fun facts about the world

On Saturday it was old-timers day. Throughout the Major Leagues at stadiums across America, old players who were not yet dead or crippled gave the fans a glimpse at some stars of yesteryear.

While all of this cutsey-poo holding hands with daddy shit was going on, I was out in Brooklyn with my homie Abraham for some man-sized afternoon drinking and gambling at the OTB.

I’m not sure how many of my readers have been to the OTB (or even if I have readers), but since most of you are under the age of 65, I’d say most likely if any of you have ever ventured inside an OTB, it was for some reason other than to play the ponies. Like maybe to use the bathroom (there aren’t any) or to seek refuge from a gang of marauding teenagers with razor blades. While you can’t actually drink or smoke inside the OTB, there was a little fucking Mexican spot, complete with 3$ Coronas (no limes, man up playgirl) and decent tacos right down the street.

Anyway, let me break down the scene for you as best as I can. Outside of the OTB, there are some guys with yellow stained fingers, drinking out of coffee cups (but not drinking coffee) and chain smoking while staring in at the television monitors. Inside, almost everyone looks exactly the same. Middle to late middle-aged white guys with short-sleeved shirts tucked in, white hair and loafers. I felt like we were at old-timers day and they were the retired players and me and Abraham were Melky Cabrera and Robinson Cano. It’s crazed, you really feel like an outsider invading their world of elderly gambling, it’s nuts. I wonder if there are any people who go to OTB on the reg that don’t end up looking like some composite of all those other broken faces and ripped tickets. Either that, or it’s back to sitting around those benches getting written off like expenses, thinking how shits expensive and hoping that sounded pensive.

At the end of the day I was up like $20, mainly due to catching a 5-9 exacta in the 6th at Arlington. I’m a motherfucking hustler.

Hiya!

Shit has been pretty nervous the last day or so here in NYC. I’m sure everyone is up on the explosions in London’s subway (they call it the tube and you can drink beers in it, its fucking awesome. Sometimes I would just get a couple of purple tins (thats Tennants Super, you filthy animals) and ride around in circles getting bevvied) and on the double decker bus. It’s ironic that while my man Tony Blair "Witch Project" and Bush et al. were all sitting around, having brunch and pontificating about African debt relief and other non-factors in my daily life, terrorist cells were executing an attack.

I feel as though that’s not that dissimilar to answering your cell phone as someone is in the process of robbing you. It just don’t make no fucking sense.

Basically Grand Central and Marlebone are the same place. Shit is no good.

In other news, we are on orange alert. Did you know that NY state only gets 68 million dollars a year for homeland security?? Do you know what pork barreling is (it’s not the same thing as hogging) and how places like Alaska have more homeland security $ than they know what to do with. Everytime we go on Orange Alert here in NYC, it costs city taxpayers $5 million. Does everyone feel safe now?

In happier news……Pass the stem.

This is a post about Crazy Horse brand malt liquor, and if there is time I may offer some comments about women and their general inability to function in society.

Crazy Horse malt liquor used to be sold all over the place in the city (New York City). It looks like (and probably is) it was made by the same people who make Arizona Iced Tea (which is way too sweet, except the green tea).

Crazy Horse malt liquor came into the national spotlight when a bunch of Native Americans (or "indians" as they like to be called) caught feelings about their leader being used by the White Man to sell malt liquor to the White Man. Personally, I felt bad for the little land losers. Then I realized that they were all filthy rich from their casino operations. Fuck Jack Abramoff. Anyway, there is this funny petition online.

http://www.indians.org/welker/crazhor1.htm -My first ever hyperlink in the blog. Its as close as I’m gonna get to the feeling of losing my virginity.

Anyway, if you are like me, you probably don’t enjoy listening to some pussies in upstate NY ramble on about something that’s not too important in the first place, so I’ll summarize the funniest part of their argument, other than the fact that they had time to make it in the first place.

"First, in attempting to create a romantic image for your brand of alcohol, you have used stereotypes about "savage" Indian fighters, demonstrating and spreading a lack of understanding of who Crazy Horse was and what he was fighting for. Secondly, by using his name to sell alcohol you are further contributing to one of the worst stereotypes of Native Americans, that of the "drunk Indian."

Man is that some funny shit.

Anyway, they used to sell Crazy Horse (or "the horse" as I call it) at a couple of different spots in my neighborhood and stores in cyph’s neighborhood back when he lived in hat land. There was also a deli by 106th and Park that I knew of, but since I stopped buying drugs in Spanish Harlem, I have very little reason to go there.

So I’m basically saying, if you know where they sell Crazy Horse, let me know.

.

. beer is to drink.

.

.

Yo, I’ve been working in the "customer service" field for like 15 months or so and I come into contact with a lot of people who need me to help them out. Without fail, it is ALWAYS some woman who has 100’s of questions that she already knows the answer to. I’m not saying that I don’t deal with my fair share of stupid dudes, but they have some shame. Men also seem to know when they are sounding stupid and making fools of themselves (when there is no alcohol involved) and they don’t usually think it’s cute or endearing to not know simple things.

Only women (and strangely men from England) seem to think that sitting around and answering questions about passports gets my cock hard.

Only women read the sign that says "how to pay: credit and debit cards are not accepted as payment" and ask me with a straight face "can I use my little debit card?" -this actually happened this morning.

Only women start to cry (well there was one man, but he was like 80) when something doesn’t turn out the way they wanted because they can’t follow simple directions.

Only women seem to think that the laws don’t apply to them and that exceptions should be made specifically for them.

Why the fuck is this?

I swear women come in here just to get some mental image of me, under the guise of being stupid and needing help with their passport application, then rush home and touch themselves.

I’ll leave you with this last thought.

"You may be unaware of the sad history of the use of alcohol by Europeans as a tool to exploit Natives."

The other day there was some big concerts across the world for the purpose of urging leaders at the G8 summit this week to cancel Africa’s debt. Lots of people I assumed were dead for years performed. (where the fuck is my debt relief?).

I was going to make a long argument basically stating that, (just like tsunami relief) while its nice that so many people in this amazing country feel compelled to help strangers in far-off lands, perhaps they should take some responsibility for their own backyards and neighbors and THEN worry about whats going on in Africa and Asia.

I understand that people aren’t the ones relieving debt, countries are. But a lot of fucking people were doing things like watching the show and texting unite to some cell phone number. Maybe if African countries (and any other country that owes us cake) paid us the fucking money we were owed, the MTA wouldn’t be underfunded. Or anything that would make my life marginally better could happen.

I’m not being cruel here, but we’ve seen how Africa has come a long way in 20 years since the last Live Aid. Debt relief is not the answer, and people who did a lot more research than me proved in various other places that free trade policy, a viable government in Africa and a bunch of other shit are all factors that would be more helpful in alleviating poverty.

Then there was also this amazing quote I saw from Kanye West, who spends lots of time sounding really, really ignorant in front of the microphone.

" The concept of AIDS alone - my parents always told me, who are activists - that it’s a man-made disease in the first place that was placed in Africa just like crack was placed in the black community to break up the Black Panther (black activists) party."

Someone should place some crack in Iraq, it’ll break up the insurgency. Or we could place some crack in the White House and break up the Bush administration.

Get the fuck out of here.