​#MNR: $788M (WE NEED THIS MONEY, GOD)
 
“We need this money, God, we penetrate through the out states. Time’s short, fuck that Mic, let’s motivate.”
Mic Geronimo/Royal Flush/O.C.
 
The Mega Millions lottery is damn near 800 milli. My guy Pennington told me that the take after taxes is like $440M. NIGGA...I don’t know how my pastor would react to a cashier’s check for $44M, but that’s the first move. I’m serious about my tithes. Actually, I’d probably split $33M of that amongst the three churches of my lifetime: First Baptist in Bridgehampton, New Arbor in South Boston and Truth & Deliverance in Englewood. The remaining $11M would go to diverse charities and a plot of land somewhere in Englewood to build a recreation center/safe spot for my babies. They deserve one and it’s long overdue.
 
I know the odds are like one in a gazillion, but a brother can dream, can’t he?
 
And please know...if and when I win that thang, I’m showing up to the lottery office in Trenton in a Nike shiesty (that’s a ski mask to the unlearned) and a pair of Ray-Bans. IN-COG-NE-GRO. Please put Tyrone X on the big ass check, Mr. Lottery Man. Coloreds, do me one small favor: DO NOT call my line. Please and thank you. I ain’t got it.
 
It’s been so damn hot outside the past week or so...I could be lying, but yesterday, I saw a Greyhound full of atheists break down in front of a church. After 20 minutes of no air conditioning in 97 degrees heat with 100% humidity...out of 50 atheists, 12 of those non-believing MF went into a Black church with central air and gave their lives to the Lord that same day. Nigga, it’s that hot.
 
And yes...it was so damn hot that the greyhound on the side of the bus took his ass inside the bus and sat in the front seat that the driver doesn’t allow anyone to sit in. The dog said it was THAT hot outside. As soon as the bus broke down the dog broke out to Mackay Park and hopped the pool fence in a single bound. He sho’ nuff got a private session in. When he finished, he took his ass to the nearby ASPCA for the evening. Last I heard he was going in-person this morning to file an unemployment claim in the Sack.
 
IT'S THAT HOT.
 
I hope unemployment doesn’t shit on that doggie. They damn sure shit on me whenever I try to claim a week. Fuck ‘em.
 
It only took two and a half years, but damn it, I am now an owner of a new PlayStation 5. And yes nigga, it’s the disc version. How else would I watch my old DVDs?
 
SO BEGINS MY PS5 RANT...
 
It’s a damn shame that the 5 has been out since November 2019 yet a great percentage of those who wish to purchase one for retail are still unable to because of extremely limited supplies. We know that many of the complications were birthed by the pandemic and all the bullshit that came with it. Cool. We understand. But I still feel like it’s bullshit that you have to damn near win the lottery for the chance to cop a 5 for retail even though the product is almost three years old. $650-$800 for a new 5 via resell? Non-cipher. No can do. I’m not paying two to three hun extra to get a new 5.
 
So...how did I get a new PS5 for retail? By being thorough, of course. I just happened to be on the PlayStation site, checking to see if they somehow had some in stock. Of course, they didn’t. But what they did have was [basically] a raffle for the opportunity to purchase one for retail. I figured I didn’t have a thing to lose. I filled out the required information. Last Tuesday, they sent me an email to notify me that I’d won the chance to cop one the next day. There was a six-hour window, so I already knew that there would be plenty in stock. You don’t have a six-hour window if there’s only 20 units in stock. Moreover, there was no chance to bot because PS would only allow one purchase per household. Plus, if you’d already copped one through the PS site you were ineligible. I sat in a waiting room for less than 20 minutes. They had already sold out of the disc units, so I had to cop a bundle. By the way, Horizon Forbidden West isn’t that bad. I’M THANKFUL.
 
It's a good thing to see that gas prices are going down (for the moment). It’s as absurd as it is surreal that I’m mentioning falling gas prices when the average cost per gallon in New Jersey is still in the four-teens and twenties. But it beats $4.99 & 9/10 every time. It’s left me quite pensive because even though we’re seeing relief at the pump, everything else is showing that a recession is imminent. Even though this sucks ass, it kind of plays into my three-year plan anyway. We’ll be up out this recession within two to three years, the precise time in which we will be “ready” to purchase a home. Shouts to my sis Jon-Jon on her recent purchase. I’m trying to be what 74% of Black folk never are: a homeowner.
 
Check out my folk Kim Pfeifer and her company Graceful Roots. She teaches yoga, dance and wellness. She’s fly and she knows her shit. They’re located in Fair Lawn, but you can check the technique with a simple Google search. Health is wealth. That includes mental, spiritual and emotional health in addition to the physical. Tell her Monday sent you.
 
Keep grinding. I don’t care who you are, how much money you make, nada. Keep grinding. Put a penny or two to the side for a rainy day. Give the Lord his lil piece of change. He doesn’t ask for much. If you don’t trust the pastor or the church, give to valid charities. You can never lose with St. Jude’s. Help save sick babies. Support the ASPCA. I was taught that we give to receive to give again. I’ve been blessed beyond measure since I bought in.
 
It's time to shake a leg and get up in the wind, sugar. I’m a catch you on the come up. I’ll see you when I see you. Unless you see me first.
 
 
tymonday.com: @tymonday on Twitter & IG
crewunb.com: @crewunB on Twitter & @theunbearablescrew on IG

​#MNR: COCO MANGO 
 
“Baby when I tell you I love you, I mean this life. Baby when I tell you I need you, I mean these lights.”
Camp Lo
 
“I can’t be touched bitch, I disco with kryptonite.”
Redman
 
On rainy days I sit back and craft drafts in 4K. Days like this make me reminisce on when Chubby told me about the times he went in on a 4-way – twice in one day (IYKYK). The imagery blew my brain to bits, similar to the time I listened to Illmatic, the first day. It inspired me to lace my ACGs and go get it – with no delay.
 
Confession: I’ve been back on the flowers for a month or so. Strong. I’m quite pleased with the reunion.
 
EDIT – I BEGAN THIS BLOG YESTERDAY. IT WAS RAINING LIKE A MF. THUNDER, TOO. SO I WAS ON A DIFFERENT TYPE OF TIME.
 
NAMOND MOMENTS
 
Namond Moments is an eponymous phrase I created that sums up when I experience a certain type of moment in this wonderful life. For those who are unaware, the Namond I’m referring to is Namond Brice (played by Julito McCullum), fictitious West Baltimore eighth grade student at Edward J. Tilghman Middle School in the GOAT television series The Wire. He’s the son of Roland “Wee-Bey” Brice (played by Hassan Johnson), infamous, respected and feared enforcer for the Barksdale Organization. Even though Namond acts the part of Wee-Bey's son, he’s nothing like his father. He’s softer than baby shit. But anyway...the moment I took my bookmark from came when Namond was asked by two classmates to stand outside the bathroom door and look out while they took a smoochie into one of the stalls to – do some good old algebra. Namond held them down (for the most part). A few days later (and after the vitriol and ridicule that comes from smutting in a public-school bathroom stall), ole girl flipped the script and accused the boys of epar (use your head). Namond saw her in the vice principal’s office crying crocodile tears as she talked to the VP and the authorities. Namond simply walked by, gave a 3.5 second glare and continued walking to wherever he had to go. I immediately discerned his exact feelings. Shit was fucked up OD but won’t shit he could do about it. So, in the words of my guy O.C., he let it slide – he let it slide and he walked on by. I can’t even count how many times I’ve had Namond Moments in my life, continuing through the present day. And I’m talmbout real shit. I already know what it is when I see what’s going down. But ain’t a damn thing I can do about it. C’est la vie. I can’t fake, though. That shit really hurts sometimes. The legend Brad “Scarface” Jordan said it best: “I often wish that I could save everyone, but I’m a dreamer.” Since Shareon transcended, I’m not at all apathetic, I’m just not nearly as empathetic. Nine outta ten that MF had it coming. “I seen the realest niggas get murdered, and they deserved it.” Queen Lauryn Hill said it better than I ever could. I concur with Lauryn. Her third cousin NORE added to the discussion when he exclaimed, “You hate the law, nigga break it. I don’t care. But when you get caught, remember that I don’t care.” It is what it is. But damn, sometimes I wish I had a rewind button. RIP P.R. We’re going on 19 years that you’ve been in the essence.
 
I miss my nigga. I miss all my niggas. But since my mother passed, I mostly shed tears through the keyboard. They don’t fall out of my eyes too tough anymore. It’s not that I’m some tough guy. I’m just more understanding and accepting of mortality. Throw in calamity, too.
 
FOR MY TRUE THE WIRE FANS
 
Who noticed that one of the boys that got hemmed up fucking with that smoochie was a perp sitting in the box (interrogation room) for a body on Season 5? He was one of the boys the detectives ran that old play of divide, feed one of the boys, lie to the other boy about the food being a reward for cooperation to trick him into thinking his man snitched on him, which causes the unfed boy to believe the chicanery and confesses to the body (implementing boffum, of course). Wicked shit.
 
Women and police play games.
 
Shut up. I know that was a long-ass sentence, but just read it as if I were telling it to you while you were sitting shotgun twisting a Philly in a gravy stain colored two-door ’91 Tercel. Hot ass day. No AC. Windows ROLLED down. 103 percent humidity. Sweat bubbling up on both our foreheads, but mine much more so cuz I have a 6.5 head.
 
Kih my aah if you laughed at my 6.5.
 
I’m tired of seeing you lightweight, lazy copy editors allow all these news articles (posts) to be published containing all types of simple errors. YOU HAD ONE JOB!!! Are y’all proofreading while watching a dirty website on the split screen? Seriously – are you shaking one off under the desk? Are you high? Are you dumb (Remy Ma voice)? You sommabitches blow mine. Consistently. I’m telling ya. Just wait until Indeed sends me an indeed for a copy editor job at your media. I’m coming for ya. I’m a run you down like Jerome ran the SUV down on that episode of Martin where they won the raffle for the jeep and then proceeded to [accidently] fuck it up over the course of the episode. And yes, I’m fucking your left rearview ALL the way up, just like Romey Rome did. Then I’m a come up to your office (even if you work at the crib) and knock some shit off your desk, a la Steve and Cedric on The Steve Harvey Show. I’m like that.
 
Sometimes, you just gotta pass the reefa to yourself.
 
It scuffs my Nikes when MF hate on a Black movie because some critic or actor talked down on it. This ain’t for my white folk. I’m talking to us. You niggas stay hating on another person’s progress. You don’t need to do all that. You niggas HATED on House Party 3. Run that hoe back and look at Bernard Jeffrey McCullough’s performance. He KILLED EVERY scene he was in. The dinner table scene with Reynaldo Rey is LEGENDARY. MF hated to 100% capacity on Soul Plane. I didn’t forget. Our own folk hated on it. The funny part is that Kevin (Hart) was nowhere near the level of fame he’s gone on to achieve. I wonder if he holds grudges (hand on chin emoji). I loved both movies. Once again, you MF gotta stop career hating on your own folk. Willie Lynch ass MF. Try showing some genuine love to your people. We gotta stop this shit. Not every chain the colonizer placed on us was physical. The strongest, most durable chains and restraints placed on us were mental. They have only grown stronger. But I’m not selling any damn chicken dinners to fundraise for unity. All I got for you is Matthew 7:12. That’s the Golden Rule, for those who aren’t versed. I’m quite confident that if we begin there, we are on the path to something better than what we have. And if that doesn’t work, just stay the fuck from ‘round me. Please and thank you.
 
Now, I know some of y’all are thinking “damn, that nigga went hard over two damn nondescript ass movies,” and I did. But damn it, I said what I said.
 
On that note, I’m a tip my fat ass smooth up out of here. I told y’all I was gonna be all over the place.
 
I dedicate this blog to all the people who threw cookouts that I attended and ate at uninvited.
 
tymonday.com: @tymonday on Twitter & IG
crewunb.com: @crewunB on Twitter & @theunbearablescrew on IG