As a DJ Premier fanboy, I see it as my duty (and honor) to let the masses know when my man drops some heat. No thanks needed. I do it because I love y’all and want you to be exposed to the most fire underground hip hop available. So sit back and enjoy this banger with a great vocal feature from Miguel.

Now, Premo doesn’t come out with nearly as many songs as he used to in his hay day. It’s only natural. Someone reaches the apex of their profession and slows down a bit to focus more on passion projects instead cranking out material at a rapid pace just to #staygrindin. So when he does put out a track, us HipHopHeads (hereon out referred to as Triple H’s) owe it to ourselves to listen up.


I’ve been living in Los Angeles for the last four years of my life. During that time I’ve had the chance to take in the LA sports scene (or lack thereof). First, let me say this loud and clear: LA people are soft as a bag of baby shit when it comes to their sports teams. It’s the main reason I wrote about how idiotic it was to bring not one, but TWO NFL franchises to the city. However, the one team that LA fans are actually passionate about is the Lakers. Well, it just so happens that the four years I’ve been out here have been the four worst in franchise history. They’ve been a complete trainwreck from the second they gave an aging, injury-plagued Kobe Bryant a final contract worth almost $50 million over two years. It handicapped the franchise during crucial rebuilding years, and with the first post-Kobe year coming to a close the Lakers sit with the second-worst record in the league and one of the most underwhelming rosters to show for it.

But I cannot tell you how many people I hear saying they’re, “one-player away” from being a contender. How Magic Johnson and Jeanie Buss are going to have this team competing for a championship in three years. How the core of Brandon Ingram, D’Angelo Russell, and Julius Randle can be a playoff team next year.

Psst…Lakers fans. I have news…


You’re not good.

You’re not really even close to being good. You’re a bad team. Plain and simple.

Now obviously the Kobe contract really screwed them over in terms of signing any real pieces during those two years. But honestly, Kobe himself deserves a lot of the blame. He wasn’t willing to ease his way out of the spotlight and hand over the keys to the Laker kingdom to anyone but himself. He basically had a stare down with management, and won. They didn’t have the balls to cut ties, and in turn let him control the way he was going out (which was absolute robbery). Lakers fans will defend Kobe to the death, and I don’t blame them one bit. He brought you enough joy to last you a decade of shithole seasons without competing. As a Celtics fan, there was no one in the league I feared and respected more than Kobe. But y’all Lakers fans need to take a step back and just admit that he ran you through the ringer at the end. Doesn’t mean you can’t love him. Just accept and admit that Kobe said, “Fuck you. Pay me,” and bounced.

I happen to listen to ESPN LA radio which covers the Lakers. All day I hear fans calling in and having legitimate conversations about playoff scenarios within the next year or two. I understand that as a fan, you have to have optimism or you’ll just be miserable. But Lakers fans – have you looked at your last two drafts? Your back to back number 2 overall picks? Brandon Ingram and D’Angelo Russell are the most lethargic, lazy-looking, next-generation NBA burnouts that I’ve seen on a team together in a while. Combined, these guys have the collective drive of Billy Madison on his first day of school. They just coast through games with no emotion or fire. I get that it’s just their style and personality, but I have serious doubts about them being able to will their team to wins and step up as leaders of men. Some people just don’t have that quality inside them, and I think Ingram and Russell are two of those guys.

The only saving graces I see for the Lakers are 1) the fact that Southern California is the birthplace of a lot of talented NBA players. And since everybody grows up dreaming of playing for their home team, I could see them landing a Russell Westbrook or Paul George in the next two years. LA is still LA, and players want to play there. Especially in today’s world where athletes are very brand-conscious. LA or New York gives them added opportunities to make money during and after their career. And 2) the brand new shift in power within the organization could turn things around. If Magic can use his ore and stories of championships past to lure players to the Lakers, this could turn around pretty quick.


I’m judging based on the team the Lakers currently trot out onto the floor every night. It’s a GARBAGE squad with mediocre players at best. This team is nowhere close to making the playoffs, and their young core looks like a group that will underperform expectations in the long run. Unless the can lose the Billy Madison attitude and adopt the Happy Gilmore mindset, this team will be at the bottom of the NBA totem pole for many years to come. I hope they get better soon, because the NBA is more fun when the Lakers are good. But I just needed to be the one to serve you unreasonable Lakers fans a slice of humble pie. Look at what’s in front of you and digest it. But be warned – I hear humble pie tastes a lot like doo doo pie.


So RIP to these legends…



…and this snake-tongued freak.



Hopefully y’all can come to terms with reality: The Lakers stink.


Love it. Being fit is wayyyy overrated. Take it from someone who goes to the gym consistently, maintains a chiseled figure, and gets ZERO ass because of it. French is just rocking the classic, “I made it” body. Flabby chest and arms, busting beer belly, and pants hanging below his ass crack all while drinking a red solo cup and smokin’ a cool Joe Camel on a beautiful Hawaiian beach. There’s no point to being in shape when you’re rich. You’ve already won the most important battle. If anything, being jacked and rich just magnifies your insecurities. Oh having all the money in the world isn’t enough? You need to be ripped to shreds, too? What are you, The fuckin’ Rock? Just chill out and enjoy the endless flow of beautiful women, drugs, and rock and roll. No need to be greedy and show up your fellow men.

But if you’re not gonna take it from me, take it from this guy…


Once you’re rich, being fit truly does not matter.

Over the weekend a buddy of mine was telling me about this awful date he went on earlier in the week. He went out to dinner and drinks with a girl he’d been talking to on Bumble for a little bit. Pretty standard shit. Of course he goes on to tell me that the night was filled with awkward silences, jokes that didn’t land, and vibes that weren’t caught. Just three solid hours and $80 worth of uneasiness and holding in farts. Sounds miserable.

But it sparked a discussion of what are some good places for a first date. Obviously we’d all like to go jet skiing or ziplining on a first date. At minimum a girl should have to give an above the pants hand job for a date that fun. But what are some good first date ideas for us normal dudes who are trying to ball on a budget?

One word: Bowling.

I’ve been saying this for years so I might as well say it again. Bowling is THE perfect first date. Some people scoff when I say this and tell me it’s juvenile. Well, sure. It’s slightly childish for a grown man to want to take a woman bowling. But once you have the girl on board and she goes all in on the idea, you’d be surprised at the advantages.

First off, bowling does the one thing that dinner and drinks can’t do – it allows for consistent breaks in conversation. There’s nothing worse than 15 minutes into a date and you’re already out of material to talk about. You can feel the conversation getting more stale as each agonizing second passes. Wouldn’t it be nice if there was a built in excuse to get up and walk away? Boom. Bowling is your answer. There’s not even enough time to get into a deep conversation during gameplay. You’ve gotta get up and bowl every :30 seconds or so. It allows time for the conversation to breathe and gives you time to formulate new topics on the fly. At dinner and drinks you’ve only got one chance to break and that’s the obvious bathroom excuse, which signals to the other person that there isn’t much going on anyways.

Another common complaint about dinner and drinks is that there’s nothing memorable about the date. It’s plain and boring. So one way to spice things up a bit is to inject a little playful competition into the date. Bowling will do just that. It’s perfect because everyone has bowled. If you haven’t, then we have no future anyways. It’s not very hard and the games tend to stay close for a while, unless you’re on a date with Big Ern McCkracken. Hell, sometimes the girl has a night and pulls off the upset. Now, that’d never happen to me because I’m an alpha. But if you’re on a bowling date and take an L, it’s not the worst thing that can happen. Pump the girl up a bit, get her feeling good. Just make sure you don’t get swept in 3 straight games. Then you just got embarrassed and emasculated and will not be going a second date. But let’s say you lose one. She’ll always have that memory of beating you once on your first date. On the flip side, if you dominate and sweep her then you just look like a badass who is really good at bowling. It’s a win/win situation.

Finally, bowling gives you a reason to make physical contact with each other. I know what you’re thinking…how does bowling involve touching? It doesn’t. But it encourages it. Picture this – you’re playing your second game. Things are going smoothly and she’s having a good time. After rounds and rounds of struggling, she finally throws a good ball and gets a strike. She’s super excited so you stand up to give her a high five. Maybe on her next good round, that high five becomes a hug. Then by the end of the game, you’re comfortable enough to try and slip her a little peck on the lips. Just a little smooch. No frenchin’. Just to let her know that you mean business and you’ve got the libido of Bill Clinton inside you. Well guess what? Once you’re in the car on the way home, you’ve already established that kissing is happening. It’s not a matter of if, but when. And how far can you take it. The seed is planted, you just gotta watch it grow.

I stand by my headline statement. Bowling is the perfect first date. This method is tried and proven true by yours truly over a number of years on a variety of girls. I hope there are some guys out there who take this blog and put it into practice. Whether you’re a teenager who’s just hitting the dating scene,  a long time vet looking for love, or a dude just trying to get your dick wet without spending a ton of money, bowling is the way to go.


Well there you have it. A true, candid sign that racism ceases to exist in our great nation. We’ve got our classic stiff, white news reporter interviewing a large, muscular black man on the side of the road. Generally this situation leads to classic viral clips like “Ain’t Nobody Got Time For Dat,” Charles Ramsey, and my personal favorite, the Leprechaun in Alabama. We usually see the news reporter profile his/her surroundings while holding the mic in a vice grip, ready to rip it away at any moment and save the vulnerable 10 o clock audience from a live TV swear. These are the types of things white people do that we don’t even realize perpetuate racism. You all make me sick to be the corn-bred honkey that I am.

But this clip gives me hope. Our news reporter (let’s call him Jim) is interviewing a man who’s built like a brick house. A perfect physical specimen, who just so happens to be black. Now even though I may have tooted my own progressive horn in the paragraph above, I can admit my racial tendencies. When I’m out and about in LA and I see a huge, jacked black dude, I just assume he’s a professional athlete. I always look to see if it’s someone I know. Is that wrong? Maybe. Does it make me racist? I don’t think so. I just want to make sure I catch a glimpse of Terrel Owens if we cross paths.

But our boy Jim the news reporter…he’s progressive beyond his years. He’s like the Bernie Sanders of local cable news. He interviewed one of the greatest NFL running backs to ever play the game and didn’t think twice. It was like he was interviewing his neighbor. Monster black dude who rushed for 2,000 yards a couple years ago? Hm, thought it was the guy I see in the Y locker room after I’m done swimming laps. Could have fooled me.

It’s just good to see an old white guy not profiling a large, intimidating black man. Now, they can accept each other and enjoy an orange peanut or two together. Friends forever!


"Niggas say they moving units but after they pay the 5 niggas they signed to, they back in a Uber, these rappers is stupid, giving all they cash to the jewelers, hoe these niggas on sight & I'm happy to do it, my ratchet is clueless, shooting from the back ah da buick, worth 21 mill & I'm savaging thru it, get you n ya man clipped ah got the cabbage to do it, n all it take is a G like I'm back in the UNIT, niggas is 🤡's say he gone fuck my baby mama wit mask on, would fuck his baby mama her pussy got rash on it, heard she been fucked by every nigga in Philly, stealing Bo Starks lifestyle & rappin like Gilly, you own even post pictures of ya son, you ride dirt bikes wit ya nuts on Tommy Buns, I'll smack the fuck out this nigga for some Hennessy, tellin ya girl business to her mothafuckin enemy, these days niggas is worse than bitches, say they got 40 glocks n then end up gettin stitches, I'm 6'5 250 pounds, it take 50 niggas off 2pac chest to knock eem down, & when you in LA you be walkin on egg shells, but when I find you u gone catch my fade like you catch L's" #StillSpendingGUnitMoney #Ask50 #EverythingBoutToDoA360 #issaFact

A post shared by The Game (@losangelesconfidential) on


Oooohhhhh get emmmmm, Game. As a newly minted part of The Game’s inner circle, I definitely gotta say my man ether’d Meek Mill on this one. Doesn’t get much tougher than a lengthy, passive aggressive social media post. People might say, if he’s really tough he would have tagged Meek in the post. Uhhhhh clearly those people don’t know the subtle art of Too-Cool-For-Schoolery. The second you tag someone in a post, you’ve acknowledged their existence, which is a win for them. My boy The Game has made far too many hits, been shot far too many times, and fucked far too many Kardashians to bother messing around with a pion like Meek Mill. I can speak for The Game when I say that we, as a dynamic duo representing the strongest friendship bond, have already moved past this and are on to frying bigger fish.

With all of that being said, I still gotta call my mans out on a few things here. We’re tight so it ain’t no thang. But 6’5? I can say with full confidence that The Game is NOT 6’5. He’s 6’3 max. We stand the same exact height. And 240 is pushing it to the extreme. I’m 215 and he might be a little bulkier than me, but not 25 lbs more bulkier. Although there is proof out there that his dong might be weighing him down just a bit more than mine, if you so choose to do the research.

And final thought…it’s really fucking hard to read rap lyrics with no beat in mind. Like, nearly impossible. I was trying to figure out which words were supposed to be rhyming together and was struggling. So maybe include an MP3 with the next verse you post on Instagram so can all read along with some flow and rhythm.


Man, you hate to see stuff like this. One of the all-time wrestling greats, known for being a 400 pound behemoth of a man, slimming down in his twilight years for the sake of postponing his own mortality. Selfish, if you ask me. What about us, the fans? One of the best parts about wrestling is seeing fat men in one-pieces throw themselves around the ring like ragdolls. The booming thud of their insanely large bodies hitting the mat after jumping off the top turnbuckle was a staple of my childhood. Seeing wrestlers half their size somehow get them up over their head for a power bomb was always a treat that made the crowd go wild.

But now, in 2017 where everyone is in an unspoken competition to show off their healthy lifestyle with workout videos and instagram pictures, we the viewers are the ones who lose out. Me? I’m not the one who matters. I’m lucky enough to have lived through the golden age of the WWF from 1997 – 2002 with a loaded roster of super stars. But what about little Tommy, who’s slightly overweight for his age. He’s doesn’t have any wrestlers to look up to. Everyone’s got chiseled pecs and washboard abs. There are no more Big Show’s or Kane’s or Mankind’s. No man tits and beer guts. No wrestlers who shake the earth when they hit the mat. This is Trump’s America, people. Vegan wrestlers. It is indeed, sad!

And let’s just be honest…the fatter version of people is always more entertaining.




PS. The 1999 version of The Big Show intro is phenomenal.


This is the fourth installment in a ten part series where I’ll be counting down my 10 favorite hip hop albums of all time in reverse order, from 10 to 1. I’ll be releasing one album per week, for 10 weeks. You can read Part I here , Part II here , and Part III here

Alright, now we’re in the thick of it. This is where the decisions are getting tougher and tougher. If this were the NFL playoffs, we’re through wildcard weekend and we’ve eliminated the fringe teams that don’t belong. We’re on to divisional weekend with seven albums that are all capable of winning the Super Bowl.

Today we’re gonna take a trip back to 1998. Did I know about this album in 1998? Hell no. Not even close. I was more into albums like Big Willie Style, and my legitimate rap knowledge was just scratching the surface with tracks like “Hard Knock Life” and “Ghetto Superstar.” The names of these artists weren’t even on my radar for another six years. But once I found out who they were, they each held a special place in my heart as some of my favorite conscious rappers ever.

I can’t think of a way to introduce them better than they introduced themselves. So, take it away boys…


1, 2, 3…Mos Def & Talib Kweli


Number 7: Black Star – Mos Def & Talib Kweli Are: Black Star (1998)


It was a random weekday night during my junior year of high school. I was hanging at my good friend/neighbor’s house with our little pothead crew that loved to go on blunt rides and listen to Sublime. Fortunately on this night, my buddy who basically introduced me to good hip hop was in the car. He popped his iPod on (those used to be innovative devices that played music in a physical stored data space), and hit shuffle. I was in the very back of this van, in a weird space that had no seats. We were stuffing seven people into what should have been a four-person ride. Halfway through the cruise, when I was many tokes deep, a song came on that completely overtook me. I was locked in from the second the beat came in. I’ll always remember when the first chorus started and I, head bobbing like an absolute mother fucker, involuntarily let out a bellowing, “OHHHHH!” because it was just so goddamn good. The track was, “Definition,” and it set me off on a Black Star vision quest that I’m extremely thankful for.

Black Star is the only studio release from legendary rappers Mos Def and Talib Kweli as a duo. This was released just prior to their own individual debuts as solo artists. Since this album, both have gone on to become two of the most talented and well-respected artists and lyricists in hip hop history. But this is what started it all.

The album starts off with some scratches and spoken words over a darker piano line. I said in The Blueprint review that I’m a huge fan of great intro tracks. Well, although this one doesn’t have the juice that some of the others on this list do, I still love it. It segways perfectly into “Astronomy (8th Light),” which has a heavy, funky bass line and is loaded with afro-centric lyrics that use the word “black” in a number of clever and thought-provoking ways. This is where we first get to hear the two emcees riff with each other and trade lines (a-la the Beastie Boys). Mos Def’s opening to the final verse is exceptional (“Blacker than the night time sky in BedStuy in July / blacker than the seed in the black berry pie / blacker than the middle of my eye“). As a white guy, I’d be hard-pressed to come up with enough cool analogies to white objects to fill this many lines, nevermind a full track.

Then, we’re treated to one of hip hop’s great underground anthems. Like I said before, “Definition” is the song that put me on to Black Star. It’s bursting with energy. The heavy bass and fast moving beat, Mos Def’s hyped verses, Talib’s flow, and of course, that beautiful and catchy chorus. Mos Def’s singing is nothing short of perfect. It’s a chorus everyone can, and does, sing along to. It also has some of my favorite Talib lines ever, specifically in his last verse (“Consider me the entity within the industry without a history of spittin the epitome of stupidity / living my life expressing my liberties it got to be done properly / my name is in the middle of equality“). Lordy lord. Somebody call the fire department! It’s truly one of the greatest hip hop songs in existence. The track seamlessly transitions to the remix, appropriately titled “RE: Definition,” where the two emcees continue riffing over a slightly darker beat, and deliver their rhymes in a more braggadocios style than the previous track.

Brown Skin Lady” is the duo’s tribute to their dark-skinned sisters that they find oh so beautiful. The chopped guitar sample is smooth like cocoa butter and works so nicely with the subject matter. It’s as if Marvin Gaye stuck around until the late 90s and made a hip hop song. Actually, you could say that about a lot of the tracks on this album. They all have this silky smooth, soul-sampled vibe to them that really struck a chord with me and helped shape my own personal taste in beats. “K.O.S” brings our first female vocal onto the album, with a sensual performance from Vinia Mojica. “Respiration” is another highlight, with an all-time sample job from Hi-Tek, who produced half the tracks on the album, and really created the sonic sound for this group. This track also has the first guest feature with a verse from Common. Three of the most conscious rapper’s together on a track for the first time. The track is followed by another beautifully-chopped piano sample from 88-Keys, and yet another catchy chorus from Mos Def on “Thieves in the Night.” It’s like the hip hop version of a cocktail lounge from old Hollywood.

I think “Hater Players” is the weakest track on the album. It’s the only track that’s just kind of there and doesn’t add or takeaway anything from the project. I also would have preferred if the closing track, “Twice Inna Lifetime,” was just Mos and Talib, but I understand they probably used it as an opportunity to put on a few of their friends who were trying to pop off. Having Common as the only guest feature would have been something special, like AZ on Illmatic. I didn’t mention the quirky, and dare I say, cute take on Slick Rick’s “Children’s Story.” It’s a nice nod to the Eye Patch and the only track without Talib. Also, the group’s ode to breakdancing on the upbeat “B Boys Will B Boys.” They really stripped everything down and went back to the roots of hip hop. Fun, energetic, graffiti, breakdancing, cyphers. All the characteristics that were getting lost in the shuffle of bling bling and expensive videos.

What separates this album from other hip hop projects is Mos Def’s singing capabilities. To have the combination of a world-class emcee with a world-class soul voice is something completely unique to him. He’s got a better singing voice than Andre3000 and Drake, while being just as good a rapper. I think the only artist that compares to his talents in both rapping and singing is the great Lauryn Hill. Also, Hi-Tek’s production fit their rhyme style and the context of their tracks perfectly. It influenced the overall sound of conscious rap as a subgenre moving forward.

Black Star came out at a time when hip hop was adjusting to life in the mainstream. The uphill battle was over. Hip Hop had officially made it. And the landscape was becoming saturated with sub-par emcees who were flashy and did anything to sell records. The actual mic skills weren’t as important anymore. What Mos Def and Talib Kweli did on this album was reject the record labels that wanted to turn rappers into a well-oiled machine of money making. They wanted to do things their way and put out music that meant something more than just smoking weed and popping bottles on speed boats. They showed that conscious rap had a place in the hip hop world. There was a mass of fans out there that cared about lyricism and emcees that perfected their craft. They showed that you didn’t have to rap about being a gangster. This album laid the groundwork for artists like J. Cole, Lupe Fiasco, Kendrick Lamar, Aesop Rock, and so many others. It’s an underground classic that I’d recommend to any new fan of hip hop that wants to dig into less surface-level stuff. Easily digestible, catchy, and meaningful.

And if anything, just please, please, please listen to “Definition.” That track alone is worth the price of admission.

PS – there’s an awesome remix album called “Yasiin Gaye” that mashes up Mos Def songs with Marvin Gaye instrumentals. Lot of tracks from the Black Star album on there. Highly recommend it.



I’ve been meaning to write this blog for a while, and with the Oscars coming up this weekend I wanted to get it out to the masses before Sunday.

Let me clear one thing up first before I go in here. I DO NOT consider myself a cinefile. Not at all. I rarely go to the movies and I generally see about 10 new movies every year. And by “new,” I mean new to me. Not new releases. But I consider myself intelligent enough in the arts to appreciate good writing, directing, and acting in a given film. I’ve dabbled in writing pilots, and long story short, it’s really fucking hard to make something that’s entertaining.

So I’m not here to shit on Manchester By The Sea because it didn’t have enough guns, explosions, and sex (but shit, maybe it could have used some). I’m here to shit on Manchester By The Sea for one reason and one reason only…

It was flat out boring.

“But it was so sad and depressing!”

No. It wasn’t that sad. The things that happened to him were sad. The situations he found himself in were sad. But his stone-faced, emotionless acting didn’t evoke any feelings out of me, besides boredom and anticipation for something more to happen.

“But that was the point! He was so empty, there was nothing left inside of him!”

Ok, cool. So I watched an empty man drive around his hometown for 2+ hours while being a dick to everyone he comes in contact with. Good. Great. Grand. Where’s the entertainment in that?

“Ugh. But the man lost his kids in a house fire that HE was responsible for. How can you not have compassion for the tragedy that struck this man’s life!”

THANK YOU FOR BRINGING THIS UP. This is probably the one thing that pissed me off the most about this movie. The scene where (spoiler alert) he comes home drunk to find his house on fire, then realizes his kids were in there and only his wife made it out. They teased this giant tragedy for over an hour before the big reveal. This scene was a climax of sorts. Where we get to find out why on earth Lee Chandler is such a cold bastard. And I couldn’t have been more confused/disappointed.

First off, props to Michelle Williams for being the only person in this film who had a believable cry. I thought she was great. But when Lee is hit with the realization that his kids are dead, all he does is drop a grocery bag and rub his forehead like he’s got some sort of migrane. No tears, no screams of agony, no huge breakdown, no dramatic orchestral music to tug at your heart. Just Casey Affleck being pretty bummed out that his family is dead. And then, we get the incredibly awkward exchange when he’s helping the EMT’s load his wife from the stretcher into the ambulance. There’s this strange moment where he struggles to get the wheels onto the platform of the ambulance, and it takes a few tries to get her in.

What the fuck was that about?! These two just lost their children in a horrific accident, and we close the scene with a moment that felt slightly comedic. Fucking comedy in the most dramatic moment of the film??? I was so confused.

“But that’s the type of director Kenneth Lonergan is. He always includes the subtle, but real nuances of every situation.”

Word. Well Kenny, maybe take a note from James Cameron and add some depressing music to the background so the simplest of viewers, like myself, can discern that we’re supposed to be crying and not laughing after three little kids died in a house fire.

And then, the ending, where Lee finally says no to his nephew and refuses to take him in after months of growing a relationship. Just when I thought the movie was building to something big, I was left puzzled by the “climax.”

“I can’t beat it.” 


No. It was yet another emotionless line delivered by the guy who will probably win Best Actor. I seriously don’t get it. How is this film getting such rave reviews? How does seemingly everyone think it’s a masterpiece besides me? Am I missing something? Did I see this movie blackout drunk? Was I scrolling through Twitter the whole time? Did I just dream that I saw it?

I need an explanation. Someone please explain to me why this movie is good. I’m all ears. Shit, I’ll even see it again if you can point out every instance that I should appreciate. Because right now, I see a boring movie that’s going to win a bunch of awards, and a lackluster performance from a lead actor that is being hailed as something spectacular.

I’m usually completely on board with Boston movies. But on this one, I’m taking the first duckboat out.

(it’s a long video. Gun comes out around 2:20)

First thoughts on this video…how the hell is that guy a cop? He must be on some serious deep cover shit. Because he straight up looks like a wannabe cholo gangster. Like Jonah Hill in the opening scene of 22 Jump Street.


If the video wasn’t prefaced with “Off-Duty LAPD Officer,” I would have just assumed that these kids poked the wrong bear in the wrong hood. An ex-con who had been clean for years but couldn’t escape the old stomping grounds. Until one fateful day he had enough with the skinny jean wearin’, flamboyant-ass millennial wankstas walking around his hood like they’re hard. So he decided to take matters into his own hands and scare their punk-asses with a little desk pop. No biggie, just giving them something to think about.

After getting over the fact that off duty police officers don’t wear their uniform and badge in their spare time, I was able to take in the situation that unfolded.

Now, I’m a cop guy. I love the boys and girls in blue. It’s a real tough time for anyone to enter the force and I commend their bravery, because there’s a lot of sick fucks out there who’d like to grease an innocent badge. A fucked up world indeed.

But man, even without seeing the initial spark to this conflict, I’m having a tough time coming up with any kind of defense for this cop. I understand there was probably a physical altercation between him and the kid, which can set someone off and explain the initial wrangling he was doing. But after that long, when the kid asked to be let go multiple times, common sense HAS to kick in at some point. You’ve gotta have some awareness when a situation is escalating and try to minimize the damage. If you let him go and he starts to attack you, then so be it. Slam his ass when that happens. A grown man should be able to stave off 4-5 13 year olds until their adrenaline runs out and they go back to snapchatting their friend Daniel’s ugly sneakers. This particular group of kids didn’t seem like the type that wanted anything to happen. They appeared to realize their friend was a mouthy idiot, and they just wanted to continue their walk home from school. I truly believe that.

So yeah, for once in my life I’m actually #TeamAnnoyingFuckingMillennialTeenagers. Pains me to do it, but the tape don’t lie. The cop’s life wasn’t being threatened, and there certainly wasn’t a reason to pull out a fucking gun and fire off a warning shot. That’s risky as fuck. That’s how you end up with children’s blood on your hands, brah. There’s plenty of good reasons to pull a gun if you’re trained to use one like this cop was. Unfortunately for him, this was not even close to one of them. If I were him, I’d have reveled in the opportunity to play Whack-A-Mole on a bunch of 13 year olds. Here, I’ll let you go. But if you decide to come at me with your posse, I’m gonna run through the whole lot of you like Stone Cold stunning the field in the Royal Rumble…