Welcome to Hollywood!

Oh man, y'all heard of this thing on the Fox entertainment television network called American Idol? This past Tuesday's episode took place in New Orleans so I was all like, "hmm... maybe I'll watch." And so I did, y'all. Unfortunately most of the woadies who auditioned weren't even from New Orleans or Waleeziana. I didn't even see anyone I knew. My brother said he used to know that 10 foot tall accountant who "sang" Eye of the Tiger. Apparently he went to Grace King around the same time my bro went to Bonnabel. Yet more evidence that Grace King sucks at everything, especially Quiz Bowl. EJ QUIZ BOWL FO' LIFE!!! However, I am saddened by the fact that none of my Nerd Patrol woadies decided to try out. Damn, Sir Fatty, you could have wowed Simon with your portly flow. At least there was this fine girl from Ponchatoula who is now my new favorite to win it all. She's this year's Reuben.

So there I was, eating tacos and enjoying the proceedings, when all uh ma sudden this one dude Leroy Wells shows up. What he did next infuriated me. I'm sure y'all know what salad I'm talkin' bout...every other sentence out of his mouth was "CAN YOU DIG IT!!!". Dude blatantly co-opted my catch phrase! How dare he? Is that even legal? What if he takes my catch phrase from me the way William Hung took She Bangs from Ricky Williams? I can't be having none of that, no. So I think I'm gonna take my cues from another sports hero, nearly-destitute Caucasian quarterback Tom Brady, who has valiantly sued General Motors for 2 million dollars. So Leroy Wells, if you're out there, don't be surprised when my lawyers serve you a subpoena...I'ma sue yo ass for 2 million dollars. Thanks for the advice, Tom Brady! You're the best! I would root for you in that game you have to play next week, but I have to root for Donovan McNabb instead since I, in addition to the liberal media as well as all defensive personnel in the NFL, am desirous of seeing a black quarterback succeed.

The pretensions of tyrants, or, George Bush is a stupid fuck

How y'all been living? Y'all heard of this thing they had last week called the Inauguration? That shit was whack to tha maxtreme. I was in DC playing the Wizards when it happened so I can report that they pretty much shut down the whole city. Plus there was an inordinate number of old white people riding the Metro. They were all dressed to the nines, the men with tuxedos and bowties, the women with beautiful evening gowns, everyone looking super silly with supercilious grins on they faces. Like they were doing us everyday commuters a favor by condescending to grace us with their refined presence. Yeah, that made standing for the duration of my commute worth it.

If you're wondering why it took me so long to post on the inauguration, it's because I have been in a coma for the past week. With that admission out of the way, we can move on to my take on President George Walker Bush's inauguration speech: it was quite possibly the most moving oratory my ears have ever had the privilege of hearing. Check out this quote:

"There is only one force of history that can break the reign of hatred and resentment, and expose the pretensions of tyrants, and reward the hopes of the decent and tolerant, and that is the force of human freedom."

Fuck yeah!!! Fo reel, yo, ain't nothing get this wody pissed off more than pretentious tyrants. The other day I'm at the local coffeehouse, when out the corner of my eye who else should I see but that notorious fashion plate, Saddam Hussein! He was sporting one of those insufferably affected black berets he always wears, along with a tweed scarf and a denim jacket that was like 3 sizes too small for him. He also had a perfectly groomed, delicate tinge of facial hair which subtly framed his face in a calculated attempt to make some statement along the lines of "ooh, look at me, I'm scruffy and disheveled in an aesthetically pleasing way...what a burden it is to be an accidental beauty!". To make matters worse, he was thumbing through a hardbound edition of Being and Nothingness while slowly sipping a Tazo Chai Creme Pumpkin Spice Frappuchino Blended Tea. I don't know what he had playing on his iPod Shuffle, but I wager that Joao Gilberto was lurking in the playlist somewhere.

Thanks to President George, we will never live in fear of men such as this. And the free world will remain so. Also, torture makes me horny.

UPDATE: I misspoke earlier in this post when I said I found his speech moving. What I meant to say was that it sounded as though he ate a bowl of alphabet soup, took a shit, wiped his ass with a sheet of looseleaf, and then proceeded to base his speech on the stains.

Fuck Abstinence!

Yo y'all, what it be? Y'all heard of this thing called "abstinence"? I first heard about it a few weeks ago when that Congressional boy Waxman came out with that report attacking abstinence-only sex ed. So that aroused my curiosity...I did some research on it, and I found out some disturbing shit. Abstinence is this new thing that President George invented a few years back to solve the AIDS crisis. A laudable goal, to be sure, but things get a bit sinister when you find out what abstinence actually is. Y'all aren't going to believe this...it turns out abstinence means that you have to abstain from having sex! I'm not even playing!!! What kind of shit is that!!?? Man, I know George has come up with some pretty cool ideas before, like killing ferners and terrists and preventing homos from marrying and cutting my taxes so as to help grow the economy and offering something like $15 million in aid in the immediate aftermath of the tsunami and refusing to read any books except the Bible, but this one is just plain stupid. How you gonna keep the Diesel from getting his skeet on??!! Shit. I say we raise all kinds of hell when Congress tries to pass the mandatory abstinence law.

However, some people been saying that abstinence really works. I don't know enough about it to comment on its efficacy. All's I can say is that I loves me some sex. And what is all this shit about George being "the abstinence President"? I met that dude, and I can with complete confidence tell you that that man is not abstinent! Dude has two kids. Plus, he's married to some woman, and I'm sure they have sex occasionally, or at least sleep in the same bed. Or cuddle regularly. The hypocrisy of those in power appalls me.

I can only think of one potential benefit of the impending mandatory abstinence law: it will make people like James Spencer feel less like losers. Whereas now their virginity is seen as a result of their social and penile shortcomings, after the new law passes their virginity can be construed as begrudging compliance with legal norms. I know Spencer wants some advice on tha ladeez from tha Diesel hisself, so here it is: don't sweat anything now, because in a few weeks sex will be illegal anyway. If you develop a taste for it, you'll just have a harder time forgoing it in the future and you may find yourself in jail or at Guantanamo or something. And definitely don't go molesting boys like you been doing. That ain't cool, man (although I have been hearing that the abstinence bill won't apply to molesting boys, as that would alienate a huge part of George's base).

I'm having a hard time understanding why George would be so gung-ho about this whole abstinence thing. Maybe he wants to decimate the condom industry? I'm sure that would be politically advantageous since the Sooners done got they asses kicked by the Trojans in the Orange Bowl. Getting trounced by a bunch of homosexual latte-drinking condom manufacturers from Hollyweird must have shattered the fragile ego of the buckle of the Bible Belt. But now thanks to George, their self-esteem has been restored. Speaking of molestation and the Trojan War, here's a fictitious rap entitled "Stop Molesting Me (I Smoke Crack)". It was meant to be a duet. My lines are in black, those of my interlocutor are in red:

My neighbor used to molest me/
I told him no but he still caressed me/
I said if you don't stop with this child pedophilia/
I'll tell the cops and I'll tell the media/
Oh shit, he's feeling my genitals/
What should I do? I'll fill my brain with chemicals/
I started smoking crack to escape the pain/
Decided that I liked it so I did it agayne/
And agayne and agayne and agehn/
I'm smoking crack like it's the latest trend/
Smoking crack, reading the Iliad/
I smoke and I smoke, until I'm feeling it/
Put crack rocks in a hollowed-out Philly/
My favorite character is named Achilles/
Achilles!?!? Fuck Achilles, the best is Odysseus!!!/
Of all the Acheans, he be the wittiest/
What about Diomedes?/
Fuck Diomedes!!! Fuck Achilles!!!/
If the Iliad were the Grammies, they'd be Milli Vanilli/
That's silly. Why you gotta be hating on my boy Achilles/
Throwing around your disses all willy-nilly?/
Homer didn't write the Iliad just so you could get your hate on/
I'ma draw an 'X' across your face with my red crayon/

Fuck Danny Fortson!

Yo, y'all, what it is? So anyways, due to some complaining by Moreech, I have decided, err, I done decided, to update y'all as to how my basketball career is going. Very well, in fact. My Heat own the best record in the Eastern Conference, which as you all know is the best conference in the NBA. Plus we beat that rapist Kobe and his sorry-ass Lakers on Christmas Day (which, in case y'all didn't know, is the day when Mary's boychild Jesus Christ was born. I believe it happened a long time ago in Beth-lee-hem. So the Holy Bible say). So I guess in some bizarre way, Man will live forevermore because my Heat are unstoppable. Harry Belafonte in tha house!!!

Anyways, our dominance of the NBA is getting a bit out of hand. I feel sorry for the fans. They pay their hard earned money expecting to see two teams with a professional talent level battling it out on the court, but we make our opponents look like amateurs. We haven't been able to treat our fans to an evenly matched, dramatic, down-to-the-wire game all season. It's getting so bad that the media is now trying to help our opponents out by publishing guides on how to stop me. Which is flattering, actually. But I also wanted to draw y'all's attention to something that's been bugging me. I don't know if y'all heard about this, but there's been some jealous cats directing their hate-stration at me lately. Chief among them is some random dude named Danny Fortson. I think he plays for the Sonics or some shit like that. I don't even know for sure, since neither I nor anyone had ever heard of him until he started talking shit about my ass. Anyway, check out what he had to say.

Fuck that dude. Tell him to average more than 8 points a game, something like, oh, I don't know....26.9!!!!!!!!!

DON'T FLOP AND THEN ACT LIKE YOU CAN HANDLE THE DIESEL.

Dubby B

"Wuh you watchin' the same game I was watchin'!?!?

On a serious note, I have some sad news to relay. Bernard "Buddy D" Diliberto, New Orleans sports radio icon, passed away on January 8th. He was 73. Growing up a Saints fan, I always loved listening to Buddy D's postgame call-in shows. Through the lean years in the mid-90s and especially the disastrous Ditka years, oftentimes Buddy D's postgame ranting and venting were the highlight of my Sunday afternoons.

He was the quintessence of New Orleans. By all measures, he had no business being in radio (or any other media) to begin with. He had a blatant intractable speech impediment, couldn't pronounce names to save his life, and was also hilariously prone to Spoonerisms. Ex: "Dim Jombrowski", "Tyle Kurley", "Joe Yenner, mayor of Kenni", and "torn lee negament". He once praised patients at the Children's Hospital as "courageous boys and girls hooked up to their RVs". He even once mispronounced his own name as "Buzzy D". But honestly, it was his lack of polish, his lack of pretense, his acceptance and celebration of his own shortcomings that endeared him to the city in the first place. New Orleans is a really laid back place, short on style. We didn't really need a suave, sophisticated commentator with a big (or even adequate) vocabulary. A crazy dude who loved the Saints was good enough for us. I realize that a lot of the reasons I'm giving for my admiration of Buddy D sound eerily similar to reasons a Bush supporter might give...I don't at all know what to make of that. Anyway, the point is, he really was a local icon, and deservedly so. I'll never forget his classic Domino's Pizza commercials, in which he donned the Domino's uniform and informed us that on game day you could "buy one peetzer at regula menu price, get a second peetzer of equal uh lesser vayoo...free!". And also those hilarious WWL 870 AM promos in which the camera would film him offering his sage wisdom from every angle imaginable. I seem to recall that those promos had a ton of notable quotes (since Eli and I would quote them all the time at Harris), but the only one I remember is the title of this post. My favorite part about those promos was seeing him struggle while attempting to articulate the call letters of WWL. "You're listening to the Point After on," at which point he would laboriously intone, "duhbuhyuh duhbuhyuh ell". You'd wonder, "Hey Buddy, why don't you just do yourself a favor and move to the other side of the river so you can work at KABC, it'd make your life a lot easier, no?"...but of course Buddy D would have none of that. His love of New Orleans and the Saints prevailed over the allure of the majestic American West with its easy to pronounce monosyllabic radio call letters.

His enthusiasm for the Saints rubbed off on me. Even though he could be hard on them at times (he dismissed those of us who were optimistic enough to predict a playoff berth as "squirrels", plus he's the one who popularized the whole "Aints-baghead" thing), you could always tell the Saints were his team. It can be quite lonely and futile being a die-hard Saints fan, so seeing someone else have that kind of pride in them couldn't help but have a beneficial effect on Saints fandom. It seems strange to so strongly associate a football team with one man (and a commentator at that!, and not even a play-by-play or color guy, but a halftime, pre-, and postgame guy no less), but that's how I inexplicably feel. It's particularly sad to see him go at such a tumultuous time in franchise history, with the issue of relocating to Los Angeles not yet resolved. But on the bright side, this opens the door to a dramatic 2005: the Saints dedicate the season to Buddy D, decide to stay in New Orleans for the long run, and go out and win a Super Bowl while Buddy D provides the postgame analysis for God, who finds the name "Hoe Jorn" absolutely hilarious.

Nothing changes on New Year's Day

OK, so now on to New Year's Eve. The thing about New Year's is that it only happens once a year, so if you mess it up, you just have to suck it up and wait another year to redeem yourself. It's a lot like Columbus Day in that respect. My New Year's wasn't nearly as eventful as Spiggity Spencer's, but I did have a good time. We went to Baton Rouge so I could check out my old stomping grounds (I played college ball there with my boys Chris "Mahmoud Abdul-Raouf" Jackson and Stanley Roberts...TIGERS, BAYBEE!!!). Leno was throwing a partee with a double 'e' at the end. Plus we got to jam a little and play some Smash Bros. Melee. AW YEAH, MELEE IN THA HOUSE!!!!!!! Le Garcon d'Alien and I beat the shit out of whatever sorry ass team Sir Fatty was fielding. Damn it, Fatty, you ain't sposda eat the controllers.

Then Poois, O. Starrett, and I attempted to shoot a music video to the excellent song Biscuit & Pencil by the Welfare Homos, but all uh ma sudden the parteegoers started showing up. Tranah finish shooting a video while the partee was in full effect sorta killed the whole partee vibe for me. To make matters worse, Sir Fatty didn't even hook it up with His Girl's Girl. How you luh dat? Not at all? I know, huh! It's not everyday that tha fly honeez can meet a man of such wealth and power as I, but you wouldn't know that by the looks of things at the party. I mean, it's not like 7'2", 350 pound, NBA championship winning, world class rhyme penning, rhythm guitar playing, Nestle's Crunch endorsing motherfuckers grow on trees, you know. Fuck. So unfortunately, unlike Spaghetti Western, I was not able to make out with any drunk girls. I did, however, manage to surreptitiously glance at Ya Girl's Girl like two or three times. I think she might have had brown hair or something like that.

Then WOW, HOLY SHIT! the clock struck midnight, and everything changed (much to Bono's chagrin). Clothing and hairstyles that had been considered trendy just one second earlier were now suddenly condemned to the dustbin of history, never to be mentioned again save for some snarky remark by Melissa Rivers (who herself always manages to be beyond reproach, fashionwise). It's strange that those so-very-stale-and-tired 2004 trends gave way so quickly to an entire set of fresh, relevant, swanky new trends. I swear, during the course of the very first nanosecond of 2005, I immediately had an epiphany: 2005 will be a big year for printed pattern (i.e. paisleys and geometrics) as well as tweed fabrics made from woven ribbons. Also, 2005 will see bright dramatic jewel colors such as topaz, amethyst, and sapphire vying for attention in a multitude of materials and textures. It's so obviously true, isn't it? I mean, fuck the lame-ass colors of 2004! Aubergine will just bend chartreuse over and fuck it in its passe 2004 ass.

Another strange change was how popular songs that had defined 2004 were instantaneously erased from our collective memory, leaving a gaping void in their wake, at least until the new Ryan Cabrera/Lil' Jon Ultimate Mash-Up comes out next week. Also, it was nice to see millions of lazy Cheetos-addicted people magically channel the determination and willpower to successfully set out to achieve the goal that had eluded them all their lives: buy a treadmill and leave it in the den for a few months before selling it to the neighbors. Well anyway, what is y'all's New Year's Resolutions? I have two. First, I would like to start paying my child support on time. Second, I would like to start using the 'F' word more often on my blog. Fuck.

Mary's boy-child, Jesus Christ, was born on Christmas Day

So I guess I gots to appease my faithful reader(s) by posting on what I done did for the Holidays. Well as y'all may know, I went back down to Waleeziana for a couple of weeks to get my mind right. Didn't quite work, but at least I got to see snow on Christmas. "Snow on Christmas, wha?!?!?!?!" you may ask. Yes, Evan, you giant homo, it fucking snowed in New Orleans on Christmas. And we're talking about fucking proper snowfall too. Substantial chunks of it. Enough to close down I-10 from Kenner to Baton Rouge. Initially we all took it as a God-sent harbinger of an impending Saints' playoff victory. But then the next day that fucking tsunami hit, so after that we stopped trying to ascribe any logical grand purpose to anything God was sending humanity's way. I mean what the fuck, God? Just because it's your only Son's birthday doesn't mean you can get all drunk and send freakish natural disasters our way. Fuck. Go fuck with another planet. Cause all the fucking earthquakes you fucking want over on Mars. Make them like 15.4 on the Richter scale, I don't give a shit, just get it out of your system. If you're so keen on catastrophic weather events, go fucking play with that Great Red Spot shit you created over on Jupiter. I'm sure those Jovians would just love having their makeshift houses be subjected to 360 km/hr winds as well as all kinds of other shit tumbling down from those ammonia clouds or whatever the fuck fucked-up shit you made there. And those fucked-up sandworms you put on Dune. Can't you make just one planet without manifesting your twisted penchant for sadism? Goddamned freak.


Ed: the Saints did not wind up making the playoffs.

Back up in this!

Ya heard? Wuzzup all my peoples?!?! Big Aristotle back from his much needed and much enjoyed vacation. Now it's back to playing basketball with a bunch of motherfuckers. Yay! Anyway, I gots some shit to tell y'all. More on this later, when I feel like it. As Legnon would say, "Bitches be bitchin' and shit". Uh-huh.