mobb blog log

electric word life, it means forever and that's a mighty long time, but i'm here to tell you there's something else...this blog.

April 3, 2014 12:20 pm

Lester and Silk roll cigarettes, talk about  basketball team names, a weird dating ritual. Text messaging. voice mail. internet porn. Amy Grant. wrist watches. all in ten minutes. 

March 17, 2014 4:00 pm

Destiny’s child vs. the wu tag clan (fan fiction)

Its been ten years since the release of Destiny’s Child farewell album; Destiny Fulfilled. To celebrate the anniversary, Sony Records booked a concert at the Barclay Center in Brooklyn, New York to celebrate the milestone. The girls, Michelle, Kelly, and Beyonce had not performed with each other since the Super Bowl 47 Half time show in 2013 Where the Ravens beat the 49ers. Kelly was building an international fan base with her dance club vibe. Beyonce just shocked the world with a self financed secretly released visual album and Michelle just got her eyebrows waxed at the mall. The ladies were picked up from their hotel in Williamsburg and shuttled over to the arena, by limo, early in the morning.

Their liaison, Eduardo De La Mucho, met the trio and scuttled them through the parking lot into the back entrance past an already burgeoning crowd of fans camping out in tents, sleeping bags, and trailers all decorated with images of the girls singing and whirling amiss airbrush images of the Milky Way. Although, the girls were inconspicuously dressed in trench coats, dark shoes and a vail of nondescript ball caps; they failed to allude their voracious fans, yelling and jockeying for their attention: “Kelly, I love you girl, keep repping for us co-co skin sistas, girl!” “Bey!! Bey!! Bey!! I love you Bae!!” Oh girl I wish I was you girl, I do, cept, I wouldn’t be with no damn Jay-Z, doe, girl! I know he got all the money but I couldn’t, with his camel lookin’ ass!! “Blue Ivy cute and all, but bestiality is a crime against God and nature, girl!” “Michelle…Michelle… it’s me yo cousin Sweet Meat, your mother said give her a call, your half of the cell phone bill is due. She said,If you ain’t wanna do your part, you shouldn’t have signed up for the framily plan, Michelle.”

Once inside they meet up with their celebrity Manager, Nigel Cumberbatch, E! corespondent and first cousin of actor Benedict Cumberbatch.

"Hello, Nigel, you look marvelous, darling." purred Michelle.

"That’s because I’m looking at you, love." 

They embrace and share a friendly kiss on both cheeks.

"A little sugar with my mocha always gets me up in the morning, love."

"Oh, stop it."

I can’t, love, you’ve already got me started.”

"Why are you here so early? you’re not due in until this afternoon for sound check.:" asked a quizzical Beyonce.

"I had an interview for the network  with the cast of "Real Housewives of Rikers Island. Since i’m in the neighborhood why not stop by."

"Who knew a show about prison man-wives would be so incredibly popular?" said Michelle. 

"Yes, well you take the momentum of the Real housewives brand, everyone’s obsession with queer culture, and mix it up with the urban grittiness of prison life and you’ve got a ratings juggernaut. This show is literally too gay to fail."  Nigel said with a wry smirk. 

"Speaking of…" free falling into cursory though.

"Where is MY personal assistant? He was supposed to come in early this morning and set up your dressing rooms.

I’ve been texting him since six to no avail.” said the liaison, who up until this point had been quietly busying himself updating the Destiny Child website. Actually, that’s what he was supposed to be doing. He’d finished all of that an hour ago. At this point he was trolling Tinder and Grinder for any hot clerks around the arena who may be cleaning out the bathrooms or working the hot dog stand.  

"So who decorated the dressing rooms?" asked Nigel 

"I did," cheered Michelle. 

"Shelly, You didn’t have to do this." said Beyonce, nonplussed. 

"Just happy to help, guys." 

"That’s peculiar, I just spoke with Kevin last night. Everything seemed fine. I hope nothing happened to him." Stated Nigel with model concern.

"Kel-vin’s a really sweet guy." said Michelle, exerting extra effort on the "elvin" in a subtle attempt to correct Nigel on his mispronunciation of the interns name.    

"Yes," replied Nigel picking up the clue. 

"Kelvin, stopped taking his Wellbutrin ever since he didn’t get that callback for the live action Jem and the Holograms movie, Truly Outrageous. Very dissonant murmurs of suicide,and not Facebook suicide, real life suicide."

"I’m sure it will work out. Things always work out; at least for me they do." reasoned Beyonce 

"Do you like the wall draping Bey?" Asked Michelle 

"I got them in Beijing. They’re fresh spun silk from virgin worms. The color is called Red Velvet."

"Like the cake?" asked Beyonce.

"Just like the cake." answered Michelle.

"Lets blow out these $5,000, diamond studded, champagne scented candles and adjourn to the stage." Nigel blows out one and speaks before whistling out the other Luxury Soy Candle. 

"Let’s save the fire for the stage, shall we?"

The girls traverse the corridor and Kelly lets loose a sly chortle. 

"Hey guys, you ever see that movie "This is Spinal Tap? It used to come on t.v. all the time."

"I don’t own a t.v." Sulked Michelle. 

"I own a t.v.,I mean I own like ten of them, but I’m so busy being on t.v. that I guess i really don’t have time to watch t.v." said Beyonce

"Why do you ask?" 

"There’s this scene where the band is trying to get to the stage but they keep getting lost, in like, a labyrinth of corridors. It’s hilarious" Kelly said with glee.

"Getting lost isn’t funny." Warned Beyonce

"Getting lost is scary." Said Michelle with a passive whine. 

The girls took position and the sound engineer qued the instrumental track for the albums biggest hit; “Lose My Breath”. 

Practice plodded on for an hour and it was clear the girls were out of sync since the year and some change they performed on that triumphant day the Baltimore Ravens won the shit out of Super Bowl 47.

"Alright darlings," cringed Nigel. "this officially an Asian car crash. Let’s take a ten and regroup, yes?" 

"I’ll make a coffee run. What do you want?" asked Eduardo.

"I’ll have a grande black tea with lemon and honey." said Michelle.

"I’ll have a vente soy half calf latte; one Splenda. beckoned  Beyonce.

"I want a low-fat caramel Macchiatto, extra caramel." replied Kelly with precocious joy. 

Nigel glared at Kelly with noted incredulity. 

"What?!? I’m making up for the extra caramel by getting low fat milk! balked Kelly. 

Nigel exhaled dramatically, raised his trademark eyebrow, and crossed his arms in protest.

"Fine, the regular amount of caramel." she responded with a pout.

Nigel frowned and nodded in continued discontent. 

"No caramel?!"

Nigel smiled tightly and nodded in approval. 

"Fine," Kelly snapped back and smirked.

"But, after the show, I’m gonna have a caramel AND a Vanilla cappuccino. 

Suddenly the overhead lights shut off leaving the girls awash in darkness. The shrieking sound of maniacal screams echoed through the arena. 

As quickly as the lights wiped out; the overhead spot pierced through the sheet of onyx to reveal an upstage silhouette creeping through the shadows.   

"Help!" shrieked Michelle, reduced to tears; cradling herself on the floor. "I’ve been molested." she babbled. 

"Look!" squawked Beyonce. "There’s a mysterious silhouette lurking in the shadows!"

"Let’s get him!" Nigel rallied Eduardo; they ran to apprehend the mysterious figure.   

Eduardo and Nigel cornered and captured what appeared to be the Brooklyn Nets mascot, The Brooklyn Knight. 

"Is that the Brooklyn Nets mascot, the Brooklyn Knight?" queried Kelly.

"Yes.It is." Answered Eduardo, frankly.    

"See?"Eduardo blithely snatched the head off the anonymous violator and turned to face the appalled crowd. "It’s a mask"

Kelly interjected. 

"Look guys!" she directed everyone’s attention to the unmasked marauder. 

"It’s Papa Knowles"

"Daddy!" Beyonce said shocked and repulsed. 

"Why are you dressed up as the Brooklyn Knight, and why are you molesting people?" she asked puzzled and disgusted. 

Papa Knowles lifted his head crowned in shame. He blathered. 

"I’m sorry girls, I didn’t mean to scare ya’ll and fondle Michelle. I just like to show up to ya’ll shows and push Michelle. It’s how I get my jollies these days." 

"See, I told you all I was pushed at the Super Bowl." said Michelle defensively. 

"I really didn’t want to touch you in your nether regions Michelle, I just got disassembled in the darkness." He whimpered. 

"So it wasn’t you who cut the lights off, Daddy"

"No It was not,Bey. Now I really should go because this is more embarrassing than that time I got caught impregnating another woman while still being married to your mother. Can I be your manager again Bey?" 

"No, daddy."

"Well can you call me a cab?"

Just then the lights went black again and a tremulous baritone polluted the stage. When the lights came to, Papa Knowles lay slain in Nigel’s arms. 

"Oh, my gawd, he’s, he’s, he’s dead!" 

Oddly, the women bellowed this refrain in perfect three part harmony. 

Before the women had a chance to mourn their former mentor, a thick tide of smoke came pouring out from the audience. Beyonce noted the pungent aroma. 

"It smells like burning pine needles." Said Beyonce.

"It smells like Snoop Dogg’s dressing room. Said Kelly.

"It smells like the BET Awards" Said Nigel.

"It smell like weed." said Eduardo.

"Bong, Bong, my luscious song birds, what it do beautiful?"

crooned method Man. 

"Oh my goodness, It’s the Wu-Tang Clan!" said Michelle. 

All eight remaining members stood arms akimbo, blunts in mouth, side by side, triumphantly. 

"What are you guys doing here?" 

"We were in town shooting a new Tyler Perry movie," intoned a severely herbalized Raekwon.

 ”Medea Joins the Wu-Tang Clan.” Howled a blazed out Ghostface Killa. 

"Yeah we got a summons on a terrestrial plane that your chi was being disrupted, so we teleported over here to to dissect the math, my queen." 

"See that’s why you my favorite Rza, cause everything you say is confusing, but it sounds lyrical, so it must be poetry." said Kelly, coquettishly.  

"Well we have a show tonight and I shouldn’t have to perform under these conditions. I’m light skinned; I woke up like this." Petitioned Beyonce.

"My experience as an Inspector has taught me that the best way to apprehend a culprit is to divide into groups and explore the area in quadrants, that way we cover the most amount of ground in a shorter amount of time." Theorized the Rebel INS a.k.a. Inspeckta Deck."

"Are you really even an actual inspector, like my first cousin Benedict Cumberbatch, star of the British series, Sherlock?" 

"No, but I’ve seen all the Scooby Doo mysteries."

"How about the Shaggy Doo spin off?"

"Those too."

"Alright people, listen to this man!" 

The Inspeckta divided everyone into clusters and assigned them to different sections of the Barclay Center. They all splintered off and left Papa Knowles festering on the stage in a puddle of his own blood and guts. Eventually morphing into twinkling embers and ascending into the rafters.

Although everyone was supposed to  be hunting down the cloaked culprit, mainly they all just got high and passed out by the concession stand. Beyonce woke up separated from her group and worried the solitude would mark her as easy prey. She trundled the hollow corridor in search of her musical companions. She pressed past a set of doors and tripped over a prop surfboard. When she regained her footing she stood up and locked eyes with:

"Ol’ Dirty Bastard!!"

"How do you do, Miss Beyonce?"

"Oh, shit, ODB, What are you doing here?"

"Oh you know what this is.We in Brooklyn, I’m from Brooklyn, even in death I muthafuckin rep Brooklyn to the fullest!!"

"Are you the one that’s sabotaging our show and killed my daddy?"

"I don’t even understand what you is asking me right now, and what is you doing wit dat surfboard?"

"Yonce blushed and dropped the surfboard. The blunt thud temporarily ceased the awkward silence and offered a chance for Yonce to recover.

"Would you be interested in performing a guest verse during our show tonight?"

 ”But I’ma ghost. How is you gonna pass some shit like that off to the crowd?”

"We’ll tell everyone you’re a hologram, like they did with 2 Pac at  Coachella."

"Yeah, Baby, I’m wit it, but I’m a spirit trapped in the astral plane. In order to cross over to the lucid world I must leave your cerebrum and enter through your body."

"O.k….Wait. Enter my body; is this ghost sex?"

"No! My inserting myself in your scrumptious body has nothing at all to do with sex."

"O.k.,Well I guess it’s O.K. then."

Beyonce takes the ODB into her body and his aura causes her body to rupture and shake.  

As her body continues to tremble she feels a firm grip on her shoulders rattling her back to consciousness. 

"Bey, It’s like ten minutes to curtain. Are you o.k. to perform?

Beyonce took a second to consider if what just conspired actually happened or if it was just a by product of too much Loud. 

The curtain rose to thunderous applause as the overhead announcer introduced the sensual sirens of R&B. 

"Ladies and gentlemen I’d like to introduce ya’ll to a very special and unexpected guest…" 

The crowds excitement could barely be contained the volume  threatening to reduce the Barkley Center to rubble.

 The uproar bled beyond the building, pouring out into the parking lot causing cars and their alarms to rattle and hum. Among the parked vehicles sat a late model yellow checker cab with its wheel man standing astride the driver side door frame. He wore a tattered army jacket, dark aviator sunglasses, and his hair was cut into a Mohawk. It was ancillary Wu-Tang Clan member Cappadonna . He waived his arm in the air and a giant blunt shot from his sleeve. He lit the “L” and inhaled deeply. He moved to the trunk of the cab and opened it up. Kelvin was hog tied and crying on top of a spare tire. Cappuccino, as he was sometimes known, blew second hand blunt smoke into Kelvins face and slammed the trunk. He jumped back into the drivers seat and took another pull of the blunt before turning on the ignition and driving off into the twilight. 


March 7, 2014 10:43 pm

mea culpa by mike smith

I heard you got yourself a new man,
and living in a cabin
upstate in the woods.
You always hated the smog of the city,baby.
I hope the fresh air is treating you good.

March 4, 2014 9:57 pm

Do what thou wilt by: Mike Smith

She always peeling my scabs for blood 

shes always testing me to see what im scared of 

she don’t believe in God

she’s always on her knees but 

she’s not praying to me 

I saw her lurk in the dark 

she’s got a sample of 

my specimen in his and her dolls

She wears a mask like Norma Jean

She sleeps with one eye open and she keeps it on me

She’s Madonna post 1993

She’s a scene

She thinks she’s Alister Crowley

She’s reality T.V.

She howls during sex

She talks with an S

She’s my Queen

So if you see me in a graveyard mumbling a poem

by a bard back from 1719

just recognize it’s not me

i’m possessed by my bitch 

oh my Lord

She worships Satan   

February 12, 2014 12:19 pm

it’s gotta be close to midnight (a short play)

a disheveled man(man1) stands on a bus stop nodding back and forth. Another man(man2) walks up, he appears fastidious and direct.

Man1: Hey man what time is it; what time you got?

Man2: (doesn’t look at a watch) It’s almost midnight.

Man1: Really! Is it?

Man2: It is.

Man1: I thought it was like 7, maybe 8, 8 o’clock. Something like that.

Man2: It is midnight.

Man1: So is it midnight or is it almost midnight?

Man2: When you first asked it was almost midnight. Since you asked it is now midnight.

Man1: Oh, o.k.; see I’m not even sure you not fuckin’ wit me right now brugh cause when I asked, you said it was almost midnight and now you saying it is midnight, but see you aint never looked at cho watch once. So how I know you even know what you talking bout when you tell me you know what the fuck time it is? You aint even utilizing the proper point of references and shit brugh.

Man2: Look sir, I don’t want any trouble, o.k.?

Man1: I don’t want no trouble either. I just want to know if it’s almost midnight, midnight, or 8 o’clock. gotdamn it.

Man2: If the time is so important to you why don’t you have your own watch?

Man1: Cause maybe I do have a watch and it’s broken, maybe I left my watch at the crib. Maybe I gave my watch to someone less fortunate. You don’t know me.

Man2: You’re right. I don’t. Well I didn’t now I fell like I do. Kind of wish I didn’t though.

Man1: Can you just. If you have a watch or a phone with a clock. Tell me what the actual time is, please?

Man2: (pulls out a cell phone) It’s one minute after twelve.

Man1: 12:01?

Man2: 12:01.

Man1: 12:01. See i’ma stop talking to you cause you don’t know what the hell you talking about, brugh.

Man2: Thank You.

February 4, 2014 4:58 pm 4:06 pm
January 19, 2014 9:35 pm

Was thinking of this commercial all day yesterday. Which is odd because i never thought of this product at all before Saturday.  Does anyone remember this?

January 18, 2014 3:34 pm

Band: A Face in the Crowd
Album: ineffective detective
Single: killer clueless
Label: Coffee Run Records
Think: little Richard&surf punk undertow of new wave

January 15, 2014 11:51 pm

A strong message from a single artist. Check out this small article about what artist Eliza Bennett wanted to convey by embroidering her own hand. Reminds me of Sagmeister’s AIGA Detroit poster.


A strong message from a single artist. Check out this small article about what artist Eliza Bennett wanted to convey by embroidering her own hand. Reminds me of Sagmeister’s AIGA Detroit poster.

(via hifructosemag)