Thursday, July 29, 2004

Ride That Donkey!

Wassup Y'all!

File this under the 'You snooze, you lose' column. I missed Al Sharpton's speech Wednesday night, y'all! I was across the street from the Fleet getting my eat on and figured since Reverend Al had to submit his speech ahead of time, the convention censors would have cut out the best parts. The messed up part is they whittled Reverend Al's remarks to six minutes and put him on the fringe of prime time. Now I've followed Reverend Al through the primary and debates and should have known he had something up his sleeve... Old boy got up on stage and stayed up there for nearly twenty minutes doing his thing and preaching off the cuff. For those dummies like me, you can catch some of the highlights of his speech at He's got some gems in there , but what else is new with the Reverend? Go on homey, preach! They got Al Gore, Clinton and Barack videos up there too, y'all. Al and Bill have some 'Catch A Rising Star' comedy in their cuts (unfortunately no video rump shakers but you can't have it all) and Barack is just smooth as butter baby.

I did catch Kerry and he was good but he, sir is no Barack Obama (and GW is no Kerry). Well the convention is over but the after parties are just cranking up tonight, y'all. I just wish my boy Ricky Williams was here so he could tighten me up with some of that old style, dred lock cheeby. I guess we'll have to hook up when he gets his retirement crib all settled. Matter o fact, once we run through all that endo we need to hook up with those Manning boys now that Lil E inked his contract and took delivery of a 20 mil signing bonus. That's tall cheddar to you and me, y'all. Tall chedder.

I'm going to miss ol Beantown when I hop into the hoopty tomorrow for the ride back to Chi-town. Four more weeks and it's Times Square and Battery Park, baby as the hoopty glides down to NYC where I can get denied admission to the Republican convention, but in the city that never sleeps - who cares?

Alright I'm out y'all - go support Denzel tomorrow when The Manchurian Candidate drops. To paraphrase my boy Ted Koppel -- My review, in a minute.



Tuesday, July 27, 2004

If A Bush Falls on the Trail...

Wassup, y'all.

Yaaawn! Sorry, I would have posted last night, but Billy C.'s after party was bumpin' and ol' Tyrone didn't want to be boorish and bounce too early. The democratic honeys were wall to wall up in Clinton's suite y'all and Mr. Bill was obviously juiced at his prime time keynote Monday night...

Man, I'm just nostalgic. They need to give brother Bill another twelve more years. That's a brother who knows how to work a crowd and a room. Kind makes that online cartoon This Land ring even more true when you compare the current candidates to brother Bill. *sigh*.

The young brother Barack Obama took it deep tonight, y'all. I'm going to have to see if I can get on his Senate staff cuz clearly that brother is going places. He kinda had that Billy C. swagger going on. If he's the new face of the Democratic Party - shoot - sign me up now.

Now getting back to the subject of this blog - what's up with Boy George and mountain bikes? The boys from Winky's text messaged me that he fell off his mountain bike again rolling around out in Crawford. Not that I'm counting, but I think that's two mountain bike spills and one Segway tumble to date. For a homey trying to inherit the mantle of Reagan, he seems like he's on track to inherit the hospital bills of Gerald Ford, American's last, great uncoordinated President. Now I'm sure many of you are wondering why I'm so concerned about GW's equilibrium. We'll until November, the man who's one mountain bike spill away from the Presidency is still Tricky Dick Cheney and I much prefer him where he is - in his undisclosed location.

Gotta bounce - I need to ease up into Barack's after party before the main eats get got. I'll be back on the wire in a minute.



Sunday, July 25, 2004

Cheese, Jesse, Cheese

Wassup, y'all!

As previously mentioned, I made my Starbuck's run (those Light Caramel Frappachinos are on time! - The barrista - a fine latin honey - tells me you can cancel out the benefits of it being 'light' by ordering both the whipped cream and caramel - which is how old Tyrone takes his). I pick up a copy of the Saturday NY Times and who do I see on Page 1, above the fold, cheesing next to GW but our boy Jesse Jackson. Now color me confused... First of all, how does a brother get one of those virtual jobs like Jesse? Old Tyrone's been checking the job listings for a long time now and not once have I seen a job description that matches what Jesse does. Based on what I've seen it should go a little something like this:

"Wanted: A man about town able to travel at a moment's notice. Must be able to attend all black functions of note. We're looking for a self-motivated, raconteur able to drop a rap without biting your rhymes and able to appear on news talk shows as the de facto face and voice of black America. Verifiable connection to the civil rights struggle and Martin Luther King, Jr. desirable but not required."

I can't hate on Jesse too much as I hear Reverend Al was in attendance as well. I hear he popped off a few good one liners (Reverend Al need to be added to next edition of the Kings of Comedy - he's got hot material!). Anyway, I couldn't help but see this Urban League embrace of GW as yet another divisive move - US & Europe, Haves & Have Nots, NAACP & Urban League. Not that this tactic is all bad. Big sisters and spandex could use a little more dividing (Mo'nique: Girl I'm not hatin' - I'm just sayin'!) So could Michael Jackson and little kids (Michael: Man, I'm not hatin' - I'm just sayin'!). So could R Kelly and ... well that's another story for another day.

Y'all cats will be glad to hear I'm corresponding to you from the hoopty from just outside the Fleet Center in Boston. I finally got the satellite broadband hook up in the hoopty! On the downside, Mama found out and asked for a bump in the basement rent, but it's all good. I put the service in her name :-)

Somehow my blogging credentials didn't arrive in the mail in time so I'm sure they'll be there waiting for me in the press room. Man, I can't wait to hang out with Ed Gordon and the BET crew. Should be hot y'all. Our boy Billy C is doing the opening address so you know there'll be some hotties out on the floor looking to be consoled once Hilliary shows up. That's a job description I can step up to. Just doin' my part,
just doin my part.

I'll holler at y'all in a minute - I'm out!



P.S. Yo New York - what's up the the Sunday NY Times costing five bones?? Is y'all's news a little more lucrative that Chicago's? Ever think about the Currency Exchange business? How's a brother supposed to get a Light Frappachio and a Rice Crispy Treat if I have to shell out another five bones? Times are tight. I'm still waiting for the benefits of GW's tax cut to trickle down to me.

P.S.S. That pitiful, piercing scream you probably heard (regardless of where you were in the country) was Eric Benet during his screening of Catwoman. Don't cry now, dummy!

Friday, July 23, 2004

Halle Shakes it like a Polaroid Picture

Wasssup y'all. I'm a little cricked up from camping out in the hoopty all night to be first in line for the Catwoman matinee today. The critics (so called professional movie watchers) were doing a lot of hating (mostly on the director 'Rice' Pitof). Even my boys at couldn't save it from a dreaded tomato splat but if you're a fan of Halle's femine wiles, this movie is off the heazzy, fo shezzy. Woooo - old girl came correct!... From the 'Daaaaaaaaamn' outfit (that's right homeys - a 9 'a' outfit. Note that's 9 out of a possible 10 'a's. A 10 'a' Damn fashion rating is reserved exclusively for Tyra in any Victoria's Secret photo shoot), to a hot little strut that shot the fizz right out my Rockstar Energy Drink that I snuck in. Victoria's Secret models all over the world will be going to the Monday morning break down to copy that bad boy ('cept my girl Tyra who can already hang with the big dogs..cats).

I guess the critics were looking for a serious period piece like Dodge Ball. All I know is there bet not be a brother among them hatin' on the movie or we'll have to reclaim your Plain Bellied Sneetch credentials and let you roll with the Star Bellied Sneetches (cuz we know the brothers and sisters have no stars upon thars). That said, the boys at Winky's corner store were unanimous about one last thing (Halle goes without question) - Sharon Stone can still get it. Old girl's still got the basic instinct...Some women are like that -- Tina, Lena - not to say Sharon's in that age bracket but I have a feeling when she does get there - she can still get it.

I leave y'all with one glaring error the bruhs pointed out in the movie (so I don't spoil it for folks who haven't seen it - turn your eyes away from the screen while you read...). 'Rice' Pitof - homey you know there ain't a damn way in hell that Halle could ever squeeze all that bodunkadunk through those jail cell bars. That's like asking Beyonce to back it on up through the eye of a needle - natural physics preclude such nonsense. We all know sisters roll with enhanced safety equipment (and the world is a better place for it). The bruhs, however, did appreciate Rice's cinematic vision with superb camera shots that accentuated both Berry and Stone badunkadunk. Truly revolutionary film making.

All right I'm out. I'm headed over to Starbuck's to perpetrate and read the NY Times to see what new shenanigans GW has gotten himself into today. More on his friendly chat with the Urban League in a minute...



Thursday, July 22, 2004

Let's Get This Party Started

Wasssup, y'all. I'm Tyrone Malone - The Urban Eye That Will Tell You Why. Welcome to my inaugural column. For the brothers down at Winky's corner store on 95th and Ashland, 'inaugural' is how saditty brothers say first. I aim to keep my people informed as events unfold and give you my uniquely honed urban perspective on current events...

For example, when the mainstream press is reporting on GW's position on environmental issues and Kerry's position on national defense, I'll say "So? I hear both those cats are pulling in over eight figures a year. How about they scale back on those catty political ads and put on a few late night infomercials to show the brothers and sisters how to get what they got?"

See? It's all about perspective. You'll get that from me. Nothing but the straight skinny. So dip a toe in, home slice. The water's fine. Sisters - you may want to braid it up or snap on a bathing cap before you take the plunge, but don't be scurred. Your doo will survive.

In the coming weeks I plan to glide the hoopty up the east coast to catch the conventions in Beantown and my main spot NYC and report from the floor. Okay, well not actually the floor but I'll have a good vantage point from the television in my hoopty's steering wheel. I'm rolling on 24's y'all with them spinners so I'll be styling outside the Fleet Center and Madison Square.

We still got a few to go until the J Squared crew hits Boston, so tomorrow I'll be hanging at Winky's checking the reaction to National Cat Day. That's right y'all - Catwoman starring Halle "I'll never marry" Berry is opening at a theater near you. I'm front row and center tomorrow y'all so don't be blowing up the celly-cell until after the 11:30 matinee.

'Til then - Peace@Least