Here's how I see it. There are stupid brothers - Plaxico, Mike Vick, T.I., Boy King Kwame, blada, blada, blada - and then there's OJ. Two distinct events occurred on Friday after Judge Jackie 'I Don't Even Play' Glass dropped her sentence of 9-33 years in prison - northsiders, who believed they'd been short-changed after No-J's double murder trial, rejoiced that justice had finally been served and southsiders collectively scratched their heads at how one brother could be so damn stupid.
I've commented before on the night and day northside/southside reaction to No-J's double murder acquittal. It wasn't that we didn't think homey was guilty. No. Rather that inappropriately joyous reaction, in my opinion, resulted from the sudden, collective realization that even southside money could buy justice in the court system. We finally had our own southside Claus Von Bulow. Yeah - I know that's triflin' but when you've been beat down by the justice system for so long you tend to take 'em where you can get 'em...
So despite losing a multi-million dollar civil suit related to the double murders, becomin' a walking parriah and knowin' that Johnny Cochran wouldn't be comin' back from the great beyond just in case his a$$ needed savin' again, brother No-J decides that it would be a good idea to get a couple homeys and some guns and roll up into a Vegas hotel room to 'get his $hit back'. $hit that clearly must have been worth 9-33 years of his life. That's what ol Ty calls some 'Really 'Good $hit', y'all. Maybe he really believed that 'What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas' jibber-jabber. Or maybe he was just stupid.
I was down at Winky's Corner Store on Saturday - out front chewin' down some fruity Starburst and one of the bad neighborhood kidz named Romello asked me why I thought No-J was so stupid. 'After all', he said, 'you just can't let another homey steal your $hit without some consequences and repercussions'. I said, 'Look here Romello. No-J was a brother who liked to play with matches. Say one day he decides to go into a gasoline factory and spark off a few. Next thing he knows the factory catches fire, he's caught in a corner and the main gas tank is about to blow. He's a gonner for sure until a fireman named Johnny Cochran swings in, scoops him up and carries him up a rope and through a skylight to safety just before the whole factory blows sky high. Now if the very next day, No-J goes back into another gasoline factory and starts sparkin' off some more matches, what would you call him?'
Romelo thought about that for a few and finally said, 'Stupid'. 'Exactly', I said givin' him a dap. 'Now you're feelin' me.' Lil homey smiled and rolled out and I reached for the rest of my Starbursts only to find that his little a$$ had boosted them right out of my pocket. For a minute I thought about getting a couple of homeys together and some guns and rollin' up on his backyard treehouse to 'get my $hit back' but I ultimately ended up back in mama's basement typin' this post.
Mama Malone didn't raise no dummies, y'all...unlike Mama Simpson.