Administrator — July 24, 2008, 10:14 pm

I’m a Wanna Be

After watching CNN’s “Black in America”, I’ve come up with several thoughts. Numero Uno, they didn’t tell me anything I didn't already know.  Numero Dos, I think the only people who watched this are people already in the "know,.  On Wendy Williams syndicated talk show a caller said "if they wanted Black people to view they shouldn't of put it on cable,”Black people don't have cable,.  I disagree homeboy, we can have no hot water, rent late– but Comcast or the Satellite folx are either paid or being pilfered by my people.  Yall were watching UPN re-runs or BET, when this aired instead.

With that saying,”I do not want to come across as a nose in the air uppity negro,”I am from poverty,”born, raised and embellished and embedded in the ghetto.  Schooled in the projects,”I've been homeless– as in shelter and hospital lobby living until we got kicked out– homeless.  I know not of an immediate family member that has not been incarcerated.  But I am now a "wanna-be,.  We'll address that later.

Before I address my wanna-be status, I want to address the fact that besides the kabillion reasons we as a people do not get to where we need to be is: because we start where we do.  If you have an effed up upbringing, in an effed up scholastic system, you are either going to be effed up– or a struggling member of this effed up social economic system.  It's a simple as that,–black or white,”that's what you get.

As far as the black male dichotomy- if all you know to achieve success is to hustle,”you hustle. Your father hustled, your cousins hustled, your homeboys hustle, almost nobody in the hood says it's wrong to hustle,”so, you hustle.

Right and wrong is relative,”in my hood, it was semi-wrong to sell drugs, yet it was more imperative to support your household.  So that's semi-wrong versus hero of the family– as a teen- everybody looked the other way.  Why?  Because we had been down so long,”narrow meals, no hot water, late mortgage,”until: "Lil A "got a few thousands dollars!,

The problem is even as money came in- this became a profession.  And as in any profession– it is passed to younger partakers.  So we as black folx pass on a history of illicit activities to our youth,”whereas our counterparts pass on anything from rehabilitating used tires to real estate,”we only know what we know.   And that usually is something that will not benefit us in the long run.

It's hard to be shit when you come from shit.  I love my parents and everything,”but they came from shit.  My family can yell and scream as much as they want,”but we weren't shit.  My parents independently decided that they were going to be some shit.  And separately they did that.  My mom sold my birth home and bought a Lincoln Continental and dated a lawyer and my dad after prison became a Dentist and entrepreneur.  OK now yall the shit, problem is,”your children still aren't shit.

My children gonna be the shit because, I don't partake in this cycle of nothingness,”my children will be the shit.  My daughter has skipped so many grades I have to consider to keep her back.

The reality of the matter is,”we were all the shit,”every one of us, we never had the drive,”the opportunity to be the shit,”we are the shit!  We're making over 100K, we're making movies, we're living a non-felonious lifestyles, we're raising children,”we're even attempting to bring fellow peers out of the lifestyle.

Fuck what you may think,”we the shit!

Part Deux

I am where I am at.  I'm here because I'm a "wanna-be,.  I don't want to be white or want to be anything but what I am.  I'm a wanna-be because I saw people living,”without fear of being evicted, without fear of being killed, without fear of being arrested.  I wanted that.  Fuck a color, creed, socio-economic-status, gender, lifestyle,”I wanted to be me, and a I jumped through the hoops to be a wanna-be,”I wanna-be living, I wanna-be not locked up,  I wanna-be not shot at,  I wanna-be a home owner, I will still be that muthafucka from North Philly,”your brother,”your homey– but all in all,”moreover everything,”I will be who I want god people to aspire to be,”me.

 Bottom line CNN and black folx,”we are all you made us out to be.  There were no black people on the mayflower,”we were brought here for a purpose.  Until the residual effects of slavery wear off,”things will not change,”and that will never happen.  Even after change comes.  And OB'08 is the start.  Vote and Please save your children.         

Administrator — October 29, 2007, 8:53 pm

Ize Married Now


Administrator — July 30, 2007, 11:05 am

Man’s Best Friend

I think this is much to do about nothing.  I hate PETA.


Administrator — February 20, 2007, 5:18 pm

Our TV Show

Season One Episode 1 Taalam Acey & One Wise African
Season One Episode 2 One Wise African
Season One Episode 3 Beny Blaq & Hanalyn Colvin
Season One Episode 4 Love the Poet & Che Ray
Season One Episode  5 E. The Poet Emcee, Naima J. & Fredlocks of Mic Life
Season One Episode 6 Jahipster & Lady Wisdom
Season One Episode 7 Gayle Danley & E Baby

Administrator — November 30, 2006, 1:45 pm

Giant Among Men


Anybody that knows me and sees that picture probably thinks I’m bigging up my Cowboys also known as Big D.  When my Cowboys beat the Giants this Sunday top of my list was to go talk shit to my boy “Big D” a staunch Giants fan.  I just found out he passed in his sleep a few days ago.  I always find it so suprising and remoresfully sad when someone I know from other realms of life die.  I mean I have friends that have been dancing around bullets for years and when the music stops I go “damn”.  When I heard D passed I went “Noooooooooooo, What??? WTF???”.  It’s one of them unexpected sad, sad things that really shake you.  He was a cool jovial dude who bartended at The Midtown Yatch Club here in Baltimore a few blocks from my house, yet I met him years and years ago when both of us were on the same side of the bar chugging down beers and berating eachother’s teams.  Rest in peace Big D, may God bless your soul–you were definitely loved by many, many people.

Administrator — November 13, 2006, 9:25 am

I’m on T.V.

This is our new TV show, soon to be broadcast on Comcast Baltimore/Anne Arundel County, but thank God for the internet–here’s the first episode. 

Click here

Administrator — November 10, 2006, 12:05 pm

Tis Is I–Tif

So I throw a monthly happy hour, social and invite a few fellow bloggers.  It was a slow night, my DJ and a few friends decided to host a concert for some dude named Clifford Smith so the vibe was slightly different, and my crew of lesbian lushes didn’t show.  Fellow bloggers TTD and GTL who are also a couple showed up and we shared a few drinks when we realized GTD works with Micki and TTD works with me–dooo dooo dooo doo– dooo dooo dooo dooo.  Anyways after watching the undefeated NCAA football game and cackling about how one of my boys got clocked in the head with Micki’s umbrella at 1am last weekend when his girlfriend found it in her car after he gave us a ride home–we headed home slightly inebriated.  Typical night.

Here’s where it gets interesting.  One of my boys who was also at the spot with us with his new girl who left prior to us leaving gives me a call.  He says his girl left and went to a club and was drugged and he just recovered her laying on a curb and returned her home.  Now he wants to go “get the motherfucker”.  I want to look out for my boy and any female taken advantage of but I got a “we will lock your black ass up for 10 years if you ever lay your hand on another human being in the next five years” clause hanging round my head– well for at least two more years.  So he assures me that I have to do nothing–so I tell him if he gets permission from my guardian–I will roll out.  Micki hears the story: “she was drugged??? let’s be out” and I trade in my slacks for something in black and we all roll out to the club.  It was closed.  so we meet up with our boy–an old school rapper from back in the days and we go bar to bar to find this mofo (we had a description). 

Unfortunately encyclopedia brown Micki also had a description of the drugged girlfriend.  Not unfortunate for us but for my boy-the boyfriend.  Micki gets the bartender to divulge that yes his girlfriend was in there with another woman and proudly pronouncing her lesbianism before leaving–undrugged.  Also the club that she claimed to be at–which is notorius for drug misuse–has not been open in weeks.

 Moral of the story?  Don’t try to get shit past Micki–not that I ever tried–I aint that stupid.  And that was our night.

 In other very more important news–I’ll believe it when I see it–baby girl is sposed to come home this weekend-9 years early.  We already paid for the plane ticket.  I am in a perpetual state of balled up emotions and will relapse/explode as soon as I am assured she has set foot on American soil.  Pray for us.

Administrator — November 8, 2006, 9:57 am

Through The Wire

BALTIMORE — Baltimore police are still trying to determine the motive for the fatal stabbing of a 17-year-old city girl near a light rail station. It happened shortly after midnight yesterday morning in West Baltimore near the Jones Falls Expressway. Police and family members say Nicole Edmonds and her 16-year-old brother had stepped off a train moments earlier when they were accosted by three men and a woman who got off with them. Two of the men held the brother, while the man and woman chased the girl and stabbed her.

She died 30 minutes later at Shock Trauma. The attack happened as Nicole and her brother were heading home from their jobs at a fast food restaurant in Linthicum.
This is a sad sad story, but what’s even sadder is my speculation that Baltimore Police are up to old tricks.  Every article I read on this story says the light rail stop was in West Baltimore.  Anyone who lives in Baltimore will tell you the light rail doesn’t let off anywhere that would be coined “West Baltimore”.  By the looks of it the incident had to occur somewhere between Falls Road and Timonium–affluent middle to upper-class neighborhoods that don’t want to have a murder in their stats which may affect their property value.  So this murder will be documented as occurring in “West Baltimore”

Administrator — October 19, 2006, 1:04 pm

I’m No Longer a Blogger

Know how I know I’m not? Well as it happens I still read blogs every now and then to keep up with what’s going on in peoples lives. Some old friends some new friends, some folks I never met that I just voyuer across their blogs. So during my blog recap today I notice pics of folks I recently saw out on the town-in my town! I read the blogs and the comments and apparently there was this blog get-together! Clubs, plays, parties etc. Now Bklyndiva (who I’ve known since college–WE ARE PENN STATE!) and Kween who I know thru the artistic circuit in town coulda let a brother know. But nooooo I got read about the folks I saw out having a damn good time this weekend– having a damn good time this weekend. Myself not included. I’m looking at the pics like–aint that the fools that was in my way for the restroom when I needed to drain away like 5 heinekens. I’m looking to see if you can see my impatient arm in some of the pics waiting to run by, while someone yells “one more–take one with mine!”. Oh anyways. I hear TTD and Missy was there as well. Nice to meet yall–NOT.

Administrator — March 8, 2006, 9:29 pm

I’ll Always Love Big Poppa

Biggie Smalls

March 9th is once again upon us, and every March 9th me and my man P-Funk, my favorite and best DJ in the land somehow find a way to pay tribute to Christopher Wallace, AKA Biggie Smalls, AKA Biggie, AKA, B.I.G., AKA The Notorious Big, AKA Big Poppa, AKA Frank White, AKA The King of New York. More often than not we have a show, a party, etc. etc. but this year even though we may attend a tribute show, my homegirl, Brooklyn’s Finest Diva gave me the idea to do it here in blogland. Actually she didn’t give me the idea– it was her idea and being the geek I am, I figured out how I could make it happen.

With that said let me mention my reasoning for my appreciation of Biggie (as I like to affectionately call him as seen in this post). Simply stated, I love Biggie because he sang my life to me. Away in College going from a 100% minority environment to a 3% minority environment– Biggie kept me home, kept my memories of home alive. Negative as they may be, it was like a Roberta Flack song– he was strumming my pain with his fingers, singing my life with his words. Sitting in classes, playing badmitton, eating hot wings and pitchers of beer that wasn’t malt liquor, barbequing with no BBQ sauce– all elements of culture shock– had me grasping for Big. Not the luxurius lifestyle but the constant every day grind– the every day struggle– hustling– every single allusion Biggie makes to hustling– I get, I recall it. I loved it because someone knew my story– and made a song about it. Then as I heard more– the robbery allusions and avoiding being stuck up made me think that Biggie was somehow my brother or my best friend who somehow learned to rap and sent the stories we had been through and news of what was going on to me– in song.

Also, Big in my opinion, in the genre, was and is the greatest lyricist of all times. His rhyme scheme was so abstract it could not be metered. A lot of people put Tupac above Big as a rapper–that’s impossible. Big has not and can not be duplicated– his look maybe– his voice maybe– his rhyme scheme and basic abstract lyricism can not be duplicated– there have been 10 or so Pacs-only one Biggie. As a phenom, as an entity, Tupac was way bigger than Big– hell people still see him at Greyhound stations or whatever. I dug Pac, he was our shining black prince, not to align him with Malcolm but he represented the abivalent situation given our generation. But as far as a rapper he was not Big.

This is my 2006 tribute to Biggie, by blog. Check out the tracks I have here, there are some tracks I guarantee you have never heard, for example Biggie & Frank Sintra tracks mixed, and a never before heard Big song that just surfaced this year “Biggie Got the Hype Shit”. Enjoy– the greatest of all times.

Administrator — , 9:07 am

My Resume (Circa 1999)

To obtain wealth, maintain my health, and achieve the highest level of knowledge of self while maintaining myself, achieving the potential of self while being myself, so I say to myself – self: who am I and why –and why is it so hard obtaining wealth, maintaining my health allthewhile being myself. And myself says—”self: just be yourself”.

1972-1990 School of the Hard Knocks

The streets of Philadelph, Illadelph, make sure you don’t kill yourself
Major: Survival – Degree: Denial

1990-1995 Penn State University – I know you heard of me–40,000 plus –but that was none of us—Culture Shock, Ock

Major: Political Studies, Liberal Studies, Journalistic Studies, Communication Studies—or basically whatever I could study– studies

Degree: Baccalaureate of the “You must be artful to use this degree” arts –with smarts in African America studies.
Don’t expect monies –cuz uh actually you aint from or never been to Africa and you aint guaranteed all your rights as an American
So forget all you can while you attempting to claim African and or American in the meantime being played by the man.


1972-1985: workin on my momma nerves

1985-1992: hustla, playa, convict too misguided youth partime –half conscious blackman fulltime

Duties including but not limited to the following: Gambler, scrambler, coke dealer, gun dealer, genocidal killer, money peeler
And the girl at the end of the block—yes I am feelin her

1992-1995 bustin my ass to thrive and stay alive
learnin schoolin—showin the nonbelievers I aint foolin— around
I aint that same clown that stayed locked down—robbin all the sweet vics around town
Penitentiary or hellward bound—
but best believe—Tif is still down

1995 to the Present: You wouldn’t believe how far I went—psuedo member of the establishment

Duties including but not limited to the following:
ass kisser, non butt kicker—no more malt liquor—finger off the trigger, pockets are thicker, opportunities are bigger, exemplary figure
But yet and still I know—I’m still considered a nigga


Unwilling volunteer: young black man in a society that hates me, bates me, degrades me—blames me
And whose fate we can all see through the disparity—but then again maybe –it’s just me


Over 25 years of life and that’s no hype—a purple heart for all that got lost in the fight and still continue the plight and neglect factors—white

Member: strong black man club
Member: I was amongst a million club
Member: I aint never gonna give back my black club
Member: Praise God Above and profess my love club

AWARDED: A baby girl. Life, L-I-F-E, eternity, my destiny, bringing out the best in me.
Fate, F-A-T-E, eternally through paternity I will be the best that I can be—and you will see the me that: My momma sees, see that my dramas relieved
See the me that my daughter needs—see the me that God feeds,
See the me beyond me, see the me that is really me.
That’s who I be—it’s all in me.

PEACE, P-E-A-C-E—maybe temporarily or sporadically nonetheless– Peace – Peace of mind peace of soul peace of what I know
And with every little bit of my baby girls glow
Grimmly reapin my sow , I remember the words my grandma tole
“First come God then come you”
Even though that you meant me—I’ma maintain that philosophy and my you will be we and that we will be—a society in search always of that place called free
To mankind above and beyond
all the nonsense
Living by the true meaning of my name –common sense
For my Lord, myself, and my fam—
I’m going to be who I am
Through all the adversity
Whether learned through street or unviserity
I’m going to be – to the best of my ability
With or without stability– me
And we will see the me that is you and the you that is me –that we all may be
Is we—phenominal, multi faceted , people that’s who we be
I’m every one of you—you’re all in me.
Outsandting black man that’s who I be

References Available upon request

co. 1999

*note in my laziness I decided to add a poetry section and eventually put all my old crap there

Administrator — , 8:50 am

Death of An Icon

Gordon Parks died recently at the age of 93. This man was a true Renaissance man, the photography, the poetry, the Life magazine covers, Shaft– what more can one man do. Rest in Peace elder.

Administrator — March 7, 2006, 1:20 pm

For a Pimp

Being lazy I will add my comments on the Three-Six Mafia Oscar performance from Rell’s blog rather than make it a post. I may expound on it later.

Let me start by saying I “hate” on southern music, hell I “hate” on all music, I hate on bafoonery, and I also support the claim that black actors are more appreciated in stereotypical and negative roles from Haddie McDowell to Morgan Freeman, I researched and made this a speech in college. But I have to disagree with Rell. The movie (Hustle ‘n Flow) was very good in my opinion and gave me an appreciation of Southern music– not a like of Southern music– just an understanding. It made me compare it to hip hop as we back East see it and at the time when it was the CNN of the ghetto. The movie made me aware of Southern “culture” and the sound was so applicable it could not be ignored as best song for a movie this year. Not that the song is good at all– it embodies that movie moreso than any song has in years. Straight up Menace (MC EIHT, Menace to Society) was 10 times better a song and it spoke the movie– but it wasn’t as influential as this song. I think the Academy is really appreciating the art, I think this is a boundary broken for urban music and art.

Interesting Post Article

Administrator — February 24, 2006, 10:05 am

The Soundtrack to My Life

In one of many of my artistic endeavors, well ideas– sometimes the thoughts don’t immediately come to fruition, I wrote a one man play entiled “The Soundtrack to My Life”. It was a musical theatric one man show detailing my life accompanied by my favorite songs. Well strolling through Angie’s spot– who coincidentally I have met, I came across this lil meme. I’d be interested to see Micki or Bill’s answers.

A favorite political track. People Get Ready, Curtis Mayfield
The song you’d use to tell someone you love them. Could It Be I’m falling In love With You, The Spinners
A song that has made you sit down and analyze it’s lyrics. American Pie, Don McLean
A song that you like, that a two year old would like as well. Whoomp There it is, 2 live Crew
A song that gives you an energy boost. Notorious Thugs, Biggie & Bone Thugs
A song that you and your grandparents (would probably) like. One in a Million, Larry Graham (one of my grandma’s favorites)
A song that you really liked when you were 14-16, and still really like now. Candy Girl, New Edition
A sad song that would be in the soundtrack of the movie about your life. Change Gone Come, Sam Cooke
A peppy song that would start the opening credits of the movie about your life. Rebel Without a Pause, Public Enemy
A good song from a genre of music that no one would guess that you liked. Red Hot Chili Peppers (Under the Bridge)
A song that you think should have been playing when you were born. Greatest Man Alive, Three Times Dope
A favorite artist duo collaboration. Marvin Gaye and Tammy Terrell, You’re All I Need To Get By
A favorite song that you completely disagree with (politically, morally,commonsenically, religiously etc.) Secret lovers, Atlantic Starr
The song that you like despite the fact your IQ level drops several points every time you listen to it. The Whisper Song, Ying Yang Twins
Your smooth song, for relaxing. Ellington/Coltrane, In a Sentimental Mood
A song you would send to someone you hate or are mad at. I Don’t Care, Audio Two feat. Milk D.
A favorite track from an outfit considered a super-group. I don’t know any “super-groups”
A song that makes you reminsce about good times with a family member. Better Days, Diane Reeves
Your favorite song at this moment in time. Redemtion Song, Bob Marley

Administrator — February 23, 2006, 12:29 pm

Weekend At Biggies

I got this from narrowcast and find it utterly hilarious. FYI I despised the last Puffy Biggie creation, I really hated the dope verse Puffy spit on the one track. Only reason it was dope is because Eminem wrote it. Puffy gotta be the smartest, richest talentless mofo on the face of the Earth.

Administrator — February 21, 2006, 12:34 pm

The Great Equivocator

Ebony, by Lerone Bennett, Jr.

New Book Says Most Famous Act In American History Never Happened

THE presidential campaign of 1860 was over, and the victor was stretching his legs and shaking off the cares of the world in his temporary office in the state capitol in Springfield, Illinois. Surrounded by the perks of power, at peace with the world, the president-elect was regaling old acquaintances with tall tales about his early days as a politician. One of the visitors interrupted this monologne and remarked that it was a shame that “the vexatious slavery matter” would be the first question of public policy the new president would have to deal with in Washington.

The president-elect’s eyes twinkled and he said he was reminded of a story. According to eyewitness Henry Villard, President-elect Abraham Lincoln “told the story of the Kentucky Justice of the Peace whose first case was a criminal prosecution for the abuse of slaves. Unable to find any precedent, he exclaimed angrily: `I will be damned if I don’t feel almost sorry for being elected when the niggers is the first thing I have to attend to.’”

This story, shocking as it may sound to Lincoln admirers, was in character. For the president-elect had never shown any sincere sympathy for Blacks, and none of his cronies was surprised to hear him suggest that he shared the viewpoint of the reluctant and biased justice of the peace. As for the N-word, everybody knew that old Abe used it all the time, both in public and in private. (Since Lincoln supporters are in a state of constant denial, I have not used elision in reporting his use of the offensive word n–r.)
[full story]

Administrator — February 16, 2006, 11:21 pm

Is he paying too high a price for his role?

Reading a story in the Philadelphia Daily News I was reminded of a story I have retained over the years. I was told the story by my father’s brother, Edward Torrance, BKA Fast Eddie, about his son (or step-son, things are still sketchy), who was my age when he was arrested years ago. The only particulars, coming from Fast Ed himself, was that his son was railroaded for a murder kidnapping charge and something about a body in the trunk. Fast Ed, my favorite living family member, told many stories. He escaped a life of crime, and drugs in the early 90′s to the immediate South. He told stories of robbing banks, and being arrested for killing someone who turned out to be himself in a gang fight, where he legally died. He told of the Black Mafia and of The Sound of Philadelphia, he spoke about pimpin’, conked hair, wearing capes and carrying canes, and gang warring in North and South Philly.

Here in the immediate South where I escaped to join my uncle, father, sister, and cousin– running from a life of crime and drugs, I re-met my uncle, and this is where he told these stories to me. He tearfully spoke of a youngster that got caught up in the wrong thing at the wrong time. He told me to guide me because I was once a hot head youngster at one time, a youngster that “lucked up” and never had the “activities” I partook in as a wayward youngster result in someone being kidnapped and killed by the hands of someone much more mature and street-wise and deliberately dastard, than the eager kid who wants to “be down” and make a few dollars like I was.

I never met my cousin Stacey, and my reluctance to visit the walls of justice that once held me, will never allow me to do so. By my uncle’s encouragement, and not my father’s–we never really bonded like that– I made of myself into someone as did he– we did it together. Fast Eddie (moves now at a snails pace) is a legend here in the closest major metropolis to the South than Philly, as a Chef, a friend and an overall good guy. His protégé (me) armed with a college degree, became a business owner, a 3 time Fortune 500 worker, friend and peer of senators, mayors, lawyers, etc. love, respects, and appreciates what he would later learn and pass on to me.

It’s too bad Fast Eddie hadn’t ascertained and passed on this knowledge to Stacey at the time. Fast Eddie changed, I’ve changed. I still believe in the streets’ “eye for an eye” but Stacey was just a 15 year old kid who’s only direction came from an actual killer– who killed the man Stacey is spending his eternity in jail for being a part of the killing.

Fast Eddie regrets it. So far, he’s saved myself, Eddie Jr. (an exec at a major food chain), my cousin G, and I don’t know about them but I’m pulling people from the hood (mainly my neighborhood of Nicetown/Hunting Park) out, moving them here, giving them the life skills that they need and letting them fly like a butterfly.

Stacey Torrance does not know who I am and probably doesn’t have memory of Edward Torrance. But because of Stacey’s situation, a lot of my family and friends are neglect of the degradive cycle of nothingness we were destined. For that reason alone I think he should be given a new chance at life–his intent may have been skewed, but I guarantee his intent never was murder. I think he should be given a chance, because he gave me a new chance and every and anybody I get in an earshot of a possible chance. Think about it, he’s the only convicted murderer we know of that has never killed anyone. And at the same time, unbeknowingestly stopped a lot of people from killing people. Is he paying too high a price for his role? He deserves a refund– that’s justice.

*actual letter sent to the Philadelphia Daily News

Administrator — February 12, 2006, 3:48 pm

Keeping With The Theme: VP Oops!

Can this organization stop effing up?

WASHINGTON Feb 12, 2006 (AP)— Vice President Dick Cheney accidentally shot and injured a man during a weekend quail hunting trip in Texas, his spokeswoman said Sunday.
Harry Whittington, 78, was “alert and doing fine” after Cheney sprayed Whittington with shotgun pellets on Saturday at the Armstrong Ranch in south Texas, said property owner Katharine Armstrong.

Armstrong said Cheney turned to shoot a bird and accidentally hit Whittington. She said Whittington was taken to Corpus Christi Memorial Hospital by ambulance.

Cheney’s spokeswoman, Lea Anne McBride, said the vice president was with Whittington, a lawyer from Austin, Texas, and his wife at the hospital on Sunday afternoon.

Copyright 2006 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.

Good thing he was hunting quail and not deer therefore using birdshot and not deadly buckshot. *sigh

Administrator — February 7, 2006, 9:33 pm

Another Oops!


So, my main man the Baba man has been out of town on work and vacation forever, he texts me about meeting for happy hour. We usually drink up at least thrice a week, so I text him back and agree to meet him for happy hour at a slightly posh spot that offers a two-for-one-anything for happy hour. It’s pricey, but it’s two for one-anything, including top shelf. So if you order a $13 dollar drink—you get two—well worth the cost. I know my baby is downstairs at the gym so I stop by to extend her the invitation, to which she agrees to meet us as she is almost finished and only has to shower. She is in tight fitting sweat pants and a sports bra—sweat glistening all over her Cleveland. This was so sexy to me—I tickle my boobies and pat my booty—give her a smooch and tell her I would see her later. So damn sexy she is. On the way to the establishment I decide to text her. (For All the impaired this is text dialogue via cell phone)

Me: I got a woody ;-)
The Baba man: Good 4u
Me: ooooooooooooooh shit—sorry Dawg, my bad, wrong window!

Yes, my text went to Baba instead of my baby. It was hysterical to me even given the implications—glad it was the Baba and not a co-worker.


*Although this is basically what I see when she is on the treadmill– this is not my baby: IMG courtesy of nsI from

Administrator — February 6, 2006, 9:51 pm

AWI: Arguing While Influenced

OK, Friday night, just got paid, me and the lady live it up– all the time. We’re at my buddies club, same club (former owner) that gave me a bottle of Moet because I told her I was a one woman man now, same club I met Indie Arie twice, same club Derek Jeter, Ray Lewis can be seen in. So we get it in, last I know tab is over 100– which is not much but alot for a non-celbratory regular Friday. The club is closing the missus is hungry she goes to the late night pizza parlor to get something to eat.

Micki: Tif, do you want anything to eat?
Me: No
Micki: Are you sure, we’ve been drinking all night, we haven’t had dinner?
Me: I’m good, I’ma meet my man at the bar and you hit me when you have the food

So I go have a drink with my man approximately 100 feet where she is ordering food, we do this often, I have a nitecap while she gets some late night vittles. So she calls me, I join up with her and we’re a few blocks away from home when we have an argument neither one of us can recall. We also do this often, the stubburn Taurus in me vs. the Ivy League “I’m always right chick” — add alcohol and it’s a terrible combination. We argue all the way home and she has to use the restroom upon entry in our house. I say “I’ma eat your cheesesteak!”–in spite, as I was hungering about the time. She says “you better not!”. So the night ends for the both of us, as we are too drunk to recall what happened.

The next day and the week following, she jokingly retells the story of how after everything I stated above occurred, she returned from the bathroom and apparently I ate her entire cheesesteak. I think to myself: “damn I must of been mad at her, no way I can choke down an entire cheeseteak in 5 minutes.” She thus went through the fridge and ate every leftover I had in spite. Made for a funny story to our friends because I never eat an entire meal at one setting, and how I ate her cheesesteak that she waited for at about 3AM in the morning– out of spite.

Micki brang this story up several times during the week. Everyone laughed and chided me for being an asshole, yaddy, yadda, yadda. She also brought up the fact that I hadn’t Spic ‘N Spanned the kitchen because it had a smell. I had cleaned the kitchen and had no idea where the smell was coming from. On Saturday I do a thourough cleaning of the kitchen, and behind a sign that her sister had given us that states “Tresspassers will be given a shot”, I discovered a wrapped object. There behind this sign that graced our kitchen “island space”– was a cheesesteak.

I guess I hid her cheesesteak to spite her, and to humble her furious argumentation ,and forgot to tell her I was just joking– here’s your cheeesteak.

Oops my bad.

Administrator — January 26, 2006, 6:00 pm

White Chicks

So, I reach into the mailbox today and grab the mail, some “have you seen me” crap and a magazine, it wasn’t mine, it was Micki’s so I didn’t pay much attention. On the elevator ride up I look at the cover, it’s Cosmo and I’m thinking, wow that is a cute white girl. I get to my place grab my keys, sling the mail on the counter and take off my coat and shoes, grab a stool and a beer and decide to find out who this cute white girl is. Some may have issue with my “cute white girl reference”, so that will be addressed in the second part of this blog. I scour the cover and low and behold it’s Beyonce Knowles. Now this isn’t the first time I’ve experienced this– it seems her ethnicity varies depending on what magazine she’s on or in. There’s white Beyonce and Black Beyonce. I’m not pointing the finger at her, I’m pointing the finger at Cosmo, the bible of European beauty, and Vanity Fair, etc., the magazines that make the girl up to look like a white woman to don the cover of their magazine. Now some may say Beyonce is damn near on the cusp– but being a yellow Negro in the know– there’s no way in hell she’s passing.

I’ll touch on that light skinned dark skinned good and bad hair never dying monster later, right now this is black and white. Late in 2005 there was some prime time specials on Black women not getting the cover of magazines and constituting X amount of the readership yet appearing on the cover something like one percent of the time. Some Black women’s advocate agency spoke up, they got some drops from Tara Banks and the thin lipped girl, umm umm Gabrielle Union and some other folks, and contacted some magazines and I guess the mojo was in motion. The next few months Ms. Knowles is everywhere albeit absent the infamous “money maker”. Yet not only was the laffy not taffied, her skin tone was several shades lighter, hair bone straight and the lips and the nose looked like modern day Egyptians had taken a chisel to them. Not to say Beyonce doesn’t get her unbeweavable Euro look on– the chick is blonde half the time, but Black-blonde, sorta like a stripper hoe or a really cute Lil Kim. Now to further complicate this “black/white” thing, I do not wish to assert that white magazines portray her as white and black magazines as black– several white magazines appreciate the bodacious bronze beauty– just not your John Q. “the white woman’s godliness is the standard of beauty, why you think we started the Klan” Whiteman mags. Some may argue that the ilk of the magazine may deternine her “look” but she can be Black and sophisticated and classy.

Now I’m no card carrying member of the Beyonce fan club like most dudes I know, I can’t front she looks damn good, but I would never grab some lotion and a rag, lock a door with screams of “oh Beyonce, oh Beyonce” filling the air, so don’t think this is a worshipping admirer’s defense or anything. I just think it’s some bullshit– major bullshit. For a Black woman to don the cover of Cosmo she has to rock the Elle McPherson look? Do an image search and when you find white Beyonce look at the source, and do be careful, there is a porn star that’s named Beyonce and in comparison even while naked she looks like a rash with a weave. Well that’s just my honest opinion. I’ve added a few mag covers below.

White Beyonce on the cover of Vanity Fair

Black Beyonce–Juice Magazine

Black Beyonce–Rolling Stone

Which brings me to part deux of this post. Up above I said “cute white woman” as if it’s an oddity and white woman aren’t cute. That’s simply not true and not what I believe at all, my preference just happens to be for Black women and white women don’t get the drool glands working or Mr. mojo rising. It has nothing to do with how I was raised or some Black power shit or anything, I just can count on my fingers the white women I have found really attractive to me. I can see how other people can find them attractive as in some are so attractive they just exude attractiveness and you can’t front on how banging they are (see: husband stealing, pregnant, chronic adopter). So for me it’s not a Black/white thing, quarterly me and the lady might get into an argument because she thinks I have a thing for Hispanic/Latin women. Hispanic/Latin women or light skinned women to hear her tell it. Now my only thing is her, but to be fair, I did have a preference for fair skinned women.

Before you guys head straight to the comments page “Tif you just spewed all that b.s. and now you hating on dark skinned sistas you light bright and damn near white house nig..”– I said preference. And I honestly believe Freud had some major points and I think my preference is Oedipal. Not that I have or had any desire to– ick I won’t even say it– with my mom, I think I am a human being that always envisioned their partner in the image of their mother. A fair skinned curly haired, thin woman. Now my mom has put on the grandma weight, yet I have no “fair skinned graying, grammommy weight” preferences, but I think my youth inked in my head what I liked and it was in the vision of my mother.

Therefore it takes a special look on a white woman or a dark skinned woman to attract me. I was thinking about this the other day and thinking of the chocolate sisters that I’ve found myself attracted to: Kenya Moore and the chick from House Party and Class Act that disappeared off the face of the Earth. I think she quit acting and joined the CIA, because if Google can’t find your ass, you don’t exist. Google is like God’s website– if you aren’t Googable to some extent you are a symptom of metaphysics. As I digress, I’ve tackled a few things here that may be hard to swallow if you don’t chew with an extremely unbiased mouth. Let’s talk about it.

Administrator — , 2:54 pm

How Geeky Am I?

me: (cleaning my monitor with wet wipe)

Old Guy: Why are you in DOS?

me: I just wanted a black screen so I could see all the spots

Old Guy: Tif, you know you could of just turned the monitor off.

Tif <– turns red

Administrator — January 25, 2006, 10:33 am

Blast for Me

I mean I like Kanye as much as the next man, definitely more than the no homo guy (after I looked up his page I noticed he blogged about the same thing I’m blogging about this second). I love his music, I love his comment about the president, but c’mon– this pisses me off and I’m not even Christian. Then again, I guess it can be considered art, it pisses me off, but I’m not pissed with a passion.

Administrator — January 23, 2006, 4:04 pm

No Bill of Rights for the Brothas

I was strolling by Nia’s spot and I read her Stereotype of a black male post and the comments associated with it and it provoked a lot of memories and even more thought. Being a black male from the inner city you come to grips with the fact that at any time you can have your human rights violated by an officer of the goddamn law at any point. Now I was an admitted bastard growing up but most of my run ins with the law occurred when I was a matriculating undergrad student. I’ve blogged about being arrested for robbery and being locked up for months mistakenly. These things are an oddity but the everyday profiling and harassment by power hungry policemen is really out of hand. Currently here in Baltimore, city council is meeting with the mayor and police chief because the police have a habit of arresting people “just cuz”. Arresting them and offering no charging documents, just arrested Negroes to be arresting them.

Nia sympathized with black men and I’m glad she’s aware because not everyone has experienced this harassment and may think it’s a NY or LA thing. The love of my life had to witness first hand how a black man has no rights against the law as stated here in the Fells Point story.

Another instance, once in a traffic stop back home I was nervous and wasn’t aware of the mechanics of my buddies door lock when I was told to get out the car, so the officer pulled my skinny ass right through the window and laid me on the ground.

In Grand Central Station post 911 I was harassed by a black cop for having an open container when everybody knows you can buy beer in Grand Central and drink on the trains. The irony here is, it was a black cop and when the other officers got wind of “a situation” brewing they drove their little buggies over to kick some zero tolerance ass or to drop 41 bullets into me. They get pissed: “open container???” They left in disappointment. [Walking away] “We can’t kill a nigger for open container can we?” “Don’t think so Bob, it’s not in the manual”. “Let’s go, no fun here”. I was being facetious (ala the late great Richard Pryor) on that last part but you get my point.

Now I can go on and on case, incident, etc. I’ve even sat on panels on the subject. I was scheduled to speak at an ACLU event on racial profiling and the night before the event we were “pulled over”. I had some friends come to pick me up to go out, they were parked outside, I go jump in the car, a SUV that was in park. Before my buddy could start the car the sirens sounded and they were barking instructions. There’s no way there was any violations as the car was in a valid parking space in park. Well to a cop there was the SUV, the dreads, the bald head– that’s cause for harassment alone. They ask several questions as to what we were doing in this neighborhood, etc. etc. and eventually let us go. I had to change my entire speech to reflect this. Excerpts were actually aired on the local news channels.

Philadelphia and Baltimore with the current rises in murders are contemplating “jump out” techniques where officers randomly search people for weapons. I seem to recall an amendment or something that was supposed to guarantee us against this “unlawful” act. Philly claims they would never do it, Baltimore currently is fighting for the right to illegal search and seizure.

So boys and girls, black boys regardless of age or socio-economic status, will always be at the mercy of the boys in blue. It’s just a part of life that many of us have learned to accept. Imagine how humiliating and emasculating it is as a human being to know that there is the inevitable chance that you will always face the possibility of being punked by the boys in blue– regardless of their skin color.

Appendix I

The last sentence reminded me of the scene in the movie Crash where the officer played by Matt Dillon (I don’t want to be a spoiler) does the thing and the Hustle & Flow dude is rendered helpless. That is an entire blog that I will post sometime later, and describe the entire scene as not enough people read this blog for it to be too much of a spoiler.

Administrator — January 13, 2006, 10:34 am

Coming Soon To A Screen Near You

Administrator — January 9, 2006, 1:32 pm

We’re Playing Bas-ket-ball!

I love basketball. I really do. When I was younger I used to eat and sleep basketball playing from sun up to sun down, and then our impoverished neighborhood got lights and we played maybe 12 hours a day. I’ve played with NBA players like Pooh Richardson, Dough Overton, Rasheed Wallace, Aaron McKie, Chris Webber, etc. I’m no good but where I’m from you had to play ball or you were a thug. I tore my ACL junior year and I then discovered girls, booze, and how to make $1000 in a day. That was the end of my basketball career.

So when my daughter leaves me a voicemail asking me to come to her first basketball game, I first am flabbergasted (she’s 6) and then wondered when/how my lil prissy micro-computer (she’s been reading since 3) got into sports. Then I wonder how do they do this, 6 foot goals? One of them mini balls that you shoot into the mini basket for $5 at Dave and Buster’s or your favorite sports bar? How was this going to take place?

We get to the gym and there are bleachers full of parents and a boys game going. These boys had to be a bout 10 or so and they had a real full court game going with two referees, scoreboard, the whole 9. So again, not being sexist but where is the 6 year old court? So the boys game ends and my daughter who had already greeted me and Micki ran onto the floor with her team in tow. Seven little girls so cute in their sweats. They didn’t have uniforms like the boys but they matched in pink.

So as I await them to pull out the bumpers for bumper basketball and keep my eye on the door for the new equipment and glance at the ceiling to see if they are going to lower the court, the teams set up for a “jump ball”. I think “you gotta be kidding me”. So as they set up and my daughter’s coach walks on the court to place each girl where they need to be for the jump, I think –what the hell? My daughter wasn’t on the court, she’s a bench rider like her daddy. To my defense the folks on the court and on the bench next to me were always the best players in the country– hell we were #1 in the nation my senior year. Now before I begin, I’m not saying I’m a stellar athlete– but two things I know in and out like the back of my hand is basketball and boxing. I’m not the greatest of ball players and lord knows I’m not the greatest of boxers– but I know the game.

So the game is about to start and it’s an obvious opportunity for the boys to score two points off the jump, so I try to get the misplaced girls attention then look to their coach who is looking at a clipboard with a basketball illustration on it. yeah right these folks have got to be kidding me– this geezer is gonna try to get some 6 year olds to run a play? Let’s watch. They jump ball, the boys (or their center) being no b-ball guru missed the obvious chance at an easy 2 points and did what any 6 year old would do when you hold a basketball in front of them and throw it up– smack it. So they scramble around for the ball and the boys pick it up run down court, throws up an inadvertent air ball and it’s the girls turn.

So like almost any basketball game in the hood you have to have the obligatory token white kid. There was a white girl on my daughter’s team and for some reason this white kid was “the point” or “the one”, i.e. the kid that distributes the ball to the other players. Now I understand sportsmanship and things of that nature but if you gonna teach the kids, teach them right. Plus this kid was a lil rotund, her roundness would be better served in the paint (under the basket). But alas, the lil round white girl was the point and she commenced to commit may 30 turnovers in the first 6 minutes of play. I get a little over zealous and yell “who made her the point!” and Micki shushes me and points to the only other white people in the building sitting two feet behind me.

But this girl was bad, and they had another little girl who could control the ball better. She would dribble–well sometimes she would–depending on what kind of mood she was in and how close her defender was, because she would oft times pick the ball up run ten feet and dribble again– this being no apparent infraction on kiddie court. Anyways she would somehow get across half court, stop and throw it to someone on the opposing team. Never fail. Another thing the girls could not understand was coming to the ball.

When it was time to inbound the ball there would be just one girl there with the ball, and the referee would have to coerce some other teammate to come get the ball. This was very frustrating because I could tell the reason: they were poorly coached. Now I know what you’re saying “they’re only 6″, but girls develop faster than boys and the boys seemed to get the gist of it. When my daughter found her way onto the court, I wanted to tell her what to do but that would be breeching the first rule of sportsmanship– it’s coach’s ball team not your parents, not your homeboys. You can get advice before and after the game but while you are on the floor there is only one commander and chief.

Another thing is at 6, you can really groom a person into being a good ball player– they haven’t had to chance to learn themselves and thus screw up their fundamentals like I did with my golf game. I learned basketball fundamentals at a very young age. Anyone from my neighborhood close to my age and anywhere in as much as a three miles radius of my neighborhood knows who Mr. B is. He’s basically “Coach”. He taught literally thousands of children how to play basketball– not for a fee–for the hell of it. Every morning at 6am we were ringing each other bells to gather and meet Mr. B in the park. He would already be there ready for us, shooting foul shots. We met at 6am to avoid the impending sunshine.

Mr. B taught us the fundamentals of the game before we even were allowed to shoot– rules, basics, etc. The basket was irrelevant at this point– kinda like how Mr. Miagi taught Danielson. We would run chest pass drills, bounce pass drills, shoulder pass drills, dribbling drills, figure eights, learned how to use your weak hand as much as your strong hand. If you got fancy and did some behind the back crap, you did laps. We didn’t see an actual game for maybe a year, besides scrimmages amongst ourselves and pickup games after Mr. B. left.

Irregardless my daughter is being “taught” basketball by some geezer who throws them into a regulation game against boys without any systematic training. And even with the hand he was dealt he did a horrible job. I saw a million ways for the girls to make opportunities for a chance at a shot at the hoop– which they had maybe 3 all game. I’m not sure if more than two of the girls had the upper body strength to propel a regulation male basketball (even the WNBA plays with a smaller balls) 11 feet into the air into a 10 foot basket. The final score was boys 8 girls 1– after four quarters of play. Teach them kids to play, don’t just throw them on the floor.

Sidenote: If what my mother tells me is correct there is a hefty weekly cost to be a part of this “team”. As I suspected before, just another case of some Negro with a racket. *sigh. Kinda like the “modeling agency” that my sister enrolled in as a child with hefty fees, tons of money for headshots, etc., yet they never found an opportunity for her. “Maybe if she tries some of our modelling courses she will be more friendly with the camera”. People should burn in hell for taking advantage of ambitious parents and kids. I won’t mention it to her mama. Me challenging her decision would kinda be like announcing Sharon’s death. Well, long as my daughter is happy.

Administrator — January 8, 2006, 12:07 pm

City of God

Police in Brazil kill hundreds, yet stir little outrage
By Henry Chu
Originally published January 8, 2006

RIO DE JANEIRO, Brazil // The five bodies in the bar were riddled with bullets fired at almost point-blank range. Four of the dead were boys no older than 16. The admitted gunmen: police officers carrying out a raid in a squalid shantytown.

But in this seaside city that has become hostage to gruesome acts of violence, the Dec. 3 killings barely caused a stir, in contrast to a bus burning by suspected drug traffickers the same week, which also killed five people. That incident was front-page news.

The lack of outrage illustrates growing public indifference to alleged police brutality in a society that is increasingly accustomed to such harsh measures and even, at times, supportive of them in the fight against rising crime.

Brazil, the biggest country in Latin America, has one of the highest homicide rates in the world. And the number of killings by police has climbed steeply, even though, activists say, the authorities’ use of lethal force has failed to put a dent in crime.

In Rio de Janeiro state alone, police killed nearly 1,200 people in 2003, according to figures compiled by the local nonprofit group Global Justice – an average of more than three people a day. The overwhelming majority of victims are young black or mixed-race males who live in the city’s favelas, the teeming slums that blanket Rio’s hillsides.

The favelas have become personal fiefdoms of drug kingpins. Fearful residents find themselves caught between the iron rule of local drug lords and the repressive tactics of police who regularly invade their neighborhoods in military-style operations.

“The people in the favelas are victims twice over,” said Marcelo Freixo of Global Justice.

Residents of the slums, most of them poor workers who provide services for Rio’s tiny upper crust, routinely hear gunfire outside their homes or firecrackers set off by scouts to warn drug traffickers of the presence of police.

Nighttime raids by heavily armed police commandos, sometimes backed by helicopters, are common. Research released last month by Amnesty International said police often exceed the limits of their powers by using single search warrants to sweep through entire communities.

“They are issued by judges against the spirit of the law, and they basically give police carte blanche to go and search houses in whole neighborhoods,” said the human rights group’s Patrick Wilcken. Putting up a fight can result in injury or a fatality that is classified as “resistance followed by death,” Wilcken said.

In the Dec. 3 raid that left four boys and a young man dead in the suburb of Niteroi, officers said the youths had ties to the drug trade and had fired on them.

But after hearing the officers’ conflicting accounts and visiting the bar where the killings took place, members of the state’s human rights commission said there were “very strong indications” that the boys had been summarily executed – that the only shots were fired by the police.

One of the victims was 11-year-old Wellington Santiago, who had stopped at the bar with friends to buy sodas for a birthday party they were on their way to attend.

“He was shot five times, in the head, in the stomach, which destroyed his internal organs, and the arm,” said Fernanda de Oliveira, his mother. “He was killed in such a brutal way. So very cruel.”

Wellington was a conscientious student who had nothing to do with drugs, de Oliveira said.

She described police incursions as a constant horror in Morro do Estado, the favela where she lives: “They invade all the time. The schools are constantly closing” because of confrontations between police and drug traffickers.

Twelve officers have been detained in the killings.

Whether any will be punished remains to be seen. Brazil’s judicial system grinds agonizingly slowly, with the result that cases go untried for years.

But the worst rampage attributed to rogue cops in Rio state occurred in March. A group of gunmen, believed to be officers who were upset about an internal investigation of some of their colleagues, mowed down 29 people.

The state Ministry of Public Security did not respond to requests for comment on allegations of widespread police abuse and impunity.

But police officials have publicly defended their department’s actions. While acknowledging the presence of wayward cops, whom they say they are trying to root out, the officials note that their officers’ lives are in constant peril, threatened by drug gangs and other criminals who are often better armed and increasingly ruthless. Last year, 52 officers were killed in the line of duty in Rio de Janeiro state.

Many members of the force are uneducated. Police complain of being poorly equipped, poorly trained and poorly paid, contributing to the well-documented history of corruption within their ranks. Officers struggle to support their families on a salary of about $380 a month.

This year, the government of President Luiz Inacio Lula da Silva cut the federal budget for public security. That marked “the first time there’s been a reduction,” said Freixo of Global Justice.

Officials have encountered no sustained public outcry or pressure for a thorough cleanup of the police. Protests by shantytown dwellers are not infrequent, but their grievances carry little weight with politicians who are beholden to richer, more powerful sectors of society.

In fact, it is not uncommon to hear members of Rio’s middle and upper classes express support for a harsh approach to law enforcement, describing the loss of lives as the price that must be paid for safer streets. However, it is rarely the well-to-do who pay, activists note.

“Perhaps this is the gravest consequence of Rio de Janeiro’s public security policy: the trivialization and acceptance of violence by police against residents,” Freixo said.

Administrator — January 6, 2006, 12:09 am

The Hood Know What it Is

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“One ever feels his twoness-an American, a Negro; two souls, two thoughts, two unreconciled strivings; two warring ideals in one dark body, whose dogged strength alone keeps it from being torn asunder.” W.E.B. DuBois

OK, I’m not hood– but then again I am- I have denounced the hood– but I was once hood. It’s like a lesbian or a gay guy claiming they aren’t female or male perspectively, so even though I haven’t had myself scientifically altered, I am not hood– yet and still, I guess I am. What brought on this dilema is after celibrating my recent engagement, and the New Year, one of my boys was killed a day later. A real bummer, I’m floating amongst the clouds and a day later one of my boys is gunned down. And the worst thing about it, I had no clue who it was for over an hour. Originally this post was intended to be about my ups and downs– for every good thing that happens to me something bad happens, etc. etc. etc. but, as my studies gear me, as my heart and anger lead me, my own personal belief that everything a Black man endures is related to the above DuBoisian issue of double conciousness, (which I extremely over-use)–I will go that route.

After mentally mourning and being visibly shaken terribly after getting “the calls”. Let me briefly explain what the calls are. I’ll take you back to 1992 sophmore year of college. No one back home really had long distance, it was like $10 a call in those days, and for all you young folk there was no such thing as “free long distance”. So me and my roomie had the clicheic answering machine with the message that started off with us talking: “Whassup?, hello?” and then yelling “AHHH we’re not here, we got you!” Well several times that year I would get several messages from home from several different people saying “call me”. Now, hood rules– you just can’t leave a detailed message of someones death on an answering machine. So I eventually found out in college– if I had three or more messages from home– someone was dead.

Fast forward 21st century, cell phones, free long distance– regardless, the hood aint never really used the telephone except to say a quick ”this-that-and-another”. Guess you gotta be hood to understand what that means, that could be illicit activity or a booty call, but in the hood a phonecall is a “this-that-and-another”– that’s it, no extreme discourse. So Tuesday I get “the calls”. I get the calls often with the onsought of cell phones, whenever someone’s NFC East team beats my NFC East team. Aside from that, “the calls” are still bad news. It’s not always a body, sometime it’s someone getting locked up, which is still not good news.

I get the calls from 11pm to 3:15 Am Monday night. I wake up shower, get dressed, check my voicemail. I get the “Yo, you hear what happened? Call me!” from my CNN/MSNBC on site affiliate who’s out of the game too, but alas still in the hood. I know what this means. But who was it? My ace, my brother, my cousin– could be my oldhead– sometime these calls come for folks over 60. I tremble brushing my teeth like it’s -10 degrees outside. My fiance tells me “relax honey, it could be nothing”. Nothing? That’s a pipe dream, I’ve been through 15 years of this shit.

I call around and get voicemail after voicemail. I finally find someone, and they tell me it was my man Key. Now I haven’t seen Key in about 6 years, follow me: because he took a bid for shooting some broad that boyfriend killed my other buddy. He took it like a champ, even though the man that actually shot the chick was incarcerated, and probably could of run his sentences concurrently (along side his own sentence), yet Key didn’t “snitch”. His cred (credibility) in the hood was top notch. Before he went down (locked up)his cred and my respect for him, and his for mine impressed me. His relationship with my brother was much tighter and any friend of my brother’s is a friend of mine, and he treated me like a big brother.

“When keeping it real goes wrong”–Dave Chapelle

But as I digress, I was sorrowful and mourning Key as I hadn’t seen him in a while and wanted to build with him when he got out. I was a tad too late as somebody else in my hood didn’t take a liking to Key beating their ass New Years Eve, and shot him in the head this past Monday.

In an effort to make this simple, let’s say I’m an indifferent Eagles fan and I know that T.O. kicked McNabb in the balls several times causing his season ending injury– not the story you heard on ESPN. Now, for the slightly stupid I have no inner knowledge of the Eagles lockeroom, but I know who kicked McNabb in the balls, where he lives and where he may be, and McNabb is my man, and I think T.O. needs a bigger kick in the balls, yet it’s not my job (being out of the locker room) to do it, (nor do I want any of my former teamates to do it a)because they may become permeanately retired b) they will become a target for a serious nut kicking c) it’s gonna be some nut kicking retalliation for every nut that’s kicked–and we’re all in the same locker room!

Question arises– should I go to the league or a coach? I also fret that me and my brother being coaches/prime time running backs are more fond of McNabb than T.O.– so will the other members of the team try to “tackle” us before we “tackle” them– even though we have no intention of “tackling” them and basically we’re kind of fond of them as well? Will we become targets for going to McNabb’s going away party? Will we be targets at other parties? Will we be targets by the”officials” and questioned before/after the party, thus being labeled as “snitches”– even if we don’t speak or offer information, and becoming targets by default? Will we be targeted/arrested for carrying weapons/wearing body armour, in around the place of ceromony– and being in danger around places such as our MOTHER’S home.

“Stop Snitchin” –unknown

I danced all around this post with inuendo and bullshit. The bottom line is some cat killed my man and I know who he is and where he may lay his head. Options are, handle my business, turn him in to the cops, or avoid it completely. My answer, avoid it all together. Some of you may say– act. that’s not my job, I’m 33 years old– if you want to keep it hood–I’m not the one- i’m a grown ass man.

At the bottom of the internet news article detailing my boys killing, it said, “if you have any info call…” My new ego debated with my inner id on whether to make the call. Myself told me that I could never make that call– hood or no hood, this is about integrity. My integrity says the hood governs itself. I saw all the ignorant DVD’s and T-Shirts and plum stupidness involved with the Stop Snitchin campaign. None of that shit mattered to me. The hood spoke to my mentality– it didn’t exactly say “stop snitchin” but it said “that’s not what you do”. It said to me snitchin will cause a whole lot more killing that they will never see, nor honor, nor defend you– when you have to defend yourself. Snitchin will turn your family, your elders, your community against you– your trust, your word, you’re good in the hood– becomes bad.

I don’t fear for anything but God so the reprocussions aren’t the dilema. Then again they are– I’m eons away from the hood– I make that “other call”, a man is locked up and someone is labled a snitch (not me)– and some innocent person is targeted because I didn’t obey hood rules. My DuBosian two-ness divided, regardless befuttles me– my duty as an “American” or my duty as a human being. It’s not a concern of my breathing– it’s making a decision that will keep the more many people breathing.

If Saddam was killed this war on Iraq might not of cost so many lives, if Saddamn wasn’t caught, it might not have cost many lives. Saddamn is caught and alive and there are lots of lives continually dying. He might be worth alot more to many people’s love one’s dead. You can say the same for George W. Bush. It’s the same in the hood, and all hood rules apply–in any hood.

Regardless, there’s a war brewing and I love people on both sides. Kind of like being a muslim and an American. My two-ness has boiled down to me and my squad. Give them peace and you have peace from me.

My question is– what would you do? Confront the guy, turn him in, live your life?

I’m really interested in hearing.

“Have you ever killed anyone?” “Yes, but they were all bad” Arnold Schwarzenegger (in acting role)

Administrator — January 3, 2006, 11:29 am

The Proposal

She weeps

OK where, shall I start, I won’t bore you with the details on when I planned this or how I had the ring picked out for about a year (because I didn’t), but here we go. We are in the Poconos staying in a rented cabin with five other couples that went to college with me. (Sidenote, we play our bowl game tonite—WE ARE—PENN STATE!) We have reservations for 12 at a place called Sam Snead’s Inn, and me and a few of the fellas argue who Sam Snead was. I said a “famous gangster” another friend said a “porn star”. I’m totally internet dependant, and in the woods with no connectivity, we agree to disagree.

We get there and it’s apparent that he’s a famous golfer. This makes this the perfect place since me and the lady are golfers. Golf paraphernalia everywhere and clubs of other famous golfers, Arnold Palmer, Bobby Jones, everywhere. I take the first seat at the table and ask that we sit facing our mate as we sat next to them last New Year’s and I don’t think that would be conducive to my plot. So we’re sitting around the table, eating, drinking and having a merry old time. I go to the bathroom which I thought was 3 flights down, but that’s because I’m an idiot and should of realized there were bathroom’s on every floor. On this bottom floor was a bar, a band, and a bunch of table parties, party favors, hats, the whole 9. I think, wow this is where the fun is, because we were upstairs in the seated dining area. So I go to the bathroom lock the door and stare in the mirror and pull out the ring and ask myself “am I really gonna do this?” At that moment as if on cue, the band goes into Phil Collins “In the Air Tonight”. If you aren’t familiar with the song the lyrics start like this:

I can feel it coming in the air tonight, Oh Lord
I’ve been waiting for this moment, all my life, Oh Lord
Can you feel it coming in the air tonight, Oh Lord, Oh Lord

Once, they got to that guitar riff, it was over, I was hyped and ready to do the damn thing—but how/when? I go back to the table and looked to my friend who I had stayed up until 4:30AM the prior night and the only other person in the house that knew I might be up to something, to no avail, he was enjoying his dinner. At that moment someone suggested we go down stairs to watch the ball drop—I think perfect I’m more comfortable down there anyways.

We get there and we all have a flute of champagne in our hand, so at about 11:55, I propose a “pre-New Years Eve toast”. You don’t know how hard it is to get 12 people together who have been drinking and are anticipating a ball dropping any minute now. I finally get the last wife’s attention (I yelled at her—I apologize) and thank everyone for another great New Years gathering, blah blah blah, and then took the knee, and pulled out the ring and said “I want to ask my girlfriend to marry me”. Micki’ has some sort of conniptions or something fanning herself backing into the servers entrance to the kitchen. I have to crawl forward on one knee to keep up with her, at that point I thought she was going to be the runaway bride.

By now our party of 10 go crazy and this gets the attention of the entire lower level who are cheering and yelling “what she say??” I thought the ball had dropped there was so much commotion. She said yes to me and I could hear her but it was sort of like a panicked yes. Finally after more yelling—still spazzed out she yells “Yes! Yes Yes!” So everyone yelled “put the ring on her finger!” I reach to grab her champagne flute which is empty (she told me later she pounded that puppy like a sailor) and slid the ring on her finger (wrong hand, we were corrected later). At that point I was swamped by the wives who had to get a look and pictures. My boys were dapping me up when somebody yelled “10-9-8..” The ball dropped we hugged and kissed and got a congratulations from everyone in the place. When we got back to our table the entire third floor knew and were congratulating us. Even the servers and the owner, and the management on the way out.

Micki wept and kept this “what the hell just happened” look on her face for another half hour or so. I think it went rather well. Darn sure she was surprised.

Close friends email me and I’ll forward you pics.

Still on my knees- does this mean yes???– unhand my chin woman!!!

Administrator — December 25, 2005, 1:50 pm

Drink Plenty of Liquids

I’m sitting home lonely on Xmas, the lil lady is home in Tennessee, as I said earlier for the first time in five years I didn’t take the trip– that won’t happen again. I mean I’m Muslim and the church services, and the 40 hours in malls kinda takes a toll on a brother, so I passed this year. So I stock piled the house with what I thought I would need stuck in here with all businesses closed for the holidays. I took an inventory of what I acquired and realized– I have no food. Not intentionally, well I guess subconsciously, I’m a liquid dude. Maybe it’s why I’m so skinny. So a quick gander gave me this list of items:

Pinot Noire
California White Wine
Bloody Mary Mix
Egg Nog
Apple Cider
Yuengling Beer
Heineken Beer
Grolsh Beer
Belini Mix
Hawaiin Punch
Deer Park Water

I had to stop myself from making Kool Aid. So if I get real bloated and drunk and starve to death tell my baby I love her and miss her, and her momma’s Turkey.

Appendix I

I’ve added Hot Apple Cider and Spiced Rum to the mix– I am Toast-eee!

Administrator — December 24, 2005, 3:29 pm

This Time it Wasn’t Me!

If you can’t tell by my discourse or by the friggin title of this blog– I am an asshole. I just am. But sometimes I humble myself for the sake of mankind, and I think this is one of them times. So I go to one of my favorite watering holes with my baby on Friday for drinks and vittles. This is the place in the previous blog where the mean black tranny got into the argument with a John Q. whiteguy typed dude– it was friggin hilarious. This bar is not a gay bar, but like any bar in a gay neighborhood– gays frequent it. I like this bar because it is truly diverse and I’ve met some of my bestest friends at this one bar. In this bar you can find a young thug and a millionaire in heated debate over firing the Ravens quarter back or Intelligent Design. I’ve seen many movie stars stumble across this bar, it’s just one of them cool ass bars. I used to live directly behind this bar and me and Micki basically lived in this bar. I’ve held meetings in this bar, had debates, gotten into fights, passed out drunk– everything you can possibly imagine happen in a bar, so basically it’s my “Cheers”.

We’re at the bar spending some time together before Micki flies to Tennessee, I usually go with her but for the first time in the past 5 years, I’m not– we’ll tackle that at a later date. So the bartender a friend of ours has some broken fingers/wrists and is in a sling. Apparently her and her boyfriend, a mammoth of a guy 6 foot 7 a few hundred pounds– linebacker size– not fat– had an accident during sex. They were being creative with a chair or something and the end result was he was unconscious and fell on her hand. You gotta love a bar with a bartender that still works her shift after a sex act gone wrong. So I decide to take it easy on her and ask the other bartender for my Martini. This bartender is a 40-ish white chick who tries to look youger, she’s blonde and wears pig tails. She’s been fired from this place once but was brought back somehow because they were short staffed.

Micki sat directly to my left and a bar tender who just got off her shift to my right. Since I frequent this bar so much everyone knows what I drink– even the new bartender, but today she on some other shit. So me and Micki sit there mouth watering staring at her ass sit in the corner 4 feet in front of us. So I finally say “can I order a drink?” She looks at me stoically and I look at the off-shift bartender to my right and she just shrugs. I say may I have a dirty Stohli martini no Vermouth. She goes “all you had to do was ask”. I once again look around for assurement that I am not being an asshole at the moment. So a guy I know says “I don’t think she heard the no-vermouth part”. I yell to her “No vermouth”, she looks at me in confusion, I say it again, “No vermouth”. She still looks confused, we all say it, me, Micki, off-shift bartender, and guy at the corner of the bar together in cadence “No vermouth”. She gets pissed– “I heard you the first time!” We all look at eachother and shrug. She brings the martini– Micki tells me “she made that with rail vodka” Now, I’m no prude, I’m going to probably make me a rail vodka martini after I complete this post- but if I’m in a bar and there’s only a dollar difference– I want my premium vodka. For those non-drinkers, rail equal gut rottening hangover vodka usually made from potatoes, premium equal smooth no-hangover vodka made from grain.

Me: excuse me what type of vodka did you use in here
bartender chick: the kind you asked for
Me: what kind was that
BC: the kind I put in there
Me: and what would that be exactly
BC: rail
Me: No I asked for Stohli
BC: you asked for rail
Everyone Together: he asked for Stohli

So at this point she gulps a huge chunk of the rail martini down–and anyone that knows anything about a martini– that’s alotta vodka in one gulp, and declares “taste fine to me”. Why yes but I asked for Stohli, I think yet I didn’t say it– that would of been assholic. She goes across the bar and asks “who snitched” and the ladies look at her like “what the hell are you talking about” and Micki announces, “that was me, I saw you pour from the rail”. So BC grabs the martini shaker and a bottle of Skyy Vodka and starts pouring. Everyone yells “he wants Stohli!” She yells “I quit and storms out the back door”

Now at this point we all are utterly confused and wait to see if she was kidding or not. I’m worried she may come back with a knife because she ran out the kitchen entrance. We wait and ask the sexual acrobat bartender what’s the deal. She is slightly mad at me because SAB (sexual acrobat bartender)and OSB (off-shift bartender) know I am a complete asshole and let’s just say we’ve broken eachother in. So SAB is like “Tif, if I have to work a Friday night shift with no backup and one hand I’m going to kill you”. OSB stands up and says “I’m out of here”. So we’re sitting around waiting for the chick to maybe come back and she does– grabs her jacket (that’s the thing about a storm out– you forget things) and runs out the front door with SAB on her heels to no avail.

So one of my favorite bars was/is short staffed– was I an asshole?

Appendix I

I found out yesterday that another employee of the same establishment quit the same day as BC, and she quit because of BC and other factors. I was feeling sorry for her until I realized she was getting boozed up in the same place she had quit the day before, so there couldn’t be any hard feelings. Also her keys had these tabs on them with addresses. I asked them what they were, they were her houses. She has five. I couldn’t help to think what is a waitress doing with five houses in the hood, then she told me she was jewish and it made perfect sense. Well kind of.

Filed under: BlogComments (3)

Administrator — , 1:54 pm

The Scientific Method

OK I plan for a simple night. The sexified Micki goes to her office party– is it because of the recession that companies don’t invite spouses to these things anymore? Anyways I’m sitting at a bar minding my own business sipping on a martini and this drunk girl keeps bumping into me, apologizing, starting conversations, quitting mid sentence–ok, whatever. So the girl is with a group of maybe 5 guys and one of the guys comes over to me and tells me he is conducting an experiment.

So, I live in a gay neighborhood and am not much for experimenting–at all. But I hear him out. “Dude we just left 5 bars. At each bar we pick up someone new. We go to bars that we wouldn’t normally go to and each bar we drink something different and you can’t repeat the drink.” The guy goes on to say the only stipulation is no gay bars are involved.

My motto on getting drunk is: Micki’s away– hey OK! So the girl who was way drunk takes a while to leave as she places her breasts on every dude in the place, and she tells you “I’ma just put my breasts on you”. Whatever lady but I forewarned you not to do it and when the lil woman comes around I am not responsible for whatever occurs if she finds you “putting your breasts on me”. So we finally pry her away from whoever she was “putting her breasts” on and go to the bar of my choice to recruit the newest member of this crawl. We get there and we are immediately joined by a few more guys and a another girl. The irony of the situation is most of the guys worked for a company that I interviewed with three times and almost sealed the job and they also wanted Micki to take a position there, so that made for some banter while we were relatively sober.

So we drink a round of something or another and I try to recruit an interesting to say the least friend of mine, Middle Eastern young lady, attractive to most, but she is doing laundry. She desperately wants to go and wants us to wait but the laundry factor made her a no-go. Our experiment was floating around the bar and the gayest of gay guys insists on joining our crew and taking us to the gayest of gay bars. Now I will not repeat my stance on homosexuality or I guess I will– it basically goes like this, I do what I do– you do what you do– I don’t care if you do what I do but I don’t do what you do. So the head of the experiment decides to bend the rules if everyone is in agreement. The second girl in the crew comes over to me and says “quick find someone else I don’t want to go to a gay bar”. So I tell her my girlfriend is coming, so we come up with the plot that I hide and she approach Micki as if she is a complete stranger and get her to join the experiment. Micki not a real fan of drunkenness, only when she decides to bring out her alters, the crowd favorite being Mimosa Micki. There are also Margarita Micki and Martini Micki. oh there’s another ‘M’ Micki but that’s a whole nother blog. So I tell the girl what Micki looks like, black girl sexy black legs, black skirt, black hose black pumps (I’m getting a woody typing this).

During all this drunk girl decides to start making out with a co-worker. They would later go on to leave the experiment. Head of the experiment also bended in that rule as it was relative to his experiment as he is trying to get people together. So Micki comes and I tell head guy to ask these girls I know who basically use their cleavage to get free drinks all the time to join us. Reminds me of the movie mean girls, so I send him over to the “mean hot Black chicks” table. I tell him the one chick– the server happens to have a dick so not him/her. So he goes over to him/her and explains the experiment– the group is looking on in awe like what the hell is he doing. So from what I heard and what was filled in to me later, the discourse went something like this:

HeadGuy: Hey you want to join our group, I know you are a Tranny and all but it’s an experiment
Tranny: What? Who the fuck are you and yes I am a Tranny what you wanna fuck? huh bitch $20 I will fuck you
HeadGuy: No we are conducting this bar crawl experiment and my friend Tif over there said
Tranny: 20 dollars muthafucka and I will fuck you up the ass
HeadGuy: no we go bar to bar and choose a drink and last person…
Tranny: 20 dollars and I will fuck you up the ass!

The entire group is in tears– I’m thinking what went wrong? I’m also thinking let’s get the hell out of here, visions of jail and hate crimes are dancing through my head. So we grab an older guy, let’s call him “Hip Hop Digest” because he although being over 40 knows every single tidbit of hip hop history possible. So HHD works at one of Baltimore’s famed crab restaurants therefore he only has money during crab season. I had already reluctantly bought him a beer that night. I’m against bringing HHD because I know he is broke and I damn sure wasn’t carrying him through the rest of the crawl. Also because HHD is totally useless socially– he can’t talk about anything but Hip Hop, but I’d take him over the overly gay guy– who was 120 pounds, 22 years old maybe, flamboyantly gay and left with his “ex” who looked like the fat white guy that was on Sanford and Son when Redd Foxx left the show.

We depart to a bar, one of those OK bar and grille typed places where you throw your peanut shells on the floor. The girls of Sex & The City may not like it but Micki loves it. But I couldn’t persuade her this night, Micki breaks away and gives me a kiss and we continue to the bar. We get there and I see some folks I know and dap em up. For all you uncool people that’s the really cool thing cool people do when they see other cool people that usually ends in a shoulder tap and a snap– you know the cool thing wish you wish you can do. One of the guys I see is an incredible beatbox and I see there’s a mic and PA set up (some folk singer was on his break) and I ask some folks I know that work there can Beat Box guy get on the mic. Big D who is about 6 foot 5 300+ tells me to ask the new owners. This place a usual Baltimore staple was sold by the original owners after several years of great service and sold twice in the last 6 months. That’s not good. So I ask D and he tells me to ask the new owner– I go “what you don’t run this place anymore?”, because Big D has been there through all the owners and kept the place running smoothly as you may not even notice it changed owners. He tells me to talk to the owner in the yellow hat, and I look and Head Experiment Guy is already talking to him. So HEG comes to me and says the owner says it’s cool he can get on in 5 minutes. So BBG goes over to the owner to thank him for the opportunity, and he changes his mind. BBG is Black HEG is white. So HEG goes over to the owner guy who states to him (as I find out as we were on our way to the next bar) something to the effect of “This aint MTV”.

At the next bar, an Irish bar that actually has a Mick and an O’ in the name–pure thoroughbred Irish bar– they had a R&B band playing. I knew this band well, they were the house band for me for many an occasion. I dapped up members of the band and asked could BBG do some time. (Industry term for time on the mic–I guess I never mentioned in my blog that I may be sort of an Industry guy). So the band leader dude (BLD) says of course and after a few rounds of drinks BBG gets on the mic accompanied by the bass guitarist. They did a few covers– yeah BBG can actually do songs and the house was livid. To which BLD takes advantage and grabs the other mic and they tear the house down with songs like Lenny Kravitz’s “I Want to Get Away”, The Roots “Silent Treatment” and Prince’s “Purple Rain”. Everyone had a great time the band sold out of CD’s and we all parted ways to drunkenly find our way home.

I think everyone reading should try this experiment in their town. I also hope the Experiment folks are reading this, as it took me a few days to get this up. And if you do read it please fill in the gaps because there’s a lot that I can’t make sense of. Thanks guys I had a ball– hope to see you guys again soon.

Administrator — December 22, 2005, 2:47 pm

From the Old School

Micki gave me this idea on her post of the same nature. My alma mater:

Simon Gratz High School
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.
Jump to: navigation, search
Simon Gratz High School is a secondary school located in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. An inner city school, it is perhaps best-known for its famous alumni (listed below).

Its address is 1798 Hunting Park Ave., Philadelphia, PA 19140.

Famous Alumni
Roy Campanella, former MLB player
William “Bill” Ellerbee, Gratz basketball coach
Gloria Gayman, Gratz teacher
William H. Gray, former U.S. Congressman, now President of the UNCF
John Green, Sheriff of Philadelphia County
Leroy Kelly, former NFL player
Pat Kelly, former MLB player
Joan Little, cause célèbre of the civil rights, feminist, prisoners’ rights, and anti-capital punishment movements.
Herman Mattleman, Esq., former President of the Philadelphia Board of Education
Aaron McKie, current NBA player
Katherine Streeter Lewis, the Honorable Judge of the Philadelphia Court of Common Pleas
Meldrick Taylor, 1984 Olympic gold medalist
Rasheed Wallace, current NBA player
Tif, occasional Blogger

Simon Gratz High School, named for the noted Philadelphia civic leader, legislator, educator and philanthropist, has been servicing the Tioga-Nicetown community of Philadelphia since 1927. The beautiful Gothic architecture of our comprehensive, academic high school stands as a monument to education, supporting the proposition that all children can learn at high levels and should be educated to their fullest potential. Not only is Simon Gratz renowned for it’s fine sports programs and graduates who have become professional athletes, political and civic leaders and professionals in their fields, but also as a school of Career Academies.

Our motto is “Educating the children of today for the opportunities of tomorrow.” Each Career Academy is committed to educating students in areas of their interest; each holds the philosophy that to educate students in an academy setting develops strong personal relationships and bonds. School-to-Career is a component of each academy, as well as Service Learning, Advanced placement and college preparatory courses of study.

Simon Gratz is a school committed to developing programs that promote success. Toward that end, the school community has moved to a block schedule of classes, a two semester school year, mid-year promotiom, and a full after school academic program. The schedule provides students and teachers more instructional time in each class and a curriculum that is more challenging.

Gratz also provides a comprehensive athletic program which has resulted in especially strong wrestling, football, baseball and basketball teams. The basketball team has participated in many celebrated tournaments, including Atlantic City’s Sea Gull Classic in 1972, 1976, 1984 and 1986; the Holiday Prep Classic in Las Vegas, Nevada in 1986 and 1989; the Pepsi Challenge Tournament in Philadelphia, 1985 and 1986; the Peach State Classic, Atlanta, Ga in 1989, and the Beach Ball Classic in Myrtle Beach, SC. Gratz’ teams have made the Philadelphia Public League Playoffs for the last 8 years, going to the semi-finals in 1984, 1985 and 1986, 1989, 1992, 1995 and 1996 and were City Champions in 1990, 1991, 1993 and 1994.

Many Gratz graduates have risen to professional prominence: Leroy Kelly, formerly of the Cleveland Browns; Pat Kelly, formerly of the Minnesota Twins; Meldrick Taylor; 1984 Olympic gold medalist; Rasheed Wallace, of the Portland Trailblazers; Aaron Mckie, the Philadelphia 76er’s; Gratz Basketball coach, William “Bill” Ellerbee; Gratz teacher, Gloria Gayman,

Other outstanding graduates are: Baseball Hall of Famer Roy Campanella, William H. Gray, III, former U.S. Congressman, now President of the UNCF; the Honorable John Green, Sheriff of Philadelphia County; Herman Mattleman, Esq., former President of the Philadelphia Board of Education; the Honorable Judge Katherine Streeter Lewis of the Philadelphia Court of Common Pleas; and James G. Slaughter, former Principal of Simon Gratz High School and our own Basketball coach, William “Bill” Ellerbee.

Simon Gratz High is a school on the move.
We have a vision of what we can become
and a belief that this vision will become a reality

Administrator — , 11:37 am

Welcome to New York

OK, I’ll take a stab at a personal post of some sorts. The lil woman and I were moving to NY. Big city of dreams. Well almost, a suburb in West Chester county 10 minutes outside the Bronx. She’s already living at her college roommate’s house in Brooklyn and I’m staying with a college friend in Queens. On the day we were to sign our lease I was traveling from Baltimore (I had to go back for a suit) to Stamford Connecticut for a job interview. I was so excited, a chance to make the big NY bucks, and I had just been on the Iyanla Van Sant show two days ago and after the job interview was going to go back and pitch a few ideas to her producers if possible. The show was cancelled before I even got to see my episode air.

I take a nap on the train for my 9am interview. I fall asleep when we get to the city (what suburbanites call Manhattan) at Penn Station 34th & 8th I believe. My honey calls me and tells me a plane has hit the world trade center. I tell her the pilot must of been drunk or something. A plane did crash into The Empire State building by accident before, so it didn’t seem strange to me. I looked back and couldn’t see the world trade center and went back to sleep. I won’t mention my proximity to the towers because I don’t think it matters–it’s irrelevant– me like you weren’t in them– that’s all that’s important. So she calls and says another plane has hit the other tower– I tell her not to wake me up again, I need to get some rest before the interview. I rest my eyes and think– what the hell is going on. I get off the train safely in Stamford, CT almost an hour north of the city and proceed to the job interview where people are running into the office with televisions. I interview and find my way back to my baby who can only call me because seemingly Sprint PCS as crappy as it may be was the only carrier that worked that day.

So of course there’s pandemonium everywhere, funny now that I think of it I didn’t get a call from anyone else, wow that’s love. I get to Micki’s office and there are a few folks still there and it dawns on me: “I know who did this!”

me: I know who did this!
followed by strange looks by Micki and co-workers
me: I know who did this!
mind you I’m a black bearded Muslim in a lily white worldwide banking corporate office
Micki:(a little above a whisper) Shut up!
me: no, I know who did this!
co-workers look on in curiosity like I’m going to say “Tyrone from 125th street got fired from the WTC gap last week”
me: Osama Bin Laden
everyone: who???
think about it no one knew who he was until that event
me: Osama Bin Laden

*tangent*My brother once wanted to get a Osama Bin Laden tattoo in the 90′s– good thing that didn’t pan out. I’m not gonna mention which brother– CIA please don’t torture us–we were young and stupid– we even drank malt liquor!*tangent*

So Micki thinks I’m an absolute idiot as she oft does and just rolls her eyes and tells me to shut up. I tell her to look it up. We head to the internet- few if any articles about Osama Bin Laden, so I could not prove my point. We found one article where he was interviewed by some mediocre journalist like in a McDonald’s in Jordan or some shit. So embarrassed corporate world bank working Micki and idiot boyfriend leave the office– to where? There was no way to get anywhere, highways, trains, airports– all immobile. So we go to a bar. Why not? A brewery in fact.

I’m pounding away libations and somewhere during the meal with a mouth full of some surf and turf mixture I ask “you gonna expense this right?” **soapbox**I don’t want to seem flippant but there was nothing I could do in that situation but live my life. As far as the dead, death is a part of life and I’ve seen so much death I don’t take the time to be concerned with it anymore. Hell I’m from Philadelphia, 370 murders this year, and I live in Baltimore, 260 heinous murders year to date. Also the same amount of Americans (if not more) have died in Iraq as the result of a ruse and it doesn’t seem to be the same empathy for them.**soapbox**

At dinner Micki calls around for hotels and there are no vacancies, so at that moment we had no where to stay, we knew no one in town and couldn’t reach– nor locate our friends. That’s when something hit me– the buddy that I was staying with worked for one of the companies that lost several hundred employees that day– Morgan Stanley, so many they had their own 800 number hotline–which I called and got no information. He didn’t work in the towers but you never know what meetings he had that day. I found out days later that he was OK and that was cool.

We find a hotel that would let us stay on a renovated floor if we promise to realize and accept the insufficient amenities. We gladly accept as we have no options. We check in I look at Micki “you gonna expense this?” We watch the news, most of which never was mentioned outside of New York– how white teens and white militia groups were getting caught with car/trucks full of bombs everywhere, trying to get to the tunnels and bridges. We watched other buildings collapse as stupid reporters and camera men explored them, we saw it all from a spectators view.

During the midst of all this commotion our future landlord called upset that we had stood him up at the lease signing and insisted we come sign the lease. Dude– you can’t be serious.

That was our welcome to New York.

September 11th, 2001

Administrator — , 9:13 am

Thank You For Guidance

I typed a long post yesterday and somehow lost it so I will fill this post with a little anecdote that you probably haven’t read in your studies or learned in church. I will ad-lib rather than look for the detailed account of this occurence. It goes like this. Disclaimer: I believe that none of these people are God so I don’t deem this blasphemy in any way.

So, someone wanted to know who was the greatest person on Earth– Jesus or Muhammad, so a contest was held. St. Peter the judge decided on a programming contest (guess you can tell I’m a programmer). The two gents were to devise the greatest computer program ever in under 60 seconds. So two laptops and desks were situated opposing eachother. I’m not sure the brand of laptop or what wi/fi connectivity they had -I just know it was a pure text pad for code like true programmers do.

So the whistle blows and Jesus and Muhammad start coding and they are typing feverishly. Jesus’s code is good but not great. Muhammad is coding up a masterpiece program and Jesus is trying to catch up and just before the minute is up lightning strikes- and all power is lost. Muhammad and Jesus yell some expletives and St. Peter intervenes and says that the contest is still to be decided upon once power is restored.

Power is restored and St. Peter walks over to Muhammad’s laptop, takes a look, makes a smirk and goes to Jesus’ laptop. He smiles and announces “we have a winner– Jesus!”. Muhammad is livid– “what-how– the power went out!” St. Peter looks at Muhammad and announces: “Jesus Saves”.

This joke brought to you by you by a Muslim who happens to be a programmer who’s learned that saving is very vital in this day and age. Thank you Jesus.

Administrator — December 21, 2005, 10:57 pm

You Don’t Know Me!

I’ve been reading Jamie and Jame’s blogs and damn if the names alone don’t make them the perfect couple. I also realized that although I love their blogs for the individual efforts– But, I could never be that “personal blogger”. For several reasons that I have already mentioned but for the record lets recap and append.

I don’t talk to anyone about almost anyone but maybe three people– I’m not the guy at the bar depressed telling my boys “man my girl tripping”. If she is that’s OUR discussion. Not saying that other blogging couples do– I don’t do it– It may interest yall but I just can’t let you into my household. Sure I can blog about the three times we’ve moved and that she “the librarian” has carted along 3 tons of books– but the little lady doesn’t like to be made fun of. I can spew on how a professional mover for millionaires complained about the boxes pon boxes of books we move and the boxes that we have stored at a friend house, but as I said the little lady doesn’t appreciate it.– Especially since I don’t read books.

She doesn’t blog about me: “honey you were drunk last night and slept at the neighbors, are you sure you’re booty hole is in tact?”

“Some guy claiming to be your brother showed up at our place said something about losing a machine gun? and asked was it in our household, honey isn’t your brother still in jail?”

“Honey, why does your other brother come over drink all the alcohol in the house, do his laundry, use the internet, and leave– shouldn’t he pay?”

And then there’s the fact that I work for a major media conglomerate and can’t nor will post about my job.

Then there’s the antics of folks I know that I could NEVER put on blast.

Then there’s the drug aspects– me involved in knowledge of minute volumes of all drug use and peddling– to the moving of major quantities of each– just cuz I know people of all walks of environment.

Me knowing who’s gay (Politicians/Professional Athletes) in this town

Me knowning the drug/political/real-The Wire/stuff and identiities in this town

Me knowing/have been/ involved in major stories/movies/news article events in the past

Me not knowing anything about relationships

All this leads to me not knowing anything.

Nothing that I can blog about.

Nothing that can/can’t get me: no sex/locked up/killed– honesty is a bitch

Administrator — December 20, 2005, 7:35 pm

I’m Slick Bitch!

Chapelle Show

I’m not absolutely sure but it is my belief that Dave Chapelle is back in business!

Tell me what you think

Appendix I

Turns out to be propoganda for a movie by Charlie Murphy and one of the writers of the Chapelle show. I aint mad at them– they gotta eat too. imagine if you’re part of a 50 million dollar deal and someone leave you high and dry (no pun intended). I aint mad at Dave Chapelle either– that man gotta conquer his own destiny and be mindful of his own intentions and only answer to God (subhana wa ta ala).

More info

Administrator — December 16, 2005, 10:34 am


Shortly before 7 a.m. Wednesday, a man with at least one gunshot wound to the head was found dead at a bus stop in the 5600 block of Eastern Ave., near Johns Hopkins Bayview Medical Center. Police withheld his name pending notification of relatives. Police consider his death suspicious, a police spokesman said.

By Gus G. Sentementes
Sun reporter
Originally published December 16, 2005

Administrator — December 13, 2005, 4:24 pm

After the Part is the After Party

Boom Boom

So Big Willie throws monthly parties with his friends, hip hop aficionados and DJ’s from far and wide. The crowd is diverse and by that I mean the true meaning of diverse, but cool, grown and sexy people nonetheless. Usually gets 200+ people and is a great time. So Saturday we had a great time at the Boom Boom, politicians, doctors, media, rappers, DJ’s, drunks, et al and the party is coming to an end. So Baba and Big Willie are in deep convo looking at me and it’s approaching 1:45 and I’m paying my tab before the establishment closes. So I see a few nods and Baba comes to me – “hey we were thinking—after party at your place”. I think whatever why not—and see Big Willie depart. I know the Lil Woman will get livid if she finds out about it before I give her the pitch and frantically wade through 300 people to get to her. Too late: “I hear, it’s an after party at our house”. I say no, baby I haven’t confirmed anything until I talked to you. Too late the rumor was around—the address was in the AIR. She was surprisingly game and it was on.

I told a few folks I was familiar with including the bar tender and owner of the club and they responded “oh we know where the after party is at”—this after I just confirmed it less than 2 minutes ago. We go to leave, in a six car entourage. We depart drive down one block when Big Willie calls: “yall have to pick me up!” We circle back around and all six cars park and people exit looking for my house. Look you drunkards we haven’t gone anywhere!

So we get Big Willie and head to my place. I alert the desk clerk that I have some guest coming over. It’s already 2:30 AM and he isn’t happy. So we go in another door but of course due to the 17 surveillance cameras he sees how many people are with me from and was pissed, and told the Lil Woman that the first complaint he’s calling the cops. She convinces him to alert us first so we can rectify the situation without involving the authorities. So we fill two elevators with folks to spare. Obviously I couldn’t be on both elevators but one elevator never left, I guess it was drunk proof—I just kept hearing bells and the doors opening and closing. So the beer carriers decide to go up about 10 flights of steps carrying three cases of beer because the girls didn’t know how to operate the elevator. So we get to my place and the festivities begin.

Some of us started playing a drinking game that also involves a pot (every player puts in $3—winner take all), when someone gets fed up and finds some dice. So there’s a crap game going on in my place, while others have found my liquor stash, so it’s drinking, gambling, and people making out all over the place. It wasn’t exactly Caligula but it was definitely a step from the norm in our usual conservative gatherings.

So this one kid is pissed he lost his money at what he calls a game of luck (craps) and wants to play an intellectual game (chess). He chooses Baba who isn’t an avid chess player and declines several times while the kid goes on and on about intellectual games. Sooner or later Baba agrees and they play for 10 bucks and Baba beats the kid in less than 10 minutes. So much for the intellectual games.

There’s no smoking in our place so people kept leaving in droves to go to the court yard to huddle in the cold and smoke cigarettes. The night went on and the last guests left around 6am after a long drunken night. In the morning we found a cell phone, cigarettes, and a case of beer—where this case of beer came from I have no clue—someone must of acquired it somehow later because I remember when we ran out of beer.

all in all it was a great night, nothing broken and no cops. Gotta love the impromptu after party.

Administrator — December 7, 2005, 10:26 am


Deep, never heard this story.

Payments to family of riot victim approved
York, Pa., settles suit in 1969 killing
Associated Press
Originally published December 7, 2005

YORK, Pa. // The children and sisters of a black woman who was killed during race riots in this Pennsylvania city 36 years ago will share in a $2 million settlement, city officials announced yesterday.
The deal would settle the lawsuit that Lillie Belle Allen’s family filed against the city and five former police officers, one of whom was more recently the city’s mayor.

It also calls for the creation of a memorial to Allen and Henry Schaad, a white city policeman who also was shot to death during the 10 days of rioting in the summer of 1969.

“I thank God we’ve finally come to closure,” said Hattie Dickson of York, one of Allen’s sisters, who joined other family members and city officials at a news conference.

York Mayor John Brenner apologized to Allen’s family.

“We are very sorry for your loss, and I know no monetary settlement and no community dialogue will bring back Lillie Belle Allen,” he said.

The lawsuit had been scheduled to go to trial in April.

The settlement, to be paid by city taxpayers, was approved last night by the five-member City Council. Council President Cameron Texter had called the settlement “absolutely fair.”

The settlement agreement provides for annual payments of $200,000 over 10 years to Dickson; Allen’s other sister, Jennie Settles; and Allen’s two children, Michael, who was 9 when she was killed, and Debra Grier, who was 11.

Allen, 27, who lived in Aiken, S.C., was visiting relatives when she was killed. Family members were confronted by a mob of white youths when they drove into the city on July 21, 1969. Allen was shot when she got out of the vehicle to take the wheel from her frightened sister.

Her case went unsolved for more than 30 years until prosecutors convened a grand jury and uncovered new evidence.

The wrongful-death lawsuit accused former York Mayor Charlie Robertson, who was a police officer at the time of the shooting; four other former officers; and the city of inciting violence and covering up evidence and identities of those involved.

Robertson was acquitted of murder charges in a 2002 trial. Two white men were convicted of second-degree murder and are serving lengthy prison sentences, and seven other white men pleaded guilty or no contest to lesser offenses.

Two black men were convicted of second-degree murder in Schaad’s killing.

Administrator — December 6, 2005, 10:46 am

Death for Dummies

Being that I don’t see being a Supreme Court candidate anywhere in my future, I think I’ll spew on the death penalty a bit and for the record I’m pro-choice. This decision not to join the high court is not because I’m not a judge, that doesn’t seem to matter, it’s just because I’m no friend of your president and that’s all it seems to take. So recently lying in bed one morning listening to the news, me and the lady learn that MD is to execute some guy for killing a woman in front of her grandchildren in 1991. “Kill him!”, the lil lady yells, I concur at the time. Why? Because some bastard killed this grandmother in front of her grandchildren. My initial thoughts.

So I get to work and I read up a bit on it. So this black dude goes to a mall finds a victim to rob– who happens to be white and shoots her in front of her grandchildren. Not to make light of the situation and label it any less heinous– in my mind I saw children in a house tied up and forced to watch some evil man make a woman die a slow death– had to be– why else would the death penalty be bestowed upon this dastardly being. So I immediately changed my mind– oh hell no I thought– this dude does not deserve the death penalty. Why did I go 180 degrees?– because if that was me, my brother and sister leaving a mall with my grandmother (we’re Black) and she got smoked, hell toss in a rape for good measure–in 1991– the guy would not only not get the death penalty– he’d probably be out on parole right now. And as a co-worker said “working some government job somewhere–delivering mail or some shit– ready to flip”.

Now let’s look at this a minute– if that were my grandmother, I would indeed want that dude to die and would probably waste my life away trying to kill or get the dude killed. You may think, so yes the death penalty is appropriate in this case. Yes, I think he should die, but the fact of the matter is– I’m an idiot– and no idiot should be able to rightfully make the decision whether a man is put to death or not. But idiots do however make that decision– everyday. Someone is killed each day because someone decided that person didn’t deserve to live anymore. But those people are idiots– 12 people randomly selected from all walks of life to decide on a man’s fate apparently aren’t. And I’m not talking 12 Supreme court justices, I’m talking about 12 people so insignificant in life they can miss a week or month of work and nobody gives a damn. I’m talking 12 people not astute enough to figure out how to avoid jury duty– finalizing the fate of a human being.

Now all racial implications aside– I can go on forever about how unless you kill a white person or a cop, you can avoid the chair. My beef is with the death penalty and the process in itself. So 12 idiots decide a guy should die, and the only mortal who can alter that decision is a politician. So you got 12 idiots saying a person should die and only one idiot who can say otherwise. And why should he– 12 people already said he should die

So say this happened to my grandmother and I hunted the guy down and killed him– do I get the death penalty? I probably wouldn’t but I would spend a good portion of my life unfree, demeaned and destined for failure for making the same decision 12 idiots would of made anyway. And that’s the irony of our justice system. Black or white.


Appeals Court Denies Stay of Execution for Baker
Wednesday November 23, 2005 4:24pm

Annapolis, Md. (AP) – Maryland’s highest court rejected a request for a stay of execution from Wesley Eugene Baker Wednesday.

Baker’s lawyers had argued that he should get a new trial because of a state study showing racial and geographic discrimination in the way the death penalty is imposed in Maryland. Baker is scheduled to die the week of Dec. 5 for a 1991 murder.

The court ejected his request for a stay of execution. It also denied Baker the right to appeal a Harford County court ruling that rejected his request for a new sentencing hearing.

Baker was sentenced to die by lethal injection for killing 49-year-old Jane Tyson in a Baltimore County shopping center parking lot as her grandchildren watched.

His attorney, Gary Christopher, said he will file an appeal with the U.S. Supreme Court next week. He also has filed a new appeal with the state Court of Appeals saying that the lawyers who represented Baker at his sentencing did not present evidence about the abuse he suffered as a child.

Copyright 2005 by The Associated Press.
All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.

Appendix I

Forgot to mention they did kill the guy yesterday (12/6/05)

Appendix II

Tookie Washington Tookie Williams, crips co-founder (other co-founder was Raymond Washington hence the mistake), murderer, latter children’s book writer and Nobel Peace Prize candidate is scheduled to be put to death this month and the only person that can say otherwise is Arnold Schwarzenegger. Go figure.

Appendix III

The executed Tookie last night around midite EST 12/13/05

Administrator — December 2, 2005, 7:14 am

Hospitality 101

You can’t come in to no negroe’s home–even if you gave it to them–and tell them when to get out of bed. Two wrongs don’t make a right but two Wrights made an airplane.

A gift of generosity goes awry
Ties are broken when a vacant home offered to a displaced Katrina family is left in disarray

By Rona Marech and Mary Gail Hare
sun reporters
Originally published December 2, 2005

The Brown family of Louisiana fled Hurricane Katrina with nothing. The DiMaggio family and its Westminster church, the Firm Foundation Worship Center, had a vacant home and the desire to help.

But what seemed like a fortunate connection gradually dissolved into a flurry of accusations and bruised feelings.

Sandra and Keith Brown, who drove to Carroll County after the hurricane with seven of their eight children, say their hosts were patronizing and disrespectful. The DiMaggios said the Browns left the house in disarray and didn’t appreciate all the community had done for them. The DiMaggios were stunned, they said, when they found the words “MD sucks” spray-painted on the new white siding on the home’s exterior.

While cases of generosity gone awry are in the minority, disaster-relief experts say some misunderstanding and frustration are practically inevitable as people – even those with the best intentions – come to terms with what it means to help and be helped.

A man from Nashville, Tenn., who had opened his vacant retirement home to a family of Katrina evacuees said the family left the property damaged and filled with trash, an experience that he said “left a bad taste in my mouth.”

In a Minnesota town, the story of two women who took in a family displaced by Katrina – highlighted on Good Morning America – ended unhappily, after tensions in the household led to the Louisiana family leaving.

“There are times when people expect a grateful victim,” said Ande Miller, the executive director of National Voluntary Organizations Active in Disaster, a Virginia association of faith-based institutions and other disaster relief agencies.

“We don’t always pay attention to the fact that they’ve had a terrible thing happen to them, and it’s hard to be grateful when your home was just destroyed. You have to put in perspective what we’re asking them to be grateful for.”

It’s unclear exactly how and when the relationship between the DiMaggios and the Browns unraveled. But most of the Brown family left for Louisiana on Sunday without so much as a “thank you” to the congregation, church members said.

When Firm Foundation Worship Center pastors and several members of the congregation visited the home shortly after the Sunday service, they found piles of donated clothing littering the porch. A trampoline lent to the children was slashed. A small hole around the electrical socket in the bathroom is now much larger. Trash, broken glass and clutter filled the house, said the DiMaggios, who have since cleaned up with help from volunteers.

“We gave them a house to live in for free, so that they could work and save their money to get back on their feet,” said Marge DiMaggio. “They had nothing when they came, and we were happy to help them. We passed on donations that came to us for them.” Donations included a car, a refrigerator, washing machine and clothing for the family.

Keith and Sandra Brown said two of their sons, who have found jobs and remained in Westminster, were planning to clean the house once the remaining family had moved out.

Elijah Brown, 19, helped with the cleaning Monday. Josh Brown, 22, who admitted spray painting the words on the house, has promised to remove the graffiti. It’s unclear whether the two brothers, who are living with other volunteers, are going to stay in town.

“I am more grateful than anyone will ever know. People we hardly knew gave us so many things. I have thank-you cards ready. … I really thought Maryland was beautiful, and I felt truly blessed,” Sandra Brown said in a phone interview yesterday. But she said some church members continued to act like the house was their own and “treated my husband and me like children.”

Rosalind Blakey, who connected the two families through her grassroots organization, Home Resources Services, said church members would “come into their house and not knock and tell them it was time to get up and not to sleep so late. … Treating them as if they were their project or their assignment.”

Paul Wilson, the executive director of Katrinahous, a Salt Lake City-based organization that helped connect thousands of donors with evacuees in need of housing, said he has received all-too-many after-the-fact e-mails from exasperated survivors and benefactors.

“You’re going to have conflicts like this arise when people open their homes,” Wilson said. “It’s not fun to see the ugly side of humanity. It hasn’t soured me, but it’s not easy to bear a lot of this.”

Carroll County’s tempest has at least partially cooled, however. Most of the Browns, who didn’t intend to stay in Maryland, are back home trying to rebuild. “You can try to make it as cozy as you can here for them, but their home was in Louisiana,” Blakey said.

The DiMaggios said they’re moving on.

“We are not discouraged, and this won’t stop us from helping other people in need,” said Marge DiMaggio.

“If you help 100 people and three of them don’t treat you right,” her husband said, “it doesn’t stop you from helping.”

Administrator — November 25, 2005, 9:18 am

Happy Thanksgiving!

First Genocide, Then Lie About It
Why I Hate Thanksgiving

With much material contributed by Peter Linebaugh and
others whose names have over the years been lost.–MC

The year was 1492. The Taino-Arawak people of the Bahamas
discovered Christopher Columbus on their beach.

Historian Howard Zinn tells us how Arawak men and women,
naked, tawny, and full of wonder, emerged from their
villages onto the island’s beaches and swam out to get a
closer look at the strange big boat. When Columbus and his
sailors came ashore, carrying swords, speaking oddly, the
Arawaks ran to greet them, brought them food, water, gifts.
Columbus later wrote of this in his log. Here is what he

“They brought us parrots and balls of cotton and spears and
many other things, which they exchanged for the glass beads
and hawks’ bells. They willingly traded everything they
owned. They were well-built, with good bodies and handsome
features. They do not bear arms, and do not know them, for
I showed them a sword, they took it by the edge and cut
themselves out of ignorance. They have no iron. Their
spears are made of sugar cane. They would make fine
servants. With 50 men we could subjugate them all and make
them do whatever we want.”

And so the conquest began, and the Thanotocracy — the
regime of death — was inaugurated on the continent the
Indians called “Turtle Island.”

You probably already know a good piece of the story: How
Columbus’s Army took Arawak and Taino people prisoners and
insisted that they take him to the source of their gold,
which they used in tiny ornaments in their ears. And how,
with utter contempt and cruelty, Columbus took many more
Indians prisoners and put them aboard the Nina and the
Pinta — the Santa Maria having run aground on the island
of Hispañola (today, the Dominican Republic and Haiti).
When some refused to be taken prisoner, they were run
through with swords and bled to death. Then the Nina and
the Pinta set sail for the Azores and Spain. During the
long voyage, many of the Indian prisoners died. Here’s part
of Columbus’s report to Queen Isabella and King Ferdinand
of Spain:

“The Indians are so naive and so free with their
possessions that no one who has not witnessed them would
believe it. When you ask for something they have, they
never say no. To the contrary, they offer to share with
anyone.” Columbus concluded his report by asking for a
little help from the King and Queen, and in return he would
bring them “as much gold as they need, and as many slaves
as they ask.”

Columbus returned to the New World — “new” for Europeans,
that is — with 17 ships and more than 1,200 men. Their aim
was clear: Slaves, and gold. They went from island to
island in the Caribbean, taking Indians as captives. But
word spread ahead of them. By the time they got to Fort
Navidad on Haiti, the Taino had risen up and killed all the
sailors left behind on the last voyage, after they had
roamed the island in gangs raping women and taking children
and women as slaves. Columbus later wrote: “Let us in the
name of the Holy Trinity go on sending all the slaves that
can be sold.” The Indians began fighting back, but were no
match for the Spaniard conquerors, even though they greatly
outnumbered them. In eight years, Columbus’s men murdered
more than 100,000 Indians on Haiti alone. Overall, dying as
slaves in the mines, or directly murdered, or from diseases
brought to the Caribbean by the Spaniards, over 3 million
Indian people were murdered between 1494 and 1508.

What Columbus did to the Arawaks of the Bahamas and the
Taino of the Caribbean, Cortez did to the Aztecs of Mexico,
Pizarro to the Incas of Peru, and the English settlers of
Virginia and Massachusetts to the Powhatans and the
Pequots. Literally millions of native peoples were
slaughtered. And the gold, slaves and other resources were
used, in Europe, to spur the growth of the new money
economy rising out of feudalism. Karl Marx would later call
this “the primitive accumulation of capital.” These were
the violent beginnings of an intricate system of
technology, business, politics and culture that would
dominate the world for the next five centuries.

All of this were the preconditions for the first
Thanksgiving. In the North American English colonies, the
pattern was set early, as Columbus had set it in the
islands of the Bahamas. In 1585, before there was any
permanent English settlement in Virginia, Richard Grenville
landed there with seven ships. The Indians he met were
hospitable, but when one of them stole a small silver cup,
Grenville sacked and burned the whole Indian village.

The Jamestown colony was established in Virginia in 1607,
inside the territory of an Indian confederacy, led by the
chief, Powhatan. Powhatan watched the English settle on his
people’s land, but did not attack. And the English began
starving. Some of them ran away and joined the Indians,
where they would at least be fed. Indeed, throughout
colonial times tens of thousands of indentured servants,
prisoners and slaves — from Wales and Scotland as well as
from Africa — ran away to live in Indian communities,
intermarry, and raise their children there.

In the summer of 1610 the governor of Jamestown colony
asked Powhatan to return the runaways, who were living
fully among the Indians. Powhatan left the choice to those
who ran away, and none wanted to go back. The governor of
Jamestown then sent soldiers to take revenge. They
descended on an Indian community, killed 15 or 16 Indians,
burned the houses, cut down the corn growing around the
village, took the female leader of the tribe and her
children into boats, then ended up throwing the children
overboard and shooting out their brains in the water. The
female leader was later taken off the boat and stabbed to

By 1621, the atrocities committed by the English had grown,
and word spread throughout the Indian villages. The Indians
fought back, and killed 347 colonists. From then on it was
total war. Not able to enslave the Indians the English
aristocracy decided to exterminate them.

And then the Pilgrims arrived.

When the Pilgrims came to New England they too were coming
not to vacant land but to territory inhabited by tribes of
Indians. The story goes that the Pilgrims, who were
Christians of the Puritan sect, were fleeing religious
persecution in Europe. They had fled England and went to
Holland, and from there sailed aboard the Mayflower, where
they landed at Plymouth Rock in what is now Massachusetts.

Religious persecution or not, they immediately turned to
their religion to rationalize their persecution of others.
They appealed to the Bible, Psalms 2:8: “Ask of me, and I
shall give thee, the heathen for thine inheritance, and the
uttermost parts of the earth for thy possession.” To
justify their use of force to take the land, they cited
Romans 13:2: “Whosoever therefore resisteth the power,
resisteth the ordinance of God: and they that resist shall
receive to themselves damnation.”

The Puritans lived in uneasy truce with the Pequot Indians,
who occupied what is now southern Connecticut and Rhode
Island. But they wanted them out of the way; they wanted
their land. And they seemed to want to establish their rule
firmly over Connecticut settlers in that area.

In 1636 an armed expedition left Boston to attack the
Narragansett Indians on Block Island. The English landed
and killed some Indians, but the rest hid in the thick
forests of the island and the English went from one
deserted village to the next, destroying crops. Then they
sailed back to the mainland and raided Pequot villages
along the coast, destroying crops again.

The English went on setting fire to wigwams of the village.
They burned village after village to the ground. As one of
the leading theologians of his day, Dr. Cotton Mather put
it: “It was supposed that no less than 600 Pequot souls
were brought down to hell that day.” And Cotton Mather,
clutching his bible, spurred the English to slaughter more
Indians in the name of Christianity.

Three hundred thousand Indians were murdered in New England
over the next few years. It is important to note: The
ordinary Englishmen did not want this war and often, very
often, refused to fight. Some European intellectuals like
Roger Williams spoke out against it. And some erstwhile
colonists joined the Indians and even took up arms against
the invaders from England. It was the Puritan elite who
wanted the war, a war for land, for gold, for power. And,
in the end, the Indian population of 10 million that was in
North America when Columbus came was reduced to less than
one million.

The way the different Indian peoples lived — communally,
consensually, making decisions through tribal councils,
each tribe having different sexual/marriage relationships,
where many different sexualities were practiced as the norm
– contrasted dramatically with the Puritan’s Christian
fundamentalist values. For the Puritans, men decided
everything, whereas in the Iroquois federation of what is
now New York state women chose the men who represented the
clans at village and tribal councils; it was the women who
were responsible for deciding on whether or not to go to
war. The Christian idea of male dominance and female
subordination was conspicuously absent in Iroquois society.

There were many other cultural differences: The Iroquois
did not use harsh punishment on children. They did not
insist on early weaning or early toilet training, but
gradually allowed the child to learn to care for
themselves. And, they did not believe in ownership of land;
they utilized the land, lived on it. The idea of ownership
was ridiculous, absurd. The European Christians, on the
other hand, in the spirit of the emerging capitalism,
wanted to own and control everything — even children and
other human beings. The pastor of the Pilgrim colony, John
Robinson, thus advised his parishioners: “And surely there
is in all children a stubbornness, and stoutness of mind
arising from natural pride, which must, in the first place,
be broken and beaten down; that so the foundation of their
education being laid in humility and tractableness, other
virtues may, in their time, be built thereon.” That idea
sunk in.

One colonist said that the plague that had destroyed the
Patuxet people — a combination of slavery, murder by the
colonists and disease — was “the Wonderful Preparation of
the Lord Jesus Christ by His Providence for His People’s
Abode in the Western World.” The Pilgrims robbed Wampanoag
graves for the food that had been buried with the dead for
religious reasons. Whenever the Pilgrims realized they were
being watched, they shot at the Wampanoags, and scalped
them. Scalping had been unknown among Native Americans in
New England prior to its introduction by the English, who
began the practice by offering the heads of their enemies
and later accepted scalps.

“What do you think of Western Civilization?” Mahatma Gandhi
was asked in the 1940s. To which Gandhi replied: “Western
Civilization? I think it would be a good idea.” And so
enters “Civilization,” the civilization of Christian
Europe, a “civilizing force” that couldn’t have been more
threatened by the beautiful anarchy of the Indians they
encountered, and so slaughtered them.

These are the Puritans that the Indians “saved”, and whom
we celebrate in the holiday, Thanksgiving. Tisquantum, also
known as Squanto, a member of the Patuxet Indian nation.
Samoset, of the Wabonake Indian nation, which lived in
Maine. They went to Puritan villages and, having learned to
speak English, brought deer meat and beaver skins for the
hungry, cold Pilgrims. Tisquantum stayed with them and
helped them survive their first years in their New World.
He taught them how to navigate the waters, fish and
cultivate corn and other vegetables. He pointed out
poisonous plants and showed how other plants could be used
as medicines. He also negotiated a peace treaty between the
Pilgrims and Massasoit, head chief of the Wampanoags, a
treaty that gave the Pilgrims everything and the Indians
nothing. And even that treaty was soon broken. All this is
celebrated as the First Thanksgiving.

My own feeling? The Indians should have let the Pilgrims
die. But they couldn’t do that. Their humanity made them
assist other human beings in need. And for that beautiful,
human, loving connection they — and those of us who are
not Indian as well — paid a terrible price: The genocide
of the original inhabitants of Turtle Island, what is now

Let’s look at one example of the Puritan values — which
were not, I repeat, the values of the English working class
values that we “give thanks for” on this holiday. The
example of the Maypole, and Mayday.

In 1517, 25 years after Columbus first landed in the
Bahamas, the English working class staged a huge revolt.
This was done through the guilds. King Henry VIII brought
Lombard bankers from Italy and merchants from France in
order to undercut wages, lengthen hours, and break the
guilds. This alliance between international finance,
national capital and military aristocracy was in the
process of merging into the imperialist nation-state.

The young workers of London took their revenge upon the
merchants. A secret rumor said the commonality — the
vision of communal society that would counter the rich, the
merchants, the industrialists, the nobility and the
landowners — would arise on May Day. The King and Lords
got frightened — householders were armed, a curfew was
declared. Two guys didn’t hear about the curfew (they
missed Dan Rather on t.v.). They were arrested. The shout
went out to mobilize, and 700 workers stormed the jails,
throwing bricks, hot water, stones. The prisoners were
freed. A French capitalist’s house was trashed.

Then came the repression: Cannons were fired into the city.
Three hundred were imprisoned, soldiers patrolled the
streets, and a proclamation was made that no women were
allowed to meet together, and that all men should “keep
their wives in their houses.” The prisoners were brought
through the streets tied in ropes. Some were children.
Eleven sets of gallows were set up throughout the city.
Many were hanged. The authorities showed no mercy, but
exhibited extreme cruelty.

Thus the dreaded Thanatocracy, the regime of death, was
inaugurated in answer to proletarian riot at the beginning
of capitalism. The May Day riots were caused by
expropriation (people having been uprooted from their lands
they had used for centuries in common), and by exploitation
(people had no jobs, as the monarchy imported capital).
Working class women organizers and healers who posed an
alternative to patriarchal capitalism — were burned at the
stake as witches. Enclosure, conquest, famine, war and
plague ravaged the people who, in losing their commons,
also lost a place to put their Maypole.

Suddenly, the Maypole became a symbol of rebellion. In 1550
Parliament ordered the destruction of Maypoles (just as,
during the Vietnam war, the U.S.-backed junta in Saigon
banned the making of all red cloth, as it was being sewn
into the blue, yellow and red flags of the National
Liberation Front).

In 1664, near the end of the Puritans’ war against the
Pequot Indians, the Puritans in England abolished May Day
altogether. They had defeated the Indians, and they were
attempting to defeat the growing proletarian insurgency at
home as well.

Although translators of the Bible were burned, its last
book, Revelation, became an anti-authoritarian manual
useful to those who would turn the Puritan world upside
down, such as the Family of Love, the Anabaptists, the
Diggers, Levellers, Ranters, and Thomas Morton, the man who
in 1626 went to Merry Mount in Quincy Mass, and with his
Indian friends put up the first Maypole in America, in
contempt of Puritan rule.

The Puritans destroyed it, exiled him, plagued the Indians,
and hanged gay people and Quakers. Morton had come over on
his own, a boat person, an immigrant. So was Anna Lee, who
came over a few years later, the Manchester proletarian who
founded the communal living, gender separated Shakers, who
praised God in ecstatic dance, and who drove the Puritans
up the wall.

The story of the Maypole as a symbol of revolt continued.
It crossed cultures and continued through the ages. In the
late 1800s, the Sioux began the Ghost Dance in a circle,
“with a large pine tree in the center, which was covered
with strips of cloth of various colors, eagle feathers,
stuffed birds, claws, and horns, all offerings to the Great
Spirit.” They didn’t call it a Maypole and they danced for
the unity of all Indians, the return of the dead, and the
expulsion of the invaders on a particular day, the 4th of
July, but otherwise it might as well have been a Mayday!

Wovoka, a Nevada Paiute, started it. Expropriated, he cut
his hair. To buy watermelon he rode boxcars to work in the
Oregon hop fields for small wages, exploited. The Puget
Sound Indians had a new religion — they stopped drinking
alcohol, became entranced, and danced for five days,
jerking twitching, calling for their land back, just like
the Shakers! Wovoka took this back to Nevada: “All Indians
must dance, everywhere, keep on dancing.” Soon they were.
Porcupine took the dance across the Rockies to the Sioux.
Red Cloud and Sitting Bull advanced the left foot following
with the right, hardly lifting the feet from the ground.
The Federal Agents banned the Ghost Dance! They claimed it
was a cause of the last Sioux outbreak, just as the
Puritans had claimed the Maypole had caused the May Day
proletarian riots, just as the Shakers were dancing people
into communality and out of Puritanism.

On December 29 1890 the Government (with Hotchkiss guns
throwing 2 pound explosive shells at 50 a minute — always
developing new weapons!) massacred more than 300 men, women
and children at Wounded Knee. As in the Waco holocaust, or
the bombing of MOVE in Philadelphia, the State disclaimed
responsibility. The Bureau of Ethnology sent out James
Mooney to investigate. Amid Janet Reno-like tears, he
wrote: “The Indians were responsible for the engagement.”

In 1970, the town of Plymouth Rock, Massachusetts held, as
it does each year, a Thanksgiving Ceremony given by the
townspeople. There are many speeches for the crowds who
attend. That year — the year of Nixon’s secret invasion of
Cambodia; the year 4 students were massacred at Kent State
and 13 wounded for opposing the war; the year they tried to
electrocute Black Panthers Bobby Seale and Erica Huggins –
the Massachusetts Department of Commerce asked the
Wampanoag Indians to select a speaker to mark the 350th
anniversary of the Pilgrims’ arrival, and the first

Frank James, who is a Wampanoag, was selected. But before
he was allowed to speak he was told to show a copy of his
speech to the white people in charge of the ceremony. When
they saw what he had written, they would not allow him to
read it.

First, the genocide. Then, the suppression of all
discussion about it.

What do Indian people find to be Thankful for in this
America? What does anyone have to be Thankful for in the
genocide of the Indians, that this “holyday” commemorates?
As we sit with our families on Thanksgiving, taking any
opportunity we can to get out of work or off the streets
and be in a warm place with people we love, we realize that
all the things we have to be thankful for have nothing at
all to do with the Pilgrims, nothing at all to do with
Amerikan history, and everything to do with the
alternative, anarcho-communist lives the Indian peoples
led, before they were massacred by the colonists, in the
name of privatization of property and the lust for gold and

Yes, I am an American. But I am an American in revolt. I am
revolted by the holiday known as Thanksgiving. I have been
accused of wanting to go backwards in time, of being
against progress. To those charges, I plead guilty. I want
to go back in time to when people lived communally, before
the colonists’ Christian god was brought to these shores to
sanctify their terrorism, their slavery, their hatred of
children, their oppression of women, their holocausts. But
that is impossible. So all I look forward to the utter
destruction of the apparatus of death known as Amerika –
not the people, not the beautiful land, but the machinery,
the State, the capitalism, the Christianity and all that it
stands for. I look forward to a future where I will have
children with Amerika, and they will be the new Indians.

Mitchel Cohen is co-editor of “Green Politix”, the national
newspaper of the Greens/Green Party USA,, and organizes
with the NoSpray Coalition and the Brooklyn Greens. He can
be reached at:

In memorium. Lest we forget. The First Thanksgiving

Administrator — November 23, 2005, 7:58 am

Suprise, Surprise, Surpise!

I was reading Nia’s blog and one of her accounts in “Tales from the CCCrypt” reminded me of a similar tale. Me and my daughter then maybe 2-3 years old are chilling in my one bedroom apartment in Baltimore where crime is avidly ramped. My sweetie and I had just begun to date and lived in two separate states and she said she could not make it this weekend as she had to study, etc. etc. So somewhere in the middle of reading my daughter a book, putting her to bed– I hear a bump in the night. So I ignore it– maybe my imagination– and I hear it again– a *thump at my door. So I candidly go to the door to look out my peep-hole and it is covered. Me no stranger to danger– didn’t panic, but my daughter was in the bedroom 10 feet away, also I remember the HBO special with this hitman called Iceman or whatever who would kill his victims by knocking on their door and waiting til he would hear them come and shoot them through the door.

So I go and grab my girlfriend, and by girlfriend I do mean an inanimate object ala Tupac, and stand by the door. I announce “whoever is out there you have until the count of three to announce yourself or be gone”. I count, 1…no answer. 2… no answer 3… no answer. I cock the gilfriend (sounds pornographic) and that’s when the panic ensues: “It’s me!, it’s me!” I hear. It was my future baby. She had come all the way to Bmore to surprise me. Good thing I didn’t shoot her. She is my baby, but my girlfriend will always be a few pounds of blue steel.

Administrator — November 22, 2005, 10:08 am

B-More Careful

Baltimore ranked 6th-most-dangerous city

By John Fritze
Sun Reporter
Originally published November 22, 2005

Baltimore is the sixth-most-dangerous city in the country – worse than Atlanta, Washington and Gary, Ind. – and the second-most dangerous of the nation’s largest cities, according to an annual ranking released yesterday.

Despite a reduction in crime in recent years, Baltimore rose five positions from the 11th-most- dangerous city last year, according to the report by Morgan Quitno Press of Lawrence, Kan. The new rankings are based on 2004 FBI crime data.

City Hall officials quickly sought a silver lining in the deluge of negative data as they repeated a familiar message that crime is down nearly 40 percent since 1999.

“The numbers also show that we are making strides in reducing violent crime,” said Raquel Guillory, a spokeswoman for Mayor Martin O’Malley. “We continue to remain focused on reducing crime here in Baltimore.”

Baltimore’s crime has already become an issue in Maryland’s race for governor, which O’Malley entered in September. Montgomery County Executive Douglas M. Duncan, also a Democratic candidate for governor, issued a statement yesterday through his campaign that said he was disheartened by the survey.

Baltimore ranked sixth out of 369 cities – more dangerous than Miami, Philadelphia and New York. When compared to cities with a population of 500,000 or more, Baltimore ranked second, behind only Detroit.

Camden, N.J., topped the list of dangerous cities, and, according to the report, Newton, Mass., was the safest city in the country.

Criminal justice scientists have often criticized the company’s rankings as overly simplistic and statistically shaky. They do not place data in the context of population density, economic conditions and other factors.

Cities are measured in six crime categories – murder, rape, robbery, aggravated assault, burglary and motor vehicle theft – and are compared to a national average.


My thoughts.

I’ve lived a few places mentioned here, Philly, Bmore, New York, and even lived in Camden, NJ (voted #1 most dangerous). I always spew on the fact that Camden is gully as hell and so bad that the National Guard was called in because the police force was insufficient to handle crime in Camden. When I lived in Camden (70′s) it wasn’t so bad but what it was, was the pool from which would eventually haunt Camden. In the 70′s after gangs were pretty much on hiatus and basically defunct in Philadelphia- the resulting Black Mafia movement affluent in their ways, could no longer reside within the city limits, a) for safety, and b) for luxury- Camden was the new- Negroe suburb. It wasn’t only for Black gangsters but it was for all escapist Negroes. What they didn’t realize that they were all moving to the same small town and the same big town thug mentality resided in these new residents and was instilled in their offspring who kill eachother like it’s going out of style daily. Camden also struggles with a Napoleon typed complex, I’ll call “little city complex”. They actually strive to be the number one city in crime as to shun neighboring Philadelphia and New York.

Cities that have this “little city complex” that I’ve been too are Camden– as noted, Pittsburgh, and of course Baltimore. Now don’t get me wrong– I love Baltimore– and Pittsburgh and Camden, but this city as the saying goes– “is on some other shit”. Baltimore’s mentality is “New York got they thing, D.C. (Washington) has there’s, Philly…, let’s do our own thing”. What that thing is– I have no clue but it’s doing the total opposite of any other city– I know that much. What I do know– is that when it comes to crime– being that I’m no stranger to crime or criminal activity– this city is on “some other shit”. Besides the heroin problem that I spoke of in this post– the mind of a Baltimore criminal is totally different than any I have encountered, and I will cite incidents and facts.

First off– I know some sick muthafuckas. In High School my boy was killed by his blood- same mother and father- brother, in the streets in front of everyone. Not only did he shoot his brother– he decided to empty the entire gun into his head while he was on the ground. That is normal to me– perfectly sound. My other boy, maybe 10 years back, was in my kitchen and looked around and said “I don’t like this kitchen– looks like where I shot my pop” –again-normal– perfectly sound to me. I’m not saying any of these incidents were right– they were wrong as hell– but I can comprehend them. Hell, a real life “I kill and eat people” serial killer Gary Heidnek lived less than a mile from me- but all that would not prepare me for the Baltimore criminal mind.

Now let’s talk about the Baltimore criminal and a thing I call “couth” or “ethics”. When I first moved here my uncle, an aging 300 pound cook asked me to borrow a gun. For what I asked? Because he would get robbed weekly as he walked home. I know wayward kids and teens have their fun but what grown man in his right mind robs a wage worker? If you have the mocksy to pull out a weapon and demand money of someone a)do it to someone that has money that they didn’t slave to get and b) someone higher than you on the physical chain– no elderly, women, children, etc. Rule of the game is you only rob people in the game (drug dealers/users/hookers/etc.). Not here, check the Police logs. Here- there are no rules to the game.

Things I noticed when I moved here that had me totally in awe:

Constant robbery/burglary of churches. In one instance the whole congregation was held hostage during a robbery.
Murdering of women- four women were murdered over a drug debt- young and old– and the killer let the male live.
Also the killing of an entire family– mostly women because they didn’t like the drug selling in front of their door. And then there’s the idiots that killed and burned a teenage girl so she couldn’t testify in a statutory rape trial. I think the idiot who would of definitely got off given the sex was consensual is now serving 60 years or so, and his dumb ass boys are serving life for helping him in this mastermind scheme.

This is not to attest that Baltimore just has dumb criminals– I know some of the absolute most dumbest idiot criminals there are alive– I’m related to half of them– but regardless of how dumb they are, they maintain “couth”– ethics”. And when this couth and ethics is breeched some other criminal pulls them up on it. See Chicago awhile back where a gang member killed a civilian (can’t remember if it was a woman, child or elderly person). When the city was at arms to find this degenerate bastard– they did indeed find him– killed by his own gang. Rule of the game: don’t fuck with civilians– it’s against the law.

So in summary– what makes Baltimore different than most other cities is the instability and spontaneity of the criminal. To use a colloquialism I like: You honestly can’t figure these niggas. And it aint even just the Black people– I have never been to a Northern city where the white folks are scarier than the black folks. This as I tell friends from Philly, NY, DC- makes Baltimore harder than any city I ever been to, including Philly, NY, Flint, East St. Louis, Camden, Chicago, et al. And this is why you basically can’t control/fight crime here– you have no clue what the hell is going on in the mind of a Baltimore criminal.

Appendix I

A sampling of Baltimore Crime from today (11/22/05) alone:

Shootings // Two teenage boys were walking in the 5100 block of Hillen Road about 9 p.m. Sunday when one of three men who passed them on the street fired several shots. One of the boys was hit on the left side of his face, the other in the head. Both were treated at Good Samaritan Hospital, and were expected to survive.

Arrest // A 14-year-old boy was arrested about 11 a.m. yesterday in the 1400 block of E. Oliver St. by members of the Regional Warrant Apprehension Task Force on warrants charging him as an adult with two counts of attempted murder. Haymond Burton of the 2500 block of E. Chase St. is accused of shooting Lewis Jefferson, 18, and Mark Smith, 25, in the 2600 block of E. Madison St. about 1 a.m. Sept. 13. Burton was being held at Central Booking and Intake Center.

Theft // A 13-inch TV, a DVD player and a briefcase were stolen Sunday from a 2000 International tractor parked in the 2200 block of N. Ellwood Ave.

Stolen vehicle // A four-door, champagne-colored 1999 Dodge Stratus with tags JLT 831 was stolen Sunday in the 1700 block of E. Chase St.

Stolen vehicle // Police were seeking a burgundy, four-door 1995 Buick LeSabre with tags LNM 327 that was stolen Sunday in the 700 block of N. Kenwood Ave.

Assault // Police responding to a report of an assault in a house in the 1200 block of E. Fort Ave. about 5:40 p.m. Sunday found a woman lying unconscious in a room. She was taken by ambulance to Maryland Shock Trauma Center for treatment and was expected to survive. An investigation found that the woman and a man, 40, were arguing when the man struck the woman in the head with a telephone. The man, whose name was not available, was charged with aggravated assault and was being held at Central Booking and Intake Center.

Theft // An in-dash stereo radio valued at $200 was stolen from a parked 1998 Chevrolet sedan between Wednesday and Saturday in the 300 block of S. Fremont Ave. by someone who entered by forcing open a vent window. The theft was reported Sunday.

Stolen vehicle // A black 2003 Nissan Frontier sport utility vehicle with tags 863M619 was stolen Sunday in the 1300 block of Warner St.

Assault // A 53-year-old man was reported in critical condition at Maryland Shock Trauma Center after another man beat him and kicked him in the head Sunday afternoon during an argument in the victim’s home in the 500 block of Vincent St. A 25-year-old man, whose name was not available, was arrested and charged with aggravated assault.

Robbery // A man armed with a handgun robbed a McDonald’s in the 3900 block of Falls Road of an undisclosed sum of money about 6:25 p.m. Sunday.

Baltimore County
White Marsh
Robbery // A deliveryman for a Pizza Hut outlet in the 4100 block of E. Joppa Road was in the first block of Waldmann Mill Court about 3 p.m. Sunday when he was assaulted by two men, one armed with a handgun, who robbed him of food and $23.

Burglary // A sump pump and an air conditioner were stolen from a vacant house in the 100 block of Walnut Ave. between Thursday and Sunday by someone who entered through a side basement window. They were valued at $450.

Robbery // Two boys, one 18 and the other 15, told police they were walking in the 3800 block of Lochearn Drive about 1 a.m. Sunday when a gunman forced them into a car and robbed them of their money and a cell phone.

Robbery // Police were seeking several male teenagers who attacked three 15-year-old boys at Owings Mill Mall about 10 p.m. Saturday and robbed one of them of a cell phone.

Burglary // Video games and their accessories – all valued at $400 – were stolen Sunday from an apartment in the 7100 block of Rolling Bend Road by someone who forced open the front door.

Robbery // A 16-year-old was walking in the 9600 block of Orpin Road about 12:30 p.m. Sunday when a male assailant armed with a knife robbed him of a cell phone valued at $100.

[Richard Irwin]

Man charged in robbery try
A Westminster man was arrested yesterday in connection with the attempted robbery of a woman outside Carroll Hospital Center on Nov. 7, state police said. Jarod Arthur Holtschneider, 25, of the 200 block of Sophia Ave. was taken before a Carroll County District Court commissioner and released after being charged with attempted robbery. State police are investigating whether other suspects might have been involved in the assault of the 62-year-old woman, who was attacked from behind by a man who tried to steal her purse as she fell outside the hospital’s emergency department. Anyone with information is asked to contact state police in Westminster at 410-386-3000.

Killer won’t get new prison classification
Benjamin Sifrit, serving 38 years for the 2002 killing of a Fairfax, Va., woman who was dismembered in an Ocean City condo, has lost a demand for corrections officials to redo his prison classification and pay him damages. Sifrit complained last year that the worksheet for his 2003 prisoner classification was improper, but corrections officials – in a decision upheld last week by Anne Arundel Circuit Judge Paul F. Harris Jr. – denied his claim because it was filed too late. Sifrit and his wife, Erika, were accused of luring a Virginia couple to a condo, then killing and dismembering them. Erika Sifrit is serving life plus 20 years for her role in both killings.

Appendix II


Most dangerous cities

1. Camden, N.J.

2. Detroit

3. St. Louis

4. Flint, Mich.

5. Richmond, Va.

6. Baltimore

7. Atlanta

8. New Orleans

9. Gary, Ind.

10. Birmingham, Ala.

Administrator — November 21, 2005, 4:55 pm

50′s Homo Thug Line

Speaking of bad shots, this is 50 in the new XXL. Magazines should send proofs to you before they go to print. Is it just me or does it look like 50 is D.L. rapper posterboy of the year. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not making any accusations (and not that it’s anything wrong with it) but this pic had me cracking up. Now I know what the G in G-unit stands for lol.

Appendix I

Administrator — November 16, 2005, 9:34 am

Scary J. Blige

I find this utterly hilarious:

Upon receiving her VLegend award at the Vibe Awards ceremony Mary J. Blige declared the following:

“For so many years, VIBE has given me great, great, great covers, but I must say, I’m very, very disappointed at the cover this time, so Mimi, me and you really need to talk, as women,” Blige said during her acceptance speech. “No disrespect, but I really hated the way you guys shaved off my head, pushed my forehead way back behind my ears. I’m just insulted, so that’s no respect on the cover, but I thank you, and I appreciate this award.”

To which Vibe Editor and Chief responded:

“Dissing VIBE while accepting our VLegend Award was extremely disappointing. I’m sorry you find your most recent cover insulting. It was definitely not our intention, If you look at the big picture, we’ve been supportive of your career beginning with the first issue of VIBE in the fall of ’92. You’ve graced our cover seven times, more than any other artist.
Besides your desire to make a private conversation public, your accusations are untrue. How your hair looks on that cover is between you and your hairstylist. I swear, your hairline is no different than the Polaroids you saw at the shoot or the snapshots we printed in my What’s Good column. In any case, you felt compelled to speak your peace, and at the end of the day, isn’t this truly why we all love Mary in the first place?
For myself and the rest of the edit staff, working here is more than just a job. We take our roles as journalists very seriously, but we’re die-hard fans as well,she said. I’d be lying not to admit how hurt we were by the negativity you brought to our celebration, especially since you were being honored.”

My personal contention is Scary J. Blige was never attractive and her only talent lies in remaking great songs. That’s my personal opinion.

Apendix I:

Lets not forget the infamous drunken potential cat fight with model Veronica Webb (who doesn’t look scary)

Administrator — November 15, 2005, 2:53 pm

Get Rich off My $9 Bucks

My take on the 50 movie. Hmm. If I were up under a rock and had no clue who 50 was I would find the movie entertaining. If I look at the movie from a “a rapper made this movie” perspective, I would say “great piece of work” in comparison to the b.s. we’ve been privy to, i.e. them No-Limit movies.

But, alas, I have not been under a rock for the last 10 years and I don’t grade on the “your crap is better than the other crap” scale and my vote is it was ok. Not bad, not good, far from horrible and far from great. Some folks have issues with 50′s acting– hell I think the man should know how to act like hiself.

My grievances? Mr. 50 said the auto-biographical movie was 75% accurate. I don’t want to spoil the movie for anyone but 75% of the movie was based on his interaction with a character named “Majestic” who we all know is a representation of real life crook Kenneth “Supreme” McGriff. So if this alleged 75% accurate movie is filled with 50′s interaction with Supreme– who he has never met– how accurate could it be?

The entire beef between Supreme and 50 is based on the fact that 50 was dropping his name on several tracks including “Ghetto Quran” and Supreme was like- “who is this cat dropping my name” and enlisted the help of Fredro Starr (Onyx) to find out who exactly 50 was. The movie however has them first as partners in crime then adversaries, etc. I don’t mind fiction but label it 75% fiction, not 75% authentic.

The movie did exemplify how wack his lyrics are and how when you hear the completed production (as i did on the car riding home) it masks that fact so much and you don’t realize that he is not saying a damn thing mumble or no mumble. I do give him credit for the “hit template”. He has a template and he changes one or two words and it’s a hit. e.g. change “magic stick” to “candy store” or “lollipop” or “best friend” or whatever, package it up and resell it. Must be something he learned from his drug dealing days.

Appendix I: Who Shot Ya?

With the release of the new book “Queens Reigns Supreme: Fat Cat, 50 Cent, and the Rise of the Hip-Hop Hustler” there has been some insight into who shot 50 and why. From my investigation I’ve surmounted the following facts:

50 was shot approximately 3 times by Darryl “Hommo” Baum possibly due to a robbery beef or possibly at the behest of Supreme

Mr. Baum was a former roommate of Mike “Iron Mike”Tyson and muscle for Murder Inc.

Mr. Baum was in cahoots with one Ivory “Peanut” Davis who was killed in retaliation for the murder of one Myron Hardy.

I didn’t catch his nick name

Hardy was the brother of one Damion “World” Hardy

The latter Mr. Hardy killed Mr. Baum along with pal Eric Moore because of his relationship with Mr. Davis

Didn’t get Moore’s nick name either

Mr. Hardy was the ex-boyfriend of one Lil “Ill Nana” Kim

50 dissed Lil Kim on records and on air

Damion Hardy was the one suspected at shooting at 50 once in Jersey

*sidenote* that’s some hood shit- you kill the man who shot the guy then shoot at the guy- what happened to the enemy of my enemy is my…*sidenote

The Hardy’s started a drug gang called CMB which stood for Cash Money Brothers in the Bed Stuy area of Brooklyn

How original

Mr. Hardy killed Mr. Baum’s brother Tyrone Baum just incase he had the inkling of avenging his brother’s death

Mr. Hardy now known as Isa Ibn Jabril (Jesus son of Gabriel) was arrested on his way back from Iraq and claims to be Jesus and wants to start a Jihad

I don’t make this shit up

Really– I don’t


Administrator — November 8, 2005, 6:07 pm

The Best Of One World

Yall heard the rumors now witness for yourself: Jay-Z and Nas together on the same stage.

[click here for video]

Administrator — , 10:09 am

How I Amuse Myself

Telemarketer: “sir, I’m calling to ask you to support the families of officers slain in the line of duty”

me: “not interested but is there any way you can connect me to the families of the people who slayed the officers? I think I got some extra cash lying around”

Administrator — November 7, 2005, 8:58 am

Keep it Real

Sacred ignorance
By Scoop Jackson

I used to love H.I.M.

He used to be my man 50 grand. The Revolverlutionary. The Phrenologist.

I used to hold him down to no end.

Triangle offense? Ride or die.

Phil Jackson was the one dude, despite all his flaws, who I publicly protected and defended. Said nothing when others would criticize him or find fault with him. “Damn you, Red Auerbach!!!”

I had to do that for him. I shared his last name.

Phil Jackson escaped criticism for his comments about hip-hop “prison garb and thuggery.”

But over the years something’s changed. Something’s flipped. The openness, the acceptability of individualness, the personal liberalness — all disappeared. It seemed that the minute Bill Clinton left office, Phil also left the building. Turned to the dark side, turned righteous, turned into Billy Graham, became … conservative.

Which is cool, because as long as he kept winning basketball games, as long as he kept the Lakers relevant, everything was golden, all good, irie.

Do or die, I had his back.

* * * * *

In October 1999, these words came out of his mouth:

“I don’t mean to say [that] as a snide remark toward a certain population in our society, but they have a limitation of their attention span, a lot of it probably due to too much rap music going in their ears and coming out their being.”’s NBA Preview
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OK. Let that one slide. Chalk it up as generational hate. Cultural Alzheimer’s.


In October 2005, these words came out of his mouth:

“I think it’s important that the players take their end of it, get out of the prison garb and the thuggery aspect of basketball that has come along with hip-hop music in the last seven or eight years.”

OK … the camel’s thoracic and lumbar vertebrae just went into trauma. Forget a broken back, this is spondylitis. A disease.

Now, I’m not calling Phil Jackson an Al Campanis, a Marge Schott or a Jimmy the Greek, but I will say for those comments he needs to meet the same fate.

At what point did Phil Jackson feel that it was his place to take derogatory and demoralizing shots at a culture and walk around as if we were too “illiterate” to understand the subliminal, covert messages behind his comments and beliefs?

Not necessarily being fired — something beyond that. At this point he should be placed in the same sports pantheon of bigots and frauds that have come along in this post-Adolf Hitler/Jesse Owens generation of athletics.

“Limitation of their attention span … due to too much rap music”? “Prison garb and thuggery … that has come along with hip-hop music”?

Forget calling the kettle black, let’s just call the hypocrite white.

Or should I say, hippie?

One who was a member of an anti-American culture that made marijuana mainstream, one that dressed in Woodstock and Vietnam garb.

But before we go there, let’s deal with the greater issue: the cultural and racial ignorance of Phil Jackson.

The first comment was made upon his first comeback. It came in a conversation with the media during training camp about the Lakers learning the intricacies of the triangle offense.

The second comment was made upon his second comeback. It came in a conversation with the media during training camp about his feelings toward the implementation of the NBA’s new dress-code policy.

Notice a pattern? Notice a recrudescence?

At what point does he feel it necessary to “blame” the ability to learn a complicated offense on music that some of his players might be listening to? At what point does he feel justified to “hold responsible” clothing that some of his players may wear on artists who create music in the videos some of his players might be watching?

At what point did Phil Jackson feel that it was his place to take derogatory and demoralizing shots at a culture and walk around as if we were too “illiterate” to understand the subliminal, covert messages behind his comments and beliefs?

At what point did he feel nothing would be said?

In the words of SNCC: I AM A MAN.

In the words of KRS-One: I AM HIP-HOP.

And just like any subculture inside of America — rock ‘n’ roll, grunge, heavy metal, country, bluegrass, electronica, reggae, merengue, punk, funk, rave, classical — that has been given birth through music, there are both good and bad sides. All open not only to judgment, but interpretation.

But when a Hall of Fame-bound, messiah-like respected coach who is a child of a subculture of imperfection feels that he needs to go out of his way to defame and slander another culture and its music while making an irrelevant point about music and basketball, someone has to Kanye West: Stand up!

To him. To his legacy.

Someone has to remind him of his past, remind him who we really are.

Someone has to expose him for what he really is: a b—- in sheep’s clothing.

* * * * *

Last I looked, I had on an oversized pair of Sean John jeans, an L-R-G white tee with a black L-R-G hoodie resting on my shoulders. AF1 LE’s that cost $300 on my feets. Every time I get dressed for work, this is what I wear. And every day I sit down to work I see that master’s degree with my name on it hanging on my office wall.

Last I looked, Lord Finesse’s “The Awakening,” Scarface’s “The Fix,” TI’s “Urban Legend,” Lil’ Kim’s “Naked Truth,” Ghostface Killah’s “Supreme Clientele,” and Eric B. and Rakim’s “Let the Rhythm Hit ‘Em,” were the six CDs in the chamber. Last I looked, I could retain information, hadn’t missed a deadline, haven’t been fired from a job, haven’t been unemployed or unemployable, haven’t been mistaken for a thug or bank robber, haven’t been accused of a crime, haven’t sold out or sold my soul, and last week was able to get a point about self-esteem across to an auditorium full of kids at a college that made them cry.

I recited Nas and Tupac lyrics. My jeans were hanging off my ass .

They asked me to come back.

Would you rather us be like Karl Rove or Tom DeLay or Lewis Libby, Phil? Would you rather your Lakers players and the rest of the ballers in the NBA present themselves more like Enron’s Kenneth Lay or Jeff Skilling? Arthur Andersen’s Joe Berardino? Tyco’s Dennis Kozlowski? WorldCom’s Bernie Ebbers?

Last I looked, someone from hip-hop’s culture, Kanye West, made the cover of Time and was taking political stands through conscious statements about President Bush’s handling of Hurricane Katrina. Last I looked, someone from hip-hop’s culture, Jay-Z, had a feature story in Fortune about his success as a CEO and was GQ’s Man of The Year in Britain. Last I looked, Vanity Fair did an issue portfolio on members of our culture — Outkast, Missy, Common, Nas, Nelly, Eve, Ice Cube, The Beastie’s, Kool Herc, etc. — 38 pages, two pairs of jeans (one Dolce and Gabbana, the other Rocawear), three diamond necklaces, zero do-rags, Timberlands or guns.

Last I looked, two cats from hip-hop’s culture, Russell Simmons and Sean Combs, created national voter-registration drives that eclipsed anything the Democratic Party has been able to do in the last 10 years. Last I looked, individuals from our culture were headlining movies and being nominated for Academy Awards (Will Smith, Queen Latifah, Ice Cube), having No.1 shows on television (Chris Rock), having art exhibits in New York, Los Angeles and London (Jean-Michel Basquiat), having plays on Broadway (Mos Def, Simmons), having best-selling books (Kevin Liles) and iPod commercials (Eminem).

The last time I looked, we — being in and of the hip-hop culture — were responsible for generating $1.5 billion annually for corporate companies, making what we do and who we are one of the top corporate financial entities in America. Last I looked, Cingular Wireless (which just posted a 56 percent third-quarter profit increase) and Target and Nike and Viacom and Disney were trying to “incorporate” us into their marketing and brand-building plans. Last I looked, Suze Orman was a keynote speaker at the Hip-Hop Summit of Financial Empowerment. But yet, we’re thugs who dress like prisoners who make music that diminishes our ability to learn?

Yes, some of us are products of that; but that doesn’t define us. And neither will you, Phil Jackson.

Hip-hop, just like all other musical heritages, is not monolithic in process, behavior or mentality. Never has been, never will. But we are reactionary.

So like Erick Sermon, I react.

Would you rather us be like Karl Rove or Tom DeLay or Lewis Libby, Phil? Would you rather your Lakers players and the rest of the ballers in the NBA present themselves more like Enron’s Kenneth Lay or Jeff Skilling? Arthur Andersen’s Joe Berardino? Tyco’s Dennis Kozlowski? WorldCom’s Bernie Ebbers?

Maybe you’d rather them dress like Catholic priests.

Define prison garb, yo.

Or maybe in your next comment about “us” will you single out Lil’ Kim, use her as an example of the jail mentality that comes with hip-hop’s influence, but conveniently fail to mention Martha Stewart?

Or maybe you’ll remember to mention that most of the “thuggery” clothes we buy (especially those worn by NBA players) come from Neiman’s, Macy’s and Saks, where entire floors are devoted to our fashion and designers. Does that irritate you, Phil? Make you wish that these upscale department chains wouldn’t carry such urban outfits? If so, why not scream them out too?

Clothing not cool for your players to rock, but OK for Fortune 500 stores to sell?

Now, I’d be ignorant to sit up here and write that elements of a gangsta’s culture or a thug’s way of life hasn’t seeped into how we live, but so has the Mob’s — but I didn’t hear you blast “The Sopranos” or Mario Puzo the way you did us.

Is this personal? No. Did I take it that way? Yes.

Because if black America is going to get on Bill Cosby for the blanket statements he made about a “certain segment” of our society, then hip-hop culture cannot let Phil Jackson get away untouched.

Just because we understand what you are saying Phil, as Chris Bridges as it is, it doesn’t give you the right to say it.

Especially when your comments are no longer an isolated incident.

On this opening day of the 2005-06 NBA season, Phil Jackson will represent the hypocrisy of manhood in America. A man who has a brilliant mind for basketball and winning but no compassion or comprehension for how to deal with people outside of his imaginary picket-fence circle.

* * * * *

What type of music does a married man listen to when he is publicly involved with another woman?

Is Yanni music for adulterers?

What type of clothes does a man wear when he tricks out on one of his players? Writes a dehumanizing book about his team and comes back like everything is cool? What type of clothes make that man?

What type of clothes and music does a man wear and listen to as he watches a player redirect his life out of loyalty to him, only to backstab that player one year later by returning to the crime scene for $30 million?

What type of music and clothes does a man listen to and wear after he has given one of his African-American superstars one of these two books to read: “Black Like Me” or “The White Man’s Shuffle.”

What type of “being” comes from an original American counterculture, openly indulges in illegal drugs and activities, is a card-carrying member of the anti-establishment, then not only flips and embraces Buddhism, Native American culture and Zen philosophy, but also flips and finds fault in a similar culture 30 years removed from the one he was once part of?

“For Phil Jackson to come out and say what he said demonstrates the level of contempt he has for certain types of players in the league,” says Dr. Todd Boyd of the University of Southern California’s Department of Critical Studies and author of “The New HNIC: The Death of Civil Rights and the Reign of Hip Hop.” “He is very hesitant to embrace certain black ballplayers with certain backgrounds. And for him to make those comments about hip-hop culture when he has no true knowledge of the culture whatsoever basically exposes him for what he seems to represent.”

And that is no longer a coaching god with nine rings who has come back to save one of the most loved and respected franchises in professional sports.

On this opening day of the 2005-06 NBA season, Phil Jackson will represent the hypocrisy of manhood in America. A man who has a brilliant mind for basketball and winning but no compassion or comprehension for how to deal with people outside of his imaginary picket-fence circle. A man who in the last six years has shown his true color about how he views a certain fragment of America’s society that happens to be the color he’s not.

A man who has lost more than love; he’s lost all my respect.

For many, the comments he made amount to nothing. Many of you will read this and feel that I went overboard on Phil; that he’s an icon and I can’t say what I said about him; that he’s above me and I’m beneath him in the culture of basketball; that I took his words the wrong way.

To me, there’s no other way to take them.

There are no lines to read between, the comments are scripture.

Spit all feels the same when it runs down your face.

Phil Jackson spit on an entire culture — twice — and got away with it. Never got called on it, never got called out. He just went on his upper-ruling class way and watched the world worship the “sacred” ground he walked on.

I know how he feels about the art we create and how we present ourselves; I know he feels we are less intelligent because of the music we listen to and give birth to; that we are predestined to prison or thug life because of the way we dress.

I know now how he feels about people like me … and how he feels about the culture 80 percent of the league he coaches in comes from.

He just doesn’t know how I feel about him.

Now he does.

Scoop Jackson is an award-winning journalist who has covered sports and culture for more than 15 years. He is a former editor of Slam, XXL, Hoop and Inside Stuff magazines and the author of “Battlegrounds: America’s Street Poets Called Ballers” and “LeBron James: the Chambers of Fear.” He resides in Chicago with his wife and two kids.

Appendix I

At first, being a person who adheres to a dress code for work, I was indifferent on the decision, now I am ademant and disagree on so many levels. Me, I chose my profession– with that comes the khakis and the loafers. They chose to be basketball players, not business execs. I know the NBA is a hard forum to get into, but some believe it or not aspire to get into the league so they can make money and not adhere to society’s standards. It has nothing to do with hip hop or “thug wear”, Tim Duncan the mildest mannered of the lot said “I don’t even own a suit”.

As far as society’s standards that alone pisses me off. Now don’t think of this as no angry black male backlash, but let’s call a spade a spade: this is just another case of white males excercising their right to dictate what everyone should adhere to– what they deem right. The dress code not only addressed attire, it addressed jewelry too, that’s what many of you overlook when debating the matter. That means no gold chains or diamond earings as well. Now I’m playing devil’s advocate hear, because you will never catch me in a jersey, or with any jewelry on, but I figure if you dribble a ball for a living– you have the right to dress like you dribble a frigging ball for a living.

Why does it have to be the white American cloth of choice athletes are deemed to be cut from? So if Yao Ming is injured can he come in a cool karate suit thingy? Can Mutumbo sport a lion’s mane? Can we have dashiki’s, long Islamic garb, any Brits in the league– cna they wear wigs?

I know you hear it in plenty a hip hop track, when my boy reached success as VP of And 1, and was label bouncing producing and managing, and I was reading about him in all the hip hop mags, I asked him how his success felt, how’s X, what’s it like hanging with Kevin Garnet and how much the spinny things on the Range cost? The most gratifying thing to him as he responded was “Tif, I can get in clubs anywhere like this”. He can, he chose to do hip hop for a living. Russell Simmons was always prodded for never wearing suits to meetings with industry heavies– and this was when he was just Rush– not the Def Jam mogul we now know.

The point is I think everyone should dress as they choose. I don’t neccessarily condone dressing down, but if that’s how you feel–do you. Sometimes I will go to clubs in jeans a t-shirt a pair of Reeboks and a baseball cap and get in because the owner or bouncer knows me. Everyone is all jiggy fly but maybe I just came their on business or just for a drink. That’s how I chose to dress that day, and I earned the right to dress that way. I think the NBA should of placed a suggestion rather than a code: “please dress like your average corparate American white man when injured”.

I think people hold athletes accountable for too much– they probably couldn’t get fortune 500 jobs–that’s why they are athletes, like Charles Barkley said “I am not a role model”. Like Richard prior said “The heavyweight champion of the world don’t have to be an eptymologist– what do you do for a living Leon[Spinks]?” Leon: “I knock muthafuckas out”. That’s it. I think boxing should be the forum where all of sports base their protocol– think of the Don King hair do, the Mike Tyson towel, the loin cloths, the flags, and if you’re an old head boxing fan like me, you remember promoter Butch Lewis who wore tuxedos with no shirts. That’s right a tux, a bowtie and a cummerbun(sp) with no fricking shirt– that’s gangsta. That’s sports.

Apendix II

Promoter Butch lewis

Administrator — November 4, 2005, 10:12 am

Customer Service

OK, I’m a complainer. Not one of them nit-picky complainers but I’m a person that believes McDonald’s should never tell you “we’re out of fries” and things of that nature are just not acceptable. I’m also big on customer service. You show me good customer service and I won’t even notice whatever you’re serving me is bad. So with moving a lot of things basically get effed up. And the complex we moved to is great with customer service, it’s just the majors that are stabbing me with pin needles daily.


First thing Verizon tells me my dsl won’t be available for a month– An entire month. It’s not life threatening as we have several back ups having an office and all but a month– and they wanted to charge me $45 for relocation? So you inconvenience me for a month– not only inconvenience me– I run a home based business– you basically want to shut my pockets off for a month– and charge me $45? Let me speak to a manager. That’s me–If you can’t do what I asked– I want to speak to somebody that can. Fuck it find me James Earl Jones– he gotta have some pull around there, plus the bastard was the one that called me and told me my friggin service was ready: [deep voice] “Hello, this is Verizon calling telling you that your dsl service is now available”. As of this blog post time it’s not. I’m going to call and scream at everyone possible until I get service. We have free wireless but I can’t run a secure network via someone’s wireless and of course there’s the porn issue. Anyways, I call and scream at customer service reps so much that Sprint PCS told me “sir can you please just change providers”.


Comcast. These fuckers are worst than anyone on the planet besides the post office. You wanna see some flippant mofos go down to the post office– that’s an entire blog in itself so let me not digress. So Comcast not only raises their prices dramatically- quarterly–(they raised our bill $20 a month and gave us baseball tickets–fuckin baseball tix???) they have technicians who graduated from them schools you see advertised between old reruns of the ‘A-team. It’s like the folks that work for Comcast were offered a training program for successfully completing their G.E.D. As an aside, I once knew a woman that complained so much to Comcast she got a white man to come look at her shit. She got a white man to come out– she surely has me beat.

So our Comcast was snowy and we call and complain. Me being a cable “borrower” most my life knew exactly what the problem was. My honey wants to call, I don’t– so they can sit there and make you look like a shithead for an hour making you turn your TV on and off and unplugging your box and shit– but I wasn’t having it. So I look around on our floor and see some loose wires and head to the front desk. I ask them was Comcast around today, she says she doesn’t know she just started her shift, so I ask the building tech– another guy I had to straighten out: “what do you mean we can’t run our own wireless network in the building?”– and he says yeah they were there working on the building’s main feed because people were having problems. The main feed? For all Comcast dickheads reading and those about to complete a G.E.D. course–it’s not the main feed if the entire building isn’t having problems! So now, alas the entire friggin building is having problems. So my honey calls Comcast who says they won’t be able to look at it until November 20th. It’s the fuckin 4th of November. Meanwhile it’s two fucking trucks parked outside our building. One has one of them shits attached where the guy can elevate himself 30 feet or so. So someone was ordering new cable, and a really nice Comcast guy was installing it when he realizes the problem and came and knocked on our door and said somebody would be working on it because he doesn’t fuck with the main feed! Great guy. Our cable has returned.

Hot Water

Hot water. One thing I like is to almost be burned to death in the shower. When I used to apartment hunt I used to turn the shower on and see how hot it gets while the landlord sat there and looked at me like I was crazy. I didn’t at the new place because like a chick with a big butt and a smile, I was in love before I actually knew the place had a shower. When I lived in New York maintenance had to put the shower handle on upside down for me because we shared the water heater with other tenants who wanted to maintain their skin. So in the new place the water was hot, but not like I like it so I called the building and asked them to change the setting for me. Now some of you may say “look you non laboring bastard turn the knob on the water heater”- but no, you need Nicholas Cage and a map on the back of the Declaration of Independence to get to the knob on our hot water heater- and you need to remove a few doors (see below). So they come in and remove the doors and change the setting. Still not enough. We call back they change it again– nada. So I come home one day and my house looks like a construction site. They totally replaced the heater. Thanks! Great customer service! But still not hot enough. I wanted to test the upstairs shower but didn’t get a chance to. Now for the record me and the missus shower separately on weekdays, I need that extra 15 minutes of sleep, so she has used a good portion of the hot water prior to my shower entry.

So I’m in the shower this morning and it’s hot but not hot enough. I’m heated (well not literally). So I turn the knob and hold it at it’s furthest point and it gets hotter. Hmm I’m on to something here. So I put more pressure on it and it snaps, boiling water comes down on my back, I scream my honey comes running I turn the knob further–ooooooo-comfort. Problem solved. Just like New York turning the knob upside down allows me to access the hot-hot water. A brand new hot water heater and a few hundred dollars in man hours later– I am satisfied. Who needs customer service?

Apendix I

Redoing my cable– why? It’s the main feed idiots.

Apendix II

Replacing my hot water heater

Administrator — November 1, 2005, 11:38 am

Slavery in New York

Forgotten Slaves
UM Professor Ira Berlin has helped the New York City’s historical society tell a story that challenges conventional wisdom about slavery in America.
By Michael Hill
Sun reporter
Originally published October 30, 2005
When Ira Berlin was growing up in the Bronx, he knew Van Cortlandt Park as a leafy attraction of that northern borough of New York City.

“What I didn’t know was that it was probably once Van Cortlandt plantation and that there were slaves living and working there,” says Berlin, a professor of history at the University of Maryland, College Park.

“There are probably many things I don’t remember that I was taught in New York’s public schools, but I very much doubt that was part of the curriculum,” he says.

Berlin, 64, is trying to change that. For decades he has researched parts of slavery’s history that were often overlooked. Now he has helped organize the exhibit Slavery in New York that opened at the New York Historical Society this month, telling the surprising tale of the vital importance of slaves in the history of the country’s most important city.

“Probably the most exciting thing for me about this exhibit is that we are taking all the new scholarship on slavery and making it available to a larger audience,” Berlin says of the well-received exhibit that will be at the society’s building on Central Park West until March 5. “Very few people walk out of that exhibit not saying, ‘This makes me think differently about this city.’”

Berlin, who also co-edited the exhibit’s catalog with Leslie Harris of Emory University, is considered one of the nation’s pre-eminent scholars of slavery. In 1999, he published the groundbreaking Many Thousands Gone, which looked at pre-19th-century slavery in the Americas, showing that the institution varied as the millions of Africans who came to the New World negotiated their way through its brutal, controlling mechanisms.

Berlin received his doctorate from the University of Wisconsin in 1970. His first book, Slaves Without Masters: The Free Negro in the Antebellum South, was published in 1975, the year he arrived at Maryland. He founded and directed the Freedmen and Southern Society Project, which published many volumes based on the papers of the federal government’s Freedmen Bureau, which oversaw the concerns of freed slaves in the years after the Civil War.

Did you learn anything surprising about slavery in your hometown while working on this exhibit and catalog?

I knew quite a bit, or thought I did, but I learned quite a bit as well. It turns out there are three big stories here. This exhibit actually covers one of them. A second exhibit will cover the other two.

The first story is of the institution itself, which turns out to be much more significant than most people can imagine. New York City in the 17th and 18th centuries was the largest slave-holding city on the North American continent. There were more slaves in New York than in Charleston or New Orleans. Slaves made up a quarter of New York’s population at various times, and probably a third or more of its workforce. Probably nothing moved in or out of New York without a slave touching it at one time or another. The institution is really quite significant in any understanding of the history of New York.

Then the institution dies this lingering, glacially slow death, in a sense. You finally have emancipation in 1799. New York is the next-to-last Northern state to emancipate slaves; only New Jersey takes longer. But when it was announced that slaves were free on, of course, July 4, 1799, nobody was actually free. It was people who were born after that date who would be free. And they would not be free until they came into their age of majority, which was generously defined as 25 for men and 28 for women.

So the death of the institution of slavery in New York stretched out, and would probably have stretched out past 1860, and on past the Emancipation Proclamation and the 13th Amendment, if the legislature hadn’t finally called a halt to it in 1827, some 50 years after the Declaration of Independence. The institution had great staying power. There were over 10,000 slaves in New York in the third decade of the 19th century. The institution would not have gone away without considerable effort by both blacks themselves and their white abolitionist allies.

That’s the number one story.

The second one is that after people thought they had put a stake in the heart of slavery, it actually becomes more important in New York because the city becomes the center of the cotton trade. The economy of New York comes to revolve around cotton. New York bankers fund the expansion of slavery in the South. New York manufacturers are making shoes for slaves. The New York textile industry gets its start making cheap clothes for slaves.

Since we know politics follows economics, it is not surprising that New York politicians are much beholden to their Southern counterparts and eager to defend the institution of slavery. When the South started seceding in 1860, the mayor of New York says he wants to secede along with it. New York politicians were great opponents of Lincoln and his emancipatory policies.

And since culture follows politics, you see in the antebellum years the great Southern planters coming to New York, meeting their bankers and brokers, being wined and dined, as you would your best customers. Their kids meet, they intermarry, and these great New York merchant families become intertwined with Southern plantation families. During this time, New York is also an important site of the movement against slavery. Black and white New York played a large role in abolition.

Once the Civil War ends New York’s connection with slavery, then you have a third story, of these refugees from the South, black and white, coming up to the city, former planters and former slaves, both of whom have a profound effect on the development of New York City. The slaveholders promote this sectional reconciliation view, the dewy-eyed view of the Old South, the lost cause, that becomes very prominent on the New York stage, in magazines published in New York and in its politics. The former slaves migrate to the city, bringing their experience and memory of slavery, that very much affects the small black community that existed in New York.

It’s a big and complicated story. I learned a good deal about it just doing this exhibit.

Was there any discovery you made that was particularly exciting?

One was that the area around Washington Square was once called “The Land of the Blacks.” What happened was that the Dutch in New Amsterdam were suffering from raids by Indians who lived in the northern hills of Manhattan island. So they began to free slaves and give them land to try to create a little buffer zone. To learn that former slaves, free blacks, owned 12 acres of land in what is now midtown Manhattan – finding those records, I have to say, it makes you think differently about the city. When people talk about Fort Apache, the Bronx, you have a new appreciation of the connections between Native Americans, Africans and Europeans in New York’s past.

Then there was an interesting finding about two major slave rebellions in New York, one in 1712 and one in 1741, the first a group of newly arrived Africans who got together and killed a couple dozen people in an effort to gain their freedom. The other was much more complex, organized out of a tavern run by an Irish tavern-keeper. Several white people were hung along with the black rebels. For the English administrators, this was a very frightening event.

And there was the Revolutionary War experience, when the British made their headquarters in New York and this large group of black people from all over the continent who had taken refuge behind British lines begin to filter into the city, hoping to get out of the country, which many of them do. Most blacks fought on the side of the British because the British offered freedom for military service first and more consistently than the patriots, who were extraordinarily reluctant to make that exchange – and when they did, they were generally a day late and a dollar short.

Another wonderful story was this school founded in the late 18th century, the Free African School, that creates this incredible cohort of black leaders, men and women who were at the forefront of the city’s black community, who all came out of that school. And the African Grove Theater, the mother of African-American theater. Of course, the first show it put on was Shakespeare’s Richard II.

Did slavery in New York have all the trappings that are associated with slavery in the South? For instance, did the slave ships making the Middle Passage pull into New York Harbor?

Definitely. In fact, when the English take over the city from the Dutch, there was a ship filled with African slaves sitting there in the harbor. One thing that we know was that those slaves were part of the problem Peter Stuyvesant had in defending the city against the English invasion, because the city was running low on supplies and was having trouble feeding both those slaves and the city’s defenders.

New York had slave auctions and slave whipping posts and slave rebellions. Everything we connect with slavery in the South was there. New York slavery was an extremely violent institution. It couldn’t exist in New York any more than it could exist anywhere else without slaveholders having a monopoly on violence and using it in ways we find unconscionable. It is an institution that constrains people, that warps their lives, that divides husbands and wives, parents and children. All of the kind of nightmares connected with slavery were very much a part of the black experience in New York.

But the other part is there, too. In New York, as in other places, on very narrow grounds, slaves created their own lives in very difficult circumstances. They created families, churches and schools, a new language, music, religion and the like. It is much the same kind of story you find with slavery elsewhere, in Maryland and South Carolina, Alabama and Mississippi. It’s the same, but it’s different because the circumstances were different, the slaveholders were different, the slaves were different and the geography was different.

How was it different?

Some of the slaves had much more freedom because they were “living out.” The houses of white New Yorkers were so small, slaveholders first began stuffing folks away in the attic and basement, and then found it easier to give the slave a little money and let him find a place to live. Slaves were happy to take the offer, which gave them much more freedom of movement, a greater chance of getting together for whatever purposes: religious, recreational, educational, conspiratorial.

Slavery takes on the characteristics of its environment. It is different in different places. It is different in New York than it is out in Brooklyn. Different in Queens than it is on Long Island. Urban slavery is a very different kind of institution. In cities, you need a different system of social control that does, in fact, give blacks a bit more elbow room than they have on the plantations.

Why did slavery hang on longer in the South than it did in the North?

It was much more profitable in the South. Plantation agriculture made much more use of slave labor, but with the kind of agriculture that developed in the North, grain agriculture, you had to find other uses for slaves once you were out of the periods of heaviest use, planting and harvest. It made it a much more complicated system.

By the time of the American Revolution, there was a commitment to a different kind of labor system – wage labor – and there was a competition between that and slave labor. Northerners were finding that the system of wage labor, which often could be extremely exploitative, was much more profitable than slave labor. Then, the Revolutionary ideas of equality began pushing on slavery, and there were the objections of black people themselves.

One of the things that happens in the 1790s, in the years prior to emancipation, was a series of fires in New York, which, like all cities in those days, was full of wooden buildings, which made fires a very fearsome occurrence. The source of those fires was never definitively figured out, but I think everybody believed they were set by slaves. That’s one of the things that frightened white New Yorkers enough to surrender their commitment to slavery, though they did it reluctantly and very slowly.

Why did you make slavery the central focus of your academic research?

When I was in graduate school in the 1960s, for many people involved in the issues of those days, the civil rights movement, there was always a desire to make your work consonant with your politics. I guess that’s where my own interest first came from. Probably we all thought that once we’ve figured this all out, this business of race, once we’ve learned something about slavery and its origins, its connection to race, well, we could all go home early that night. The problem would be solved. We were extremely naive.

Slavery is such a dauntingly complicated subject. Once you begin to learn about it, you just want to learn more. It’s like one of those sweaters – you pull on one thread and the whole thing starts unraveling. That’s what has made the story of slavery so interesting to me; the subject has continued to broaden in terms of understanding and connections.

When I was in graduate school, the only reason people were interested in slavery was because some people said it had something to do with the Civil War. No one was interested in slavery beyond that, whether it was slavery in this country in the 18th century, slavery in the North, slavery in the larger Atlantic world, connections between Africans and Native Americans and Europeans in the colonizing process. Except for black scholars, no one was interested in the effects of slavery on people of African descent. And that has been the most exciting thing, to see the questions grow, to see how it has made us think differently about American history and about the history of the world, for that matter.

Do you think the country is beginning to come to terms with its slavery past?

There is enormous popular interest in the subject now. This exhibit is one small part of that. You see it in other places. Every major museum, it seems, has had an exhibition on slavery. There are entire museums of slavery being planned. There is the Underground Railroad Museum in Cincinnati. There’s the new African-American museum in Baltimore, and the museum planned for the Mall in Washington. You see it in the movies – Glory, Amistad, Beloved. You see it on TV. You see the way it has become part of politics, two presidents who have seen fit to go the coast of Africa, to the slave factory in Goree, and look out that door of no return. You see it in debates about apologies, and the whole question of reparations lurking back there all the time.

All this speaks to a real desire to try to come to terms with slavery, and that, of course, speaks to a desire to come to terms with race. It is not an easy process. Nobody knows exactly how to do it. We – both blacks and whites – don’t often do it very well or elegantly. We are often tripping over our ideological shoelaces as we try. People are afraid. I see this in my students, white and black, who are afraid to misspeak, to embarrass themselves or somebody else. But they do want to come to terms with it. That’s why this exhibit is there and why it is attracting such attention.

Do you think an exhibit like this can have an effect?

I have been up to the exhibit a couple of times, and everybody who walks in and sees it walks out saying, “I didn’t know that. Why wasn’t I told this? Why didn’t we learn it?” It’s an additive thing, one more thing that people know, that forces them to think differently about the entirety of New York history, about the entirety of American history.

For most people, slavery was a Southern institution; our racial problems were probably the products of something that existed in the South, not in the North. This is one of the things this exhibit is producing, forcing people to begin to make those adjustments, to think again about things they thought they knew.

Administrator — October 31, 2005, 12:55 pm

The Big ‘H’

This is the infamous heroin lean. I woulda got more pics but this guy kept popping to attention. I remember this lean well from the early 70′s growing up in Philadelphia, and I would ask my grandmother why people were leaning like that and my only answer was “drugs, baby”. So I really couldn’t figure out how the green stuff that my uncles smoked in the lil manilla envelopes could make someone lean, because at the time that’s all I knew of drugs. But it was evident post Vietnam that heroin was the drug of choice for inner city black folk. So it wasn’t unusual to see someone bent over like this or further with their nose grazing the ground, and I’ve learned as many of you have, this person will never ever fall. I recall tourists at the Inner harbor gasping as an addict leans over seemingly about to fall in the river and I just laugh because I know they won’t fall. It may be impossible, I’ve seen several amazing almost fall routines–yet never a fall. This is something Hopkins should study when they have all those heroin users that they solicit in the back of the local free rags, they should do a study on “gravitational pull and physics laws defiance of the average heroin abuser”.

So until “Just Say No” which wasn’t until the 80′s when that evil monster crack that ran through the Black community like Katrina– crack hit the scene and pretty much stepped all over the heroin– pardon the pun. Heroin was king and was steadfastingly be overcome by crack addiction. This however did not occur everywhere, heroin use usually curtails it’s usage to certain areas of certain cities South Philly for example– shooting galleries were no longer the norm as they once were, now it was crack houses. Now I mentioned marijuana earlier and even though I don’t partake, I condone the legalization of the “drug” and really don’t see it as a drug so it will not be mentioned again in this discussion.

So I move to the city I love– Baltimore circa 1996. And within the first week I saw this infamous lean. I said to myself “sweet fancy Moses -it can’t be?” and my uncle assured me– yes heroin never left Baltimore. I called my mom back home in Philly and told her that “there were people bent over everywhere and I visited this place called Lexington Market and even I bent over as to not let them know I wasn’t one of them”. The second thing I noticed was there was a lot of really young affluent business men, who I assumed were pharmaceutical salesman. This puzzled me being from Philly and seeing the onsought of crack first hand, and business wise-crack’s heyday was the first 10 years of it’s existence when every neighborhood had it’s one to three drug dealers who made all the money and drove fancy cars. That era ended in the 90′s as by then everybody and they momma was a crack dealer. I recall there being 15 people on our one corner, 5-10 people on an opposing corner across the street and two houses with 10-20 people in them directly adjacent to these two corners. So on our corner alone you averaged at least $1000 a day in the mid 90′s– multiply that by 15 and that’s 15K a night from the one corner, a small underexaggerated number, but once that was one man’s take a day. There in lies the rub. So in Baltimore every assumed young dealer seemed to have tons of cash, a feat only someone of age and status could incur in my neighborhood, but what I would later learn is it was directly related to the poison the dealers were pushing– heroin. Heroin addicts “need” the drug, they “must” have or they suffer from withdrawal. Although crack is highly addictive, crack heads don’t have the motivation that heroin addicts have to obtain the drug. Crack heads “want” drugs, heroin addicts “need” the drug. Reason numero uno why heroin is a better commodity than crack.

Reason #2: heroin addicts can hold a job. Heroin addicts can and will work. Sure a crack head with take out your trash for a buck, but a day later they’re taking out your VCR. A heroin addict will go to work, come home get high, wash a few cars, paint the Cystine Chapel for 20 bucks, go to sleep and get up and go back to work. It might be months before their boss notices a nod and replaces them. I once worked for Greyhound as a customer service rep and my manager, the lady responsible for hiring and firing folks, would nod off so bad that customers would grab the keyboard and finish entering their travel reservations during her standing naps. She still maintained a residence and an income. As a crack dealer you have to wait for a crack head to devise some really stupid plan that takes four hours for them to come up with 5 bucks. So that inevitably ends them up in jail and that severely cuts your customer base because once they exit prison some stay off crack for years.

Reason #3: young people do it. You’re not gonna find eight 16 year old crack heads in one neighborhood, I don’t care where you go. Crack is done by the old and down trodden, the “I used to be someones” the “I could of been a millionaire”. Kids are toking heroin at young ages and even the dealers start snorting often. Most of these generally graduate to the needle and from there it’s a steady snowball down hill. With young people increasingly doing heroin, your customer base is steadily increasing along with your cash flow.

Now let’s fast forward to 2005 and look at different uses of drugs by different people. Heroin is still king in cities like Boston and Baltimore, yet crack remains supreme in cities like New York and Philadelphia, and also in southern cities. Heroin seems to be more prevalent in Hispanic communities. Poor white communities although mingling with most drugs, the new crack to them is crystal meth which is tearing through poor white community like crack did the Black community. I find it ironic that cocaine a once Hollywood and Wall street drug in powder form seems to be the choice of drugs in the gay white community and also for those in the food service industry. It has also been reported that crystal meth is growing in the gay community as well.

The lesson here boys and girls is drugs are bad and if you do them, namingly heroin, you may fail, but you will not fall.

Administrator — October 27, 2005, 9:54 am

Up in Smoke

One of my many vices is a good smoke. Contrary to popular belief I have never smoked marijuana in my life. I have no gripes about it, I support those who smoke it and who want to appeal the laws, etc.–I just don’t smoke it– I have enough monkeys on my back and a new one will be the “straw”. A good documentary to check out on marijuana and why marijuana is illegal is Grass.
The long and short of it is some Mexican got high and committed a crime so the powers that be, you know who they are, the people that say NBA players can’t wear jewelry, said “no more weed”.

Anyways, I smoke bidis. For all those unaware bidis are Indian cigarettes. Not Indian as in “I’m a white man I think this is India so yall are fucking Indians”–Indian, but real life Patel, dot head, no eating meat because it might be their cousin–Indians. *note* terrible un-politically correct blog *note* So I’ve been smoking these things since ’92. That’s 13 years, so that may give you an inkling of why I never have smoked weed– I’m one of them folks with an addictive personality– I like something I will indulge to the fullest.

So a simple Google search on bidis will give you a highly biased view on bidis. I actually did a search on bidis and a search on heroin, and the first page results on heroin wasn’t as negative as the results on bidis. I honestly think it’s all propaganda. Being an asthmatic, smoking should be the least of my hobbies, but I enjoy a good bidi, and I still can run a mile– maybe. The following is another highly biased description of a bidi FYI.

For centuries now, the bidi, cheaply made from inferior ingredients, has been the cigarette of choice for those in poverty in India. Called “the poor man’s cigarette,” the bidi is made from the flakes and dust of dark tobacco leaves. Strong flavoring, such as vanilla, licorice, strawberry, cinnamon, or clove, is added to mask the poor quality of the tobacco. This concoction is then hand-rolled in a green or brown leaf by impoverished laborers in oppressive “factories.” The unfiltered final product is a small, slim cigarette, tied at both ends with a colorful thread

First off the anti-bidi campaign came from America’s bread and butter companies– the tobacco industry who panicked when they realized kids were smoking INDIAN TOBACCO! Can’t have that. So push your local politician, they investigate and boom– temporary ban. Reasoning– child labor, the kids were rolling the bidis in India. *note* terrible un-politically correct blog *note* Now I don’t condone child labor

(please skip if you want to keep on pace with the original blog)

So I’m in a bar some years ago and I spark a bidi. The woman next to me yells “you smoke those, little kids slave to make them in India!” Working for an accounting firm I have witnessed via photo and file the working conditions of men women and children living in “dorms” who make sneakers (what some call tennis shoes), namingly the brand she had on her feet. So I say “what about the kids that made these” and tapped her shoe. Big mistake. This was my introduction to my very “diverse” neighborhood. Her girlfriend, and I mean girlfriend in every since of the word, arose from the bar stool next to her, made her “girlfriend” get up threw the bar stool she was sitting in and yells “you did not just touch her” and raises her fist in combat mode. So my immediate reaction –having been in– no exaggeration over 100 fights in my life– threw up my hands and was full intent on knocking the block of my agitator. What later occurred was a mental mixup, my hands wanted to dance across the agitators face but my mind said “dude that’s a woman!”. My hands and mind melt into mental confusion, she could of beat on me until I came to my senses, but luckily she didn’t. What saved me was a newscast special break through which stated that a local serial killer had been killed by ATF.

but if you’ve done any investigation like I have, bidis are the biggest export and commodity of India. So if a child is helping its family eat– so be it. I know several kids who support their families, maybe through illicit activities but room and board is room and board. Not only did the kids roll the bidi cigarettes, but they rolled them helluva well. I mean in the glory days of bidis they were $1 for 25 and they flowed like the Nile. So the American government imposes a band because of the child labor and the bidi production goes to the adults- whose big fingers weren’t quite adequate for bidi rolling. So the quality lowered and most bidis eventually sucked. USA-1 Bidi-0.

So some bidi manufacturers met with USA standards for imports and once again bidis were prevalent in most states. Plan ‘B’ came into effect: like stated above bidis were bad mouthed stating smoking one bidi is worst than smoking an entire pack of American cigarettes. Now everyone has heard the story of the kid whose parent made them smoke an entire pack of cigarettes to impede on their smoking habit– I’m no smoker but who in the hell can smoke an entire pack of cigarettes and still yell at a bartender for putting Vermouth in their dirty martini , yell at their girlfriend for some menial reason, and muse about random bar ramblings? My point is a pack of cigarettes in one cigarette is not only not possible to smoke– it’s not possible to manufacture–or else Philip Morris would be in the lab now: “how in the hell do them Indians do it?”

So Bidi’s survived the propaganda campaign. USA-1 Bidi-1. Next campaign, tax issues. The USA imposed tax and incorporations guidelines on bidis until there were maybe less than 10 manufacturers importing to the US. Poor Tif. Bidi quality sucked, they were hard to get, the state at the time I was living in (NY) banned them completely as did many states, and us bidi smokers were shit out of luck. Not only could I not smoke in a bar in NY, I couldn’t buy what I smoked!

(please skip if you want to keep on pace with the original blog)

So I’m in a popular Harlem niteclub, you’ve seen it on all the dating shows, on episodes of Chappelle etc.-post smoking ban. I frequented the place once a week and knew the bartenders well. I went to the restroom and everyone was smoking their cancer-stick of choice. I refused, it was post 9/11 and I had recently been approached by 5 policeman in Grand Central and threatened with incarceration for an expired I.D.– I was not smoking in a niteclub in zero-tolerence NY. But in comes the bartender who lights a smoke. So I think hell if the establishment is down– I’m down. Just when we all lit up in comes a guy. He looks at us and flashes a legitimate ATF badge. Fuck. He looks at the panic on our face smiles– and pulls out a friggin cigarette. He goes on to say that the establishment was rumored to be a big drug haven. The owner had another niteclub in the Bronx and I for one know they basically had a scale in the bathroom and it wasn’t to weigh humans.
So tax laws currently have bidi importers down to less than 5 brands. Some brands switched names and logos just to confuse the U.S. government. Some bootlegged other importers and smuggled their smokes in. In the end, of course the good old boys (American Tobacco farmers) will win out, but I currently smoke two brands of half ass bidis: Soex and Ohm.

Until yesterday. My good friend Billy the Big Bad Ass brought me the motherload. He visited India for a few weeks on business and bestowed upon me bidi pon bidi. Small ones big ones, several different kinds(pictured). There is no way I can repay him for this, it’s like buying something that doesn’t theoretically exist. I thank him immensely. And upon smoking the first one (Bill’s gonna hate me for this) I immediately knew I had a good old kid rolled bidi. Gotta love the kids.

Administrator — October 26, 2005, 1:51 pm

Secret Love Child?

OK this is pure genius and idiotic at the same time. Great stunt in that now I know that there is another DeBarge and that said DeBarge has an album– but couldn’t he have done the math? Well at least he didn’t kill himself like Christopher Williams did to promote his album.

NEW YORK Oct 26, 2005 — Janet Jackson says she is not a mother. In a terse statement released Wednesday, the 39-year-old singer denied a former brother-in-law’s claim that she has a “secret” 18-year-old daughter.

“I do not have a child and all allegations saying so are false,” Jackson said in a statement released to the syndicated “Access Hollywood” TV show.

A call to Jackson’s publicist by The Associated Press Wednesday wasn’t immediately returned.

On Friday, Young DeBarge, the brother of Jackson’s ex-husband, James DeBarge, said Jackson and his brother had a child named Renee that was living with Rebbie Jackson, Janet’s oldest sister.

“James and the Jackson family kept everything real close, real tight,” Young DeBarge said on New York radio station WQHT, known as Hot 97.

Jackson and James DeBarge, a singer in the former R&B family group DeBarge, were married for three months in 1984, when Jackson was just 18.

Jackson secretly married Rene Elizondo Jr. in 1991. They separated in 1999. She is now dating Jermaine Dupri.

Young DeBarge, 28, is promoting his debut album.

Administrator — October 19, 2005, 6:46 am

Emmit Till The Movie

The movie opens today in very select theatres. To find a theatre near you [CLICK HERE]

To sponsor a child to see this movie, class or entire school, please email

Administrator — October 14, 2005, 10:05 am

This Can’t Be Real

If it is it’s sad.



Appendix I

This is a blog so I can say what I want, hate me if you want: Why not just shoot the broad?

Appendix II

This is more my style

Administrator — , 9:19 am

Quick Stat

As of Wednesday (10/12/05), about 1.3 percent of the $2.3 billion in FEMA contracts [for N.O. reconstruction] had gone to minority-owned firms. And 91 percent of FEMA contracts have gone to firms outside Louisiana, Alabama and Mississippi, according to data released earlier this month from the Department of Homeland Security

Administrator — October 13, 2005, 6:34 pm

Mind Magician

The leading suspect in the case of the death of 17 year old VCU student Taylor Behl, is a very captivating individual as are most intimate killers. The following is taken from a blog of another young girl who was perfectly anamored with him as you can see. The suspect is 38 year old Ben Fawley. if you don’t recall the story click here.

1. Copy and post in your Diary/LJ.

2. BOLD anything that is true.

3. Leave plain anything that is not true.

4. Add something. (=^-^=)


001. I miss somebody right now. (Ben & Jennifer)

002. I watch more tv than I used to. (I don’t have a TV yet)

003. I love (black) olives. (I do like green olives)

004. I love sleeping. (It is better with Ben)

005. I own a home.

006. I wear glasses or contact lenses.

007. I love to play video games.

008. I’ve done something illegal. (Bed did & I was there)

009. I’ve watched porn movies.

010. I have been in a threesome. (only with Ben & Jennifer)

011. I have been the psycho-ex in a past relationship. (Ben sure did, poor boy)

012. I like my handwriting.

013. I have acne-free skin. (now, not when I was in high school)

014. I like and respect Al Sharpton. (who’s he?)

015. I curse frequently.

016. I have changed a lot mentally over the last year. (Good to be away from VCU)

017. I have a hobby.

018. I’ve been to another country. (Canada & Mexico)

019. I carry my knife/razor everywhere with me. (I have a gun now my dad got it for me. Nice Christmas present)

020. I’m really, really smart.

021. I’ve never broken anyone else’s bones. (broke my own arm)

022. I have a secret that I am ashamed to reveal. (I do have a secret)

023. I love rain.

024. I’m paranoid at times.

025. I would get plastic surgery if it were 100% safe, free of cost, and scar-free.

026. I need money right now. (who doesn’t)

027. I love sushi.

028. I talk really, really fast sometimes. (on the phone)

029. I have fresh breath in the morning.

030. I have semi-long hair. (just got it cut)

031. I have lost money in Las Vegas. (mom & dad’s money that is)

032. I have at least one brother and/or sister. (Ben no fooling with my sister or I will cut it off)

033. I was born in a country outside of the U.S.

034. I shave my legs. (I hate shaving)

035. I have a twin.

037. I couldn’t survive without Caller I.D.

038. I like the way that I look.

039. I have lied to a good friend in the past 6 months. (not you Ben. Sorry Karen)

040. I know how to do cornrows. (Ugly)

041. I am usually pessimistic.

042. I have mood swings.

043. I think prostitution should be legalized. (A guy would)

044. I think Brittany Spears is pretty. (hate the bitch)

045. I have cheated on a significant other. (well she and I both did with Ben)

046. I have a hidden talent.

047. I’m always hyper no matter how much sugar I have.

048. I’ve been sexually intimate with less than ten people. (no lie. Just 6, 5 girls and Ben)

049. I am currently single. (no time to date)

050. I have kissed someone of the same sex. (women just kiss better)

051. I enjoy talking on the phone. (not in the car)

052. I practically live in sweatpants or PJ pants. (a college thing. I use to sleep nude)

053. I love to shop. (I spend more than I should)

054. I would rather shop than eat. (=^-^=)

055. I would classify myself as (living in the) ghetto. (I was in Richmond. All of Richmond city is a ghetto)

056. I’m bourgeoisie and have worn a sweater tied around my shoulders.

057. I’m obsessed with my diary!

058. I don’t hate anyone.

059. I’m a pretty good dancer. (Ben is better)

060. I don’t think Mike Tyson raped Desiree Washington.

061. I’m completely embarrassed to be seen with my mother. (she is getting better)

062. I have a cell phone. (I need a new one)

063. I watch MTV on a daily basis.

065. I have passed out drunk in the past 6 months.

067. I have never been in a real relationship before. (I was in one with Jennifer)

068. I’ve rejected someone before. (lots of guys)

069. I currently have a crush on someone. (girl at work =^-^=)

070. I have no idea what I want to do for the rest of my life. (=^-^=)

071. I want to have children in the future. (with Ben)

072. I have changed a diaper before. (my sister’s)

073. I’ve had the cops called on me before. (about Ben & his psycho-ex)

074. I bite my nails.

075. I am a member of the Tom Green fan club.

076. I’m not allergic to anything deadly. (I hope)

077. I have a lot to learn. (Yes I know)

078. I have dated someone at least 10 years older or younger. (Ben, who else is over 30 but looks 21?)

079. I plan on seeing Ice Cube’s newest “Friday” movie.

080. I am very shy around the opposite sex.

081. I’m online 24/7, even as an away message.

082. I have at least 5 away messages saved. (only have 4)

083. I have been rejected by someone. (only Ben)

084. I have made a move on a friend’s significant other in the past. (=^-^=)

085. I own the “SOUTH PARK” movie. (=^-^=)

086. I have avoided work to play on OD.

087. When I was a kid I played “the birds and the bees” with a neighbor or chum.

088. I enjoy country music. certain things, like folk/country.

089. I love my best friend. (=^-^=)

090. I think that Pizza Hut has the best pizza.

091. I watch soap operas whenever I can.

092. I’m obsessive, anal retentive, and often a perfectionist.

093. I have used my sexuality to advance my career. (Haven’t had the chance)

094. I love Michael Jackson, scandals and all.

095. I know all the words to Slick Rick’s “Children’s Story”.

096. Halloween is awesome because you get free candy. (just what I don’t need)

097. I watch Spongebob Squarepants and I like it.

098. I have dated a close friend’s ex. (I stole Jennifer =^-^=)

099. I’m happy as of this moment. (=^-^=)

100. I have gone scuba diving.

101. Had a crush on somebody you have never met. (had one on Ben before I met him)

102. I’ve kissed someone I knew I shouldn’t. (well that if you ask my mom. I kiss girls & like it =^-^=)

103. I play a musical instrument. (in high school)

104. I strongly dislike math. (math sucks)

105. I’m procrastinating on something right now. (=^-^=)

106. I own and use a library card. (well I have one for Richmond)

107. I fall in “lust” more than in “love.”

108. Cheese enchiladas rock my socks. (=^-^=)

109. I think The Lord of the Rings is one of the greatest things ever.

110. I’m obsessed with the tv show “The O.C.”

111. I am resentful that I have to grow up.

112. I am an entirely different person around different people. (all men but Ben)

113. I think the world would be a better place if people just smiled more often. (=^-^=)

114. I think ramen is one of the best foods in the whole world. (Ben makes the only Ramen I like)

115. I am suffering of a broken heart.

116. I am a nerd. (ok I might be. =^-^=)

117. No matter where I am or who I’m with, I always seem to be lonely.

118. I am left handed and proud of it.

119. I try not to change who I am for someone. (=^-^=)

120. My heart resides below my feet.

121. I have had sex with someone I was not in a relationship with. (only Ben)

122. I enjoy smoothies. (=^-^=)

123. I have had major surgery. (had surgery but was it major?)

124. I have adopted a pet from the SPCA.

125. I am listening to Radiohead right now.

126. Some people call me by a nickname.

127. I once stole a music stand. (why?)

128. I like pumpkin pie. (more than I should)

129. I love NASCAR!

130. I own over 200 CDs.

131. I work 7 days a week.

132. I have mono.

132. I don’t have the ability to make decisions without changing my mind. (=^-^=)

133. People tell me I have a horrible sense of humor.

134. I’m still in my PJs. (just the top)

135. I’m looking for love in all the wrong places. (=^-^=)

136. I have a tendency to fall for the wrong girls, or have them fall for me.

137. I’ll try anything three times.

138. Done drugs other than alcohol. (only pot)

139. I’m having trouble sleeping.

140. I am a cuddlier. (=^-^=)

141. I love John Waters films.

142. I have made a pornographic videotape. (Ben took nude photos of me & Jennifer)

143. Sloth is my favorite deadly sin.

144. I have moved more than ten times in my life.

145. I have more than three pets.

146. I’d rather kiss than eat. (=^-^=)

147. I like to knit.

148. I don’t sleep in socks. (I sleep nude)

149. I love my family.

150. I love playing in the snow. (=^-^=)

151. In my dreams I show no mercy.

152. I will go out of my way to make someone happy.

153. Size does matter. (=^-^=)

154. I ate too much today.

155. I hate cold weather. (=^-^=)

156. I love to have oral sex with women.

157. I spend too much time in Photoshop. (Ben you need to show me this =^-^=)

158. I have a web page and own a .com/.org/or other.

159. I like kids. (Ben’s kids are the best =^-^=)

160. I dye my hair. (I was red but with the job I went black)

161. I have never used die in my hair.

162. I have more than one computer. (one that is mine. the one at work isn’t mine I just use it =^-^=)

163. I use Windows XP. (=^-^=)

164. I use an out-dated Windows OS.

165. I use a Mac OS.

166. I own a car. (Honda =^-^=)

167. I own a truck (SUV).

168. I listen to Goth or Industrial music. (Ben did give me a mixed CD =^-^=)

169. I have over 200 mp3′s.

170. I have had sex with a lot of people.

171. I had sex before I was 18 years old. (only oral sex until I had sex with Ben =^-^=)

172. I shoplift. (bad Ben)

173. I live in the city. (=^-^=)

174. I live in the suburbs.

175. I live in the country.

176. I rent an apartment.

177. I have had an STD.

178. I am over 21. (=^-^=)

179. I get drunk all of the time.

180. I sell drugs.

181. I am fat, think I am fat, or people call me fat.

182. I smoke.

183. I drink coffee. (=^-^=)

184. I have used the subway. (=^-^=)

185. I download mp3′s and movies for free.

186. I have lived in more than 3 states in America.

187. I served in the military.

188. I voted for Bush in 2000. (sucks I didn’t vote)

189. I voted for Bush in 2004. (sucks)

190. I voted for Kerry in 2004. (I voted, Ben made me =^-^=)

191. I need my cell phone and never leave home without it. (=^-^=)

192. I own a digital camera. (I want one)

193. I have a camera phone.

194. I wear boxers all the time. (no boxers for Ben)

195. I think cannabis should be legalized in the USA. (everywhere)

196. I get sick all the time.

197. I have a futon bed. (I need a real bed)

198. I am still in High School.

199. I first had sex in High School. (does oral count?)

200. I finished high school. (so glad)

201. I went to college in a different state than I went to High School in.

202. I have gone to Hollywood. (The graveyard)

203. I want to be a rock star even though I am not in a band.

204. I had someone of the opposite sex lie to me about his or her age. (I thought Ben was ling)

205. I have had a one-night stand and liked it.

206. I had sex with a total stranger.

207. I had sex in a college dorm room. (with my roomie & Ben)

208. I had sex in a car. (once with Ben)

209. I had sex with someone and we didn’t use any birth control. (Bad Ben)

210. I am so bored I am filling out another stupid survey or quiz in live journal. (bored)

211. I look a lot younger than I am (people think I am a lot younger than I am). (This was added by Ben I see)

212. I was so bored I fixed the spelling in this survey thing & added some other than just this. (=^-^=)

Administrator — , 8:53 am


Not that I know anything about counterfeiting or had any part of that big ’90′s faux dub catastrophe, or was barred from any bars or crap games in my time, but this article humbled me. Pure genius, mad I didn’t think of it. I guess a criminal mind fades with the criminal acts you cease to partake in.

Fake $100 bills pouring into city
Officials ask retailers to be on the alert for counterfeit notes
By Matthew Dolan
Sun reporter
Originally published October 13, 2005

Fake $100 bills are pouring into the Baltimore area each week, the largest chunk of a new batch of well designed but remarkably easy to detect counterfeit money turning up in banks along the East Coast.

Officials can’t say who is responsible or whether Baltimore is the counterfeiters’ home. The money-tampering technique – bleaching a $5 note, slowly scraping away the ink and superimposing the image of a $100 – isn’t new, authorities say.

The bogus C-notes are flooding Baltimore’s illegal money market at the rate of thousands of dollars weekly and are accounting for more than half of the fake money seized in the area by the Secret Service.

The amount seized in Maryland is greater than in any other state from North Carolina to New York, said Todd W. Kreisher, acting special agent in charge of the Baltimore office of the Secret Service.

“It’s not being caught by the retailers,” Kreisher said this week. “It’s being caught by the banks. But then it’s too late.”

Counterfeiters bleach a real $5 bill until the green ink is washed away, Kreisher said. Then they put the blank paper into a common ink-jet printer, where a $100 bill design is applied.

The Secret Service, created in 1865 to fight counterfeiting, thinks the amount of digitally produced fake bills has grown from 1 percent of the fake money found in 1995 to about 40 percent today. In 2002, federal officials in Philadelphia charged nine people with passing more than $800,000 worth of bogus $100 and $50 notes that had been bleached.

The phony bills thwart a common tool used by cashiers to spot phony money paper, a litmus-test-like pen that can detect commercial-grade paper when the pen’s ink turns a darker color. The fake bills escape detection because the paper is real, authorities said.

Visually inspecting the bills is a simple and effective way to spot the fake notes, officials said.

Each real $100 bill has an image of Ben Franklin. When held up to the light, the authentic bill reveals a second, matching watermark image of Franklin.

On the fake bills, the images don’t match. The center image is of Franklin, but the watermark to the right indicates Abraham Lincoln, revealing its origin as a $5 bill.

“Retailers should be able to catch this because it’s as easy as holding the bill up to a light,” said Special Agent Gary Loman of the Baltimore office. “But they’re not.”

According to the most recent figures available, the Federal Reserve Bank estimates that about $725 billion in U.S. currency is in circulation. A tiny percentage – about $43 million – is thought to be counterfeit.

Secret Service agents, who declined to reveal the total amount of bogus $100 bills they have collected, decided to talk about the investigation because they feel they have hit a brick wall.

“We’re hoping that retailers will spot some of these counterfeits and call us or the local police right away,” Kreisher said.

Progress has been made. Target store employees reported that counterfeit $100 bills had been passed at one of its Glen Burnie stores this year. A follow-up investigation by the Secret Service discovered purchases with counterfeit money totaling $700.

The suspect in the case, a 36-year-old Baltimore man, returned the merchandise to other Target stores for cash refunds, essentially laundering the fake money, authorities said. He was arrested Sept. 7 in Owings Mills, where agents found $400 in counterfeit currency and a number of receipts for items purchased with cash.

Administrator — , 8:21 am

Man arrested in bomb case

O.K. this is a case of media hype and total ignorance. First off the supervising adult should be responsible being negligent of a child drinking a strange substance in an open field.

Originally published October 13, 2005
The Baltimore Sun

A 21-year-old Cecil County man has been arrested and charged with constructing a “soda bottle bomb,” the contents of which were ingested by a 17-month-old child who was hospitalized in critical condition.

State fire marshals said two explosive devices were constructed from soda bottles and detonated in Rising Sun. One was left in a field near the victim’s home.

Four days later, on Oct. 4, Breckin Lawrence Allgood was playing outdoors under the supervision of a relative when he found the remains of the device and ingested them. He was in critical but stable condition at A.I. duPont Hospital for Children in Wilmington, Del.

Paul Matthew James Jr. was charged Tuesday with two counts of constructing a destructive device. He could be sentenced to as much as 25 years in prison and fined up to $250,000.

Secondly, this “bomb” seems like some serious Al-Qaidish travesty as written here. Let’s just say if I was a mischiveous teen who liked to cause havoc, I would be a serial purputrator of constructing these “bombs”. In college a guy that looked and smelled just like me used to make these bombs all the time, blowing the screen door off the Zeta Phi Beta house, leaving them on crowded corners, knocking on my friend Timmy’s door and leaving a “bomb” of this type blowing him off his feet. Sure he shot me in the stomach with a BB gun , but that was much more dangerous than the “bomb”. Unless you’re an unsepervised toddler and decide to drink it, the “bomb” is relatively harmless. I would reveal the contents of the “bomb” but I don’t need some other idiot making one and their lil sister drinking it and someone blaming me.

Administrator — October 12, 2005, 9:24 am

More from Murder Inc.

OK, I’m no criminal genius, hell I’m no genius at all, but I think the biggest criminal in the hip hop industry (Kenneth “Supreme” McGriff) would a)know better to talk openly on the phone from prison and b)talk to one Christopher “Chris Gotti” Lorenzo, the same idiot that shot hiself accidentally in Manhattan. I don’t know about ‘Preme but this is one dude that wouldn’t be on my squad. Aside from that is the Inc. that broke that Preme has to ask for financial assistance (read transcripts) from Jay-Z and Puffy? When he asked Chris Gotti whether he had $500, and he replied that he was broke and all he had was $10? Sad.

Furthermore, as much as I despise the wife beater wearing R&B hook singing mumbler, what is the obsession with counting 50 money? Either outsell him, tie him up somwhere or stop whining about the bastard.
[read full transcript from]

Administrator — October 11, 2005, 8:12 am

Everyday Struggle

The Baltimore Sun has a compelling article about two homeless teenagers trying to graduate. All the current chapters are available here, the story will be complete this week.

On their Own

About this series: Reporter Liz Bowie and Photographer André Chung spent time with Iven Bailey and Gary Sells over many months, witnessing most of the scenes described at Lake Clifton-Eastern High School and in their neighborhoods. Other events were reconstructed from interviews with administrators, teachers coaches, relatives and friends. The reporter also relied on police records and other public documents.

Sharing a secret
Iven and Gary belonged to a nearly invisible group of teens living on society’s margins without a parent’s help, without a real home


Administrator — October 10, 2005, 12:47 pm


Police charged with battery in New Orleans
3 arrested after subduing 64-year-old, confronting camera crew

Monday, October 10, 2005; Posted: 12:07 p.m. EDT (16:07 GMT)

New Orleans police officers restrain a man Saturday night in the French Quarter.

Violent arrest caught on tape (Viewer discretion advised) (2:14)

NEW ORLEANS, Louisiana (AP) — Three police officers in New Orleans were charged with battery Sunday after an incident in which two repeatedly struck a 64-year-old man accused of public intoxication as another officer confronted a TV producer.


Make sure you watch both videos, warning the second video is very graphic


New Orleans cops investigated for allegedly stealing cars

NEW ORLEANS (AP) – State authorities are investigating allegations New Orleans police officers broke into a dealership and made off with nearly 200 cars — including 41 new Cadillacs — as Hurricane Katrina closed in.


Administrator — October 9, 2005, 12:26 am

WE- ARE!!!

That’s right boys and girls. The only thing I rep harder than my neighborhood (which I really don’t rep anymore), my race (which I am ashamed of sometimes), and my gender (which I only do until I get home), is my school– PSU, I bleed Blue & White. You may think this foolish, there’s a whole lot of positive things I could probably align myself to and be passionate about but hey this is what I love. My senior year we went undefeated and was either #1 or #2 all year, and lost the National Championship bid (read: bid not game) to Nebraska. And honestly we aint been shit since. Aint saying we really shit now but…


And only a Penn State aknowledgist will get that. Let’s start at the beginning of the season. Everyone has been calling for our Godfather’s head, and for all of you who don’t know who the Godfather of Penn State Football is or the Godfather of all of college football in my opinion, please stop reading and find a blog that better suits your ass. I’m talking frigging Joe Pa. Joe Paterno (insert whatever mindblowing best of any college football coach stat here).

Now many have been calling for the head of Joe Pa, being the aging genius that he is or once was, but as the Godfather that will happen to you. He has many accolades in the past but in the past 10 years, many a critic has deemed him an over the hill has been. But, being a loyal follower of my gangsta Godfather, Ima stick with Joe– who built this shit– him, who I trust– him. What other college football coach gave back their school over 10 million dollars? What other college football coach’s salary has been undisclosed for years? Gangsta. And for all those who want to draw a Sapranos anology– Joe Pa is no Uncle Juney– he made this school the football empire that it is and he deserves his just do– “la familia” style– So to all of you– Penn State Fans and Non-Penn State Fans– Joe Pa steps down when he decides to– not when a bunch of non-EMPIRE-building oppinionists say he has to.

I’d like to take this time to send a special “BUAHHAHAHA” to this guy whom I’ve commented on his board weeks prior to our stellar season and offer another “WE-ARE!”.

So let’s do a season re-cap– not like i’ve seen all the games but-let’s recap the hell.

Game I

Vs. Southern Florida
W 23-13

I don’t even remember this game but remember calling around town trying to locate it while I got scoring updates on my laptop.

Game II

Vs. Cinci
W 42-24

We beat Cinci while I was matriculating, 81-0, so bad that then visiting (and losing) presidential candidate Bush Sr. came to campus and said “I want to beat Bill Clinton the way Penn State beat Cincinatti this year”. I knew this one was in the bag but still viewed the webcast.

Game II

Vs. C Michigan
W 40-3

I searched high and wide for this game. yes i must admit Joe Pa picks cream-puff schedules before those amongst his ranks go against the big ranks, I think that’s genius. So I thought this the last game before we actually enter reality so I called all of Baltimore and ended up at Don Shula’s sitting next to an Eagle’s fan (Eew), and Baba and Micki. We ended up beating the crap out of them and I had a great time. Eagles fan and i had a great time while Baba and Micki looked on like parents.

At this time I need to state Baba and Micki’s involvement in my Penn State passion and pride. Being my best friend and girlfriend these two have to sit with me and intervene when needed and understand my “addiction”. Baba the most non-educated–educated person I know, grew up in what he calls “Pennsyl-tucky”, the country side of Pennslyvania 100 miles fom everywhere, knows of Penn State but doesn’t quite gripe the passion. It’s like a blood who doesn’t like bold colors or a republican with a sense of “life”. So Baba really doesn’t give a fuck but would rather PSU win cuz everyone he knows and loves– loves Penn State.

Micki on the other hand has been wounded by Penn State or actually those ignorant of the difference in Penn State and the University of Pennsylvania. So for all those not in the know, a quick history lesson: Penn State an agricultural school founded in 1855 spead across rural Pennsylvania with its main campus in Central Pennsylvania with at least 22 sattelite campuses, State school with a tremdenous football historty that competes with/exceeds Notre Dame. University of Pennsylvania, snooty Ivy league School, something to do with Ben Franklin, one centarlized Philly location, like a jillion dollars a semester, which speaks for the jillion dollars a year Micki makes more than me- in the same field, but with the money I save not paying back my school– hell I can put my daughter through school– AND- buy rounds of drinks for fellow Penn State fans, or those even pretending to give a damn. So suffice it to say, Micki has a problem with engaging herself with a dumbass (that’d be me) from Penn State, whilst being accepted, paying a kajillion dollars for an Ivy League education at the University of Pennsylvania, enduring the curriculum, and someone comes up to her and says “so you went to Penn State?” Gratifaction there alone makes up for the lapse in salary for me.

any who…

Game IV


This one scared the bajeezus out of me. And where was I– not able to view the game– in Chicago home of Northwestern. I had the busy Friday’s/Chili’s/Ruby Tuesday’s guy flipping channels for his tip and his life. By the time we discovered the game we were losing horribly. Tear-cheek. I leave tux draped over my shoulder enroute to being once again “handsomest groomsmen” in a wedding. We get there, I’m losing my dog (groom: we once died our hair blue and white together), my game (PSU/NWestn) –damn. Micki called me we had came back! I smiled all through the ceremony! Don’t get me wrong I love the bridal couple but I have priorities- ask Micki.

Game V
#18 Minnesota

W 44-14

So, you read the moving story, never got a chance to see this one– but we beat the then #18 team in the country like they stole something!!! Give us our propers! Did you see M. Rob run over the cat– a Quarterback straight shitting on the D? Apologies to the guys family but he ran over him and “knocked him the fuck out!”.

Game VI
#6 Ohio State

W 17-10

Once again WE-ARE!!! If you haven’t figured out by now the correct response to that is: “PENN-STATE!!!”. So Micki and the Baba man content on hanging out at the crib and watching movies until the game, which they want to watch at home: choices: cable: Cheech & Chong, Nice Dreams, DVD: Aviators/Gangs of New York. Both running times were over two hours, so I opt for Wire season one episodes we watch and we head out. We go to M’gerck’s(sp) in Federal Hill, they have the best excuse for a Philly Cheesesteak there is, I say excuse because, often imitated, never duplicated… you know the story, but the guy is Philly bred so we watch the first half with some psuedo-PSU fans. The lovely, and I say lovely as if she isn’t always lovely, but the lovely fresh from makeup lesson/treatment/movie star-makeup Micki- in a hoodie– suggests another bar: City Limits. It’s a sorta dive on the limits of the peninsula that seperates Baltimore from umm Baltimore and we head down at halftime with a 14-10 lead. Great choice. PSU heaven– parephenailia, jerseys, high fives– now this is Penn State football!

The game wasn’t pretty, Joe Pa battled in his traditional conservative garb, the ball needed more air but in the end– we remained victorious! We beat the #6 team in the nation– give us our propers! Can I see top 5??? Only two teams 6-0 in the nation can we get ours???

and with all that I’d like to say again:


Administrator — October 5, 2005, 10:34 pm

Just For Kicks

A meme from Marlo Girl

1. Go into your archive.
2. Find your 23rd post.
3. Find the fifth sentence (or closest to).
4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions.
5. Tag five other people to do the same.

here’s what i found:

“It’s purely unintentional, but I’m a lovable asshole.”

Administrator — , 1:42 pm

Inner City Blues

Institutionalized or natural born killer? You be the judge.

Man on probation charged in killing
Store owner’s death has others on guard in Cherry Hill

By Gus G. Sentementes and Melissa Harris
Sun reporters

Originally published October 5, 2005
William R. Langley spent more than 20 years in prison after he sprayed gunfire into a crowded Cherry Hill gym, killing a man he targeted and wounding a teenage bystander.

Yesterday, Langley was charged with killing a carryout-shop owner in the same neighborhood, this time in an argument over an order for a steak sub, according to police and other sources.

“This was not an attempted robbery,” said Maj. Richard C. Fahlteich, commander of the homicide unit. “This was an argument over something we hear was probably very trivial.”

Nae Chun Pak, owner of Cherry Hill Carryout in South Baltimore, was shot once in the head Monday night. Police charging documents said the suspect became “boisterous” after placing an order at the restaurant. His money was returned, and he left the store, only to return a short time later to shoot Pak, the documents said.

A witness who saw the alleged gunman flee provided police with a vehicle license plate number, which they traced to the suspect. A second witness positively identified Langley as the shooter, police said.

Langley, 48, had been out of prison for less than year, according to the state’s Department of Public Safety and Correctional Services. After pleading guilty to the shootings in 1977, he served 22 years in the state prison system. He was sent back to prison in 2001 for another unspecified charge and released on probation in November, 2004, a state official said.

“He had been compliant in adhering to the terms of his parole and probation officer,” said Mark Vernarelli, a department spokesman. Langley was expected to be under supervision by the Division of Parole and Probation through next October, Vernarelli said.

Langley was charged with first-degree murder, second-degree murder and assault and handgun violations in connection with the death of Pak, 46, charging documents show. Langley lived in Parkville.

Pak’s killing, shortly before 7 p.m. on Monday, stunned some residents of Cherry Hill who described him as a generous and hard-working business owner. He was killed while working behind the counter.

His business is part of a larger building that includes a convenience store and a barbershop in the 600 block of Cherry Hill Road. Residents who live near the carry out said it was popular neighborhood hang out that served good fried chicken and sandwiches.

“He was funny, nice; he helped you out,” said Tricey Edward, 27, a Cherry Hill resident while standing near Pak’s shuttered store yesterday afternoon. “He would pay people a couple dollars to help him clean the parking lot. Everybody loved him…”

DaShawn Watts, 33, described Pak as one of the nice store owners in the neighborhood.

“He used to give free food out if you didn’t have any money,” Watts said. “He always looked out for us.”

Judy Kim, 50, who works at a carryout shop across the street from Pak’s business in the Cherry Hill Town Center, said she was surprised to hear that he had been killed. At one time, she had worked for Pak, and now with his violent death, shop owners are concerned about neighborhood safety.

“I’ve been here 10 years,” Kim said. “We’re careful, but I don’t know … . I just come here and work and go home.”

Pak’s slaying also stunned the region’s community of Korean-American merchants, who met with city leaders yesterday to discuss the killing.

Pak had owned the Cherry Hill store for about six years, said friend Kap Park, who is president of the Korean American Grocer Association in Baltimore. Park said that city officials told him that the dispute in Pak’s store began over an order for a steak sub.

“He worked six days a week, every day except Sunday,” said Park, who met his friend a decade ago when they both volunteered with the association. “I’d call him a workaholic, but he also was a typical immigrant.”

“He was shy and not an outspoken person,” Park added. “He would never start an argument with a customer.”

Pak, who served on the association’s board in the 1990s, previously owned a small convenient store in Baltimore, but Park said his friend gave up the business because it wasn’t earning enough money for him to afford to send his daughters to college.

“The (carryout) was very busy and gave him financial security for his children,” he said.

Park said he wasn’t sure how long Pak had lived in the United States, but he estimated that it was about 20 years. He lived in a two-story house on an affluent, suburban cul-de-sac in Clarksville with his twin 16-year-old daughters, 9-year-old son, wife and mother-in-law.

Pak apparently had served Langley on previous occasions, according to police. Langley had grown up in the Cherry Hill neighborhood, but he had been staying recently with his mother in Parkville, his daughter, Gaybrelle Langley, 27, said yesterday.

Langley said her mother was three months pregnant with her when her father went to prison. She said she remembers going to visit him at prisons in Hagerstown and the Eastern Shore.

Langley pleaded guilty in 1977 in the shootings of a man and a juvenile during a basketball game at St. Veronica’s Social Hall in the 2900 block of Joseph Avenue in Cherry Hill. Robert Jackson Lee, 17, was wounded.

Langley pleaded guilty to killing Charles Davis, 26, and received a 20-year prison sentence. He received a concurrent 10-year term after his guilty plea for wounding Lee, according to news accounts of his sentencing.

Since his release last year, Langley was being supervised by the state Division of Parole and Probation. He had been compliant with the terms of his probation, a state corrections official said.

After serving 20 years you get out and kill somebody over a cheesesteak? I swear this sounds like a story of one of my relatives.

Administrator — , 10:24 am

Home Sweet Home

OK, we finally found a place. I am perfectly happy with it, it’s growing on the lil woman, I think she has separation anxiety from the old place. It met all our requirements: at least two bedrooms, two levels, at least 1.5 baths and somewhere to bbq- (deck/balcony)- downtown. I actually think it surpassed our requirements, penthouse suite 42 foot ceilings, bedroom and loft, two full baths, living room and den, courtyard with gas grills, free internet– downtown. The only expectation that we lost was living inside a building. We actually wanted a walk up put your key in place like we had before, but in downtown Baltimore rental properties like that are scarce.


The cons I immediately see are bearable in the least but for arguments sake they are: (1)The AC doesn’t really boom upstairs. I’m sort of Penguin-like while the lil woman walks around draped in a blanket, I sorta like steam coming off my breath– especially in the summer. (2) Bedrooms aren’t confined. Some sheek retro architect guy designed the place as if it were a Manhattan dwelling for swinger couples who happen to be voyeurs or something. So while I’m in the room watching TV and Micki is hibernating somewhere, she hears my television program and thus turns on another TV and I hear that TV and we behave like angry neighbors adjusting the volume to compensate. This also renders us sex-less when guests are upon us. Which brings me to: (3) Walls are thin. Word of the house is “huh”. We hear shit– we think one of us is talking to us we just walk around yelling “huh?, baby you say something”. It doesn’t help that I talk to inanimate objects and to every asshole on the football field on the TV screen, and to random people I see out on the street out the window (who can’t hear me) but I like yelling: “look at that 300 pound cock diesel muscle bound dude with a dog the size of a sim card”– but that’s just me. I’d like to add a (3.5) because it’s not really gripe but I lose Micki in the place. She leaves the room and boom– gone. You would have to see it to understand, but it’s two separate second floors, I think we should build a bridge across them or something. “Honey where you at?” is the second phrase of the place. Which brings me to: (4)Living room upstairs. This is not actually a gripe again because this was a decision, to make the room adjacent the kitchen (pictured above) a sitting room where no one really sits and making the den the living room where you spill beer and popcorn weekly. The problem with this is after you climb a flight of steps and realize you don’t have your beer– man it’s almost a lease breaker. (5)Living in a complex/community. I’m a get along guy. I get along with whoever the hell I want to get along with. I’m nice to who I want to be nice to. Living here I feel responsible to wave and smile for some reason. We have 24 hour reception/door people, I gotta wave and speak to them. Wave and speak to neighbors. Put a face on. I’m actually a ghetto bred asshole and sooner or later somebody is gonna realize this. This is not so much of a problem as I found my own entrances and exits where I don’t have to encounter humans. (6) The Neighborhood. We’re still in MT. Vernon but our rear end is in Seton Hill. And as quintessential Baltimore goes a neighborhood can go from Heavenly to Hell in one quarter mile. So one half our building is in Heaven the other half in Hell. It doesn’t bother me– I’m from North-East-South-West-whatever parts there are in existence-Hell, but I oft think to myself- am I gonna have to smack a mofo?

But other than that, I really love the place, I think it is the only place we’ve seen that could be possibly better than our last place, which although I’m still very fond of, I’m realizing its best attribute was convenience. And that’s something you want in a dwelling. Once our new home is convenient– I’ll be content.

Beer sports movies and pocorn living room

Example of the open air bedroom design– the two doorways are to bedrooms. They have no immediate ceilings.

Window where I spy/yell at unsuspecting Baltimorons, seven flights up.

Appendix I

Moving. So we were set to move on October first but due to the wedding in Chi we are running behind schedule. We reserve a 14 foot U Haul truck online and are scheduled to pick it up on the most notorious street in Baltimore. Not notorious in it’s really bad, but let’s just say there is no good on this street and it usually is the street that separates the bad from the good. Anyone who lives in Baltimore knows what street I speak of, it spans the width of town and boasts a college, a courthouse, a VD clinic, a graveyard and a funeral home– all on the same street. So I knew something was shady and unpredictable but trying to move the first of the month you need to reserve a moving truck much more in advance. So we get to homeboy hook em ups or whatever it was called– I aint hating homeboy was getting his hustle on– fuck Cassidy– this dude was a hustla and of course “they” or “he” don’t have a 14 foot truck. At this point I need to note that homeboy hook em ups had a bails bondmen service, pre-paid cellphones, Maryland transit passes, and a big sign that said: INTERNET. I’m not sure how that worked, I know Al Gore invented the internet but maybe he gave it to homeboy to sell.

So homeboy is polite I’m ready to fly off the handle at any point and he offers us a 10 foot truck. We would have to make several trips with this truck so homeboy offered us 1/4th off the mileage costs. Thanks homeboy. Since we had to make the extra trips, we needed more time than the allotted eight hours or so, so he said we could bring the truck back tomorrow. Micki yells “you said you were closed on Sunday!” Homeboy says, “I don’t know who told you that”. Micki yells “you did!”. Homeboy says “oh, well we’re open til 1pm”. As if there was a “we”. So I tell homeboy we’ll have it back by noon when Micki realizes the basis of homeboy’s hours: Micki: “you just want us to be back so you can watch football!” Homeboy: “yup”.

So me Micki and the Baba man get into the truck, and before I proceed I must digress. When choosing moving help we selected a)the Baba man because not only is he my best friend that I would count on in a moving situation– he’s a professional art handler. This dude moves shit like nobody’s business– I’ll get into that later. I chose Bill because I lent a hand in his recent move and installed the Henry Ford method of getting his shit up five flights of steps, one person on each floor– assembly line. I chose, hmm what did I call him in a previous post– 12? Because hey he’s a big dude that can drive and he did a good job in moving us out of NY. So on the eve of my moving Bill says “I can’t make it, I got two tix to the MD/UVA game”. I go “shit”. Then the wonderful Bill goes “hey I wonder if 12 wants the other tick– he went to UVA”. Double shit. I can’t get mad at him Bill gave me tix to last year’s Cowboys/Ravens game and I ditched Micki’s second golf outing in a heartbeat. Jumped out the car on the way to the highway on-ramp and took a cab to the stadium.

So me the Baba man and Micki get in the truck– it’s little as shit, so little it’s funny, me and the Baba man are giggling like shit– Micki is getting upset, she thinks it’s her fault. Hell, we got a truck on the first of the month, that should be a task for teams on the Apprentice or some shit. So we go to drive off and these little urban kids yell “look at that little truck!” Me and the Baba man find it hilarious Micki is really upset. We get to the warehouse where the Baba man and his employer store their stuff for supplies (hand truck/dolly/etc.) and he shows me around a little. It had to be several million dollars worth of the most fine antique furniture I have seen in my life stored there. Baba moves stuff for rich fucks like the Heinze’s and major political figures up and down the coasts and even out to the Pacific islands. There was a set of chairs that someone paid $350K with gold spiraling the legs that someone was paying to store because they didn’t like them. Let’s look at that. Someone paid $350K for some chairs, paid an high price mover to move them, didn’t like them, paid same high price mover to move them to high priced movers storage facility– then paid high prices for storage. Gotta love rich folks.

So to make a long story short me, Baba, Micki and a friend of my youngest brother dismantled and packed all our belongings into a truck and moved them this past Saturday. Baba made it so easy as he said packing a truck is like a real life game of Tetris. He also unloaded in a placement factor– put things where they are going to go, that’s the reason the photos above show our place in livable fashion. Bill helped out on the last load of Tif/Micki moving/packing Sunday which wasn’t as resourceful as Baba moving. We bought a bushel of crabs and a heap of beer steamed ate drank and celebrated. Now if I could only find my shoes.

Administrator — October 4, 2005, 11:08 am

Bush’s Response to Kanye


Administrator — October 3, 2005, 9:55 pm

George Bush Doesn’t Like Black People

Ok, I will eventually start a virtual mixttape forum here on stuff I like, but I will start with something that humored me that I found on Kalamu’s blog, a song from The Legondary K.O.’s page: Listen to George Bush Don’t like Black People. Enjoy.

Appendix I

A Message From The Legendary KO
September 27, 2005

Over the last several weeks, the eyes of the world have been fixed on the events in the Gulf Coast, events that will change the face of that region forever. During this time, we have borne witness to the most horrific images of human tragedy, along with inspiring scenes of personal triumph. Suffice to say, most of us have been moved.

We, The Legendary KO, penned “George Bush Doesn’t Care About Black People” to illustrate the struggles and concerns of those involved in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. Since that time, we’ve been overwhelmed with calls and emails from across the globe in support of what many have already called “ the most important ‘freestyle’ of all time”. We are eternally grateful for such accolades, but are more gratified in knowing that we played a role in making more people aware of the strides that we all need to make in dealing with the issues of class and race in the U.S.

It is our sincere hope that our work has opened the lines of dialogue and motivated others to take action against discrimination of any kind. What we know for certain is that a number of people have already started to pick up where we left off by compositing videos to accompany the music and words of “George Bush Doesn’t Care About Black People”. While the videos themselves represent the visions of their respective editors and not necessarily The Legendary KO, we encourage you to share them with others in hopes that they might bring more attention to the situation in the Gulf Coast.

Video from Guerilla News Newtork

Administrator — , 9:07 am


Robbery/arrest // A 25-year-old man was walking in an alley in the 500 block of S. Madeira St. about 2 a.m. Saturday when a man robbed him of a knife and backpack. Arrested a short time later and charged with unarmed robbery was Allen Williams, 25, of the 300 block of S. Chapel St.

Administrator — , 8:06 am

Attack of The Killer Cat

I find this funny.

City animal control officer deals with the creatures we love — and those we don’t
By Tyrone Richardson
Sun reporter
Originally published October 3, 2005

Crisis on Cliftwood Avenue.

Yvette Eppes and her daughter Keyona were pinned in their bathroom for two hours as their cat scratched and hissed from the other side of the closed door.

Eppes called the city’s animal control department to remove the cat before it mauled them.

Officer Robert Hudnall came to the rescue.

With eight years on the job, Hudnall has sped to his share of stray dogs, fighting pit bulls and opossums wandering through backyards. He also chased a fox that roamed through a Northeast Baltimore neighborhood for nearly two years, retrieved 90 cats from a house in Southeast Baltimore and saved ducks stuck in a sewer drain. The mad cat, named Cookie, didn’t faze him a bit.

What Hudnall is not, he says, is a dogcatcher. His job goes far beyond rounding up stray pets. “It’s just simple. If it’s not human, we deal with it,” he said.

Hudnall is one of the city’s 10 animal control officers, who work rotating shifts to give the city round-the-clock coverage. He wears a blue uniform and a badge similar to that of a police officer, but without the handcuffs and handgun. He relies on a baton, pepper spray, a digital camera and his voice – to soothe the scared animals and command the aggressive ones.

At the Eppeses’ house in Northeast Baltimore, Hudnall got out of his white van and grabbed a cage, a flashlight, an extending pole with a leash and a set of gloves. Inside, he crept down the stairs and into the basement, the last place Cookie had been seen.

Eppes cowered in the kitchen, peering at Hudnall’s shadow as he moved through the basement.

“I’m not going to stay in this house with that cat,” she said. “I’m scared of that thing.”

Cookie darted up the stairs, through the kitchen and into the living room.

“She’s up here,” Eppes shouted.

Hudnall walked upstairs only to see the cat run behind a chair and then back to the basement.

Hudnall went after her and spent several minutes looking in the basement. He spent a half-hour looking behind storage boxes, appliances, cubby holes and other dark crevices.

Finally, he had an idea.

“Place some food or something to lure her out,” he said, calling for other officers to return with a cage to capture the cat later that evening.

Hudnall blotted sweat from his forehead and walked back to his van. He cranked up the radio he keeps tuned to gospel music and reached for a stack of assignments, more than a dozen pages.

“It was kind of different,” he said of the cat call. “They had this cat for four years, and for a cat to become aggressive for some reason, that was shocking. I’ve seen about two other cases like that in my entire career.”

Hudnall said it is his love for animals that keeps him going.

“All of us have a passion for what we do,” he said. “I love what I do. This is like breathing – this is something that I enjoy doing and that I must do.”

Hudnall has a police-like demeanor and a stocky build with a boyish face. The 40-year-old Northeast Baltimore resident was a security officer before joining animal control.

He owns two dogs – one a Rottweiler named Daisy, whom he saved from a public park four years ago.

Animal control officers are supervised by the city Health Department and commissioned by the Police Department, which gives them authority to issue citations, conduct investigations and rescue and confiscate animals. They responded to more than 27,800 cases over the past year.

One incident stands out for Hudnall.

On April 8, 2004, three pit bulls were doused with gasoline and set ablaze after a staged dogfight in the 1600 block of E. Lanvale St. in East Baltimore. The dogs died.

“That is the most horrific call in my career, and I will always remember that, especially when I go in that area and see that vacant dwelling where those animals were put through that suffering,” he said.

On the day Hudnall dealt with Cookie, he also had to contend with a bat flying in an elementary school, a pit bull roaming into a drug store on York Road, a dog attacked by a group of pit bulls, and a dog released to his custody by its elderly owner who could no longer care for it.

Midway through his shift, Hudnall returned to animal control headquarters on Stockholm Street to unload the dogs and the bat.

One by one, he took each dog from the van cages to a large room lined with cages to hold animals.

The pit bull that was brutally attacked by other dogs near the Johns Hopkins medical complex showed little strength when he was found earlier. But now, tail wagging, the dog lifted his head and pulled back on the leash as Hudnall was trying to pull him into the building. Hudnall paused, trying to coax the dog, but no success.

Finally, Hudnall lifted the dog and carried him into the building. The pit bull placed his tail between his legs and began to pant as Hudnall led him through a set of doors and into a steel cage.

The dog was euthanized because of the extent of his injuries.

At the shelter, animals’ health and aggressiveness are evaluated. Strays are kept at the shelter for three days so officials can look for the owner. Animals in good health are given up for adoption or given to a nonprofit animal agency; others meet a different fate.

Hudnall ended his eight-hour shift with a drive through back alleys along North Avenue, looking for strays.

Finding none, he completed his day and turned on the radio.

The next day, Cookie the cat was finally captured in the Cliftwood Avenue house. She was determined to be overly aggressive and was euthanized

Administrator — , 7:38 am

R.I.P. August Wilson

August Wilson was a real playwright. May God continue to bless him.

By J. Wynn Rousuck
Sun theater critic
Originally published October 3, 2005

August Wilson, one of the most accomplished, ambitious and prolific playwrights in the history of the American theater, died yesterday of liver cancer.

The 60-year-old playwright had most recently been working on revisions of Radio Golf, the 10th and final play in his monumental, decade-by-decade series chronicling the African-American experience in the 20th century. The cycle – whose plays garnered two Pulitzer Prizes and a host of other awards – stands as an unprecedented achievement. Only Eugene O’Neill attempted such an undertaking, but he died after completing only two plays in a projected 11-play series.

Mr. Wilson, who revealed in August that he had terminal cancer, died in a hospital in Seattle, according to the Associated Press. A Pittsburgh native, the playwright had lived in Seattle since 1990.

“America can’t afford to lose writers of this caliber because they just don’t come along that often,” said actor Charles S. Dutton, who starred on Broadway in two of Wilson’s plays. “The worst of it is that there were probably 10 more plays, but the best of it is that he promised and delivered.”

Mr. Wilson created his remarkable body of work in slightly more than two decades and went on to see eight of the 10 plays produced on Broadway. Those plays introduced a primarily white Broadway audience to a wide range of African-American experiences by focusing on characters who had rarely been in the limelight – a former Negro Leagues baseball player eking out a living as a garbage collector in Fences; the gypsy cab drivers in Jitney; or the denizens of an early-20th century boarding house in Joe Turner’s Come and Gone.

But if Mr. Wilson’s characters initially seemed ordinary, the playwright revealed their distinctive inner spirits and, most of all, celebrated their abilities as storytellers, as the inheritors of the legacies of African griots. And oh, how his characters could talk! One of the hallmarks of his writing was lengthy, intricately layered monologues that reverberated like blues arias. Indeed, the playwright claimed that his characters spoke to him. “Anything you want to know you ask the characters,” he once said.

James Earl Jones, who won a 1987 Tony Award for portraying the baseball player protagonist of Fences, said, “He observed neighborhoods, people in neighborhoods, and he learned how they talk. I think that is the greatest achievement that he has done – he brought that to his plays, the language of people.”

But Mr. Wilson did more than re-create the language of African-American culture on stage. Mr. Dutton, a Baltimore native whose career was launched in 1984 when he made his Broadway debut in Mr. Wilson’s Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom, explained that while the playwrights’ characters were familiar to him “in the kind of barbershop, street corner, saloon, blues, womanizing, philosophizing way … the scope of their humanity, the width and breadth of their humanity – that belongs solely to the theater.”

Mr. Wilson’s plays tackled immense themes: Responsibility, choice, forgiveness, redemption and especially the importance of recognizing and honoring the past. And his writing habits were as idiosyncratic as his characters. Wherever he was, Mr. Wilson would seek out a coffee shop or bar and jot down ideas and bits of dialogue on napkins or scraps of paper. “I go from place to place to place searching for the play,” he said in a 1987 Sun interview.

He then fashioned these tidbits into plays in a manner similar to the way Romare Bearden – an artist he greatly admired – created collages. The playwright took inspiration from Mr. Bearden’s statement: “I try to explore, in terms of the life I know best, those things which are common to all cultures.”

A high school dropout, Mr. Wilson came to playwriting relatively late. The son of a largely absent white, German-born baker and an African-American mother, he left school at age 15 when a teacher accused him of plagiarizing a paper on Napoleon. He then proceeded to educate himself at the Carnegie Library, which years later awarded him its first and only diploma, an accolade he said he valued more than the many honorary doctorates he also received.

He purchased his first typewriter at age 20 and set about becoming a poet, supporting himself with various jobs, including being a short-order cook. In 1978, he moved to St. Paul, Minn., where he got a job writing plays for the Science Museum of Minnesota. He also began submitting scripts to the Eugene O’Neill Theater Center, a prestigious play-development program in Waterford, Conn. Lloyd Richards, former artistic director of the O’Neill and the director who later staged many of Mr. Wilson’s plays on Broadway, recalled that the O’Neill rejected the playwright’s submissions for five years.

“Once he thought we were wrong, so he resubmitted the same script that we had turned down the year before,” Mr. Richards said from his home in New York. Then Mr. Wilson submitted Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom, and his career was launched. When he read Mr. Wilson’s play about the great blues singer cutting a record in a Chicago studio, Mr. Richards said, “The people were real. I recognized them. … I knew those people, and they moved in the world for me.”

The cycle that began with that play changed American theater. “He’s one of our great playwrights – period – and some of his isolated soliloquies are really poems that can be read separately from the play,” said Irene Lewis, artistic director of Center Stage, which has produced seven of the plays in the cycle and will mount the most recent, Radio Golf, in March.

In the two decades since Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom debuted, Mr. Wilson’s plays helped foster the careers of numerous actors, including Angela Bassett, S. Epatha Merkerson and Courtney B. Vance. Many of his plays also became required reading in schools.

But Mr. Wilson’s views could prompt controversy as well. In 1996, he lambasted the practice of colorblind casting (which holds that actors can play any character regardless of race). This led to a highly publicized debate in New York between the playwright and critic Robert Brustein, who criticized Mr. Wilson’s viewpoint as “dangerous and narrow.”

Last month, after Mr. Wilson announced that he had inoperable cancer, producer Rocco Landesman revealed plans to rename Broadway’s Virginia Theatre in his honor. It will be the first Broadway theater named for an African-American.

Mr. Wilson is survived by his third wife, Constanza Romero, their daughter Azula Carmen, and a daughter from his first marriage, Sakina Ansari, a 1994 graduate of Morgan State University, at whose commencement Mr. Wilson spoke.

August Wilson Plays

August Wilson created a cycle of plays that provide a decade-by-decade chronicle of African-American experience in the 20th century.

1900s: Gem of the Ocean. Wilson’s exploration of the cost of freedom focuses on Aunt Ester, who, at 280+ years old, is a reminder of the slaves who were brought to this country. (Broadway, 2004.)

1910s: Joe Turner’s Come and Gone. A Pittsburgh boarding house serves as a microcosm of black society in this tale of a man searching for the wife who deserted him when he was taken into illegal peonage. (Broadway, 1988; Center Stage, 1989.)

1920s: Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom. The legendary blues singer is cutting a record in a Chicago studio in this look at the early exploitation of black entertainers. (Broadway, 1984; Center Stage, 1990.)

1930s: The Piano Lesson. A brother and sister feud over an heirloom piano in a study of the proper use of a legacy. (Broadway, 1990; Morris A. Mechanic Theatre, 1992; Center Stage, 2001. Pulitzer Prize.)

1940s: Seven Guitars. The funeral of a blues guitarist opens this drama, told in flashback. (Broadway, 1996; Center Stage, 1997.)

1950s: Fences. Wilson’s most traditional domestic drama concerns an embittered former Negro League star and his relationship with his teenage son. (Broadway, 1987; Center Stage, 1993. Pulitzer Prize.)

1960s: Two Trains Running. Changing times and refusing to settle are central themes in this account of a soon-to-be-demolished Pittsburgh diner and its patrons. (Broadway, 1992; Center Stage, 1994.)

1970s: Jitney. Urban renewal resurfaces in the story of a Pittsburgh gypsy cab station, whose owner must contend with his son’s release from the penitentiary. (Off-Broadway, 2000; Center Stage, 1999.)

1980s: King Hedley II. Dealing with a troubled family legacy is the core of this near-Greek tragedy in which an ex-con struggles to support his family. (Broadway, 2001.)

1990s: Radio Golf. A pair of real estate developers are fodder for Wilson’s look at the choice between honoring and rejecting the past before forging the future. (Made its debuted in New Haven, Conn., April; opens at Center Stage in March.)

Administrator — September 28, 2005, 9:14 am

Sex Symbols

Lil Kim

While we’re on Biggie I might as well blog about this convo. I’m in a car with Micki listening to Lil Kim. Don’t point at me, Micki likes the song. So after a few choruses the “Queen Bee” boisterously asserts “the biggest sex symbol since Janet“. So I can be completely wrong here– this is totally based on my opinion and my opinion alone– Micki even disagrees with me– but not only is Lil Kim not the “biggest sex symbol since Janet“– I don’t consider Janet a sex symbol. Note we’re talking about sex symbols from an African-American point of view. Besides looking like a hot surgically enhanced mess most the time, I have other reasons Lil Kim is not a sex symbol.

Now before I get attacked by males and females about basically being blinded and neutered being with the same woman for close to five years– I know what the hell is sexy. Janet is sexy, Lil Kim can be sexy– but a sex symbol I think not. I don’t think making a soda can disappear or whatever lewd and lascivious lyric the “Ill Nana” spout would be the work of a sex symbol. I don’t think flashing your tit to the nation makes you a sex symbol. And also she is still Penny to me. That’s like saying grown up Rudy from the Cosby Show is a sex symbol because of her spread in King. I think a sex symbol exudes sexiness so much that they don’t have to depend on stunts or shock value lyrics to expound on their sexiness. Don’t get me wrong, I’m no prude, I consider Vanessa del Rio one of the biggest sex symbols in the African-American community. If a doc said what do you picture when I say sex, I would say “Vanessa del Rio “, (right after I say Micki of course). That to me is a sex symbol– the key word here being symbol–not object.

Micki disagrees with me: “how can a porn star be a sex symbol”–to me– easy. So I ask her who she thinks is a sex symbol. She replies “what about Halle Berry?” Now remember all of this is based on my opinion and there’s a comment section below, but to me Halle is beautiful, sexy, talented and wacko– not a sex symbol. I don’t know about the next man but Halle isn’t the best candidate to get mojo rising even after that scene in Swordfish. I don’t think it’s a bunch of teenagers running around with a rag and a jar of Vaseline popping in a tape of Monster’s Ball. And as an aside, any woman that beautiful that can’t keep a man– even a lil punk-type one that don”t wear shoes– can’t be that good in bed. If Halle were a sex symbol she would of had Robin Givens’ role in Boomerang.

So she asks me who do I think is a sex symbol. I drew a blank. Then that’s when I realized I was dead wrong. I guess Lil Kim can be a sex symbol to some 13 year old somewhere. To me a sex symbol is somebody that was immediately thought of in those one on none sessions as a puberty going teenager. After 30 years of life and tons of sex, a sex symbol to me is null and void. The hell I need a symbol for now that I have sex?

With that said I would like to announce who I think in my old age (currently 33) whom I’ve considered a sex symbol. In no particular order.

Jane Kennedy

Jayne Kennedy. Man she was so fly. So what she was with that punk dude from the Penitentiary movies but this chick was banging. I didn’t get to see Fun With Dick and Jane until recently. For all those that don’t know Fun With Dick and Jane was a home made porn that Jayne Kennedy and her husband Leon Isaac Kennedy made for their own personal pleasure but Jane reportedly left it in a hotel VCR and it was duplicated and spread to the masses which ruined their perspective careers. The irony here is, in the free loving Seventies that ruined careers, but in the conservative days of today R. Kelly, Paris Hilton, Tommy Lee and Pamela Anderson never skipped a beat in their ongoing success. Too bad I really liked Jayne.

Tina Turner

Tina Turner. Yeah I said it, maybe I’m a leg man but this chick was sexy from the time I was 8 til now. The cheek bones, the legs, the wild hair, the pumps, the singing, the videos, the live shows, the oddly sexy Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome. Tina turner talks sexy– she like scowls and shit. Anybody that tells me Tina turner aint a sex symbol must have a 70 year old wife that looks like Beyonce.

Pam Grier

Pam Grier. Do I have to explain this one? Stevie Wonder can tell you Pam Grier is a sex symbol. I mean for real, tall leggy, the fro, the boobies that popped out always at the right time, the posterior, the tight jeans, the leather, the bath tub scene, the boots, the kicking ass (no pun intended)–come on. Pam Grier is a sex symbol.

So boys and girls, my perception of a sex symbol is probably different than most of yours. There are some sexy celebrities around, including that Ki-Toy chick is sexy but who hit her in the face with some Esther cookies? Vanessa Williams is the baddest chick out there, and since she left Pretty Ricky alone, in my opinion she is flawless. Nonetheless in my eyes sexy only makes you sexable, it doesn’t necessarily make you a sex symbol. What do you think boys and girls?

Appendix I

A friend sent me a recent pic of Jayne Kennedy and I think we’ll have to X her out of sex symbol status. Tina and Pam are still on top of their game at their old age but not poor Jayne.

Administrator — September 27, 2005, 8:02 am

Me and B.I.G.

Biggie Smalls

I found out my boy Ced was cool with Biggie, who had just come home, which came as a surprise to me because Ced aint really roll like that. So Ced said B.I.G. would be by that evening so I decided to stop by. Although I’m a Big fan, I aint want to sweat the dude. So I go over and I’m kinda stand-offish I share here and there, nothing major. He dapped me up and I bounced. The next meeting we bonded and Big was like come back to Brooklyn with me, you gotta meet my squad– you gotta join my squad. I was impressed he dug me so I went back to Brooklyn with him.

We got to his house late in the evening and it wasn’t anything blingish at all, a regular row home in Brooklyn. We go up to his room and it’s messy (he hadn’t been there in over 5 years) just like he left it. It was empty gun magazines everywhere, so I asked him did he have any extra Tec clips, I lost my 48 shot and only had the 36 left. He scuffles through a drawer and a bunch of shoe boxes all full with clips. I thought to myself “where are the guns these clips belong to” but I didn’t really know the dude like that– even though I was in his room it was none of my business. So he gives me a blanket and a pillow and tells me to sleep on the couch. I ask him what about Mom Dukes, he tells me it’s cool.

The next day we were eating around a big table in his backyard, a sort of coming home celebration for B.I.G. He introduced me to a little girl who I played with because I have a daughter her age. B.I.G. didn’t tell me whether it was his daughter or sister but he was very affectionate with her. The girl sat to the left of me at the table and B.I.G. sat to the right, the rest of the family sat around the table. B.I.G. got up to go greet some family members and was in the back by the grill chatting it up with them, when all of a sudden there was a commotion. I run to get his back even though I didn’t have a gun– after that shit in Vegas went down, everybody really missed him. I get to the back and he’s gone. Like *poof– like a cartoon character disappearing or that Mortal Kombat character Smoke. Everyone’s crying and pointing. There’s a shady looking Black guy there with a visible black bulletproof vest under his shirt. I figure this dude had something to do with something or else he wouldn’t have the slugproof on. I approach the dude and he pulls out some hand cuffs. I’m thinking what the hell this dude gonna lock me up for? But he just dangles them in front of me and says: “Do the right thing or else you on your own”. I look towards the entrance to the backyard which is open to the street. There’s an angry Brooklyn mob gathering, folks yelling and pointing.

I tell the cop “naw Dawg you can’t blame this on me”. I think about calling squad up to get me out of this jam– then I realize I’m in NY– 100 miles from home. I try to think do I have any squad in NY that can handle this angry mob, and decide to face the music. I head out of the backyard and the cop drives by in a truck with an open jail cell on the back and says: “Last chance!”. I flag him, he shrugs and shakes his head and drives off, past the angry crowd. I decide to call my girl. The phone rings and rings– no answer then the answer machine comes on: Nina Simone “Trouble Man” plays in the background.

It was all a dream…

Appendix I

Had a dream I said, bout who he said?
Bout B.I.G. I said, that’s big he said
Dig he said, proceed he said
Indeed I said, so – breathe I did
Don’t repeat what I say I said, he said nothin
He agreed with his head, he just nodded like this
What I believe to be a yes I re-peated what was said
It came to me like a .. well as even I said
“You feel playboy,” was the greeting he said
First thing I wanted to know, what’s the reason he was dead?
“More money, more problems, better believe it,” he said
“Careful what you wish for you might receive it,” he said
I see I said, jealousy I said
Got the whole industry mad at me I said
Then B.I. said, “Hov’ remind yourself
nobody built like you, you designed yourself”
I agree I said, my one of a kind self
Get stoned every day like Jesus did
What he said, I said, has been said before
“Just keep doin your thing,” he said, say no more


Appendix II

It was all a dream, I used to read Word Up magazine
Salt’n'Pepa and Heavy D up in the limousine
Hangin pictures on my wall
Every Saturday, “Rap Attack,” Mr. Magic, Marley Marl
I let my tape rock ’til my tape popped
Smokin weed and bamboo, sippin on private stock
Way back, when I had the red and black lumberjack
with the hat to match
Remember Rappin’ Duke? “Duh-ha, duh-ha”
You never thought that hip-hop would take it this far
Now I’m in the limelight cause I rhyme tight
Time to get paid, blow up like the {**”World Trade”**}
Born sinner, the opposite of a winner
Remember when I used to eat sardines for dinner
Peace to Ron G, Brucey B, Kid Capri
Funkmaster Flex, Lovebug Starsky
I’m blowin up like you thought I would
Call the crib, same number same hood, it’s all good
Uhh, and if you don’t know, now you know, nigga


Appendix III

Do not eat the nasty, sloppy pizza from the Midtown Yatch Club in Baltimore before bedtime

Administrator — September 25, 2005, 9:20 pm

Chi Town

We’ve been in Chicago since Thursday, alot to blog about, so stay tuned. I took my laptop but when you’re in a wedding, you are about as busy as the bride and groom. Later.

Administrator — September 21, 2005, 4:19 pm


A truckload of evacuees arrives at the Metairie evacuation center outside New Orleans

an animal hospital after their owners had left town without them

Tif — , 6:43 am

I Really hate People


SEPTEMBER 20–With dead bodies still floating in the streets of New Orleans, a pair of Louisiana lawyers are seeking to cash in on the killer hurricane by slapping the name Katrina on alcoholic beverages. In a new filing with the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office, Andrew Vicknair and Harold Ehrenberg provided federal officials with a logo–reproduced above–bearing the word Katrina, the phrase “Get Blown Away,” and a small satellite image of the deadly storm. The trademark application was filed on September 4, just six days after the hurricane slammed into the Gulf Coast, killing more than 1000 residents and leaving thousands homeless. The filing by Vicknair, 31, and the 47-year-old Ehrenberg–both of whom are graduates of New Orleans-based Loyola University’s law school–does not detail what kind of booze products will bear the Katrina name. But it’s a safe bet that these wannabe profiteers are plotting some variation on The Hurricane, the Bourbon Street staple. According to their trademark application, Vicknair (pictured top left) and Ehrenberg (pictured bottom left) operate from an office in Metarie, Louisiana, a New Orleans suburb that suffered heavy hurricane damages. The property, which apparently was not flooded during the storm, also houses Ehrenberg’s chiropractic office. A beta version of his web site includes a picture of “Dr. Harold” sandwiched between the words “Attorney” and “Chiropractor.” The graphic also includes a series of six roman columns, three of which are actually human spines.

Fucked up thing is if they put it in a forty ounce bottle or on make it any sort of Malt Beverage…

Administrator — September 18, 2005, 11:55 am

Pissed Off

Neighbor\'s Car

I walked outside earlier and my neighbor’s car had four flat tires and a busted back window. So Micki knocks on his door while I chase a little red bird around (I’m a city boy, shit like this amuses me) and the guy says yeah he knows. So we all know what the obvious question here is, so I wait to see if he’s gonna answer before we have to ask, so Micki finally asks him: “Do you know who could of possibly have done this to you?” He says, “No, no idea”. Bullshit Law Dog, if someone takes the time to flatten all of your tires and bust your back window– chances are you know the who the hell did it.

So we walk away and discuss just that when I ask Micki– is it me or was that guy gay? Not that there’s anything wrong with it, but for two years he seemed straight, and Micki adds “Yeah seems gay to me but didn’t he have a wife?” I remember there used to be a couple living there. Hmm. So we have a seemingly gay man formerly very masculine husband whose car gets vandalized and the wife is nowhere to be found. Seems to me either someone found out their husband was gay or someone found out their boyfriend has a wife. Dunno, none of my business.

Administrator — September 15, 2005, 8:25 pm

It Was All a Dream

I walked by Mt. Vernon Park in Baltimore the other day and I saw this construction site:

I almost had an orgasm on the spot. The Taney Statue is gone! But alas I looked a few feet to my left and there it was in all its glory, The Justice Taney statue:

For all of you not in the know, Chief Justice Roger B. Taney was the judge who presided over the infamous Dred Scott case, yes Justice Taney made the “Dred Scott Decision”. As much as I despise Ronald Reagan Airport and J. Edgar Hoover buildings, high schools, etc., this statue upsets me more because I walk by it every day. That construction site was the biggest tease for me ever.

“The Supreme Court held that African Americans, enslaved or free, could not be citizens of the United States. Chief Justice Taney, arguing from the original intentions of the framers of the 1787 Constitution, stated that at the time of the adoption of the Constitution, African American people were considered a subordinate and inferior class of beings, “with no rights which the White man was bound to respect.”

He gets a statue, and you wonder why the Bush’s are fucking heroes.

Appendix I

The church in the background is on the site of the home of Star Spangled Banner “writer” Francis Scott Key. The song was actually adapted from an Irish bar tune.

Appendix II

I think they did move it back, if they plop a Clarence Mitchell statue there and moved Taney back remember you read it here first!

Administrator — , 8:04 am

Every Lie Has a Bit of Truth

Administrator — September 14, 2005, 11:43 am

Martial Law

In the wake of domestic insurgency police have been shooting several people in New Orleans. The Baltimore Sun as well as every newspaper in the nation are covering these stories:

Rescue teams scour New Orleans

Rescue teams searched house to house yesterday for those still living in New Orleans, as the U.S. Health and Human Services secretary estimated that Hurricane Katrina and the flood that followed killed thousands. Violence claimed additional victims when the city police shot and killed five or six people who opened fire on contractors working for the Army Corps of Engineers to repair the main levee breach that flooded much of the city.

Published on Monday, September 5, 2005

© 2005 The Baltimore Sun

The Baltimore Sun also reports on local issues, such as the following:

Expletives, targets on garments said to have potential to incite violence
By Gus G. Sentementes
Sun Staff
Originally published September 7, 2005

T-shirts that Baltimore police union officials worry might incite violence against officers are showing up in a West Baltimore neighborhood after last week’s fatal shooting by police of a man wanted in an armed robbery.
The shirts come in at least three styles and at least two colors, black and white. One shirt says: R.I.P. Rocky [Expletive] the police.” Another shirt has a rendering of a Baltimore police patch covered with red crosshairs and a target.

What the Baltimore Sun did not report on was the police shooting of an unarmed man who was wearing one of these T-shirts. The young man was reportedly shot because his cellphone resembled a gun. What the Baltimore Sun did not also report on was whether the two very adamantly upset officers who hand delivered the T-shirts to the Baltimore Sun, had anything to do with the slaying of an innocent man. Guess that’s not newsworthy.

Appendix I

But, but but, wait it gets worse!

“It causes us great concern because the inference we get is there are people advocating the murder of police officers,” said Fred Roussey, the president of the Fraternal Order of Police.

“If someone’s wearing this shirt and they make an aggressive move toward a police officer, that could run into a deadly force situation,” Roussey said.

So boys and girls, if you wear this shirt the police are going to kill you, get away with it, and the media isn’t going to cover it.

Administrator — September 13, 2005, 1:21 pm

The Boondocks

Click to enlarge

Administrator — , 11:07 am

I Hate People

I may make this a blog cateogory but this is the three reasons why I hate people today:

Random Headlines

1.Bush on Katrina response: ‘I take responsibility’
Tue Sep 13, 2005 12:42 PM ET
WASHINGTON, Sept 13 (Reuters) -
President George W. Bush took responsibility on Tuesday for any failures in the federal government’s response to Hurricane Katrina that struck two weeks ago and acknowledged the storm exposed deficiencies at all levels of government four years after the Sept. 11 attacks.

I take responsibility??? He’s a day late and a dollar short. How would you feel if you were instantly homeless and a corspe was your roomate and the person responsible for insuring your “homeland security” said “oops, my bad”. What the hell is that going to do for you. It’s like the apologizing for slavery thing, thanks pal now where the hell can I cash that in? Is there some coupon I can take and redeem for 400 years of degredation?

which brings me to,

2.Lavish tastes of card-carrying lowlifes
Profiteering ghouls have been using debit cards distributed in the wake of Hurricane Katrina – intended to buy essentials for evacuated families – in luxury-goods stores as far away as Atlanta.

“We’ve seen three of the cards,” said a senior employee of the Louis Vuitton store at the Lenox Square Mall in affluent Buckhead, who asked not to be named. “Two I’m certain have purchased; one actually asked if she could use it in the store. This has been since Saturday.”
Any type of reparation or compensation for any woes should be thoroughly regulated. I mean I’ve purchased shrimp with food stamps in my day, but I wasn’t always the straight and narrow fella I am at this moment. This is just ridiculous, and those in the know have a one word repsonse to this. Yup, go on and say it.

3.GOP Congressman, Rep.Richard Baker of Baton Rouge was overheard telling lobbysits the following, concerning Hurricane Katrina and the damage it caused:

“We finally cleaned up public housing in New Orleans. We couldn’t do it, but God did.”

Back in a previous post (ten random things about me) I mentioned that I believed in justifiable homicide. This is one of them cases.

Administrator — , 9:00 am

New Bush Trick?

I swear if someone brings this up during election time I’m going to smack somebody.

Despite legal limit, Russia weighs 3rd term for Putin
To run, he would need change in constitution
By Erika Niedowski
Sun Foreign Staff

Originally published September 12, 2005
MOSCOW – The governor of Russia’s Novgorod region, northwest of Moscow, cites a bit of American history when talking about Russia’s future leadership, a subject that has come to mean the debate on whether to allow President Vladimir V. Putin to seek election to a third term.
“There was a time in the United States when Mr. Roosevelt was elected four times,” said Gov. Mikhail Prusak, noting that Franklin D. Roosevelt led the country out of the dark days of the Depression. “I admire Americans for what they have done for stability and prosperity.”

But in talking about Putin, Prusak chose to ignore the fact that Russia’s constitution does not allow for more than two consecutive presidential terms.

Constitutions can be changed, as many of Putin’s supporters point out with increasing confidence. Their calls for an amendment that would permit him to remain in office beyond the end of his second term in 2008 are becoming more frequent. After trying to minimize speculation about his intentions, Putin fueled the rumors last month after being asked whether he intended to run again.

“Perhaps I might want to,” he answered during a stop in Helsinki, Finland, “but the constitution does not allow it.”

Many Russians interpreted his remark as a calculated hint of his desire to remain in office and as a shrewd effort to size up public sentiment. And within days, compliant lawmakers proposed a series of measures that would allow him to stay.

Adam Imadaev, a member of a regional parliament in Russia’s Far East, proposed scrapping presidential term limits. Leonid Markelov, president of an independent Russian republic west of the Urals, proposed allowing presidents to serve at least three five- to seven-year terms. Igor Rimmer, a deputy in St. Petersburg’s legislative assembly, more modestly suggested allowing a third four-year term.

“The problem is that Russia is in a transitional period now, and it would be wrong to try to change the ‘vertical of power,’ ” said Rimmer, referring to the tradition of centralized authority. “What Russia needs most of all now is stability. Putin – he personifies stability.”

Putin has likewise in the past pointed to stability as the reason he won’t seek a third term: Only by observing the constitution, he has said, can national stability be assured.

Putin, as the country’s little-known prime minister, became acting president when the ailing President Boris N. Yeltsin abruptly announced his resignation in December 1999. Three months later, Putin won a presidential election. Last year, he easily won a second four-year term, thanks in part to the favorable coverage by the mostly state-controlled TV networks.

While high oil prices have allowed Putin to claim a measure of economic success, he has failed to end a brutal war in Chechnya; the Kremlin also bungled a reduction in pensioners’ benefits, bringing thousands of protesters into the streets of Moscow this year.

There are several scenarios that would allow Putin to remain in power beyond 2008, yet still be true to his word that he won’t serve a third term.

He could support a close ally in the next presidential election, a figure who might then allow him to run the country from behind the scenes. Or Putin could serve as prime minister after orchestrating an executive branch reform to make that post more powerful. Or he could campaign to become president of a proposed new state resulting from the union of Russia and neighboring Belarus.

“There is not a single one that is risk-free,” Masha Lipman, an analyst with the Moscow Carnegie Center, said of the possible courses of action, “and I don’t think there is a single one that would keep the legitimacy of the institution.”

Putin’s supporters make this argument: Ensuring democracy in the long term requires stepping beyond its boundaries now.

Putin hasn’t had sufficient time, their argument goes, to carry out reforms. Nor, his supporters say, does Russia have the stable institutions to support the democratic principles enshrined in the constitution.

“I am very much afraid that our patriots will elect a new president and we’ll have a pro-[nationalist] leader, which will mean a totalitarian regime in this country,” said Prusak, the governor of Novgorod. “That is why I said I would very much like Putin to stay for a third term – so that he could strengthen democracy.”

Critics say that Putin isn’t a Western-style democrat and that attempts to keep him in power should be seen as the forward march of authoritarianism by a Kremlin determined to tighten its grip on every part of Russian society. The so-called siloviki – the network of Kremlin appointees with ties to the military and KGB – will thereby bolster their own influence.

“I think President Putin will secure a third term simply because this is the authorities’ logic,” Yuliya Latynina, a political commentator and radio-show host, told Nezavisimaya Gazeta last month. “Power in Russia is in essence authoritarian, and there are no other ways to hand over power.”

There are precedents in other former Soviet republics for short-circuiting democracy: In 1999, the rubber-stamp parliament of Turkmenistan, in Central Asia, elevated Saparmyrat Niyazov to the rank of president-for-life. Last year, Belarus amended its constitution in a referendum, allowing President Alexander Lukashenko to run for a once-prohibited third term. Lukashenko hailed the vote as a victory for the people, while the opposition called the result a sham.

In a recent poll by the Russian research firm ROMIR Monitoring, 60 percent of the people surveyed said they wanted Putin to remain Russia’s leader after 2008. Asked whom they would support if he were not running for president, two-thirds could think of no other candidate; his closest competitor won support from 4 percent of those polled. But only 28 percent said they favored amending the constitution to allow Putin to run.

Amending the constitution requires either a referendum supported by more than half of all registered voters, or the approval by both houses of Russia’s parliament as well as all its regional governments. Putin is believed to have the parliamentary support needed to make the change.

When Rimmer introduced his amendment in St. Petersburg, Putin’s hometown, it won a less than enthusiastic reception – but not because lawmakers objected to its content. They don’t want to endorse any plan until they learn which one the Kremlin supports.

“They said, ‘Thank you very much, but let’s wait until the Kremlin will decide,” said Rimmer, whose proposal is now on hold.

Imadaev, the regional parliament member in Russia’s Far East, maintains he wants only to correct a fundamental contradiction in the law. The constitution grants Russian citizens the right to elect and be elected to state governmental bodies, unless they are “legally unfit.” Yet the document also prohibits the president from running for more than two consecutive terms.

“You call it an attempt to amend the constitution,” said Imadaev. “We call it an attempt to observe the civil rights of Russian citizens.”

Administrator — September 12, 2005, 12:44 pm

Opie Joins The Taliban


So the guy on the tape threatening to blow up Austrailia and California is a white dude from California? Okie Dokie Opie

Australia, L.A. targeted on videotape
Suspected al-Qaida figure from U.S. issues threats
Associated Press
Originally published September 12, 2005
— A tape delivered to ABC News in Pakistan over the weekend features a masked man threatening Los Angeles and Australia.
ABC News reported that the man is believed to be Adam Yahiye Gadahn, an American from California purported to be an al-Qaida member and wanted by the FBI. The CIA said yesterday that it was aware of the report but had no immediate comment about the tape’s authenticity.

Counterterrorism officials believe Gadahn also may be the person on a 75-minute video given to ABC News last year in Pakistan.

The latest tape was aired on ABC’s Good Morning America yesterday, the fourth anniversary of the Sept. 11 attacks. The man on the tape, wearing a black turban with most of his face covered, calls the attacks of four years ago “blessed events” before making a threat against the U.S.

“Yesterday, London and Madrid. Tomorrow, Los Angeles and Melbourne, Allah willing. And this time, don’t count on us demonstrating restraint and compassion,” the man says during the 11-minute tape.

The man on the tape goes on to call President Bush and British Prime Minister Tony Blair “liars” and issues a warning.

“We love peace, but when the enemy violates that peace or prevents us from achieving it, then we love nothing better than the heat of battle, the echo of explosions, and slitting the throats of the infidels,” he says.

In a joint statement, Los Angeles Mayor Antonio Villaraigosa and police Chief William Bratton said authorities knew of no specific, credible threat to the city and that they had discussed the tape with FBI and Department of Homeland Security officials.

Investigators have said Gadahn, who grew up on a farm in California, converted to Islam as a teen, moved to Pakistan, attended al-Qaida training camps and served as a translator for the organization.

Gadahn’s aunt, Nancy Pearlman, said that she had seen news coverage of the video but that the family had no comment.

Last year Philip Gadahn said he was baffled by the allegation that his son was an al-Qaida operative, saying he has spoken to his son only occasionally but couldn’t imagine that he would be involved with the network.

I didn’t see the tape, did they have the close captioned thing translating dudes English like they do the Middle Eastern Terrorist?

“Yesterday, London and Madrid. Tomorrow, Los Angeles and Melbourne, Allah willing. And this time, don’t count on us demonstrating restraint and compassion,” the man says during the 11-minute tape.

caption:”Yesterday, England and Spain. Tomorrow, Compton and Austrailia, If God says so. And this time, it’s gonna be narley!”

Administrator — , 6:02 am

Illegal Search & Seizure

Although I don’t condone any criminal act, I do believe in the Bill of Rights, namingly the right against illegal search and seizure and the right to arm and keep bears (that would be fun).

From The Baltimore Sun

Story didn’t add up
A week earlier, Circuit Judge Thomas E. Noel made a similar decision because he said another officer’s story about how he pulled a loaded weapon off a convicted felon did not make sense.
Brian Tiller said he and his girlfriend had been parked at Pimlico Road and Woodland Avenue when an unmarked police car swooped in to block him.
Plainclothes officers approached with eapons drawn, he said in court testimony. Tiller was carrying a fully loaded .22-caliber gun in his pocket, but Tiller’s lawyer said they had no right to search him.
The officer said he saw a woman run to Tiller’s car and that he approached to ask what was going on. Tiller replied, according to the officer, that he was driving an illegal cab and had a loaded gun on him.
Noel didn’t believe that a convicted felon would volunteer information that he was doing something illegal and carrying a loaded weapon, said attorneys on both sides of the case.

Administrator — September 10, 2005, 7:04 pm


Martial Law

We were having breakfast at a cafe this morning and about ten cop cars flew by sirens a-blazing. So I go outside and rubberneck with everyone else. Nada. Maybe we should send these guys to N.O. This is what the scene looked like 10 minutes later.

Martial Law

Administrator — , 3:17 pm

How Many Times Was 50 Shot?

50 cent police report
Just out of curiosity how many times was 50 shot, this police report found on says three times while he boasts 9. I’m not saying it’s inaccurate, the man should know how many holes he has in his ass, I just know you can never get an accurate count of how many times someone was shot in the hood, remember my first blog.

Administrator — , 1:33 pm

Sears Announces Black CEO


Sears Holdings Ousts Chief Lacy, Names Aylwin Lewis
By Lauren Coleman-Lochner

Sept. 8 (Bloomberg) – Sears Holdings Corp., the largest U.S. department-store chain, ousted Chief Executive Alan Lacy and named Aylwin Lewis to succeed him after comparable sales at Sears and Kmart stores fell.

Lewis, 51, has been CEO of Kmart Holding Corp. since October and will primarily run the company’s 3,900 stores. Chairman Edward Lampert, who engineered Kmart’s $12.3 billion acquisition of Sears, Roebuck & Co. this year, will take over marketing, merchandising, design and the Internet business, the company said in a statement today.

Lampert is shifting management and taking more day-to-day control of the company as same-store sales at Sears fell 7.4 percent and 0.3 percent at Kmart, indicating his strategy of combining the two retail giants is struggling.

“It’s a really good move” to change management, said Richard Hastings, a senior retail analyst at New York-based Bernard Sands LLC. “I think Lewis has the better handle on how to make a customer-centric business. Lewis is much closer to the way they want to do things. It’s welcome and no surprise.”

Lacy, 51, will stay on as a director and vice chairman, the company said.

Sears, based in Hoffman Estates, Illinois, today reported net income rose 4.5 percent, lifted by apparel sales and new Sears Essentials stores. Lampert converted 32 former Kmarts into Sears Essentials stores, a new format which mixes food, apparel and general merchandise.

Gross Margin

Gross margin improved as the company added exclusive apparel brands and household goods by designer Ty Pennington. The company also benefited by consolidating operations.

Net income rose to $161 million, or 98 cents a share, in the company’s first full quarter following Kmart’s purchase of Sears, Roebuck. Sales in the period ended July 30 surged to $13.2 billion.

“Neither one of them by themselves was a very good retailer,” said Todd Jones, an analyst at Philadelphia-based PNC Advisors, which has $50 billion in assets. “I don’t see how putting those two retailers together makes them any better.”

Sears said had $42 million in restructuring costs in the second quarter to eliminate or relocate 1,435 Kmart jobs. Gross margin of the combined company widened to 27.2 percent from Kmart’s 24.8 percent a year ago, helped by the addition of Sears’s more profitable apparel, the company said.


Shares of Sears rose $1.63, or 1.2 percent, to $134.85 at 4 p.m. in Nasdaq Stock Market composite trading yesterday. They have soared more than fourfold in the past two years as Lampert, 43, sold real estate to retailers including Home Depot Inc. and bought Sears Roebuck for $12.3 billion.

Sales at stores open a year have declined for 13 straight quarters at Kmart and 15 of the last 17 quarters at Sears as the retailers lost shoppers to rivals like Minneapolis-based Target Corp. and J.C. Penney Co. Target’s second-quarter same-store sales jumped 6.7 percent and Penney’s increased 4.2 percent.

Sears has also been hurt by weak apparel sales of merchandise from Lands’ End, which it bought for $1.9 billion in 2002.

“The two weak links in the store are apparel and consumer electronics,” Credit Suisse First Boston analyst Gary Balter wrote in July after visiting several Sears and Kmart stores. “One could have had a nice nap in the consumer electronics section given the light traffic. Conversely, appliances were buzzing.”

Sears Holdings in June posted a $9 million loss in its first quarter. Lampert has said he’s also considering other investments to boost the company’s performance.

Designer Apparel

As the two companies merge, corporate costs will likely decline, making expense savings of 3 percentage points “quite doable,” Balter wrote.

Sears Holdings is adding fashionable apparel and private brands, including three new lines introduced last week: Belongings, c.l.o.t.h.e.s and Latina Life. Liz Claiborne Inc. designed the Belongings brand and Jones Apparel Group Inc. designed c.l.o.t.h.e.s and Latina Life.

Its remodeled stores, named Sears Grand and Sears Essentials, will be mostly located in more affluent areas and outside of malls to make them more convenient for shoppers. Sears Holdings Chief Executive Alan Lacy, 51, expects to open 50 Sears Essentials stores by the end of 2005.

The acquisition also enables Sears and Kmart to share private brands, such as Kmart’s Thalia Sodi clothing and Martha Stewart linens and Sears’s Craftsman tools and Kenmore appliances.

Lands’ End

Sears last month said Lands’ End Chief Executive Mindy Meads left the company and that senior vice president David McCreight will be her interim replacement. Meads joined Lands’ End in 1991 and was named its chief executive in January 2004. McCreight, 42, is a former Walt Disney Co. executive hired by Lands’ End in December 2003 to run the men’s, specialty apparel and footwear divisions.

Sears Holdings in April fired 850 workers at its headquarters in Illinois and at Kmart’s former headquarters in Troy, Michigan. It later said an additional 1,400 would be fired or relocated to headquarters or to a transactions processing center in Dallas.

Of the seven analysts tracked by Bloomberg, three rate the stock “buy,” two “hold” and one says “sell.”

To contact the reporter on this story:
Lauren Coleman-Lochner in New York at
Last Updated: September 8, 2005 08:12 EDT

Administrator — September 8, 2005, 8:02 pm

Freedom to Impeach


I’ve been blessed in life despite the few bad episodes you may have read here, blessed in that I’ve avoided death and prison whilst flirting with it for over 20 years. When I was first invited to start this blog, I boldly said “If i start a blog I will be locked up within a week”. It’s been a month and thank God no arrests, but last night I had a blog in mind, sat down started the draft– even talked about it with two close friends. It never was posted because I got drunk, tired and went to sleep. Good old alcohol. Saved me from the big house. This guy was less fortunate, he should of just been content with singing “The Reasons”.

College Student’s Bush Comments Prompt Federal Probe
Kentucky Man Could Face Threatening Charge

POSTED: 8:57 am EDT September 8, 2005
UPDATED: 2:13 pm EDT September 8, 2005

LOUISVILLE, Ky. — A college student in Kentucky may face a federal charge of threatening the president of the United States for remarks he posted on a Web site.

The controversy stems from comments made by University of Louisville student Phillip Bailey, 21, on a Web site message board, Louisville television station WLKY reported Wednesday.

Bailey is chairman of the University of Louisville Student Non-violent Coordinating Committee. He said he posted a message on a Web site in response to someone else who suggested that looters in New Orleans should be shot.

Bailey wrote that many people were simply trying to find necessities to stay alive. In his response, Bailey wrote that families stranded by the storm should take anything needed to stay alive, adding, “shoot every cop, National Guard (member) and politician who stands in your way, including George W. Bush, if need be.”

“I still stand by those statements,” Bailey said Wednesday. “Because of the context, that conversation fits in perfectly with the response, too.”

Bailey was talking about his response on a message board for a Web site called, created by black students as part of an independent newspaper, WLKY reported. Writing about the situation in New Orleans, there was a post called “Animals In New Orleans.”

The writer talked about what he called the transformation of poor blacks in New Orleans and Mississippi into primitive, ruthless animals, and went on to write, “if we shoot some of those scumbags, most of the looting would subside.”

In Bailey’s response, entitled “Devils In Washington, D.C.,” he wrote that looting is a matter of survival.

“The statement is not a call to violence,” he told WLKY. “It’s a call for survival.”

But federal investigators may not see it that way. On Tuesday, a Secret Service agent interviewed Bailey, and a spokesman for that agency said Bailey could face a federal charge of threatening the president.

It’s now up to the U.S. attorney’s office to decide whether Bailey should be charged with making threats against the president. He could get a 5-year sentence, if convicted.

“I think this just shows how far to the right this conversation has gotten, and how far to the right this country has gotten, to take it to this extremity,” Bailey said.

Ricky Jones — the chairman of the University of Louisville’s Pan-African Studies program, and Bailey’s mentor — stands behind his student.

“I have no problem with what he said, and we welcome any investigation that is very public,” Jones said. “I think these are intimidation tactics and moves made by extreme political ideologies to suppress free speech in this country.”

Bailey and Jones each are slated to speak at a forum to promote non-violence at a Louisville-area church this month.

“The conversation is about police officers keeping people from getting food and water, and basic living necessities,” Bailey said.

Local activist Christopher 2X, also scheduled to speak at the forum, said Bailey might want to reconsider his words before he speaks publicly again, WLKY reported.

“He didn’t take into consideration how to master any rage he might have felt from the comment, and that’s very unfortunate,” 2X said.

Appendix I

I find it ironic PLEASE NOTE MY PUNK ASS IS NOT SUGGESTING PUBLICLY THAT THIS OCCUR that kill George Bush and shoot George Bush result in no Google news results. Things that make you say hmm…

Administrator — , 5:05 pm

Beware of Geeks Buying Gifts


So we’re apartment hunting. We were house shopping but my credit wasn’t good enough then my credit to debt ratio was, then it wasn’t, in the end it was but I said fuck it, I’ll buy when I’m good and ready and when I learn to save money, stay home and not blow hundreds of dollars a night in the local bars and desire shit I don’t need like a Segway or a Heckler & Koch (and sell the other expensive machinery I own). The place we live in is fabulous, yet it has gone from under $700 a month to over $2000 a month in the past three years. Over $2000 a month on something you don’t own is outrageous, so an apartment it is. So our requirements are at least two bedrooms, two levels, at least 1.5 baths and somewhere to bbq- (deck/balcony)- downtown. We’ve searched high and low and cannot fulfill all of our requirements, each place we went to lacked at least one of our amenities. We found the ultimate spot for the ultimate price, this place was four levels, had a 6 person Jacuzzi, a sauna (not sure if it worked), at least three bathrooms, exposed brick, spiral staircase, sky lights, everything, and it was fully furnished. Something inside me just said no– something is wrong somewhere in Denmark. Maybe it’s from growing up poor and never having shit good ever happen that wasn’t disguised in some way by something beautiful. But hell this has nothing to do with race and poverty, an extremely super gorgeous in every way physically woman, to me– there’s something wrong with her– look at Halle Berry– she couldn’t keep a pansy like Eric Benet. I mean I lucked up and have an extremely gorgeous, intelligent, woman who can actually do shit with her hands (I can’t), but she’s from Tennessee and can’t cook. I mean it works out– she builds shit in the house and puts shit together and I toss on the apron. But with the house– what is that certain something that’s it’s lacking. It has three beds and a futon in it– is it a pervert watching our every move like Real World cameras up in that piece or something? Or is it haunted? So, I’m weary of the house- it’s too good to be true, I wonder what it lacks, always beware of gorgeous gifts. And thus, the hunt continues…

Actual Picture

Appendix I

OK, I jump in a cab head North, the irony is this cab drive was less than this one and I went twice the distance. I get to this beautiful neighborhood, I mean beautiful, parks, mansions, condos, row homes, and this building. My appointment was to see a two bedroom, two bath split level apt. I get to the door to get buzzed in and it’s maybe 12 or thirteen notes taped to the wall: “Fedex/UPS give my packages to the drug store across the st.” “give mine to Lucy in the flower shop”, “don’t leave my shit in this vestibule”. I should of turned around but an appointment is an appointment.

I get buzzed in and I go downstairs to the rental office to meet the young lady. She tells me that the tenant just moved out in August so they haven’t made any renovations yet. I look at my wrist–does anybody besides me do that like it’s a calendar on there like it’s the emmin-effin 9th, but OK, whatever. We get in and she gives the caveat, “this was not one of our good tenants”. There are “types” of tenants–noted. So she opens the door let’s me in and stands in the doorway squinching her arms together close to her body, but not tying to be obvious about it. I go in and oh hell is fubarred, the carpet, which she explained would be replaced, looked like pavement, not the pavement outside the building in this nice neighborhood but pavement say in front of the courthouse.

me: [looking in the kitchen]does it have a dishwasher?
rental agent: yup
me: where? master bedroom?
rental agent: [refusing to budge] it’s in there
me: where?
rental agent: next to the stove

O.K. she’s right, there happens to be a foot wide object next to the stove that could of possibly — in some third world countries– be called an appliance. Wow, I wanted to pick it up and take it to the office because our coffee pot gets mighty stained. I actually think I could of gaffled that dishwasher, let her walk me out, shake her hand, with her being totally oblivious I had a dishwasher down my pants. So I look around the living room and decide to go upstairs–why not. So the upstairs had two bedrooms as publicized in the ad, they weren’t big or small but they had been lived in– by what it looks like some squatters. Like some homeless person killed a couple took their keys and belongings, looked at their address and decided to move in.

So I’m ready to go, she has two units to show me, I have to get back downtown to work, I don’t want to be rude so I figure I’d lap the next apartment and leave. On my way out of the first apartment I remember my amenity list and inquire about the washer and dryer. Now we currently have the smallest washer/dryer unit I ever saw, we get about three pairs of drawlz and a bra in each cycle. Check that, the second smallest washer/dryer unit I ever saw. Because this unit, I could of gaffled walked out, shook hands… down my pants–you know the drill.

She insisted on showing me the second unit which would be lived in until November. She knocked and another young lady– who apparently didn’t live there answered the door. This apartment had hardwood floors and looked well kept, African art everywhere. The young lady said that the owner was in the shower he would be out shortly and that we could look around. I glanced in the guest bathroom and I see some female belongings and I think “way to go main man –get that booty”. I hear a tingling sound and everything gets blurry, I get dreary eyed and remembering when I first had combs and hair in my sink and how I didn’t mind because I just got– “Sir, we can look at the upstairs in a few minutes the current tenant is in the shower”. I say no problem, I don’t need to see the upstairs.

As we depart my snobby ass was going to go on a rant much like this one, pull the washing machine and dishwasher out my pants and do the “nah,nan,na,na-na” dance etc. etc., but I decided not to, if you haven’t noticed I’m a very critical person and I’m trying to change my ways. As I went to shake her hand and exit she mentioned that she was going my way, she had to check her mail. She lived there. I wanted to give her one of those “it’s gonna be arright baby” hugs. So the quest for higher living continues. *sigh

Appendix II

O.K. still looking. I have an appointment at a place seven blocks up from where we are now yet on the same street I lived on two years ago, not the same hundred, but the same named street. The funny thing about it Micki mentioned a place in the same block last week and I scoffed at her. So in desperation I decide to try it, no harm no foul. So we had breakfast at XS Cafe and time was running out, so I decided to choke down my food and go see the appointment and call Micki if the place was worth seeing. I leave the swank restaurant and as I head north it gets worse and worse. So I enter the block and immediatelyI’m like hell naw! It was some bros. on the other side of the street, one yelled like he knew who I was, I didn’t recognize him, I really can’t see– and I don’t remember faces so I just replied “yo, what up dawg” and kept moving. I see where the apartment is and you know me and holding appointments so I decide to humor the landlord. I ring all the bells– no answer–great I’m out. This ends this story besides the crackhead below chilling on the corner with two homeboys africanus. I took pictures of her, not of them, I aint no punk but I also aint no fool.

Administrator — , 6:12 am

Can’t You Keep Your Bullshit on the Chittlin Play Circuit?

The Gospel, a contemporary drama about love and redemption set in the world of gospel music and the African-American church. Live it; as Boris Kodjoe, Idris Elba, Nona Gaye, Tamyra, Clifton Powell, Omar Gooding, Keisha Knight Pulliam, Donnie McClurkin, Hezekiah Walker, Kirk Franklin, Yolanda Adams, Martha Munizzi and Mom Winans light up the screen.

Got the nerve to have some good actors in it, *sigh

Administrator — , 6:06 am

Microsoft CEO’s Murderous Plan

Microsoft CEO Steve Ballmer Vowed to “KILL” Google

News Published: September 2, 2005, 1:07 PM PDT
Reprinted From CNET – Written by Ina Fried

—– —- — — – -
Microsoft CEO Steve Ballmer vowed to “kill” Google in an
expletitive-laced, chair-throwing tirade when a senior
engineer told him he was leaving the company to go work
for Google, the engineer claimed in court documents made
public on Friday.

In a sworn statement made public Friday, Mark Lucovsky,
another Microsoft senior engineer who left for Google in
November 2004, recounted Ballmer’s angry reaction when
Lucovsky told Ballmer he was going to work for the search
engine company.

“At some point in the conversation, Mr. Ballmer said:
‘Just tell me it’s not Google,’”Lucovosky said in his
statement. Lucovosky replied that he was joining Google.

“At that point, Mr. Ballmer picked up a chair and threw it
across the room hitting a table in his office,” Lucovosky
recounted, adding that Ballmer then launched into a tirade
about Google CEO Eric Schmidt. “I’m going to f***ing bury
that guy, I have done it before, and I will do it again.
I’m going to f***ing kill Google.” Schmidt previously
worked for Sun Microsystems and was the CEO of Novell.



Administrator — September 7, 2005, 8:39 pm

Two Bush’s in My Hand…

I don’t even want to speak on this, shit I’m Muslim and that entire treason, Patriot Act shit, I’m just gonna repost.

From the Humanity Critic
The other day, as Barbara Bush, mother of George W. Bush, visited Houston where many evacuees are in the Superdome, she said the following:

“Everyone is so overwhelmed by the hospitality. And so many of the people in the arena here, you know, were underprivileged anyway, so this, this is working very well for them.”

What in the is hell is her crazy ass talking about? What, since they are poor they should be content with sleeping on uncomfortable cots, hear crying children continuously, have the horror of many loved ones that are missing or confirmed dead on their mind, and having your home destroyed and seeing dead bodies floating around is a step up? Is that what you are saying Mrs. Bush?? She’s nuttier than squirrel shit. She also said the following:

“Almost everyone I’ve talked to says ‘we’re going to move to Houston, What I’m hearing, which is sort of scary, is they all want to stay in Texas.”

Yep, I bet a bunch of black folks would just scare the fuck out of you, you miserable bastard. “Return of the Living refugees” definitely sounds like a horror movie to George W. Bush and his inept administration. But statements like that is what gives Kanye’s rant about Bush not “caring about black people” some weight. I know that we should respect out elders, and I shouldn’t do this, but FUCK YOU Barbara Bush for letting us know how you and people of your ilk actually feel. FUCK YOU to all those conservative bloggers who thought that Kanye’s statements were as ridiculous as a Bigfoot sighting, shit I’m still waiting on all you “compassionate conservatives” to explain Bush gutting FEMA, hiring two incompetent cronies to run it, and his Forrest Gump-like response to this tragedy. I also, while wearing a public enemy t-shirt and standing in my best B-Boy stance, want to say FUCK YOU to all those spineless, black-face wearing, stepin fetchit, house negro ass black republicans out there who apologize for Bush with the worst watermelon grins on their faces.

(Camera Crew pans in close to HumanityCritic ala Jerry Springer’s “Final Thought” moment)

You know folks, I kind of feel sorry for Black republicans because you are running out of excuses to why you are one. You can’t claim the whole “less government” argument because that flew out the window with this administration. Being against Affirmative Action is cute and everything, but being that Condi Rice and Clarence Thomas, two people against it, are beneficiaries of it kind of weaken your argument.(Colin Powell even said that he benefited from it, and is for it.) You didn’t want to be a “tax and spend” liberal, OK, because now your dumb ass is a “tax and spend” conservative because the actions of this administration.

I always think that black conservatives were abused, the same way you find out that a hooker was abused as a child, explaining a lot about the woman that she became, because there has to be some explanation to why you love someone that doesn’t give a fuck about you. Did other black kids call you “Ugly” as a child? Seriously, you can tell me..

Appendix I

Aaron Neville daughter on being a victim of Katrina’s wrath and Bush’s apathy.

Administrator — , 6:38 am

I don’t make this shit up

Manager: I need a full years data pull from the [prehistoric] database!
me: I’m the Windows guy remember?
Manager: I have a meeting with the VP of Marketing & Advertising and I need the data now!
I scramble to get the report remembering code I learned in the 80′s
Manager: thanks this is what I need!

In walks mainframe programmer
Mainframe Guy: What’s going on?
Manager: I needed help ASAP and you were nowhere to be found
Mainframe Guy: Yeah call me FEMA


Mainframe Guy: my teenage daughter has a problem at school, some girl wants to get her beat up, so I go to the school this morning, I see the girl, and start fussing at her when her parents gets out the car, I totally ignore them, and I tell the little heffa, If anything happens to my daughter I’m going to whip his ass [pointing at her father] I don’t think she’ll have any problems.

Administrator — , 6:08 am

Not to beat a dead whore, but damn!

From: DirectNIC’s blog

The Real News
The following is the result of an interview I just conducted via cell phone with a New Orleans citizen stranded at the Convention Center. I don’t know what you’re hearing in the mainstream media or in the press conferences from the city and state officials, but here is the truth:

“Bigfoot” is a bar manager and DJ on Bourbon Street, and is a local personality and icon in the city. He is a lifelong resident of the city, born and raised. He rode out the storm itself in the Iberville Projects because he knew he would be above any flood waters. Here is his story as told to me moments ago. I took notes while he talked and then I asked some questions:

Three days ago, police and national guard troops told citizens to head toward the Crescent City Connection Bridge to await transportation out of the area. The citizens trekked over to the Convention Center and waited for the buses which they were told would take them to Houston or Alabama or somewhere else, out of this area.

It’s been 3 days, and the buses have yet to appear.

Although obviously he has no exact count, he estimates more than 10,000 people are packed into and around and outside the convention center still waiting for the buses. They had no food, no water, and no medicine for the last three days, until today, when the National Guard drove over the bridge above them, and tossed out supplies over the side crashing down to the ground below. Much of the supplies were destroyed from the drop. Many people tried to catch the supplies to protect them before they hit the ground. Some offered to walk all the way around up the bridge and bring the supplies down, but any attempt to approach the police or national guard resulted in weapons being aimed at them.
them before they hit the ground. Some offered to walk all the way around up the bridge and bring the supplies down, but any attempt to approach the police or national guard resulted in weapons being aimed at them.

There are many infants and elderly people among them, as well as many people who were injured jumping out of windows to escape flood water and the like — all of them in dire straights.

Any attempt to flag down police results in being told to get away at gunpoint. Hour after hour they watch buses pass by filled with people from other areas. Tensions are very high, and there has been at least one murder and several fights. 8 or 9 dead people have been stored in a freezer in the area, and 2 of these dead people are kids.

The people are so desperate that they’re doing anything they can think of to impress the authorities enough to bring some buses. These things include standing in single file lines with the eldery in front, women and children next; sweeping up the area and cleaning the windows and anything else that would show the people are not barbarians.

The buses never stop.

Before the supplies were pitched off the bridge today, people had to break into buildings in the area to try to find food and water for their families. There was not enough. This spurred many families to break into cars to try to escape the city. There was no police response to the auto thefts until the mob reached the rich area — Saulet Condos — once they tried to get cars from there… well then the whole swat teams began showing up with rifles pointed. Snipers got on the roof and told people to get back.

He reports that the conditions are horrendous. Heat, mosquitoes and utter misery. The smell, he says, is “horrific.”

He says it’s the slowest mandatory evacuation ever, and he wants to know why they were told to go to the Convention Center area in the first place; furthermore, he reports that many of them with cell phones have contacts willing to come rescue them, but people are not being allowed through to pick them up.

Addendum: Bigfoot just called to report that “they” (the authorities) are cleaning up the dead bodies at the Convention Center right now.

Administrator — September 6, 2005, 12:41 pm

The Plain Truth

“I call it the beautiful struggle. Even though we didn’t have the best family environment, we were loved people. Being on welfare with a parent on drugs, growing up in Little Haiti taught me independence.”

Rapper Smitty on his childhood in Miami.

Administrator — , 11:40 am

Utter Stupidity

I got this at the Doan Mind Me blog and I have to share his sentiment.

“Well I think we’re all going to hell in a handbasket now.”

Students Allowed To Curse At Their Teachers

August 30, 2005 12:00 p.m. EST

Hector Duarte Jr. – All Headline News Staff Reporter

London, England (AHN) – A British secondary school is breaking ground by allowing its students to curse at their teachers. The catch? It cannot be done more than five times a lesson.

A count of how many times the F-word is used will be kept on a blackboard. If a class goes over the limit, it will be “spoken to” at the end of the lesson.

The controversial policy, which the school hopes will improve the behavior of pupils, was lambasted by parents’ groups yesterday, warning it would backfire.

Parents were notified of the plan, which starts when the school term begins next week, in a letter from the Weavers School in Wellingborough, Northamptonshire.

What more can I say.

posted by Jdid