that doesn’t mean she still can’t be a H.A.M.
New Hot Azz Mess photos inside the 2006 2nd Annual Hot Azz Mess Beauty Pageant.
From HAMMER to H.A.M.
April 2nd, 2006HAMMER TIME?!?
April 1st, 2006
We all know that the Hurricane STARRKEYSHA aftermath is fucked the fuck up. There have been the reports coming from New Orleans about victims recovery operations that weren’t completed and over zealous supremacist cops beating the living crap out of retired school teachers.
The latest news is about the gross mismanagement of hundreds of millions of dollars that were supposed to fund the rebuilding of the disaster areas, but is being siphoned away by beauracratic ineptitude. This reminds me of the boondoggle back in the 1980’s when it was discovered that the Pentagon was paying $10,00 for toilet seats.
How much of your social security money do you think the Administration spent on this commemorative gift to the contractors?
HO’S GOTTA EAT TOO!
April 1st, 2006
In the last several years pimps have had one of the best image makeovers that I can remember. From the seedy street corners into the recording studio and then to the forefront of the mainstream’s conciousness with acclaim and awards. Lost in all the talk about how hard a pimps life is has been the recognition of the people for whom without whose back sweat the pimp would have nothing. It seems that no one has any love for the ho’s. At least no one is giving ho’s the credit they deserve.
This summer will be filled with tons of women assuming the new hipster feminist dress code which seems to be that there is some meta-irony in dressing like a crack whore from the 1980’s.
Streetwalker street attire was never simply the foundation for low brow fashion. The GLAMAZON reminded me that ho’s have been the inspiration for haute couture since forever.
Now it’s time for ho’s to receive the socio-political benefits that they deserve. No more public beatdowns from their pimps. No more running from the police. No more back alley blowjobs. It’s time to go A-list for real.
Here’s the rub though… for ho’s to receive their just due it will require a unification of all ho’s on a worlwide tip. I don’t just mean the hardworking ladies that often take one or two for the team on the professional strip, but all the ho’s that may not consider themselves to be prostitutes. The mothers, the daughters, the aunts and the grandmothers. All women have to stand up with the acknowledgement and realization that there is some ho in all of you.
It’s not just the skanks that hang out in bars and use their feminine power to sponge drinks off the men, but anyone with a cunt, young and old.
I mean admit it, you all love animal print clothing. You all have at least one pair of fishnet pantyhose in your stash. Some of you have them in flavors.
Without wholesale ho consolidation there will be no justice, and ultimately no piece of the pie that ho’s have worked so hard for so long to enjoy. Stand up and support the ho’s with DALLASPENN.COM.
Ho’s gotta eat too!
BILLY SUNDAY’s LATE NITE FUNK FLIX
April 1st, 2006‘Cosmic Slop’ is some for real funky shit with guitars wailing and folks slinging serious soul singing.
Funkadelic is the truth bitches.
Ahhh, ahh-ah-ahhhhh, hear my mother call
Ahhh, ahh-ah-ahhhhh, hear my mother call
I was one of five born to my mother
An older sister and three young brothers
We’ve seen it hard, we’ve seen it kind of rough
But always with a smile, she was sure to try to hide
The fact from us that life was really tough
I can hear my mother call
I can hear my mother call (Ahhh, ahh-ah-ahhhhh)
Late at night I hear her call
All alone I hear her call
She said, “Father, father it’s for the kids
Any and every thing I did.
Please, please don’t judge me too strong.
Lord knows I meant no wrong.
Lord knows I meant no wrong.”
Then the devil sang
“Would you like to dance with me? (Ooh-ahh-ooh)
We’re doin’ the cosmic slop.” (Ooh-ahh-ooh)
“Would you like to dance with me? (Ooh-ahh-ooh)
We’re doin’ the cosmic slop.” (Ooh-ahh-ooh)
“Would you like to dance with me? (Ooh-ahh-ooh)
We’re doin’ the cosmic slop.” (Ooh-ahh-ooh)
She was well known through the ghetto
Tricks would come and then they’d go
The neighbors would talk and call her Jezebel
But always with a smile, she was sure to try to hide
The fact from us that she was catching hell, hey!
Hear my mother call
I can hear my mother call (Ahhh, ahh-ah-ahhhhh)
Late at night I hear her call
All alone I hear her call
She says, “Father, father it’s for the kids (Ahhh, ahh-ah-ahhhhh)
Any and every thing I did.
Please, please don’t judge me too strong.
Lord knows I meant no wrong.
Lord knows I meant no wrong.”
(Ahhh, ahh-ah-ahhhhh)
Hear my mother call
(Ahhh, ahh-ah-ahhhhh)
Hear my mother call
She says, “Father, father it’s for the kids (ooh-ah-ooh)
Any and every thing I did. (ooh-ah-ooh)
Please, please don’t judge me too strong.
Hear my mother call (ooh-ah-ooh)
Hear my mother call (Ahhh, ahh-ah-ahhhhh)
SECRET LIVES of GHETTO CELEBS
March 31st, 2006
I wanted some explanation for all the hand signs that I had seen lately by crappers and miscellaneous ghetto celebrati (my word bitches). I was sure that it had to be some cult affiliation like the secret masonic hand gestures that are only mentioned in hushed whispers.
It turns out that there is this fringe sect of jig Scientologists that are running the Hollywood negroes. They call themselves the Per-DUU.
I call them birdbrains.
