Super-Villain Style

Muhammad Gets Life

Prosecutors introduced DNA and ballistics evidence to link the two to the shootings which took place over three weeks in late 2002, terrifying people in and around the US capital.

John Allen Muhammad was sentenced to six terms of life in the glorious Maryland prison system. I don’t know how you could possibly serve six terms of life. I would assume one term of life would be enough. I mean, you live and you die. Wouldn’t that be considered one life term? Maybe life in law means something entirely different than life in the real world.

I think he’s been given the death penalty in another state, maybe Virginia. So, what happens now? He serves a little time in Maryland, then he’s shipped over to Virginia so he can be slaughtered like a pig. Or maybe not, because I think he has a couple of more trials to go through down in Alabama or somewhere.

But I figure the government would try to use the first chance they get to assasinate a brother. So, I’m guessing if the Virginia conviction isn’t overturned, Muhammad will find himself sucking up some poison pretty soon. By soon, I mean in a decade or so. You know how those death penalty appeals go.

The sad thing about it all, if you could call it sad, is that Muhammad’s own homeboy, Malvo, turned snitch on old dude and served as a witness for the prosecution. How would you feel if the dude who Ryde and Died, or Ryde and Killed with you all of a sudden turned snitch to avoid a lengthy sentence? I know I’d be peeved like a mutha. You can’t do dirt with a man and then turn snitch and spill your guts afterwards. Can’t trust nobody in these streets when you’re muddy hustlin’. Everybody’s out to get a brother. Ain’t that right, Busta.

Makes a person like me feel conflicted. Part of me is glad old dude is off the streets. You can’t have somebody driving around taking shots at people, including little children and black people — especially black people.

How can a black man take shots at other black men, especially someone with the last name Muhammad? You can’t be a Muslim and take the name of the prophet in vain and bust off rounds into your fellow negro. Ain’t this negro ever heard of the NOI? Make me wanna assassinate this dude myself.

Matter of fact, just gimme the gat so I can smoke this mutha…

We’ve just finished celebrating Memorial Day, where we honor and remember the sacrifices our men and women in the Armed Forces have made throughout our country’s history. The day, for most people, was also used to spend time with our family and friends, connecting, and reconnecting in some instances, with those we love.

I feel blessed to live in a country where I can type, or write, or say, almost anything I want. Sure, there are those instances where you definitely have to watch what you say, but in the end, this country protects the rights of its citizens far greater than any other nation on this planet. That’s why so many on this planet want nothing more than to be here. It is also why our enemies want to destroy us. They fear what it means to be an American, or better yet, they fear the ultimate idea of what America is and what this nation can ultimately be.

But there is one thing that they do not understand: the only thing that can destroy America is America itself. That’s why the Civil War is still considered one of the greatest wars in our history, and in some minds it may rank second only to the American Revolution, where this country gained its independence, and where the ideals that stand and have evolved until today were first born. It is this war, where brother fought brother, and where every American mother cried and suffered, that brought this nation to the brink of extinction, all due to differences of ideals and beliefs.

And that is why every man and woman today should value greatly the inherent right of voice that is given through the birth on Republican soil, that is developed and nurtured by Democratic education and law, and that is inacted through vote and protest. It is this right, first made concrete through the Bill of Rights, that the American soldier strives to fight for through battle and war. And it is this right that they die for every day around the world. And for that, I thank them. Because if it were not them, then it would be me.

Tall Isrealis and the X
The U.S. Gets Their Jew.
Arabs Rejoice Everywhere!

The man who helped many young men get laid pleads not guilty to them nasty drug charges.

An Israeli identified by federal prosecutors as one of the world’s biggest distributors of Ecstasy pleaded not guilty Wednesday to federal charges that could put him in prison for four decades.

The government thinks this dude, Zeev Rosenstein, brought into the U.S. over 1 million Ecstasy pills between the years of 1999 and 2001. Major evidence compounded on the Jew Godfather when one of his stash houses in Manhattan was raided by U.S. authorities. The Pigs found over 700,000 tablets in the apartment. He was eventually arrested in Israel in 2004, but because of the weirdness between the U.S. and Israel, he wasn’t extradited until this year. And the kicker, if he’s sentenced, the U.S. has to let him go back to Israel to serve his time because of some bullcrap agreement between the United States and the land of Abraham.

Muslim are locked up indefinitely just out of suspicion, and this dude, who was a major league drug dealer and pimp, gets to serve out his 20 plus in his home country. I call doodie on this. It just don’t smell right.

And where’s the media on this. I ain’t never heard of this dude before. I mean, this dude got connections with the Latins down south. Probably even knew the dudes who sold that coke to my boy, Freeway. I even heard rumors that this was the dude who took out Papa James Evans of Good Times when James found a stash of X hidden in a garbage can while coming home from being fired from the local KFC. I mean, there’s major league dirt on this dude. Even if I don’t know, Lyor Cohen know.

So, it’s no damn excuse that I’m still ignorant on this man. Of course, my ignorance could be the result of me not likey no reading or news, or any other thing educational. Sure, I’m an idiot, but that’s no excuse.. If he was some low level black dude, they’d be parading him all over the place. But because he’s Jewish, this Tall Israeli gets to go to his Jew Supreme Court and talk to his Jew judges and lawyers (redundancy), and talk his Hebrew ass out of serving some fine ass justice in the good ol’ American penal system.

Now you might be thinking that I got issues with the Jews. I’ve been told I have issues with the Jews. Well let me just state that I don’t have any issues with the Jews. The Jews are my people. And if they weren’t white, we’d be all cool and stuff. But unfortunately, the Jew has been cursed with the pigmentation of their oppressors. And therefore, their minds have been tainted with that devilish sickness. And that means a negro can’t trust’em.

And that’s just too bad. Because a brother like me could see myself doing business with the dude. I may hate the liquor and crack, but the X is alright with me. I’m not into doing the stuff, but if a chick want to pop a couple of’em and act like a whore in front of me, I’m all for her doing so. It’s like having an abortion. A chick gotta right to treat her body as badly as she wants to. The only person she has to answer to is her God.

Apparently there’s asbestos where I work. I came in early today and found some dudes in those biohazard suits taking out plastic bags of white stuff. And not the good white stuff.

I went upstairs and saw that they had a section of the floor cornered off with big walls of plastic. One of the biohazard dudes said that the roof had collasped over the weekend, and that no one was permitted into the quarantined sections. Not that they had to worry about me going anywhere near there because if you mention “quarantined area,” I know to stay the heck out. It’s like having a “murdering section,” or a “free bullet in the ass room.” You just don’t have to tell me not to enter. I just sort of know it. It’s implied.

I can only assume that when the roof collasped, some of that asbestos must have gotten released into the air. Many of the old builders purposely used asbestos as a heat insulator and a flame retardant. I read this on Wikipedia where I get most of my misinformation.

I use Wikipedia all the time. If i need to know something, i just load up Wikipedia and do a search. Some say that it’s unreliable, that some of the information on there isn’t right. But I don’t care. It’s not like I knew the real deal anyway.

If I get misinformation, it won’t really matter much. It’s not like someone’s gonna correct me. I’m usually the smart one in my circles. So, my information is usually the real information. It’s like I’m the truth.

Take some crap I told somebody about Moses the other day. We were talking about terrorists or something, and like always, the conversation turned on the Jews and Israel. We were trying to get the real deal on Moses. And I was trying to remember that BDP song, You Must Learn. At least I think that’s the song. You know the song: “Abraham was the father of Isaac/ Isaac was the father of Jacob/ Jacob had twelve sons for real / And these were the children of Israel.” I honestly don’t know if that’s a direct quote or not. I just put quotes around it to be safe.

Now, I was trying to mix some of that with the Ten Commandments. And not the real Ten Commandments. I’m talking about the movie, “The Ten Commandments,” the one with Charleston Heston in it, the one where Edward G. Robinson says, “Where’s your Messiah now, beyotch!” Well, he doesn’t actually say that, but he says something like that.

Now, wasn’t Joshua one of Moses followers in that movie? Isn’t he the one who puts the blood over this chicks door, the chick who was doing Edward G. Robinson? Isn’t Joshua the one that Moses sends to Israel to lead the flock when God tells Moses that he can’t cross over? Rather I’m right or not, I pretty much fancied up my info and presented this history to my group of friends. I laid it out like it was the truth. And they believed me. And when I got home, I checked out Wikipedia to see if I was right. And I found out I pretty much was.

Now see, without reading one bit of the Bible, I’ve pretty much given you most of the early bits of it. If you remove how I got that information, from a BDP song and from the Ten Commandments movie, I may seem pretty smart and righteous. People regularly remark about how much I know my Bible, and they don’t know that I’m really a heathen at heart and get most of my Biblical teachings from pop culture. Because it definitely doesn’t come from reading. I haven’t read anything since, I don’t know, 1985.

So, I guess what I’m trying to say, kids, is that if you really want to impress your friends with your brains, you need to do what I do: listen to a lot of music and learn the lyrics; watch a lot of television (you can stay away from the news. It teaches you nothing); watch a lot of movies, preferably the highfalutined ones (Who knew that highfalutin was a real word. Thanks Wikipedia); and read only comic books (the real books have too many words, and it takes too much time to read them).

If you do this, it will be no time before your brain gets all big and stuff.

There’s been a lot of Mexicans protesting around the country over the past couple of months. There was this big protest in Chicago that pretty much messed up traffic downtown. I heard that there were other immigrant groups among the Mexicans, but the news only talked about the Mexicans.

I really don’t know what they’re marching for. In fact, I don’t think some of them know what they’re marching for, at least everybody but the Mexicans. I think the gist of the argument seems to be about work. Mexicans work jobs nobody else wants to work, and therefore Mexicans think they should get citizenship for that. But I don’t know if that applies to Arabs and Brazilians.

I haven’t met too many Brazilians. It seems like the only Brazilians that come to the U.S. for work are supermodels. And i think they get paid pretty nicely. Now, I wouldn’t mind granting a few Brazilian supermodels citizenship, because those chicks really do serve a purpose, a great service.

In fact, I have no problem giving most illegals citizenship. They’re here. They’re working. I think some of them pay taxes, or at least they get taxes taken out of their checks like the rest of us, unless they’re getting paid in cash. I wish I was getting paid in cash. At least 250 bucks gets taken out of my check every two weeks, whole bunch of crap I don’t even know about. Like, what the hell is Fica. I don’t know what the hell Fica is, but it takes at least 80 bucks outta my ass everytime. I feel like I’m being raped every two weeks. Damn you, Uncle Sam.

Where was I? The Mexicans. Depending on the day, my views on illegals can change like that. Today, I could care less about illegals, and tomorrow, I wanna ship’em all back to Africa. Yeah, Africa. Then maybe they won’t make it across the borders again. Maybe send them over to the Middle East. I wouldn’t mind seeing that culture clash. Probably end up with a couple of more Padilla-like terrorists, talking, “matar a los americanos imperiales asquerosos. Gran jihad en sus familias. Comer a tus niños, rodarlos para arriba en burritos. Ummmm, bueno.”

I wonder if that came out right.

I woke up feeling pretty good today. Although, deep inside, I felt like something bad was coming my way. I talked it off as me just wanting to brace myself just in case something bad happens. So, I shake it off, and I come to work. And when I get here, I continue telling myself that everything will be okay.

And I start doing my work, my fifteen minutes of it. And something bad hits me in the face. I can’t really go into detail, but I find out something bad has happened to a friend of mine at work, and I won’t be seeing them any longer. And for some reason, I wanna lower my head and pour out the tears.

But i continue working, stopping in between to catch myself, because I can feel myself holding back the tears. This fuckin’ place has taken out one of the few people who had my back around here, one of the few people who had my back in the whole fuckin world. Now I got a big dot on my back. And I don’t feel so secure anymore.

But that’s not why I wanna cry. I wanna cry because this one person pushed for me to come here. And she pushed for me to get this job. She fought hard for me. She talked up for me when I didn’t feel I could talk up for myself. And now I’m here, and she’s gone.

That shit ain’t fair.

But the day ain’t over either…

I work to get paid. I only work to get paid. I stare at my desk for most of the day, maybe type crap to this blog, or surf the web, all so that I can look like I’m working, so that I can justify getting paid.

I think I only do about an hour or two of actual work every day. And yet, I can’t quit this job because I gotta pay the rent.

I left my old job because my boss was an ass, and I always feared that I could lose my job like that. And I took a job where my boss is pretty cool, but I still feel like I could lose my job just like that. And I think that completely sucks.

At least with my last job, I had a little fight still left in me. Now, I got nothing. I’m running on empty. I really wanna scratch my own eyeballs out just so that I can finally start feeling something once again in my life. I’m a shell of the man that I used to be. And I do all of this because of my wicked sense of loyalty and obligation.

I’m obligated to the world. I’m so loyal to the universe. I owe the powers that be big time for all the dumb shit I did over the last decade. I gotta make amends to myself and the world around me for the listless life I lived for over ten years. I can’t believe I did so little in so great a span of time. And I’m trying to do something right for the first time in my life. And I haven’t gotten the hang of it.

I’m sure that there’s a better way to do this. I know people that say that they are happy with their life. They love their life. They love their wives and their kids and their jobs. They get along with their families. They live in nice big houses and get two new cars every couple of years. And they don’t stress about the shit they did in the past. Because they know that everything will be alright, because everything is alright.

I need to get where they’re at. Only problem is that i hate everything about what they have and how they think and how they got to think about how to get what they have. Whatever.

I don’t want a wife. I don’t want kids. And I honestly don’t believe I’d ever be happy with any 9 to 5 type job. It’s the way I was born. I’m a noncomformist. And I can’t stand that I was made this way.

Thank you, God. You really fucked me up, didn’t you. You really made me an asshole. And you made it so that I can never be happy in this world. And I see a pattern.

First, Adam and Eve. And Moses not being able to go to Israel after leading his people to it. And Job. And Jesus being crucified on the cross. I don’t see a lot of righteous dudes living happily ever after.

And that’s because you can’t be a revolutionary and live happily ever after. Martin and Malcolm know what I’m talking about. They know how a righteous brother feels.

And the weird thing, I know I’m the prime example of the man who doesn’t live up to his destiny. And how do I know I haven’t lived up to my destiny? Well, that’s easy, because I’m still alive. And the man hasn’t assassinated me yet. And I know the man wants to assassinate a brother cause I see how the devil treats a brother.

Only thing is the devil got me in a worser way. Instead of becoming a martyr for the masses, I’m working this shitty ass job, doing nothing, typing this bullshit to this site. And that means I ain’t even half the man that I was supposed to become.

The only positive is that I still got some time left. Jesus wasn’t crucified until he was 33. So, I got at least until that shit.

It’s a brand new year.  Start of something good and wholesome.  Or not. 

I don’t know.

I would say that I’m more optimistic this year.  Not to say that I was completely pessimistic before.  I think I was somewhere in the middle. 

I mean, an average morning, you wouldn’t see me jumping out of bed chirping and waltzing around, but I also didn’t piss on the floor and cry in the bathroom.  I was somewhere in between.  In fact, I’m still somewhere in between.  I definitely don’t believe from the start that everyday will be good.  But I also don’t think everyday will be crap.  I sort of take that shit for what it is, and I analyze that shit in the end.  I don’t know if a day was crappy or good until the very end, possibly even until the next day.

Take yesterday.  I was sleepy as hell.  I haven’t been able to get any sleep for the past three to four weeks.  I’ve been living off of three hours max of sleep a night.  That has led to some fucked up mornings.  I literally went to sleep on the floor yesterday at work.  I was getting some files, and I sat on the floor to sort through them, and while I was sitting there, I went to sleep.  I woke myself up with my snoring.  It was crazy.  And during lunch, I went outside to get some air.  I figured the cold air would wake me up.  So, I sat on this bench.  And I went to sleep there for about forty-five minutes like some bum.  I was pretty much out of it the entire day.

Now, I personally hate when I’m out of it like that.  I just don’t feel all good and shit.  It ain’t my style to walk around all loopy.  You never know when the man’s gonna try and pull some shit on a brother.  I gotta keep my eyes out for the weirdos, crack hos, and white devils.  We all know they constantly trying to take a brother down.  So, being all dazed and confused just don’t work for me. 

Anyway, the point I’m getting at is that yesterday didn’t start out all that hot for a brother.  I couldn’t wait to get off from work, if only so I could put myself through the torture of laying in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying unsuccessfully to get a little shut-eye.  And by the end of work, I wasn’t all that optimistic. 

But then the second half of my day started.  I was standing at the bus stop waiting, desperately trying not to tip over.  It was cold as hell, and I was tired.  I really wasn’t looking forward to getting on the bus and standing my way all the way home.  It defeats the purpose.  Who the fuck thought of the idea of paying to stand on a bus?  Sure, it beats walking.  But if I pay, I’m sitting.  I don’t give a fuck.  I’ll force my ass between two old people in the front.  I’ve even contemplated sitting next to a funky, pissy ass-smelling homeless person. 

So, here I was standing at the bus stop.  And, ahem, lo and behold, I hear a horn honking.  I look in the direction of the noise.  And I notice this chick I hadn’t seen in a couple of months.  We used to work together at my old job.  And here she was right before me in her nice shiny new car with the yellow license plates.  She offered me a ride home.  And we exchanged numbers before I got out.

Let’s just say, when I made it in, I was feeling pretty good for the first time that day.  And the day hadn’t ended yet.  I went online, checked my e-mail and found out that my income tax dough was on it’s way to daddy.  I also got a little gift from some kid who sent me 10 bucks just because.  He sent that shit through Paypal.   Apparently, he came across my blog and liked what he read, or not, and still decided to send me some dough because I’m so pathetic and broke.  I have to be pathetic to get all giddy about receiving 10 bucks.  But y’all don’t know.  10 bucks can hook a brother up with gristle for an entire week.  And if you add four more 10 bucks to that shit, that’s ass, albeit, cheap crackho ass.  But ass nonetheless.

Of course, I’m skeptical of my benefactor.  I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.  I think I can expect some weird request from this bastard in the next 7 - 10 days.  Maybe he’ll ask me to send pictures of me wiping my bottom, or fuckin’ a whole Tyson chicken fryer.  It’ll be some weird shit.  And just for the record, I don’t get down like that.  Unless, ahem, you’re a hot chick.  Then, and only then, can you expect to receive several naughty pictures from me, rather you want them or not.  Maybe me rubbing my naked body down with Vaseline,  or me cleaning some panties in the bathroom sink with only a thong on.  I bet you’ll like that, won’t you.  Yeah you will.  You freak you.

Anyway, getting back to the dough.  I figure if I get 10 bucks from 10 people this month, I might be able to get that one thing I haven’t been able to get all 2006, some ass.  That’s right, Doc ain’t been laid all year, that is, all year 2006, and he needs some ass for the coming year.  The coming year, ha, I kill myself.  So, if I can raise a hundred or more dollars, I could get laid by the end of February.  Of course, if you want to send over a hundred, I’m cool with that.  I see it as, the more the money, the better the whore’in.  I mean, which would you want me bangin, some old ass Madonna-lookin’ crackho, or some nice slutty, over the top, Mariah Carey-lookin’ crackho.  Or better yet, how about a non-crackho.  Although, that may be hard to find since most hoes are on somebody’s pipe.  Get it.

PS.  I finally got some sleep.  Thanks George Bush and the State of the Union.  I needed that.

Controversy

Friday:  Jay Dilla - Donuts Review

What do you wanna do when you grow up?

My boss asked me that shit some time ago. And I wanted to slap the shit outta her. I’m a grown man, and that’s how you greet me? Bullshit. I understand she was trying to make a point. But really.

I know i’ve been pretty aimless, careerwise. I pretty much take shit as it comes. I have no goals. I have no aspirations. Or at least that’s how it seems on the outside. Truth is, I have goals. The only problem is that I don’t think my goals will ever lead to me getting paid. And a brother needs to start getting paid.

See. I have this problem. Let’s say I got this cool job doing this cool thing. You would think I’d be happy forever. But I know me. I wouldn’t. Within four or five months, I’d find myself completely bored with this cool job. And I’d find myself trying hard to get up to go to this cool job. I’d eventually take days off from the cool job for no apparent reason. And I’d come to really hate this cool job. I know this shit because I’ve been there.

I’ve worked in a cool job before, and I couldn’t stand my fuckin’ job when I eventually left it. When you waste time doing cool shit all day, by force to do cool shit, everyday, all day, you eventually end up not wanting to do cool shit ever, especially when you should be doing cool shit for yourself when you’re not doing cool shit for pay.

Get the dilemma. Do I have passion for my work? And I have to admit that I’ve never loved any job I’ve ever had. Not one. The repetitive nature of work doesn’t lend itself to love. It’s an oxymoron to include love and work in the same sentence. That’s like having a passion for breathing, or eating, or shitting. It’s all the same thing.

You sleep because you have to. You wake up and take a piss because you have to. You go to work because you have to. You eat during the day because you have to. You eventually shit that crap out because you have to. It’s all part of the daily grind.

There’s no choice to repetition. There’s no thought, no love, no hate, no nothing. You do it because you have to. There’s no passion to shitting, unless you’re some fecal-loving freak. These things are done because they’re part of the natural progression. That’s like giving thought to the form of hand and foot. You only think about shit like that when you’re stoned. But when you’re sober, you take the nature of things for what it is: Living.

My job is my life, but I do not have a passion for it. I do not live for it. I live because of it. And that’s why I’m forced to continue to have one, like the rest of you. If I had a dream, it would be to forego the job, but then I wouldn’t be able to eat. And I like to eat.

What I love, I will never inflict to the natural repetition of nature. I will always fight against it. And therefore, I will always be unhappy. Because what I do, and what I do, are parallel, and will never meet. And I keep them apart by will alone. I do it by purpose, on purpose, in the hopes, in some weird dream, I will finally be able to leave what I do so that I might be able to devote myself fully to who I am.

Never let a hoe take you down.

The universe is filled with lying, conniving, backstabbing hoes. They love to bring a brother down. They sink their fuckin’ teeth in your skins like dogs, up into your veins like vampires, and they try to suck the fuckin life force from your fuckin’ body like the stank ass sluts that they are. Filthy ass muthafuckas, trying to take a righteous brother down. But I ain’t going out like that. I’ll fight your fake asses. I swear to God, if you ever take me out, I’m grabbing a couple of you hoes on the way down. You hear me Rhonda. You fuckin’ listening, Sue. I ain’t going for the okeey-doke. I’ll kill you beyotches before I let any of you take me down. I’ll do serious time. I ain’t fuckin around.

And to think, I had the nerve to wake up all happy and shit, and a beyotch had to go and call a brother and fuck up the rest of his fuckin’ day. You hoes love gossiping. You love seeing two brothers swinging hard on one another. I don’t give a fuck. Fuck you. Fuck Leon. Fuck Sue. And fuck you too, Rhonda. From now on, all you beyotches are dead to me. From this day forward, you hoes get no moe love.

Yep. Never show love to your enemies. Truth is, you should never show hate either. They don’t deserve any of that shit. Nope. You look your enemies in their fuckin’ eyes and you fuckin’ smile. You say Good Morning, and Good Night. You tell them that you hope they have good weekends. And in the back of your mind, you plot your revenge. You plan for success, because success is the best revenge. And you look forward to their downfall. You plot their downfall. It may take time, but one day it’ll come.

I swear to you, Lord. One way or another, it will come.