Helicopter Are Invading The Burbs

Some time ago, I was involved in a great relationship, with a woman I will call TK. Or kitten I guess, thunder kitten is her name. When we first started dating we hit it off immediately. I was pretty much in awe of her. She had some idiosyncrasies, all of which I found to be cute. We were pretty much the same person really. The only difference was that she was in college, and I say fuck education. Not really, I just had to find a difference between us. Oh, I know what the difference was, we both had cars, but her license was the only one that worked. She is a very smart gal, the type of woman you hate to get in an argument with, because she always used those damned SAT words. A typical argument would be;

Me: “Why would you do some shit like that?

TK: “Why would I substantiate the obviousness of your obloquy about something
that is so much bullshit that I cannot fathom to even bring myself to exculpate
you this evening.”

And of course I would be upset hearing this, not only because I didn’t know what the hell it meant, but I was sure that meant no sex that evening. Evening, was the word I definitely understood. And the evenings were great. Her sex was like sprinkles of heaven at times. However, I always had a witty comeback to getting told off in such a manner;

Me: “Ya momma!”

Damnit, I’m smart too. But they weren’t ever really bad, and even if they were I don’t remember. However, there will always be a night that lives in infamy.

Sometimes, I would stay for the weekend, or stay for a night or whatever. She is an incredibly hard sleeper. I don’t know what I was doing on this night, I was either on the computer, or watching a dvd. She was sleeping, looking like an angel, and I was trying my best to fall asleep. I don’t know why, I just had some trouble falling asleep there. I am guessing it was because of the central air or something. Or maybe I needed a drink to take the edge off. But I am pretty sure it was that I didn’t bust a nut or something. Nothing says goodnight like a date with Pamela Handerson.

But, this night was different; she was tired from school or whatever, and looked oh so pretty laying there. Snoring, flopping around the bed, like a conformist on a Sunday morning at church. Now that I think of it, I was reading a book, in the little light I had to work with, the book was called Tuff. Good book, and I was pretty much into it. All of a sudden, I hear a motor cycle, loud as fuck outside. I was pissed off, it was maybe 2 in the morning, and this was a little cull de sac in the almost suburbs.

I jumped up, and went right to the window, to look to see just who the hell would be revving up their bike like that, this time of night. The nerve of these fuckers. They were about to wake up my sweet boo. I look out the window, but by that time the motor cycle was gone. And I was a hot head, I wanted to throw a brick at the rider of the bike. Or something. Since I didn’t see them, I went and sat back down, and began to read again. This time I was closer to the window, just in case the fucker came back.

Then I hear it again, but this time I was at the window, and I didn’t see shit. So I am now like, this is fucked up that a helicopter is hovering around this area this time of night. It was so loud. I mean the sound shook the whole house it seemed like. The computer monitor moved a little to the left. The cup of pennies she had on her dresser rattled. I was concerned with this, like, what if the shit landed in the middle of the complex. That would be crazy. The sound was unbearable at that ungodly hour.

PLLLLLLLLLLBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBB!!!!!!!

It sounded like a giant 30 foot Cyclops put his tongue between his lips, and started to blow, and blow hard.

PLLLLLLLLLLBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBB!!!!!!!

I turn back towards the bed, to wake up my sweet boo, to let her know a helicopter was about to land in the front of the house, and she needed to wake up. It could have been the government or something. I don’t know what, but the noise was loud enough, that it required her immediate attention.

So, I turn towards the bed, and I hear the helicopter again. The strange thing is that, the helicopter was under the blanket. The helicopter was under the blanket, hovering around her asshole, and apparently stuck underneath the blanket, and was trying desperately to escape into the room.

My sweet boo was no longer sweet. She was farting that whole fucking time. The shit shook the room. It made objects move. The fish that swam in the pond close by, stopped swimming. An ostrich walked up on the grass, and stuck its head in the lawn. Her neighbor, who was a devout atheist, jumped out the window praising god and apologized for not believing. Someone from Pepperdine University called me, and asked if my name was Richter. Michael Jackson threw his KY jelly out the window and told the boys to go the fuck home, and his sister put her titty back in her shirt. Wendy Williams became attractive. Nick Cannon became un corny, and Beyonce decided to sit the hell down. Yes, it was that serious.

I went downstairs to laugh my ass off for about 30 minutes. Of all the times I needed a video camera, this would have been it. I don’t think I looked he in the eye for the next week. Because all I kept thinking was that my sweet boo, had them damn Helicopter Farts.

Fin.

Been a long time
Since I dropped u a line
Hope that all is fine
And your life is good
My life is good
And my kids are great
I’m still in the hood
In the garden state
But wait we met
It was like fate
From the first date
Aint give it up - too soon
And kept me thirst-ay
Even on my worst day
You held me down
Like damn, I got a queen
I’m a buy you a crown
Damn, you kinda mean
But, I’m loving your sound
Damn, you was a fiend
When I was knocking it down
In between beefs
Arguments for nothing
It’s hard to stay in love
With bullshit assumptions…

I’m sure you heard from my family
The deaths and the drama
What else can god hand me
It’s chalked up as karma
But I have to keep going
There’s lives that depend on me
Had to stop drinking
Cancer is an enemy
Sometimes I pretend to be
Stronger than I have too
I miss our conversations
I need someone to rap too
Get my thoughts out
My dreams and my fears
The hopes and the tears
That I shed for years
Now they all bottled up
Need to pop the cork
Before I’m back in the court
For assault or murder
Yo, I tossed the burners
Try to keep it peace
I know you was shook
When I showed the beast
Miss you to say the least
You need to look
And see the beef has ceased...

Weed Chronicles

So, as I mentioned before about the marijuana and myself. A lot of these stories involve me and a friend of mine named Dre. We both worked at the airport back in the day, and like I said, we were instant friends. Friends in weed indeed. I don know what the fuck our problem was, we were just blatant with it. You see, we worked between two and ten pm, so we had basically the whole morning to smoke. From ten until one thirty, it was a smoky mess. Dre was the drinker, so he always had a deuce or two of old English or some shit. At the time I couldn’t stand beer, or liquor even. My, how times have changed I guess.

We would normally be smoking a blunt right up until we got to the parking lot of the job. I still don’t know what the fuck we were thinking of. But as far as I am concerned, it wasn’t really frowned upon then. All of us smoked weed, at least most of us did. We sold weed to one another like it was no problem. We got paid every Tuesday, there was a van outside that cashed our checks, shit was sweet. I could buy an ounce from someone on Wednesday, and don’t have to pay them until the next week. When I was selling, I wanted my dough right then and there. I guess that’s why I didn’t sell as much to in house folks. Haters.

This day will live in infamy. We were there for a while at this point, and we were pretty good at what we did. Fueling planes is a heavy assed hard job if you let it be. We never took lunch, always left early, and always had someone punch us out on the time clock. We pretty much had it made.

One day, we come in, glassy eyed. We laughing at shit tat wasn’t even funny. That morning, we smoked some pep, strong assed pep at that. The odor was just lingering. We didn’t care one bit. We was high as hell. But then again, I don’t think there was a time when we weren’t.

There was a big black dude named Bill. Cool as hell. Every guy that cam in he shook their hand, and told them to have a good day. He was the duty manager or something. Everyone respected the shit out of him, like he was the godfather or something. That is the kind of aura he had.

So, this one day, its all going normal as usual. Bill shakes both our hands, but he has this look in his eyes. You could feel it. The dispatch office was filled with everyone, because it was pay day, so it was pretty much packed. Bill calls us in the radio room. And it wasn’t like the room was private, its right where we went to pick up our jobs for the day, with the little window and shit. So it is pretty much visible. Dre and me are souped up, because we think he is calling us in there to give us a promotion, or a special assignment or some shit. So we was walking around to the door, laughing about pipe dreams we had, we just knew we was about to get some type of status or promotion. I mean what the fuck else could it be?

So Bill starts off;

“You know you boys are like my sons and shit, you both work real good, and we are glad you are here, but,

YOU TWO MOTHERFUCKERS ALWAYS SMELL LIKE THE BEST BUSH ON THIS SIDE OF THE MOTHERFUCKING PLANET EARTH, WE KNOW WHAT THE FUCK YA’LL DO, B UT GAT DAMNIT, CAN YOU BE A LITTLE MORE FUCKING OBVIOUS THAN TO ROLL UP IN HERE SMELLING LIKE THAT SHIT EVERY MOTHERFUCKING DAY? SHIT!!!”

Man, Dre and me collectively shrunk to about three inches. Bill was a little taller than us, but this dude looked like a giant that day. We looked to our left, and we saw everybody in a hushed silence. Managers, co workers, secretaries, everyone was looking like they wanted to just fall out. The assholes did. The assholes were the ones we were cool with. We didn’t even to bother go back out to the dispatch room. We slid our as out the back, embarrassed as hell. I didn’t even get the keys to my favorite truck that day. While we were driving on the ramp, we would pass someone, and hear shit like;

“hey bush brother, what gate you working at next?”

“at least bill didn’t say you smelled like the best pussy”

“wanna smoke during lunch bush brother number 1?”

Fuck you, was our responses. We had a dilemma on the way home. So we are sitting in the truck, smoking of course. Our peoples Derrick came up with the master plan;

“Maybe you dudes should just stop smoking”

Dre was like, “you know what derrick? How about you get the fuck out my truck and walk the fuck home?”

Yeah Derrick, shut the fuck up, dumb ass. Stop smoking? This nigga done lost his mind I thought. Even though in the back of my mind, it was an option. Ahhhhhhhhhhhh, the plan was set. The next day, me and Dre went to walgreens. We bought everything in the store seemed like. Toothpaste, mouthwash, deodorant, cocoa butter, cologne, everything we could find to mask the weed scent, hell, we even got the new car scent.

Nothing changed, we still smoked until we got in the parking lot. But while in the lot, high as hell, I mean we were goofy high. We doused ourselves with cocoa butter, baby oil, right guard, cheap Walgreen cologne, we even sprayed the new car scent. We went into the office, still high, but not smelling life reefer though. We walk in, and we see Bill. As always, he shakes our hands. He then smells his hands, shakes our hands again, smells his own hand again. Gives us a funny look, and then sniffs us. And then he says;

“Ok, I guess ya’ll understand shit now, but, did you niggas break into my new car or something?

Classic

Equal Rights and Midget Fights

Well, it is no secret that I used to install cable television. There are too many stories that goes along with the job. I could go on for days about how my boss what the biggest asshole I have ever worked for. When I say hater, this dude was. He was some fake Mafioso, or something. I knew he was an asshole the day I went in to take the piss test. The fact is, why the hell was he the one doing the piss test anyways? Power tripping bastard. Go ahead, touch my urine asshole. He made a sly assed remark about my piss being neon green. He asked if I was a martian or some shit, because of the color. Idiot, I’m not a martian, I drank some quick flush, to hide the weed. That’s what I wanted to say. Damn, all these Jamaicans working there, and you have never sen quick flush urine? You bastard assed bastard.

The guy had the nerve to be a racist, with all of us working there. He would look out for this one white kid named Brian, like they were related or some shit. My cousin, Brian, and me worked the same city. I stayed having to stop my cousin from beating the holy shit out of Brian. I personally didn’t have an issue with him myself. Sometimes when I didn’t feel like doing a job, I would call him and pass it off for him to do it. The great thing about that is that, even though he did it, I got the paperwork back, and still got paid for the job. Pretty fucked up, but we looked out for dude, I mean, looked him the fuck out.

You see, Brian, was constantly drunk. Now I know I have had my battles with the bottle, but not like this dude. Every morning, when he came to the office, he looked like the truck dove its self to the office, and he was being dragged behind holding on to a cable wire, while drinking a beer, and peeing on himself. Now, I am pretty sure, he was doing more than drinking. He had a crystal meth quality about him. With a cocaine history, or something. He was still a cool dude when he needed to be. I just couldn’t understand why, with all his fuck ups, the asshole bastard ass boss asshole, would look out for him like he did. I kept forgetting that my skin tone was a tad bit darker. Damn, it was fucking 2003, I thought things done changed.

Hells nah the shit aint change. See, things were fucked up. And from a couple of things that happened, I can tell that, like I always have been able too, that if you white, you right. It’s science, and I don’t go against science.

One night, Brian was royally fucked up. Drunk and high as hell, no doubt. So, he was driving this big assed work truck, flying through the streets of Elizabeth. It was late as fuck, and he didn’t even live in the area. There was only a few reasons he would even be in that type of area, that time of night. To cop some things. He must have went to my fam, because I sure wasn’t around.

As the story goes, he got his dukes of hazard on with the truck. Was hauling ass up north avenue, when the roads were icy as hell, slid up on the sidewalk, ran over a street sign pole, the truck spins on icy grass, and hits the building, a building with very well to do people at that. Classic move on his part. But no, it doesn’t stop there. The dude, jumps out the truck, and runs away. Not only does he run away, there are people out there who sees him. Now, these people see him everyday. The fool snatches his tool belt, wraps it around his waist, and drunk runs up the street. Not only, do people see him, but the people that see him describe him to the cops. The fool still had his grey short sleeved uniform shirt on. At 11:30pm, drunk running, away from the scene of an accident, with a tool belt that makes a lot of noise when you walk, but sounds like Christmas if you are running, drunk running away.

Now, you would think this guy gets fired right? Hells nah, the asshole bitch assed fake mafia boss makes a decision. Instead of the dude getting fired, or even suspended. He comes up with a fucking plan. This wasn’t dude’s first time driving drunk, and the reason why he ran, is because his license would have been revoked for a while, because of what happened this time. The fucking boss decides to send Brian to California, to get a new license, before the one in Jersey was revoked. Can you believe this shit? Can you believe this shit? They send his ass all the way to cali fucking fornia, to get a license, to beat the system. I couldn’t believe this shit. Normally I wouldn’t care, but here’s where I come in at.

That same week, I had an incident at a customer’s house. They weren’t regular customers. It was a group home for adults with special needs. It took me so long to write this, because a lot of people told me that to call them retarded is just politically incorrect. And that I find to be bullshit, because I am not running for office or anything. Fuckers. So I go to this house, and right away, I knew what the deal was. These folks, are nice folks, they just have developmental problems is all. Most of them are good by nature. However, the counselor must have forgot to give these summabitches their meds, because they were off the fucking meat rack that afternoon.

I mean, I am already upset, because I know there was no way I was going to get a tip, at this house. And I was arguing with my girl at the time. So I was pissed anyways. The job was somewhat of a big job, not too big, just a lot of televisions. I think there was maybe ten of them all together, and all I had to do is change a few wires, and swap out boxes. Sweet!!! But oh boy, these people were determined to not let me work in peace. I should have known something was up when the counselor smiled when she said, she would “get out of my way.” Yeah bitch was setting me up.

As soon as I start, they start with the questions. Now, I try to show extreme patience at all times, and this was surely a test. One dude, was so happy, that he started doing jumping jacks, while yelling out loud as fuck “CABLE CABLE CABLE CABLE, WE GONNA GET SOME CABLE CABLE CABLE CABLE.” This guy was every bit of 50 years old. As if the jumping jacks weren’t enough, he busts out with the running man, with the pause, dropped it down like it was hot, got back by pulling his own collar, in an old school move, spinned, and bust out with the wop, all while not letting the drool that was already formed on his lips to drop to the floor, then back to his jumping jacks, and his mantra of the cable song. I don’t know if I was supposed to feel sorry for him.

I just sat on the floor in amazement. My mouth would have been wide open, but he spit when he talked, and I didn’t want a retarded dna to be transferred to me in some old mystery of science shit. No sir.

So, after his performance, I walk around the house switching boxes, and changing wires, and this dude is like my shadow or something. Not only is he like right on my ass, he didn’t walk regular, he did the fucking running man! This is how he walks! He running mans his ass through life. There was no one step, next step. Not at all. His walk WAS the running man. I thought I was on candid camera. I have been to these homes before, but nothing like this. Uh uh. The whole time, he is asking me questions;

“do you watch cable at home?”
“are you going to get some ice cream?”
“does you but itch at night?”
“mine does”
“will I see titties on the new cable?”
“I like tits”
“Are you married?’
“can I help you with the new cable?’

I answered all of the questions with polite sarcasm. He was satisfied I suppose. The counselor finally got him away from me, took her long enough, I’m glad she was amused by this sick joke of hers.

Oh, the shit doesn’t stop there. The shit did not stop there. I was working on a t.v. set, by the front window, and lo and behold, what do I see? A short yellow bus. The rest of the brigade had come. Reinforcements had arrived, it was a small army of special needs people. I say about 8 of them jumped their jolly asses off the short yellow bus, and ran towards the house as if they all had to take a collective piss. I figured it was time for me to hurry the hell up, and get the fuck out of dodge. I did not want to witness 10 retards doing the running man in unison. At that time, I believed in hell, and I am sure if I stayed any longer than I had to, I would have drove straight to it.

Now, I am kneeling down, reaching behind the t.v., trying to finagle the wires. But I felt very weird about something. A nervousness overwhelmed me, and I did not know what it was. I didn’t want to look behind me. There was someone behind me. I felt their hot breath on my neck. The hairs on my neck stood up. And whatever it was that was behind me, started to growl. I mean growl, like DMX growls. You know, GRRRRRRRRRR. Holy shit, I’m like there is a dog in the special needs house. At least that’s what I thought. So I turn around to pet the dog or something,

OH SHIT!!!! I turn around, and I am eye to eye with a growling, drooling midget with a club foot, and glasses thick enough to see an ant piss on the planet Pluto. I jumped the fuck up, I was scared as shit. I was never too fond of midgets, I’m not a midget hater or anything, but they scare the shit out of me in person. And it was clear to me, that he was their leader. Most of them was standing by the door, just looking, waiting for their midget leader to do one his midget kung fu moves, leaving me debilitated so that he can keep his reign going in that house. It was some scary shit man. I’m nervous now just thinking about it. I think that a gang of midgets will come to my door right now, and do them special midget moves that would leave me bedazzled or something.

Now I have maybe 3 more televisions to do. I know that two of them, I had to do extra shit with, I wanted to get them over quickly. I called my cousin, to se if he could help me. I told him where I was at, he knew exactly where I was at. He installed the initial sets some time ago. So I ask;

“Yo, I only have like 3 sets to do, come help me with like two of them”
“That’s the spot with them retards yo?”
“Yeah man, there’s a midget here too.”
“Uh, nah son, I’m good, um, I got a job across town”
“Nigga, you just said you finished for the day?”
“My bad Flav, I don’t fuck round with midgets yo, they know kung fu”
“Has, ayo Has….HAS!!!!!!”

That dude cut his Nextel off. Now, aint that a bitch. So I go back in the house with the extra boxes. And this midget is on me. He didn’t even speak, he just drooled and growled. GRRRRRRRRRR. I think it was about to go down. The others had left, I am guessing he didn’t want any witnesses. I don’t know how he communicated to them, unless he had a series of growls that meant shit. I don’t know. Anything is possible. Or perhaps he had midgetelepathy. For the next 3 sets, the dude is right there, when I stood up, he backed away and stood in the corner, but when I kneeled down to mess around with some wires, he was right up on me.

I was getting annoyed with the inch high wandering eye guy. I kept asking him politely to back up off me. I asked a few times. He still wouldn’t. I thought that maybe if I thought what I was asking while growling, he may understand me;

Me: o0(dude, back up) Grrrrr Grrrrrrr
Him: Grrrrrrrrrr

What the fuck does that mean?!!! Nigga, I growled your ass a request, and you still up on me. This shit had to stop. I am not proud of this at all. But there was no witnesses. I put my hammer in my belt hook, and asked one mo gain, for dude to back up. He didn’t, so I gauged the handle of the hammer, and saw what I could do. I stood up quick as shit, and the handle of the hammer popped him right on the chin, BOOOP, that’s the noise it made. He looked at me in amazement. Said Grrrrrrrr, and walked away. He didn’t fuck with me while I was on the next set. Lesson taught, lesson learned.

Come to find out, one of the others saw the shit, and told the counselor when I left. So a couple days later the asshole boss faggot asshole bitch made boss brings me into his office. He asks me why did I assault a customer. I’m like what the fuck? I’m like what customer? He goes through the paperwork, and reads off the address. I’m like “man, the special needs home? They was all crowding me, I just had to get through the crowd to continue the job. I think the midget got hit by my hammer though.”

“You hit a midget?

“No, the midget was in the way of the butt of my hammer, he got bopped in the fray”

“YOU CANT GO AROUND HITTING MIDGETS ON THE HEAD WITH YOUR HAMMER!!!!” YOU ARE GOING TO BE WORKING IN NEWARK THE NEXT COUPLE OF WEEKS”

“There are midgets in Newark too, ya know? Gangsta midgets”

“THREE WEEKS!!!!”

Now, that was some bullshit. Brian totaled a fucking truck, was drunk as hell, left the scene of an accident, but was rewarded by getting sent to California in the dead of winter in new jersey, to get a new license. And what the fuck do I get? Sent to the only place where cable installers don’t get paid that good money. Aint life fucked up?

Too Funny....

Yep It's official....

I am officially tired of ciggs and beer. Always knew it was just a dirty little phase. Afer a fun and long trip to the e.r., I decided that I would get some vitamins, and the anti-oxidents and all that shit I used to be about as a teen. Can a new addiction be something else? Maybe like coochie?

Signifyin'

Signifyin' Monkey

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Wait A Hell Damned Minute!!

The Hinnom Valley is a deep, narrow ravine located in Jerusalem, running south from the Jaffa Gate on the west side of the Old City (see also Physical and Spiritual Gates), then eastward along the south side of Mount Zion (seen in the top of the photograph with the Hinnom Valley below it - see also The Zion Bridge and Who, What or Where Is Zion?) until it meets the Kidron Valley which separates the Temple Mount from the Mount of Olives on the east side of the city. It is named from a certain "son of Hinnom" who apparently owned or had some significant association with the valley at a time prior to Joshua 15:8.
The Burning "Hell"

The Valley of Hinnom had a very horrendous history in ancient times. It was used as a place where the pagan worshipers did all sorts of vile and wicked things - including burning children alive as sacrifices to the idols Moloch and Baal. One section of the valley was called Tophet, or the "fire-stove," where the children were slaughtered (2 Kings 23:10). It was a place of tremendous evil for many years.

After their return from the Babylonian exile (see Why Babylon?), the Jews turned the Hinnom Valley into the city dump where garbage and anything deemed unclean (including the bodies of executed criminals) was incinerated. For that purpose, a fire was kept constantly burning there. Even though it was no longer used for evil worship, with all the filth and thick smoke it remained a very dark and dreary place.

The Hebrew name Hinnom when translated into Greek is gehenna, from which the translated word and concept of a burning "hell" originated (there is also another "hell" - see The Cool "Hell"). By the time of Jesus Christ, the deep, constantly-burning Valley of Hinnom was also known as the Valley of Gehenna, or Hell, and had taken on a popular image as the place "down there" where the wicked would eventually be cast into the flames for destruction.

Fact Finder: Did Jesus Christ also refer to the fire of Gehenna?
Matthew 10:28
Note: Jesus used the original word Gehenna, which is translated hell, in the above Scripture, but He obviously wasn't referring to the fires of the Valley of Hinnom. He was talking about the future lake of fire that will be used to destroy the enemies of God (Revelation 19:20, 20:13-15).

So, with all the wiked that go to hell these days. How does the Jerusalem government have the money to pay for the clean up? That shit must be tiring, hell is like like mcdonalds ya know? Over one billion served.

Origin of the Christian Hell [1]

Jesus Mysteries

[Of hell] "The more enlightened sages of the Mysteries viewed such horrors as merely stories to encourage better moral behavior. Plutarch calls the terrors of the Underworld an 'improving myth'. The Christian philosopher Origen likewise argued that the literal terrors of hell were false, but they ought to be publicized in order to scare simpler believers"
[...]
"Origen, however, was posthumously condemned by the Roman Catholic Church as a heretic for his compassionate belief that all souls would eventually be redeemed. The Roman Church required all Christians to believe that some souls would suffer in hell forever, while the faithful would enjoy eternal salvation. This is the one doctrine on the afterlife which Celsus regards as distinctively Christian. He writes:
'Now it will be wondered how men so desperate in their beliefs can persuade others to join their ranks. The Christians use sundry methods of persuasion, and invent a number of terrifying incentives. Above all, they have concocted an absolutely offensive doctrine of everlasting punishment and rewards, exceeding anything the philosophers (who have never denied the punishment of the unrighteous of the reward of the blessed) could have imagined' "

Jesus Mysteries [buy] | Info/Quotes, p90

"In the King James Version of the Bible, the Hebrew word sheol and Greek word hades (two very different concepts) are both generally translated as Hell."

www.religioustolerance.org

Plutarch (46-125CE) and the early Christians viewed hell as a symbolic place. It was only over time that Christianity became the literalistic belief system that it is now, initially all of its teachings were either Roman Mystery religion or Jewish in origin. The Valley of Hinnom (see above) was a place where sinners were actually burnt, the hell that the pagan religions believed in was a symbolic place (where those who died went) used to persuade people to behave better, and the Jews had little actual teachings on the concept of Hell. The result was that Christianity, a religion that was popular amongst the illiterate and undereducated in the Roman empire, lost its inner symbolic nature and became seen as an actual real place where sinners were punished forever, after death.

Yet, and still, people believe in this magical burning place. I would rather scrutinize the cornerstone of all that is deemed as moral. And here we have absolute bullshit staring at us in the face.

Important New Law Passed Today...

I Said Pu$$y Not Piss Damnit!

The single days were just great. A lot of hood rats rolled through. Not all hood rats, but I had quite my share in the day. One of them stands out for some reason. I met this chick at the subway station. I don’t know if I was on my way to work, or not. But I was always going somewhere those days. She is pretty much on the other side waiting to go the other way. She yells over, and asks for a cigarette. Being the gentleman that I am, I tell her to come and get it. She obliges, wasn’t hard to tell that the deal was sealed. So we are sitting there talking, and I’m sizing her up. She had some pretty eyes, and long hair. She said everything on her was hers. That ass and them tits were real, that’s for damn sure. I couldn’t wait to tap that ass.

I don’t know how long we talked on the phone before her visit. I don’t even remember her name to be honest. I am bad with names anyway. At this time, I stayed shit faced. My drink at the time was old grand dad, 100 proof. When you have a toothache, some older black person would tell your ass to get some whiskey. I should have known not to follow my grandfather’s advice then. But, what the hell, right?

Well, anyways, the chick was due to come over. When she arrived, I knew it was chickenhead time. She immediately looks at the liquor and is like;

“Ooooh, what’s this daddy, can I take a swig of this?”

I grumbled out a yeah. But I wasn’t too thrilled that I had to share with her. It is always bring your own bag day at my house. While I was in the kitchen getting her a cup, she was guzzling this 100 proof liquor like it was miracle spring water. This shit was a pint of some hard shit, that usually at that time, took me at least, 4 days to even finish. This wasn’t going to end well. It was the principle of it all. She then sees in the ashtray, that there is a freshly rolled joint. Now this was some goods, and if I smoked alone, I was rolling it in some e-z wider.

“Ooooh, is that some herb? Yo what’s up, lets light that shit up!”


What the fuck did I get myself into? I am trying to be the polite host and shit, but this was already getting ridiculous. So, I light the shit up, and I swear I think I only took three pulls. I pass the shit to her, and she showed no mercy to this shit. I didn’t know if I was looking at a long hair, pretty eyed beauty, or a eureka vacuum cleaner. She passes it back to me. And I am looking it, like she was going to give me some tweezers to even make an attempt to smoke. I am sure that I was upset at the time. This was just crazy.

Well, she made herself comfortable, started to disrobe and all. Whatever animosity I had, was gone then. It was that time. So we getting into it, and damn, I never heard any chick that loud up until that point. That does a lot for your ego. I don’t even care if it was faked, shit, let the neighbors hear. I was trying to bang ole girl downstairs for a minute. What better way to entice her. So, we are going at it, and she goes bonkers, just convulsing, it was like a seizure. I am thinking oh no, I think I killed the bitch. Lucky for me, that wasn’t the case. However, she peed on me. This fool peed on me, so I’m like;
“Yo, what the hell? You peed on me, what type of shit is you on?”

She says to me;

“Nah baby, when the dick is that good, I can’t control it, I squirt when the dick is good like that, c’mon, c’mon.”

“Nah yo, you peed on me, the bed, what the fuck?!”

Now, I am fucking skeptic. I never seen that shit before then. So, you know I am sitting there sniffing the shit, I am trying to find out if this was urine. I mean come on, she had drank my liquor up, debo’d the weed. And now, the final insult is to piss on me. I had watched many a porno, and I never saw that shit. This was before people were even on the internet twenty four seven. It didn’t smell like piss, thank goodness, but I still had my doubts. I was 5 minutes from calling up an older cousin to find out if they knew anything about this phenomenon, but they would tell me that I was pissed on, just to fuck with my head. And on the strength of that, her cab would have been called. Ah, being young and dumb.

So, after the sniff tests, and the fact that the cooch was pretty much banging, we continue. So, ole girl is flipped over, and it’s the big bang. Shit starts getting louder, and louder. I really wish camera phones were out then. So, it is on. The fact that she was just loving this was good enough for me. I am making fuck faces like I was in a porno. I am having a good time back there to say the least. But, something happened. The bun she had rolled up in her hair, um, it popped off, and fell behind the bed. So while I am back there, doing my best Ron Jeremy impersonations, her real hair, decided to jump off the back of her head, and run under the bed. I mean, what could she say? The fact that I had a deep belly laugh, didn’t help matters any.

That threw me off a few strokes. And we weren’t playing golf. But, I did get a hole in one.

Weed Chronicles

My dude Dre, there is no way I can ever leave this dude out of any weed story. This dude and I were like the blues brothers or something. What I find funny now is that we met at the drug testing center for the job we were both going for. We were going for a job fueling planes at the airport. At the time, that money was really good money. So it was a good look. I had given up smoking for maybe a month, and for maybe two weeks I was drinking golden seal in big assed cups. I was already working at the airport washing planes, so I always made a cup of golden seal tea to drink at night during lunch. This is before the drug tests got sophisticated and what not.

But I got the heads up on this fueling job so the smoking had to be cut down dramatically. So I go to this testing center, and I am outside talking with some dude, sharing a cigarette. He tells me his boy is in there taking the test. I know the dude from somewhere. He is from my area, so we start talking about the folks we know, who is doing this and that now. It was all good, we laughing over a lot of shit. He tells me that his boy Dre used his piss for the test. I’m like damn, wish I would have thought of that, but I am not too thrilled about holding another dudes piss.

My girl at the time had given me a ride to the spot, but had to bounce for work, so I was basically stuck there. This dude Dre gave me a ride back to the hood. Fast friends, we both had bags with us, and it was time to get some blunts. And we were pretty much inseparable after that. Man, listen we smoked so much that it was like a cheech and chong movie. We had so many damn crazy things happen. At least crazy and funny to me. I find humor in almost anything.

In those times, around 1996, 1997, weed was good. There were actual goods out to find out about. Not like it is now. There was pep, cambo, body bag, real chocolate thai, bubble gum, old golden, so much shit. I always on my day off would go uptown to a smoke shop, and cop some goods. There was a spot on Lexington avenue that only sold fat assed bags of chocolate, nickel bas of chocolate at that. I would buy 20, and make a killing in 5 minutes, and I was good. But that chocolate was some good shit. Good enough to cross back over the pond, and sell for 15 bucks a pop. Those were good times indeed.

Dre and me would do some silly shit. One time we were bored out of our mind, and decided to go to New York to get some goods. Now the thing is that we were already fucked up, drunk, high, just straight bugging out. We get to the toll booth, and before we get to the teller, I was like “yo, we work for the airport, these id’s say port authority, we don’t have to pay shit.” I didn’t know how it would really go down, but shit, we showed the badges, and we went through scott free. We did that shit numerous times after that. Until 9/11, I was doing it, and it worked all the time. I still have that ID too, too bad the shit don’t work now.

The first time we did it, we get up in the city, and we go right to the spot. This was the first time we smoked this shit called body bag. Oh my damn, this shit was the ultimate weed ever at that time, to us, anyways. We were driving around, but I would swear that I was riding on the hood like an ornament. I do not think I have smoked some shit like that since then. We got paranoid and started wondering if the shit was laced or some shit. We tried to go back to the shop to question these motherfuckers on what was in this shit. But, the thing is that, we forgot where the hell the spot was. We sitting in the truck yelling out shit arguing;

“it was on a hill nigga, a big assed hill,”
“there aint no hills in the bronx,”
“yes there is, lenox hill”
“who the fuck is lenox?”
“probably the nigga that sold us this weed”
“lets call that nigga”
“where he at?”
“on the hill yo”
“fuck it, lets go”

That was the actual conversation. So we bounce, because we are officially fucked up. And he was more than I am, because at that time, I didn’t drink really. He stays with a beer in his lap, even while driving. I wasn’t concerned with safety then anyways. Now, this is the new york city, before it was revamped. 42nd street was filled with all types of porno shops, and peep shows. This dude is a porn aficionado, or was, or whatever. He says, we should go to one of them shops. So, fuck it, we in one of them joints, I forget the name, but it had a lot of big lights. While we in there, I’m walking around, I am checking out some flicks and all. My things is that, I am a very cheap person at times. I couldn’t see myself buying a twenty dollar vhs tape, porn or no porn. Wasn’t gonna happen, I would rather spend twenty five cents on the peep show with a live bitch than spend that dough on a porn that I would never see the end of. So, we are in this place for close to a half an hour. When I seen Dre at 11:05 he was looking at the cover of a tape. I roam around, and go back to the isle he was at around 11:12, he was still looking at the same tape cover. I don’t think anything of it. I then again roam around, and I don’t really see anything worth buying, but I caught the 3 for $20 deal, and I copped those tapes. I go back to my dawg to show him at 11:30, he is still looking at the same tape cover. I go up to him, I say, “Yo” he drops the tape and had the most lost look on his face. He didn’t say shit for maybe two minutes. I mean he had to blink this way out of his daze. This nigga did not know what the hell the problem was. All he said was;

“I do not even know what I was looking at, I wasn’t sleep, I was just stuck, I couldn’t move. We need to go find the spot with that body bag and cambo again, like right now”

I’m game nigga. I was trying to get where he was. Our high asses already had shit, but we still went on a high ass forgetful search. None of it fruitful. I have too many stories with this dude, and the others we fucked with. So this a weed chronicle.

The Weed Chronicals

Holy shit!!!! There is a slight possibility that I have brain damage. Being that I now work for myself, I have a lot of time to sit back and think. Actually, I have enough time to sleep, drink and smoke weed. I don’t smoke that often, but in hopes of stopping the drug of nicotine, it comes in handy. I am one of those people that gets bored of things very quickly. That includes people too. There was a time when I had to smoke weed. I mean, I just had too. I don’t know what it was. Looking back, that was all bullshit. When people say that now, I think it’s crazy. I used to smoke maybe ten to fifteen blunts a day at one point. That was in maybe 1996 o 1997, my days of being a so called rap producer. Going to IAR at that time, everyone smoked. Like clockwork, every morning when i walked up the stairs from the train, there was always someone there from school, looking for a light, or just someone to smoke with. Not only was I always late for my first class, I was high a shit and couldn’t even concentrate. When the instructor was lecturing on something, it always sounded like Greek to me. Like, she would say, “turn your book to page one hundred and thirty seven.” It sounded like, bopka babka gyro banga boopa doop.” I figured that I could beat the system, and get a mini tape recorder, to record lectures. But in those days, you smoke, you freestyle, and if I was rhyming, then I was going o record it. No way I was going to waste good tape on something silly like education. I also had a plan of just sitting in front of the class so I could concentrate more, but then I would go into a trance, and get paranoid. I was thinking that someone was looking at the back of my head, and they were using x-ray beams on me, and trying to melt my head.
Smoking weed also helps you make some dumb ass decisions. There was a guy from Mt. Vernon, who I was real cool with. We always had little battles in front of the school or at Washington Square Park. He would always say to me, “yo, you got to come with me to mt. Vernon, meet my boys, they rhyme.” So, of course, “I’m like who are they?” he tells me some group called the warlocks. And I would clown that, and say nah, wasn’t going to fuck with them. Smooth move Flav, weed knowledge strikes again. I know one thing, depending on the quality of the weed determined my paranoia levels. Man, when I was living at home, I would go on the back roof, smoke out, and then go back in, turn my radio on, and just rhyme into a recorder. However, the house was empty on the first and second floors. No one was ever home but me most of the time. But every time when I did this, I would hear, and feel these bangs. It was like BOOM BOOM BOOM! No bullshit, almost every time. Talk about a nigga shook. Now the history of the house was crazy, I know who was living here right before their death, my uncle. And also an old lady died on the second floor, in her rocking chair. In a high assed mind, you don’t know what to do, you just wondering why these damned ghosts have a problem with weed. Come to think of it, I bet they were the ones stealing my bags at some point too. That shit would always have me on edge. I wasn’t foolish enough to go downstairs to see where the noise was coming from.
Not too long ago, I got a visit from my cousin. I haven seen or talked to any family members since the death of our cousin. My depression had returned in a horrible way. I didn’t understand how it did like that. I was okay for maybe a week in July, but one night I looked at his obituary picture, and I went into instant shutdown mode. Anyone that knows of me, knows that I will cut myself off from everything, especially light. Well, anyway. My cousin comes over, bangs on the door. At first I wasn’t going to even answer it. I saw that it was him, walked on the porch and we talked for a bit. We decide to go to his brother’s house, my older cousin, Digg. Lo and behold, we are sitting around shooting the shit about hip hop with Digg’s brother in law. They were sipping on the cognac, and of course I had some hienekens, because hienekens are made with sprinkles of heaven.
So, after his brother in law left, I start looking through my pockets, and found a bag of weed. Some goods, as we like to call it. Dig is like, “well, what are you waiting for, lets get a dutch.” Now, this shocked the shit out of me, because he hasn’t smoked in years. Well, this is an exciting time right now. These are he dudes that I started smoking with as a teenager. It was a long time since we were all together, and sparked one up.

Considering what we had all just went through a couple months prior, I guess it was fitting. I don’t even remember who rolled it. All I know is that once back from the store, it was rolled and ready for action. Ahhhhhhh, it is lit, and its going down. This was a fatty too. So, we are sitting around, passing the damn thing. Ciphers are easy to control with only three heads. I pass the L to my big cuz, and he drops it. We are sitting on his deck. The spaces on the deck are mad wide. Too wide, therefore, wide enough for the only lit 5 minutes ago blunt to fall through onto the ground in a damn leafy area underneath the deck. Holy shit.

Now under the deck was fenced in, so it was necessary tat we had to break part of the fence to get under the deck. My poor cousin who is shorter than Digg and me, was the obvious choice to climb under. The poor guy had to do it, there was no more weed to go around. And this was like a blessing, toast sort of to our deceased cousin. We had to get this L back. I have never laughed so hard up until that point in my life. So here we are, sitting up on the deck, holding lighters, and lights from cell phones, so that my cuz could see where the blunt was at. I was hoping that the he would find it, and feeling like a fiend at the same time. But we had to smoke, together. We just had too. We were the original blunt buddies.

He found it got damnit! Happy and joy. We proceed to smoke. Good times man, it was a long time. Weed can do a few things to you. Didn’t do much to me that night. I was happy to be with my family. I was happy to be with my family, and have it not be after a funeral for the first time in a long time. We do what we always do when we smoke together. We listen to music and freestyle for the rest of the night. I never really saw it as battling, but you can always feel that there is one going on. but nothing ever too hostile. My older cousin introduced me to hip hop, in the purest form. Shit, and smoking weed. Cannot wait to see him again, and tote one for old times sake.

LOL, look at this comment

You love your "baby" but youre obsessed with these two people.You admit on this blog belonging to you, to stalking them. You also write about raping a girl and sticking your "dick in her mouth".You have no idea what youre doing. You must not love your "baby" that much I would say. Because if either of these two have any sense they'll take this information to the police right away. This behavior of yours wont bode well in any custody case in any court in america. In fact, they could even take your "baby" away because of this. Thats pathetic of you and not very "loving". It clearly shows your priorities in life =Not your "baby" .You shouldnt be allowed to even have children imo and the opinion of many others. Shame.
You win indeed.

If you mr/ms anonymous read. where is this rape shit coming from? you sound like an apologist. And actually, this was never about the fag calling my child ugly, it was about other things. it was the fact that he would be manipulated by someone else, to even take it there, when the clown had nothing to do with aything. So the puppet master made him do it. which was confirmed to me a long time ago. when you are in grown folks business. You get what you get.

Sucks that i even have to explan shit again. Here is the short of it. At the time all this bullshit went down, things were not good. I get a shitty comment on my blog, when i wasnt even online, for close to a couple of months. people can say what they want, and act like they are innocent. but the bottom line is that this is all for thier benefit. if they want to look at my blog all day, five times a day, fine. but dont go bitching to the mod of a message boarcd because you are getting gransonned.

and for the person that sent that comment. i am pretty sure who it it is. because of your lack of reading comprehension. wouldnt be the first time, you drunk typed.

and again, what people fail to realize is that the dude was put up to do it, say it. because that would be the only thing to make me go insane. and for someone that my child adores with all her heart to do that is even sicker than anything to me.

Um.........

If you are looking at this, click on the ads. Get me some money. Shit. LMAO. Imagine what I am working on now.

You Cannot Laugh At Funerals

I guess I can write about this now. On June 19th, I lost my father’s mother, my grandmother. It happened on that day around 5:35am I think. It is crazy, because the Saturday before then, I got a call from my cousin, and he tells me that she was in the hospital, and she wasn’t doing too well. So, he came and got me, and we went down there. There was a lot of us down there, not as many as it usually is, but enough of us. One of the doctors finally came in, and told us that she would be fine, and should be going home in a few days. So, we had a collective sigh of relief. And wouldn’t you know it, a couple days later, my aunt calls me to tell me she passed. At first I was really saddened, I didn’t know what to think. But as the days led up to the funeral, I felt okay about it. She didn’t have to suffer any longer. No more hospital stays, no more being hooked up to machines, and tubes in her mouth. No more of that stuff. She was finally free from pain. She lived a long and fruitful life. And fruitful being the key word, she gave birth to eight big headed kids. Got to respect that gangsta.

I can’t even explain to anyone how hot it was the day of the funeral. I mean, it was make your ass silly hot. Not to mention, most of us were wearing black. Sweating bullets, as these half assed morticians lined everyone up outside the church, waiting to let us in. There was a certain type of feeling that day though. We al seemed to be in good spirits, sad, but okay with it all. There were so many people there, family I haven’t seen in a long time, family friends I haven’t seen in a long time. i made a joke while waiting outside that I have never wanted to go inside of a church so bad ever in life. That sun was brutal. When we got in, it was surely a blessing, the family was seated next to where the working air conditioners were. The folks on the other side were still hot and sweaty. I looked over and felt sorry, but was glad to have a good seat, right next to the a/c. my daughter was with me, and well behaved, which I found amazing. She tried to wipe tears from my face at times. A typical sweet moment if she would have used th fingers that she always put in her mouth. Lol.

So everything is going according to plan I guess. People got up, and said the things they wanted to say. The choir sang the usual funeral songs. My cousin did the eulogy, and sang some songs, and when she sings, she stirs up some type of feelings. Yeah, cry fest 2007, but it was cool. It was cool, until my cousin’s fiancé got up, and decided to sing happy birthday. My grandmother’s birthday was coming up, and she was supposed to perform that at the party that was planned for her. Which now I think was a sick joke. This young lady is a doll. I mean, she is one of the nicest people I have met, always has a smile on her face, and she loved my cousin dearly. And he deserved that. He was a good man. If I was half the man he was, I would be better than most people.

So, homegirl gets up to sing happy birthday. However, there was something that was not made known to us before she got up there. SHE CANNOT SING. The shit was horrible. I didn’t know what to think while listening to this song. The baby, who was half sleep in my lap, got up to see just what the hell was going on. I mean it was like a car wreck. You know it is bad, but you cant look away. I was looking around to see if there was anyone with the same look on their face as I thought I had on mine. I mean, homegirl was breaking it down at that;

“Happy Bir er er errrrr fah dayyyyyyyyyy tooooo youuuuuuuu oooh oooh oooh ohhhhhhhh.” Happy birffffdayyyy dearrrrr grammaaaaaa ah ahh ahhha haa ahhh tooo youuuuuu ooo ohhh ooo ya ya ya ya ya ya ya ooooohhh.

Man listen, I am in the church, and I was expecting Jesus to come in and snatch the microphone from her, hit her over the head with it, and bless her with some singing skills. He didn’t show up, so we had to endure something that was a sweet gesture. It was a very nice thing to do. But I think that my cousin should have told her to audition beforehand. It is not fair to go from mourning the loss of someone to completely thinking what the fuck is this, in your brain. Not fair at all. I guess we did forget about it. It wasn’t that bad, well, it was, but it wasn’t anything to focus on. We proceeded to go on, bury grandma, and go back to eat and reminisce about the good times we all shared.

A month to the day, July 19th, my cousin passed. Thirty days later, around 6am. We were basically the same age. Slept in the same room in our twenties, on bunk beds, went to the same church, had the same crazy sense of humor. We even bought the same model car, the only difference was the color. Or at least, he got me, he got the crazy person I was, but did not judge. I love him and miss him dearly. When we lived together in my aunt’s house, he graduated from college with a computer science degree. He was offered a job with the school immediately. So, while I was there, he was teaching at the school. He had the task of grading papers. Everytime he did, I would be on the top bunk making swoosh noises, because those kids were dumb as hell. At least to me. That would always crack him up. He tell me to stop it. I would be like okay, fine. SWOOSH, that of course represented him marking an answer with a red x. I still think its funny.

I could go on for years about my cousin and myself, but that would require a whole blog. His passing was just crazy to me. It sill is, it hasn’t been that long, so I find myself wanting to call to say what’s up, or what’s going on, or to joke around and talk bout things that are on our minds. We didn’t even get a chance to mourn our grandmother, and this happens. I go back to thinking like a child, and want some magical powers to bring him back. It kills me. We were supposed to be still having fun in our 40’s 50’s and 60’s, still playing practical jokes on other family, or just behaving silly. I often thought that if I could end my life to bring him back I would. But that isn’t possible. But a lot of times, I do have that thought.

Well, on the day of his funeral, it rained the whole day damn near. It was unbelievable. We were still mourning the loss of my grandmother. There was no way that this could have been going on. I kept thinking of the last time I saw him, I gave him a big hug. It wasn’t the dap type of hug, it was a hug hug. I remember him asking me to get him a cup of ice water. I cracked up, and was like, “negro, there are a million kids here at this house, we the same age, ask one of them.” In which he did, got his water, and they drove off.

I wish I had the power to write about the things that lead up to the funeral. But I cannot do it without breaking down somehow. I don’t want that to happen.

So, here we are again, in a church, about to bury another person in the family 30 days after we buried grandma. This was different though. All of us were still in shock. It’s just that this made no sense to us. To me anyways. I don’t think I have ever been so angry. I was mad that he left, I was mad that the funeral home that he worked for, which was owned by his uncle, were charging for the services. I was mad that his father, who wasn’t shit to his older kids was posturing, like he was super dad all these years. I was mad that on the projector showing his pictures during the service, never showed any of the flicks he took with my side of the family. I was mad that the services were being held at the church we both were members of. Mad that he left the church because there was bullshit going down when his pops became a member. I was mad at my aunt, because I thought she pushed him too hard, and had him taking care of her all these years. I was mad that he did for others first before he did for himself. I was mad that he didn’t live fully as I did all these years. I was mad that I couldn’t bring myself to go to the casket. I was mad that when I did go, and spoke to him, he didn’t speak back to me. I was mad that I couldn’t bring him back. I was mad at God, I was mad at Jesus. I was mad at the world that day.

The way that this funeral home had this shindig organized, didn’t make things any better. I mean they had family all spread out in the church. My family is a big family, and we should have all been in close proximity within one another. I got the short end of the stick. I was fucking sitting with some of the faculty from the school, his job. Here I am sitting next to some white guy, that I don’t know from a can of paint. Mourning the loss of my cousin. Who the hell was I supposed to lean on? When the choir starts singing the upper room, was I supposed to collapse in this white dude’s arms and shit? Hells nah!!! I was pissed. I am looking at most of my family sitting rows in front of me, and I am livid. I kept getting up, to try to squeeze in next to some of my cousin’s, only for Krege’s grandmother to stop me, and tell me those seats were reserved for his grandfather, and his wife. WTF?!!!! They weren’t even there yet. How in the world are you going to reserve a seat at a funeral. How are you going to be an usherette at your own grandchild’s funeral. I was heated to say the least. I wanted to find a neck to strangle. I guess the white dude to my left sensed it, so his ass kept doing the booty slide, to get a little distance. Smart move on his part.

So, I am sitting there, my ass hurts from these hard assed benches, still mad at the world. However, a miracle happened. During funerals, they allow peole to get up and say some kind words about the deceased. My cousin had a very good friend named Lance, he was older than us, but Krege was like an older brother to him. He took care of Lance. I cant really describe Lance, all I can say is that he is truly a character. He has these super thick glasses, and he talks very funny. Sort of like daffy duck in a way. So, he gets up to say some words. The projector showed what he was saying, but he didn’t say shit that was on the projector. It was like he forgot how to read, and decided to go impromptu with it. Of course, being in the church he starts out with a prayer;


“FAWTHA GAWD, THANK YOUF FORTH THIS DAYTH THE LAWD HATH MADE, ID LIKE TO THANK YOUTH FAWTHA GAWD BECAUSE THIS IS WHAT I NEED TO DO, IM NOT GONNA RAD OFF THIS SHEET BECAUSE IMA COME FROM THE HEART GAWD, THIS WAS MY BROTHA, I MISS HIM…ETC ETC.”

Yeah, it was touching, and sweet. He is a good guy. But we all knew what to expect, because he spoke at grandma’s funeral a month earlier. Just like old girl singing then, we didn’t laugh or anything, because it was a nice thing to do.

I am sitting in my seat, and I am pretty sure that the services are close to over. I couldn’t wait to get out of there. My heart was a little bit lighter, thanks to Lance. But ah ha, my cousin still had a sense of humor after all. They announce, that his fiancé is going to sing a song. She was going to sing a fucking song. I swear to you, everyone that was at my grandmother’s funeral, had a collective “OH SHIT” come out. You couldn’t hear it really, but, oh yeah, it was there.

So she starts. I am trying my hardest not to laugh. I mean I tried so damn hard. This was the worst struggle I would ever endure. Most of my family is in front of me, and I can see them breaking down. My cousin Samar, was the first to bolt to the bathroom. He didn’t even hide it. He had a big assed grin on his face. He tried his best to look pitiful and sad. It didn’t fool me. I looked at his mom, and she was having convulsions, the type you have when you are either laughing or crying, and she damn sure wasn’t crying. Then, another one of my cousins gets up, and walks to the back towards the bathroom. Now, he was just pitiful, he put his shades on and tried to act like he was coughing, and crying at the same time. I am sitting there thinking, “you are not fooling me dog.” See, I am getting worried, because a lot of people got up and allegedly went to the bathroom. One of my aunts got up to follow my cousin, and she walks by, and she is chuckling her ass off.

Now I have the obituary covering my mouth. The white guy next to me is giving me a look like I am the worst person in the world. My cousin Digg is two rows in front of me, with his wife. His head was so deep in her armpit with laughter, that I didn’t see how I was going to maintain a stoic appearance. This song was too fucking long I kept thinking. Even the guy playing the organ found it hard to keep it in. I saw him grinning too. I have another cousin, she was seated two rows in back of me. She kept calling me. I am sitting there like “man, I am NOT going to look at her.” She just didn’t give a fuck really. So, I look at her, they are all cracking the hell up. I couldn’t resist anymore. It came out, it wasn’t a chuckle, it was one of them belly laughs. I go back to sit with my cousin Nikki, and we are just dying. We are cracking jokes. Her brother comes, my cousin Quan, sits next to us, and says “so, what do ya’ll think of Erica Badoodoo.” HOLY SHIT!!!

It was over from that point. I had to get up. There is no way that I could continue to mourn in this fashion. I mean after that statement, how could you? The timing was perfect. I went to the bathroom to join other family members who could not get rid of the giggles. I mean after the performance, things were a little better. We don’t mis him any less or anything. And I am sure that it was his idea to make it rain all day and to have her singing at the services. A jokester to the end, huh Krege? We will always love you and miss you. No more pain for you cousin.

I cannot Stop Hollering At This Skit

True confessions...Late night Style

Caprice, you were real special to me. I waned so much with you at that time, but at the same time I was feeling myself in such a way that vanity wouldn’t even be a word to describe it. I remember the first time we smoked together. I had some good shit, and we were by the fountains all fucked up. While we were at that job, I would always look at you. I mean your smile was just so damn amazing. It was so lovely to say the least. Your body was great, a little thick around the edges, but that wasn’t an issue. Your feet were crazy suckable. I guess that was the start of my crazy foot fetish. Everyday we saw each other, there was just this chemistry. I cant explain it. We both didn’t know what the hell we wanted, but we knew we wanted each other we were both semi involved with someone else at the time. And even though that was the case, we still did our thing. And it was a good thing. I remember coming to your house when there was a blackout. No lights, just candles, and weed. We smoked and fucked like rock stars. I mean we were going at it. On the floor no doubt, because u had just moved in. we shared so many fun times, and after that we would see each other sparingly. And hook up a few times. I cant help but to think what it could have been. You were maybe the first one that put it into my mind that I could never be faithful. That may have been true then, and maybe 50% true now. But I cant help but to think that what if I could have been 100% with you. You never went nut free with me. Damn, imagine that happening for years to cum. Lmao, hope I see you again soon one day.

Late Night Dedication to a Pal O Mine

I don’t think you know how much I enjoy talking to you TK. I really fucked up in so many ways. And I don’t have any excuses at all. I believe you brought out of me my best when I didn’t seem to have it in me. I love you so much. I guess more of a friend now, we went through some crazy times. It is like you are the one that gets me. A lot of that coming from us being born in the same month. But you are wonderful. I know you think that you are crazy, and take pride in that. But you aren’t crazy to me. You are just a human. I listen to some songs that always remind me of the good times we had with each other. Faithful, by common, and closer, by goapele. I listen to them still constantly to remember good times. Sometimes I don’t think that I would have even wanted to write if it weren’t for you. That and the fact you had no damn cable television in your house. I many times miss you and your energy. You were really like my muse. We had a lot of bad times. But we had a lot of good times too. And those are the ones I chose to remember. Strangely, I am very happy at your life now. A couple of years ago I wouldn’t have been. And I guess that is because you were honest with me, even to the point where it hurt me. I am extremely glad that I did get the chance to get to know you. Even at times where I wanted to be mad with you forever I could never be. I just wish that I showed the appreciation then, like I have now. But we live and learn. Even thought you are an asshole, lmao, I can not imagine life without ever knowing you. And I am happy to say that we are friends. Or something like that. i think I will always have love for you. I miss you dearly at times. I only hope that I become the Winston Foshay of this period, and have you there campaigning. From now on, I am going to call you Tuffy. Because you are no damn tender kitten. Lmao.