Mike D on Percussions Brick O’Neal® on Vocals Live @ 5:45am: Beijing, China

Mike D on Percussions Brick O’Neal® on Vocals Live @ 5:45 am: Beijing, China

There were many a time during my 8 years living in Beijing, China that I would experience many a test that would push me to the very limits of my patience and respectability for humans. I will skip all the negative attribute that typical ‘traditional‘ Chinese people portrait as well as the antics that would follow if I got upset.

So let’s carry on with the story of Mike D.

Once upon a time During my later years in Beijing. I was forced to live in a neighborhood area called Nanluoguxiang.  A historical part of old Beijing dwellings that are generally called the Hutongs. These places are filled with shops, bars, and eateries. As well as homes, which that was what they were, to begin with before the rise of economics and illegal foreigners making the push. This is all ground level homes that have been around hundreds of years. So to say…

cough cough…..

my 3 wheel cart in the main gate.

A major attraction for foreigner renters is that it gives them a feeling of home. Dirty, private entry door, and well… I can’t think of much more other then it was super cheap to live.  For nowadays most of Beijing neighborhood is nothing but towers. Compounds of endless towers. Everywhere… Design to squeeze in as many soulless humans as possible in a single square foot of space.

Chinese people believe that at least six or more physical bodies can occupy the same square space at the same time for no particular reason.!


Just do it because there could be a que later I guess!

These people are not very creative, but they are good at reproducing!

So fuck that type of living!

Hutongs =  LSH:  Laowai Sucker Hipster or at least that was how I felt when my Chinese landlord would pull up in their knock-off Mercedes scooter laugh at me. Speak in Chinese about how I live in shit which pays for them to live in a luxury three bedroom flat on the thirty-fifth floor out near fourth ring road North-East side. Then speak to me in English of how it pains them to drive down to the ghetto. Finishing by having the balls to ask me if I could deliver the money to them next time.

I bet one could guess my response on that!

My walkway with my door just on the other side of the plant.

Most of the time I pretended I didn’t understand Chinese.  Playing stupid has benefits towards the lesser educated.

Love it or hate it. It’s China and the amount of money that foreigners pay to live in a culture which hates them has besets them.

American ain’t got shit VS the Chinese locals when it comes to racist remarks and snarls toward ones that are not their own.”


The inside of my two room hutong flat. Well, at least one side of room one.

There were three shit families that all shared the main gate to the courtyard in which I resided. Which meant there were three plus homes that would maze around each other. Each having a door that opens into the courtyard with the courtyard having a main gate to the little hutong roadway. Each family held on to some form of decaying skeleton host father/mother like figure that would come out and make a moment of action in a fit of distress like

batting a pinata during a drunken rage blindless-ly.

Each one of these corpses carried a different persona, a different vibrant energy of death that would come to life with a drunken spirit and a stench rant. Singing songs which always reminded me of the Beastie Boys for some reason. I even gave each walking corpse a B-Boy name. Mike D, Ad-Rock, MCA.  Like the B-Boys, each also had a musical talent that fit best with each name.


On occasion, if I were blessed during their drunken state, one would display their talent to the up most of their ability.

At any time of the twenty-four hour period.

So as you see. This is Mike D. He is about 90 years old, dead, and loves to shuffle his feet. His hobbies include eating figs, water plants, toilet, and on the morning of May 8, 2015, at 5:44 am… He added a new activity to his list.


Owning and working a bar in the hot spot of Beijing, China never allowed me the chance to arrive home early in the night. Workers of this industry have their own hours in which they live and understand that at times this can be conflicting with others who live in their ‘rise with the sun‘ way of starting the day.





ROUND ONE!  When I was brought out of my deepest hours of sleep by someone banging on the back of a metal dustpan. I had no clue what the hell was going on.  All I could think about was fire and fuck!!! That was the last thing anyone wants in these old hutongs in the blistering cold of spring.  So I rush to my door with cloths in hand an open to discover….

NOTHING!!!! Not a damn thing.!

The old man, banging away yelling just outside my bedroom window! Literary 2 feet away.

notice everyone hanging out in my doorway.

The rest of the B-Boys with their family were already out in the courtyard in their night clothes looking, talking. I had no idea at that moment till I had started to listen, pay attention to what the old man was saying.. To come to find out…   That, some other Chink, stole one of this baby fig trees he had in a pot just outside in the courtyard…

and he was PISSED!!!

He was going to alert the entire neighborhood that there was a thief about.


So Ad Rocks wife came over and calmed Mike D down…  Got him to go back inside his home and relax. In which he did. I just stood there in my doorway half clothed with the dumb look on my face for only having 3 hours rest. Wishing for a wake-n-bake moment. I turned around, shut my door, and crawled back into bed.

Just moments later…


I’ll be damned if that mother fucker wasn’t at it again.  Back out within minutes with his metal dustpan and stick just banging away and signing along.!!!  That was it! I’ve had it. To hell with strike 3.  I marched outside, walked right up to him, reached down and jerked the metal dustpan out of his hand. I proceeded to walk outside of the main entrance and tossed that damn metal dustpan over the wall into another neighborhood courtyard.

That pissed him right off!

I walked into my home, without even looking at him as I passed by. I crawled back into my bed for some final shut-eye feeling like I showed him.

To hell with old Chinese men. To hell with respect. To hell with it all before 6 am in the morning!

ROUND 3 Sing!

So as the story goes. If one can’t beat the ignorant, might as well get high and join him! Catch all the action right here on YOUTUBE.

Don’t miss this song and dance routine.!

This video is A ONCE In a LIFETIME EVENT DISPLAYING Brick O’Neal® beatbox TALENTS with Mike-D on Percussions!

Catch it live here on YOUTUBE

Other than stating that someone stole his plant, and bitching at me for interrupting his song.  I feel his song was American HIP-HOP artist written and related.  Effuses on the ‘fuck yous!’ and ‘son of a bitches!’ and I’m sure there was a mention of pussy grabbing!


In short, traditional Chinese people, the old fucks, are the worst! Racial, ignorant, and selfish beyond belief. The epitome of the phrase “pieces of shit humans” at it’s best.  

Check out the B.H.A SHOP for the latest swag or make reservations at BEEBOP FARM™.




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