Why Chipotle’s Guacamole is so fucking expensive.

“Seven dollars and eighty five cents is your total sir.” The young woman said, positioned behind the cash register.

“Oh, I’m sorry… I had guacamole with that.” I said reluctantly, glancing up and making eye contact with the young woman…a bead of sweat drops off my brow.

“Oh..” She says while nervously pressing buttons on the cash register.

“Your total…your total, oh wow your total is…three thousand dollars and eight five cents sir.” The young woman stammers nearly in tears.

The restaurant went quiet nothing was heard but a babies muffled cries as the mother tries to comfort the child.

“Three thousand dollars?” I asked in astonishment…

“…and eighty five cents, sir.” The young woman nervously replied.

“Can I speak to your manager? This is ridiculous.” I said suppressing my growing anger.

“Yes, sir one second.” The young woman said.

“FELICIA! FELICIA!” yelled the young woman behind her.


“We need you up front…its about the guacamole again.”

“Oh fuck me.”

From the back of the kitchen came a gargantuan woman who looked about to be a pick up truck size wide and about five feet tall, she waddled up to the front breathing heavily sweating profusely as she made her way up, double chin jiggling in cadence to her footsteps.

“What the fuck do YOU want.” She pointed at me, spit flying everywhere.

Wiping the spit from my face I began to speak.

“Ma’am I was just trying to find out why I’m being charged three thousand dollars for this burrito.”

“Because you got guacamole, you dumb fuck.” Felicia responded.

“I still think three thousand dollars is ludicrous to be charge for…avocados isn’t gol…”

“Regular avocados that is what you mean, these avocados… this guacamole isn’t for mere mortals to the likes of you.” Felicia said cutting me off.

“Then what the fuck makes them so expensive?” I said slamming my hands on the counter. Gasps were heard everywhere in the room, the once crying baby stopped and appeared to be listening in as well.

The fat woman stood and stared around the room with menacing eyes.

The man next to me put his hand on my shoulder and said “Hey man, its okay we could all like pitch in.” Slow reassuring nods throughout the restaurant were made.

“No!” I shouted.

“I’m tired of getting fucked by this organization! You owe us an explanation lady!” I said pointing my figure back to Felicia.

“Fine.” Felicia said.

Felicia turns to the young cashier.

“Dim the lights.”

“It’s time you all know the truth.” Felicia said turning into the growing crowd.

I looked around in astonishment all races, all creeds, all colors, men, women alike, fire fighters, doctors, and policemen all fell silent to listen to the story.

Felicia leaned forward bracing her hands on the counter…trembling mouthing out words with no sound and then finally.

“Many, many, good people died for our avocados.” Felicia said holding back tears.

“I will never get to hold my husband again.” Felicia said finally breaking.

The young cashier moves to comfort her.

Drying the tears from her eyes using her stretched out shirt she begins to speak.

“We train tough men for this mission, all of them mercenaries usually former Special Forces soldiers from the United States Army. Sometimes we pull from other sources but those guys never make it, usually most of them don’t anyway.” Felicia said softly.

“Jesus, how much are you paying these guys?” I asked.

“Depends on their past experience but usually Fifty five thousand to sixty thousand dollars per trip. It’s good money sure… but the risk they take is extraordinary.” Felicia said.

“Most of these guys are harden men but they never come back the same, if at all. The location of our avocados is in San Pedro Sula, Honduras the most dangerous city in the world. If our men make it past of the hordes of gangs willing to kill Americans on sight, they still have to retrieve the avocados in a scared location that I cannot disclosed for fear of my life.” Felicia said slowly.

“It’s that serious?” I asked confusingly.

“I’m afraid so, Chipotle has a standing hit on any employee that discloses this information. This goes beyond to the highest levels of government. I don’t know where the trail ends, but it doesn’t matter anyway even if people did know the location. There still resides that mon….monster.” Felicia said trembling.

“What is it?” I asked inquisitively.


Everybody in the restaurant seemed to lean in closer.

“It’s…it’s Honey Boo Boo’s mother.” Felicia said fighting back the tears.

“She just doesn’t stop eating, she’s impervious to bullets, bombs, and chemical warfare. Practically everything we throw at her. When the men get there, they don’t even have a slight chance.” Felicia said sobbing loudly.

“Why…why do you do this?” I ask shocked.

“Here at Chipotle we are required to only prepare our food with the freshest of ingredients. Thats the Chipotle initiative to best serve the customer to his or hers wants or needs.” Felicia said sobbingly

“Well…alright then.” I said extending out my debit card in one hand.

“Thank you come back soon.” Felicia said sobbing even louder.

May we never forget those who gave their lives in honor for this guacamole that smears my burrito tonight. Each bite I took was a painful reminder of those lost to the vicious Honey Boo Boo’s, each bite I cried a little bit more realizing how selfless those men were. If only there were more Americans like them, maybe this would be a better nation…hell maybe a better world.

But I do know one thing.

That was the best damn burrito I ever had in my life.


Great Gifts for shitty children!

It’s six am on christmas eve, you had forgotten you had kids up until this point. They had been barely keeping themselves alive with trashed scrapes of ramen noodles and plastic cups with left over beer from the massive kegger you had last night. You think to yourself how did I become such a cool parent? I’m never in my child’s lives. Then you realize you fucked up, you didn’t buy them any gifts for christmas.

While the only hope the children have of you are some kick ass gifts you think to yourself, man I don’t know these people at all. In fact you even start to question if these are your children since they are so ugly looking and gross. No worries they probably are, all children are gross and ugly looking despite how those commercials depict them.

Now what? You immediately log in your computer being careful to exit out of that midget porn you were watching last night. You get on wordpress and search hipsters…hipsters….hipsters on wheels! You remember suddenly that deviously handsome young man with biceps the size of the Sears Towers. “He must have advice for me somewhere” you think to yourself, yes…yes I do wanderer welcome to my blog. Here’s some good gift ideas for your shitty children.

A Pellet Gun!


Teach your children the most awesomest freedom of America, GUNS. Start them off slow with a pellet gun and work your way up to M107 Barrett .50 Sniper Rifle in one day. Use your neighbors pets & children as target practice, believe me no one cares for them. On the flip side if you don’t like your kids leave them alone in the park for awhile, maybe an hour at tops before an officer of the law to shoots your children dead!

A Funny T-Shirt!


This method will only work if you have two mistakes instead of just one. Have both mistakes wear this T-shirt and stand face to face to each other silently looking into each others eyes until they get it. Once they both realized they aren’t loved predictably they’ll cry since children are weak willed and are easily agitated, thats when you let them know they can be dropped off at a fire department at anytime no questions asked!

A Razor Blade!


Perfect gift for your emotional teenager who can’t seem to get it right, although this can be an acceptable gift for all ages. You’re going to want an individual that tumblrs so they can make sixteen thousands posts and upload a couple songs of spill canvas before they do the deed.
Nothing says I hate you and kill yourself better than a gifted razor blade!

A Hallmark Card!

Just a simple hallmark card don’t leave any money or any extra writing to it, leave it bare minimum ideally make sure you use the wrong gender for you children..i.e. daughter gets a “great son” gift card and your son gets “thanks for being a faggot” gift card. Good gifting since it teaches them right away in a slow matter the harsh realites in life, where nobody is seriously going to think of them that much when choosing a gift.


A great gift if they are stupid and still believe in Santa Clause, but an even better gift if they don’t. Imagine the face your young teenager will make looking at you questioning if he is experiencing reality, there you are sitting high and smug with your fresh pot of vodka you warmed up this morning. “Sorry son, looks like you’ve been a piece of shit this year as well!”

In conclusion these gifts above are cheap, relatively easy to obtain, and your children will love you for them. If you really don’t want to go out of your way to buy gifts this year, don’t. There is always next year and what does it matter, they’re probably sending you to nursing home anyway. Got to win when you can is what my father used to always say when he gave me these gifts, and did I become a better man? No. But thats besides the point.



Being first generation in America comes with its challenges on its own, being a first generation black man in this country is difficult. I never once identified with a culture, I’m some sort of hybrid between an Ethiopian, my skin color, and how I was raised which was neighborhoods of mostly caucasian individuals.

In all my life though I haven’t never forgotten I am black. Multiple instances in my life it had always came up in question. Whether it was me not fitting in stereotypical roles of a black man, or to me not being obviously welcomed in some places because the color of my skin.

Despite how much I want to separate myself from my physical appearance it always comes down to one thing, I’m black or I should say nigger. Totally non-human no name just a derogatory blanket term for all black people even though all of us individually greatly differ from one another. It doesn’t matter where you are from if you are a dark skinned individual you fall under this category as well.

Recent events have shown the true colors of some people in this nation and to turn around and say racism doesn’t exist is nonsense, we have made great strides since the start of the civil rights movement of course but we still have people hidden in the shadows on forums more than willing to call the President of The United States of America a dirty fucking nigger.

You don’t have to look far to see this type of behavior on popular sites like reddit & twitter you’ll see these sites bombarded with black hate, openly. At least reddit has some sort of anonymity to it (as if that makes it better) but on twitter people proudly claim the hatred for black people right next to their display picture as if saying “fuck you, I’m proud of my statement.”

The prime time to see this in action will be in February during of course black history month. Tons of people have to chip in with their two cents on how much they hate black people and how we should all go back to Africa. Comparisons to apes, the black jokes, to sometimes even violent crimes are just brought out. Does that make sense to you?

I’m not justifying the riots in Ferguson there’s no question in my mind that it was more destructive than good and served as a confirmation to people’s bias towards blacks, also I’m sure a good bit of the participates were in it for purely nefarious reasons. That doesn’t change the fact there is unrest within black America, and that was small expression of that. I rather have a riot like that than the many riots that happen after big sports wins which are completely trivial in comparison.

google it


I’m not looking for any apologist and nobody is or should be, you shouldn’t feel bad about being white, mexican, asian, green or orange.

We all live hard lives, we all die and get buried somewhere six feet under while worms eat at us. The only way we can ever move past this is we stop getting suckered into race and we shame the media for portraying it one way or another.

Bob Ross, The Last Great American.

Bob Ross pictured on the left befriends a squirrel through his art.
Bob Ross pictured on the left befriends a squirrel through his art.

Bob motherfucking Ross is the man, the buddha, the jesus, the muhammad, the katy perry. He was the best qualities of all these people and more, he best represented humanity in a way that we should constantly strive for.

A lot of my friends say hey High Lord Philmon why are you so gay for Bob Ross, and before I send them to the lions for being disrespectful pieces of dog shit, I explain to them this…what isn’t to love?


First and foremost look at that hair
Look… as a man who has attempted and succeeded to grow an afro, my hair was never so big, so soulful, and so intimidatingly awesome. I’m positive Bob Ross was born with an afro intact. Rumor has it his mother was a virgin that was inseminated by the ghost of coolness, thus brought Bob Ross to this world.

He painted amazing landscapes seamlessly.

When was the last time you drawn anything worth while? If you are like most… the answer is probably never because your drawings sucked and your mom wanted to take it off the refrigerator so much but was afraid you’d ask about it, and she’d tell you that you were adopted or a mistake without thinking about it out of anger.

He has to be the reincarnation of buddha
That quote resonates within me and should resonate within you as well. How long have we spent thinking about all the places in life we have fallen short of, instead of moving on and seeing how to makes you grow in a different way you intended.

No regrets only life lessons bitches.

He served time in the military
Twenty years in the Air Force and retiring at the rank of Master Sergeant he knows how to deal with bullshit with a resilient attitude. For the tree hugging extreme left winged liberals who hate the armed forces, suck a dick these people have done more for this country than you’d ever do.Go eat some gluten-free asshole and talk about how you like listening to records on vinyl.

To bring my points to a close Bob Ross should be celebrated, his birthday should be a federal holiday and we should all dress up like him, walk the streets and have a massive orgy. Thats what he would want, to see love transpire into the physical plus I’m hitting a dry spell. His face should be craved into the side of Mt. Rushmore, even though South Dakota has a population of twelve. We should raise up a statue five hundred feet tall with one hand on a M4 another on a paint brush.

Fat acceptance

What the fucking fuck.

Hello America, its your favorite allegedly black man and chances you are in love with me don’t worry we can date.

I haven’t wrote in a long time but this topic of interest compelled me so much that I felt the need to log on to my nearest computer to express my thoughts on a subject that isn’t brought out enough, I should say actually a point of view although I’m sure that many feel my sentiments in these next few sentences.

Fat acceptance is probably one of the most ridiculous movements I have ever heard in a long time, and let me get one thing clear it’s never right to treat people like shit based on looks. Although, equally its not fucking right to try to spread delusions such as fat can be healthy. Unless of course you don’t count heart disease, stroke, pregnancy issues, depression, sleep apnea, cholecystitis and many more. Trying to spread disinformation to make yourself feel better is doing a disservice fuck, injustice to the youth of America today.

Look I had been on both sides of the coin I had been fat as well, when I was younger I would find some sort of excuse for it like my metabolism was bad, that I was big boned, and various other bullshit excuses for me to escape my own reality. Truthfully, I was just fat and found physical activity undesirable so the next reasonable thing in my mind is that I go bulimic and lose the weight. I definitely lost tons of weight, I was also definitely not in a good place besides the fact that I was constantly tired still hungry and my mouth always tasted like vomit. Shortly after I gained all that weight back and more, how awesome right?

Then 2010 happened some major changes in my life occurred and I was actually forced to conduct physical activities. I lost the weight and felt better not only that but I had even began to start enjoying being physically active, a couple years later I started attending gyms and partaking in weight training fell in love & became addicted to the life style.

Nothing worth having is ever easy and life is never fair don’t expect to bend this outlook on “society” because you don’t want to change. Yes, you don’t owe it to anybody but you do owe it to yourself and if you can’t recognize that I fail to see how you do respect yourself. That might be just my issue but the fact of the matter is I have been on that side.

Notice in the image above the woman who posted that Facebook status called the two girls sluts immediately after noticing they themselves weren’t large girls. How is that not as judgmental as the treatment I hear so often on the other side of the bridge? The sad part is there’s thousands of examples of these circulating around the internet. If you want to be fat & proud thats okay go forth and be merry but don’t do that in expense of putting others down, all that shows is your own insecurities about yourself.

So now what?

If you’re still reading and this applies to you I have few places to start if you’re willing and you must be willing.

Set up goals… your goals should be non-cosmetic I find that when people typically want to work-out to look good they typically stop when they start looking better, and then they are back to where they started.

Ask, ask, ask… don’t be nervous to ask questions to people who obviously know what they are doing, and observe what other people are doing. To this day I still learn new ways to work out different muscle groups and new ways of thinking.

Don’t be afraid of looking stupid everybody looks stupid when they are whole heartily engaged in anything. Lose sense of yourself put on headphones and listen to some good music, or a podcast get yourself immersed in what you’re doing. Most of the time everybody else is too busy to pay attention to you.

Lastly as cliché as this sounds have fun with it nobody says it has to be shitty, do things you enjoy whether that is running, lifting, swimming, or biking just know you get out what you put in. If you put in half ass attempts you’ll get half ass results don’t cheat yourself when it hurts and it’ll pay dividends in the future.

J.Cole – Losing My Balance

Bitchin’ about Bitchin’

There is a multitude of issues within the United States Army which I believe in good faith extends to the rest of the military as well. Other than the seas of fat fuckers who shove themselves into a uniform that doesn’t quite fit on the daily basis, leadership who prove almost dangerously incompetent of performing their jobs, the use of out-dated broken equipment and other unmentionables. The main issue in the Army today is the major disconnect between being a man/woman in some situations and a child in other situations let me elaborate.

Take Private GoFuckYourself, Private GoFuckYourself is a proud chest-beating human warrior out in the rural areas of Afghanistan. Private GoFuckYourself is entrusted with a M240B a 7.62mm linked crew served machine gun capable of laying down the hate on poor skinny fuckers wielding AK-47s & RPGS who are maneuvering to actively try to murder you and your friends on the field of battle. Private GoFuckYourself is expected to handle a firefight accordingly as I.E. a FUCKING MAN. This young eighteen year old stud who isn’t capable of growing any facial hair yet performs as such and returns home victorious from his long combat tour.

Now lets take the same Private back in garrison on United States soil or territory, lets dress him up in a nice clean uniform clean haircut standing tall and pretty for all the higher ups to get a boner watching.

It’s Friday his first weekend home last formation of the day but before they depart for the weekend of much deserved time of, these young studs like Private GoFuckYourself have to stand and be attentive to a thirty minute safety brief of all the shit they can’t do. Such as don’t drink and drive, don’t hit your wife, don’t hit your kids, don’t hit your fish, don’t fuck your dog, don’t swim and drink & so on & so on…


^ I was being serious.

While all these things are important to not do you could accurately summarize this list once with DON’T DO STUPID SHIT OR YOU’LL FACE CONSEQUENCES. 

At this point you’re probably saying but “Mister So/so if that guy still fucked a dog isn’t this important?” 


Treating everybody like a child doesn’t solve this problem this philosophy proves majorly ineffective and all this hand holding is only for covering commands ass from up higher, nobody actually gives a shit about what you do. Rather its only if one would get caught and major implications surrounding that unit/brigade/division/corp whatever.

Approaching a problem like this with a solution above is sort of like taking pain medication everyday because of a chronic headache that you had never seen a doctor about but, even that is less stupid than this.

The solution for all this would ideally be stop letting underperformers/ troublemakers in the army. 

A continuing solution for this is identify the problem child and if the situation presents themselves kick them out don’t drag it out let them go. 

This is an organization run by the youth of America but this doesn’t mean at all they are children, I have met more eighteen year olds today in the military that are way more mature and set on life than some people I know at twenty six. 
and I suck at blogging,


Fuck You.

Insincerely Yours,

Neighborhood Black Man.

This too shall pass

I have been more scattered brain than ever lately can’t seem to keep focus in my thoughts and slowly I’m losing the ambition or the motivation that kept me trudging forward. 

“This too shall pass.”

An adage I recently stumbled on although I feel like I should have known this for all of my life but yet I did not. Anyhow all events will come to past, all relations, all pain, all pleasure, man fucking every thing will have an ending point or maybe you will end before it does. 

Nothing really eye opening but I like thinking about things like this, makes me feel grounded I guess or not carried away by petty things but I’m human sometimes I do. 

No one could be strong 24/7 365 but you can fake the funk. 

One day it won’t really matter no more anyway. 

I want some damn pizza already.