Jou’vert is Hard Body!
For DP Dot Com’s new year on the air I thought we’d go in hard talking about GOD, girls and the planet of Brooklyn. Two years ago GOD visited America disguised as an angry Black bitch of a storm named Katrina. She kicked ass too because the Middle Passage was fucked the fuck up like that. Katrina was letting fools know that motherfuckers owe biggtime for all the people that didn’t survive the three months at sea sleeping in their vomit, piss, shit and tears. Katrina made America look every which way like a two bit third world country. At least in Haiti the people are hardbody enough to change presidents.
Sa pase ozetazini?
A shout goes out to my Haitian massive readers this Labor Day, as well as all the displaced, Hebrews, Africans and Blacks in general. Whether your displacement was in 1605 or 2005, at the end of the day it was always all about the benjamins.
Guess who hasn’t slept since Saturday nite?
And then I only napped for a few hours.
Labor Day weekend is when I go hard for the crown and this year is no different. C.S. and I saw two movies at the multi-plex (I fucks with this shit called ‘Sunshine’, not so much for ‘Balls of Fury’). Then we drove to Woodstock to chill at the weekend crib of C.S.’s big homey, Mrs.JEAN-MARIE. Came back to the city and went to Manahatta and then the Prince versus MICHAEL JACKSON throw down. Stopped by PathMark to pick up some lamb chops. I dropped C.S. off at the crib and then I went to RippleBar to get my Jou’vert started off right (shouts to the RippleBar regulars).
Jou’vert is one of my all time favorite New York City traditions. This is the real West Indian Day parade. That shit that happens during the daytime is actually just the residual after-party. For the several hours during Jou’vert the entire Brooklyn goes 7:30. People are naked and rubbing one another in a massive orgy of painted on, sweat drenched drunken bodies. If someone told me that during these times is when the conception rate and murder rate both jumped in Brooklyn I wouldn’t doubt it. With all the spirits being summoned to the corners of Empire Boulevard and Flatbush Avenue I know something freaky is going down. That’s why I go there.
DP Dot Com isn’t a real photoblog, because I ain’t a real photographer so forgive me if I don’t take the best pictures. Keep in mind that I am drunk and ready to fall on my ass from jumping and skipping all night. These are the times when a bump of that yayze could keep me rocking out until Wednesday. That sugarcane shit ain’t for me no more, but I will always fucks with Caribbean Day…
DP = Fried green tomatoes. Guyana jump up!
I heart Brooklyn
Trinidad and Tobago: The Caribbean’s most freakiest islands.
Trini masquerader with mom and bay’bro
Carnival Thugs
PumPum Dancers
