Nice list huh … If I was to put of every song from my father’s era, this blog entry would take up so much bandwidth my internet service provider would thing I’m posting the damn things to share.

And I haven’t even mentioned the stuff from the Isley Brothers. Before the band broke up (and Ron turned into a dirty old man and a tax cheat), they were consistent in putting out a GTD banger every year.

Some of the hits include “Summer Breeze”, “For The Love Of You, Pts. 1 & 2”, “Voyage to Atlantis”, “Grove With You”, “Choosey Lover”,

“Footsteps in the Dark” and my favorite (and the one that I know that I’m going make the future Mrs. Dawg pregnant by), “Between the Sheets.”

Yes, the GTD song was a staple of many of a household. Your boy did the same and thanks to MP3s I was able to work not one but two lists depending if I knew it was a Pre-GTD night or a for sure GTD night.

Sadly enough now, I can’t even tell you a list of songs to get busy with. I mean sure we get a couple of nice ones like “Bed” from J Holiday and “Last Time” by Trey Songz but these aren’t songs that I think that Rappers are going to sample or my children are still going to use to get their wives pregnant.

Now its all about GTD in the literal sense. When singers used to tell women how much they loved them, now it’s about literally getting ass on wax.

I mean now we are putting our sexual fantasies on records.

But I didn’t start this post to bash the current state of R&B, I want to praise the GTD song list.

Everyone needs one … its just too bad that we can only pull songs from the past rather than the present.

Through thick and thin, through lynchings and cross burnings, through fire hoses and dogs … we had each other.

Unfortunately, things changed. I’m not sure when but suddenly it wasn’t fashionable for Blackmen to love you as much as they did before. No more did we praise you in music and word and quite frequently we failed to acknowledge your presence as the backbone of the Black Experience.

So because Blackmen hurt you by our words and actions, we became less of a desirable option for you to be with, to support and to honor.

No one should put blame on the other. We were both at fault … and the chasm grew wider. So times passed and our kids didn’t have the same love for each other.

Supahead was more than just a word to some people, she was an industry to herself. R. Kelly was using Blackgirls as his own urinal, all the while singing about the “Bump and Grind.”

So the anger boiled over and now simple hellos from Blackwomen and Blackmen are now met with skepticism from the other party.

Now when we were talking about each other like it was cold and disrespectful. We described each other in way different term:

We don’t talk to each other Blackwoman. I’ve had a hand in that personally and for that I need to apologize.

However we both know that we can’t continue doing this to each other. Because for all the screaming we are doing at each other:

It doesn’t solve the problem, it doesn’t give the answer and all we get is white noise.

I still love you Blackwoman and deep down I know that you love me too. I know that this is only a temporary blip on the radar. Soon the Blackman is going to get his shit to together in a way that it was before Malcolm, Martin and Medella.

We have too … we got too. Because we have kids out there who think its okay to say “I Need A Soulja,” “Project Bitch” “Hood Boy” or “Bad Bitch.”

These are not labels that should be for the future mothers and fathers of our children.

Because if we don’t there won’t be any of US any more.

She needed – no craved something more. She missed a soft sensual touch that usually accompanied soft sensual kisses that usually preceded soft sensual lovemaking

She stood up in bed while reaching to her right where her customary glass of wine and Black and Mild Cigar was still waiting for her. In a combination of moves she lit the cigar and drank the remaining bits of wine left from the previous hours of drinking.

Suddenly a flash tore through the sky just outside her window. Lighting.

Its appearance tormented her with its beckoning call while the rain outside was poured harder.

Silently she resorted to an old childhood staple in which she counted the seconds…

“One Mississippi, Two Mississip–”

…To the thunder. It rumbled harder and seemingly echoed just a powerfully inside her soul as well as the outside of the house.

This made the “hunger” speak with a nearly inhuman voice.

It didn’t help that she was naked and could feel her own nipples harden just under the sheet that kept her from being exposed to the elements.

She was hoping her glass of wine and a freshly lit Black and Mild would do the job to calm the urge inside her. However she already was up to a steady pace of four puffs for every swallow of wine but she still did not feel any more comfortable than when she started.

The rain still mocked her but she couldn’t help but turn towards the window and stare at it.

Suddenly, she felt a brush against her spine. It traveled softly from the nape of her neck to the small of her back.

She smiled.

“I didn’t hear you come in.” She said softly, familiar with touch. “I thought you would be working.”

“It can wait.” He told her. “It’s raining.”

She felt him still touching him. This time he was mapping the contours of her body with his whole hands as he was a faith healer looking to heal her.

It did more than that.

The rain was lustfully having fun playing with her emotions and her loins. She succumbed, turned and kissed him passionately.

Their tongues and lips met and she could taste the exciting taste of this passionate moment.

That and the black and mild that she smoked earlier.

The smoke passed from her mouth into his before it escaped into his nostrils and out into the open air.

She moaned her approval of the trick she just performed.

She heard him moan as well. She wasn’t sure that he was feeling the moment or the emotion that he had held for her for so long.

She kissed him again.

This time with more passion than before this time she pulled him tightly against her body. She could feel the thump, thump, thump of his heartbeat in several locations both above and down below.

She knew he had to go back to work but she knew that they both wanted to milk every possible moment into this single act.

She felt his heartbeat and his member getting harder.

“Damn.” She exclaimed. Her lips feasted on his as if there were no other nourishment that could contain her.

He fought against her slightly and attempted to pull away from her and echo her sentiment. “You are so damn–”

The woman grabbed the back of his head and pulled him close to her again. Time was passing and she no longer wanted to wait.

She needed him.

She hungered for him.

The rain agreed.

With much force from her part, she tore off his clothes. There was limited light but she could easily make out his bare, muscular, chocolate form and it made her purr at the seemingly delicious sight.

Without further thought, she reached out, grabbed him below the waist, and like a magnet pulled him in her direction.

It did not take much time before he was at the entrance of her inner sanctum.

She saw him smile and threw him one in less than a second.

In even less time than that he had entered her. She could feel the warmth and the full length of his member as he slid into her.

She heard herself hiss lustfully.

“Take me.” She commanded.

He responded by pulling back slightly and her womanhood gripped him tightly.

Her hands rubbed across his face lovingly and urged him to do the business that nature urged them to do.

She saw him close his eyes and reared back his head in exhilarating triumph as he began to move. Slowly at first, but as each moment continued his movements became much-hurried in pace.

Thanks to the rain, she was already on the edge so she needed that gentle push from him to send her over that edge.

She tried to control herself but his movements made that impossible … damn she was close.

He leaned close to her ear and in a voice just above a whisper, he told her of the things that she was doing to him. The way that she called his name, the way that she touched his wanting flesh, the way that her thrust met his . . . they were stroking the fires deep inside him.

He told her other words both naughty and nice to convey his feelings to her, she responded by saying his name again. She surprised him further by running her nailed fingers across his back.

A roar of pleasure was trapped inside her throat. When it was finally released, moments later, it nearly shook her to the core because of its near animalistic magnitude.

“Sheeet,” She cooed, knowing well enough what she was doing to him.

He kissed her again. However, this time he paced himself and delivered a long and laborious kiss to her

With her eyes now closed, she could feel him as he felt his way around her body…

Touching her face…

Touching her neck…

Touching her full and heaving breasts….

All while she urged him and pleaded for him not to wait any longer.

The rain increased with tympanic force creating a symphony that they hungrily made love to.

The sexual power that surged through the two of them fueled them to do things within the act of lovemaking that they once thought they could not try before.

Exotic things…

“Ohhhh,” she moaned.

…Erotic things…

“Yesss.” He groaned.

…Enticing things…

“Uhhh,” They both moaned.

They seemed to make the experience more favorable for both parties.

They continued … thrusting and arching … arching and thrusting … moving as one entity engrossed in physical pleasure.

The movement of their bodies continued with near perfect erotic precision. She was the ying to his yang as each movement he gave met with an equal and pleasing reaction from her. They wanted to make this trip together.

They had plenty of time.

They had plenty to give.

The lust inside them built to such a feverish pitch that if the energy they expelled were capable of combustion, her home would have been engulfed in flames.

“I’m on fire.” She heard him say, oblivious to the irony of the statement.

She delivered another kiss to him quickly. Her tongue did wonders inside of his mouth and made her even dizzier with anticipation of the moment.

He edged her onward with naughty words. In the back of her mind, she knew that within a few moments she would take that leap from the edge…

She growled.

…they leapt from the edge into the abyss…

He moaned.

“More…”

“Yessss…”

Suddenly…

He grabbed her hand and leapt with her into that place at the exact moment when she felt his seed was released from him. As if it was fate, it mingled with hers and truly made the lovers one. The both shivered slightly as she received him.

They slowly drifted from their plateau into the reality of the real world. At that moment, they could have cared less about their surroundings. All they wanted in the world was in each other’s arms and nothing riches or otherwise could have made things better than this moment.

Meanwhile the rain continued to fall unabated.

For the first time since she started … she didn’t care.

For many of the sporting arenas Black Folk have been making many inroads, but I can’t wait to get to the point where this doesn’t matter anymore. You know like the NBA.

The NBA has bad players, bad coaches, bad GMs and its rarely is it’s brought up that these people are Black. In fact its avoided like the plague.

I mean a black coach/Gm is part of the worst team in the NBA still is allowed to coach because he actually sucks ass as a person rather than because he’s black.

I just want to get to the point were this doesn’t even matter … I’ll have more tomorrow.

Enjoy the game … because if the giants win then the first winning Black GM will be a part of it.

UPDATE: This just in … Guess who spoiled the Pat’s 19-0 coronation.

I take it that Mercury Morris is happy. I mean its the only thing he still has going for him. LOL!

 

Black Love Ain’t Dead.

Yes, I know you heard me say it before in this and several other post but you have to know it’s true. I’m hear to tell you that despite the fact that Black Men rap about women like they were sexual accessories or black women continue to tell each other that Black Men Ain’t Shit,
Black Love for the most part is not dead.

I believe this to be true because thinking of it any other way means that I’ve given up.

I’m reminded of when I was younger and used to watch the Cosby Show. The relationship between Clair and Heathcliff Huxtable seemed so genuine in nature. They slept, fought and made up with each other in such a way that you knew that they two of them fit together.

I knew I wanted a marriage like that someday.

When I was older and in college I found myself gravitating towards the Cosby Show’s spin-off, A Different World. There were many couples who emulated Black Love but none like Dwayne Wanye and Whitley Gilbert. The two knew each other since the show’s first airing but never truly became the romantic stuff of legend until the third season when they both played a game of cat and mouse.

And who could forget the moment when Dwayne declared his love for Whitney (and she as well) on her wedding day. (For the record, if my fiancé’s ex-boyfriend comes interrupting my wedding with that he’s going to get a beatdown … church and family be dammed)

There hasn’t been much of a record of black love lately. I mean I’m sure that it’s been floating around but nothing that you could tangibly see from week to week. I mean Oprah has Steadman but I see more warmth between her and Gayle than her and Steadman. (Please note that I’m not insinuating anything … I’m just staying). Janet has Jermaine Dupri but they both stated they ain’t getting married anytime soon and she may fall out of the public eye if she puts out another garbage album.

I really did feel that hope was lost on this one. Until of course a friend of mine sent me this picture:

Pretty isn’t it.

Just a man and a woman embraced in a moment of intimacy I haven’t seen in a long time between Black Folk in public. Now of course it’s in front of a rally thrown in support of his election campaign but you can see the warmth there.

Some may say that the Michelle and Barack Obama are playing to the cameras but you see you can’t fake genuine love like that. You can’t just put on a face while you’re in front of millions and expect to turn it on when it suits the masses. (I’m looking at you Al and Tipper Gore)

People will see right through it and eat you alive. If you don’t believe me I give you this couple:

I mean come on … do you think that Bill and Hillary even look at each other like this any more:

Honestly, I don’t think that Bill has even touched that since the Monica thing and they are just trying to keep it together because Hillary needs the Secret Service Protection and our government is too cheap to spring for it for both spouses.

Well there was this one picture that leaked on the interwebs. As you can see it was a little older because Bill’s Hair hasn’t greyed from all of the stress he’s taken working on a marriage that’s clearly around for political reasons.

I think I just threw up in my mouth a little.

Anyway, I love that Michelle and Barack seem so much in love. Now I’m not an Obama Stan, I’m just a fan of love in all of its forms and it’s good to see two seemingly attractive black folk who look like they love each other dearly.

Which is why you need to get that man into office.

A friend of mine says that you need to vote Barack into office, not because you need a middle class tax cut but you need someone to inspire Black Children towards lofty goals. I add to that by saying you need to do it to inspire Black men and Women of what to become.

Here you have a Black Man who’s not afraid of letting people know that in some cases his wife runs the show and you have a Black Woman who’s not domineering and occasionally acquiesces to her man.

A couple that would include a Black Man who is intelligent and a Black Woman who is his equal. Imagine the possibility of this concept that is not a fictional creation but rather a real life counterpart that would play out week to week.

Seriously, wouldn’t it behoove not only Black America but America as a whole to see a loving couple run this country back into health.

I pray that is the case.

Because for every Rap song that brings out the worst in men or every woman that does the same type of dirty, I’m going to need that balance again.

I’m going to need my Clair and Heathcliff Huxtable to show me that Black Love Ain’t Dead.

If you want that to you should be thinking of the same.

Barack and Michelle ’08.

That lyric is from the “poet” Soulja Boy who has let me (and millions people) know that its okay to cum on a woman’s back without her knowing so that her sheet sticks to back. I’m not a prude but knowing that bit of information while this song is being played at Professional, College and yes even High School Sporting events puts everything in focus.

I remember when I was younger and my sister and my mom loved Prince. One day she was playing the Purple Rain album and listening with my mom and I and having a good ol’ time.

Darling Nikki was playing at the time.

I knew a girl named nikki
I guess u could say she was a sex fiend
I met her in a hotel lobby
Masturbating with a magazine
She said howd u like 2 waste some time
And I could not resist when I saw little nikki grind

This never bothered my mother for some reason because she heard “worse” from Millie Jackson records.

This was the same woman who for her own Album cover (titled “Back to the Shit”) had her taking a squat on a toilet.

And People Talk About 50 Cent.

So while we “partying down” my father walks into the house and catches my moms reciting the lyrics of Darling Nikki.

“What the fuck?” My father screams.

“What?” My mom says seemingly shocked.

“What the hell are you doing singing about masterbating magazines?” He asked. “In front of the fucking kids!!”

The irony of my father cursing in front of me and my sister was lost on me until I got older. My father being the stern military man was okay with his kids listening to swear words, or watching violent movies was one thing … watching, talking or even looking at sex was another.

Did I mention that my father had his own porno stash hidden in the closet back then?

Okay so long story short because of that song my father literally banned the Purple Rain from the house. This included movies, posters from the movie … even pictures cut out from Right-On Magazine.

You know that’s fucked up when Right-On has to pay the price. But that was my father … he didn’t want to shield his kids from anything … except SEX.

Every time I watch an NBA game or like this event…