Club Tweet

This better be worth it. This better be worth it. This better be worth it.

This was all Melanie thought as she stood in line outside the club. It was a chilly October night and while her wool jacket did a decent job of keeping her torso and thighs warm, she was definitely starting to feel the cold in her knees and ankles. She tried hard not to think about how warm she would normally be at this time of night, watching TV in her living room underneath a blanket.

This is definitely not going to be worth it.

Underneath her jacket she was wearing her favourite black mini dress – although she wasn’t sure she could still call it that seeing as how she hadn’t pulled it out of her closet in about eight months. Eight months. That’s how long it had been since she’d gone out like this. Her friends had invited her here weeks ago and after running through several thoroughly researched excuses over the past few weekends, she knew she had reached the end of the line. She finally had to show up. So here she was, in front of the club wearing a black dress and cat ears – the ultimate Halloween cop out costume.

“Welcome to Club Tweet!” a boyish looking bouncer announced as Melanie got to the front of the line.

Behind him was another bouncer, a bigger, older, surlier one. Melanie guessed that the former was the brains of the operation while the latter was the brawn. She began pulling out her driver’s license to hand to him when the younger bouncer laughed and stopped her. A flood of thoughts instantly rushed through Melanie’s mind:

Had it really been that long? Did she no longer need ID? Was she….old?

“You must be new here” he announced a little too loudly. “We don’t need ID here at Club Tweet. Unlike some of our competitors you can really be whoever you want here.”

Melanie wasn’t sure what that actually meant so she did what she always did in this scenario – nod in fake agreement. The younger bouncer handed her a small black marker and a name tag. Clubbing sure seems to have changed. She filled out the name tag with her first name and began pasting it to her jacket when the bouncer stopped her again.

“I’m sorry but you’re actually not going to be able to use that name in here. It’s already been taken.”

“But it’s my name. And I thought you said I could be whoever I wanted.”

“Yeah it’s just kind of a club policy thing. Someone’s already claimed it and everyone in here needs to have a unique name.” The bouncer gave her a look of empathy and handed her a fresh name tag.

Melanie decided to add play it safe this time and wrote down her full name, including her middle name which she really hated. She handed it back to the bouncer who reviewed the name tag and then looked at his clipboard. He then looked at both again before giving Melanie a sheepish grin.

“You’re never going to believe this…”

A few minutes – and name tags –  later and Melanie was finally inside Club Tweet. It was loud. Really loud. Melanie couldn’t really understand the garbled auto tuned music that was being blasted throughout the room but everyone else clearly seemed to be enjoying it. The decor was mostly white with some light blue trim thrown about. Whoever designed this was clearly going for a futuristic look but it really didn’t work. Ironically, the club actually kind of looked like a leftover film set from the 80s. Think Miami Vice but even cheesier.

The first thing that Melanie noticed as she scoped out the club was that apparently she had filled out her name tag all wrong. Everywhere she looked she saw name tags with cool Halloween related celebrity puns like “Christopher Walken-Dead”, “Matt Demon” and “Blake Deadly”, while her boring looking name tag simply read “Melanie Beharrie Douglass”. There also seemed to be a lot of people wearing egg costumes which she really didn’t understand. Melanie couldn’t see her friends in the crowd and was just about to pull out her phone to try to reach them when she suddenly felt someone watching her. She looked up to see…Rick Ross?

It was just a costume but the young man wearing it was definitely committed to the part. He had what appeared to be pillows stuffed underneath his shirt, a big fake black beard on his face and a not at all realistic looking bald cap on his head.

“I’m sorry, can I help you?” Melanie said to Rick Ross.

“Do you like music?” he replied.

“Uh, yeah I guess.”

“Great! I made this mixtape that I think you should really check out. If you’re into music I’m sure you will love it. I can even spit you a little preview of what’s on it if you want.” As Rick Ross continued his sales pitch he began reaching into his shirt and fiddling with his “fat”.

Melanie was dumbfounded. Was this guy seriously asking her to buy his mixtape? Here? Now? In the club?

“It’s only ten dollars”. Ross said, smiling slightly. He pulled a fresh cd from underneath his shirt and was just about to hand it to her when —


Melanie could recognize that voice anywhere. That was Nia Harris. Melanie’s friends had finally found her. Nia, or “Necrota Fanging” as her name tag read, was one of Melanie’s oldest friends. Nia was always the loudest of the group back in school – a fact that had never really changed.


Melanie watched Rick Ross’ confidence deflate as he quickly realized this sale was not going to happen. She couldn’t see his eyes behind his large sunglasses but his body language was certainly a lot more timid as he quietly slinked away. Melanie turned to Nia and the rest of her crew:

“Wow, thanks for coming to my rescue ladies. So is this a thing now? People are really just hawking off their mixtapes inside the club?”

Nia pulled Melanie in close and gave her a patronizing smile. The kind your parents might have given you when you asked as about sex as a kid.

“Listen Melanie. I’m sure I’m going to be saying this a lot tonight but this is Club Tweet….Hennything is possible here.

After spending about half an hour catching up with all of her friends and another half an hour going through the obligatory ex boyfriend bashing talk, Melanie was finally settled in. And sure, maybe it was because she was a few cocktails in but she was actually starting to enjoy herself. She had even made a new friend, one of Nia’s coworkers named Zola, who told the most amazing and entertaining stories she had ever heard. Melanie had just met Zola and was already pretty confident that her life story was going to be turned into a made-for-TV movie at some point.

It felt really good being around her old friends – almost like they were back in school again. Some big things had changed since then; Nicole had a kid now and had to leave early and both Layla and Tania were now married, but for this one night it was almost like none of that had even happened. If anything, it was the small changes that were most notable, like how some of the girls had picked up this unusual habit of repeating anything funny said in the conversation out loud in the club to no one in particular. Melanie also had to find out the hard way that she wasn’t as cool as she thought because it seemed that modern slang had evolved a lot since she last went clubbing. Apparently “washed” means tired now and “eggplant” means penis? Melanie sat there trying to wrap her head around how this worked – anatomically speaking – when her train of thought was interrupted by Nia.


Melanie turned around at the table and sure enough, there he was. His Holy Bieberness. Well it was actually more like Justin Bieber, two bodyguards, a giant entourage and a flock of girls –  but you get the point. As Bieber walked through the club to the back of the VIP section, the mob surrounding him got larger and larger. Melanie was enthralled, it was like watching a really strong magnet pickup more and more metal at a junk yard.

“Lets go over there! Maybe we can get a picture.”

Melanie wanted to protest this change of plans and yell out “HE’S JUST A PERSON!” but a quick look around the table made it pretty clear that she would be in the minority. In fact, the only person who seemed as nonchalant about this was Zola who had apparently met Bieber the Great before.

“It was a crazy night! Remind me to tell you all about it sometime. Who knows? Maybe JB even remembers me?!” Zola bragged.

The girls all grabbed their drinks and shuffled over to the edge of the VIP section. Melanie had seen people gawk at celebrities before but nothing quite like this. This was insane. Pretty much everyone within a 50 yard radius of Bieber was either talking at or about him. And while some of the people on the outer fringes of the mob were trying to remain cool about the whole thing, the ladies up front were completely losing their shit. You know those cute videos of teenage girls freaking out over meeting a pop star? It turns out that it’s a lot less cute and a lot more sad when the girls women are middle aged and being awkwardly consoled by the man that they presumably came to the club with. So far Melanie had overheard countless marriage proposals, several graphic sexual offers and even a couple of open threesome invites thrown JB’s way.

Melanie could feel herself being pushed into the crowd as more and more people joined the mob behind them. She looked across the club and could see that the dance floor was basically empty. In fact, that whole side of the club was pretty sparsely populated. And yet here everyone was, packed in tighter than the joint that Yung Bieber was currently rolling. It reminded Melanie of when she used to keep score at her younger sister’s soccer league. The kids hadn’t really figured out the concept of spacing yet so they all pretty much crowded around the ball no matter where it went. Melanie had just about had enough when Zola leaned in:

“Let’s try to get in closer.”

Zola grabbed her hand and began pulling them deeper into the crowd. Melanie watched in awe as she contorted the both of them around dozens of people. Zola wasn’t a big girl by any means, but she certainly knew how to throw her weight around. A few nudges and calculated pushes later and suddenly both of them were right there at the front of the mob. Justin Bieber was at most 10 feet away from them.

“HEY JUSTIN! IT’S ZOLA! DO YOU REMEMBER ME!!”  Zola shrieked, nearly bursting Melanie’s eardrum.

Justin did not flinch. He kept his head buried in his phone. Melanie was kind of impressed in a weird way. It takes a special kind of sociopath to be able to ignore a crowd of people screaming your name and attempting to take long distance selfies with you. One man standing next to Melanie even appeared to be giving “play-by-play” of the whole situation to someone else over the phone.

“NO, IT’S NOT BLUE. IT’S DEFINITELY MORE OF A DARK PURPLE,” he yelled over the crowd.


Melanie could feel a little bit of claustrophobia kicking in as the crowd pushed her into the man. Is this what society has come to?


She could feel the nausea getting worse and immediately began fighting her way back out of the crowd.

Melanie took a deep drag of her cigarette as she stood outside the club. She turned up the collar on her coat which, once again, did nothing to help her exposed legs from the cold fall air. Melanie’s New Year’s resolution for the past three years had been to quit smoking but yet here she was. She was seriously considering just cutting her losses and moving on to another New Year’s resolution at this point. It’s too late she thought. I am what I am, and what I am is a smoker.

She watched as a black sedan parked across the street from her. Moments later the driver emerged, he was a skinny young latino man and boy did he seem furious. Melanie was sure he had a bluetooth earpiece on and was yelling at someone over the phone, but from her perspective it really did look like he was just kind of crazily arguing with himself. After a few minutes of bickering in Spanish, the young man abruptly hung up the phone. He then crossed the street and approached Melanie:

“I’m the Uber. Are you Jessica?”

“Nope, sorry. I’m Melanie. It’s the other extremely basic white name. I can see how you would get confused.”

“Well that’s unfortunate. To be honest, I would say you’re more of an Ashley but who am I to judge your parents right?”

The man turned and began retreating back across the street.

“And why exactly is it unfortunate?” Melanie cheekily yelled out after him.

The young man turned around. “It’s just rare that I get a passenger at this time of night on weekend that isn’t a drunk mess. And one that isn’t drunk and as beautiful as you – that’s like winning the lottery type odds.”

Melanie blushed and watched as he got back into his car and slowly did a U turn. His car stopped right in front of Melanie and the young man rolled down his window.

“Hey Melanie, here’s my card. If you ever want to hang out or anything, give me a call okay?”

The young man handed Melanie his card and quickly drove off. Melanie looked down at the card:


(555) 434 6854


Melanie flipped the card over to reveal its exquisite finishing touch –  a high-definition photo of his sweaty, veiny penis.

As the absurdity of what had just happened washed over her, she felt a tap on her shoulder. An older gentleman and a short woman, both wearing bright pink shirts, stood behind her. They had seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

“Hi, we noticed you mentioned Uber! Well we just thought you should know that Lyft is having a Halloween special tonight. If you give this coupon to your driver, they’ll be able to give you a 20% discount on your trip. You can even use it multiple times!”

“I can’t believe he didn’t recognize me!” Zola protested.

Melanie struggled to stifle a laugh as she sipped her drink. All of the girls had finally reunited back at the bar and were trading stories about the craziness that had split them all up. Apparently Prince Bieber and his crew left the club just a few minutes after Melanie went out for her cigarette. By this point, the club had returned to its normal state and it was almost as if none of that had just happened. Zola, in particular, still couldn’t seem to comprehend that Bieber did not recognize her and as she went into her story about why he should have recognized her, Melanie completely zoned out.

She stared at the various flyers posted on a pinboard behind the bar. There were flyers for all sorts of events, a contemporary art and dance show called “TumbleArt”, a poetry show called “Snapp Fridays”, and even a weekly warehouse rave called “Cloud of Sound”. Melanie found it odd that Club Tweet would promote competing events and this apparently registered on her face because the bartender immediately came over.

“What’s up? Are you enjoying yourself?” the bartender asked. He looked about 30 something with slick brown hair and a full but well groomed beard.

“Yeah I’m okay. Sorry, I was just checking out those flyers, I didn’t mean to call you over – although faster customer service is definitely one of the few pros of my chronic resting bitch face.”

The bartender laughed.”I really wasn’t sure whether you were deep in thought or deeply pissed off. I just thought I’d play it safe.”

“Yeah, I was just thinking that it’s kind of weird that you guys promote other people’s events that compete with yours.”

“I guess it’s just part of the philosophy here at Club Tweet. We want to be the hub where people hang out and find out about cool new things. Even if that means that they go off and do those cool new things for a while. Ideally, they will remember that they found out about it here and will continue to come back and hang out.”

Melanie was impressed. “Wow, you seem to know quite a bit about this place. Have you worked here long?”

“Yeah I guess you could say that. In a way I’ve kind of been here since day one. My name’s Jack.”

Jack offered a handshake and Melanie introduced herself.

“So is this your first time here Melanie?”

“Yup. I don’t really go out much anymore but my friends insisted I had to come check this place out.”

“And? Did it live up to the hype? Will you be back?”

“Yeah it definitely surpassed the hype in a lot of ways. I mean this place is kind of crazy. Although I’m still not sure if it’s crazy in  a good way or crazy in a bad way. I’m used to going to Club Face which is a little more…tame. Hey, how come you guys don’t have any flyers for Club Face events? I mean aren’t they the biggest club in the city?”

Jack looked offended, maybe even hurt. “We don’t just put anything on the board. It has to be something we support. And we certainly do not support Club Face. They have horrible generic music,  overpriced drinks and the worst most uncool clientele in the business – what is there to support? Fuck Club Face. In fact one of our biggest goals as a club is to avoid ending up like Club Face no matter how big we get.”

Melanie could see that Jack felt pretty strongly about this so she decided to change topics.”So do you like being a bartender?”

Luckily for Melanie, someone immediately called Jack over to the other side of the bar, relieving what seemed like several thousand pounds worth of awkward tension. She turned back to her friends and could see that Zola was still telling her story. Although her stories normally felt as vivid as a movie, this particular story seemed to be as long as one. Melanie cracked a smile as she realized the irony – normally she would be at home at around this time falling asleep to a movie anyway. She pulled out her phone to set up an Uber to take her home. The closest driver was 15 minutes away. She triple checked to make sure his name wasn’t Jesus and then booked him. As she sat there reflecting on the night a short slightly frumpy looking man sat next to Melanie at the bar.

“Hey Ashley! Or was it Jessica? Sorry it was Melanie right?”

Melanie didn’t get it. He seemed to be talking to her. Was he trying to hit on her? Be funny? Because either way he was failing.

“It’s a call back,” he explained, “you know, like back there when you were talking about super basic white girl names?”

Melanie suddenly realized what was happening. “Have you been following me around the club? Are you stalking me?”

“Nah, I just happened to be coming in while you were away on your smoke break. Don’t flatter yourself bitch. You’re not that hot.”

Melanie turned and pretended to be really intrigued by Zola’s story.


Historical Studio Notes

Hey, I definitely love what you’ve done with this so far but I had a few suggestions for you to consider:

On Hitler:
Is it possible to make him at least a little more likeable? I get that he’s meant to be the lead villain but he just seems almost laughably evil. Such an important character should really have a much stronger character arc.

On the War Parts:
The good news is that I absolutely love the potential for further sequels with the whole “WW1, WW2, WW3” framing! However, the goriness of some of these scenes really puts us at risk of losing our PG-13 rating. Is there anyway to show the viewers the atrocities of war without actually showing them the atrocities of war?

On Nelson Mandela:
I found this whole subplot to be a bit too unrealistic, melodramatic and “on the nose”. One note characters like this don’t exist in real life and him becoming president immediately seems like a bit of a stretch. Perhaps we can cut out the superfluous bit with him in jail..

On the Clinton Trump Plothole:
There seem to be some obvious inconsistencies in this universe. For example, earlier in the piece, President Clinton is shamed for his sexual impropriety and casualness with the truth while President Trump seems to be viewed positively for similar but far worse behaviour. Please address this plot hole.

On the Ending:
We are generally fans of happy endings here at the studio which is why were so troubled by the dark and ominous ending. Are there any changes we could make to address this? It doesn’t even have to be major – maybe there’s a way to put a positive spin on the whole nuclear fallout scene.

Once again, this is an excellent start but please let me know when you can have a second draft ready with the above changes.

– Big Shot Fancy Pants Studio Exec

Dear New Inmate

Dear New Inmate,

Look, we’ve all seen the movies. I know that you think that fighting an extremely large man such as myself will frighten all of other inmates thus making you safer during the rest of your time here. I’m writing this letter in the hope that you will reconsider this god awful plan.

Despite numerous obstacles, we’ve managed to build up a nice community here at Leaside penitentiary except for one small nuisance. It keeps getting ruined by assholes like you always coming in and trying to “shake things up”. I can understand how the fact that I, a 349 pound man serving life for double murder, am head inmate in charge might lead one to believe that I got here solely due to my physical prowess but that is far from the case. In fact, there were no fisticuffs involved whatsoever and up until last year’s release of the Heinson brothers I wasn’t even the biggest guy in here. It’s purely coincidental. I was selected to be head inmate in charge in a fair and democratic inmate election. Sure, running unopposed yet again was a little disappointing but I guess the guys are just satisfied with how I’ve been running things. I’ve successfully improved relations with the guards and I’ve been able to keep cigarette inflation far lower than my predecessor.

Now that you’ve been made aware of how we do things here at Leaside, I strongly encourage you to reconsider any plans you might have regarding physically attacking me and I instead encourage you to proactively get involved. We hold our inmate town hall meetings every Wednesday evening in the yard and I’ve taken the liberty of attaching this month’s rec schedule to this letter. Please don’t hesitate to let me know if you have any fresh ideas for how we can continue to improve our community. It would bring me great pleasure to know that I’ve got your vote in the next election. Welcome to Leaside!


Inmate 7585-8393 (Big Mike)

PS: I should mention that as a consequence of a number of newer inmates choosing to view this welcome letter as a sign of weakness, I have actually gotten quite good at fighting. I can assure you that while I certainly don’t want to, I will whoop that ass if I have to.

A Brief List of Petty Laws That Should Exist

If I ask how your weekend was and you mention the weather within the first three sentences, I am legally allowed but not obligated to punch you in the face a maximum of one time per weather mention

If ever caught behind a slow walking group (defined as walking at a speed below 3.0 kilometres per hour or slower) you have the legal right to walk between them rather than stepping out on to the road. This law applies even and especially if stuck behind a hand-holding couple. By walking right through their public display of affection you will not only be upholding the rule of law but also reminding them to be more aware of the entire world that exists outside of their love

All catcalling is illegal with the exception of phrases listed on the officially preapproved catcalling terminology list. This list will consist solely of phrases that are silly sounding enough to remind the user just how out of date this form of courtship is. For example, phrase number one on the list is “Pardon me my fair lady but my loins yearn for your bosoms. Do your loins yearn for mine?”

Any Canadian citizen found to be writing using American spelling can and will be charged with treason. Blaming spellcheck is not a valid legal defence.

If your annual income is above the six figure mark you are legally banned from complaining about any and all prices. This includes but is not restricted to food prices, home prices and especially gas prices. Every infraction of this law shall be penalized with the ceremonial playing of a tiny violin and automatic enrollment in a personal finance seminar

The legal threshold for handshake and hug appropriateness is five seconds. Any forms of embrace (with the exclusion of consensual sexual relations) beyond this can be deemed assault at either party’s discretion.

Adult Yearbook Superlatives

Most unexpected premature balding: That one guy that used to kind of look like Kurt Cobain

Most humblebrags per minute of conversation: Your co-worker who just got into crossfit

Most annoying Facebook friend: Your ex

Most gullible: The girl that keeps reposting really dumb conspiracy theories

Most surprising bigot: The guy you used to buy weed from

Most unsurprising coming out announcement: Spenser from glee club

Most captivating glow up: That girl you were once kind of friends with

Most likely to be a serial killer: Your landlord

Most successful: Definitely not you

The Rap Guide to Shelf Help

It’s not at all an exaggeration to say that there was a period of time in my adolescence where rappers had a bigger influence on my life than my own parents. It sounds crazy to me looking back at it now but there’s no doubt that for a three to four year stretch this was certainly the case. In fact, if I had to list my biggest influences from the age of 12-15 the list would probably look something like this:

  1. Kobe Bryant 1
  2. 50 Cent
  3. Young Jeezy
  4. Nelly
  5. Jay Z 2
  6. Any Film with potential Jessica Alba nudity
  7. My Parents

Like many people my age, I grew up on hip hop. Not listening to hip hop, but on hip hop. I like to think of rap music as the drug I was on that made all of my decisions as a middle school child in the mid 2000’s make sense. Like the time I decided to take dating advice from a man who once dropped the legendary line “I love you like a fat kid loves cake.” Or how for several years, I sincerely believed that I was a size XXL – even though I barely weighed 110 pounds. Thankfully for me, my mother drew the line at unnecessarily wearing a band-aid on my face.

Hip hop was more than just music to me at that age. It was a guide to life. And while in retrospect most of the decisions I made during this “heavily rap influenced” era of my life were as poor as my fashion choices, there were some positive life lessons that I ended up taking away from this period. Here’s what it would look like if some of my favourite rappers wrote self help books:

Kanye West – The Ultimate Secrets of Total Self-Confidence

If this whole etymology thing works the way it’s supposed to, 200 years from now the word confident will have morphed into the word Kanye-fident and rightfully so. No one in the history of the world has believed in anything the way Kanye West believes in himself. There’s a thin line between confidence and arrogance, and while Kanye has definitely veered into arrogant territory at times, there is something endearing about someone who isn’t afraid to say what they truly feel all the time.

Unauthorized Excerpt:

One thing that I’ve found that works for Kanye is saying things out loud. That’s why every morning I look in the bathroom mirror and I say my mantra:

“I am so credible and so influential and so relevant that I will change things. I’m a creative genius and there’s no other way to word it. For me to say I wasn’t a genius, I would just be lying to you and to myself. When I think of competition, it’s like I try to create against the past. I think about Michelangelo and Picasso. You know, the pyramids. Because you can’t look at a glass half-full or empty if it’s overflowing.” 3

And then I brush my teeth and get dressed. Now will most of you reading be able to afford the dope ass outfit I put on? Probably not. But it really doesn’t matter because the dopest thing I’m always going to be wearing is confidence.

50 Cent – The Art of War

50 Cent is without a doubt hip hop’s most likeable bully. Over the past decade, he has had beef with nearly everyone in hip hop and has sometimes even expanded his scope to include non rappers. Remember that one time he named his dog Oprah? Or that other time he taught the world Floyd Mayweather couldn’t really read?4 In fact, rap beef has been such an integral part of 50 Cent’s career that it even has a dedicated section on his wikipedia page. And while a case can be made that his various feuds are the only thing keeping him relevant right now, it’s not as if he acted any differently during the prime of his career. As Ja Rule, Fat Joe and pretty much every other New York rapper from the early 2000’s can attest – 50 Cent was a pretty big bully back then too. As one of the first rap superstars of the internet era, 50 set the blueprint for how to use web trolling to remain relevant and personable in the public eye. So sure, he might not know what a grapefruit is, but when it comes to beef 50 cent is a god damn connoisseur.

Unauthorized Excerpt:

“Where is Ja?” It’s a question that I ask myself all too often – particularly on nights that I can’t sleep. My homies say I’m paranoid but is it really that crazy to think that he could be out there right now plotting his way to finally get his revenge against me? Shit, he could be here in this house and I wouldn’t even know it. It’s one of the downsides of living in this 23 bedroom mansion. Consider this lesson one in the art of war; war never stops even when it appears one side has won. Always be prepared.

Now excuse me, I have to go write another diss record just in case.

Snoop Dogg – The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People:

When most people get high their productivity drops. Once that THC kicks in, it’s like all of those chores suddenly don’t seem so important anymore and it really does seem like more of a television and cereal-for-dinner type of night anyway. When Snoop is high, he sells millions of albums, while starring in multiple film and television roles and amassing a net worth of over $100 million. Uncle Snoop clearly knows some things that the rest of the world doesn’t.

Unauthorized Excerpt:

So check it out nephew, this publisher gave me quite a nice check to give you fools some advice on how to better your lives. Now I have to be honest, some of y’all are lost causes. But I’m not one to focus on the player haters and perpetrators so let’s get to it. The first thing S-N-O-O-P-D-O-G-G would advise is that all of you ladies and gentlemen start worrying about your health. Now, personally, I am a fan of the seaweed diet. I call it that because the only rule to the diet is that once you see weed you have to smoke it. Some people are going to say this is unhealthy, don’t listen to them. I’ve lived by this diet for over 30 years and haven’t gotten sick once. And if weed really affects your short-term memory, then how come I always remember to smoke weed? Another important part of being healthy is exercise. People always ask me how I manage to stay so slim at my age. It’s actually really simple. Two words – crip walking.

Diddy – Think & Grow Rich

Of all the people on this list, Diddy is the closest to an actual real life self help guru. And unlike most self help gurus, Diddy’s advice actually comes with no strings attached. You don’t need to buy a book or go to an expensive seminar to get it, all you need to do is follow him on social media and watch as those life changing motivational messages slowly trickle in. Unfortunately, just like most self help gurus, the advice itself isn’t all that practical. It’s all sizzle and no steak. But Diddy is a master at selling the sizzle. There are few things as motivational as watching Diddy talk that talk. I mean just listen to this, or this, or this or any of these. It’s gotten to the point where I really don’t even expect rapping anymore when I see “featuring Diddy” on a track. I just expect another motivational speech that will make me feel like I’m just a couple steps away from becoming a billionaire. How exactly am I going to make the billion? I’m not sure, I’m still working on that part. But I’m motivated and that’s half the battle right?

Unauthorized Excerpt:

The best way to get something done is to begin. Success doesn’t make champions, challenges do… So if you want to fly, you have to give up the things that weigh you down. A real person is not perfect, and a perfect person is not real.Your mistakes should be your motivation, not your excuses. Have you been on your grind today? Or have you let the negativity consume you! Focus people! God 1st! Get money! Never stop! Let’s go!!! 5

Birdman – How to Win Friends and Influence People

Birdman is an awful rapper. He’s also happens to the fifth richest one in the world. He’s the owner of the label Cash Money Records – the home of a couple of rappers that happen to be pretty damn good. How did this come to be? Does he have super human networking skills? Was he just in the right place at the right time? Does he tell really good jokes? The world deserves to know Mr. Birdman, tell us the secret.

Unauthorized Excerpt:


  1. Nothing tops yelling out “KOBE!” and hitting a game winner in middle school. I’m pretty confident my life peaked right at that moment.
  2.  Yes I had Nelly over Jay at one point in my life. I have no explanation for it other than I was 12.
  3. These are all real things Kanye has said at one point or another.
  4.  Ironically, just like Floyd, 50 has a pretty spotless record of his own. I mean 50 Cent pretty much is the Floyd Mayweather of rap beef. Also, did 50 give Floyd the only L of his career?
  5.  Once again, real Diddy tweets.

As a Black Person

People can get so uncomfortable when you talk about race and as a black person I have to admit sometimes it’s hilarious. I take a lot of pleasure in watching people squirm to avoid talking about it. For example, one of my favorite hobbies as a black person, is seeing how many times I can use the phrase “as a black person” before it gets noticeably weird. So far my high score is 9. It was on a first date and the one where she finally called me out on it was when she asked if we should get dessert and I said “as a black person I just can’t do that”. 1

The beauty of the phrase “as a black person” is in just how passive aggressive it is, because unless the person you’re talking to is blind they already know you’re black but you’re just casually reminding them anyway. If you’re ever in a boring conversation I highly recommend you try it out. You don’t even have to be black. 2

Sometimes all it takes is one “as a black person” to make my day. If it’s well placed and in a conversation that’s just random enough. My favorite one ever was on this poor fellow who happened to ask me for directions to a restaurant.3 I gave them to him, he thanked me and then I decided to have a little fun.

“Not a problem, as a black person I wouldn’t recommend going there but it’s not a problem at all,” I responded.

The look on his face as he tried to comprehend what that meant was amazing. He didn’t even dare to ask why! What he did do though was walk off and then immediately ask someone else for directions. And I have to say, as a black person I was a little offended.


  1. I snuck off a few in that paragraph and most of you guys didn’t even notice. As a black person I’m impressed.
  2. It’s probably funnier when you’re not. Just remember to the change the word black to whatever you are, or else it won’t really work.
  3. It was a Mcdonald’s. I don’t know why I chose to write restaurant, clearly not the right word there. I also could’ve just wrote Mcdonald’s I’m pretty sure most of you have heard of it.

World Panics After Wikipedia Finally Runs Out Of Money

Wikipedia filed for bankruptcy early this morning, bringing the free online encyclopedia offline after a failed last-ditch fundraising effort. “We thought people would realize how badly we needed the money once we increased our fundraising ads to 90% of the total page but it turns out we severely underestimated just how much people really hate paying for content on the internet,” said CEO Jimmy Wales, adding that with no money left over to support hosting costs the encyclopedia is now spread out over various laptop hard drives. “I recently just tried pulling up the page about depression before quickly remembering that it was on Erin’s computer.”

Industry experts predict this bankruptcy will spur the largest drop in global productivity since the election of Donald Trump in late 2016. “I’m not even sure I’m able to do my job without Wikipedia” said one frustrated researcher and grad student. Another student we spoke with said “I’m definitely going to be speaking with my local politician to see if we can fix this. It’s just taking me a bit longer than expected to figure out who my local politician is without the use of Wikipedia.” It’s not all doom and gloom however, as industry experts also predict a steep drop in fights between friends who will now just have to agree to disagree rather than fight over obscure trivia facts.