The Stock13 Report: Sometimes Sexxy Just Ain't Sexxy

Reporting: Panama Jackson
Date: August 23, 2006

So umm, yeah, I slacked hard on writing this.

Sue me.

They say patience is a virtue. Or that good things come to those who wait. Buck up, lad, you'll get them next time. Some say that Panama is sexxy.

All of those things are true. And some of them are bullshit (except the one about me being sexxy, truer words have never been spoken).

You see, sometimes, when the going gets tough, things fall apart. Just ask The Roots.

Such was the case this past Wednesday up in Bohemian Caverns for the weekly Stock 13 Pajama Jammy Jam (sans the pajamas and the jammy jam).

This is all a learning experience and there are a few things I've learned about doing events such as this. Allow me illuminate my lessons:

1) You can control nearly everything, that doesn't necessarily equate to the output you're going for.

2) Kool-Aid is just as good now as it was when I was 6. No lie.

And most importantly...

3) You can't do shit if the crowd ain't into it...period.

That rhymed.

There's an old adage that says, when life hands you lemons, make lemonade. Well, I'll do life one better...when life hands you lemons, you make some Mike's Hard Lemonade, drink a lot of it and hope you don't remember everything.

But on the flip side, there were some good times to be had.

For instance, Afi (check out her MySpace page) came through and did a great job. Shucks, she got an encore request and didn't disappoint.

Yeah, Afi was hot.

Stellar even.

Awww, skip it...let's just do the 10 (fuck it, I think I'm going with 5) things I learned again.

1. You can't force shit, either folks are feeling it or not.

I even started preaching. Begging and pleading. It was like offering...and I didn't make anyprofit, er, I mean God didn't receiving any tithes. There's a kill-switch in any event where you just have to learn how to cut your losses...I recognized it early. For some reason, it just seemed like people, as a unit, decided that Wednesday night was going to be the night they just wanted to sit and network as opposed to listening to what was going on during the performances...sucks for them since I got to cursing early.

I'm good at cursing.

Oh yeah, and the Panama T-Shirt Watch, you need that in your life:

2. The vibe of the show starts early and is completely established from then on out.

Now, I was doing a shit load of running around so I dont even now how it all got jumped off...but let's just say that a good 15 minutes in, there was some major tuning out going on. I swear I heard somebody say that they believe that ToeJam etiquette is what's plaguing Black America today. I don't know about you, but when folks give a shit about toe jam, you know you're in for one hell of a night. Not to say it's not important...but ummm, dude...we were so at a club.

3. The comedians are usually the saving grace...umm, not on Wednesday.

What's really funny about the comedians on Wednesday is that on most occasions, I kind of have to prompt the comedians to get off the stage when they're bombing. Not these cats...both Frank Nitty and Laughing Lenny both knew it wasn't going so well and got the hell off stage. Seaton Smith before them??? He just said fuck it and didn't even try to act like it was a good showing. And I can't even blame them, they were funny in spurts. I know I was laughing anyway...it was just a tough crowd basically. The crowd was not into it. Perhaps that's my fault...

...fuck it. I'm passing the buck, the crowd hated us all.

4. When in doubt, let the DJ do the work.

When I say I couldn't WAIT to get to the afterparty, I'm not joking. It seems like with the talent showcase part, its either very hit or miss. We either have a great night or a bad night...no middle ground so I was delighted for DJ Scientific to get back on the 1's and 2's and drop some beautiful music becuase Lord knows we needed it. And at that point, it seemed like folks were doing alright then. There was a birthday party in there and them folks got good and gully with it. Shots were taken, bottles were pouring, ignorance was at its apex. That is how you have a birthday party in a cave!!! Shoutouts to the birthday boy!

4a. When in doubt, also go to the bar.

I can't stress that enough. A good drink always makes things better.

5. The house was packed so despite the less than stellar show, it seemed that most folks enjoyed themselves in some form or fashion.

In all honestly, folks were still smiling. I even had to buy one young lady an Absolut and Tonic because she remained hype for the most part, and I appreciated that. It's good to know that even when all the chips are down, folks can still manage to enjoy themselves in some way shape or form...because that's what we do up in Stock 13...we do it for the culture.

We do it for the people...we do it for the love. That's why we do what we do like we're doing it for TV.

And invariably, that's why folks come out to perform...to share.

Sharing is caring.

And we care.

And you should too...so get your ass out this Wednesday, August 30 to Bohemian Caverns at 2001 11th Street, NW (the cornere of 11th and U Streets, NW).

I know you see it...I know you see it...

Stock 13 at Bohemian Caverns...it goes down.

Bohemian Caverns: The Morning After, Vol. 1 Ed. 3

Where were you last night between the hours of 8pm and 2am?

If you live in Washington, DC, and weren't at Bohemian Caverns for the Stock 13 Open Mic and After Party you were definitely in the wrong place.

So says Panama.

He's sexxy.

And do you know why he's sexxy?

Why?

Because he's taken to speaking of himself in the third person. He's sexxy enough to do that.

I realize that there the majority of the people who read this site do not live in DC. However, I write about this stuff so that you will all want to come and live here and move here so I won't be wonewy (I'm so wonewy). Plus, when I have a good time, I want to share the good times with the masses. Minus, I was out of town last week so I wasn't hosting last week so it felt good to be home.

Kind of in two ways too because it felt good to be back down South and it felt good to be back in the Caverns hosting the joint.

Okay, enough with all of this mumbo jumbo. Let's get to the evening. Like I was doing before, I'm going to share 10 things I learned last night about that may or may not actually have anything to do wtih anything I learned. Kind of double positive negative.

And I almost think I need to start doing a Panama T-Shirt watch. You see, I kind of accidentally started a precedent of wearing off-brand t-shirts. Well, its become part of the night as lots of random people come up to me wanting to know whats on my shirt. The pressure is on now since I have to make sure that I come with that new-new (new-new for you-you).

This is the shirt I wore last night...and umm, this shit bodes SO well for quite a few people out there:



Oh yeah...

...SNAKES ON A PLANE!

10 THINGS I LEARNED WHILE TOSSING BACK RUM AND COKES COURTESY OF THE BEST BARTENDERS THIS SIDE OF NORTH CAPITOL STREET

1. Open Hour means jack shit to some people...

...and I, for one, couldn't be happier. You see we have this happy hour from 6-7pm right. But nobody shows up. Like at all. By 630pm, the only people at the happy hour were me, Tom P. (this cat who gets on the congas during the show and during the afterparty he plays with the DJ...real cool cat, you should come and check him out), Russ (the promoter), and the bartenders. And do you know what that means? Yes, bitches. No waiting for drinks for Mr. Oh So Sexxy.

Man, this one particular bartender, Carl (not sure if it's with a K or a C) was straight hooking me up all night. Good dude. And let me tell you why he's a good dude. You see, I really wanted to pay for one of my drinks so I could give him a tip because all I had was a $20 bill. So you know what this kind soul did? He requested that I take a shot of Patron with him...because I wanted to pay.

You see, it's stuff like that that makes me proud to be an American.

Either way, fuck it, mo' fo' me.

Hmm...$5 dollars to anybody who can tell me what movie that last sentence came from.

2. It's not the amount of people, it's the vibe and spirits of the people there.

It seems to me that we've had more people packed inside of Bohemian Caverns before. Hell, I could actually walk around without molesting everybody in there. But let me tell you, the vibe in there was definitely good. It seemed like everybody wanted to have a good time, plus me chiding everybody to pretend like they loved eachother might have helped lighten the mood a little. The band was having a good night (it seemed), the women looked lovely, it was magic.

Okay, that's way to fluffy and lie induced, but anyway...shit was cool. Basically, you should have been there.

3. It's a small world after all.

So let me put you onto game. Two weeks ago, I was talking to random folks in the club right. Well, I run into this cat that looks really familiar. I'm like, "son, do I know you? where are you from?" He says Atlanta. Then it clicked. This was a dude who went to college with my older sister and used to hang with my brother-in-law like really tough. Catch is, I've only seen him ONCE in my life...like 5 years ago. Apparently he works in DC.

But last night takes the cake. So your boy Komplex (I'm going to talk about him in a few), got on the stage and started talking about rap vs. hip-hop and said he wanted to slap the shit out of a lot of the southern rappers right now. Understandable sentiment. Well, when he was done, I made sure to shout out the South and noticed these three fine young ladies who were hootin' and hollerin' from down South.

Later in the night I went to go speak to them because we were like the only folks in the whole damn place from down South. Turns out, that one of the women used to date a dude who used to date my Godsister in Huntsville, Alabama. If that doesn't make for a small world, I don't know what does. Another one of them knows some folks I know from Morehouse, but Hell, when you go to Morehouse, there's ALWAYS somebody who knows somebody who knows somebody.

Morehouse Men just have it like that. We're something like some pimps.

And the other one??? Well, she happens to work with one resident blogger that we all know 'round here, big Will from In My Write Mind up in New York. See, small world.

If you somehow end up on this site because you told Will that you met me..."hello."

Oh, and me, heh heh heh, I'm kind of a big deal.

4. When the show is going well, it seems to go really well.

So we kicked things off with this young lady named Shelby, who got up there and after a few seconds of trying to coordinate with the band just said, to hell with it, "I'm going to start singing and the band will just pick it up." And by George (Paul, Jon, and Ringo) they sounded good together. The band picked up a nice smooth mellow sound from her and rolled with it. And the crowd said yay-men.

Then Joe Young the Jyant, Madeline, and Dope (I swear I hope that's what he said, even TODAY I still think I'm getting it wrong) got up and did their song "(This Must Be) Heaven", which is funny, because I was listening to the original song that the music is sampled from all day yesterday. Must be heaven indeed.

Viva la Jesus.

5. That boy Mic Fields continues to be a bad man.

When he turns it up, he turns it up. I've spoken about him before on here, but he had it going last night. The crowd was feeling it and he kept it moving pimpin (you don't know me). Just like with the other performers, when everything is moving in the right direction, and we get it right (two step and let your shoulders lean), the stars seem to align. His closing number was hype and hell, even had me jumpin' around a little (like Kriss Kross but not really at all).

6. Sometimes, I just got to represent for my Southern bredren because nobody else is around.

This poet Komplex did a set and I must admit he did his thing for real. He's a very talented dude. But he ain't feeling "rap" music. And I admit, a lot of Southern shit that comes out right now ain't exactly the most positive (though I can admit to liking about 90 percent of it, D4L be damned). So he did his set, got the folks involved and I had to go back on stage and do a little Southern shoutout and make sure that though most folks claim to hate that Southern shit...it gets the clubs rocking. I had the band, Cut Tha Check, hit the 8Ball and MJG song "You Don't Want Drama" and I'll be damned if nearly everybody in there didn't start bobbing their heads.

You can hate the Southern shit, but you can't deny its infectiousness. Like Syphillis, it might not be good for you, but its catchy as all hell.

Ha ha, what you know about that?

Cuz we're shooters...shooterrrrrrs.

7. Two good ass comedians can sho 'nuff set the night off...pleezbaleevit. Oh yeah, and if I ever get stopped by a particular cop in Baltimore, I'm SO getting off with a warning.

There were two comedians who came through last night, Eric T. Meiser and Timmy Hall. Eric is this goofy white dude who might be more ignorant than me. And let me tell you, this cat was SO fuckin' funny I laughed the whole time. Admittedly, I don't pay much attention to the comedians a lot of the time because save a few, some of them just don't catch my attention. This dude...totally.

Off tha fo' reely, you need to see this dude in action. There might not have been any group he didn't take shots at. I mean, he even took shots at Hurricane Katrina victims...AND HE'S WHITE!!! Yes he's going to Hell, but is he funny? Like America, FUCK YEAH!

Timmy Hall...what can I say about Timmy Hall? He's an actual Baltimore City Police Officer, but he's been on BET's Comicview, HBO's The Wire, etc. It's like he just participates in ignorance all around!!! But I'll be damned if he ain't one of the funniest cat's I've heard in a very long time. His routine went from being a punk ass police officer to marriage to his drunken and marijuana induced exploits.

And this nigga's a cop. Very funny stuff indeed. You'd have enjoyed yourself. Yes, you should have been there.

8. A good damn DJ can make a good party even better than the good party that wasn't quite the best that will eventually get gooder down by the riverside (down by).

DJ Scientific, a cat who's been around for a while I gather is one hell of a party DJ. He's a resident DJ at Love Nightclub in DC, he's been on Rap City: The Bassment a few times, and has DJ'd at the last 6 Super Bowls. Either way, he's a pretty damn good DJ. Nice mix of old and new stuff that kept the party moving. Though I will say, nothing trips me out more than a bunch of women on one end and a bunch of dudes on the other end like we're in middle school.

9. LL just couldn't live without his radio...well I just couldn't do this shit without my Sidekick II.

Let me tell you. Nobody probaly notices at the venue, but me and Russ do so much communicating during the night its crazy. The text messages fly back and forth, the short communications that require yes or no answers fly all over the place. If I had to do texting on a real phone, it would never happen. At all. And I was about ready to chuck my Sidekick a while ago.

Which brings up another point. I don't know if people really have any idea how much goes into doing these events. From the outside it looks like there aren't a lot of parts. But let me tell you, there's nothing but moving parts that move all night long until everybody leaves. And when done right, makes for a good party.

SNAKES ON A PLANE!

(Can't you tell I'm like REALLY excited for this movie?!?!?)

10. This is a really good place to network and get to know new people.

You see, there are mostly a lot of working professionals coming through. But there are also a lot of down to earth folks and lots of beautiful women, especially last night...geee-yah. If you need to find a spot to go to on a Wednesday night and you're in DC...I'm telling you, this is your place. Panama Jackson says so.

Umm, it's also a place to go to see your game go down in flames. Last night I witnessed some pure travashamockeries in the form of game occur. Hell, I even tried to clean up one mess to no avail at all. I mean, I made good points but I was clearly bullshitting. They were nice enough ladies (it was the three fine chicks from down South), but yeah, even I couldn't salvage the asstastic mess of pickup line/holler tactic this cat used. So sad...glad he ain't me.

Anyway, these and other adventures can be found every Wednesday night at 2001 11th Street, NW, also known as the historic Bohemian Caverns.

It's where we make it do what it do.

The Stock 13 Open Mic...it goes down!

Bohemian Caverns: The Morning After, V. 1 Ed. 2

"He gon' think I'm a hoe..." - chick from "The Morning After" skit on The Love Below

That has nothing to do with anything. It's just something I wanted to put up there for whatever reason.

I do my thing thing, son son.

Just like with last week, I'm gonna do a recap of sorts of the Open Mic event that went down last night in the form of things that I learned. You know, there may come a time where I don't learn shit anymore at these. Perhaps all of the knowledge that is to be gained will have been gained therefore be ungainable, not to be confused with unbreakable (which managed to be both a horrible movie AND song...who'd a thunk it), but just not gainful like employment. Yes, sometimes I write things because I like to hear myself type.

*click* *click*

Let us begin.

10 Things I Learned At The Stock 13 Open Mic While Trying To Remember The Scientific Equation for Work

1. When I'm wrong, I'm very wrong.

A few days ago, I emailed Russ (the promoter AKA "The Man") telling him that I thought last night would be slim on numbers. For those that don't, Washington, DC, has been overrun by the men of Alpha Phi Alpha Fraternity, Inc. Further, there was a step show last night. DC has quite the educated Black professional crowd and lots of alumni of colleges, both HBCU and un-HBCU, which means that there are a whole shitload of Greek folks in DC. Hell, for a time, I thought it was a requirement that every Delta spend at least one year living in DC since you can't throw a rock around here without hitting a car with a DST license plate something or other on it.

All that to say, I thought everybody would be out at the step show. Fast forward to 930pm.

Three words:

Standing. Room. Only.

And even that might be underselling the point. That place was so packed with people. Young, old, white, black. I even think I saw a small chihuahua trying to gain admission, but he wasn't on the guest list so we turned him away. Hell, there were Alphas there. I figured they'd be out doing Alpha things. Nope, they were at the Open Mic. So, Russ, I was wrong. You were right.

Score: Russ - 1. Panama - 0.

2. I'm now a firm believer in stereotypes.

People say it isnt right to stereotype. To those people I say, fuck you. Not that I'm exactly sharing anything new, but Black folks are the LATEST muhfuckas on the planet. I'm starting to believe its coded in our DNA. Perhaps my myriad attempts at punctuality are merely a mask for the fact that I really want to be late but I've been socialized to think that being on time is necessary. So why do I say all of this?

Doors open at 6pm, right? Well, I know getting somewhere at 6pm is difficult. Hell, I can't even get there by 6pm. So what do you do to bring people early? Drink specials. Free food.

Or the capper: Open bar.

We had an open bar and there were like 8 people there from 6-7pm. Maybe 11 people. See, this is why I thought we'd be slim on numbers as well. Add to the fact that by 815pm, I had MAYBE 5 people on the list to perform, be it comedy or open mic, in TOTAL.

By 845pm? I'm having to turn people away. All of a sudden folks want to come up and holla at the kid (Panama Jackson, perhaps you've heard of him) to get on the list.

We usually get started between 815pm and 830pm. Do you know what time we'd LIKE to start? 7 something.

And its because Black people are late and are in turn making the white people late too! I think that's what Bill Cosby said...something like that.

3. If you're a comedian and you show up and tell the same jokes week after week, say, like, three times in a row, I will begin to hate you.

Well, I suppose that kind of said it all, didn't it?

4. I don't have patience for overly arrogant fuckers who like to tell me how I need to be doing things.

Have you ever met somebody who told you what you should do to make your shit better, but do it in a way that totally turns you off? Probably, huh? I meet them all the time. Fuck them. Let's just say that I only listen to one person in the entire place when it comes to how we're gonna do shit, Russ. Any other muhfucka who comes up to me and tells me what I should do because of what he brings to the table and how he can singlehandedly keep people coming back despite any proof can essentially kiss my ass. And make my shit list.

5. Apparently I missed out on the best opportunity in life to score women, the ability to sing.

Let me tell you something. A black man that can sing, even in a cave, will get the women screaming and shit. There's this cat that got up and sang named Brandom Neloms. Well apparently, he has quite the fandom because as soon as I even mentioned his name women started screaming.

The last time somebody screamed because I was on the mic, somebody got stabbed behind me.
Okay, thats not really true...nobody screamed for me then either.

6. Mic Fields is a bad man.

Mic Fields is this cat from UVA who comes and is part of the closing of the Open Mic part every week. Last night, he had that shit ROCKING. Performance is such a big part of any artists repertoire that if you suck on that end, well, you essentially suck period. That is not a problem for him. He did two songs and both of them got a great response. I had planned on hyping him up a little after he got off stage but he shut shit down so thoroughly I didn't have to say anything. I feel like if they weren't already fans, he probably made quite a few new fans. He's a good dude, and he definitely laid it down last night.

7. Speaking of laying it down, the band, Cut The Check, is a group of talent mofo's.

Last night I really listened to them play. I'm usually running around talking to everybody when they do their opening set and when folks perform and use them I tend to be focused on something else. But last night I really listened and watched as they on the spot learned a song Mic Fields brought in by doing what??? Listening to the shit on his iPod. And they cold rocked it. Talented cats for real.

8. DC has some funny ass comedians.

So, for the comedy part of the night, we tend to bring in people specifically. It's not as much of a comedy open mic as the other part may seem. Mostly because we want folks to laugh so some scouting work has been done to bring folks in. I can't find websites for both of them, but these cats Eddie B. (who hosts a joint at U-Turn every Sunday from 6 to 8) and Seaton Smith who hosts a joint at Bossa Nova in Adams Morgan every Thursday at like 9pm) were funny as hell to me. Seaton especially because he made mention of the fact that he isn't gangsta because he wears flip flops.

Talk about truth. I have a whole theory behind that myself so it was just good to know that me and Michael Jackson aren't the only ones who are not alone.

Randomly speaking, do you know that my sexxy was questioned last night? Me and this young lady who was part of the event (in fact I'll get to that next) were having a full out debate about who was sexxier. She started polling people and all the women were like, I have to side with my sister and dudes, well, are dudes. I demand a damn recount. You see, nobody said I wasn't sexxier, they just didn't want to answer.

Similarly, I had on a tshirt last night that might be one of the most ignorant shirts I've worn in a long time. And I do ignant. It's my forte. The shirt said "I Support Single Moms" and had a picture of a chick on a stripper pole. Boy, folks either hated or loved that shirt. Seems that more people loved it. I suppose ignorance is at an all time high in this country.
And I for one...am proud.

9. Clubbing for charity always seems to bring out more people.

The young lady who questioned my sexxy was there with a guest list of lots of people who were there to donate money to a charity (the chartiy eludes me right now). I've noticed this in my club going experiences...when folks can get drunk for a cause, they seem to be more likely to support it. It's like, folks don't want to make club owners richer, but they'll get fucked up on some Patron for children in Africa. Such seems to be the case. The last two events we had which were jam packed had a list for donations for a cause. And it helps to bring people out. Nevermind the clear conflict of interest in getting drunk to raise money for a battered woman's shelter (that wasn't the case or charity last night). I just think its great that folks will party if they know its for a good cause.

Moral of the story: Before you throw your next party, get a damn charity to support.

10. You should probably come party with us if you're in DC.

Seems like a folks have a good time. Potentially you want to have a good time as well. If you're looking for something to do on a Wednesday night, you should probably fall through. Seems like a no-brainer to me. Then again I'm sexxier than most so what is a no-brainer for me might not be for the masses.

*snicker*

And Lysette Titi...has a wonderful voice and she sang my song, "Young, Sad, and Blue" and I was happy as a pig in slop. She has some good songs and had my ass going groupie for a good second until I realized that I am...Panama Jackson.

Stock 13 Open Mic at Bohemian Caverns...it goes down.

Bohemian Caverns: The Morning After, V. 1 Ed. 1

I think I might start doing a weekly recap of the night before at Bohemian Caverns. I think I might start today. Well I suppose I won't be thinking of starting today since I'm already something like *hold on*...

...37 words into this post and the clear intention was to write about what happened the night before.

And yes I really did count the number of words.

I'm sexxy like that.

Now mind you, I have a deal with the promoter who sponsors (I suppose that's the word) the Stock13 Open Mic, as well as his monthly Stockholm 180 Charity parties, to do a write up for everybody to read. But the site is not up and running yet so I figured, what the hell, last night was interesting so I figured I'd write it up here.

I'm going to tell you how last night went by telling you some things I learned. In fact, that might become the running theme. What did Panama learn?

10 Things I Learned Whilst Sipping on One Too Many Long Island Iced Teas

1. Sometimes, it's possible to forget that an open mic means anybody with aspirations of grandeur can show up and show their ass.

Before the joint got off and kicking, a Latino fellow approached me telling me that he wanted to sign up for the list. No problem, its an open mic, that's what people do. I ask him what he wants to do and he informs me that he wants to rap. Check. I put him down. I proceed to talk to him further and he tells me, in a roundabout way, that he does lots of open mics. Cool. Even hands me a flyer of his with all of his contact information. This cool laid-back dude volunteers to go first, which if you've ever hosted an event you know is like pulling teeth. For some reason, every muhfucka thinks that they're too good to go first. Like that's proof that they haven't made it.
Umm...Bohemian Caverns is a cave. If you're ass is performing in a cave on Wednesdays...you haven't made it yet. Just take my word for it.

Anyway, El Toro (yes that was fucked up for me to call the Latino fellow El Toro but fuck you anyway), gets up on the mic and it goes a little something like this:

El Toro: W'sup to all my Latinos. I'm touring on the East coast and heading to the Southwest and I'm doing this for all the fucking' shit that muhfuckas talk about muhfuckin' Latinos and that fuckin' reggateon bullshit fuckin' fuckin' fuckin' fuckin' (add like 10 more of those) shit. Fuck all the folks that think us fuckin' Latinos is on some fuckin' shit. Fuck fuck fuck. Yo, DJ drop it...

Now, I'm no fan of reggaeton and for some reason its become the Latino identifying music. All of a sudden every Latino in America has determined that the ass melange that is reggaeton is really a force to be reckoned with. I happen to disagree so for about a split second, and despite the profanity-laced opening statement, I was at least glad there was one Latino who doesn't fuck with reggaeton. However...

...if you're gonna talk shit about something, at least be good enough to make me agree with you. What happened was kind of like the combination of too many drinks, too much energy, that Latino whistle, a Chevy, a shootout in East LA, and a black Primitive Baptist Church in Mississippi. You have no idea what that combines to create do you?

Neither did anybody else there. Nobody could understand shit he said except one word: FUCK!!!! Must be his favorite word. Either way, the point is that its easy to forget that open mic means open mic. And El Toro just might show up.

Or a white girl singing Beyonce songs and actually doing a good job with it despite technical difficulties. Understand...it's going down at the Stock 13 Open Mic!!

(Wow that was long.)

2. This one is kind of common sense, but if you put enough grown ass folks in a room together and they start talking, not trying to holler, but actually talking, relationships and why men and women don't understand eachother will inevitably become the soup du jour.

So yeah, as the host I tend to walk around and talk to any and everybody in the venue before the show starts up. Well I happened upon a group of three lovely young ladies and was told that one of them was going to perform. She said her name was Sexual Chocolate. Well, clearly, anybody who loves Coming to America enough to name themselves after Randy Watson's band is alright with me. I don't know how it happened, but a full fledge discourse on relationships, Black men in DC, Erykah Badu, and Southern living occurred. We must have conversated (since we're black we are allowed to conversate, irregardless of whether or not its a real word) for a good half hour. Good times, I hope they come back. Especially Sexual Chocolate since I didn't get a chance to drop the microphone while stomping my feet a few times then exiting stage left only to hear somebody in the audience say, "that boy good!"

3. I love the fact that at any majority-Black venue if you start doing HBCU shoutouts, folks will get hype at least for a second at the chance to rep their alma mater.

One of the dudes that performed a song goes to Alabama A&M University, which is in Huntsville. Well I went to high school in Madison, Alabama, which is a suburb of Huntsville. So of course we got to talking for a little while about the 'Ville and shit. When it came time for me to introduce him, I decided to do a quick roll call since I know quite a few folks in there went to Hampton and Howard. That was cool. And of course you KNOW I had to let everybody know that Morehouse and Spelman were clearly the directions they should have gone, but they all probably could have done worse. You can tell a Morehouse Man, but you can't tell him much.
Bitches.

EXTRA: So as SOON as I said I went to Morehouse you know what happened. I walked off of the stage to about 5 different folks asking me if I knew such and such that went to the 'House. Which just proves the point that Morehouse Men run shit. Non-sequiter. Surely. I went to Morehouse, I'm sexxy, and I'm Panama.

Kiss my ass.

4. Some people just aren't smart.

PSA: To all of my idiots out there, the two people you DO NOT want to heckle to a point where you're pissing them off are: 1) Panama Jackson aka me aka The Host because I control the mic the whole night and will ALWAYS have the last word AND get you kicked out; and 2) FUCKIN' COMEDIANS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I can't stress that enough. Why would you heckle Red Grant, the fuckin' headliner, and most popular comedian in the joint as well as one that drew a crowd? Do you really think that you're going to win that battle? Of course, somebody had to test their gangsta last night. Sometimes I think folks pride gets the best of them and they don't know how to stop themselves once they start talking. In the famous words of whoever sang the damn song, "that's what friends are fooooooooooooooooor..." If your friends let you get into a pissing contest with the two niggas in the place that are hands down going to clown you and make you look especially stupid, they aren't your friends. Word life.

5. If its a majority-Black venue, and there are white people in attendance and there are comedians present, every comedian will talk about the white people.

Shit must be some kind of default. "My jokes are bombing, but I always have the white people to fall back on." Though last night, none of the comedians really sucked or anything, but each and every one got on the white people at some point. Luckily there were a GANG of white folks there so they took in stride.

Though they were the LOUDEST fuckin' unruly group of white folks ever until Red Grant quite seriously told them to shut the fuck up. Like seriously.
Total sonnage.

6. Comedians with no jokes who headline will go for a very long time if they don't have a structured routine ready.

Annnnnnnnnnd such was the case with Red Grant. Funny cat, but to me he wasn't even the funniest cat we had last night. He didn't have any jokes for real. He just got up there and started talking for like 40 minutes. This dude named Marion Kendrick was way funnier to me. Which is even funnier since before he went on I set his ass up for trying to debo me on his spot in the lineup. I told the crowd that this nigga specifically told me he was going to shut the shit down.
Word to the wise: Do not fuck with the nigga who is running the event. It's not a good look. Did you see The Five Heartbeats when the Host told the crowd that The Heartbeats said they were better than Bird and the Midnight Falcons and The Temptations all put together in one? Yeah...don't fuck with me fool. He was cool though and he did shut shit down.

7. I really like women poets at open mics.

Do you know why? I'll tell you why. Women tend to be more easy natured than men at these events. We'll call it the Pride factor. This means that when a women goes up to perform and discusses something I have an opinion on, they usually take it in stride when I totally deconstruct whatever the fuck it is that they wrote. Men...not so much. Men need hugs. Or need to stop hugging so much since apparently, and according to Sexual Chocolate and Co., sensitive men are really getting a little carried away with their pussyness lately. Bottom line, women poets are a good lot. They're a lot more interactive than dudes.

8. It's always funny to see a man taking his friendship with a chick a little too far on the dance floor.

Let's call it borederline harassment. Dancing with your friends is always a risky proposition. Say you get a little bit too touchy feely. Like say you just put your face in their breasts. I mean, isn't that a bit much? Well once they back up that first time and remove your face from their breasts and then you proceed to place your hands on their buttocks in a rubbing manner and they remove them...shouldn't the message be clear? Of course not. Which is why I believe women are better than men sometimes. There was good cause to slap the monkey shine shit out of this cat but it never happened. She just perseverently kept removing his hands, face, toenails, and credit cards from going places they shouldn't have gone.

I love the 80s.

And no that doesn't have shit to do with shit.

9. If you have enough liquor and enough folks who are old enough to remember and love BBD's "Poison", you will get a danceoff in the club.

It never fails. Trust me. And I swear the DJ must have been reading my blog because he played Bobby Brown's "Don't Be Cruel" and followed it up with Guy's "Teddy's Jam". It's like he was testing to see which got the better reaction. Of course I had to break out the Bobby Brown dance. Then a few of us started doing the Kid 'N Play. Good times. Dancing can become quite the spectator sport when you got folks doing old dances that folks used to love. Oh yes, and I don't like reggae very much. At all. If you want me to sit down at your party, play reggae for 30 minutes straight. I'll sit.

10. It must suck to be the unattractive one in a group of fine women.

Not that this was so much the case last night, but let's just say, the thought did dawn on me at one point. Oh yeah, I might as well mention this here. The whitest man in America was on the dance floor chopping it up something serious. And you know what? I wished I could have as much fun as he was having. He did the same dance all night. I even counted it off with a young lady next to me because he did all the moves in the same order. He reminded me of Kevin James in Hitch.

Well those are the things I learned last night. Either show up next Wednesday if you're in DC or tune in next week to read about what goes down at the Open Mic where fun is had by all.

Until then...