Archive for the ‘C.R.E.A.M.’ Category

Politricks as Usual for the “Administration”

Thursday, February 2nd, 2006

presidential H.A.M.

Just when G.DUBBZ was going to be nailed to the wall for his illegal wiretap protocol we have to watch and hear another mixtape DVD from M.C. OSAMA BIN-LADEN.

That has been the ‘Administations’ modus operandi everytime GEORGE gets in trouble. Somebody does something to divert the attentions of the media machine monolith and then the focus is lost and soon forgotten. People can say what they want about who controls the airwaves and the images therein but all I heard about back in 1998 were BILL C’s b.j.s and his taste for cigars.

monica and the cuban

The current ‘Administration’ can’t go two weeks without lying about something else. Maybe that’s the trick? BILL CLINTON wasn’t f’d up enough. If he was getting an intern b.j. like twice a month we might have forgotten about White Water and the whole weed smoking thing.

So maybe I have the president all wrong. His hallmark to his legacy will be his consistency. How he is consistently fucking up everything he touches. Who could boast that? The great part is that we have at least three-quarters of the term remaining for this president to undo fifty years of civil, social, environmental and human progress. Hot damn! Just thinking about all of that good work is liable to make the president plum tired and you know what that means?

“Crawford, fire up the barbeque pits! This prezeedentural stuff sho’ is hard work.”

SEPARATED AT BIRTH: G-DUBBZ

Thursday, February 2nd, 2006

bedtime for bonzo

Read my lips… I don’t care about HUEY FREEMAN.

HAITIAN Immigrants Are Still the GULLIEST!

Monday, January 30th, 2006

c'est pase?!?

We all agreed last year that Haitians were way more gully than Jamaicans.

rock, paper, scissors

When your shit is so f’rucked up that you have to resort to kidnapping nuns you have lost all hope. Have you seen what the average nun looks like? Who’s gonna give you a reward for a haggardly piece of poon?

ouch

I feel the Haiti peoples pain too because the story is always the same with whoever sits in their presidential palace. Sooner or later the electric bill doesn’t get paid and then everyone finds out that the politicians were corrupt. So why doesn’t the Dominican Republic of Mexico have to deal with this same unrest? The only pictures that I get from D.R.M. are of 16year old chambermaids right after they’ve ‘cleaned’ the room (NSFW).

The D.R.M. has realized one thing that is inherent in human nature. The need to congregate and commune. The clothing sweatshops set up in the Dominican Republic of Mexico fulfill these needs. The sweatshops in the D.R.M. allow the exploited populus a place to congregate outside of their respective shantys. The factories are more comortable and the lighting is better. So what if you have to work a 14hr. shift, that is just more time to gossip with your cousin MARYLIS.

This is what the Haiti people need to make them as happy as their Dominican Mexican cousins… more sweatshops. This way the Haitians can whistle while they work.

the whistle song

A LETTER FROM THE MANAGEMENT

Saturday, January 28th, 2006

chyeah!

I am taking off a few months to enjoy some poisonous recreational narcotics. My goal is to acheive that emotional rock bottom place where I keep all of my pain stored up. I want to go into that deepest of psychological cellars and open the boiler room door with the the word “despair” written on it. Written in blood. I may not make it back here but even if thats the case I can’t be mad since it was one helluva ride. Someone else can fill my shoes anyway. That’s just the nature of things. Time marches on…

Someone else will have to talk to you about the “Administration’s” proposed national health care package. It is actually a package too. So don’t go using up all your band-aids now because you’ll need them through your retirement.

medicaid

Since I don’t own a television I have no point of reference for this young lady other than I was told that she was a contestant on ‘American Idol’

rhonetta deneice johnson

How come they don’t have a vetting process that prevents these folks from ever entering public awareness? I mean, I am not saying that this lady shouldn’t be able to pursue her dreams and the what not. Isn’t that what the circus is for? To give freaks their moment to shine. These people are supposed to be banned from coming outside during the day. American Idol viewers I will tell you what’s next. The Elephant Man on A.I.

pon' de river

No, not that raging Jamaican fool, but this Elephant Man.

I am not an animal!

I will buy a television to watch that show. But for now its just me and my compact disc player. I try to keep up with all the new trends in urban music. PAPOOSE and LUPE FIASCO are the hottest crap artists out right now. The hottest CD is the Taliban ‘Bombs over Baghdad’ mixtape part 20.

taliban mixtape

OSAMA is spitting his usual fire at G-DUBBZ. He is calling him out for making fun of his feet in sandals and also for snatching KANYE and the R.O.C. from AL GORE. So I’m like whatever. This is becoming played out already. Time for me to catch a bump of that raw stuff. See y’all fools later.

All Day I Dream About Sneakers…

Friday, January 27th, 2006

P.T. 76

First off, just let me say that C.S. is a down azz b.i. for coming with me to Paris. We spent almost the entire two weeks walking throughout the city. Yeah, we did take the Metro up to Montmarte and then to Cligancourt, but otherwise we kept it gully by doing the Timberland two-step, or should I say the Adidaslide. Homegirl is a genius for subletting an apartment in Paris that was literally in the center of the city. The area was called Saint Germain and we were right across the street from Notre Dame.

gargoyle

I used the trip to Paris to debut a few new pairs of Adidas I had copped from the store in NYC. NIKE and I had been going through some problems. I saw NIKE hanging a lot with the younger set. I felt like I was being told that I wasn’t wanted anymore. My phone calls weren’t being returned, my letters and e-mails had gone unanswered. Maybe it was time to move on. We had some great times together me and NIKE, but that was all in the past now. Adidas seemed more mature too. We did have a previous relationship back in the day too. That’s part of the reason I came all the way to Paris. I wanted to see if I could find my old lover, the all leather ROD LAVERs. If I could find them then I might be able to make this relationship work.

C.S. and I decided to walk along the Seine River to the Museo de Louvre. There was an Adidas flagship store along the way. I might be able to find the LAVERs there. If not we could skip our way to the Champs Elysees. The Champs is probably the sickest shopping strip on the planet. Only Milan might be able to hold a candle to it. I hate to sound generic, but the only time I have entered a Gap store is on the Champs. The Gap stores in the States never have the leather goods that this store carries. Corinthian leather messenger bags and split suede espadrilles(no brokeback). Even the stores mannequins are wrapped with butter soft, hand sewn leather too. It was just digusting and I loved it.

When I entered the Adidas store I could feel that I had everyone’s attention. It’s not like in the States where people are double clutching their purses, but more like a “Sacre Bleu! This Negro is big!” To my amazement it wasn’t my girth that had everyone on my shit this time. It was my shoes. The Adidas P.T.76 was a gift from G.A.M.E. Rebellion for getting them the hookup to do an in-store concert with Adidas. These fools in the Paris Adidas store hadn’t even seen this shoe. For a sneaker freak like myself that is like the equivalent of being shipwrecked on an island full of HALLE BERRYs. If I had more than a pedestrian knowledge of francais I probably could have convinced the sales girl to blow me, or at least got to stick my tongue down her throat. Anyhoo, I wasn’t here for all that. I needed the ROD LAVERs all leather navy bottoms hommes size 47! Damn, no dice.

eyefull upskirt

But since C.S. speaks Haitian French she was able to get me the scoop on another sneaker store close to the Eiffel Tower. On our way to the Tower we found this crepe cart with the best freshly made crepes in the city. In Paris, the crepe is the equivalent to the NYC waterized hot dog in ubiquity only. While the water dog might give you disintery, the crepe tastes just like sex only with a way better smell. This old Parisian made the crepes the classic way too. He poured the batter onto the hot griddle and shaped the pancake widely and thin. I asked ol’ boy to put the nutella spread and Gran Marnier on my joint. He laced me with the G.M. so well that I was drunk for the rest of the evening.

tour a la nois

The next store was similiar to any of the mall format sneaker joints over here. I hate when a store has thirty pairs of the same exact shoe on display. I’m like, “O.K. I get it you have THIS shoe, but do you have it in the lapis colorway?” When I see a hundred pairs of the same shoe I am less likely to buy it on the strength that there will be some square wearing the same shoe that I have. Yeah, I may be a sneaker geek freak, but dammit, my style has pride attached to it.

I knew there was another reason that I brought C.S. along with me for the trip. She has the werewithall to convince me that I should just wait to copp something exclusey and choice and not rush to buy something just because its in my face. She understands the nature of my obessive compulsion and she helps me to keep it in check. I decide that I can wait until tomorrow to take over the world. She agrees with me.

the peoples champs