The Angryman

Opinion: Obsession and Irony in the Courtroom

There’s something unsettling about watching an Attorney General sit in on nearly every Donald Trump court hearing — as if her job title suddenly changed to “Chief Spectator of Trump’s Life.” Letitia James didn’t just pursue justice; she pursued the man. It wasn’t professionalism. It was personal. The obsession was visible — in her presence, her posture, her eyes.

And now, irony has come full circle. With her own indictment on the table, I’d bet everything that Donald Trump won’t be showing up at her hearings. He’s too busy leading, living, and moving forward — the complete opposite of the fixation she once had for him.

That’s the difference between obsession and focus. One stares at you from across the courtroom. The other keeps winning while you self-destruct.

1 day ago | [YT] | 544

The Angryman

When “Good Times” Hit Different as a Grown Man

When I was a kid, Good Times was one of my favorite shows. JJ Evans had me cracking up every episode with his wild expressions and crazy catchphrases. Florida reminded me of my grandmother — strong, spiritual, and stubborn in the best way. Thelma reminded me of my annoying sisters — always loud, always right, and always in your business. And James — that man reminded me of my father, and all the men I grew up under. Hard men. Men who didn’t make excuses, who led with their hands, their hearts, and their grit.

Even Michael, the young activist, inspired me back then. He made me think, made me believe in fighting for something bigger than myself. Back when activism was real. When it meant responsibility, not victimhood. When it meant standing for principles, not hashtags.

But as a grown man, Good Times hits different. I find it hard to watch now. Maybe it’s because the older I get, the harder it is to stomach seeing Black folks trapped in those same cycles — poverty, struggle, and systemic dependency — portrayed like its destiny. The man I’ve become refuses to accept that image as our ceiling.

Still, there’s one episode that always gets me — the one where JJ gets shot. I’ll never forget how that hit me. I was ready for James to handle business — to put in that work like any father would if his son got gunned down by some street punk. But what happened instead? We saw what real manhood looks like.

When James confronted Mad Dog — the teenager who shot JJ — you could feel the rage boiling under his skin. Every muscle in his face said, “I could end you right now.” But he didn’t. He looked past the crime and saw the broken boy behind it.

And the moment that changed everything came just before that. Mad Dog’s mother showed up. She looked at her son and told him she was ashamed of him — said she wished he’d never been born. Then she said, “If your father were here…” and before she could finish, Mad Dog snapped back, “He’d be a wino in the gutter!” She slapped him across the face and stormed out.

That’s when Mad Dog broke. He yelled after her, “He ran out, didn’t he? Where was he when we needed him, Momma? I don’t need him! I don’t need nobody!” Then he punched the wall, stared at it, and turned to James. “You wanna hit me too?” he said.

James just looked at him and said, “No.”
That’s when it all clicked. James realized Mad Dog wasn’t just some thug — he was a broken kid who’d never been taught how to be a man. He was angry at the world because the world never gave him structure, guidance, or love.

And right there, in that moment, James Evans taught a lesson most men today don’t even understand. He showed that real strength isn’t just in the fists you throw — it’s in the control you keep. He had every reason to destroy that boy, but he chose to rise above it.

How do you find empathy for someone who shot your son? You do it when you’re a man who understands pain — not as an excuse, but as a truth. That episode didn’t just show us who James Evans was — it showed us what we’re supposed to be.
Watching it now, I respect James more than ever. He wasn’t just a TV dad — he was a symbol of the discipline, pride, and integrity that once defined the men in our community. Men who didn’t need to be superheroes — they just needed to be present.

Maybe that’s why Good Times feels harder to watch now. Because what was once a reflection of our struggle has become a reminder of how far we’ve drifted from those values.

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1 day ago | [YT] | 1,358

The Angryman

Opinion: Letitia James Is the Last Person Who Should Be Screaming “Witch Hunt”

You’ve got to love the irony.

Letitia James — the same woman who built her political career screaming “Lock Him Up!” before Donald Trump was even charged with a crime — is now crying foul, claiming she’s the victim of a weaponized justice system. Oh, now it’s a “political witch hunt”? Now the justice system has gone too far?

Give me a break.

Let’s rewind the tape. Back when she was running for New York Attorney General, she didn’t even pretend to hide her agenda. She didn’t say she’d uphold the law. She didn’t say she’d defend the Constitution. No — her campaign slogan might as well have been “I’m coming for Trump.”
She called him illegitimate. She called him a criminal. She said she’d make it her mission to “get him.” Before a trial. Before an investigation. Before anything.
Sound familiar?

That wasn’t justice. That was vengeance dressed up in legalese.

And for years, she used her position — not to protect the people of New York — but to obsessively pursue Donald Trump. She joined every lawsuit, inserted herself into every political drama, and weaponized her office to target a man she personally disliked. That’s not justice. That’s abuse of power.

But now the tables have turned.

Now she’s the one under indictment. Now she’s the one being called out for allegedly lying on mortgage documents — and suddenly, she’s preaching about due process, fairness, and integrity in the justice system?

Nah. You don’t get to play victim when you built your entire career treating the justice system like your own personal vendetta machine.

Let’s be honest: If the shoe were on the other foot — if Donald Trump had done exactly what Letitia James is accused of doing — she’d already be on CNN demanding jail time. She wouldn’t wait for a trial. She wouldn’t care about intent or nuance.
She’d be on her soapbox shouting, “No one is above the law!”
Well guess what, Letitia? That includes you.

You can’t campaign on putting someone in prison and then cry political persecution when you’re the one in handcuffs. That’s hypocrisy. That’s weak. That’s the hustle we’ve been calling out from day one.

This isn’t about justice anymore. It’s about political theater. And the curtain is finally being pulled back on people like Letitia James — the ones who pretended to be noble crusaders but were really just running revenge campaigns with a badge.

If the justice system is truly weaponized, it’s because people like her loaded the gun.

2 days ago | [YT] | 477

The Angryman

Call It What It Is: The Race Hustler’s Favorite Costume Is Hypocrisy

Let’s talk about the grift that nobody wants to call out anymore — not because it’s not obvious, but because it’s profitable to pretend otherwise.

You’ve seen them. The professional race hustlers. The ones who jump in front of every camera to remind you that “the system is against us,” that “the white man won’t let us rise,” that racism is the root of every failure, struggle, or missed opportunity in their lives. Meanwhile, they live in gated neighborhoods, take photos with the very people they tell you are the enemy, and quietly build their wealth doing business with the same non-Black people they publicly shame.

Let me make this plain: you can’t claim to fight the system while cashing checks from it.

It’s not racism keeping people from success — it’s a lack of accountability, discipline, and strategy. But saying that doesn’t sell books, land podcast deals, or get you clout points from emotional followers who need a villain to blame. Victimhood sells. And these so-called leaders are expert marketers of it.

I’ve got no problem with unity, success, or even interracial partnerships. In fact, I encourage it — when it’s real and not just for show. What I do have a problem with is selective outrage. What I do have a problem with is pretending you’re oppressed one day and buddying up with billionaires the next — just to keep your audience emotionally addicted to a fantasy version of history.

The truth is, these people aren’t freedom fighters. They’re narrative managers. And they weaponize race not to build anything — but to stay relevant in a world where real accountability doesn’t trend.

If you want to speak on race, fine. But live it consistently. Don’t shout “Black Power” with one breath and use the other to name-drop every non-Black celebrity you rubbed elbows with at a fundraiser. Don’t teach young Black men to distrust everybody while you’re cashing speaking fees from the same institutions you claim are racist.

The game is rigged, alright — but not by racism. It’s rigged by grifters who figured out that outrage pays better than integrity.

It’s time to call it what it is: hypocrisy wearing a dashiki.

And I’m not buying it.

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⚠️ ADVENTURE UPDATE: Why There’s No Street Conservative News This Morning ⚠️

I awakened this morning and started my day like any other — peace, coffee, breakfast… all was calm. But fate had other plans.

As I stepped outside to pull my trash bins in from the curb, I discovered something sinister beneath the surface of my own front yard — an in-ground yellow jacket nest. The same kind of swarm that stung me and my grandson last summer. The kind that makes grown men rethink their bravery.
I stood there for a moment, weighing my options like a man about to enter battle. Do I leave it alone until nightfall… or handle business now?
Then I thought — to hell with it.

I grabbed my gas jug, poured a little into a disposable cup, threw on my hoodie, and pulled the strings tight like I was about to do a drive-by on a hive. I crept up on that hole, heart pounding, spotted a few guards hovering, and — splash! — unleashed the gasoline and bolted like lightning.
Success! No stings! But victory was short-lived… because within minutes, a swarm began circling the nest, furious and confused.

“You fool,” I told myself. “It’s daytime. They’re out and angry.”
Now I’ve got deliveries coming, plus the munchkins are coming over, and the last thing I need is a war zone in my front yard. So I devised a plan. I grabbed my shop vac, filled it with water and Dawn dish soap, and positioned the hose right by the opening of the nest.

One by one, those yellow demons met their soapy, watery end — a baptism they didn’t ask for but deserved.
Amazon is on its way with the insecticide dust. Once it arrives, I’ll deliver the coup de grâce — the final blow that ends their reign of terror once and for all.

So if you’re wondering why there’s no Street Conservative News this morning… it’s because I’m in the middle of an active combat operation in my own yard. Pray for me, folks — I’m fighting for peace, freedom, my munchkins… and safe delivery of my packages.

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Maturing is realizing…

Maturing is realizing Gina didn’t track Martin down because she loved him — she did it because she couldn’t stand living in a world where Martin wasn’t there to validate her.

Think about it. Martin had joined a cult — not because he lost his mind, but because he was trying to find it. He found peace, silence, and maybe, for the first time, himself. But once Gina found out, she couldn’t let that stand. It’s almost like his peace bothered her. She needed to pull him back into the same chaos he was trying to escape, just so she could feel relevant again.

The real reason he left wasn’t just the cult or some midlife crisis — it was shame. He’d lost his job, his confidence, his sense of worth. When Gina offered to give him the engagement ring back, for a brief second, he probably felt hope… until he looked at her face. Her expression said it all: “I’d rather keep the ring than help you.” It was a false gesture — one that made him feel like a failure all over again.

She’s lucky all he did was leave. When they watched his farewell video, Tommy said, “I knew we should’ve called the police.” Why? Because deep down, they feared Martin might’ve done something drastic.

But he didn’t. He just walked away — because sometimes walking away is the only way to save yourself.

And truthfully, if Martin had been single, he probably would’ve handled losing his job better. But the embarrassment of falling off in front of Gina — a woman who came from success, who had a thriving career, and who never truly understood what it felt like to struggle — made it worse.

Martin always felt like he didn’t measure up, like no matter what he achieved, he wasn’t worthy of her. That quiet insecurity became the fuel for their constant arguments, and when life finally hit him hard, it wasn’t just his job he lost — he lost the entire façade of the relationship.

He didn’t leave because he was weak.
He left because without his job, he could no longer maintain a relationship that kept reminding him he wasn’t enough.

And yet, when he finally found peace — when he stopped trying to prove himself — Gina convinced him to come back. To start all over again. To keep jumping through the same hoops for the same conditional love that once broke him.

Let’s not forget, the only reason they even got engaged in the first place was because of an ultimatum. Gina threatened to move away. Marry me… or else.
An idea prompted by her perpetually single, man-hating friend Pam.

Martin didn’t come back because he wanted to — otherwise, he would’ve left when they first found him at the cult. At first, he chose to stay behind. But after thinking about what Gina said — “You didn’t find yourself, you’re running from yourself” — he caved. She knew exactly how to hit his ego.

She manipulated his pride, used his masculinity against him — pulled him right back into the same proving ground where her validation depended on his struggle.

Because in the end, Gina didn’t need Martin’s love.
She needed his effort.

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To all the naysayers talking about the quote from Wrath of the Dragon. I told you, Goku don’t talk like that.” That ish ain’t cannon!

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