your lines are no fund. how do you expect us to bond over such lines? i don't bank on laughing at your jokes any time soon, although over time, i may grow to appreciate their value. for the stolen moment, they make no cents, and that is the abstract truth, even if it does give you the blues. i don't mean to be rudy, but i felt i had to theile you, for to keepnews to myself would not have been helpful. ron, remember that you are the mcmaster of your own fate, and you can engineer an improvement in your comments if you give your soul to the lord jesus. or, you could give your seoul to the koreans, and stop pretending to live like a rodney king. i know that line was not a riot, but i was distracted while writing it. i had a thought; why can't we all just get a long penis? i realize the society wants to police my thoughts, but i plead not guilty to the brutalization of my mind. denny wants to criticize me, but as far as i'm concerned, he can keep his mouth shut, for he is no angel himself.
the guy in charge of the copy center persists in making over the top remarks. foul language and sexual imagery abounds. but, he's gay. that seems to be his saving grace. if only someone had the will to fire him. richard, pryor to working with the priest, i had never dealt with a co-worker who was so disgusting. at least the year is almost over. the fact, is, i would like to carver up, but that would be a gaffey on my part, for you can betty that only i would get in trouble, and that would not be a step to success. for you see, i am upward bound, and i can not afford to be dealing with the h-cops at this point in my life. rather, i will persist in being an urban scholar, a john legend in my community. for umass remember that while you cannes film globally, you must act locally. cause i'm not looking for a tyson, i'm trying to win, and the only way to win is to make the rich feel they are experiencing helen earth. the rich are not our buddies. friends are for television. in reel life you have to make your movie quickly, and act now before the show is ended for good. i know i have your two thumbs up, and that means a lot to me, for wayne you have the support of the people, it makes your struggle seem a little bit shorter. for i realize it won't be easy. i will likely be put on a blakey list, for their golson is to eliminate everybody with merritt, jymie. yes, it will be an art-orous task, but if i can drum up enough support, and if stan getz the messengers out to enough people, i think we will steve soares like an eagle and fly like a donald byrd. vic torre will be ours, joe.
this should tell you a little something about the town of brookline. some parents are upset that a guy who owns an ice cream truck sells unhealthy food to their children. he parks across from the school. now, nobody is forcing these kids to buy from this guy. and by the way, i don't see these same people protesting all the pharmacies and fast food joints near by where the kids go for their daily fill of garbage. so, why stick it to this guy. furthermore, the government is selling unhealthy wars to their children, but this doesn't seem to merit a word of protest. fucking gutless liberals.
now, to be fair, the town has done something i like. the voters recently decided to change the name of the brookline high teams from the warriors to something yet to be decided. i can get with this. however, yesterday, a couple of guys i work with started bitching about the name change..."it's gonna cost the town 75,000 dollars to change all the uniforms. what a waste!" yeah, waste. not quite like the 720 million a day on the iraq war, but that might take some courage and knowledge to criticize. no, better to keep playing cowboys and indians. i listened for a while, and then said, "how about the brookline jews for a new name?" they quickly changed topics.
the story is telling. the average white guy is angry because "the liberals" have gone too far. "now, they are even changing the names of our beloved teams!" we live in a society that has not even begun to face and acknowledge the horrors of its past. and because of this, it is blind to the ongoing horrors of the present. of course, by the "society," i mean the white establishment, for surely the average indigenous person is hip to the genocide. wow, the white man rebels against the smallest apology, fights againt even the most miniscule of acknowledgements. and so, the sickness which will eventually envelop us all grows.
they really haven't found a replacement for the orgasism, have they?
a little about the hip hop cracker. a couple days ago, this white student who sounds black was making fun of latinos. i'm gonna need a score card soon. lately, he has been putting his hand over his mouth in front of muslim students and doing a stereotypical native war cry. i asked him "what are you doing? don't you realize that is insulting?" he responded "if i wanted to insult him, i would have called him the n-word." i dead panned, "if you wanted to insult a kid from pakistan, you would call him the n-word?" he said "yeah."
you know, they used to argue that the white man was racist because he didn't have contact with blacks and other people of color. well, here is a cracker ass cracker with a formidable rap collection who grew up in a housing project. cross lack of contact as an explanation off the list.
could it be that the white man really is the devil? hard to accept while listening to bennett sing "once upon a time" but nothing else seems to fit.
a couple of days ago, b was asked what grade she was in. she replied "she is supposed to be a 10th grader." well, i'm "supposed" to be malcolm x. i'm not, but i'm supposed to be. this is the same girl who stood outside our class door during the middle of our lunch. i went to the door. she asked "is it time for class yet?" i replied that she had lunch for another 20 minutes, and that she didn't even have our class next any way. 5 minutes later, she was back, again standing by the door. her sense of time is weirder than ornette's.
ok brook, don't get benton out of shape that the blog is ending. you knew it was only a matter of time, kiddio, before it ended. i'm gonna go watch some baseball. i hope it's not a rainy night in georgia.
until we meet again, some sunny day, i wish you a vera good day.
1 comment:
In lewis of the news, huey shall sing a Newton song he recently composed about eldrige’s freshly sharpened cleaver, meanwhile clark just kent catch a break. Sam the butcher gives his bobby seale of approval, with one addendum(actually two): Be sure not to brady your hair in a bunchie carter. Also, quit being being a pratt, geronimo, and get with the ten point program so virginia’s beauty may shine through her moustache heart. Barton my French, but if your fink-ass could somehow combine mr. Serling’s rod with the Johnson of don, it would mirror the breathtaking twilight of miami whose heat is unbearable considering the ineffective use of a zone defense in curbing the vices of one david iceberg slim. Listen trick baby, though these references may fall on def jam ears, you must fight to regain your prestige and surrender to your deepest impulse no matter how blue you feel—so note that somewhere in your mind because I am being candid with you. While my skin may be dry, I still desire to eat a plate of scrambled eczema. This nutritious meal will help me ward off eldrige’s cleaver, for I must survive until the month of june and avoid being a wallyflower by any means necessary. Leave it to beaver to fly Up up and away, overeasy and sonnyside up where no bullstitt resides, unless of course all this occurs after hours. mellish, I know that you know about the eternal triangle, but please don’t Rollins along on the sunny side of the street unless you grab your coat and hattie william’s ass whose mammy role should have been gone with the wind and drowned in the ole man river. Yes, that was a weak line of cocaine. The pigs who have a sweet tooth will blame it on the sugarhill gang, but we all know that patty was the one who put that innocent bystander in a hearst between a bad joke and two buns—the ingredients for a symbiosis of liberation and radical ecology. Oh mercy mercy me marvin, that spoiled millionaire heiress will escape jail time and return to her father's charles mansion while the rest of us must pretend to be gaye-- as the homosexuals take the streets in matrimonial celebration. What’s goin on? We must stonewall this recent legislation. How queer it is that some of us decide to strayhorn from the moral path set by god and the policeman’s billie club. I need a holiday. It’s time to take the A train to the Chelsea bridge with Jackie so I can find something to live for. Fuck it, I’ll just take a rain check on the matter and see about getting my lungs examined by the U.M.M.G. (Upper Manhattan Medical Group).
p.s.- to be perfectly frank, it is a sinatra to have impure thoughts about nancy with the laughing face.
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