Archive for the ‘Maxed Out’ Category

It’s A Dog’s Life…

Friday, August 8th, 2008

angry dog

DP Dot Com’s very own SUE SIMMONS a/k/a MAXINE sends us this link from Gothamist…

Cheye Calvo, mayor of Berwyn Heights, Maryland, has asked the Department of Justice to investigate the Prince George’s County police after they raided his house and killed his two Labrador retrievers.

There is something seriously askew when police can kick in your door and shoot your dogs just because you ordered a party tin of the chronic. These cops have obviously been watching the ‘Hot Fuzz’ DVD on a loop. No-Knock warrants are the same as warrantless wiretaps. They should be illegal.

Furthermore, what is America coming to when the police run up on a white politician like this? Even MARION BARRY got taken downtown with his dignity intact. As much dignity as a crackhead could have I suppose.

Sheeeeit, what there really needs to be is an investigation on the relationships that people in the D.M.V. (D.C., Maryland, Virginia) area have with canines. And speaking of dog killers from Virgina…

FREE MICHAEL VICK!

vick

Dilation ‘N Curettage by MAXINE

Thursday, July 17th, 2008

gyn

Editor’s note: DP Dot Com’s Rocky Mountain correspondent MAXINE drops by to say “Hi haters!”

The United States of America is a fucking bleeding uterus in need of a full hysterectomy, or something that will clear out the decaying, rotting, decomposing putrid policies of old. Got your attention? The DNC (dilation and curettage) is a medical procedure that literally refers to opening the cervix and surgically removing its contents.

According to my homeboy who is in med school, the first step in the DNC process is to dilate the cervix which happens a couple hours before the surgery. Using a curette (a metal rod with a loop on the end), the lining of the uterus is gently scraped, removing the lining and any abnormalities.I know what you’re thinking, who the hell wants to have a sharp rod-like object inserted into their pussy for the purpose of “scraping?” Maybe that question is phrased poorly.

The point is, while a seemingly painful and obviously evasive procedure, the DNC actually allows for re-growth of certain cells made overshadowed and complacent by “abnormal” cells. Some women have even reported the process as therapeutic and remedial, a method of destroying and rebuilding, if you will.

Getting in bed with politicians isn’t easy. In some way they are corrupt or have/will use their power to serve a selfish interest. In that case, shit, being human isn’t easy. The DNC that will take place in my city, the Mile High city, is already destined to go down in history. In an age where a white man from North Carolina who gives a damn about the poor is trumped by a brother from the tropics who surfs (no, assholes, not Tim Duncan) and a woman who condones infidelity,
it’s safe to say that somebody needs to witness this shit.

I live so close to the action, hell, I’ll be fucking the convention face to face, and it’s gonna be damn good.

The 3:10 to Denver. You know you wanna ride this train.

Starbucks Starlet by MAXINE

Thursday, May 22nd, 2008

coffy

Editor’s note: Sent via e-mail…

What up DP?
I hit on a girl in the Starbucks the other day. It was totally by accident but it was so cheeky and real I thought I’d share it with the fam. See you in NYC.
Peace,
MAX

It’s a beautifully perfect 75 degrees in the shade kind of day. I’m feeling good as I’m walking through Denver. The Boss, Diana Ross, is blaring from a passing car. I know it’s going to be a great day.

“I got the sweetest hangover / I don’t wanna get over / sweetest hangover…”

I step into the nearby Starbucks, you know, the bourgeois one, prepared for the ridiculous comments from the barista about my “cool earrings” or my “fly nail polish” when, the unthinkable happens.

In walks this sister. No I said this Sister. You know the type, low bun, earth toned in theme and hue, different color browns and tans, had my mind wrapped around lands of amber. Freckles sprinkled across her nose, door knockers on, just to show a little hood with the 9-5 steez.

See, she’s just like me, walking to the beat of our ancestor’s drum in every way, I watch her. The vibrations from her high heels reach the nape of my neck. She’s checking the juices; wheatgrass or honey? I slide up next to her and say, “Honey, makes everything sweeter…”

Don’t H8 Haiti by MAXINE

Friday, May 2nd, 2008

port au prince

Editor’s note: DP Dot Com’s resident rude gyal goes in on the politiricks of poverty and privilege.

I’m telling you now, don’t even fucking read this drop if you aren’t prepared to get angry. Do you know what the fuck is going on in Haiti? People are starving and dying and rioting in the streets over the rising costs of food, meanwhile back at the motherfucking ranch, President Bush was parading the Pope around as if all is well in the world of Hail Mary’s and evangelistic molestations instead of doing something concrete about it. So now I guess its all good for Catholics to starve to death as long as no one diddles around with their genitals?

Haiti is the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere. The poorest country on our side of the world and for quite some time, this was largely due to government corruption and an unstable economy, it wasn’t until a deal in 1986, that Haiti became the United States’ bottom bitch. After former dictator Jean Claude “Baby Doc” Duvalier raided the treasury, Haiti received a loan from the International Monetary Fund (IMF). This is basically a pool of rich ass heads of countries that have the dough to lend cash to other countries, opening a door for micromanagement and unrealistic views of democracy.

I don’t have to tell you that the United States is one of the richest countries in the world, making it easy to understand the strong influence in the IMF. The loan to Haiti was heavy, and I’m not just talking about the $24.6 million price tag. See, prior to this deal, there were strong protections to ensure Haiti’s place in a competitive agricultural market, making it difficult for other countries, specifically the US to sell its merchandise in Haiti. As a part of the deal, Haiti agreed to relax the tariff laws, making the market prime “real estate” if you will.

The President of the World Bank (right, you know his ass isn’t starving) cites the following reasons for the 141 percent increase in food costs.

  • Fuel costs (translation-the fucking war in Iraq. A barrel of oil costing $113 is gotdamn criminal)
  • Weather problems (translation-global warming)
  • Increased demand in China and India (translation-those motherfuckers need to stop having so many babies and pay some bills)
  • Biofuel from cereal crops (translation-Bio-fuel? I don’t even know what that means, seeing as how only a quarter of Haiti’s 2,500 miles of roads are paved, who is driving?)
  • This whole thing reads like a drug deal gone bad. Sure, Haiti has always been fucked up, bruised up, knifed up, and prone to a good Coup on any given day but the United States started this whole thing. By perpetuating the “rice war” it caused the country to compete with itself, meanwhile the imported “Miami rice” was monopolizing the whole market through larger quantities, poorer quality and cheaper prices. Subsidized rice importers are making upwards of $700 million a year on the strength of Haitian imports alone. This means the rice dealers are selling us their shit, and selling it to the Haitians too all the while jacking up the prices. We’re way too concerned with gas prices to pay attention to what’s on the other side of that welfare size bag of Uncle Bens though.

    This annoys the shit out of me. They will have us believe that even though there are a bunch of starving motherfuckers in this world, Haitian farmers, can’t produce sales. The truth is that the Haitians were hoodwinked and didn’t even realize it. By relaxing the tariff laws, Haiti swam right down into the belly of the beast. Why isn’t the US importing Haitian rice to deal equal? Oh, see, there are specific laws that prohibit the sale and distribution of rice not processed, bagged and shipped in the US. Surprised? Read the NAFTA Clauses.

    People can’t eat. They are burning tires in the streets in demonstrations of the burning pain of “Clorox,” the name Haitians have likened to the stinging feeling of emptiness and despair in their stomachs. Food. Who was it that said the United States is the only place where people hunt on a full stomach? This country is fucked up and if you didn’t know it before now, there isn’t a thing I can do to help you. Sure, some countries have done what they can but before you start with that ‘benefit of the doubt’ bullshit, the $200 million in UN aid Bush pledged, aside from not going to the most affected areas, all of the food and supplies purchased with that money is siphoned through US products, merchants and distributers, making it only about half that amount to be divided through the hunger drenched countries.

    When do we get mad? We stood by and watched Kenya burn, all the while a shady deal was being brokered behind closed doors. We forgave President Clinton for ignoring Darfur. We watched our brothers and sisters, our people drown when the levees broke and the White House gloated over a “heck of a job.” We saw our grandmothers stand in line, their eyes shining with pride at completing the oldest form of citizenship, only to have their vote stripped away by the dickless sons of bitches who are supposed to represent our interests. We cheered on the Jena 6 and then forgot those motherfuckers when they couldn’t even wear a damn suit to the BET Awards.

    I don’t know the solution, but I’m sure that eating less and driving less has something to do with it.

    I stay woke. Believe that.

    Word to Samuel Dalembert.

    They Shootin! by MAXINE

    Thursday, March 27th, 2008

    sarajevo

    Editor’s note: MAXINE picks up the slack here at DP Dot Com while we traverse the friendly skies.

    STOP!!

    I care too much about the safety of the American flyer not to tell this story. Hear me and understand that there is no ulterior motive or hidden agenda and this is truly for the sake of all who travel through God’s blue sky. This is a true story, from which I have nothing to gain.

    I was on the flight from Denver to Charlotte where the pilot’s gun discharged. I felt weird the whole morning. You know how you just feel it? I knew there was something I needed to pay attention to and as a very alert and instinctual person these gut feelings have helped me in the past so I knew
    not to dismiss them.

    We boarded and began preparing for takeoff, I was having a pleasant conversation with one of the male flight attendants about the warm weather sure to greet us in Charlotte, and I noticed one of the first class passengers being shaken and tossed about! Surely this was not US Airways policy and I was not going to stand for this direct violation of human rights so I marched over straightaway and said,

    “He is a human being first, even if he is flying first class!!!”

    The flight attendant responded, “Well show me your W-02 forms then if you think I’m being so unfair.”

    Hmm.

    I retreated to 22F and returned to praying for my “Baron Davis Twists Ankle” headline before opening the Denver Post. We settled in, me enjoying the view from my window seat, when an hour in I heard glass shattering! The commotion seemed to come from the front of the plane so I immediately pulled off my sunglasses and headed in the direction of someone needing assistance.

    Forgetting my own safety, I threw the curtain aside and hurled myself all the way through the first class cabin to the door of the cockpit. I knocked and banged repeatedly saying, “This is Maxine, from 22F and I’d like to be let in to facilitate this apparent emergency.”

    The pilots informed me that a bird with what looked like Iraqi markings on its wings had flown a bit too close for comfort so the co-captain pulled out his four-fifth to let him know that US Airways ain’t having it. When the gun discharged it created a small hole in the floorboard so I repaired it quickly using my pocket sized air compressor for oxygen.

    Crisis diverted, I engaged the co-captain in a game of Sudoku and chided him into better spirits, sometimes accidents do happen with guns right?

    “Maxine?”

    “Yes?”

    “Our records show that while you were on Flight 1536 from Denver to Charlotte, you were on the Thursday flight, this incident occurred on Saturday and was not nearly as exciting as you reported it to be.”

    “Ah yes, but the internets are not concerned with the minutae, strawberry yoghurt or vanilla yoghurt, ’tis all the same in the end. What matters not is the day that I went, only that I did go. The matter at hand is the safety of the American flyer!”

    “Yes, but do you think your comments can be seen as, ah, misleading in that what you said happened could not possibly have occurred, given the accounts of the pilots and staff aboard the Saturday flight from Denver to Charlotte?”

    “Listen, I’ve been awake at hours that would make the average American cringe, way past 3am I might add, holding my candle to the light of hope that the Nuggets will make the playoffs. There are causes that require my passion and time so forgive me if I am, God forbid, a sleep deprived human being and forget minor details in a story that happened ages ago.”

    Only in America.

    sarajevo

    sarajevo