A.D. 2004

Troublecrunk is dead

“No they won’t be namin' no buildings after me, to go down dilapidated.”

—Erykah Badu

Hi. My name is Will Dukes (née Justwill) and I’m a writer/arse aficionado-cum-corner store terrorist and this is my blog.

For the record I used to maintain an initially snarky blog at the infamous troublecrunk.blogspot.com domain. But with the stress of impending grown-man shit— compounded by my then nervous leap from blogger to professional smartass (I was the prototype, XXLMAG.COM neophytes)—I had to play Hov to my online journal’s Cristal—especially when shit started to get rill weird with the blogroll Nazis (I add you you’re famous/I remove you I’m brainless).

But as the big homey Young Flatbush once said, “This whole blog shit is one big pussy just waiting to get fucked.” Word. I can’t—in an era when the editorial Eye in the Sky is passing out cakey-ass blog jobs like so many G-Unit pendants—afford not to put you onto the mercurial music of my mind (the formidable J-Shep, in leaner days, once referred to your boy as an “undiscovered genius”; it’s probably best not to argue with grown folks). And who knows, I may very well find a way to peeve feminists with Gloria Steinem love letters while simultaneously charming said demographic with 2000-word screeds on why Tamala Jones’s ass is way better than chapter one of Sisters of the Yam: Black Women and Self-recovery. Seen?

In short, I’m an intellectual pimple in a world of Oxymorons; hire me dickheads.

Said the bloggun to the head: It’s about to get ugly.