He got enough rope and the dip shit finally hung himself. I've watched this asshole on TV say his prayers right before going to catch some "bad guy" and then run around screaming mother fucker and calling the bail jumper any number of foul names. Then once the "bad guy' is cuffed, Dog is all about "I know where your at Bro. I've been there" bla bla bla bullshit.
Dog was sentenced to five years for murder. He served less than two and a half. He was a member of some motorcycle gang. You gotta wonder if he sold them out for a lesser sentence.
His fat ass wife refers to him as "Big Daddy". The man is 5'7". He wears special made cowboy boots that make him 5'11". Seems that "Big Daddy" ain't so big after all. Let's not forget his mullet. It's not even real, you can see the weave line.
Now on to catching criminals. Every time they locate a guy it's his sons Leland and Dwayne Lee and his brother Tim doing all the dirty work. They chase the guys down. They tackle them. They put the cuffs on them. Then "Big Daddy" steps up and says "You can't get away from THE DOG". OOHHHH scary stuff.
He turned his own son into the police for drugs. He's admitted this on his show. Now the boy is out of prison, and turn about is fair play. His son recorded "Big Daddy" saying ni**er (I'm using asterisks because Jen asked me to, I don't have a problem writing the word, especially if somebody else said it)no less than six times. Then he sold the tape to the National Enquirer. Way to go "Big Daddy". Good job of turning your own kid against you.
His size is fake. His hair is fake. His bounty hunting is fake. Everything about him is fake. Except his racism. That's as real as it gets. I don't care if he's a racist or not but I do think he should own that shit. He should be real about something.
I've listened to the recording. Dog Chapman is an asshole. here's a guy that claims to be all about God and forgiveness. I guess that doesn't count if you're black. I counted six ni**ers, one mother fucker, one fucked, five fuckings, two fucks and one god damn. Pretty bad coming from such a stand up, praying, god fearing kind of guy.
The best thing about this, is I'll probably never have to watch that show again. I know I could always change the channel, but it's kind of like when I watch COPS. It gives me something to raise hell about.
That's two. 28 more to go.
Keep On Keeping On.
And you fuckers better start leaving some comments.
Friday, November 02, 2007
Thursday, November 01, 2007
NaBloPoMo Number 1
Well here it is the first day of NaBloPoMo. I'm not sure I've got 29 more of these in me. Hopefully this will be the only boring one.
I've been swinging a sledge hammer all day and I just don't have the energy to write anything, plus I could really use a shower (there's a little something for the ladies to think about).
Today is my moms birthday. The old broad is 80. She doesn't look a day over 120 and has the memory of a toddler. But she lives by herself, which puts her in a better spot than most of us.
Keep On Keeping On.
I've been swinging a sledge hammer all day and I just don't have the energy to write anything, plus I could really use a shower (there's a little something for the ladies to think about).
Today is my moms birthday. The old broad is 80. She doesn't look a day over 120 and has the memory of a toddler. But she lives by herself, which puts her in a better spot than most of us.
Keep On Keeping On.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Whole Lotta Nuthin
NaBloPoMo
I signed myself up for this. So I guess you'll be seeing a lot more of me. Not that there's more of me to see. In fact there's less. Still dropping the ounces. It sucks. I wanted to be the biggest president ever.
Halloween
Go back and read these stories. Annie's Road. Danny O'Death. Dead Chicks. Sorry no new ghost stories.
Officer Jack
Saw him two weekends ago. He's still wearing dresses. He gave me a piece of history. I'll be forever grateful. Owe him an apology for not stopping by before I left town. Shit happens when you're riding with somebody else.
Grounded For Life
Went to see mom. Had to repair her VCR. Took a while but I'm a fucking genius. We sat at the kitchen table shooting the shit.
Trash: "You know granny, my life is real god damn hard."
Granny: "How's that?"
Trash: "Well I wouldn't expect YOU to understand. But when you're as pretty as I am, you get too much attention from the ladies."
Granny: "I'll bet you do."
Trash: "I do."
Granny: "There's none prettier than you son."
Trash: "I know. I mean it's tough. For instance, you know that Texaco in that little town half way between here and there?"
Granny: "Yep."
Trash: "There's a hot little red head with great jubblies that works there. I was getting a bottle of water and she couldn't keep her eyes off me. I felt like she was undressing me with her eyes, violated if you will."
Granny: "You poor thing. That must have been horrible."
Trash: "It was."
Trash Jr: "That didn't happen."
Trash: "You were in the car, what do you know?"
Trash Jr: "I know you're crazy."
Trash: "Hey T3 back me up on this."
T3: "What dad?"
Trash: "Was that red head with the great jubblies looking at me like I was a steak?"
T3: "Yeah dad. They all do. You're a big ol' steak and they're vegetarians."
Trash: "You're grounded."
Twice The Man I Thought I Was
I went to my new Dr. We'll call him Dr. B. He ordered a new testosterone test. He says the test Dr. A gave me wasn't really for testosterone. Seems the testosterone level is highest at 8am. Which explains a lot. He asked me a few questions about hard ons and how often I think about sex. My answers were no problem and all the time. Then he played with my balls. I said "Now I have a hard on problem." Dr. B says I don't have a testosterone problem except I may have too much. Which also explains a lot. Like baldness (too manly for my hair). My sex drive (can't get enough, ever). My thought patterns (sex, sex, sex, football, sex, sex, sex, work, sex sex, sex....). Also why women throw themselves at me, I must be putting some kind of pheromone out there. It can't be just because I'm pretty.
I signed myself up for this. So I guess you'll be seeing a lot more of me. Not that there's more of me to see. In fact there's less. Still dropping the ounces. It sucks. I wanted to be the biggest president ever.
Halloween
Go back and read these stories. Annie's Road. Danny O'Death. Dead Chicks. Sorry no new ghost stories.
Officer Jack
Saw him two weekends ago. He's still wearing dresses. He gave me a piece of history. I'll be forever grateful. Owe him an apology for not stopping by before I left town. Shit happens when you're riding with somebody else.
Grounded For Life
Went to see mom. Had to repair her VCR. Took a while but I'm a fucking genius. We sat at the kitchen table shooting the shit.
Trash: "You know granny, my life is real god damn hard."
Granny: "How's that?"
Trash: "Well I wouldn't expect YOU to understand. But when you're as pretty as I am, you get too much attention from the ladies."
Granny: "I'll bet you do."
Trash: "I do."
Granny: "There's none prettier than you son."
Trash: "I know. I mean it's tough. For instance, you know that Texaco in that little town half way between here and there?"
Granny: "Yep."
Trash: "There's a hot little red head with great jubblies that works there. I was getting a bottle of water and she couldn't keep her eyes off me. I felt like she was undressing me with her eyes, violated if you will."
Granny: "You poor thing. That must have been horrible."
Trash: "It was."
Trash Jr: "That didn't happen."
Trash: "You were in the car, what do you know?"
Trash Jr: "I know you're crazy."
Trash: "Hey T3 back me up on this."
T3: "What dad?"
Trash: "Was that red head with the great jubblies looking at me like I was a steak?"
T3: "Yeah dad. They all do. You're a big ol' steak and they're vegetarians."
Trash: "You're grounded."
Twice The Man I Thought I Was
I went to my new Dr. We'll call him Dr. B. He ordered a new testosterone test. He says the test Dr. A gave me wasn't really for testosterone. Seems the testosterone level is highest at 8am. Which explains a lot. He asked me a few questions about hard ons and how often I think about sex. My answers were no problem and all the time. Then he played with my balls. I said "Now I have a hard on problem." Dr. B says I don't have a testosterone problem except I may have too much. Which also explains a lot. Like baldness (too manly for my hair). My sex drive (can't get enough, ever). My thought patterns (sex, sex, sex, football, sex, sex, sex, work, sex sex, sex....). Also why women throw themselves at me, I must be putting some kind of pheromone out there. It can't be just because I'm pretty.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Response
Once again some fool has shot up his school and then turned his gun on himself. The only plus to that is he saved the tax payers a bunch of money. Nightmare wrote an interesting blog about one of the attempted killers friends reaction. This post is more of a reaction to Nightmares post than a statement on the school shooting, although I will touch on the shooting just a bit.
One thing Nightmare says is parenting IS like it used to be. Sorry dude but I call bullshit on that one. Parenting is a lot harder now days just for the simple fact that you can't beat (spank) your kids anymore. If you do some one is calling DYFS or CPS or whatever liberal children's watchdog group you have in your area. Hell they might even bypass the do gooders and call the police right away, file a complaint and have you arrested on the spot. Don't tell me this doesn't happen. I once had to step in as a witness in a grocery store because a woman called the cops and reported a couple for abuse. Their only crime was telling their child no when she asked for something. The nosey bitch figured since they told the child no and the child threw a fit, then that must be abuse.
Let's not forget the schools. Children are taught from day one that they can report their parents for abuse if mommy and daddy just look at them cross eyed.
Another problem with this particular young man is the fact even though the article didn't say it. I'm pretty sure daddy wasn't anywhere around. The cops had been to his house in the past for a domestic dispute, he evidently slapped his mother and called her a vulgar name. If I tried that shit my dad would have put me in a comma. I'd still be in it too. Plus if daddy had been around the kid probably would have learned to shoot a little straighter.
Back to preventive maintenance also known as corporal punishment. When I was a kid and I fucked up I got my ass beat by whatever neighbor caught me. Once I even got my ass whipped by the cop that caught me. Then I was taken home and got my ass beat by my mom. She told dad about my fuck up of the day when he got home and I got my ass beat again. I usually got at least two ass beatings for my transgressions. Children are much like dogs. They learn through pain association. Fuck up plus get beat equals I won't do that again. Simple math. Used to be the school could beat your ass too. I had a really rough year in 8th grade (my uncle was the principal). I'm not sure this young man would have benefited from an ass whipping, but it certainly couldn't have hurt.
I will agree that this was a piss poor case of parenting. But when daddy's gone and mommy is too small to hand out proper discipline and her hands are tied by the do gooders, then you need to blame more than just the parenting. Hilary Clinton said a long time ago that it takes a whole village to raise a child. Sometimes the village needs to turn their backs and let the kid take the ass whipping he needs.
I agree with Nightmare about people spoiling their children. My kids get nothing for free. If they want something they work. They work for me, demo (can't nobody wreck shit like my kids can), pulling nails, hanging drywall, painting trim any number of construction type things. They're better at it than most grown men. I'm proud of my boys but from time to time they have to be reminded on how to behave (I ain't admitting nothing).
Now on to the shooting. Supposedly when Asa Coon walked out of the bathroom he bumped into Michael Peek. Michael Peek punched Coon in the face and walked away. So Coon shot him. Seems like Coon isn't the only one that need a few lessons on how to treat people. I'm betting the next time somebody bumps into Mr. Peek he thinks twice before punching them in the face. I'm not saying Peek should have been shot but he needed something and in this case it just happened to be a bullet.
I could ramble on and on about this but I wouldn't want to bore you. The facts are this kid was one messed up individual and now he's not. I don't know if any of this could have been prevented but I do know it is harder to raise kids now days.
This is just my opinion. I could be wrong but I'm not.
One thing Nightmare says is parenting IS like it used to be. Sorry dude but I call bullshit on that one. Parenting is a lot harder now days just for the simple fact that you can't beat (spank) your kids anymore. If you do some one is calling DYFS or CPS or whatever liberal children's watchdog group you have in your area. Hell they might even bypass the do gooders and call the police right away, file a complaint and have you arrested on the spot. Don't tell me this doesn't happen. I once had to step in as a witness in a grocery store because a woman called the cops and reported a couple for abuse. Their only crime was telling their child no when she asked for something. The nosey bitch figured since they told the child no and the child threw a fit, then that must be abuse.
Let's not forget the schools. Children are taught from day one that they can report their parents for abuse if mommy and daddy just look at them cross eyed.
Another problem with this particular young man is the fact even though the article didn't say it. I'm pretty sure daddy wasn't anywhere around. The cops had been to his house in the past for a domestic dispute, he evidently slapped his mother and called her a vulgar name. If I tried that shit my dad would have put me in a comma. I'd still be in it too. Plus if daddy had been around the kid probably would have learned to shoot a little straighter.
Back to preventive maintenance also known as corporal punishment. When I was a kid and I fucked up I got my ass beat by whatever neighbor caught me. Once I even got my ass whipped by the cop that caught me. Then I was taken home and got my ass beat by my mom. She told dad about my fuck up of the day when he got home and I got my ass beat again. I usually got at least two ass beatings for my transgressions. Children are much like dogs. They learn through pain association. Fuck up plus get beat equals I won't do that again. Simple math. Used to be the school could beat your ass too. I had a really rough year in 8th grade (my uncle was the principal). I'm not sure this young man would have benefited from an ass whipping, but it certainly couldn't have hurt.
I will agree that this was a piss poor case of parenting. But when daddy's gone and mommy is too small to hand out proper discipline and her hands are tied by the do gooders, then you need to blame more than just the parenting. Hilary Clinton said a long time ago that it takes a whole village to raise a child. Sometimes the village needs to turn their backs and let the kid take the ass whipping he needs.
I agree with Nightmare about people spoiling their children. My kids get nothing for free. If they want something they work. They work for me, demo (can't nobody wreck shit like my kids can), pulling nails, hanging drywall, painting trim any number of construction type things. They're better at it than most grown men. I'm proud of my boys but from time to time they have to be reminded on how to behave (I ain't admitting nothing).
Now on to the shooting. Supposedly when Asa Coon walked out of the bathroom he bumped into Michael Peek. Michael Peek punched Coon in the face and walked away. So Coon shot him. Seems like Coon isn't the only one that need a few lessons on how to treat people. I'm betting the next time somebody bumps into Mr. Peek he thinks twice before punching them in the face. I'm not saying Peek should have been shot but he needed something and in this case it just happened to be a bullet.
I could ramble on and on about this but I wouldn't want to bore you. The facts are this kid was one messed up individual and now he's not. I don't know if any of this could have been prevented but I do know it is harder to raise kids now days.
This is just my opinion. I could be wrong but I'm not.
Thursday, October 04, 2007
Half The Man I Used To Be
My blogging has been lacking for quite some time now, in case you haven't noticed. I have no excuse. Except for one really long one. I'll give you the short version.
For the past year or so I've been really sick. When I say sick, I mean dying a slow painful death. I can only work 4 0r 5 hours a day. I'm always sore to the bone and I'm as tired as ... something that's really tired. Don't get me wrong, I ain't whining or bitching or moaning or complaining, except to Jen. I wound up in the emergency room twice because of this. They only found a fucked up blood count. My symptoms ranged anywhere from leukemia to lupus to THE BEAST (aids).
Jen managed to snag a job 6 months ago with benefits. So off to the doctor I went. She sent me to a blood doctor ( I ain't looking up the correct term). He did a BUNCH of test including a bone marrow biopsy and some kind of spleen thing. Turns out I'm lupus free, leukemia free, and I ain't got THE BEAST. However I have and enlarged spleen. Nobody knows why. So he sends me to another doctor. New doctor runs a BUNCH of test. My vitamin D is real low (explains my craving for milk) and now the kicker. My testosterone is so low it would have to be tripled to be a low reading.
The nurse conveyed this information to me and I almost fell out of my chair laughing. It went something like this.
Nurse: " Mr. Trash you have low testosterone."
Trash: "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA."
Nurse: "I don't see what's so funny, this is a serious matter."
Trash: "Lady you must be reading that upside down or backwards."
Nurse: "No. I don't think so. I DO know how to read these reports."
Trash: "I'm way to much man to have low testosterone."
Nurse: "I don't follow."
Trash: "If I were any manlier I would need six wives."
Nurse: "Huh?"
Trash: "I chase my wive around like a horny rabbit."
Nurse: "But do you catch her or is it all in your mind?"
Trash: "If I don't catch her then I beat my monkey bloody."
Nurse: "How often does this occur?"
Trash: "Daily."
Nurse: "We're going to have to refer you to a testosterone specialist."
Once again I'm being passed of to another doctor. It seems that when you have insurance you get passed around like a Saturday night fun time girl. My appointment is the 22nd of this month. I'm not sure if they're going to give me any testosterone or not but if they do I'm defiantly going to be doing some experimenting. The good news is due to the sickness that can not be named I'm losing weight. The bad news is due to my depleated man juice the weight I'm losing is muscle mass and not the fat that orbits me. So I used to be strong like bull and dumb like ox. Now I'm just dumb like ox.
Any way that's it in a nut shell. I'll try to post more often. I'm not looking for sympathy. I know where to find it. In the dictionary between shit and syphillis. I just wanted to explain to y'all and I'm not a secrets kind of guy. To those of y'all that have emailed and I haven't answered. Sorry but it was my nap time.
For the past year or so I've been really sick. When I say sick, I mean dying a slow painful death. I can only work 4 0r 5 hours a day. I'm always sore to the bone and I'm as tired as ... something that's really tired. Don't get me wrong, I ain't whining or bitching or moaning or complaining, except to Jen. I wound up in the emergency room twice because of this. They only found a fucked up blood count. My symptoms ranged anywhere from leukemia to lupus to THE BEAST (aids).
Jen managed to snag a job 6 months ago with benefits. So off to the doctor I went. She sent me to a blood doctor ( I ain't looking up the correct term). He did a BUNCH of test including a bone marrow biopsy and some kind of spleen thing. Turns out I'm lupus free, leukemia free, and I ain't got THE BEAST. However I have and enlarged spleen. Nobody knows why. So he sends me to another doctor. New doctor runs a BUNCH of test. My vitamin D is real low (explains my craving for milk) and now the kicker. My testosterone is so low it would have to be tripled to be a low reading.
The nurse conveyed this information to me and I almost fell out of my chair laughing. It went something like this.
Nurse: " Mr. Trash you have low testosterone."
Trash: "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA."
Nurse: "I don't see what's so funny, this is a serious matter."
Trash: "Lady you must be reading that upside down or backwards."
Nurse: "No. I don't think so. I DO know how to read these reports."
Trash: "I'm way to much man to have low testosterone."
Nurse: "I don't follow."
Trash: "If I were any manlier I would need six wives."
Nurse: "Huh?"
Trash: "I chase my wive around like a horny rabbit."
Nurse: "But do you catch her or is it all in your mind?"
Trash: "If I don't catch her then I beat my monkey bloody."
Nurse: "How often does this occur?"
Trash: "Daily."
Nurse: "We're going to have to refer you to a testosterone specialist."
Once again I'm being passed of to another doctor. It seems that when you have insurance you get passed around like a Saturday night fun time girl. My appointment is the 22nd of this month. I'm not sure if they're going to give me any testosterone or not but if they do I'm defiantly going to be doing some experimenting. The good news is due to the sickness that can not be named I'm losing weight. The bad news is due to my depleated man juice the weight I'm losing is muscle mass and not the fat that orbits me. So I used to be strong like bull and dumb like ox. Now I'm just dumb like ox.
Any way that's it in a nut shell. I'll try to post more often. I'm not looking for sympathy. I know where to find it. In the dictionary between shit and syphillis. I just wanted to explain to y'all and I'm not a secrets kind of guy. To those of y'all that have emailed and I haven't answered. Sorry but it was my nap time.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
N.A.A.C.P. or N.A.A.Dog.Killers.
I know I said I would tell the rest of a story, but I've been kind of slow at blogging lately (a situation I hope to remedy soon). I have to delay what I was going to write so I could strike this iron while the fire was hot. The following is just my opinion, not much of this blog will be based on fact. Some of it will be, but most of it will be my ranting.
Not much catches my eye when it comes to news, I try to avoid depressing things, but something came out in the news recently that I've been paying a little attention to. Micheal Vick. This man is an idiot (my opinion). I don't need his lawyers and the NAACP crawling up my ass. But only an idiot would turn a NFL career into a stinking pile of shit (which is what he has done).
Picture this. Micheal Vick gets a very lucrative NFL contract worth millions. So much money if handled correctly it would ensure that his children and their children would never have to work a day of their lives (now we all know it wouldn't have been handled correctly, but that's besides the point). This man decides he has to show his "boyz from the hood" what a big shot he has become and that he's still as "gangsta" as they are. What is more "gangsta" than fighting pit bulls for money? I guess he could have smuggled drugs or ran a string of girls, but evidently dogs were his drug of choice. Anyway, here's a multi-millionaire that wants to fight dogs for a few grand just so he can look like a tough guy. He surrounds himself with a loyal posse (we all now where that got him), picks a tough sounding name for a kennel (Bad Newz Kennels) and proceeds to kill dogs. What a fucking waste of a human being.
Now I don't know about y'all, but this is what I picture.
It's fight night at Bad Newz Kennels and Mikey is getting dressed for the occasion. The first thing he does is pull out the grill drawer in his massive walk in closet, he then decides on the platinum full grill and pops it in his mouth. Next comes the full length fur with matching top hat, he forgoes the shirt because it's more "gangsta" to go shirtless. Next is the zip up boots with the 6" platform soles and a cane with a silver pit bull head with ruby eyes mounted on top of the cane. Can't forget the rings on every finger and the 1 carat diamond earring in each ear, throw in a few necklaces with huge pendants, a fist full of hundreds for show and its party time.
I'm sure every time he entered the arena he screamed "Let's get ready to rumble" (Mr. Buffer, please don't sue me).
Now he's been busted. His loyal posse all turned on him. The NFL doesn't want him anymore (they usually have a morality clause in the contract just for this type of situation). He's looking at prison time because he's taking the plea deal. Then here comes the the NAAfuckingCP.
The NAACP is standing behind Michael Vick. They would have you believe he is a fine upstanding citizen being falsely accused by "the man". They would have you believe that he is only accepting the plea deal to cut his losses. R.L. White, president of the NAACP's Atlanta chapter said. "We further ask the NFL, Falcons, and the sponsors not to permanently ban Mr. Vick from his ability to bring hours of enjoyment to fans all over this country." I'm sorry but he never even brought me a second of enjoyment as a member of the NFL. But I will enjoy knowing he is in prison having to defend his asshole everyday. He will be a trophy in prison and there's going to be a lot of guys wanting that trophy.
Now my question is why is the NAACP backing Vick but not his associates, Purnell Peace, Quanis Phillips and Tony Taylor? I can answer that question, because Vick is a millionaire and if they help him avoid prison or save his NFL career they could probably count on him for some hefty donations, where as the other three are just some broke ass nigg...... uh people.
Question number two. Why would Vick accept a plea deal if he was innocent. I'm sorry but if I'm not guilty of something I'm not accepting any kind of deal. I would stand up in the court room and scream my innocence until they dragged me out. The possibility of someone being found guilty of something they didn't do is very unlikely. I know it happens from time to time, but not to millionaire NFL stars, ask O.J. He did it and still didn't go to prison. Y'all know what Johnnie Cochran would have said, "If the choke collar don't fit you must acquit."
This is not Michael's first brush with the law. Vick reached a settlement last year with a woman who charged in a lawsuit that he had knowingly given her herpes. Last season, Vick was fined $10,000 by the NFL and agreed to donate another $10,000 to charity for making an obscene gesture toward fans while leaving the field after a game at the Georgia Dome in November. In January, authorities said that a water bottle surrendered by Vick at a security checkpoint at Miami International Airport had a marijuana-like substance in a secret compartment. Later they announced that laboratory tests showed no evidence of drugs and that no charges would be filed (I wonder who got paid). Vick said the compartment was used to store jewelry.
So what we have here is an out of control individual with too much money being backed by a special interest group that no longer follows its original doctrine (much like every other special interest group out there). Well this is what I say, fuck Michael Vick and fuck the NAACP. Fuck'em both.
This is just my opinion and you're entitled to it.
Not much catches my eye when it comes to news, I try to avoid depressing things, but something came out in the news recently that I've been paying a little attention to. Micheal Vick. This man is an idiot (my opinion). I don't need his lawyers and the NAACP crawling up my ass. But only an idiot would turn a NFL career into a stinking pile of shit (which is what he has done).
Picture this. Micheal Vick gets a very lucrative NFL contract worth millions. So much money if handled correctly it would ensure that his children and their children would never have to work a day of their lives (now we all know it wouldn't have been handled correctly, but that's besides the point). This man decides he has to show his "boyz from the hood" what a big shot he has become and that he's still as "gangsta" as they are. What is more "gangsta" than fighting pit bulls for money? I guess he could have smuggled drugs or ran a string of girls, but evidently dogs were his drug of choice. Anyway, here's a multi-millionaire that wants to fight dogs for a few grand just so he can look like a tough guy. He surrounds himself with a loyal posse (we all now where that got him), picks a tough sounding name for a kennel (Bad Newz Kennels) and proceeds to kill dogs. What a fucking waste of a human being.
Now I don't know about y'all, but this is what I picture.
It's fight night at Bad Newz Kennels and Mikey is getting dressed for the occasion. The first thing he does is pull out the grill drawer in his massive walk in closet, he then decides on the platinum full grill and pops it in his mouth. Next comes the full length fur with matching top hat, he forgoes the shirt because it's more "gangsta" to go shirtless. Next is the zip up boots with the 6" platform soles and a cane with a silver pit bull head with ruby eyes mounted on top of the cane. Can't forget the rings on every finger and the 1 carat diamond earring in each ear, throw in a few necklaces with huge pendants, a fist full of hundreds for show and its party time.
I'm sure every time he entered the arena he screamed "Let's get ready to rumble" (Mr. Buffer, please don't sue me).
Now he's been busted. His loyal posse all turned on him. The NFL doesn't want him anymore (they usually have a morality clause in the contract just for this type of situation). He's looking at prison time because he's taking the plea deal. Then here comes the the NAAfuckingCP.
The NAACP is standing behind Michael Vick. They would have you believe he is a fine upstanding citizen being falsely accused by "the man". They would have you believe that he is only accepting the plea deal to cut his losses. R.L. White, president of the NAACP's Atlanta chapter said. "We further ask the NFL, Falcons, and the sponsors not to permanently ban Mr. Vick from his ability to bring hours of enjoyment to fans all over this country." I'm sorry but he never even brought me a second of enjoyment as a member of the NFL. But I will enjoy knowing he is in prison having to defend his asshole everyday. He will be a trophy in prison and there's going to be a lot of guys wanting that trophy.
Now my question is why is the NAACP backing Vick but not his associates, Purnell Peace, Quanis Phillips and Tony Taylor? I can answer that question, because Vick is a millionaire and if they help him avoid prison or save his NFL career they could probably count on him for some hefty donations, where as the other three are just some broke ass nigg...... uh people.
Question number two. Why would Vick accept a plea deal if he was innocent. I'm sorry but if I'm not guilty of something I'm not accepting any kind of deal. I would stand up in the court room and scream my innocence until they dragged me out. The possibility of someone being found guilty of something they didn't do is very unlikely. I know it happens from time to time, but not to millionaire NFL stars, ask O.J. He did it and still didn't go to prison. Y'all know what Johnnie Cochran would have said, "If the choke collar don't fit you must acquit."
This is not Michael's first brush with the law. Vick reached a settlement last year with a woman who charged in a lawsuit that he had knowingly given her herpes. Last season, Vick was fined $10,000 by the NFL and agreed to donate another $10,000 to charity for making an obscene gesture toward fans while leaving the field after a game at the Georgia Dome in November. In January, authorities said that a water bottle surrendered by Vick at a security checkpoint at Miami International Airport had a marijuana-like substance in a secret compartment. Later they announced that laboratory tests showed no evidence of drugs and that no charges would be filed (I wonder who got paid). Vick said the compartment was used to store jewelry.
So what we have here is an out of control individual with too much money being backed by a special interest group that no longer follows its original doctrine (much like every other special interest group out there). Well this is what I say, fuck Michael Vick and fuck the NAACP. Fuck'em both.
This is just my opinion and you're entitled to it.
Friday, June 15, 2007
Only One Who's Been 'Round The Block Can Give You The RIde You Need
I was listening to some early 80's rock today. REO Speedwagon to be specific and it got me to reminiscing. So I have a little tale to tell. I told Jen this story earlier, she says I'm a dirty bitch.
The year was 1979 and I had my collar bone broken in a fight so I was yanked out of Physical Education and stuck in Home Economics. When they told my I was going to Home Ec. I thought it was the end of the world. That was a chicks class and I would be labeled a fag. I've never been so wrong in my life. It was heaven. The class was full of girls and the teacher was a hot piece herself. I was lucky enough to miss the child birthing part of the course but thanks to Miss.? (I don't remember her name) I know how to cook and sew and I have a special appreciation for what used to be older women. Now they're just women my age. This story has two parts.
Part 1:
Miss.? required her students to do projects outside off school. If I remember correctly it was a important part of the six weeks grade. We had to do something we wouldn't normally do or had ever done before. I decided to refinish a piece of furniture. My mom had an old magazine table that we used for a T.V. stand, it had seen better days, so it became my victim. My mom took me to the local hardware store and purchased all the necessary chemicals. For the next three weeks I lovingly stripped the old varnish, sanded, stained, and clear coated the T.V. stand. It was beautiful. When it was all said and done I had to write a report about the process. I turned in the report and Miss.? informed me that she needed to see the piece of furniture to insure that I did the work, she said she would come by my house after school.
I was sitting at home waiting for Miss.? to show up, I just wanted to get the grading over with. She knocked on the door and I let her in.
Miss.?: "Is your mom home?"
Trash: "No. She's at work."
Miss.?: "O.K. Where's the T.V. stand?"
Trash: "Right here."
She looked over the stand inspecting the whole thing. Checking all the nooks and crannies. She finally turned around walked over to me took my right hand in hers and said "You're very good with your hands." Then she placed my hand on her left tit. I know. I know. This story sounds like it should start with "Dear Penthouse, You're not going to believe this, but....."
I was in shock I didn't know what the fuck was going on, all I knew was I was 14 and I had a 30 something year old woman's left tit in my hand.
Miss.? " Trash? Are you O.K.?"
Trash: "Uh Huh."
Miss.?" Have you ever touched a woman before?"
Trash: "Uh Huh."
Miss.? "Then you know what to do?"
Trash: "Uh Huh."
Miss.? " Where's your bed?"
Trash: "Uh Huh."
Miss.? "Take me there."
I led her to my my bedroom, and she led me to places that only one girl (my first) had ever taken me before. The other girls I had been with were amateurs. This woman knew how to work a guy over. It's a good thing I was 14 and could bounce back quickley. She did things the girls my age never dreamed of doing. It was like a horizontal slow dance. The girls my age didn't dance, they just laid there. When it was over I was laying there watching her put her clothes back on. She was wearing a brown suede leather skirt a white blouse. As she was doing up the buttons, she looked over at me. I remember feeling embarrassed, I don't why but I did. She walked over to me, leaned down and kissed me on the cheek.
Miss.?: "Trash?"
Trash: "Yes Ma'am."
Miss.?: "You can't tell anybody about this. It never happened, and it will never happen again. Do you understand?"
Trash: "Yes Ma'am."
Miss.?: "Promise."
Trash: "I promise."
Miss.?: "You got an A on the T.V. stand."
Trash: "Oh. O.K."
Miss.?: "You're cute."
With that she turned and walked out of my life, until I saw her at school the next day. Looking at her as a teacher again was one of the hardest things I ever did. I wished and hoped and prayed for the experience again. It never happened. She treated me like any other student. She even sent me to the principal on more than one occasion. I never broke that promise until today.
I was sitting on the back patio telling Jen this story. I still remember exactly what she was wearing. I remember her green eyes and her long brown hair that curled up at the ends. I remember every curve of her body. I remember every thing we did that day. I remember that her fingernails and toenails were painted the same color. I remember the feel of her soft skin against mine. I remember the smell of her perfume (I don't know what it was but I know it when I smell it). I remember she was wearing little ruby earrings. But for the life of me I can't remember that bitches name.
Part B: Next Time.
The year was 1979 and I had my collar bone broken in a fight so I was yanked out of Physical Education and stuck in Home Economics. When they told my I was going to Home Ec. I thought it was the end of the world. That was a chicks class and I would be labeled a fag. I've never been so wrong in my life. It was heaven. The class was full of girls and the teacher was a hot piece herself. I was lucky enough to miss the child birthing part of the course but thanks to Miss.? (I don't remember her name) I know how to cook and sew and I have a special appreciation for what used to be older women. Now they're just women my age. This story has two parts.
Part 1:
Miss.? required her students to do projects outside off school. If I remember correctly it was a important part of the six weeks grade. We had to do something we wouldn't normally do or had ever done before. I decided to refinish a piece of furniture. My mom had an old magazine table that we used for a T.V. stand, it had seen better days, so it became my victim. My mom took me to the local hardware store and purchased all the necessary chemicals. For the next three weeks I lovingly stripped the old varnish, sanded, stained, and clear coated the T.V. stand. It was beautiful. When it was all said and done I had to write a report about the process. I turned in the report and Miss.? informed me that she needed to see the piece of furniture to insure that I did the work, she said she would come by my house after school.
I was sitting at home waiting for Miss.? to show up, I just wanted to get the grading over with. She knocked on the door and I let her in.
Miss.?: "Is your mom home?"
Trash: "No. She's at work."
Miss.?: "O.K. Where's the T.V. stand?"
Trash: "Right here."
She looked over the stand inspecting the whole thing. Checking all the nooks and crannies. She finally turned around walked over to me took my right hand in hers and said "You're very good with your hands." Then she placed my hand on her left tit. I know. I know. This story sounds like it should start with "Dear Penthouse, You're not going to believe this, but....."
I was in shock I didn't know what the fuck was going on, all I knew was I was 14 and I had a 30 something year old woman's left tit in my hand.
Miss.? " Trash? Are you O.K.?"
Trash: "Uh Huh."
Miss.?" Have you ever touched a woman before?"
Trash: "Uh Huh."
Miss.? "Then you know what to do?"
Trash: "Uh Huh."
Miss.? " Where's your bed?"
Trash: "Uh Huh."
Miss.? "Take me there."
I led her to my my bedroom, and she led me to places that only one girl (my first) had ever taken me before. The other girls I had been with were amateurs. This woman knew how to work a guy over. It's a good thing I was 14 and could bounce back quickley. She did things the girls my age never dreamed of doing. It was like a horizontal slow dance. The girls my age didn't dance, they just laid there. When it was over I was laying there watching her put her clothes back on. She was wearing a brown suede leather skirt a white blouse. As she was doing up the buttons, she looked over at me. I remember feeling embarrassed, I don't why but I did. She walked over to me, leaned down and kissed me on the cheek.
Miss.?: "Trash?"
Trash: "Yes Ma'am."
Miss.?: "You can't tell anybody about this. It never happened, and it will never happen again. Do you understand?"
Trash: "Yes Ma'am."
Miss.?: "Promise."
Trash: "I promise."
Miss.?: "You got an A on the T.V. stand."
Trash: "Oh. O.K."
Miss.?: "You're cute."
With that she turned and walked out of my life, until I saw her at school the next day. Looking at her as a teacher again was one of the hardest things I ever did. I wished and hoped and prayed for the experience again. It never happened. She treated me like any other student. She even sent me to the principal on more than one occasion. I never broke that promise until today.
I was sitting on the back patio telling Jen this story. I still remember exactly what she was wearing. I remember her green eyes and her long brown hair that curled up at the ends. I remember every curve of her body. I remember every thing we did that day. I remember that her fingernails and toenails were painted the same color. I remember the feel of her soft skin against mine. I remember the smell of her perfume (I don't know what it was but I know it when I smell it). I remember she was wearing little ruby earrings. But for the life of me I can't remember that bitches name.
Part B: Next Time.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)