Jackson G. Tickle Enterprises Presents…Panama’s Propositions

You know…the bullshit never ceases.

By now, EVERYBODY has heard/scene/argued about the fight between Ron Artest, Stephen Jackson, Jermaine O’Neal and all of Detroit AKA the Indiana Pacers versus Detroit Pistons. First and foremost, my life changed after that. I’ve never seen comedy like that in my life. I had the fortunate advantage of actually watching the game as it happened (I’m a Piston’s fan) so seeing it unfold without really knowing what was going to happen made it even better.

I mean, you have Stephen “Smackahoe” Jackson LAYING FOLKS OUT, Jermaine “Hit a White Man When He’s Down” O’Neal coming FROM OFF SCREEN OUT OF NOWHWERE to lay out a short fat white dude who isn’t even standing up yet…and yes…oh yes…

…Ron “Queensbridge’s Finest” Artest. This dude right here might be the absolute most crazy individual on the planet. I mean, Ben Wallace damn near choked/pushed him ten feet, and he calmly walks away and LAYS DOWN.

Please read that again.

This is the same dude who’s middle name should be Flagrant Foul. I was discussing this with a friend of mine and we decided that Ben Wallace told Ron Artest that if he fouled him again he was gonna hit him. Ron Artest fouled him again (not even that hard) and Ben Wallace hit him. Ron Artest could understand and respect that, ya know, since he told him ahead of time, so he just went laid down and was gonna wait until everybody calmed down so the game could resume. Kind of a controlled lunacy. Nutcase logic if you will. But having something thrown at him…THAT throws him over the edge. And you know what???

I wholefuckin’hardedly agree. Some lunatic ass fan decided to get gully and assume that air and opportunity wasn’t present and threw something. Well, we have a term for that in the black community, disrespect bitch…disrespect.

Quick Study Session For People Who Plan On Starting Fights with Players from the Stands:

1. First and foremost, for all you igmos who have never been in a fight. If you decide to throw something at somebody, especially a basketball player with a known history of beating down BLACK PEOPLE and you are white, don’t be surprised when the 6′8″ muhfucka you threw something at comes at you (even if you are the wrong guy, cuz get this, he’s coming at somebody). It’s called provocation. Provoke me and I’ll smack back…pour lotion on meeeeeeee…

Sorry, had a slight Digital Underground flashback.

Just make sure you POINT OUT THE MUHFUCKA WHO THREW THE DRINK BEFORE HE GETS TO YOU AND YOUR EYES GET ALL BIG AS YOU REALIZE YOU PICKED THE WRONG DAY TO ASSUME YOU COULD SAY WHAT YOU WANTED TO SAY.

2. If you are a fan, and you come onto the court, if you get hit…IT’S YOUR FAULT. There is absolutely no got damn reason for any fan to be on the court ESPECIALLY after a brawl breaks out in the stands. It looks like you are coming down there for a reason. It’s called provocation. You just might get combo’d by a 6′8″ black dude who is already pissed because he got mobbed in the stands. THEN you might catch a straight up mollywop by one of his teammates who has a running start, a foot and a half of height on you, and probably a good 50 pounds on you…plus a helluva of a winding punch.

3. Realize, a lot of these dudes are black folks who’ve come out of rough neighborhoods. Realize, that all of these dudes don’t just fight because something happened…some do it becuase they are gangsta like that. Like say, I don’t know, Stephen Jackson, who seemed a little TOO excited to be fighting for his boy. I mean did you see how hard he was hitting folks??? He was really into it. So realize, some people need hugs in life, and don’t receive them. When able to lash out, Stephen Jackson, will whip your ASS. And it matters not that he had anything to do with it…he’s Stephen Jackson, he’s from Port Arthur, Texas…and he will whip your ass. Just remember this. Umm…though this doesn’t really fit…but I need it to make my point…it’s called provocation.

4. Never call a bunch of black people niggas and expect to NOT GET HIT. K? It’s called provocation.

End Lesson.

I’d like to focus on the provocation part right quick, if I may. May I? Thank you. I’d like to go ahead and add the NBA to the list of organizations that I won’t be able to work for in the future, to include BET, the Charlotte Bobcats, Starbucks, Magic Johnson’s company, Alan Keyes political campaign, anything Nelly’s running, etc…because I’d like to say…

(*clearing throat*)

FUCK THE NBA AND DAVID STERN.

The rest of the season??? Ron Artest gets suspended for the rest of the season? Are you fucking kidding me? For going after a fan who provoked him first? He was laying down on the scorer’s table and gets something THROWN AT HIM. And he gets the whole season? That is some pure and utter bullshit right there, friend. I’m not in the business of pulling a Nino Brown here (taking folks down with me), but Stephen Jackson only gets 30 games? He was straight cold-cocking folks in the stands…JUST BECAUSE. At least Artest was provoked. I’ve heard of unfair before…but this takes the cake. Because I’m really feeling this right now…FUCK THE NBA.

I’m all for not attacking fans without reason. WITHOUT REASON. You can’t just go fighting fans for heckling you, or trying to distract you. It’s what fans are for. But when fans take things to the next level, where does the line get drawn on whats acceptable?

Ron Artest plays for the Indiana Pacers, and they are in Detroit. EVERYBODY is against him. Now, one might argue that it was crazy for Artest to be willing to go into the stands knowing this fact. But we’ve already learned he opereates under nutcase logic. So I expect no less. ESPECIALLY when he is provoked. And the man loses a season because of this? Every action that Artest took was in defense. Well, okay, running into the stands towards the dude isn’t really defense…

…but, he had something thrown at him. What is he supposed to do? Turn the other cheek? Act like it didn’t happen and be all sad because the people don’t like him? Fuck that…he’s Ron Artest, he’s a rapper, AND A ballplayer. He’s from Queensbridge…and first and foremost…

…he’s a man.

A grown ass man worthy of respect regardless of the venue. And when somebody challenges that respect unnecessarily, he reacted how ANYBODY would have reacted. He proceeded to seek and destroy. Don’t tell me that’s irrational behavior because it isn’t. PROV-O-CATION.

And the worst shit is, David Stern took his history into account. Unless that history involved something being thrown at him before by a bitchmade fan and him running into the stands then it should be treated as an isolated incident. I can understand giving him 30 games. I’m sure he could live with that as well. But got damn…a whole season…because somebody assaulted him??? And he responded? Something doesn’t smell right…

…bitches.

I tell you…somethings never cease to amaze me. Ron Artest knew he was going to get in some form of trouble for this. Well, being provoked and having the inability to fend for oneself cost him $5.5 million dollars of salary and 73 games.

So since I’m feeling so nice and friendly today…I’d like to send an extra special fuck you out to David Stern for not treating Ron Artest like a man, but like some commodity who is just there to perform a task despite anything that may come his way. Turn the other cheek…that’s exactly what Artest did…he turned a few cheeks on Friday night, of folks who deserved it.

Just know that in some areas of life, no matter what happens to you, it is your responsibility to act as if it didn’t happen and pretend that you are above it all. Regardless of what physical harm somebody tries to inflict upon you.

Ron Artest is an NBA player…not a man. Provocation means nothing.

The bullshit never ceases.

[***Matter of Factedness: I REFUSE to speak about the Vibe Awards from last night. To speak of it would acknowledge its existence, which is wrong and punishable by repeated viewings of Ashanti's performance or Tyra's hair. As far as im concerned, it never happened. NEVER HAPPENED! DO YOU HEAR ME???? Just in case it did though, I'm following his lead, and becoming Hispanic...I've been confused for Dominican before anyway. From here on out, I'm not only Panama, I'm full fledge Panamanian.***]

Woman.

She is woman, hear her roar. She is phenomonal. She can drop it like its hot. She can cook it, and make it hot. She can cause society to fall. She can re-start it after she destroys it. She has all the power, even if she doesn’t realize it. She is…

…woman.

Women are amazing creatures. Of all the living beings on this planet, woman is the most powerful and conflicted forces to be reckoned with. And nowhere is this more apparent than woman’s affect on man. Oh yes, her effect is omnipresent (always there, graduate). Sometimes good, sometimes bad…but it’s always there. This is the power of woman over man. And nowhere…one more time, NOWHERE, is this fact more evident than in the case of one…

…Erykah Badu.

Got damn. This woman singlehandedly created Andre 3000 and destroyed Common Sense. What’s really funny is, I’ve heard many a people discuss her effect, but nobody has done extensive research into her mystic powers. Until now. Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you…

What Happened to That Boy: The Erykah Badu Factor on Mankind

Erykah Badu is woman. In one package, she managed to be southern, ghetto, deep, cute, gorgeous, fun, arrogant, humble, interesting, a singer, gangster, and loving. (How do I know all that? I don’t. That’s the beauty of opinion.) So it’s easy to see how any man would fall into her web. Hell, I myself have had a crush on her for something like 6 years now. It’s nothing like my crush on Christina Milian, but a crush nonetheless. She is every woman. That chick who seems like she’d ride for you when you needed her too, and simultaneously put on a good show for your mother.

She’s that chick that will open your mind, and have you looking at things you never even paid attention too. She can take you from being an inner city pimp prospect to a turbin wearing bass player. Or she can take you from being a Southside Chicago hustler to wearing a sleeveless turtleneck. She is that powerful.

She is woman.

And what is this power that Erykah Badu has?? How do we know it exists? We have two case studies: Andre 3000 and Common. They live so we may learn of her power. The power to bring out the best in somebody, and confuse the living shit out of another. The ability to point somebody in the right direction, and watch as somebody else drives himself off a cliff in a Hummer with cement wheels loaded down with 500 pound weights. She has the ability to expand the minds of men, resulting in one person taking what he has learned and becoming comfortable in his own skin and taking the world by storm, and another person really having no idea what to do because he himself is confused and wondering what to do with his newfound knowledge so he starts wearing sleeveless turtlenecks,and for some reason nobody will embrace him, except for his grandmother.

Her power is the sleeveless turtleneck. It confuses some and makes so much sense to others. It’s like Nirvana lyrics.

[***Sidenote: In theory, there is nothing wrong with a sleeveless turtleneck...if you are a woman or from Europe. However, as a grown ass black man from the Southside of Chicago, it is wrong, in the truest sense of the word wrong. And for those like, when did he wear a sleeveless turtleneck, it was in the video for the "Ghetto Heaven" remix featuring Macy Gray, where he is dancing on stars and planets. For the record, gangsters don't dance they boogie. He was dancing.***]

She is woman.

And what has her power, her Baduizm, done to Andre 3000 and Common?

Andre 3000. Glory Day. Dre is player. Dre is pimp. Southernplayalisticcadillacmusick. Dre raps about pimping and not claiming kids. Dre meets Erykah. ATLiens. Dre becomes alien and wears turbins and army gear. Dre reads more then gets off on the 13th floor. Then he realizes that there wasn’t one, they said it skips from twelve to fourteen. Stops smoking. Stops drinking. Becomes vegan. Aquemini. Classic. Spoottieootiedopalicious. Big Boi steps up. Leg warmers. Football pads. Blonde wig. Stankonia. Bombs Over Baghdad. Jimi Hendrix. Tight clothes. Ascots. Tighter, more insightful lryics. Sorry Ms. Jackson. Long break. The Love Below. Amazing. Prototype. Roses. Hey Ya! Ascot to match your socks what’s in your Speakerboxx…pink and blue. Grammy. Album of the Year. Successful. Comfortable in his skin.

She is woman. Dre, Erykah would like to introduce you to Andre 3000. ATLien…you are home.

Theeeeeeeen, there’s this other cat.

Common. Holy shit. This nigga right here. Chicago hustler. Can I borrow a dollar? No. Fuck you. Tell it like it is. Truth teller. Ghetto commentary. Niggas aint listening. Resurrection. Classic. I Used to Lover H.E.R. Insightful. Thinking man’s hustler. Don’t get it? One Day It’ll All Make Sense. Growth. Confusing. Hardcore. Caring. Sell records. Lauryn Hill. Still can’t sell records. Pissed. Meets Erykah. Reads more. Develops Sixth Sense. Like Water For Chocolate. Huh? Style chanages. Scarves. Kufis with flowers on them. The Light. Sleeveless turtlenecks. Macy Gray??? Confused album. Nowhere to turn. Turns to Erykah. Goes pussy. Jimi Hendrix. And more confused. Electric Circus. Wants to be Dre. Dre is no longer. Dre is Andre 3000. Can’t be Dre. Electric Circus. Hot Mess. Electric Circus. Bad idea. Fan base lost.

She is woman. Common Sense, Erykah would like to introduce you to a Confused Man named Common.

Nigga, what’s wrong with you?

He went from wearing Rockports and Windsuits and baseball caps to derbies and kufis and SLEEVELESS turtlenecks. Dammit…WHO THE FUCK WEARS A SLEEVELESS TURTLENECK? That has to be the most confusing shit to ever see, right? Is it hot or cold? Now that you got your neck covered, how are you arms, huh, dunny??? Why wasn’t his stylist shot because of this? Pac got shot, Biggie got shot…but no, his stylist lives. Somethings just aren’t fair are they? And I’m giving him credit by saying he had a stylist. If he doesn’t…well, may God have mercy on his soul.

All because of Erykah “My Eyes Are Green” Badu.

Erykah Badu turned Andre 300o into the sex symbol, best dressed, album of the year creator that he is now. Andre 3000 is now so cool, he can walk onto a stage to accept an award, throw up a piece sign and walk off and it be the best acceptance speech ever given. Common? No awards. In fact he is more bitter now than ever before. He is the bitter man’s rapper. Complaining that he never got his respect or his due. A talented rapper that never caught on, and even fell off somewhat. Fuck that, fell of a lot-what. Erykah Badu’s presence and power to just “be” changed both of these men’s lives forever.

Her power is not just reserved for her either. Her power is every woman’s power. Erykah Badu could be any woman. The power to change the course of history, the power to cause a man to become more than he imagined, or become a shell of himself without ever doing more than being herself. All women have this ability. Some just do not know it. Erykah Badu knows. Erykah Badu is power.

She made a grown ass black man wear a sleeveless turtleneck.

She is woman.

[***This Public Service Announcement is especially relevant for those people living in the Mid-Atlantic States through the Northeast***]

Have you ever thought about Hell?

I mean really thought about what Hell might be like? I know the whole fire and brimstone spiel, but seriously…what is Hell?

Lots of people have different theories on Hell. Some say its your worst nightmare happening to you over and over again for eternity. Like for instance, say you are a white racist and black people and their potential to be everywhere really scares you, Hell would be having a taxi drop you off in Harlem on the corner of 145th and Amsterdam, every hour, forever. Or say you are a black person who hates white people and is afraid of what can be at the hands of the white man. Hell would be having to wake up everyday forever only to realize that white people run the world, and there is nothing you can do about it or say about it, for fear of being put in jail, having to deal with living in substandard conditions with poor education.

Umm. Well?ƒ?I mean?ƒ?I?ƒ¥m just sayin.

Anywho?ƒ?

Some say Hell is the place where you go to burn eternally for your sins and for your inability to ask for forgiveness. Shit is just hot. Like the club…except at this club you can’t leave and all the women have gonorrhea and/or herpes, and all men are short with Napolean complexes and wear fake Versace shirts, and the DJ only plays shit like Coolio and Skeelo, and hell (no pun inteded) every other song by a dude with a name that ends in “o”…and Will Smith records, and all drinks are Rum 151 and Rum 151 only. Basically…its hell.

Well today, I’m here to present a different spin on Hell. You see, I’ve been there. In fact, I’ve been there many times, sometimes due to my own fault or because I had no way to get away from there. It’s not like I wanted to go to Hell…but I was stuck. There was no other way for me to go. And no…its not like I did anything to warrant going to Hell…but sometimes, you just end up there…whether you want to be there or not. I know its fucked up…but I’m not the only person who’s been to hell either. In fact…most people that live in the Washington, DC, area have been to Hell.

Wait? What?? Washington, DC? Is close to hell? Da hell (once again no pun intended) are you talking about? Another barrage of questions? Again??? Will he ever stop? Can he stop, will he stop??? Isn’t this annoying???

Why yes, it is acutally.

So what is hell you ask…well shit, I’ll tell you. Hell, ladies and gentlemen, is the I-95 corridor between Washington, DC and Richmond, Virginia. This is the only got damn place in the United States that is GUARANTEED to have at least one direction (North/South) completely entrenched in piss you the fuck off traffic on any given day of the year. And I know some people who may live in California or New York are like…dude, we got traffic here, what’s the big deal? Well, let me introduce you to Hell.

[***Sidenote: I will be offering various geography lessons during the course of discussing Hell. I will also do a lot of discussing of the Washington, DC, metro area. If you do not live in this area...you can still learn from this. If you are like, I'll never go to DC so why do I give a fuck...well...please burn in Hell one day for me...and by that I mean, may you get stuck on your way from NY to Atlanta in a car with no air conditioner in July in Hell AKA I-95, while I drive by you with my AC and an oldies CD featuring Lenny Williams, "Cause I Love You." Thank you.***]

Welcome to the great state of Virginia. Now, I personally can’t stand Virginia outside of our beltway (I-495)…its just a weird place. Shit that exists inside the Beltway, which includes Washington, DC and my suburbs of Maryland, and let?ƒ¥s include the rest of Maryland, makes sense…but that damn Virginia is just a fucked up place. Which explains why Hell would be in Virginia. I mean, of all the places in America, to include Mississippi, Utah, etc…it surprises me none that Virginia would house Hell.

So let me discuss Hell a little bit more in depth, so you’ll understand where you’ll be going when you fuck up.Most of us have been stuck in traffic before. Especially folks in LA, Atlanta, New York City, Chicago, etc. Most of the time, somebody has been in a car accident, and you are pissed for the most part that they had the nerve to get into an accident and fuck up traffic for miles…but once you get started going again, you get over it. So let me ask you….what would you do if you were NEVER able to get out of traffic. As in, the entire about 90 miles between two major cities was entirely full of traffic. As in…you wished somebody was in a 60-car pileup just so you’d have a reason to really have been sitting there for that long only to have gone 5 miles. Wait…what is that long??

Example: One day, myself and an entourage of upwardly mobile black people decided that we’d make a trip from the DC suburb of Alexandria, Virginia, to Paramount’s Kings Dominion Amusement Park. It is located in Doswell, Virginia, roughly 20 miles north of Richmond, Virginia. This means we had an about 70 mile trip to make…from exit 175 to exit 98. Hmm…sound easy enough right? Well mi compadres…this muhfuckin’ trip took something close to 4 hours to make. FOUR. CUATRO. QUATRE. FO’. THREE PLUS ONE. TWO PLUS TWO. For 70 got damn miles. Now I don’t know about you…but let’s be real. You can do 70 miles nowadays in under an hour if you are really pushing it. I like to speed. I have several speeding tickets to my name to prove this fact. And it was all highway miles. We literally sat in traffic for the entire 4 hours. This is enough time to determine that you hate somebody. Not that this occured, I’m just saying. And guess how long it took us to get back?

One hour.

Every time I’ve been driving back to Atlanta from DC, or heading to Durham, NC, and had to take this stretch of dastardly highway, I’ve encountered enough piss me off traffic to make me want to smack the shit out of everybody on the highway. Which is why I determined it was hell. You see, while on this stretch of road, I’ve had more un-right thoughts than in anywhere else. It’s the place where I’ve wanted to get violent, where I wanted to come up with some way to maybe knock off a few folks to make my trip faster. Anything that would be looked unfavorably upon my the Man/Woman Upstairs.

And think about this…sitting in traffic gives you time to think. A lot. Say you just had a bad day. Or hell you’re white and you got fired. And you work in DC, but live in Stafford (like 40 miles South of DC). What do you really think is going to consume your thoughts? You might even convince yourself that going back to your job with a Bushmaster rifle to take our your boss is a good idea…all because you’ve had time to think about that shit. And everybody knows…if you think it, it might happen. Unless you’re black and you are just used to getting fired, in which case you are still pissed that you are sitting in traffic. Hell.

The traffic breeds pissedoffedness causing road rage and shit like this…which would only happen in Virginia…which would only house a stretch of highway from DC to Richmond that is capable of being hell…

[TRUE STORY ALERT! TRUE STORY ALERT!]

…a man drives home drunk. Another man drives home from work. Workman gets a flat. Workman changes tire on I-95 Hellway. Drunkman hits Workman and Workman gets stuck in the grill of Drunkman’s truck. Drunkman drives all the way home with Workman stuck in his grill…and leaves him there….for a few days.

People, shit like that doesn’t happen in normal stretches of highway. But in Hell, anything is possible. And that my friends is my warning to you. If ever you are driving through Washington, DC, and you are going North towards of South from, essentially…

…you’re goin’ to Hell.

Moral of the Story: Fly bitch, fly.

***EDIT (10/16/04): Check out the new homie, Shan AKA Nash Diddy, over at her new blog, Shan’s Spot. She keeps me laughing in real life, so I’m sure she will keep you laughing on these e-streets!***

This is all housekeeping stuff…

******

R.I.P. Ol’ Dirty Bastard

******

Next up, coming in December, we here at JGT Enterprises will be bringing you the one, the only :

Jackson G. Tickle Enterprises First Annual Michael Jackson/Condoleeza Rice Commemorative Most Ignant Black Person in America Pageant

The pageant will be coming at you live and direct from a remote location in Maryland. The nominees are lined up and anxiously awaiting their chance to claim an award that they have been clamoring for so adamantly over the past 12 months. The nominees are (currently) : Robert “M.F.N.” Johnson, R. Kelly, Alan Keyes, Ray Benzino, and, my personal favorite…Nelly. Tune in to WPDJ-01 in December for the weeklong pageant featuring expert analysis courtesy of the blog worlds own: Calvin, Liz, Raven, The.Damn.Diva., and myself, Panama Jackson.

P.S. We are still soliciting nominations for the most ignant black person. On the chance that somebody has done something that warrants mentioning, please feel free to mention them, as this award is not to be slept on. I see big things in the future for this individual.

******

Go check out this months edition of The Flow Magazine. The kid has a piece (I hate saying stuff like “piece”, it sounds so artsy fartsy, when basically, I just wrote some shit) called “Heard It All Before.” I also did an album review (under the Juslissen tab) of Nas’ Illmatic. And yes its about 10 years too late but the theme of the mag this month is waxing nostalgic…so if you read through and notice that a lot of the articles, what have you, seem to make mention of things from the past…you’ll know why. Bigups to Lisa and Tionne for doing such a great job with The Flow.

******

And as a last, and completely unrelated type of thing…

In the past few days my musical tastes have been questioned from every possible angle. I have stated that I do not like India.Arie (and have been told I may have to be cut back due to this), think Jill Scott’s album is, well, boring…actually like Jagged Edge and realized I prefer songs that have no significant meaning (basically none of that Brian McKnight, Eric Benet stuff), think Beyonce is a better singer than the MUCH overrated Alicia Keys, have been laughed at for liking Mario’s new song “Let Me Love You”, all resulting in damn near death threats on my life. To everybody who takes issue with my musicl tastes…ahem…

(*clearing throat*)

Kiss my ass.

And New Edition is the 2nd greatest boy band ever…behind only the Jackson 5.

Thank you. (*In best Michael Jackson voice*) I love you all.

This has been a QuickPost courtesy of Panama D. Jackson, CEO, COO, HNIC, and Head Honcho at Jackson G. Tickle Enterprises.

I’m fed up. I’m annoyed. I’m bothered. And worse than all of those…

…I’m worried.

We have a problem in the black community. Well, we have ANOTHER problem in the black community anyway. And its a double-edged sword kind of problem.

Nothing shocks or surprises us anymore in our neighborhoods.

And that pisses me off. But before I get to all of that…let me explain to you what caused this gradually building up pissedoffedness.

I live in a fringe community. What’s that you ask? Well, I basically live on the Maryland side of Eastern Avenue, NE, which is the border between Washington, DC, and the State of Maryland. So I live on the outer fringe of DC. This means two things. It means for one, that I live in the suburbs, and two, that the term suburb is HIGHLY overrated. So overrated in fact, that my neighborhood doesn’t even really get the privilege of being called a suburb…we call it DC Extended.

Why do we call it DC Extended? Well, because my neighborhood likes to substitue itself as the hood on many occasions. Just basically to demonstrate what I mean, I’m going to give you some scenarios…this is in no way meant to signal that I live in the ghetto. It is actually a nice looking community on both sides of the DC line, but really, its just damn hood.

Since moving into this community a little bit over 3 years ago the following things have occurred (and solely based upon my memory):

• at least 10 murders have occurred, with the most recent happening in my apartment complex…by being burnt to death on purpose,
• my roommates car has been stolen from our parking lot,
• any number of cars have been broken into…in my parking lot,
• at least one ambulance, police car, and fire truck will come barrelling down the main street (which I live on) a week…actually like every two to three days,
• one of my boys came sprinting into my apartment one day because a barrage of gunshots were coming from my street’s random hoodlums,
• the 7-11 right up the block has been robbed at least once,
• the 7-11 up the block in the other direction has been robbed at least once,
• another friend of mine’s next door neighbor had his tires/rims stolen off of his car, and
• in my apartment building as well as all the other apartment buildings in my neighborhood, there are signs that sporadically show up reminding you that crime in your neighborhood is rising.

This is by no means an exhaustive list of things that have happened. And honestly, it isn’t what annoys me either. I’m not annoyed at all the shit that happens in my neighborhood…

…I’m pissed and annoyed that it doesn’t phase me at all. I’m pissed that I have come to expect that shit out of my own community. I’m pissed that I can sleep at night and not think twice about anything that happens, because…its just what happens when you live where I live.

And that’s the problem we face in our communities everyday. It’s like we have to learn to be desensitized to the drama and bullshit so much that when something happens to us, you are somewhat immune to it. You take that shit as fact and when other people tell you its crazy and are worried about you and your situation, you just say…

…that’s life.

You know what…that shit isn’t life. It’s fucked up actually. I work with a bunch of white people who live in nicer neighborhoods, and it always shocks me that they are genuinely surprised at the things I tell them that I’ve seen in my life, or the things that happen in my neighborhood, and at first I didn’t get it. I’m like, why is this so shocking? It happens to everybody right?? And you know what, one day it dawned on me…THAT SHIT ISN’T NORMAL! At least it shouldn’t be. Nobody should be so used to gunshots that you know to automatically duck down until it stops and then go back to playing playstation. Nobody should have too…

And yet, I’m able to brush that shit off and go to sleep easily. When my roomate told me his car was stolen, I felt bad for him, but I wasn’t surprised…hell, I look outside every so often just to make sure my car is still there. In fact, I honestly HALF expect to go outside one day and my car won’t be there. I won’t be shocked, or even mad…I’ll be like, yep, sooner or later that was going to happen.

That’s a mentality that is plaguing our communities all over. And it shouldn’t have to be that way. I’m glad I have some hood sense about me. When you live in neighborhoods that some call Kosovo or Beirut, you tend to learn how to deal. In fact, you tend to think nothing of your surroundings as long as you pay attention and know what to look for. But shit, I’m getting tired of overanalyzing every person that walks by me. I don’t want to have to analyze strategies in my mind on how to avoid being robbed strictly depending on which hand this fool puts in his pocket. I mean, I’m glad I’m good at strategizing, but I’m not getting PAID for that knowledge.

You see where I’m going with this? I want to be genuinely fuckin’ shook when somebody gets murdered next door to me. When somebody gets shot on my backporch…I don’t want to be like, that nigga had it coming (actually has happened). I want to be nervous because that shit just doesn’t happen where I live. When you read these news stories about bad things happening in good neighborhoods, especially white neighborhoods, the people lose their minds, lock their doors, put their kids in front of the television for months, and start neighborhood watch programs. When bad shit happens in bad neighborhoods…

…life goes on.

The next day. People just say it’s a shame and move on.

I’m fuckin’ fed up. I want to be surprised when something goes down. I want to honestly be fuckin’ shook up when my car gets stolen. I don’t want to be able to laugh about that shit and come up with the scenario that was used to jack my car. I want the people in my neighborhood to say, I can’t believe that happened…not, “you hear about that shit that happened. Damn shame what happened to Publisha…she had that shit coming though.”

Is it so much to ask to not have to PLAN on crime happening? And granted, some shit I wasn’t expecting has occurred, like my whole tire being taken off my car, bolts and all. And you know what, I wasn’t even mad. Well, except that they took my bolts because I couldn’t put the spare tire on…but other than that, I just laughed about it, was like that’s life. No surprise, no nervous, no worries…

I don’t think that shit will happen to somebody else. You know why, because we’re all somebody else…to somebody else. Because of that, I think it will happen to me sooner or later. And I won’t even be surprised. How can I be, I’m used to it. And that bothers me. A lot.

So…just once, I want to be surprised.

Just got damn once.

[***This album is currently available for your listening pleasure at MTV.com on The Leak along with Eminem's horrendous album and Lil Jon's new album (and no, I have no idea why I mentioned Lil Jon's album).***]

In my quest at discussing things, at length, that sometimes only interest me, I’ve gotten away from what I love most, criticizing music. You see, I’m an avid music lover. I buy lots of music, even gained a reputation amongst my peers as being that dude that would buy anything. I would just buy shit because the store had it at one point. Really, nothing lights up the room like being the one grown ass black man who actually purchased Hillary Duff’s solo offering…

*horrified and blank stares from audience*

Okay, okay…I’m joking!

(I’m really not joking.)

*hanging head in shame*

Anyway…back to the point of this discussion. I was fortunate to come up on Destiny’s Child’s new soon to be released (11/15/2004) CD, Destiny Fulfilled, yesterday from a friend of mine who dabbles in unreleased new shit. She is able to get it like nobody’s business. Music that is. Shall we begin?? Yes, let’s.

Can they do it again? Will people still care about them?
Can Kelly and Michelle hang with Beyonce?? Is this really ANOTHER Beyonce solo album? How exactly did the Eagles get trounced by the Steelers yesterday? Ooops, sorry, wrong post. Are there any just standout tracks? Where is the Honeycomb Hideout?? Why am I asking so many questions? Do I even know?? Do I? Do I?

Okay, first things first. The album is just damn good. Period. From beginning to end. These girls can harmonize their asses off. The vocal arrangements are incredible. Beyonce has one of the strongest voices I’ve heard in a long time, and Christina Aguilera can go to hell. Kelly Rowland sounds a lot like Beyonce, but can still sing her ass off. I will get to Michelle later, because yes, she deserves her own section. This isn’t just another Beyonce offering as all of the women get their time to shine.

Those are the basics…now to the nitty gritty. The tracks on this album are amazing to say the least. And since there are only eleven, and a bonus track, I can pretty much go song for song, but I’ll probably skip a few.

[***Sidenote: Have you ever wondered why the hell they offer bonus tracks and then label them joints bonus tracks? Like why isn't it just song number 12. Who the fuck thought this was a good idea? You don't have to skip through a song to hear it or wait through 4 minutes of nothing to get to it...it's just fucking song number 12! Big Mat Dog AKA Matthew Knowles...really, what's the point??***]

As the nation has heard thus far, “Lose My Breath” is the first single. And its amazing. If you don’t like this song you are a hater and should light yourself on fire in a shower while listening to RuPaul’s greatest hits and smoking a cyanide laced cigarette. If it isn’t too much to ask. High school and college bands across the nation have fallen in love with this percussion heavy track. Shit is just good. Period. Point blank. “Soldier,” is the next single and though I pretty much think the beat is some pure and utter biship, the girls singing over it make it that much better. It’s also the song where she outs that her and Jay-Z are dating with a subliminal message about a soldier from BK. So just in case you were living under a rock for the last 2 years, she gives you something to NOW think about. Slow muhfuckas. It features the guest spots of T.I. and Lil’ Wayne to give it the southern feel. Oh yeah, this shit is ghetto too, like they are even talking about chiefin’ (smoking weed) in the song. Da hell???

This is a good time to bring this up. These women’s voices are incredible together, but Beyonce makes every song she sings on BETTER. Like it might be a good song before, but her voice makes shit great. Resistance is futile. You can hate if you want, but her voice is just great…smack your mama great. Like really, if I meet anybody who tells me that she can’t sing, I think I reserve the right to slap the living shit out of said person. Who are they kidding? I mean really…

She’s fine too. Just in case you were wondering.

In further proof, that all three of them are whipped or sprung like shit on somebody, the song “Cater 2 U” is next on the menu. And you don’t need to be smart to understand what they are talking about. It’s self explanatory, but the music is just great on this song. According to MTV.com, its produced by either Rodney Jerkins or Rich Harrison (they confused me so I’m not sure who produced it). Either way…its great. Then comes the T-shirt klepto inducing song of the new year, “T-Shirt” about what the women do in their man’s t-shirts. Fellas, be on the lookout, your T-Shirts will be stolen, REPEAT, will be stolen so your chick can sleep, smile, love, bathe, cook, drive…in your T-shirt.

Next up we have the songs “Is She The Reason” and “Girl” courtesy of underground rap turned mainstream producer du jour, 9th Wonder (Little Brother, Jay-Z’s “Threat”). Never has one man benefited so much from knowing the man fucking Beyonce. He got not one, but TWO songs on this guaranteed to be platinum album. That, ladies and gentlemen, is what we call a come-up. Both of these songs are laid back soul-sample songs, and just undeniably good. Kind of feel good type of songs, even though the first one is talking about cheating or losing your man and shit. But feel-good nontheless.

Because I’m losing my patience…let me get to the three best songs on the album in my opinion. Mother May I??? The song “If” is just damn good (though it kind of sounds like its missing something, but I’m okay with that). I mean, when it first came on, I couldn’t do anything but (gay moment of the day coming…NOW)…smile. It has the same underlying melody as Lloyd Banks, “Karma”, except since this is a woman’s group singing it, its not gay. It’s just great. But my hands down favorite song on this CD is…

…”Free.” The music on this song is so undeniably good it will make you call somebody and tell them about it. Okay, maybe that’s just me. It’s a song about realizing that a man doesn’t deserve you and finally becoming free. Well, I didn’t even realize that until after maybe the 10th time listening to it because the music is just that great on it. Their singing on this song is way “far out” too. They all sound absofuckin’lutely great on this song. It’s just some good old fashioned feel good picnic song shit. I could really go on and on about this, I mean I told one of my friends about 8 or 9 times that this song is just wonderful. It really is…honestly, I mean I like a lot and you will too, because its that good…I mean really…

You have just witnessed overkill.

And the other just ridiculously great song is “Love.” This song is about how finding love makes them feel. You know, the butterflies and all that cutesy type stuff. It really is just a good song…to complement a really good album. Their harmonizing is lovely, Beyonce and Kelly are as strong as ever vocally, and the music is just great, and it has to be, because…

…fuckin’ Michelle almost ruined like three of the songs with her shitty ass voice. Luckily, Beyonce and Kelly can make up for it. Now I know that sounds harsh. But fuck you…its supposed to be. Wait until you hear, “Is She The Reason.” You’ll be sitting there, listening intently, loving it, feeling it, just drifting off into aural bliss, and then…

…WHAM!…fuckin’ Michelle comes in with her raspy non-fitting bridge that just fucks up the whole thing. I damn near spit out my red Kool-Aid when I heard her ass start singing solo. It was horrible. Her voice, solo, does not fit with these damn songs…at all. She almost fucked up, “If,” but was saved by the great music. On “Lose My Breath” you can’t really tell because the beat drowns her out, but on “Is She The Reason”, buddy, oh buddy, you can tell. I’m just saying beware for this shit is all. Just be prepared.

Overall, the album is more mid-tempo than past offerings, a la Usher’s CD, and is really good the whole way through. Their voices are just unbelievably good together, and as always Beyonce’s voice is just lovely. There are a few songs that aren’t AS good as the others, but put them joints on anybody else’s album and they are singles. So in the famous words of Missy Elliot…

…cop that shit.

Panama’s Position: 8.5/10 Pimpslaps

Destiny’s Child-Destiny Fulfilled (Columbia) Tracklisting

1. Lose My Breath
2. Soldier feat. T.I. and Lil’ Wayne
3. Cater 2 U
4. T-Shirt
5. Is She The Reason
6. Girl
7. Bad Habit
8. If
9. Free
10. Through With Love
11. Love
12. Game Over (Bonus Track)

[***Reference: In case you don't know about my theories regarding Starbucks, please see here and here.***]

Fuck.

I don’t think you heard me.

Fuck.

You know, the result of the election has made me rethink a lot of things. And by the way, I will be cursing A LOT. Can somebody, anybody, please the fuck explain to me how George “G-Dubs” Bush has managed to dupe over half the got damn voters into believing that “cultural values” (whatever the shit that means) are more important than the war we started and are having a pretty damn hard time finishing in Iraq, and the deaths of innocent Americans and Iraqis. So much so, the fact that:

1. No credible link between al-Qaeda and Saddam Hussein has been established,
2. No weapons of mass destruction have been found,
3. I still have no proof that Dick Cheney is actually alive,
4. Gay marriage has shit to do with shit,
5. People are still broke as fuck,
6. Jobs are being shipped across seas with G-Dubs approval,

isn’t even important and people THOUGHT he was the right man for the job. I must be living in an alternate universe. This has led me to one undeniable, inevitable, it must be fuckin’ true conclusion:

GEORGE W. BUSH RUNS STARBUCKS.

At first I just thought that Starbucks was an independent entity determined to destroy the black and inner city communities thereby creating a better place for white people to live and work. WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEW, got damn I was wrong. Starbucks and its ACTUAL leader, G-Dubs, have bigger plans.

Look, there is no stopping Starbucks…unless the people recognize what Starbucks is doing to the community. I still believe that Starbucks can be stopped, or at least negotiated with in some capacity to make sure that les negroes and les white folks can somehow manage to co-exist, or at least without the complete and utter fuckin’ displacement of les negroes!

However…

…there ain’t no stoppin’ G-Dubs. The REAL leader of the G-Unit. Fuck 50 Cent. They need to start callin’ Bush, All Mighty Dollar. Think about this shit, if Bush wants to take out a country, *cough*Iraq*cough*, this muhfucka can and is able to do so. Fuck, he already has. And yet…and fuckin’ yet…he is able to avert that problem into convincing us that other muhfucka’s are who we are supposed to be afraid of. I’m not saying terrorism isn’t real…I’m sayin’ call a fuckin’ spade a spade.

Now how does this play into Starbucks, you ask?? Well you gonna learn…you GONNA LEARN!!!! Every fucked up company needs a leader. He is simultaneously able to run two different fronts. One international with his Presidency, cuz if you think this shit is gonna stop with Iraq your bullshittin’ yourself. The other is the domestic front, through Starbucks he is able to change the inner cities into white enclaves under the guise of safety for all those that live there. Guess who is making the neighborhoods unsafe, kicko???? Us negroes, hispanics…basically that’s it. Do you all realize that at one point they were referring to gangs, crews, etc. as domestic terrorists?? How fucked up is that? You rob one muhfucka and you get Osama’d??? That just doesn’t seem right. But it is happening. And let your ass catch a terror rap for some shit, UNDER the jail might be like Club Med after that shit.

[***Sidenote: Some more shit to think about. That muhfucka was trying to get re-elected. For his entire first 4 years he was still campaigning. He couldn't piss everybody off and step on everybody's toes. Not anymore bitches. Now, he doesn't have as much pressure as he did before...this muhfucka is coasting from here on out. You remember the governor of Illinois who pardoned 4 death row black inmates because he was retiring??? Why did he do it?? Because he fuckin' could...Now imagine if you will, WHAT THE PRESIDENT COULD DO JUST CUZ HE FUCKIN' CAN???***]

And you know what else pisses me off? Shit if you don’t I’m going to tell you. It’s like the black vote really does get stifled, muzzled, fucked. I hate to pull the race shit here but I’m black, fuck you. I hate to say this shit out loud…but honestly, we can’t win. There just aren’t enough of us. We are too spread out. We are between and 12-13% of the US population. Hispanics are like 13-14% of the US population. Not only are we not all voting…we don’t have enough pull. Black issues will never fully be addressed and further than that, I don’t think Starbucks fuckin’ cares. Appealing to the black churches just to get elected doesn’t make me happy. Where the shit are you when you aren’t campaigning, Mr. Bush man…Mr. President man?

Fuckin’ roaches.

And I’ll bet this is some shit that wasn’t taken into account here…there were so many efforts to get out the Youth vote which would definitely favor Democrats. Look, a lot of Republicans might be dumb…but them muhfuckas ain’t stupid. You start telling folks that if they don’t show up to vote, the young people are going to get that nigger lover Democrat welfare bitch Kerry elected. Umm…you think that shit didn’t help this election get somewhere like 110 million folks to the polls??? It’s the same tactic that got so many Democrats and young people voting…that shit cuts both ways.

Yes, got dammit yes, I have digressed.

Back to Starbucks. Bush is able to head up a double pronged attack in his position as President of the United States and CEO of Starbucks (yes I know he isn’t the “official” CEO). The duping of America into forgetting how much bullshit has been wraught under Bush’s watch causing us to be more concerned with “values” than the fact that people are needlessly dying in Iraq everyday is why he is the head of Starbucks. That is what Starbucks does, with its evil it lulls you into a false sense of “that’s great” then pounces on your ass like Tigger or Michael Jackson on a little kid’s bed. And every Evil Empire needs a figure head.

The Yankee’s have Steinbrenner.

The Children of PBS have Barney.

and…

…Starbucks has George W. Bush…the most lethal gangster of all.

He sends your kids to die. And they have to go.

That muhfucka is the Man….and you know he drinks coffee.

[***The following Self-Help Instructional Manual can be ordered from Jackson G. Tickle Enterprises by calling 1-800-GME-MULA!***]

Hi, my name is Dr. Panama D. Jackson, OPP. You may remember me from such “How To” videos as “How to Jackslap a Hoe That Hasn’t Paid You All Your Money” or “How to Flee A Country When Your President Has Just Re-elected Himself.”

Actually, that one is in the works.

Actually, its already been written here. (spotted via Hiphopmusic.com)

Today I’d like to present the manual on how to enjoy a Morehouse College/Spelman College Homecoming in Atlanta, GA. Now one would think this to be an easy endeavor. I beg to differ. There are many little things one must prepare for ahead of time in order to maximize the potential of a homecoming. Especially of the Morehouse/Spelman variety. There is no small time pimping going on here…

…its all big pimpin’. So pay attention and you too may be able to weave this how to guide into a way to enjoy your own HBCU homecoming to the fullest!

[***Sidenote: Now of course...I have to do this. If you remember I went to Las Vegas in September, then to Los Angeles in October. Well, the EXACT same group was once again present (minus a person or two) PLUS a bunch of people who stay in Atlanta AND then some new folks. EACH AND EVERY person made this weekend one of the greatest homecomings to date. In fact...getting grown is almost annoying now because I have accumulated a great group of friends and can't spend all day everyday with them doing nothing. In fact...I'd put my friends up against any other folks' friends in a "battle of best friends" competition on MTV! In fact, why is there not a reality TV show based upon this premise? And I got something like 18 or so people on my squad who know eachother like Whitney knows Bobby's going BACK to jail. Yeah...its like that. For all those that will read this...I love you all...new and old people! One more for the books...another weekend where I honestly felt whole. Thanks! For life...***]

Before we get to exactly what you must do to enjoy yourself at homecoming, let’s make sure you have all the things you need upfront. It’s not a long list, but very very vital. First, you need money. You can’t have any fun at homecoming without money…you know why??? Because you have spend money on liquor to make drinks. Which leads to the second must have, somebody who can make killer drinks. Why is this important?? Because if you all pool your resources upfront, you can get drunk BEFORE you get to the club which will SAVE you money. You can then buy one sureshot ass drink at the club that will last you for the rest of the evening. The last thing you will definitely need is a camera. Because you will be drunk from spending money on liquor that your compadre hooked up into some serious shit, you’ll need proof to remember that you were even there at all. Having a good time at homecoming is priceless…the inability to remember any of it…fucked up. Bring a camera.

Recap: Need money to buy drinks and a person who can make drinks and a camera to prove it all happened.

Now to the nitty gritty.

Panama Jackson’s Guide to Enjoying a Morehouse/Spelman Homecoming (simultaneoulsy applicable at all HBCU’s)

1. Get to the airport early…unless your really excited about going to homecoming. The more excited you are the greater your chance of having your flight delayed for NO apparent reason leaving from Washington-Dulles International Airport. This will cause you to have to find something to do for, hell I don’t know, 2 hours in a terminal that only has two stores…Starbucks and a Fox News Channel store. I think God was playing with me. To remedy this I suggest having a drink at the airport. Nothing says homecoming like getting tipsy before you even get there.

2. Be prepared to drink for the whole weekend. This includes arriving to the homecoming spot and getting lit up from the second you walk into your homeboy’s house. This is possible by having a young woman in a house full of dudes making drinks that for some reason pack more of a punch than Mike Tyson in his prime walking around Bolivion. Also be prepared to not go anywhere for the rest of the evening…because you will forget that somebody needs to be the designated driver, and everybody in said place is drunk.

Addendum to #2: On the off chance that somebody does show up who isn’t drunk. Have him take you to Waffle House. Just make sure that bitch isn’t being robbed at 2am when you decide to go there. Basically, make sure you know where another Waffle House is just in case the one you stop by…is being robbed.

3. Make sure your gear is tight. To do this, it is important to make a trip to the mall of some sort. This also brings up an ethical question though. If an attractive woman working in the store you choose to buy a shirt from is clearly interested in obtaining your info…are you required to get her phone number??? These and other important ethical issues arise during homecomings.

4. Have a bunch of your friends cook dinner at their house with the only requirement being that you must bring liquor. It is also important that the people throwing the dinner party can actually COOK. Also, make sure they make lots of bread-ish type meals. That is important because of…

5. Drink as much as you can. Make sure that one of the people present is an excellent drink maker. So good that even if you hate the Blue Raspberry martini’s that he makes…after the 5th one it doesn’t matter anymore becuase you can’t even taste them. What this does is open up the air in the room for strange conversations. Especially conversations that entail determining how much ass a woman has by determing her “Bob” level. This can also lead to locating the one true “Robert Johnson” style ass…as in they own it. Some people have “Bob”…some people have “b”…but some folks have complete and total “Robert ‘muhfuckin’ Johnson”. Just so you know…if you ever hear a dude walking behind you and he starts talking about Bob…its me and my boy. Hands down.

If you’ll notice thus far…we’ve still made very little mention of the actual Morehouse/Spelman locales or anything. It would seem that the older you get, the less the actual school matters. It’s all about the people that went there.

6. Get thee to a club. After downing the martinis, taking pictures you don’t remember taking, and having conversations that would obviously never occur unless you are inebriated, go to a club that has a huge dancefloor and lots of people. Drunk dancing is the most fun dancing you can have. But drunk crossing the street…GOT DAMN that is hands down the most challenging shit. Crossing Peachtree Street in Atlanta, GA, is like playing fuckin’ Frogger if you have been drinking a lot of martini’s. I suggest this at least once.

By the way…total drink count at this point, from Thursday evening to Friday evening is in the 15-20 range. Including rum & Cokes, and martinis. If you are behind to this point…well, I’m just disappointed.

7. Now this step is very important. Wake up the next morning.

8. Plan appropriately for the tailgate. Now this is very very important. It involves proper time management. There is this drink that has been dubbed Uncle Ricky’s Punch (hereafter known as the Punch). It is hands down a delicassy. One my boys cooks this crack in his kitchen. It is important to have White Grape Peach juice for this. If you aren’t careful, finding some damn White Grape Peach juice can take you over 2 hours and 1 Wal-mart, 2 Krogers. I’m just saying…fuckin’ plan ahead for that shit or you’ll be pissed because you are trying to get to the tailgate and you end driving around Southwest Atlanta and into neighborhoods you didn’t even know existed and fear for your life ultimately ending up leaving like 2 hours later than you planned when you already woke up late…over some damn White Grape Peach Juice.

8. More tailgatery. Be prepared for random ass requests from folks who know you are out looking for White Grape Peach Juice.

9. More tailgatery. After the Punch has been made…TASTE THAT SHIT. If you don’t feel a single thing after drinking it. It’s perfect. You now know you will be drunk by the time you leave from the tailgate…of course you have to get there. Which reminds me…if possible, do not try to pack 6 GROWN ass people into a Honda Civic. Or better yet…ask to drive. NOTHING, I repeat NOTHING was more uncomfortable and joke inducing than grown ass people literally sitting on eachother. I mean, we all got jobs and shit. It just didn’t seem right.

10. Get to the tailgate and walk around and enjoy being a graduate of Morehouse and love seeing all the black folks you haven’t seen in a year and just enjoy life all around. Also…be prepared. Saturday is somewhat a blur for me. I got more phone numbers and business cards than I can even remember. Thanks to the Punch. Also, don’t get greedy with the punch…share the punch and you’ll have strange women coming up to you later talking about how good that damn punch is and giving you wonderful hugs.

11. Gatorade. Hmmm…what does this mean? Well, last year, I decided that I was going to bring a bag full of liquor with me to the tailgate. That was such a huge success I just couldn’t not do it again. So once again, I had a 32 Oz. bottle of Punch and a 32. Oz bottle of Rum and Coke in my bag, along with lots of cups to share the wealth, and some 151.

Because I can’t remember shit after this point during the actual day, just enjoy yourself. You will be drunk.

[***Another Sidenote: I notice that I sound like a lush. Well, maybe I am. But only during social events. And, I never waste the liquor...I always drink it all!!! And for you rookies...151 is no joke. Amongst my folks...we took a complimentary shot for Morehouse of 151. It WILL burn going down. That is a promise. Only for live men...not for freshmen. Remember that! And please chase that shit witih more liqour. Your day will be that much better!***]

Drink total from Thursday evening to Saturday afternoon: About 15-20 cup drinks, a shot of 151 (we actually drank the whole bottle off of offering everybody a shot in fuckin’ view…I should have bought another bottle), a 32 oz. bottle of Punch, a 32 oz. bottle of run and Coke, and also drinking somebody else’s Punch. Good times.

13. Please oh please find out where the hot spot is. Going to the right club during homecoming is vital. EVERYBODY is throwing a party. That means that one of them bitches is going to be empty. To avoid ending up there, stay in constant contact with lots of different people. Upon finding the right spot…don’t drink anything else liquor related. You will not feel good. And, have a good damn time. Get your boogie on.

14. You will be tired at this point. So let me remix that last sentence, get your boogie on as much as your body will let you. But always always always…make time to hit up the dance floor when any southern crunk song or “It’s time for the perculator…” comes on. This is vital.

By this point…your homecoming experience is almost over and sad thoughts of having to say good-bye will creep in when you leave the club. You will no longer be drunk…just happy that you were there…which leads to the final step.

15. Don’t take your friends for granted. If you actually have friends you are really lucky. If you have about 20 folks you can honestly call GOOD friends…well, consider yourself to one of the luckiest bastards on earth.

I’m a lucky bastard.

Just for kicks, there were some highlights of the weekend: taking a picture with both Coral and Arissa from Real World, seeing Stringer Bell lame himself out in club Visionz doing his regular DJ thing, hanging out with the one and only Pinchback, seeing the homies Barry, Cade, hangin’ tough with the homie KillaCal, hanging with my homies from Cali, Atlanta, Hephzibah, NY, DC, seeing those special folks you don’t get to see nearly enough (regardless of who’s league they belong too), meeting some new great new folks, seeing the great old folks…just basically all around…

…being back at Morehouse/Spelman.

One last thing…if you get too drunk you will offer to give somebody’s non-profit $1 million when you get rich.

Morehouse/Spelman Homecoming 2004. You got to love it.

WPDJ-DC Channel 3.4 Newsbreak-Election Day Coverage in Washington, DC

Local Newscaster AKA Halle Berry lookalike: In late breaking news, Panama Jackson was spotted at a polling station in Hyattsville, MD, casting his vote for the President of the United States of America. We got a chance to catch up with Young Panama and ask him a few questions. Panama…how does it feel to have voted???

Our Political Presidential (OPP) Panama: Man…it feels good to get that out of the way. I mean between waiting for November 2nd and trying to make sure Jesse Jackson wasn’t making any last second surprise anouncements at the Presidency, I’ve been swamped. How do you feel???

HBL: Umm…wasn’t expecting any questions myself but umm…I feel…good??? Anyway, what’s the general feel at the polls?

OPP Panama: You know, its a good feeling in there. I mean between the shouts of “Fuck Bush” and seeing this many black people in one place at one time…and there is no concert…well, it actually felt pretty good. Like a family reunion almost…except without that belligerent uncle who keeps fondling your cousin…who is also his niece ya dig?? No…well, not in my family…I was just sayin’…in general…about something I had seen on TV…umm…next question!

HBL: Riiiiiiiiiiight…so with all the push by P.Diddy and Russell Simmons to get out the young vote, was the young vote present???

OPP Panama: It was definitely in effect, word up…dope style! My bad…I think I set my clock back too far on Saturday night. I live in a neighborhood filled up with lots of college students…mostly cuz its cheap and close to the ghetto, even sometimes substituting as the ghetto, and close to Howard University, and I saw lots of what appeared to be Howard Students in the hizzouse. What I also saw that had me trippin’ was the gang-banger homies up in the joint getting their vote on. Hell I saw one dude with the old-school half-cornrowed, half-afro loook coming out the polls. If that’s because of Diddy, well, he’s alright with me.

HBL: So you are saying the “Vote or Die” campaign really got to a large audience??

OPP Panama: Hell yeah. In fact, it surprised me that I only saw one person with a “Vote or Die” t-shirt on. But then I realized, I live in the hood, and started paying closer attention. People were apparently saving their real “Vote or Die” shirts for the clubs and wearing home-made “Vote or Die” shirts for election day. Yes…I saw more than one home-made “Vote or Die” shirts today at the polls. Though the women wearing them were quite nice…

HBL: Panama, that’s not important at all.

OPP Panama: I would have to disagree with you, because it would seem that voting turned my polling station into the club. And for that I must give credit to Bush. He pissed people off so badly, even the fine women are out at 845am voting looking like LL Cool J was a surprise guest. And its hard to EVER find the fine women in DC. It’s almost like they don’t exist here or something.

[***DISCLAIMER: I agree with everything I've just said. End disclaimer.***]

OPP Panama (cont’d): Add that to the fact that fine women bring out men…well all its gonna take is the right person on the radio to mention that he saw a dime-piece at the polls and negroes will be out in full force. In fact, the candidates were going about getting black folks voting all wrong. To get the men, you put fine women at all the polling places and have them say “Vote Kerry” in deep dulcet and lush tones. And to get the black women voting…get Boris Kodjoe, Taye Diggs, Morris Chesnutt, taller versions of Larenz Tate, and any other black male celebrity du jour and have them show up at poll stations across the country.

And to get old black people…tell them Jesse Jackson is on the ballot…again.

HBL: So you are saying that black people need an incentive to vote? Is that what you are saying Panama???

OPP Panama: Yes. When was the last time you DIDN’T show up for free food? In fact, if they had a free breakfast buffet at the polls…it would be a wrap! Though it seems that people hating Bush got all the black people to the polls anyway. I mean I waited in line for like 2 hours to vote.

HBL: Alright, Panama…thanks for the interview…though it was a bit strange. Any last words??

OPP Panama: I’d just like to say that it was something beautiful to see all the black folks out voting today and wanting to be apart of something when so many of our ancestors couldn’t. Especially the dudes that look like they might rob me tomorrow. I got to say that I can appreciate the work that everybody has done to convince people to get out and vote. I’ve talked to folks in Atlanta, LA, and have heard about some folks in Ohio, and they are saying that the people were out in full force. Vote or Die, bitches. Ain’t no time like the present to make a better tomorrow…

HBL: This has been a Halle Berry Lookalike for WPDJ News in Washington, DC.

Vote or Die.