What to Do When You Have a Gay Son

The same thing you would do if you had a straight son.

Having a gay son is always made a spectacle

As if preparing for your child’s potential queerness is on par with being diagnosed with some terminal illness.

It’s not a tragedy to have a gay son. Not an inconvenience. Not some hypothetical hard premise to make small talk about at a dinner table. People are gay. People are straight. And all sorts of in-betweens.

What would I do if I had a gay son? The same thing I would do if I had a straight son.

But that’s not an interesting enough answer for you is it? Watch the satirical comedy sketch on what to do.

And enjoy the reaction people give you when you use this answer to such a silly question.


Just Swipe It Forward Bruh (Comedy Film)

Swipe it Forward. Or it will haunt you.

In this case, literally. We don’t suggest anyone harass anyone to swipe it forward when you leave your metrocard at home the way this guy did… because for every asshole that ignores you, there’s one that will gladly use their unlimited metro to swipe you on.

Timothy “Hann” Rivera (@TimHannRivera) teams up with Almonte for another hilarious satire on the relationship between the homeless and the working class in Harlem. Almonte’s melancholic cinematography adds a dark twist to Tim’s goofy comedy style. “Almonte’s cinematography in the film gives it suspense… a sense of realism,” Tim describes. And we can’t forget Spagety’s (@SpickAndSpan_) incredible improv skills. “Edwin’s acting is scary yet hilarious.”

That Nuyorican  Rican accent though…

Tim explains his inspirations, reminiscing that he “always loved the old school Michael Myers and Freddy Krueger movies & wanted to create something similar.” He continues. “I always use my environment to create stories and thought — wouldn’t it be crazy if there was a scary film based on a Homeless guy that chases a guy for a metrocard swipe?– It’s scary but yet funny because in the film I’m really getting chased for a metrocard swipe… something you don’t see in films.” The ghetto life in Harlem is something you definitely rarely see in films. The satirical part of it all is what a big deal people make about being asked for swipe. In reality, no one is really going to chase anyone for train fare. Especially if they’re already on the train???
Well… unless it’s a cop chasing you for hopping the turnstile. That should be the next one 😉 

How far would you go for a swipe?

Watch the full video here. 

Rise — Boy to King — A Short Story

A King’s conquest for power is interrupted by a boy who looks oddly familiar in this hood creepypasta.

Almonte’s short narrative comes to life with this online audio book. A prequel to “Wack Nikkkas.”

Here’s the transcript:

Hood Creepypasta 1

1      Aight bussit… Per usual, I casually wait for some wealthy settler to pull up off the Metro lackin. A concert at Ward’s Island finished days ago. The hood is a pitstop these ravers gotta take to get to their little events there. So unless there’s some type of event goin on, aint no 12 around here to give them white hipsters and bourgeois niggas somethin to hide behind when them crackheads askin for change… so traffic is type slow. This the perfect time for a come-up since the block aint hot. Any new nigga pull up? It’s gon be just me and him. Lit. So why I see this lil nigga in a fuckin onesie by himself across the platform? First of all, obviously ya pops aint in ya life. My pops never had me wearin some faggot ass onesie. This lil nigga was not no 3 years old. This was a big ass kid. I aint even know they make onesie’s that size. I gotta get rid of this nigga cause he fuckin up my flow and I’m trynna get this comeup. I aint trynna have no extra eyes on my work.

2      An hour passes with no trains passin by and this pink panther lookin ass nigga aint gettin on none of these shits. You don’t wanna make a nigga uncomfortable. Promise you. As I cross over, what I thought was a teddy bear in his hand is actually some ugly ass gremlin lookin shit up close. That shit look type softer than a teddy bear though, not even gonna hold you.

“Yerr…” He don’t turn around. Smart lil nigga must be from around here.


3      I pull up where he can see me.

“What’s good, bro? Lemme holla at you real quick.” His eyes gaze up without pullin away. Ha. Nigga sad. His eyes tell a story. Not them fearful puppy eyes. It was them eyes from the same dog four years later after his owners hit the lotto and abandoned him in the hood. Sad– yeah — but no fear where there’s nothin to lose.

“You good?”

“Yeah I’m good. You good?” he gettin smart.

“You aint gotta be defensive, I aint trynna press you or nothin. I just see you out here by yaself lookin frantic and shit. ”

“I’m waitin for the train.”
“Don’t you think if ya train was comin it woulda been here by now? You been out here for an hour and a half. ”

“How you know I been out here for an hour and a half?”

“Cause I’m waitin for a train too. I got business to do.”

“We just might be waitin for the same train sir. It’s comin”

“My train comin. But I heard trains on this side aint runnin today.”
“I gotta get home.”
“You sound like you from here.”
“I am, but this aint my home.”

“Haha. Once you from Harlem, this don’t stop bein ya home. Don’t get Hollywood lil nigga. You might as well cop a Telly or some shit. Aint no trains on this side, B. I’m tellin you. You familiar wit the area anyway. You should be aware that lurkin out a lil too late for a lil nigga like you could be lethal. For all you know I coulda been some goon trynna snatch ya pockets and you out here all comfortable and shit.”


4      “Aint nothin to get snatched. And you don’t look like a goon to me. I aint scared.”

“That’s what make niggas like me dangerous. Tourists come out here and love an eccentric lightskin nigga like me. They don’t see shit comin. All these darkskin niggas dyin and gettin locked up cause they worried about lookin hard. You lucky I aint one of them goons or I woulda popped on ya pussy ass. I know you aint got shit in ya pockets. You from here. You a popped nigga just like me. You either make this shit ya home–no– make yourself King, or you make yourself the doormat. Aint no in between Heaven and Hell. And you And what’s Hell to Satan if he got his throne? See you? You the product of your environment. You just a bitch ass fallen angel that’s scared to call himself a demon.

5      “This the Hood, nigga. So you a hood nigga. And that’s that. I could say all this smart shit, keep it classy, stayin calm and collected with you. But at the end of the day, I’m a hood nigga. And that’s all you ever be even if you do just so happen to be able to catch a train out of here. Leave all you want. The Hood aint ever leavin you. Now, scram nigga. Aint no trains on this side. I’ma keep it one hunnit wit you. I’m waitin for a come up.”

He won’t budge.


6     “Nah I’m good. I’ma keep on waitin for this train. I’ma be tight if I leave right now and 5 minutes later I’m down the block hearin the train passin by. Good things come to those who wait. You do you, and I’ma do me. I aint no snitch. But you gon have to kill me before you take me off this strip.”  Niggas go hard for the most unrewardin shit. Some little niggas just never learn. Fuck it.


7      Lo and behold just 10 minutes later I feel a gust of wind crescendo across my face. The bats finally shriek for the first time in decades. Their voices drown in the blinding roars of the headlights. He still got them eyes. A dog lost in a cave finally seein his way out.

“Looks like ya ride out the cave is here fam.”

This hour and a half felt like my whole life waitin to eat. Cause it was.

The train stops. The few-second delay between the train stoppin and the doors slidin open seem like forever. Cause it is.


8      “The train is out of service.” He holds back tears. The doors never open

“Sorry kid. This train aint meant for you.”

Watchin the sun set against the train’s reflective canvas was like watchin a drop of blood fade on a cube of ice.

“You such a goon. Let’s hijack this train,” he challengin me.

“Haha a King knows how to pick his battles. Like I said. This train aint for you. And even if it was, you get off that train the same nigga you was when you got on.”


9      “Be safe, young blood. Welcome Home. You a bold nigga. Don’t lose sight of the light… But you gotta survive before you revolutionize.”


Photography by @Call_Me_CJ (Craig Steely Jr.)

This NYC Bum Is Savage AF

There’s a key difference between a New York beggar and these New York Bums.


On 125th– infamous for extreme poverty and addiction— the hustle is strong. Sell metro cards. Sell phones. Sell ass. Panhandle. Do what you have to do to survive that doesn’t violate the autonomy of another. Intimidating people into handing over their money is intolerable. And you can’t simply ignore superbums. Oftentimes they will follow or continue harassing you if you don’t turn around and engage them assertively. And even that doesn’t work sometimes.

It isn’t just a problem for snobby gentrifiers. I’ve witnessed countless locals being cursed out or damn near followed for half a block. Borderline coercive robbery. The aggressive catcalling and intimidation of women should not be dismissed as ‘hood culture.’ 

That shit is CORNY.

Watch the Pen Clique Break Down Almonte’s ‘Harlem Round Midnight’

These three cats nail the symbolism and juxtaposed sensory manipulation. Loud stench. Sour sight. Also — how the hell did Alpharaoh know the parka jacket was from Uniqlo? Anyway. There’s no question about their comprehension in their Harlem Round Midnight review. Let’s talk about the dynamic of their biases in relation to each other while formulating their final opinions.

The Pen Clique’s Harlem Round Midnight review is how all reaction videos should look. Set up with three different perspectives:

The Visionary — The Realist — The Empath/Dualist

All equally paramount. The Visionary — Kuya– says, “Wow I could definitely see where you’re trying to take this.” The Realist — Daniel — says, “This could have hit much harder and needs more.” The Empath/Dualist — Alpharoah — as an audience member says, “This isn’t very satisfying after such a setup.” But also says as a writer, “this makes sense and is done purposely by the writer.” He resonates with both. And he pretty much nails why the ending is so anticlimactic.  Alpharaoh notes how the beginning feels very personal and then becomes impersonal. He’s right.

Harlem Round Midnight’s style is inspired by the naturalistic style of short story To Build a Fire by Jack London. Spoiler Alert. He dies. The world keeps on spinning. The second to last line citing, ” the stars that leaped and danced and shone brightly in the cold sky. ” There is no punch line. No twist. The world lives on as is despite the suffering of man. In Harlem Round Midnight, “Some dreams never end” nods toward there being no resolution to the dreams and desires for those in poverty. Their dreams more often remaining just that. Dreams. “The night sweats faces– sodden in evaporated moonlight.” The faces of those afflicted by poverty remain soaked in the sweat created by this seemingly never-ending night. Admittedly, it was quite a fluffy way to put it. Word-swag as Daniel put it.

Something’s missing, though.

At 11:17, The Realist says something a bit convoluted. “I want some concise, contextual something. I want something that’s going to tie this into…um… something…” Some would just dismiss a criticism like this as just ‘hating.’ But it’s not. It’s very valid and relateable point. You can tell when something is missing. Oftentimes we don’t know what that something is. We just know we are left hanging; dissatisfied.  The Visionary explains that it’s probably exactly what the artist intended. While saying, ‘Well its like that on purpose’ is an easy cop out to defend something you like, Kuya isn’t wrong. Contemporary narratives have made us used to resolution and uniformity in works of art to the point that something always has to have a concise ending. But Harlem Round Midnight is meant to be more immersive than it is entertaining. The melancholic, open-ended nature of the piece is purposely meant to put the audience in the same, dissatisfied mood as the characters in Harlem Round Midnight. The Empath reminds them of how relateable this feeling is to the reality of people’s feelings everyday in cities like LA and NYC. This isn’t just a movie. It’s reality.

The Realist seems undecided as to whether he likes it or not. Mediocre. Yet Lit? It’s Okay. But it’s DOPE too. No shade. This was literally me after watching movies with rage-inducing endings like Gone Girl. Spoiler alert, he stays with her crazy ass.

That’s It.

 The three all seemed to enjoy Harlem Round Midnight from the start. But then unanimously had “That’s it?” written on their foreheads. Yeah. That’s it, man. It sucks, but that really is it. This poem shouldn’t make you feel cool or entertained afterward. I want you to feel how I felt when I wrote this, living surrounded by this reality every day. Empty, dissatisfied. Or maybe it really is just a shitty ending. You mostly remember the ending of a piece. It makes sense that The Realist is simultaneously intrigued yet disappointed in it.

Rate from 1-10?

Not a huge fan of putting numbers on art.

There are plenty of films I’ve watched with 44% on Rotten Tomatoes that were amazing. Plenty of pieces I’ve watched with 80% that were an absolute snooze-fest. There’s no truly honest way to rate something as subjective as poetry. Especially if you’re in a room full of a bunch of people that might influence your rating.

A critic admitting to enjoying something everyone else hates ruins their ‘credibility.’ Especially in the gaming industry where many companies are paid to review games. But what if they just genuinely enjoyed something no one else did?

I could never be offended by someone giving me a 2 and another critic giving me a 9. A piece of art resonates differently with every person. I would hope that poetry wouldn’t mirror the film industry’s elitist attitude of “You scored low. You’re just a hater. Can’t trust your judgement” VS “You scored too high. You’re too easily impressed. Can’t trust your judgement.” Sometimes people just don’t like things because they’re not feeling it. We can be as ‘objectively’ good by using all the literary devices and punchlines we want. But for some, it may not resonate with them. It is natural for them to not enjoy it.

Maybe the ending turned off the Realist and he simply doesn’t like it, but he feels the need to give it a decent score because he doesn’t want to seem like an asshole. Maybe the Visionary wanted to rank it higher but didn’t want to seem like a dickrider. Too many variables influence people’s number ratings for it to be a measure of something being enjoyable or not. I enjoyed Michael Bay’s Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles more than Dunkirk.

Sue me.

I probably won’t watch Dunkirk ever again. But I could definitely get smacc’d and watch TMNT with my boys.

But I get it. It seems each have a background in Slam poetry, which is a genre with a heavy expectation of punchlines and flamboyant delivery. The Visionary also points out that this is a poem written for visuals. Not Slam. If you try to separate the visuals from the text, neither will be satisfying. Because both are poetry. Harlem Round Midnight could never rank in a Slam Poetry contest (it’s too short anyway). And it doesn’t work for radio/podcast as Alpharaoh mentioned as well. You can’t take the lettuce and tomatoes off a Big Mac and rate it as a stand-alone burger.

The Visionary’s judgement is based on influence.

When people say Kendrick is the best MC, we know that we can find someone down the block in our hood that can beat him in a rap battle. The subjective influence of setting standards is also part of that praise.  We know 2001: A Space Odyssey isn’t the best of it’s kind. But it’s iconic because it created the new wave of mixing philosophy & symbolism into Sci-Fi. Like Kendrick made “Woke” rap mainstream again. You can be very talented and even skilled at something. But what really leaves your footprint after you die is your influence and if you change the game. Kuya sees this potential beyond the piece itself. What it can become for social media and giving poetry a wider reach.  The sky and beyond. Daniel wants to stay down to earth and be realistic about what practically makes something a good poem. The Empath says anything after this has to be FIRE.

When we watch things alone, we are all three of these people. These perspectives mirror the stages artists circle through when they experience another artist’s body of work.


The Initiate Film – Your Conscience Will Always Haunt You

Triggered by the trauma he’s inflicted against someone he once called friend, Jojo tries to run away from his own conscience in The Initiate Film.

Why join a Gang?

Belonging. Protection. Power.

Extreme poverty is a dangerous precedent for proximity crime. With plenty looking for a quick way to make ends meet–or keep up with the Jones’ on TV living a lavish Hip Hop lifestyle. Whether it be by selling drugs or robbing their neighbors of what little they have. In the dog-eat-dog world of capitalism, most choose to be a predator than to be a prey. And when the gang that runs the block gives you a stare-down every time you’re just trying to do laundry and live your life… if you can’t beat em, join em. In The Initiate film, Jojo does just that.

But betraying your own conscience comes with a price to pay. He can run, lie, or take whatever drugs he wants to try and forget his sins. But a man can’t escape what he has done.

Watch how we made this film in 7 days by clicking here.

Let’s Talk About Lil Uzi Gay Mannerisms…

What exactly makes Lil Uzi gay to so many Black men?

As the group that dominates Hip Hop, we need to self-critique our perspective of these new rappers. Not just whether we are right or wrong. We need to ask; where is this judgement coming from? What are the subjective biases we grow up with that make us look at someone and say, “na man. That looks sus. Lil Uzi gay.”

Why do certain things turn us off? You could just say “well I prefer my favorite rappers to look masculine” and leave it at that. But we have been taught to like half of what we like. Not everything we think is “natural” is truly organic. Our preferences are socialized. Men are taught since birth to “man up” at any remote sign of emotion by family. The news gives us a hyper-representation of Black criminality. Mainstream music & film glorifies a lifestyle of promiscuity, violence, and aggression as defining traits of Black masculinity. It’s ironic that there are so many men with a hand in the media yet masculine-presenting men have such a one-dimensional TV presence. No one wants to break the cycle. The moment a man goes against what we normally see, us men get naturally insecure in the box we’ve been comfortably living in.

That’s sus.

That looks gay.

That’s fruity.

Let’s define gayness for a second. Attraction to the same gender. Sexuality doesn’t have a look. Cool. We know this. Yet that all goes out the window in everyday practice. A lot of things go out the window in practice. Like knowing that cheating is bad. Stealing is wrong. That you should floss after every single meal.

But here’s the thing. There is a gay look. A straight look. There shouldn’t be. But there is.

There’s a reason why straight men get called “f*ggots” for doing “unmanly” things as we previously mentioned. Anything outside of a man being dominant and a woman being submissive pretty much gets thrown in the gay box. 

The capitalist protection of the monogamous white family has us conflating gender identity with expression and with sexuality. Yet so many white male models get away with expressing femininity without feeling like their manhood is threatened. Even openly speaking about being straight and being attracted to trans women.

I’ll give you a hint.

White men have nothing to be insecure about when they have solid, objective government power. Many ankh-right, hoteps, Black capitalists & nationalists… do not seek equality justice even among their own people. They seek power. They seek to replace white patriarchy with Black patriarchy. This hierarchy is expressed in more overt homophobia, transphobia, misogyny, classism, and every -ism outside of racism. When you are oppressed in one way, it is easy to latch onto the other -isms for a leverage of power in your own community.

Low-income whites blame those filthy immigrants for stealing all their jobs.

Black men blame the ‘gay agenda’ and Black feminists for ruining their progression.

Hip Hop is the cultural expression of the hood. Thus, the fight for power using masculine dominance is emphasized. The hierarchy straight Black men control is less secure and more violent. Being simultaneous victims and oppressors of their own people. White patriarchy is much more institutional. Social bigotry doesn’t need to be as blatant to maintain its power.

So who cares if it looks gay anyway?

The fact that a lot of ‘new age rappers’ are coming about wear tight jeans, chokers, makeup and come out of their shell to speak about “soft sh*t” is a GOOD thing. It expands hip hop’s masculine spirit to leave the one-dimensional definitions behind.

The commercialization of Black aggression has made Hip Hop a branded cash cow spitting out the same “look” for ages. Perpetuating the same dangerous hierarchy we already have in urban culture. It’s about time we see new steps in fashion and gender expression and still recognize artists as a man simply expressing themselves differently.

Real Men Suck D!ck — Do You?

If Real Men Suck Dick for a Billion Dollars, would you?

There’s a lot you would do for a billion dollars. The real question is what wouldn’t you do for a billion dollars. Money’s coercive nature makes you reconsider what you wouldn’t otherwise do. Getting up at 5 in the morning with a hangover. Working at that fast food joint and serving people borderline poisonous food. Tolerating an abusive manager. Taking a gig with that annoying snob of a client with a six-figure net worth.

Money is the tool–not the motive. Money is the symbol of freedom in a capitalist society.

More money= More Freedumbs

More money to go on vacation. More money to get that boob job. More money to pursue those dreams of being a producer with the best gear in your town. Everything costs money. And if we can get our hands on money, we can buy anything — even people.

We all suck dick.

There’s a lot of things we would never do for free. Hell. People resort to murdering their family for insurance money before doing sex work. Ask any man if they would rather suck their homeboy’s dick or kill them to save their mother’s life. Sucking dick is the epitome of degradation for heterosexual men. To suck dick is to submit. To be anything but heterosexual is to sacrifice manhood. Heterosexual men doing anything remotely feminine is seen as “gay.”  Behaviors associated with women are seen as weak and undesirable. This is where homophobia and misogyny intersect.

Try this experiment

Go in a room full of men and ask; “Would you suck dick for a billion dollars?” Proceed to observe the stages of grief:


Hell naw man! That’s that gay shit! I would NEVER.


Man if any man came up to me asking me to suck his dick, that’s disrespectful! I’m knocking him out! I’ll kill that nigga and take the billion dollars!


I mean… how long you gotta suck it though? Is there a confidentiality agreement?


Damn but I really gotta suck it though? I can’t just do something else for the billion dollars?


I mean nobody gotta know. Fuck it.

The Power of Suggestion

Most people will hesitate to answer. The first few will answer. Everyone else will probably wind up agreeing to the consensus. A man will say “no” in one room and say “yes” in another if you ask him again next week.

What’s the point of Real Men Suck Dick?

Two Things.

To make you question the arbitrary definition of a “Real Man.”

To make you question how money influences your everyday decisions.

Cash cow artists in the music industry sell themselves out everyday. Changing their music, their values, and more… handing over their rights to labels for a million dollar deal… But God forbid a real nigga gotta suck some dick out here for a billion dollars.

A billion dollars.

That’s 1,000 millions. Think about it.



Ghetto Jeffro Unboxes Ghost White Timbs

The Ghost White Timbs are an icon of Hood Rich Culture.

This the first time I dropped two bucks on some sh*t some hating ass peasant will probably step on anyway. Why did I get the Ghost White Timbs? Look good; feel good, am I right?

Kinda. Not really.

I know I coulda got White boots from any other brand like H&M for 50 cash. But I don’t f*cks with fugazi sh*t. I’ma keep it a shtack. I haven’t worn Timbs since I was in middle school. Honestly, they blister my ankles and they played out. Everybody and their moms was rockin constructs. Issa lazy way to complete a navy blue color coordination. But Ghost White Timbs that make my eggshell-painted section 8 apartment look yellower than my teeth after eating two chopped cheeses back to back? I had to cop. Come on now.

Keep it 100. You hatin on me for one of three reasons:

  1. I gets more money than you.
  2. They limited edition and you was waitin til next Friday for your check. D*ckhead.
  3. You from the Bronx.



Rappers Drinking Pepto Bismol At The Club is Now a Thing

It was only a matter of time before rappers drinking Pepto Bismol in music videos became a thing.
Why tho?

I guess shitting on niggas gets tiring after a while.

Sometimes you realize you’ve been flexing entirely too much. So you have to get your hands on that pink drink to stop yourself from indulging in consumerist behavior and shitting on everyone less iced out than you are I suppose. Rappers drinking Pepto Bismol at the club is the new wave.

@TimHannRivera really killed it. It even got nominated Best Sketch Comedy at the Official Latino Film Festival. 

Here’s the Lyrics:

Sippin on that pink drink,
Got my stomach moving slow,
Sip it with a gingy,
Mix it with that combo,
Finish till it’s empty,
Think I might need one more,
Got me feeling sweaty,
Hope I make it to my show
Sippin on that pink drink,
Hope my shit don’t stink,
Popped a pill and it’s pink
Too late to rethink
Cus now I gotta go gotta go gotta go gotta go
Niggas see me with the hoes
can’t feel me toes
now I’m froze can’t move
got shit on my shoe
got Shawty saying what are those
I suppose fucked up my clothes
that’s how it goes when you
order out and get a three topping pizza at dominoes,
Gotta pop another pill,
cus mothafuckas is too trill,
drink a bit of gingerale,
boutta get that peptobismol refill
Sippin on that pink drink,
Got my stomach moving slow,
Sip it with a gingy,
Mix it with that combo,
Finish till it’s empty,
Think I might need one more,
Got me feeling sweaty,
Hope I make it to my show
12:28 I’m tryna get this drank,
Haven’t ate nothing but a fuckin frank,
Debit card not working gotta run to the bank,
Sharted in my pants shits about to stank,
Ima street nigga fuck you talking bout,
wanna order wings but I’m having doubts,
Ayo Bandage don’t do it man you’re butthole gonna feel like a drout,
Nigga fuck all that other shit I’m ready to check out,
I just got me two piece chicken wings,
Ima street nigga I can do these things,
once I took a bite my fuckin stomach dropped,
these mothafuckin wings made my heart stop,
gotta find me a drug store,
anything that sells that peptobismol,
Ima street nigga y’all already know,
but these wings boutta make my stomach blow…
Sippin on that pink drink,
Got my stomach moving slow,
Sip it with a gingy,
Mix it with that combo,
Finish till it’s empty,
Think I might need one more,
Got me feeling sweaty,
Hope I make it to my show


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