I'm not a Myspace fiend like a lot of people, but I understand the purpose of it. Nevertheless, here's something I've noticed:
Why do people use ignorant-ass names on their Myspace pages? Like, I'll get a friend request from "MakeNiggasBleed" or "BitchI'llShootYou." Then, you'll click on their page and under favorite books the Bible will be listed.
Eh?
Or, folks who are allegedly trying to offer something professional will send you a friend request with a MySpace name like "GritsAndTitties" or "IShotFivePeopleAWeekAgo."
Look, people, if you've got a Myspace page, please exercise some decorum. As it is, when criminals are busted, the first thing news reporters do is check to see if the suspects have MySpace pages. Many of them do and what we see is poor grammar, and a page that blatantly says they're a low life.
Another NBA player is broke? You're joking, right? I'm shocked. They seem so in control, so non-flashy, so efficient and frugal with their millions. Most of them aren't even buying 24-inch rims anymore. They're settling for 22s. They're not Making It Rain, but Making It Drizzle, dropping 20s instead of 50s.
Well, get out the sheet of paper that contains all the broke NBA players because the list just got longer. First, though, let's tally up the BAFs (Broke-Ass Fools) we already know:
- There's Kenny Anderson, who was paying over $10K per month in child support, but as recently as '06 was $100,000 behind. This is the same dude who once told the New York Times he owned eight cars.
- Jason Caffey, who got locked up for child support, despite once signing a $35 million contract and winnning two NBA titles. According to bankruptcy court records, Caffey owes nearly $2 million, but only has $1.15 million in assets.
- And now, Vin Baker. Baker's restaurant is behind $900K in payments. What's trifling is that his parents sunk $400K into Baker's establishment and lost it. By the way, am I the only who believes Baker one day will appear on A & E's Intervention?
Anyway, it's obvious the NBA wasn't being dramatic when it said recently that 60 percent of NBA players go broke within five years of leaving the game. That's not at all hard to believe. Most of 'dem fools have four baby mommas, 10 friends, a step-momma, a real momma and daddy, three crackhead uncles, and four drunk brothers on payroll. Just last month, it was reported that Shaq spends $875,015 per month. He blows $24,300 a month on gas, according to financial records filed as part of his divorce filing. $24,300? I mean, this this fool buying gas from the Taliban? Is he getting '93 from Bin Laden's personal stash? Does he have Nike Gas with the Bentley grill? Shaq also drops $6,730 a month on dry cleaning. Clearly, he ain't getting his shit in before 9 a.m.
All I know is, if Kevin Garnett -- who has made nearly half a billion in NBA money -- ever goes broke or has so much as his doggie house foreclosed, somebody needs to whip his ass with a copy of "Rich Dad, Poor Dad."
Man, Rog, you really screwed the pooch, didn't you?
Not that Roger Clemens will ever spend a day in jail, but has anyone torpedoed their reputation quite this fast?
From a for-sure Hall of Famer to being a slimeball in the span, of what, a month? The lies Rog told on Capitol Hill this week when he testified in the steroids probe are so criminally bad that Rog should go to jail for thinking the public is that fucking stupid.
Let's get this straight: Even though his best friend, Andy Pettitte, says he did performance-enhancing drugs, even though supplier Brian McNamee would face jail time for not telling the truth, Rog wants us to believe that of all the names to pick out of hat, McNamee picked his and is lying about his involvement with PEDs. This is the same Rog who seemed to get stronger and more effective as he got older -- conveniently after Red Sox management said he was washed up.
Before this week, Clemens said he didn't know anything about human growth hormone or steroids, which is a lot like a crackhead not knowing about the pipe. Or a pimp not knowing about his ho's.
What's worse is that Clemens has thrown everyone he could under the bus. He admitted McNamee shot up his wife with HGH, but Clemens claims he knew nothing about it. I hope for Valentine's Day, Clemens' wife punches him in the nuts. That was out-cold to tell on her like that.
So, we're supposed to believe his own wife was embroiled in HGH, but not him. Did Clemens steal that straight from Marion Jones' Dummy Guide To Lying For The Feds or what? Remember, Marion's 45-teeth-having-ass wanted us to believe that while her husband and baby daddy were both users, no way was she involved. That defense didn't work out so well, being that Marion is on her way to the pen.
Besides, last time I checked, Clemens' wife was just a rich-ass housewife, not a pitcher desperately trying to maintain a Hall of Fame career. Don't get me wrong, I believe it's true that Clemens' wife took HGH so she could shine in the 2003 Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition. However, I don't believe she did it just once because her body allegedly reacted violently to it, as Clemens claims. And I certainly am not stupid enough to believe Mrs. Clemens was the only 'roid user in that house. If anything, she took the shit because it was working so well for her husband.
Clemens is in this predicament because he is simply trying to protect the image he's carved for years. He's a great pitcher, but he's sold the public on being as American as apple pie, as being the aw-shucks, God-fearin', Republican-loving Texan -- the kind of guy you'd split a six-pack of Stroh's with in the back of a pickup truck. Clemens enjoys his hero status and what we're seeing from him now is his desperate effort to maintain that level of hero worship.
If good ol' Rog would get his enormous ego in check, he actually could have manuevered his way out of this mess with a shred of dignity. What Clemens didn't seem to understand is he's such a hero to the public, they would have been more than willing to forgive his misdeeds. Had he come clean, maybe even blamed his usage on trying to keep up with a culture chock-full of steroid and HGH users or the greedy-ass owners, the people would have sided with him. They would have given him a pass because, deep down, they wanted to believe him.
Clemens will never face perjury charges unless a smoking gun containing real, physical evidence emerges. I know McNamee has gauze and syringes which supposedly contain evidence that Clemens was shot up full of 'roids, but it's been in McNamee's possession for years and that would never hold up in court. Any judge or lawyer with a specter of common sense would question the chain and custody of evidence. A sharp attornery always could give Clemens an out and say that McNamee shot Clemens up without his knowledge.
But Clemens' ego wrote a check his ass can't cash.
Lately, I've really been into crime reality shows. My favorite show right now is probably, "First 48," which airs on A & E. It reinforces the theory that a) criminals are really fucking stupid and b) it's totally true that if the cops don't catch a killer in the first 48 hours, they likely won't catch them. By the way, kudos to the few criminals who actually seem to have been watching Law and Order, and understand that the police can't detain you, unless they're arresting you.
Anyway, this is one of the most gruesome crimes I've read about. The guy above represents a composite sketch for a man New York police believe hacked a psychologist to death in her office. They amassed a sketch because the man was caught on tape, leaving her office.
This guy hacked the psychologist to death with a freakin' meat cleaver. In fact, the psychopath stabbed her so forcefully, he bent the cleaver. Splattered the walls with her blood. And, even stranger: He left behind a suitcase filled with adult diapers and women's clothing.
WTF?
Look, we live in a pretty strange world. But even by our own ridiculous standards, this is pretty nuts.
Way to go Kwame Kilpatrick! You did it, big guy! Detroit is No. 1!!!! And here I thought you were only good at nailing your chief of staff, and costing the city you mayor almost $10 million in the cover-up. Nice to know you're not just a dickhead, but a versatile dickhead.
(Rabid crowd applause)
How's this for an enticing travel brochure:
Come to the city with the country's highest, violent crime rate, where you will get the added bonus of living where the most money is spent to clean up contaminated waste. Not enough to convince you? How about an unemployment rate that is twice as big as most other cities? And let's say you don't derive enough misery in the D, you can always travel northward to Flint, the third-most miserable city in America.
If it helps any, New York is fourth.
I've got a new slogan for Detroit, who has the distinct pleasure of having a buffoon mayor and an idiot for a governor.
Detroit: Where You Hope To Get Killed 'Cuz Yo Ass Ain't Finding A Job.
Excuse me for not blogging the last couple days. Been a little busy, and I was still somewhat worn out from this episode with Sprint. Bitches.
Anyway, to get everyone in a good mood today, let me first share this hysterical Emmitt Smith video done by Jimmy Kimmel, who absolute clowned football's all-time leading rusher. Clearly, Emmitt knows how to bounce off tackles and find the hole. But what that fool doesn't know is subject-verb agreement, predicates, proper pronouns and basic, sentence structure. Hey, we can't all be perfect.
See, now don't you feel better?
OK, let's get back to what is probably my favorite story of 2008, even though it's just February.
Simple-ass Detroit mayor Kwame Kilpatrick is proving to be not only the worst mayor in Detroit history, the worst mayor in the nation, but also the stupidiest MF of all time. Can that be his official title from now on? Stupidest MF of all time? Somebody put that shit on a plaque and hand it to him.
The latest is that KK signed a confidentiality agreement to try to conceal those embarrassing text messages with Christine Beatty, the former chief of staff he had an affair with -- which ultimately cost the city $9 million in a whistle-blower suit involving three former police officers.
Anyway, this is an interesting development, mostly because a confidentiality agreement of this nature is completely unheard of in a lawsuit involving city government. Kwame doesn't seem to understand he is a public official. Everything he does is on the record. The shit is so basic I'm really questioning who made this fool a lawyer, because he operates like he got his law degree from DeVry.
As a public official, information is put in an entirely different realm. Everything a public official does concerning the city is public record. It can't be concealed. The Freedom Of Information Act was put in place so that we, the public, would be able to keep checks and balances on politicians. If you want to know how much your city government is spending on Wrigley's spearmint, the FOIA allows you to find that out. It was created to protect citizens, not harm us.
But surprise, surprise, when the Detroit city council signed off on paying the lawsuit, they had no idea these text messages existed, or that their mayor had signed a confidentiality agreement that essentially proved he was lying.
Right about now, I need Detroiters to read. I need them to be informed to the point where they don't fall for this obvious, back-handed bullshit. Kwame went on Detroit radio -- read: an R & B station where you can hear that new Luther -- to explain that the reason he had a confidentiality agreement was to "protect all Detroiters" from having private situations exposed. He pointed to the fact that divorces and other personal suits often are accompanied with confidentiality agreements.
That is true, but one problem: FOOL, YOU RUNNING A CITY. This isn't a divorce. The city was being sued because of your creep. You fired a couple cops because they knew you were on some In Between The Sheets shit with your chief of staff. And you were just dumb enough to be sending your screw through text message, using a city Blackberry.
And unfortunately, Detroiters don't know any better and they are buying his grand-standing that this should be private, and between him and his wife. They seem to have forgotten, that the cost of his misdeeds are on you, the citizen. You're the one paying a shitload for bold-ass city services. Look up what property taxes cost in the D. Look at what car insurance rates are. That shit is insane, and now yo' mayor just gave you the biggest F-U ever.
Naturally, when speaking about this matter publicly, KK always seems to forget to mention that HE LIED UNDER OATH TO A JUDGE, AND A COURT. He just glosses over that simple fact. And he, of course, doesn't make the connection between what he did and what it cost his taxpayers. Kwame's message: Hey, I'm just trying to help Ike.
This isn't about protecting Detroiters anymore than it's about an African booty scratcher. This is about a mayor who was busted, who tried to cover it up, and is now trying to manipulate inner-city black voters by playing the race card and making it an issue of us vs. the media.
Well, last time I checked, the Detroit Free Press wasn't the one who told you to use city funds to screw ol' girl. The DFP didn't make you send those text messages where you talking about hitting it into the wee hours. The DFP didn't fire those cops for doing their jobs, or cost the city millions over this bullshit. You did.
What's funny is KK had the nerve to say his boo Beatty should have quit. Um, MF, what's your excuse? Why are you still there, looking like you stole all of Malcolm X's zoot suits from back in the day? Why not do the honorable thing and leave office?
Because that would be too much like right. And we know he's incapable of doing that.
Before I get into the meat of this story: FUCK SPRINT. FUCK RADIO SHACK.
It's officially 12:37 p.m., and I've got no cellphone, thanks to the numbnuts at both companies.
Long story, made even longer: I went into Radio Shack yesterday to buy Sprint's new Touch phone, which is their answer to the iPhone. Pretty sweet-ass phone.
I arrive at Radio Shack around 7:30 p.m, Tuesday night. I pick out the phone, go through the paperwork, and it turns out I'm eligible for $75 off on this phone. Cool. I get rung up and have one foot out the door when Radio Shack sales clerk tells me we have a problem.
The proper eligibility code didn't ring up on their computer, which would allow me to receive the $75.
OK, I don't speak Radio Shack-ese, so I'm looking at him like he just said something in Swahili. Sales Clerk, a pudgy looking gay-ish guy, explains he must call Sprint and get the proper code so that I may be properly credited for this purchase.
45 minutes later -- no bullshit -- he thinks he's got the proper code. He doesn't. He calls back again. 45 minutes later -- which means I have now been in this fuck-ass store for damn near THREE HOURS trying to spend MY MONEY -- he basically doesn't know what the fuck to do.
Let me give you a little background about Sprint's customer service in case you don't know. It's shitty. This is the same company who announced a few months ago that customers who call and complain too much would have their contracts terminateD. Basically, they're on some miss-a-step-today, you'll-be-frying-fish tomorrow shit. Complain one extra time, and they're doing you like Suge Knight did Vanilla Ice.
At this point, I'm frustrated and pissed, but trying to remain somewhat professional. I don't want to give the white folks what they want, which is to see me go from Zero to Rashida. I'm trying to handle this like an adult, but still get across that this bullshit is acceptable.
I called Sprint myself. An hour later -- meaning I had now been in this store DAMN NEAR FOUR HOURS -- Sprint decides you know what? Fuck a code. We'll just send you the phone ourselves. They gave me some credit, upped my rebate and tried to somewhat makeup for the inconvenience. Although, the insulting part was, while I'm boiling about this bullshit, the ho' ass Sprint operator tried to sell me some shit. I'm like, BITCH, now ain't the time for you to be telling me about buying unlimited Internet access. If I had a fucking bomb, I'd plant that shit right at Sprint headquarters, and now you wanna talk to me about some trivial bullshit I can add for an extra $60 a month?
FUCK SPRINT.
At this point, FOUR HOURS LATER, I'm thinking the problem has basically been solved. Nuh-uh. Gay Pudgy Boy tries to switch me back on my original phone (the same phone I walked into the store with), and is finding that the "system" -- this ol' Coleco-bullshit-ass-Pac-Man-throwback computer they got up in Radio Shack -- isn't allowing them to. After another 45 minute phone call to Sprint -- WE'RE ON FIVE FUCKING HOURS NOW -- it's determined that ain't shit gon' happen. I had to leave my phone at Radio Shack, and basically deal with that shit the next day.
Now, the next day is here, I still don't have a fucking phone. My account is showing I purchased two phones, which is completely incorrect. You would think in situations like these muahfuckas at Radio Shack are trying to offer me new DVD players, a free subscription to Maxim, some Kleenex, some Now-Laters -- just something that would make me feel better about having wasted about nine hours of my life trying to get a phone from their punk ass store. Nuh-uh.
Well, Sprint and Radio Shack, I'm well past a Rashida-level of anger. I'm officially on some shit with a prefix and an apostrophe, a La' Princia or some shit. I'm on some, where the fuck is my blade? I'm on some, it ain't nothing between but space and opportunity. I'm on some, whip dat ass like Ike did Tina when she didn't hit that note right in the second verse.
I hate it when grown mofos abbreviate words in e-mails because they're too lazy to spell them out. Sure, occasionally, I roll with an "anywho" or a "lemme kno." But generally speaking, I spell out my words.
But other MF's send you e-mails with shit like, "Get back 2 U" or "2 B Continued" "I want 2 get 2..." It's like, MF, we are GROWN. We don't say "2." We say "to" or "too." We say "be" not "B." We say "for" or "four" not 4. This ain't 12th grade, where you were writing shit like, "2 Good 2 B 4Gotten," in fools' yearbooks.
It's one thing to abbreviate in text message. Most of us have 160-character limit. So a LMAO, LOL, or ROTFLMAO, is no big deal. But in a email, particularly one where you are trying to make a professional inquiry, I don't want read shit like "cpl" (couple) or "n" (in). Shit, I ain't got time to play morse code with your damn e-mail. Got me looking up acronyms and shit trying to figure out what you're trying to say.
This just goes to show if you get anything before a jury, you have a shot of getting out of anything.
People are sheep. People are stupid. And more importantly, people like to screw The Man.
Somehow, Wesley Snipes convinced a jury he wasn't trying to commit tax fraud when he didn't file for taxes from 1999 to 2004, during which he earned an estimated $20 million. Check out this excerpt from the news story:
Snipes used bizarre arguments to justify his position, saying the IRS' own code meant income earned in this country wasn't taxable, and the agency had no legal authority because it's not a proper government entity.
Later, the actor threatened the government and individual agents in his pursuit, declaring himself a "nonresident alien" not subject to tax laws.
Prosecutors say Snipes paid taxes in the 1990s, but changed his mind after meeting Kahn in 2000. He allegedly stopped filing returns, illegally sought $11 million in 1996 and 1997 taxes paid and drew fake checks to pay the U.S. Treasury.
So even though Blade was born in Orlando, he somehow got a jury to believe he really wasn't an American and therefore shouldn't pay taxes. His attorney also argued the IRS wasn't really a government agency.
That's a Jedi mind trick for your ass.
I'm going to try this next time I get a speeding ticket. Tell a cop he really isn't even a cop, and that I'm a "nonresident alien." That sounds a lot like the logic dude used in Friday when he was trying to get Deebo to give him back his Beachcruiser.
"It can be like both of ours, we just keep it at my crib."
Blade ran the OKEE-DOKE on the IRS. And I'm sure black folks will consider this a victory on some level, but at the end of the day, this is just another rich guy getting away with something the rest of us couldn't.
Guess this is why Pastor James David Manning believes Blade should be president.
My favorite part is the sign that says, "Get The Poot Butt Mayor Outta Here." Only at a Detroit protest would you see that. Detroit Public Schools, that's all I have to say.
