Jackson G. Tickle Enterprises Presents…Panama’s Propositions

…and Superman’d that ho.

Man kisses ailing wife, hurls her from balcony

I think it’s official. Hell has won. I’ve reached the maximum amount of Hell points possible. It was a good fight and I fought the good fight, but man, how could I NOT take that angle. It incorporates pop-culture, assholish irony, and pure and total unabashed comedy.

You know you wanted to laugh.

Anyway, as you can tell from the story (and title of this post) a man Superman’d his wife from a balcony because he could not afford to continue paying for her health care. Mind you, this is a sentiment that is shared by many Americans as we grapple with the argument for universal health care.

Then again, I have to wonder how many people have dreamed of wanted to do the same thing with an ailing family member but thought better of it and then went to pray for their soul for the heinous act that they wanted to commit.

America, this is how bad its gotten. White people have taken to tossing their family members out the window because we’re just gotdamn broke. It’s bad enough that gas prices are high. Hell, he probably wasted some of the money he could use for her health care just driving her back and forth to places. It’s enough to make somebody want to throw somebody off a balcony!

Oh…right.

All jokes aside, I don’t know all the sides of the issue involving universal health care. I do know that our taxes would have to increase and this is not a country where people (namely the rich) want to use their tax money for other people’s social services. Which is a shame, for a country that prides itself on the common man having the opportunity to come from nothing to becoming a rich person, we sure do forget that it takes a nation of people to make that happen.

I would hope that nobody’s life and finances would ever be so bad that you’d have to resort to throwing family members over a balcony, despite KNOWING you’re going to get caught. Let’s face it, you can’t just go hurling people over balconies all willy nilly without anybody finding out about it.

Sad sad times and I feel sorry for the man and his wife.

And also, in the event that anybody feels I’m too much of a burden, just tell a muhfucka. Shucks, I’ll be mad as hell if I die because somebody threw me off a balcony!

Just too bad she couldn’t Spiderman that ho…

I saw Beyonce in concert last Thursday at her Washington, DC, show at the Verizon Center.

Admittedly, I wasn’t excited about going. For whatever reason, seeing Beyonce live just wasn’t high on my list of goals in life. For one, I’m starting to hate crowds. For two, I’m starting to get really tired of hood-rats.

Beyonce concert? Crowds filled with hood-rats. But I said I’d go so I was going, going, gone.

But I ended up really excited to see Beyonce…and do you want to know why? Of course you want to know why.

It turns out that they actually sell ALOCHOL at the Verizon Center. They had a little liquor stand all next to the entrance to my section. For $7, I was drinking Rum & Cokes. And man was I like a fish in water after that. It changed my whole perspective. All of a sudden the crowds and hood-rats weren’t so important anymore.

And do you know why they weren’t important anymore?

Because I didn’t have to actually REMEMBER them if I didn’t want to. That’s the joy of intoxication; it removes all unpleasant memories (and pleasant ones too, but that’s just splitting hairs, now isn’t it?).

Opening acts were Katy Shotter and Robin Thicke. I do not like Robin Thicke. I abhorred “Lost Without You”. Let me tell you how much I can’t stand “Lost Without You”. Paula Patton, a woman who I think is just uber-smurfing gorgeous, isn’t fine enough to make me watch that video and listen to that gawdawful song.

And Katy Shotter is another white chick from England with who sounds like she has mad soul. She’s Joss Stone’s kissing-cousin or something.

Both were alright but since I don’t like (or care for) either one of them, the best I can do is give them a Almost Around The World Stopping In Malaysia and Back Snap. Not two snaps here, paco.

Beyonce on the other hand is ridiculously good-got-damn-great. I won’t go through the entire show because frankly, I don’t remember all of it. I do know she looked a little thicker than I originally thought which is just great. Like Tony the Tiger great.

Interestingly, while I was watching Beyonce perform (and not fall down the stairs, and you can bet your ass people were watching and WAITING for her to fall), I started to think about her place in society and history, for that matter. I think that when its all said and done, Beyonce is going to go down as the “it” girl for a good decade or two. She’s clearly on top of the game right now. She genuinely makes hits and music she wants to make but I’m almost 100 percent sure that if she wanted to make a bunch of pseudo-serious songs she could and turn in an album that could possibly change R&B, a la Usher’s Confessions.

Panama’s Confession: I don’t have one.

She has style and grace and she’s learned to talk way gooder than she used too. I actually have always liked the way she talked. It was charming in its own way. Sure you never really thought she had anything going on upstairs but hell, I know lots of dumb broke people, it’s nice to have dumb rich people to set your aspirations too. Between her and President Bush, they made you feel like the world was your oyster and isn’t that the real American dream?

But now she can speak and actually has interesting interviews. She’s intriguing.

Her acting could stand to improve a little but hell, she can’t be perfect at everthing. She’s already fine as all hell, can sing better than damn near everybody, except for Andre 3000. He’s totally the best singer ever.

Singing rappers is so hip-hop.

I wonder how it feels to be on top of the world like some of our favorite entertainers. How do you live when everybody wants to either be you or be like you. As I was watching over the damn near packed house at Verizon, I couldn’t help but think about how many of these young (and hell, old) women wanted to Beyonce. And who wouldn’t (except me)? The world is Beyonce’s right now and I’m guessing it will remain hers for a long time.

Of course, I still love Kelly and can’t really stand Michelle. I’m STILL upset at Michelle for fucking up the song “Is She The Reason?” from Destiny Fulfilled. Man she sounded like pure shit on that song. And I couldn’t care less that she makes great gospel music.

As you can see, there wasn’t much depth here. I blame Lil Wayne. He’s been cracking me up lately with his mixtapes and shit. That fellow right there, has managed to make a fan out of me.

“…Chevy grill looking like a set of new braces…”

Not sure why that line cracks me up so much.

Beyonce = “It” Girl

Hate it or love it, she isn’t going anywhere and the world is a better place for it.

…

Well not really, but she DID make “Bootylicious” and for my money, that puts her up there with Martin and Malcolm.

Thank you for upgrading us, B.

I’m pretty sure I’ve discussed this before. But that was then and this is now.

Am I the only person who wishes they’d discovered their various talents much earlier in life? Granted, I’m happy with the choices I’ve made. I’m a Black man with a Master’s degree, good credit, and no kids out of wedlock. That has to put me at least in the slim 1 % of Negroes everywhere. I make a good salary but yet, I’d rather be somewhere else than my current employment at least 95 percent of the time I’m here.

Which could explain why I have a second job that has nothing to do with the first. Speaking of which, how-the-fuck-come everybody does a double take when I tell them what kind of real job I have when I’m at the club? You’d be surprised at the looks, then laughs I get from individuals who find it hard to believe that Your Highness, the Imperial Pimpin’ Panama of the 2nd Order At the 3rd Takeout is an actual asset to the country.

But get this, since my 25th birthday, I’ve begun doing everything I’d thought I’d have been doing as a youth but just never got to doing. Hell, I used to want to work in a club or get into music when I was like 18 but never made any headways into either.

Now? Check for both.

What in Sam Hill was I thinking when I was younger and I had all the free time in the world. In college I had so much free time there was NO reason that I didn’t graduate with a 4.0. Well, except that whole party all the time (bigups to Eddie Murphy for bagging TWO uber-fine broads – that’s right Eddie, don’t let those gay prostitute Norbit setbacks hold you down!).

It’s just crazy at times when I think about the turns that we take in life that lead you where they do. I do tend to believe that things happen for a reason. Or at least I use that as a crutch when things don’t happen like I want them too. Then again, I’ve never been one to pine away at hope for shit to happen. I’ve been pretty lucky to live the life I have. I can walk around with a pink shirt on and nobody thinks I’m gay.

Of course, I refuse to wear my sunglasses at night.

Conflicted. I’ve never really felt that about my life choices. I just wish I’d thought to do or try some of this shit I’m doing at this point a while back. Who knows where I’d be now. I got tired of blogging because it became old hat. I’d gained some exposure (as many people have – I ain’t special) but I wonder what would have happened had I tried my hand at writing back when I had the time to really develop that into a marketable skill.

You know what the worst shit is, I won’t even wonder about it long. I’ll be over it in like 20 seconds.

*waiting*

Over it.

Things happen for a reason so I suppose I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be at this moment. And there are far worse places for me to be. I wonder where I’m going…

…I was voted most likely to be a millionaire by 30 by my high school class. And I feel its possible. Hell, it seems like such an easy feat to accomplish…as SOON as I shed this middle-class content safety zone headtrip that’s been instilled in me by my sometimes-well-to-do parents.

All this to say, integration ruined the world.

Thank you and goodnight.

First things first (I poppa freaks all the honies), I do not look like Juelz Santana. At all. Let’s just put that out there.

However, everytime I wear a bandana, somebody calls me Juelz Santana. I know they’re joking but I hear it all the time. Last year, one of my boys threw a party with the Howard (University) Dental School and I was rocking a black bandana and this group of chicks working the door kept referring to me as Juelz.

Let’s backtrack for a second. Is it even feasible that it makes even one iota of sense to refer to me as such? No. Perhaps, it’s the fact that we’re two lanky lightskinned ninjas who wear bandanas. In fact, lanky wouldn’t cut it. Kevin Garnett is lanky. I’m just skinny (sexxy). I think its the lightskinneded skinny bandana that does it.

But it never fails, which brings us to Saturday night. Like I’ve stated before, I work at a nightclub in DC. I’d tell you which one but then you might come stalk me and kill me and…

…I don’t wanna diiiiiiiiie.

Bone Thugs-n-Harmony said that best.

Well, I had on a black bandana and this one particular girl stood out from the rest, poison as could be, a high powered chest. Ya know, in that past sentence, there was one fact and three un-facts. Two points if you can name that song.

I was standing behind the bar doing what random cats behind the bar do…taking shots with customers and making jokes with the bartenders and waiting for the T-Pain song “Bartender” to come on so that everybody could continue singing about bartenders hopefully bringing people to the bar so that our bartender could do what bartenders do…bartend. Out of the corner of my eye, I see this chick and her friend looking at me all funny and smiling. One of them was giving me the “smile”; the one that says come talk to me, Daddy. And I love it when they call me Big Poppa.

By the way I’d like to point out that embellishment sells books.

I pay these chicks no mind and go on about my business. Hell, I’m working. Well one of them walks up to me and is like, “Juelz?? Juelz Santana?”

Now I’m thinking this is somebody I’ve met before who didn’t remember my name but because they met when I had on a bandana decided to refer to me as the Dipset under-capo.

Nope.

I was like, “(sarcastically) yep…Juelz”.

She kissed my hand and told me that she loves my music and kept trying to follow me around.

End story.

Actually, un-end the story. If I was really Juelz Santana, you’d think she’d wonder why NOBODY else seemed to care in the club. The moral of the story here kiddies is this:

Get chicks drunk because they’ll think you’re a celebrity and probably sleep with you if you even give them one iota of attention.

Good night and good luck.

I’ve got two words for you: Jean “Motherfucking” Strahan.

Also known as the ex-wife, divorcé of one New York Football Giant, Michael Strahan.

Actually that’s three words unless you just count the “Motherfucking” as a nickname (which I do), therefore making it interchangeable, which still renders it as two words. Logic be damned.

Fellas, you REALLY need to consider the shit that you do while you’re married because this here justice system is going to fuck you with no vaseline. Basically, don’t get caught cheating on your wife or you just might lose roughtly 70 percent of your net worth.

Yes bitches, not 50, but 70.

Such is the case in this sad tale about divorce, retribution, and a (must be) woman judge.

To wit:

Michael got taken to the cleaners to the tune of $15.3 million in the divorce (New York Daily News headline: “Wife: 15,000,000, Strahan: 0″). He also had to vacate the couple’s 1906 Montclair, N.J. mansion, the one with the 22,000-square feet, 12 bedrooms, seven baths and a garage big enough for 20 cars.

The ruling was even more than Jean actually sought for the less than six years of marriage. The judge wound up giving up more than half of Michael’s estimated $22 million of net worth. from article, “Giant Headache” from Yahoo! Sports

Say it with me, class: Gotdamn! Dude, getting taken to the cleaners is so not heavy metal. However, if he OJs her ass with a gun instead of a knife, that would definitely qualify him as hip-hop.

Gunplay is so hip-hop. Word to Smith & Wesson.

And why did he get fucked 40 ways from Sunday taken to the cleaners? My guess is he sucks as a husband, but this probably helped:

Strahan’s rep took a beating in the divorce. It was alleged he ditched his wife and twin 2-year-old daughters to jet off with his mistresses, one he supposedly called “Cupcake.” Then there was the time, Jean alleged, he secretly videotaped her sister as she undressed only to later allegedly deposit $30,000 in her bank account.

And, maybe most damaging to female viewers, there was the rebuke by the judge for not remembering Jean’s birthday or their wedding anniversary. Every man knows that’s tough to overcome.

Dude, calling a woman, “Cupcake” is so not the hotness. I don’t care if she is just your jump-off sperm holder. But that’s WAY better than videotaping your sister-in-law undress. For fuck’s sake, what were you thinking? Things like that are what makes marriage such a fading institution. You just can’t trust anybody these days. Plus, people apparently can’t keep secrets either since he allegedly “secretly” taped his sister-in-law but motherfucking Yahoo! Sports knows about it. Some secret, Santa.

It’s no wonder El Idiote Strahan got laundered. He approached his cheating with reckless abandon and if the child support case of Diddy is any indication, New York state doesn’t play when it comes to infidelity and uberfuckery. Of course there is a downside to this whole thing (aside from the serious downside that Strahan will have to face if the actual settlement goes through, he’s appealing)…

…you see, Jean Strahan just might catch a bad one. Michael Strahan is a rich nigga. But he is also about to become a broke nigga. Yes people, he will not be able to live like he used to live once his career ends (like in a year). And you do not mess with a Black man’s money. She’s white too?! Oy vey. I’m getting OJ flashback as we speak, except instead of a white Bronco, it will be a black Escalade with limo tints and a bulletproof fiberglass casing.

Let’s just say, Jean Strahan might need some security because she took his house, his money, and she doesn’t really have to do shit except sit back and laugh at him.

“I ain’t saying he should have killed her, but I understand…” ~ Chris Rock, Bring The Pain, 1996

Word to the wise when purchasing a wife…let the buyer beware.

That bitch might cost you 25 to life one day.

Michael Strahan, this is your life.

I don’t like talking about people’s mommas, but umm…

…Michael Vick’s momma needs a good talking to.

How in Sam Hill do you raise TWO superstar, abnormally, talented fuck-up athletes and not once sit them down and teach them the difference between right and wrong?

And for the record, I don’t think the dogfighting is the most heinous thing one can do. Hell it isn’t even illegal in all states. However, electrocuting, hanging, beating to death, and any other inhumane crime to a dog is why I think that nigga should fry.

Fuckin’ fry him. Throw the book at him and the kitchen sink. Put his ass in jail with Shillinger from Oz. I’m a pet lover to the nth degree. I love animals and I hate when bad things happen to animals. Unless of course said animal is trying to maul me or something, in which case, well…

…they do say all dogs go to heaven.

The jury’s out on grizzly bears who attack kids and little people on camping trips in the woods. Then again, how would you feel if somebody broke off into your crib and tried to eat dinner there like nothing was wrong. You just might go all bear on their asses, now mightn’t you?

Back to the point. Michael and Marcus Vick are fuck-ups. Marcus, though not completely understandable at all, at least wasn’t making the big bucks yet. Then again, there is never any excuse for stomping on the leg of a downed player on the field risking major injury to him. I was going to go into his rap sheet, but fuck it, google his ass or check Wikipedia. He’s had numerous run-ins with the law.

And Michael, oh Michael. Savior of Atlanta and godsend to the NFL. He became the damn face of the NFL so you’d THINK that at some point he might say to himself, “Self, perhaps I should stay on the straight and narrow (and not call myself Ron Mexico anymore) and protect the hundreds of millions of dollars I’m making. You know, that sounds like a good idea!”

His self and himself didn’t have that conversation though. So then we have the infamous Ron Mexico fiasco. Mind you, I actually think that the name Ron Mexico is a good damn name…spreading genital herpes and then signing into treatment clinics under an assumed porn-star alias? Not such a good look.

Speaking of not good looks, there’s that little “water bottle” incident that happened on his way out of Miami. I don’t give a shit if the results came back as negative. Why WOULD you use a bottle specifically used for hiding drugs? He might not have been busted that time, but his ass was definitely using that for other shit at other times. Fuck the justice system, I know guilty when I see it.

All eyez on Vick.

Then we have the now infamous and potential career-ending, jail-directing, money-decreasing, Bad Newz Kennelz dogfighting ring. Like I said, I’m kind of neither here nor there on dogfighting. But when you go torturing fuckin’ animals for sheer amusement, well fuck you. And dumbass…he said he had no knowledge of what was going on there.

Man, too bad they have that whole “state’s witness” problem because once niggas start busting out the gymnastics and flipping on your ass, it’s a rap, chico. One cat already flipped. You think he ISN’T going to take Vick down? Fuck it, I don’t ever want to see any parts of jail.

And NOW they’re trying to get him on some RICO shit (google it). He might lose his livelihood AND all of his money. Which all begs the question…

…what exactly was Vick’s momma telling her sons while they wre growing up. Granted they grew up in the projects and there are definitely lessons that are learned the hard way, but these niggas reek of behaviorial- and bad judgement- issues. It’s like they just don’t realize that, “hey, I’ve come from nothing with all of the potential in the world to make millions for what I can do with a ball…but ya know, the measly thousands I can make dogfighting are something I just have to do for my boys…”

Is Michael Vick being targeted? Yep. And its his own damn fault. Was Marcus Vick being targeted? Nope, he’s just an idiot. But the blame all falls on the parents and what they didn’t teach the kids early on…

…do. not. be. a. dumb. nigga.

They must have been at practice that day.