Thursday, February 7, 2008
Ahhh, I love geniuses. Especially geniuses who commit genius crimes! Like these people:
Enter Roger and Nicole, two lovely citizens from Ohio (Midwest: stand up! ). Roger and Nicole, just greedy young bucks, decided that they needed some money. Instead of working overtime, or even robbing someone or moonlighting as strippers, they decided to rob the armored car company that Roger worked for. Now, I've never committed serious crimes, but I have watched Law & Order quite a bit. So if I were to commit a serious crime, I feel like I'd be pretty well versed on how not to make stupid mistakes.
Well, Roger and Nicole clearly aren't as bright as yours truly. Though they succeeded in stealing $8.4MM by using another employee's access code, then loading up a truck with the money, it all went downhill from there. They decided to drive the truck to their new digs, stopping only once on the way: to get McDonald's. I'm sorry, but you just stole $8.4MM. At least stop at Red Lobster, or something. But nope, they got some Mickey D's, threw out their cell phones, and kept it moving. No, not to Greece. Or the Cayman Islands. Or even Miami.
They went to West Virginia, where they had a trailer all set up for them. THey had been back and forth already, stocking up on books, video games, and probably, combs for their mullets. West Virginia. If I stole that much money, I'd already have the private jet waiting for me, and thats the last anyone would hear from me. You might get a scenic postcard from "Georgina", with no return address, letting you know I'm alive, but thats about it. You would NEVER catch me in West Virginia.
I mean, you stole millions of dollars, and they only place your small mind led you was a trailer park in West Virginia? You don't deserve the money anyway! Have fun in prison!
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
Monday, February 4, 2008
Take a good look at the white people pictured above. They look a little bit strange, right? Just a tad? Maybe it was all those years of walking around with fabrics draped over their faces.
Those people are Prince Michael, aka Blanket, and . . . I won't pretend to know her name. But the girl is also MJ's child. Yup folks, the two people pictured above have the unfortunate destiny of being claimed by Michael Jackson, if he's still alive.
These two people came from God-knows-where, and are potentially mothered by that random white woman who was in the pictures years ago, and some unnamed, though clearly Caucasian sperm. So they don't really know who their parents are, I assume. And just when life couldn't get any stranger, here comes Michael Jackson, with his prosthetic nose, pale skin and hawaiian silky hair-plugged tresses, naming them Blanket, dangling them out of windows, speaking in a falsetto like the Dream's girl, and pretending his Black DNA could possibly have produced them.
If you ever feel sorry for yourself, if you ever go home for the holidays and think "I can't wait to get away from these lunatics", if you ever mistake your parent's quirkiness for craziness, stop and thank the Lord that you don't have to call Michael Jackson 'Dad'. Because you truly would have never had a chance. Do you think these kids will ever have friends? I mean, they might have before. 'Jackson' is a fairly standard last name, and assuming Blanket's mom was smart enough to keep 'Blanket' off his birth certificate, the kids at their private school might never have known. THen the blogs had to come along and ruin it all.
Bet you these kids have spitballs in their hair as I type. No matter how nice they may seem, no parent is going to let their kids play with Michael Jackson's children. At least, I wouldn't. There's no telling what they'd be exposed to. And life may not really ever improve from the day of their reveal on: who wants Michael, LaToya, Janet, Tito, Joe and the rest of 'em as in laws?
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
This morning, CNN ran a bit on George Bush speaking about addiction, and the power of faith the help heal them. I won't comment on the fact that faith hasn't helped his ultra-conservative republican buddies curb their addiction to gay escorts, but lets move on. Though I'm pretty bummed about Georgie being president all these years, his term will lend itself to numerous quote books after all the ridiculousness is said and done. That is, if Americans are still reading by the end of this year. Let us pray.
Anyway, George was addressing some group of addicts, and said the following: "I used to have a drinking problem. Once upon a time, I drank too much". Well, George, thanks for the clarification, but we didn't really need it. Generally drinking too much is what people mean when they say they have a drinking problem. Usually its not that they have trouble swallowing, or a hole in their throat or anything. I would like some clarification on one point though.
Georgie says he used to have a drinking problem. Perhaps he meant when he was in college, just a wee little rich Bush frat boy who enjoyed keg stands and joints. Or maybe he meant in high school, when he was that rich kid who took it way to far, far too soon. I know that type well. We would be like 17, and here would come Jon, whose dad ran Company X and lived in an 8-bedroom house in the hills. Jon would be high on pretty much any drug available to mankind, and would wash it all down with as many beers as possible. Jon is generally the kid who ended up in a minimum-security prison after causing some sort of drunken driving accident.
But I happen to think that Bush's problem may have began far before any of us think: in the womb. I really can't think of any other explanation for his genius. Think about it . . . mama Bush threw back a few too many glasses of wine while preggers with baby G, and thus gave America the monkey we call the President.
Monday, January 28, 2008
So I happen to live in a gentrified area of Harlem. As in, when I moved in, things were nice and brown, and there is more cream in my coffee everyday. Suffice it to say that I like my coffee black, but I'll move on.
Anywhoo, the Rite Aid below my building came after the cream did, since you know, black coffee doesn't need conveniences like pharmacies and UPS stores. Nope, black coffee just needs bodegas and check cashing spots. Oh yeah, and little stalls to buy phone cards, white tees and weaves. Right. Back to the point. So I grew up in the 'burbs, and I know how things are supposed to go in drugstores.
In drugstores, everything except the stuff behind the register is self-serve. Candy, batteries, toasters, razors, apple juice. Not so in my oppressive, caught-in-the-midst of the "new Harlem Renaissance" Rite Aid. Not only do you have to step over the big blue bins of product that block just about anything you could possibly want, you also have to go ask the clerks if you want some of the simplest things. One time, I needed a charger for my cell phone. A cheap, $20 universal charger. I found it, right up front, and tried to take it off the rack, but it was stuck. Confused, I asked the cashier what was wrong. "Oh, you need the magnetic key for that". Ummm, okay. So now cell phone chargers are akin to loud leather jackets in City Blue stores in hood malls? You're really going to tie them down so I don't steal them?
Maybe. I let that slide. I've seen crackheads selling phone chargers before, so maybe they have a point. But then today, I needed a personal trimmer to keep my sideburns under control. Quick trip to the Rite Aid downstairs, right? Not when there is still some black coffee in the cup. Nope. You know black coffee likes that five-finger discount. Once there is enough cream in the coffee, maybe everything will be self-serve. But for now, one can only purchase a $10 personal trimmer by finding a listless employee to remove it for you. And I highly doubt that there is a black market for personal trimmers .
Friday, January 25, 2008
Yesterday I happened upon a rerun of one of the scariest shows ever: MTV's I Want a Famous Face. In case you don't remember the show, random people would have excessive plastic surgery in an effort to look like whatever famous person they idolized. Frightening, right?
So yesterday, the episode was about a girl who wanted to look like Britney Spears. Now, note that the show was produced back in Britney's heyday, before the marriages, the babies, the divorce and the meltdowns. Anyway, this chick already slightly resembled Britney, but wanted to look more like her, and to be like her as well. So here she went, ruining her credit and dignity, having several surgeries, starving herself, and even taking stripper lessons.
Little did she know that she should have practiced meeting deadbeat PWT, birthing and neglecting kids, going to public restrooms without her shoes and wearing visible hair weave plugs. But in all honestly, what worried me about this show was the lack of psychological help that was offered to these people. I'm rather concerned that MTV found it appropriate to document these people's sicknesses (other subjects included a transvestite who wanted to look like Jennifer Lopez) and act like they didn't need immediate and intensive mental assistance. But then again, these are the same people who produced Fanatic, the show were a black girl once met with some random pop star--I think it was Jessica Simpson-- and happily talked about how she had dyed her hair blonde and was bald, but it all okay, as long as she got to meet Jessica.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
I always knew something was wrong with Kansas, and this confirms it. Now, I'll admit. When I heard Heath Ledger had died, I immediately thought of Clint Eastwood, and while I was sad, I was like "Ehh, he lived a fairly long life. Not so devastating . . .". Well, after being shamed by my much more pop-culture savvy friend, I learned that Heath Ledger was in fact 28, and the father of a toddler, making the situation a lot more tragic.
Anyway, the guy is dead, right? And here come the crazy people. And yup, they're from Kansas. And yes, they're radical Christians. Crazy, Christian, and from Kansas. A very bad combination indeed. And you thought Islamic Extremists in Fallujah were to blame for all of the world's problems!
So these crazy people in Kansas sat around an decided that because Heath Ledger played a gay man in a movie, he doesn't deserve the respect one would afford any other dead person, or even, say, a dead laboratory rat. They 've decided to protest his funeral during a family-building outing with other members of the Westboro Baptist Church. Because thats what all good Christians do, right? Launch graveside assaults against mourning individuals because the deceased had the nerve to play a gay actor in a movie. God Bless America!
This is what one of the progressive church members had to say:
"He (Ledger) got on that big screen with a big, fat message: God is a liar and it's OK to be gay". Did he really? Or did he get on that big screen and say his lines from the script? I don't recall Heath Ledger saying that God is a liar, or that its okay to be gay, but I do think that its NOT okay to be that crazy, and meet up with a bunch of other crazy folks in the name of religion.
Just my thoughts though. As well, I guess they might protest my funeral too. For shame.