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!

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