What is Hottywood Thankful For?

I come to you every week with words of wisdom, slapstick advice and bags of sarcasm.  By now you probably think I’m cold, angry or bitter.  I have to tell you that you’d be wrong!  I’m real.  Like it or leave it.

And so that you know that I do have a heart made out of white gold, on this Thanksgiving holiday I’m going to share with you what it is I am thankful for.



I’m thankful for cruel, foul-mouthed children at the bus stop. 

Those bad ass kids remind me that I was young once.  And that my insults were way more creative.  They also remind me of all the switches my grandma would pull off the tree if I even looked like I was going to come out of the mouth wrong.  “Ouch!”  I think I’m getting welps just thinking about it.  But now that I am thinking about it, I’m thankful for grandma.  Even for all the times she whooped the sh*t out of my ass.  Those country whoopings taught me respect.



I’m thankful for small paychecks and unexpected bills.

Even though I work like a modern day slave, sweat tears and cry rivers all for little more than a Scooby snack; and sometimes want to shove my head inside a burning toaster oven when the gas bill comes, or when the “check engine” light flashes on my dashboard, or when my cell phone bill lashes a ridiculous “tax” charge on my bill summary, I’m still thankful for the small paycheck and the unexpected bills because it reminds me that I have to work harder on my hustle to either accumulate more money to handle my business or land myself in a better class of debt.

“More money more problems.”   That sh*t ain’t gon’ change, but at least there’s a dime to count, a pot to piss in and window to throw it out of.

I’m thankful for the coworkers who always manage to find my last nerve to get on.

If it weren’t for those coworkers who ignore me at the water cooler or the colleagues that astonish me with their lack of knowledge of computers – especially those bullsh*tting tech support guys – I wouldn’t appreciate my time away from home.  The sound of fighting neighbors, barking dogs, and nagging family members would drive me insane as I lose all hope for a dream vacation.  Alas, I have all of the pitfalls of a 9 to 5 to relieve me from pulling out my hair from menial stuff or being cast aside and called typical if and when I miss one Sunday church service.

See, work isn’t a place that just works you hard and pays you in Monopoly money.  It’s also a place that reminds you that you always have more than one aspect of your life that’s not in your control.  Me personally, I’m thankful just to have a job at all.  Holding up liquor stores is not “in” this season and jail doesn’t match my shoes.


I’m thankful for being able to make shrewd business deals and deal with even more shrewd businessmen. 

It’s very true that I could come up with a lot of things to say about people who underestimate my ability to make a sound decision, spot a load of crap, or adapt to a shifty situation when the air is more than hot and thick, but I must also keep in mind that those people who miscalculate, misjudge or underrate me are the very people to show me that I have a lot to prove to myself in order to be the best at what I do and better than those who oppose me.   And those same people are the very ones who afford me the chance to say “Na na na boo boo” as many times as opportunity allows.



And finally I’m thankful for family.

Because through it all – the good times and the bad – family has a way of keeping me grounded and letting me know that I’m not the only crazy mofo walking the streets and saying some weird sh*t.  Family also reminds me that no matter what hand I’m dealt, I can always play the game and win, even when I’m bullsh*tting.  And remember that dear old grandma I mentioned earlier who didn’t hesitate to pull the thinnest switch off the tree to whoop my ass whenever I got out of a child’s place?  Well that same grandma is still around today, ready to sucker punch me w/ her antique boxing gloves when I say anything less than, “no ma’am,” or “yes ma’am.”

And although my wild ass family gets on my nerves just as much as they love and encourage me to be a better Hottywood, I wouldn’t trade them for all the boxes of Popeye’s chicken in the world. …well, maybe if the deal were really for all the boxes… Wait, no I wouldn’t.  Damn.  That’s a tough choice.  Let me get back to you on that one.

Happy Thanksgiving to all you jive turkeys!


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Happy Thanksgiving from Hottywood Helps!

Twas the night of Thanksgiving,
I could not sleep.
I tried counting backwards,
I tried counting sheep.

The leftovers beckoned –
the dark meat and white
I fought the temptation
with all of my might.

Tossing and turning with anticipation,
the thought of a snack became infatuation.
I raced to the kitchen, flung open the door,
and gazed at the fridge, full of goodies galore!
Gobbled up turkey and buttered potatoes,
pickles and carrots, beans and tomatoes.

I felt myself swelling so plump and so round,
’til all of a sudden, I rose off the ground.
I crashed through the ceiling, floating into the sky,
with a mouthful of pudding and a handful of pie.
I managed to yell as I soared pass the trees….
Happy eating to all – pass the cranberries, please.

May your stuffing be tasty.
May your turkey be plump.
May your potatoes ‘n gravy have nary a lump.
May your yams be delicious.
May your pies take the prize.
May your Thanksgiving dinner stay off of your thighs!!


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‘Twas the Night Before Thanksgiving

‘Twas the night before Thanksgiving and everything on the stove

Was boiling over in a mess when Mama had dozed.

The chitterlings were stinking. I think they were scorched.

My nose started bleeding so I threw them on the porch.

Mama was all comfortable, drooling on the couch

While my fast ass sister was getting dressed to sneak out.

And I in my jammies and ghetto stocking cap

Was pissed to finish cooking because mama took a nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a noise

That scared my dog and the neighborhood boys.

Away to the window I flew like a flash

Ducking for cover from bullets through glass.

A drunk driver had crashed into the stop sign outside.

Grabbing my heart I exclaimed, “Oh my!”

On Thanksgiving Day who’d want to be

Holed up in a hospital with a bed pan to pee?

The little old driver who was tanked and high

Celebrated too soon before going out to drive.

More rapid than eagles his ass flew

As our street filled with men in blue.

I felt kind of bad as he stumbled away

But at least unshackled he’d spend Thanksgiving Day.

Unlike myself, a slave to the stench

To the burning food in the kitchen ‘cause mama dozed. The wench!

The fried chicken was crispy, black on the skin.

The yams from the can had to be baked again.

Out of my mouth curse words flew,

“Shit,” “Damn,” even a “Fuck you!”

Dad was no help outside or in here.

He was down in the basement sneaking a beer.

Had mama known she would have started bitching.

Anything to keep her out of the kitchen.

I wouldn’t have complained because she can’t cook

Not even a simple recipe out of a book.

I should be glad she slept as the crumbs I scraped

Stuck to the bottom of the baking plate.

Next year I vowed I would not be

Cooking a dinner for lazy people times three.

Cleaning up a mess that I didn’t start

Watching Thanksgiving go up in a fart.

Where is the man that crashed outside

To give me a bag of whatever got him high?

Where is my dad with the six pack

That gets him all bloated and loaded and fat?

Where is my sister with her lazy ass

To give me a hand with these scorched pans?

Where is my dog to lick the floor?

So I don’t have to sweep and mop any more.

If this were Christmas I’d run away

Hiding in the back of Santa Claus’ sleigh.

Instead it’s Thanksgiving, my favorite holiday no doubt.

But I swear next year we’re ordering take out!


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Hottywood’s HORRORscopes: Week of November 15-21, 2015


Find out what your luck has in store for you this week.


December 22 – January 19

You stand for three things: truth, justice and candy corn.


January 20 – February 18

All of your cantaloupe will end up on the right side of your fruit salad.


February 19 – March 20

Go to your local grocery store and randomly shadow box in the produce section. See what happens.


March 21 – April 19

Be sure not to do anything to attract the attention of baby lizards.


April 20 – May 20

Today may be the day, whether you like it or not, to speak on a concerning recurring and resentful issue of someone’s inability to match their socks with their belt.


May 21 – June 20

You may have to give your seat up on the bus for a blind man and his seeing eye llama.


June 21 – July 22

You have a reason to be about as jumpy as a mermaid at a fish fry.


July 23 – August 22

This week you will speak as if you are storing a mouthful of acorns.


August 23 – September 22

You can totally think of five nemeses more archier than your #1 arch nemesis, and one of them will be wrapped in a yellow boa.


September 23 – October 22

When the moon crosses paths with Jupiter, you will be to be more charming than you actually are. This will be a perfect time to meet a soul mate who has established a successful career as a parrot breeder.


October 23 – November 21

Age is a very high price to pay for maturity.


November 22 – December 21

Everything can be controlled except farts, and the amount of time it takes for a Domino’s pizza delivery…oh and Lindsay Lohan and the shrill of Aaron Neville’s voice.

Quote of the week:  “Only trust people who like big butts. They they cannot lie.”

The Funk Is Not Forgiven

Do you feel ashamed every time a person, animal or plant dies whenever you walk by? Do you smell as if you’re carrying a supreme pizza inside your pocket protector? If you answer “yes” to these questions then you are one of many who suffer from a bad case of Armpiteoustinkeous, otherwise known as bad armpit odor. Ironically Armpiteoustinkeous doesn’t just come from the armpit, which only supports the theory of a wise man’s proverb that says, “sh!t doesn’t just come out of one end.”

Ordinarily I’d tell you Armpiteoustinkeous is nothing to be ashamed of, but because of a little discovery called soap, if you carry a foul odor, whether in the pits of your arms or some other place that would be offensive to some audiences, you should be ashamed of yourself because there is no reason for the funkage!

I’m not going to sit here and make fun of funky people. Some people don’t think their sh!t stinks. Understand that I’ve done my research, though. I know why a body stinks. I know about chemical imbalances and that anaerobic bacteria builds and flourishes on the skin when the body doesn’t produce enough oxygen. I know the whole process of the body doing what it does to make it do what it do; and that when metabolism is at work it creates an unpleasant smell as the body releases waste in the forms of sweat and butt burps. I get it. Stinking it natural. But if you were to hold a water gun full of prune juice to anybody’s throat and dared them to say the first word that comes to mind when they hear the words “cure for stink,” nine times out of ten the average person would say “soap!” And rightfully so.

Soap is rumored to be discovered as early back as the year 1000 B.C., by a group of Roman women who washed their garments in the river of the base of a mountain, below a higher elevation where animal sacrifice had taken place. Tales say that the animal fat when combined with the wood ashes and soils of the earth created a cleansing substance. The smartest person on the planet could whip out some proof of the Babylonian tablet that holds the formula of soap (water, alkali, and cassia oil), written somewhere along the lines of 2800 years before today. So I’ve been told, 2800 years is around the time of the beginning of the beginning. I don’t think there’s anyone alive today who can prove that theory to be wrong (except my ex girlfriend’s mother. She was born at the beginning of time and probably won’t die until she’s sucked the life out of every living creature on the planet, but that’s a story for another time). That in turn tells me that soap has been around since the beginning of time. I don’t care what came first – the chicken or the egg, soap has been around long enough for everyone to know what it does and when to go somewhere and use it.

Everyone knows that soap is the kryptonite to bacteria and people that wear their Monday tee shirts all week long; and folks that don’t wear socks with their shoes. Soap is the aspirin to those people who suffer headaches from their twelve hour deodorant that only lasts for four hours. Soap is the answer to stinky people’s problems as well as the answers to the prayers of the people who have to smell that sh!t. No matter of background – age, race, species, religion or any otherwise personal belief – soap is universal. It cleans. There is no reason why anyone’s ass or underarms should stink. Soap is a natural product that can be made. It’s insignificant enough to be borrowed and small enough to be lifted on a five-finger discount, if need be.

It’s a necessity as well as a consideration. Soap is the justice to the abomination of funk. It is a right comparable to respect and demand. It is the revelation to people that are omitted from cliques, left dateless on Friday nights, and always seem to have a seat to themselves on the metro. The “pew” face means the same thing in every language – Swahili, Bulgarian, Yiddish, Maltese, German, Spanish, English – you name it. Stink stinks and that ain’t right because that’s not the way things are meant to be. Soap, ladies and gentlemen, is the simple solution to the Armpiteoustinkeous epidemic.

Some can debate and defend why you stink and some can accept it, but most can’t forgive it.  Either way, if someone else smells you then you smell you, too.  For the love of mankind, “sticks and stones may break my bones but it’s your stench that’s killing me.”  Soap is to the body what laughter is to the soul. You can’t hit home any harder than that.  If you can’t clean ya’ ass for the sake of yourself or the people around you, then do it for the universe.  Keep the balance of nature in order or forever be cursed with a sterile social life.

Quote of the week:  “My wounds stink and are corrupt because of my foolishness.” -Psalm 38:5


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This Week on, “Ask Hottywood!”

Dear Hottywood,

The relationship I’m in with my girl isn’t going quite the way I imagined it would after dating for a number of months. I still like her. I might even love her, but because we’ve faced so many exhausting challenges, I think I’d be okay whether we stayed together or broke up. This is a Catch 22. My question however isn’t about my relationship. I’m already okay with however that turns out. My question is what is a Catch 22?

Thanks in advance,

Boy Don’t Read

Dear Boy Don’t Read

Catch 22_3First of all, Boy Don’t Read, I need you to read something. It’s good for your mind. I sure as hell hope you read this because I’m a lazy mofo and today I’m in lazy mode, but my readers come before anything, even my laziness…well, except bacon…and God…and ass (not necessarily in that order). Okay, now moving on to your question.

Wait, before we begin, let me wish you luck on things with your girl. I’m a big sarcastic sap and I love love. With that said I’m hoping you two can get your shit together and remember why it is you started dating in the first place. Also, don’t lie to yourself. If you’re not happy, then move on. If you’re unsure then listen to my first suggestion and try to remember why you started dating in the first place.

Okay, NOW on to your question.

There is a whole hard-to-understand definition of Catch 22 plastered all over the internet. Instead of giving you a bunch of words and rules that you’ll need a translator to comprehend, lemme break it down to you by saying “You’re damned if you do and damned if you don’t,” or “you’re screwed either way.”  That’s the simplest way of defining a Catch 22.

Catch 22 1

  • A situation where a choice comes down to two unfavorable options, and either way is not a win.
  • A situation where you have two possible choices, either of which will have negative ramifications for you.
  • A no-win dilemma or paradox.
  • A situation or predicament characterized by absurdity or senselessness.
  • Quite the predicament; where objective 1 cannot be obtained without the completion of objective 2, which cannot be obtained without objective 1, because of a set of often incoherent rules or laws.
  • Heads I win. Tails you lose.

catch 22_2

The term Catch 22 was first introduced in the 1961 novel, “Catch 22” (written by Joseph Heller) which describes absurd bureaucratic constraints on soldiers in World War II. The term, in relation to the book, invokes “Catch 22” to explain why any pilot requesting mental evaluation for insanity—hoping to be found not sane enough to fly and thereby escape dangerous missions—demonstrates his own sanity in making the request and thus cannot be declared insane. This phrase also means a dilemma or difficult circumstance from which there is no escape because of mutually conflicting or dependent conditions.

It’s been suggested that the idea of a “Catch-22” has gained popular currency because so many people in modern society are exposed to frustrating bureaucratic logic.

“Everyone, then, who deals with organizations, understands the bureaucratic logic of Catch-22. In high school or college, for example, students can participate in student government, a form of self-government and democracy that allows them to decide whatever they want, just so long as the principal or dean of students approves. This bogus democracy that can be overruled by arbitrary fiat is perhaps a citizen’s first encounter with organizations that may profess ‘open’ and libertarian values, but in fact are closed and hierarchical systems. Catch-22 is an organizational assumption, an unwritten law of informal power that accepts the organization from responsibility and accountability, and puts the individual in the absurd position of being accepted for the convenience or unknown purposes of the organization.” – James E. Combs and Dan D. Nimmo

“Damned if I do and damned if I don’t.”

“Heads I win. Tails you lose.” 


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