fun facts about the world

Here is some shit for y’all to peep, in lieu of a real post.

http://www.ny1.com/ny1/content/index.jsp?stid=1&aid=55241 -Man shoots cop. Man shoots another cop. Too late for Time Magazine to reconsider man of the year?

http://www.slate.com/id/2131125/nav/tap2/ -Some predictions regarding the nature of "President" Bush’s speech tomorrow. You may have remembered me making the "resisting occupation and being a terrorist aren’t the same thing argument in the past", apparently Slate hopped on the bandwagon.

Dip Set sued. Yo, you gotta clear samples in 2005 guys. Lay off the piff. http://www.allhiphop.com/hiphopnews/?ID=5105

First "they" killed MLK, then JFK (I may be off on that), now Caesar. http://www.hbo.com/rome/

Billy Wagner commits career hari-kari and signs with the Mets. Carlos Delgado refuses to stand at his funeral. http://sports.espn.go.com/mlb/news/story?id=2239708

Busta Rhymes cut his dreads after 15 years. There is actually a video clip of this as well. http://www.allhiphop.com/hiphopnews/?ID=5099

If my health improves, I may begin my "sexism in commercials" series tomorrow. Try not to cum all over yourself in anticipation.

Michael Irving, a former great wide receiver who is now mainly known for his not so in-depth analysis of football for ESPN has been arrested (once again) on drug-paraphernalia charges.

Irving, who insists this is somehow a mistake, claims: "that the drug pipe found in his car belonged to a friend of 17 years who left a Houston rehab center and came to [his] house in Carrollton for Thanksgiving. He wouldn’t reveal his friend’s name."

Honestly, why don’t crackheads make better backup plans? Being a crackhead means living a life where "just in case" is an everyday occurrence. I mean, the whole "it’s not mine mom, I’m holding it for a friend -I swear" excuse didn’t work in high school and it sure as hell doesn’t work in the real world. Still, people would do well to take note that Michael Irving is a real man and he DOES NOT SNITCH. STOP SNITCHING!!

"Irving also said he put the pipe in his car because he didn’t want it in his house where his children might find it. He said he planned to drive somewhere the next day, like a grocery trash bin, and throw the pipe away but forgot."

First of all, what sort of household are you running where you will allow someone fresh out of rehab to be around your children?

Secondly, assuming the children found the pipe, they would need to cop yay and cook it before it would do them any good. What sort of fucking kids are digging through the garbage anyway?

Oh, word, those starving kids in New Jersey, my bad. Besides in terms of danger to a child, those big 5-cent peppermints (which killed two kids in the city in a matter of days last year, if you recall) clearly pose more of a risk than a crack pipe ever did.

Thirdest, everyone who is anyone will tell you that it is easy as shit to break a stem. Hell, rap it in a newspaper and step on it. Viola, now instead of a "drug pipe" (the media, showing some rare compassion didn’t call it a crack pipe, which it obviously was) you have some broken glass, which can be thrown away in the regular garbage, or recycled -if you please.

Also, there are obviously a few places in his house he doesn’t allow his children to go, for example, the liquor cabinet, the gun cabinet, the porno booth and a host of other nooks and crannies off-limits to the kids -why not hide it there? I mean, with a little foresight the pipe would still be sitting on the mantle in the cocaine room and his children and the police would be none the wiser.

Whip-whip yay.

Put that in your stem and base it.

An article in the NY Post (aka the only newspaper I read during the week) about the possibility of a high-profile mobster having his sentence shortened caught my attention this morning, mainly because it was on the front page. Basically, my countrymen are being persecuted for killing other criminals. If we reward people for snitching over the telephone to 1-800-cop-shot, wouldn’t it stand to reason that we also rewarded people who actually went above and beyond the call of duty and killed the leaders of criminal organizations? Or, as I like to say, those who have dialed 1-800-WOP-SHOT.

Based on anecdotal evidence from the fictional Elmore Leonard book "The Hot Kid" (incidentally, not about me) which takes place in the wild west, (not to be confused with the wild middle-east) -our government used to reward people for killing wanted criminals. I can only imagine that once the Italians started doing the killing, the laws changed. Shame on you, American justice system. First Sacco and Vanzetti and now this.

Also, the criminal in question, Anthony "Tony the Roach" Rampino was convicted for murdering a trial witness. Well, maybe if the witness could have stopped snitching long enough to draw first, he would still be alive. Really, who should be in jail here - "Tony the Roach" or the judge who "forced a prosecutor to publicly identify [the snitching deceased] as the secret witness at the murder trial of [Tony the Roach's] drug-gang boss?" Hmmm. If you ain’t getting bagged, stay the fuck from police. Can I get a witness (killed)?

If one continues to look at the Roach’s rap sheet, it seems as though the police at least share some of the guilt for selling "Tony the Roach" $30,000 of heroin. What was a police officer doing with that much brown, seducing Kate Moss? Entrapping Italians, that’s what.

And should we really continue to punish someone whose nickname is "Tony the Roach" -I mean hasn’t life already been cruel enough?

Fucking Tony the Tiger was released years ago, and last I checked one of the conditions of his parole was that he avoid all contact with children. Which he is clearly ignoring. Why don’t the police care? Because he isn’t Italian, that’s why.

Well look at you motherfucker, reading my blog. Well done old chap, and all that fly shit. I’m going to start working on a new style of post where, when I have no point, I’ll just kinda bounce around to various items which have piqued my interest since the last time I posted. Kind of a "wrap up" - if you will.

You don’t like?? You don’t buy. (Upon further review this is not what I wound up doing with this post, maybe in the future…who knows? Jesus, that’s who.)

As I was on the train heading to the Bronx to chill with Mr. Martinez on Saturday, quietly reading my book and minding my own business, I realized that NYC is overpopulated with people who don’t know how to shut the fuck up.

First a homeless guy comes through the cars, loudly explaining his plight and asking for money. I didn’t give him any because I wasn’t in the mood. I prefer to donate to the silent, desperate looking homeless people who position themselves on street corners, avoiding the flow of foot traffic. Let your sign be your voice, I always say.

Literally, less than a minute later, I hear another homeless man giving a very similar speech about the hard times he has fallen on, and again, I decline his offer to accept my charity. Hey MTA, the "give to charity, just not here" posters don’t work if you don’t eject homeless people from the subway system when you see them begging. Also, you aren’t fooling anyone with those "he may be without a home, but he is not without help" signs that indicate the MTA employs social workers to wander around helping whatever homeless people they may come into contact with. I think I’ve mentioned in the past that the MTA are a bunch of no-good, low-life, ill-mannered motherfuckers who do not care about homeless people and have piss-poor accounting skills. Whew!

So, I’ve become a little flustered now, having to go out of my way to avoid eye-contact twice in two minute. Then, right on cue, my man selling The Street News -which is kinda like a newspaper version of FUBU for homeless people- enters the car SCREAMING for us to buy his paper. I remember back in the day the Street News people used to have sandwiches and juice to hand out to any homeless or hungry people they came across. This guy had no food, since Roodee diverted all those funds to his HAS’s (Homeless Assassination Squads).

Hey "no homo", maybe if you sold $5 packs of Newports you could raise some money and make a difference. The NYPost costs a fucking quarter and has more content than I would know what to do with on an hour-long train trip.

So, at this point I’m at a loss for what to do, when a very large man sits down next to me, taking up much more than his allotted one seat. Through some act of God, instead of talking to me, he takes out what looks like a child’s version of the Bible and begins to read. I imagine he reads slowly.

No less than five minutes later, some ornery 40-something white man begins grilling the guy next to me and approaches him by saying "what does your bible say about God?" - this was not a question which had a correct answer. Whitey McReligion had clearly already decided that the homeless men and the Street News floor-show were merely the opening act to his impassioned evangelical SCREAMING.

As Mr. McReligion began what I assume to be a long speech full of words like "god" and "repent", I shook my head and changed cars. It would have been some sick irony if I had been ticketed by 5’s for doing so while the train was in motion.

Sticking with the MTA theme, has anyone else spent anytime recently in the passage between the 6 and the 7 in Grand Central? The Mexicans selling bootleg DVD’s, churros and playing annoying music while battery-operated dolls dance around have really taken over. Literally, they layout their blankets full of illegally duplicated DVD’s and block about half of the pedestrian walkway, and I’ve never seen one of them arrested. How is this possible? I mean, if you are going to enter our country illegally and then illegally duplicate products (Mexico doesn’t care about intellectual property rights) and not pay taxes on your illegal income, can you at least get the fuck out of my way during rush hour?

Am I being unreasonable?

I was watching TV last night and I saw that the first season of "Scrubs" was coming out on DVD. Being unable to make the voices stop unless I’m multi-tasking, I was also eating broccoli and pasta, while reading the NYTimes Magazine. You’ll notice I read it every weekend, as if to make up for all the plebeian misinformation I get from the NYPost during the week. Even now, I’m listening to music, writing this, drinking coffee, at work and scheming ways to get rich. I could probably also be doing two-three other things (smoking a cigarette, playing tennis) however being in an office really does limit the possibilities.

Anyway, I present to you my ideas, all of them bad, about ways to get rich.

Why doesn’t someone release the news on DVD? Like October 1st- October 31st 2005 Box Set now available? Cake city.

If everyone in the world gave you just 25cents, you would be stupid rich. Take a cue from TLC who said "I ain’t too proud to beg." You’re telling me you have more pride than the ladies who brought us "Red Light Special"? Stop fronting homepiss.

How hard could it really be to rob a bank? Criminals get away with it all the time and they are stupid. Get something that looks reasonably like a gun (*a 3 Musketeers bar maybe), a disguise and a note that says something to the effect of "give me the money or I will kill you, believe that." It is important to remember in these days of "dna" and "fingerprints" not to touch anything or allow any "genetic material" to stay behind. Robbing banks was probably a lot easier back in the day, but don’t let that stop you.

Own a credit card company. They are basically glorified loan sharks, but instead of breaking your legs for non-payment, they just follow you around forever, sort of like financial herpes.

Pimp your boy/girlfriend(s). Or better yet, find a boy/girlfriend with money. And rob him/her. Or better yet, find a pimp and rob him. Shit, rob him and his hoes. Rob him for his hoes. Wait until Halloween and rob someone dressed up as a pimp. Wait until Halloween, dress like a pimp yourself and rob real hoes. The possibilities are endless. It’s a cash business. Did anyone see that movie American Pimp? What about American Beauty? American Psycho? American Pie? Hello, anyone there?

Hard work. Nah, that’s so American dream. And honestly, the term hard work offends me. Does there exist work that isn’t hard? Perhaps, but in my mind the continued suspension of free will while doing any sort of work is enough to automatically make it hard, if not the task itself, for the amount of concentration necessary to put ones dreams on hold while completing it. Being a male porn star or Ambassador to the Netherlands are notable exceptions and I’m sure there are others.

Talk shit on the Internet in hopes that someone will email you (or send you a telegram) saying "*yo James, your work is brilliant and refreshing. Not only do I want to offer you an opportunity to steer the creative direction of our enterprise, but my daughters are waiting in your bed, eager to fellate you while you smoke an L and watch the Saints game."

Speaking of the Saints, gamble on sports. Has anyone ever NOT got rich doing this? If you are too shook to gamble, become a bookie. The morons gambling on sports always lose anyway. Suckers.

Wait until something tragic happens, raise money for charity and then keep it for yourself. Feel free to call this the Katrina-9/11 scheme. If you are caught, you will go to jail, however you’re willing to take those risks. After all, you just robbed a bank and a pimp. On Halloween.

Invent a new language. I tried this once, and man did it prove to be difficult and I certainly didn’t get rich. Perhaps you will have better luck. Perhaps.

Helloweraseamlessonargumentertainmentholidays.

hello lower erase seamless lesson sonar argument entertainment menthol holidays.

See, it is very difficult to actually make sense "speaking" this "language" and I doubt it will ever translate into riches (ha!). Honestly though, if you tried to explain the basis of my language to people on the train, your chances of them giving you 25 cents would go WAY up.

—–I started toying with footnotes a while back and fell off, but here they are again, in all their glory.——————

*1 Does anyone remember, back in like 98 or so when that cop clapped that kid for holding a 3 Musketeers bar? I sure do.

*2 The fictional person on the other end would address you by your name, and not call you James, which is my name. They would also give you lots of money for steering said enterprise -thus making it a way to get rich.

Many of you have probably seen "Da Ali G Show" on HBO and are familiar with the character of Borat. Borat (fictional, mind you) is supposed to be a television host from Kazakhstan -which Reuters claims is the "world’s ninth largest country" . The general premise of his character is that things are ass-backwards in Kazakhstan and he is learning about the customs of the civilized world for his viewers back in the ’stan. As Borat, he does shit on the ’stan, but he only does so as part of a larger attempt to shit on his interview subjects -which he does remarkably well.

In an incident last year that caused an uproar among the unwitting racists it outed, Borat (who is, once again, a fictitious person) showed that even in Americas bible belt, anti-semitism is still alive.

http://inhonor.net/videos/uped/fl_video.php?f_num=92500

It should be noted that the person (real) Sacha Cohen who plays the character of Borat and Ali G (and the gay-fashionista whose name escapes me) is in fact Jewish -which means that through the character of Borat he has helped unify the world through jokes -not unlike what I’m trying to do here. Maybe they should call him Martin Luther Cohen.

Anyway, after his appearance at the MTV Europe Awards the Kazakh government has threatened MLCohen with legal action and questioned if his whole Borat act was designed just to humiliate the ’stan those who live there.

"We do not rule out that Mr. Cohen is serving someone’s political order designed to present Kazakhstan and its people in a derogatory way," Kazakh Foreign Ministry spokesman Yerzhan Ashykbayev told a news briefing.

Hey "Yerzhan" no one, and I mean NO ONE had even heard of Kazakhstan before Da Ali G Show -personally, I was shocked that spell check recognized it. In fact if someone ever said "Kazakhstan" to me before I had seen the show I would have told them in a polite voice "It’s pronounced "pack-is-tan, moron."

It seems as though the specific false-claims about the ’stan which caused the beef were "Cohen’s earlier jokes, including claims that the people would shoot a dog and then have a party, and that local wine was made from fermented horse urine."

Honestly, if you have to go out of your way to tell people that your countries wine isn’t made from horse urine and that shooting a dog is not cause for celebration, it’s time to move.

This is my 100th post. I’d like to highlight some of my amazing accomplishments since I began doing this shit some 7 months ago, but I have accomplished nothing through the blog at all.

I haven’t hurt myself badly or been arrested, and as always, solace can be taken in that.

So here is some jumbled nonsense commemorating the previous 99 instances of jumbled nonsense. At the very least, my spelling is beginning to return to pre-Katrina levels (although having spelled canceled wrong about 15 times today is humbling).

My weekend, serving as a microcosm for my life, sucked. I hardly even have any tree left and our show on 11.26 got canceled (through no fault of our own). And excluding eternal life in heaven, doing that show was the only thing I was really looking forward to. I joke. But as always, when it rains it pours. You’ve got to remain positive (read, drunk) in the face of adversity.

Once again, Nike has shown us the way with their Dwayne Wade commercials. "If you fall down 7 times, get up 8." Huh?

I don’t understand the "woe is me" outlook. I’ve always been much more of a "whoa is me" type of cat.

Speaking of which, I’m sure everyone remembers both Black Rob (of "Whoa" fame) and Joey Lawrence (of "Blossom" fame). I always wanted to do a re-mix of "Whoa" with Joey Lawrence saying the "like whoa" part in the voice of his character from Blossom. I’ve done a lot of drug and it sure makes for amusing tangents.

I was reading "Timequake"  by Kurt Vonnegut last week and there was an interesting line which caught my attention. So this king asked his wise men to come up with a sentence that would be true at all times. They came back to him with the sentence "And one day this too shall pass."

I like it as a catch-all because it sufficiently explains away the negative AND the positive aspects of any situation.

Thanks to everyone that has read the blog, forwarded it to someone, linked me or commented in the superfluous comment section. If you ever write anything, I’ll be more than glad to read it.

Milestones are just rocks. And one day this too shall pass.

Big Pun, one of my favorite rappers and the first Latin rapper to go platinum, would have turned 34 today. RIP PUN!

His lyrics from "Whacha Gon Do" from the Terror Squad Album:

It’s hard to explain how my squad can harbor the strain
of being the largest name in rap, since the almighty Kane
Acknowledge the fame, my call was to reign the streets
from Harlem to Queens, back to the Bronx who fathered the dream
Started this thing called rap, where I reign supreme, my team
Regardless of that, I’ve seen things as far as the crack
that’ll make the hardest largest artist heart just collapse
I’m part of all that that’s why it’s so hard to go back
and start from scratch
I’m locked and I’m trapped, in a giant cage
Tryin to savor these few dyin days
I have left, to the form of flesh; should I lie in my grave?
I’m tryin to persuade, my motto is try to be brave
and not give death the satisfaction of seein me dyin afraid
That why I rise from the grave singin church songs like
I was Je-sus Christ pa-rum-pum-pum-pum

RIP BIG PUN 1971-2000

  "P-A-N-T-S-O-F-F…YAY!"

First of all, I’m not quite clear on how homegirl on the right ever got to be a cheerleader with that face (I’m sure it involved something that rhymes with "pots of grow-globs") but one thing is for sure: The Carolina Panthers cheerleaders get things crunk.

I was poised to do a scathing expose (I don’t know how to add the accents) about campaign literature today, but after checking www.badmintonstamps.com (notorious Chronikill collaborators), I decided that this issue was decidedly more pressing.

Stolen from espn.com (which, after pasting, begs the question "why did I waste my time including their pictures on top?"):

"Two Carolina Panthers cheerleaders who witnesses told police were having sex with each other in a bathroom stall at a Tampa, Fla., nightclub were arrested and charged early Sunday following a run-in with patrons and police.

	Thomas

	Keathley

According to a police report obtained by the CBS TV affiliate in Tampa and the Charlotte Observer, Angela Ellen Keathley and Renee Thomas were arrested following an incident at Banana Joe’s, in Tampa’s Channelside district, at 2:10 a.m. ET."

I’ve certainly been in the situation before where two girls have pushed their way to the front of the bathroom line all drunk and sloppy and then locked themselves in and spent tens of minutes in what I could only assume was a coke-fueled-love-fest. It’s pretty annoying, but it’s nothing to call the police over. Hell, if you play your cards right you can be the lucky bastard doing bumps off boobies. However as a drug-free virgin, I know nothing of that life.

On Halloween this year I was at a party waiting my turn for the WC (or doubley-vay say as they say in France) when two girls (whom I had never met before and weren’t even hot) locked themselves in the bathroom. This went on for about 15 minutes as the line grew longer and the people in line became increasingly angered. My solution was to loudly tell everyone else in the line that they were doing cocaine in the bathroom (under the guise of concern). "Oh my god, what if they both OD’D and we were just standing here in line. I’m actually kinda worried. I heard she had a real problem with drugs in high-school." -I told people with a serious and concerned expression on my face. When the two bladder buddies finally emerged a few minutes later everyone was giving them the "judgment stare" and shaking their heads.

See, no police necessary. And if it had become really important to use the bathroom, I would have pissed off the fire escape- because I’m good like that.

Back to the Carolina Panthers, who probably thought that their string of bad publicity was done after Panther WR Rae Carruth (best link ever, btwhttp://www.nndb.com/people/477/000086219/ ) was convicted of murdering his baby momma and stuffing her into the trunk of a car. (I’m pretty sure he is only doing 18 years too)

Making the best out of a bad situation, Cam’ron (Dipset, bitch!) said shortly afterward that he would "Junk you up/ then trunk you up like Rae Carruth/" and everything was in fact better. Now the sports world waits in eager anticipation of what Cam’ron will say about this most recent blunder by the Panthers.

One thing is for sure: "you can find them ho’s at Banana Joe’s" -which has been doing increased business since this incident took place. No word yet if they will pull a move similar to Katz Deli, (who put up a sign commemorating the famous "When Harry Met Sally" table at their restaurant) by making the "When Angela Met Renee" stall in their bars bathroom.

I’ll keep you posted.

You guys probably remember my post a long, long time ago when Natalee Holloway (herein referred to as "Nat-Hol") first went missing about how I would be bagged in a second in a Aruba. It’s still there if you want to go back and find it, but the point is that this whole thing happened a long time ago.

Now, seemingly as a direct response to me calling the desirability of Alabama into question just hours ago, the Governor of Alabama has asked the American people to boycott Aruba because the "authorities" aren’t cooperating with the Nat-Hol’s family.

Basically Aruba is an amazing place. If you have an opportunity to go there, you should.

Upon further review, I have been to Alabama and it is, to be nice, not as beautiful as Aruba. It is beautiful, but in a "racist gas station" sort of way.

If you live in Alabama, chances are you would have killed Nat-Hol yourself just for a fleeting moment to stroll upon the white-sand shores while sipping an island cocktail and holding your lovers hand. Or to stroll the white-sand shores while double-fisting island cocktails by yourself with no lover, whatever suits your fancy.

I mean, it’s not good whenever someone who doesn’t deserve to die, does. But that sentiment and some remedial English classes will improve my sentence structure.

In other news, my newly founded rap group "The Kalpoe Bros." has been doing some press in anticipation of our first album "I’m Deepak, That’s Satish" and the reaction has been great. Thanks for the support, we’ll be coming soon to an island near you!