i was trying to think about when i was 15.

i was so awkward. weirdest hair in school. shit always got in it.

as a Cub fan id walk down the hallways and people would say Cubs suck left and right.

but fuck them.

in all my classes id get Cs.

except gym and music

and art.

they gave us standardized tests when i was 13 and they said i was gifted

and put me in some gifted classes instead of homeroom

but i still got Cs in the classes.

i knew i was the only black kid in school and i was gonna have problems with girls.

and i did have problems with girls.

but i also had a little luck.

still,

if i was outside after dark

laying in the grass on a summers night in illinois

id look up at the stars and say

any time you wanna pick up yr boy

here i am.

but heres the good news.

aint nobody picking any one up.

aint noone going nowhere.

we are here.

now.

working this thing here out

with one another.

it’s a puzzle so big that no one can do it alone.

not even God.

even He was all, maybe if i made a whole bunch of little scientists

in my image

maybe they can all work together

and do the things and sing the songs and bang the gangs

and in the end everything will be better.

better, not because the tall ones or the pretty ones or the rich ones or the ones with perfect hair had the answer

but because everyone added their weird little perspective

or weird big secret

or not weird and not little flavor

maybe thats why so many of us are here and why so many of us are twisted in unique

freaky ways

she said

and tossed me out of the space ship and into the grass

then flew away.

justlikethat.

which even today

i call bullshit on.

you can listen to the devil who’s right up in your ear hole

who just goes on and on and on

with the this thing sucks, this is terrible, its the end of the world.

or you can try to tune in to the angels

who whisper so delicately

and sometimes even sing

with the omg its so beautiful tony its so nice its just lovely.

of course my devil knows where to take the conversation

he says things like youre gonna go to hell, youre gonna ruin everything, youre burning all the bridges.

and the angels, because theyre polite, wait for him to finish.

but hes never finished

and youre gonna grow old alone and you already are old and your knees are starting to ache 

btw: my knees are fine, satan.

my everythings are fine.

the busblog secret of life is the same today as when this thrill ride started in 2001:

if youre listening to the devil more than the angels you better turn that dial.

and i get it, the devil has better songs, a funnier voice, and seemingly knows exactly what to say at exactly the worst time.

but the angels: they actually work with the truth.

they dont blow smoke up your bung. as if!

there is no beautiful song than the sound of honesty being delivered right from the heart.

fleetwood mac talks about sweet little lies

but fuck the mac.

three songs in 30 years is nothing to crow about.

and neither is listening too long to the most boring poem of all:

you cant

you cant

you cant

you cant.

ty cobb, the second greatest hitter of all time, used what is called the split hands grip

because his hands didnt touch each other

none of the 2,000 current pro baseball players can swing that way today.

babe ruth, the greatest hitter of all time,

used a bat thats so heavy that no major league player today

steroids and all

can believe that a human could swing it.

if they had their way ty and babe would be normal

instead of great.

when i was a little little kid i would do science experiments with my bicycle.

i would start on top of a slope and coast down the perfectly asphalted suburban street

and not pedal

and see how far i went.

then id do it again and see if i could beat it.

what was i testing?

my magical powers, of course.

the only person who can put you in a box is Jesus and trust me, you’ll end up there.

until then, swing your way

and prepare for miracles.

and most things are dares.

there was a time when i would have been to that trump rally

especially if i was still at LAist.

or i would have assigned it to someone.

i would feel sick to my stomach if i sent someone there and this sneering dude

popped em with his brass knuckles.

thats why its better off if you just go yourself.

show em how it’s done for when it’s their time.

which is comin.

expectations are everything

when you’re a baby you expect your bottom to be dry and your belly to be full.

if those expectations aren’t met, you cry until things change.

as we grow, we create unique ways to call bullshit.

not all of us are imaginative enough to take a tv tray, a fold up chair, pancakes and syrup

and march out to the street

and eat those damn pancakes in our night pants

but ive seen some things.

i had a girlfriend i loved so much who would call me constantly and just cry and cry.

theres only so much you can do on the telephone.

i had a boss at the xbi who would order me to take him up in chopper one

and just circle LA

id ask him where he wanted to go and he’d just say

find evil.

some nights there was no evil in LA, whattya gonna do.

so he made some.

sometimes life is just being there for someone else. someone you dont fully understand but someone who you either have to be around or want to be around.

but you have no fucking clue whats going on with them.

i say let them eat their pancakes

in the damn street.

topless.

it’s a free country.

i have pretty girls saying they want me. then they cancel on me.

its like, just dont. im just a man.

then on Bumble, you think you have someone who is halfway normal: cool job, some decent chats back and forth

and then the red flags come up.

she says hey im gonna quit this app, heres my number, call or text.

i go, great, heres mine too.

then a few days later she goes hey my text is funky, heres my WhatsApp

and i think to myself, communication in my life is key. KEY.

no matter how smoking hot this girl is, no matter how great her job is, i cant text her to tell her i scored great tickets to somewhere or im running late or hey look at this fur bikini, what size are you again?

instead i either have to WhatsApp her or wait for her text to become unfunky?

i know maybe 2 million people. 3.5 million if i count trump supporters. you know how many of them have problems with their texting capabilities?

0.0

so suddenly i have to allow the one with funky texting issues into my squared circle?

forget it.

donald trump wont even let people who have been extreme vetted into the country and ive gotta let some gorgeous long haired asian beauty queen who lives like 15 minutes away into my heart and home

and she can’t even with her phone?

what has happened to this country?

is everything fraud on top of fraud?

what happened to, “yo, lets do this.”

“great, what time.”

“only time is now.”

“you got that right bb”

“be there asap.”

“whens that”

“10 minutes.”

“perfect, i’ll boil the water.”

“say what?”

“oh you’ll see.”

and then you fucking do see.