Samuel L. going from Snakes to Nymphos

Wassup, Y'all!

I was all set to post on Boondocks creator Aaron McGruder pulling a Dave Chappelle like no-show when his deadline to return to his daily comic strip passed but I snoozed and lost on that as Karu Daniels over at Black Voices not only jumped on it first, but he added insult to injury by stealing *my* Chappelle angle as well! Karu - man, stop cribbing my notes, homey!

No matter, y'all. My well runs deep so instead I decided to post on that ongoing phenomenon of Samuel L. Jackson never passing on any script that passes his face. Y'all may remember back in May of last year, ol Ty began chirping about about Craig Brewer's film "Hustle and Flow" and the fact that he was working another joint called Black Snake Moan (which I mentioned mainly because I loved that title). Well it appears the Black Snake trailer is now hitting the theaters attached to Samuel L.'s Snakes On A Plane joint so there's no better time to get into the subject matter of Black Snake which involves a southside bluesman (Samuel L.) who's trying to cure a northside nymphomaniac (Christina Ricci). Y'all *know* I'm front row, center with my popcorn when *this* joint hits the screens in February...

Now this joint has Ku Klux Klan rally written all over it. Not to mention boycotts from feminists and other southside actors who can't get any scripts because they all keep disappearing into the black hole known as the Samuel L. Jackson residence. Now IMDB puts the plot mildly by dropping the following:

"A God-fearing bluesman (Jackson) takes to a wild young woman (Ricci) who, as a victim of childhood sexual abuse, looks everywhere for love, never quite finding it."

That's some old boring BS right there - like deciding to paint your bedroom 'almond' or 'beige' or what not. I prefer ropeofsilicon's more provocative plot summary.

"Centers on a white nymphomaniac (Ricci) who must be cured of her disorder by an older black bluesman (Jackson). The title take its name from the Blind Lemon Jefferson song recorded in 1927."

Now that summary will make you sit up and say WTF!? Man - that's a joint I gots to see. It's provocative *and* educational since I was thinking the title had less to do with Blind Lemon Jefferson and more to do with the mythological Alabama Black Snake (yes - I know I'm triflin' and of poor taste, y'all. No need to rub it in...). Unfortunately, I've been unable to track down the trailer online yet (if y'all see one - holler back!). The official website is running a contest for folks to come up with their own trailer for it.... Sounds a little low budget and film schoolish to me, but it's not like Hustle and Flow was a $120 million epic. Anyway, here are a few glossys from the production and a glossy of the actors gettin' their character on.

I expect this joint will get the same level of Internet buzz prior to opening that Snakes did, but hopefully the box office tally for it will be much better (I expect so since Snakes didn't mention the first thing about nymphos and we all know how sex sells). Should be interesting, y'all.

Like I said back in May of last year - I'm *still* looking for my 'Black Snake Moan' T-shirt! That's gonna be a hot seller...

Peace@Least,

Tyrone

Madden NFL Cover - Just Say No

Wassup, Y'all!

Sometimes it just doesn't pay to tempt fate. It's kind of like exclaiming 'Jesus Christ! How could the Eagles let the Giants come back on them like that? I just lost $200!' and your boy politely asking you not to take the Lord's name in vain and then you telling him, 'Please! Did Jesus just lose a $200 bet? He can kiss my a$$ too' just before a wall mounted, 48" plasma screen TV at the sports bar inexplicably breaks free of the wall, falls squarely on your head and kills you. Although not quite as extreme as this but far more ominous than the fabled 'Sports Illustrated Jinx' where misfortune tends to befall althetes and teams featured on the cover, we have the EA Sports Madden NFL Football video game cover curse which has just claimed its most recent victim, Seattle running back, Shaun Alexander...

There's a reason for all those superstition remedies, y'all. Our tribal elders (aka parents, grandparents, folk older than you with more common sense, etc.) were quick to not open umbrellas indoors, walk under ladders, have a black cat cross their paths (unless it was our all time fave HalleKat...) and quick to throw salt over their left shoulder when they spilled it . But NFL athletes? Man, they're so jazzed at the notion of getting their mug on the best selling video game series of all time that they practically beg to get jacked up. Such are the common fates of the Madden NFL 'cover boyz'. A quick look over the past eight cover boyz going back to Barry Sanders in 2000 reveals the following tales from the crypt:

2000 - Barry Sanders - 1st player to have his mug on a Madden cover. Though on his way to becoming the NFL's all-time leading rusher, B-Sand decides to retire and the Lions haven't been the same (clocking in at 0-3 so far this season! Sorry, DLT)...

2001 - Eddie George (who?) - Hurt the team with a key fumble and poor performance against the Ravens (Ray Lewis blew ol boy up several times that game). His team at the time, the Tennesse Titans, was eliminated after being one of the top seeded teams. I believe Eddie has been posted on several milk cartons since then...

2002 - Daute Culpepper - Missed 5 games due to injury and the Vikes missed the playoffs. I'm not even going to get into the 'Freak Boat' incident and the knee injury last year that resulted in him getting dropped by the Vikes altogether and him landing in Miami...

2003 - Marshall Faulk (who?) - Logged his least productive season as a Ram. The Rams missed the playoffs after appearing in the Superbowl the previous season.

2004 - Michael Vick - Vick got hurt, missed 11 games and the Falcons missed the playoffs.

2005 - Ray Lewis - Had his worst season as a pro and the Ravens disintegrated into a non-playoff team.

2006 - Donovan McNabb - After taking the Eagles to the Superbowl the year before, McNabb got hurt, missed 7 games and the Eagles didn't even make the playoffs.

2007 - Shaun Alexander - Out indefinitely with a foot fracture. How will the Seahawks fare without ol boy? Time will tell but I'd put a few insurance bets down 'against' if I was a Seattle fan.

So there's your early Halloween chill y'all courtesy of ol Ty. But don't think that it's going to be enough to scare the next NFL chucklehead off the cover of Madden '08 next year. Those boyz can't get enough of the game. Beckett Spotlight Video Gamer magazine (orginator of the the above actual factuals) asked Shaun how it felt to be on the cover of Madden '07 and he gushed: "It's an honor. It's exciting. Everybody knows that when you're on the cover of Madden you're the "IT" guy, so it's just exciting."

No Shaun - everybody knows that when you're on the cover of Madden you're the *jacked up guy*! I'm expecting both NFL teams and player insurance companies to add a new 'No Madden Cover' clause in all of their future contracts and insurance waivers. It's time to draw the line, y'all. It's no longer just fun and games.

However, since I'm an Eagles fan from way back, I'm putting my nomination in early for either Eli Manning, T.O., or George Bush (for obvious reasons, y'all...) for next year's cover.

Peace@Least,

Tyrone

Northsiders Quickly Joinin' the 'Partay'

Wassup, Y'all!

I know it's a far drop from a glossy of Aishwarya Rai down to a glossy of 'The People's Champ' - Paul Wall, but I got caught by my Rule of Three and was compelled to post my thoughts on how it seems that the southside hip hop culture continues to seep into all corners of the northside world. Exhibit A is our boy Paul Wall. Now this cat is so down that no only is he grilled out and married to a southside shorty, but if you hear him rappin' on the radio, you'd bet the mortgage that ol boy was straight out of Compton (vs. straight out the trailer like Kid Rock...)...

Regular Malone Zone readers will recollect that my 'Rule of Three' means that if I see or hear material on the same topic three times it's automatic post material. In this case I observed this phenomenon 1) at the Jet nightclub in Vegas, 2) on the radio (Paul Wall's 'Oh Girl') and 3) on the 'Net with a couple videos that straight cracked my a$$ up.

Now I remember the old days when whack a$$ Vanilla Ice was cribbin' MC Hammer's mojo just like the Osmond brothers cribbed the Jackson 5's mojo. Even though 'Nilla gave rise to the equally whack Kevin 'K-Fed' Federline (aka that guy Britney Spears is married to who also happened to be previously attached to southside shorty Shar Jackson who's his baby's mama twice over...) other northside homeys (P-Wall, Eminem, Bubba Sparxxx, etc.) have stepped their game up and integrated themselves so tightly into the southside culture that if they got pulled over by the LAPD on Lacieniga Blvd in Cali they'd be on the business end of a taser beatdown just like Rodney King.

When I fell through the nightclub Jet at the Mirage in Vegas, despite the advertisments that made it look like a southside hangout, the demographic in the club was 98% northside but they were thumpin' the old school/new school hip-hop mix and they were lovin' it y'all. L-O-V-I-N' it.

Just last night I was cracking up to two online videos. The first is part of an ad campaign by the alcohol distributor Smirnoff where they're pimpin' (literally) their new iced tea called Smirnoff Raw Tea. They're advertising how 'Its straight up natural tea flava blends nicely with a triple filtered premium malt beverage for an incredibly smooth and refreshing taste'. Now like y'all, I'm thinking Malt liquer, Billy D. Williams, Colt 45 - you know. But Smirnoff flipped the script and is proppin' their new beverage with a northside crew of Prepstas (as in preppy gangstas) in their own music video titled 'Tea Partay''.

Then next thing you know I'm over at EURweb checking out how Weird Al Yankovic has dropped his latest which is a crib on Paul Wall's former partner Chamillionaire's phat track 'Ridin'. The hook to that joint is 'ridin' dirty' and Al Yank put his northside twist on it and mashed up the track 'White and Nerdy'. It's another in a long line of parodies that include Michael Jackson's 'Beat It' (aka 'Eat It') and Coolio's tight 'Gangster Paradise' (aka 'Amish Paradise').

Just more fuel to the fire, y'all. The way I see it it's all good cuz there ain't no party like a southside party cuz a southside party don't stop...unless the LA Po-Po is trailin' your hoopty on Lacienega...

Peace@Least,

Tyrone

Will Smith - You Ain't Slick Homey!

Wassup, Y'all!

See, some brothers think their slick cloak is wrapped around them so tightly that that's all anybody can see. Anybody but me that is, cuz just like shortys are born with built in Homeboy Bullsh#t Detectors (though some become defective because of 'love' and shortys suddenly ignore the beeping...), ol Ty has what he calls the 'Player's Sense', which is the keen ability to anticipate a player's moves well before he executes them. In this case, the player is Will Smith and the move he's trying to execute is so slick even ol Ty almost missed it. Almost....

Now y'all regular Malone Zone readers will recall back in June (See! The Player Sense was tingling way back then, y'all!) I penned a post on Will titled: Big Willie Style - Playin' Both Sides, which outlined that while he was saying all the right things to his boo Jada Pinkett Smith (seen here holding up her end of the new school, Royal Hollywood southside couple), his inner player was trying to get all the tumblers to line up so he hook up with the foine Bollywood actress, Aishwarya Rai (yes y'all - the shorty in the opening glossy - the single Scorpio with the exotic grey-green eyes...).

Now in my previous post you can read all the warm comments Big Willie had for Aishwarya and how he really wants to work with her - going back to his Hitch days. Well now word has reached the basement that slick Willie, along with his business partner and his production company are partnering with UTV , India's leading media and entertainment company, to produce two movies for $30 million. Now officially, Big Willie spins it like this:

"India is one of the most remarkable places on earth and it's motion picture industry always fascinated me."

But look through that slick cloak and you'll really hear:

"India has some of the most remarkable women on earth and I've always wanted to get with its foinest actress, Aishwarya Rai."

(Exhibit B here is former Miss World 2000 and Bollywood actress Priyanka Chopra who, coincidently, just beat out Aishwarya for the unofficial title of the Sexiest Asian Woman of 2006 - who you kiddin', Big Willie?)

So here's my Shorty Public Service Announcement (as I do appreciate the shorty readership and do want to break y'all off a little somethin' somethin' from time to time to compensate for all these homeboy skewed glossys):

If your man takes you to a business function and introduces you to his co-worker, who happens to be the 2nd foinest shorty in the room next to you, and your Player Sense starts tingling - don't ignore it!

If, after questioning your man about how closely they work together, he just rolls his eyes and says 'Girl, please. We work on different projects' and your Player Sense starts humming - don't ignore it!

If on the ride home from the function your man mentions that there's a hot new project coming up that he really wants to be a part of, which will boost his career and the project involves a lot of traveling and Miss '2nd foinest shorty in the room' will also be working on the project and your Player Sense starts jack-hammering - don't ignore it!

Plan to book yourself a seat next to him on those business trips and tell him you really need some 'quality bonding time' with him. Make sure that last tumbler doesn't fall into place (unless, of course, you're tired of being married and are looking for a fresh start with half).

Now since you shortys are all tight and look out for each other, I expect at least one of you to give Jada a call and pass the word. Just keep ol Ty's name out of it since I wouldn't want to be known as a hater...

Peace@Least,

Tyrone

Survivor - This ain't Gilligan's Island

Wassup, Y'all!

As promised I'm back to weigh in on this Survivor: Cook Islands madness unfolding over on CBS. Now I've heard about the premise, read about the premise, listened to all the blog and news outlets jibber-jabber about the premise but I still can't believe the bogus Survivor premise of separating the contestants into four racial groups of five - black, white, Asian and Hispanic (or southside, northside, eastside and westside for you regular Malone Zone readers).

When I was in my biddy-bop days, I used to wonder why no one but northsiders were able to go on Gilligan's fateful three hour tour but now, courtesy of CBS I can root for a whole group of castaways that look just like me...well not *just* like me cuz I look good but you get my drift. Funny thing is, I'm not feeling this separate but equal ruckus...

Exhibit A: The southside tribe's own Gilligan - a brother named Sekou Bunch who now joins the small and embarassed group of contestants known as the "First To Get Yo A$$ Kicked Off The Island" tribe. Hold up - how'd a southside homey who's not OJ get the first boot? That's foul! And you can pretty much hear the Archie Bunker types cackling at their TV sets saying 'Didn't I tell you George Jefferson would be the first to go? You know Wheezy's a$$ is going next!'

Flip the script and pan over to the Bloods in Compton and you'll likely hear "Damn, that ni##a was soft! He went out like a sucker! Least he could have capped a few of those Archie Bunkers before they put his Toby a$$ back on the boat!" You feel me? I'm struggling to see how this will help get us to Gumbo-land, which is where we ought to be heading and away from all this racial back biting and card pulling. What's Gumbo-land? Let ol Ty drop a little knowledge...

I've heard it said more than a few times that America doesn't need to be a 'melting pot', something that produces a bland, homogenous product that looks similar in every way, but it needs to be more like a Gumbo pot where you put in a bunch of unique, tasty ingredients and get a heterogenous concoction that tastes far better than the individual ingredients alone. That's the tasty American train car I'm gettin' on. Everybody brings their own little bit to the table and we just get our eat, drink and be merry on.

For those digging this new Suvivor scene, I recommend another viewing of Spike Lee's Do The Right Thing (and *not* for that Rosie Perez scene, y'all - stop being juvenile! Well...okay...maybe a little bit for that scene...). If I had known CBS was going to pull this ruckus I would have put in a bulk Netflix order for those buster executives who green lit this 'experiment'.

Remember the scene where each ethnic group is dropping every racial name they can think of on each other until cool Samuel 'Love Daddy' Jackson busts in on the radio and tells everyone to 'Chill The Hell Out!' Those are word's ol Ty tries to live by. Be proud of yours but appreciate the others and stop all that crying and card pulling. Y'all saw those Brazil glossys a few posts back! If you're going to be feeling the Latin mami's you got to give respect to the Latin papi's as well. That works all the way around, y'all. One Love - there's plenty of room for everybody...except for Sekou's tired a$$ I guess (Sekou - man, I'm just playin')...

Peace@Least,

Tyrone

The Power of the Pole...

Wassup, Y'all!

Ahhh, it's good to be back in the basement! I'm feeling refreshed and my pockets are a bit lighter due to a quick trip out to Vegas (despite that misleading glossy I posted on Friday...). I hit the clizzub on Friday night and I have to admit, the Vegas nightclubs are 1) off the heezy and 2) environments for some of the best people watching this side of the Greyhound bus station.

As my girl was quick to point out it's also skewed toward the male demographic as the eye candy primping in that joint was, in a word, simply ridiculous (oh snap - my bad. That was two words...). We fell through Jet at the Mirage and what did my wandering eyes see as soon as we got up in there? A platform in the center of the dance floor with four poles encouraging every woman in the joint to drop her inhibitions and work it like the pros four blocks over who are all too skilled at separating homeboys from their cheddar. Did the pole ploy work in Jet? Hmmm - is the Pope in trouble with the Muslim homeys? Read on cousin...

Getting in was straight old school. My boy Cat Daddy hipped me to the crowds that hit these clubs when his butt got left on the curb after trying to get into Pure. Despite his warning, we showed up late like we knew someone and promptly got pointed to the 'General Admission' line to mingle with the common people. So after hearing it would take at least 90 minutes to get in via that route, I asked one of the bouncers how to 'expedite' things and he directed me to a suit wearing brother who was passing out comp tickets for the ladies. I snagged one of those bad boys, took a detour to get a comp ticket for the homeboys (he told me where to go), went to the front of the line and asked the gatekeeper how much it would cost to get to the top of the list. I was expecting to break off a Grant ($50) but he just asked for a Jackson ($20), we shook hands, the rope came up and next thing you know, ol Ty's easing his a$$ into Jet, with a foine shorty, for a single Jackson (get those comp tickets... ). Gotta love capitalism, y'all. I expect Gatekeeper cleared about a cool Grand of tax free cheddar. Not bad for a night's work latching and unlatching a velvet rope.

Like all clubs, women are the attraction and Gatekeeper was letting them in in packs of 10 and 12. No lie - the ratio of women to men in that joint had to be 4:1. Which brings us back to the poles. I've heard it said that when fathers have kids all they hope for is to keep their sons off the crack pipe and their daughters off the stripper pole. Both noteworthy goals but there seems to be something about those poles, free flowing alcohol, raised platforms and girlfriend accomplices that attract women to those poles like gravity.

The center platform featured no fewer than 12 women (normal, everyday shortys) jostling, working the poles and playing to the crowd all night long. They had girlfriends boost them up the pole so they could slide down, they worked the pole in pairs - it was all very entertaining (for my girl - not so much...). Did I mention that Jet also had four single poles in each corner of the room manned by a professional pole worker (all tastefully clothed in lingerie so don't get too excited, homeys...). What's not to like?

Naturally afterward we had to compare notes. That went a little something like this: Me: Wow - that was hot! Her: Wow - those were some stupid women. Me: Stop hatin' - they were just having a good time. Her: Wow - those were some stupid women. Clearly a Mars and Venus thing was going on.

So homeboys - Jet might be a good 'boys weekend' venue. That way you'll satisfy your eye candy sweet tooth *and* avoid those intellectually stimulating conversations with your girl afterward (you know I love you Boo :-) ). Just be sure to have Mr. Jackson with you to smooth out the entry process cuz you're not as important as you think you are.

Peace@Least,

Tyrone

Yo, Where's Ty?

Wassup, Y'all!

My fault for the spotty posting recently! I'm doing the vacation thing and thought I might be able to squeeze in some posting while out in the world, but ol Ty's having a little bit too much fun. Y'all know I *have* to comment on that crazy Survivor: Cook Islands ruckus and I will do so when I get back to the basement (could be earlier if I can find a way to hook up a Red Bull IV in my arm...). I'm checking how one of the homeboys from the southside camp got the boot! I'm also checking how CBS and Survivor copped my southside (black), northside (white), eastside (Asian) and westside (Hispanic) demographic breakdown. It's possible my royalty check is waiting for me back in my mailbox in Chi-town but I'm dubious. More on all that when I hit home on Monday, y'all...

Peace@Least,

Tyrone

Jesse, Al - Where Y'all At on This One?

Wassup, Y'all!



Reverend Al, Jesse and The Family Secret

About three weeks ago (August 24th) I caught the ABC Primetime Special 'Out of Control': AIDS in Black America (also known as the 'southside' here in the Malone Zone) and I've been pondering this posting since then. As y'all know, from time to time I will depart from my normal jibber-jabber to comment on community social issues of substance and this is one that needs a platform (despite the smallness of mine...).

The piece was an investigative study begun by the late ABC World News anchor Peter Jennings that went unfinished until now. It's was meant to mark the 25th anniversary of the first reported AIDS case and the report is actually a huge favor to the southside nation as it presents, in stark terms, how the AIDS crisis isn't just a pandemic on the African continent but, is now one of the most devestating afflictions effecting the southside community here in America. That fact alone is shocking, but you mix that news in with the fact that not one of our self proclaimed southside leaders (Jesse Jackson, Al Sharpton, blah, blah, blah) seems to feel the need to rally behind this issue and you see why ol Ty has to roll out his soapbox and stand on the corner...

First, the actual factuals reported in the piece:

- Blacks make up 13% of the US population, but account for over 50% of all new cases of HIV (eight time the rate of whites).
- Almost 70% of all newly diagnosed HIV-positive women in the US are black women
- Black women are 23 times more likely to be diagnosed with AIDS than white women
- *Heterosexual contact* is the overwhelming method of infection in black America

Blink those over for a few, y'all. 13% of the US population but 50% of all new cases of HIV!? Not sure I remember Jesse Jackson mentioning that the last time he boarded a plane for Africa to highlight the AIDS epidemic there. Matter of fact, I'm not sure I've ever heard Jesse Jackson mention this staggering statistic - Al either for that matter. Now just because I haven't heard them doesn't mean they haven't been talking about it but I'd expect if they were, they'd be getting some coverage (as they do for other political issues) and I haven't seen any to date. In fact, when ABC news commentator Terry Moran put the question to Jesse in the piece, the normally loquacious Jackson seemed befuddled and surprised at the information and (like others questioned in the piece about the AIDS crisis in *Black America*) tried to deflect attention back to the African AIDS crisis instead of staying on point and talking about what's going on here. I was looking for better. Similarly, American celebrities are more caught up in the overseas AIDS action rather than giving equal time to what's going on here at home. Don't get it twisted - I'm not trying to minimize what's going on over in Africa, which truly is a global crisis, but if we can't even take care of our own, how can we expect to take care of others?

So what's driving this epidemic within the southside nation? When you look at it, the ingredients to this deadly cocktail are pretty elementary. First you have a disproportionate number of black men in prison. Sex, as we've seen in Oz and Shawshank and heard about in graphic terms by HBO's 'Tossed Salad Man', is a rampant but unacknowledged recreation in lock up. Consequently, many men who go in non-HIV+ come back out HIV+. And since prisons don't officially admit that sex occurs within their walls, there's no comprehensive national testing, prevention, or treatment programs for inmates... Clearly those officials hail from the 'See No Evil, Hear No Evil, Speak No Evil' School of Careful Observation. For those fools I recommend hooking up some of those Aldo AIDS Awareness tags to pass around... I just dropped a few off for the niecey and nephew over the weekend, y'all.

Mix in the fact that southside homeys tend to sleep with multiple partners more then their non-southside peers and the fact that a subsegment of these homeys are creeping on the down low and any southside sister shorty who has unprotected sex with a new partner is literally playin' Russian Roulette with her life. Here I think a mandatory viewing of TLC's 'Waterfall' video is required for all involved (scene #2, y'all).

Finally fold in a dollop of intravenous drug use with no federal support for a needle exchange program (which has been proven to show that it reduces the spread of HIV/AIDS) and you have what we have now - a wildfire epidemic, in the southside community, in America. As I've said - if we can't take care of home, we damn sure can't take of Africa. Matter of fact, I'm willing to lend that motto for free to Jesse Jackson's American AIDS Initiative...whenever he finds the time to make it a national issue.

Jesse - you got my number, homey. Holler back to a brother. And Al? Homey, let's spend a little less time working that permanent and a little more time ringing the alarm bells for an issue that is truly life or death for the southside community. As for the rest of y'all - do yourself a favor and spend a little time checking out the article and the clips from the broadcast - the life you save may be your own...

Peace@Least,

Tyrone

Mr. Biggs Catches a Real Case...

Wassup, Y'all!

(*My fault on the lack of glossys this morning - technical issues, y'all!*)

Back in November, regular readers here in the Malone Zone will remember I dropped a little knowledge about Ronald Isley's trial for tax evasion and the subsequent guilty verdict. My take was that Ronnie had taken his character persona 'Mr. Biggs' a little too far and apparently U.S. District Judge Dean Pregerson was seeing it my way, y'all, cuz he dropped the hammer on RI to the tune of a 3 year bid (could have been worse as *26* years was on the table...) and orders to repay the IRS $3.1 million in back taxes. Daaaaang - $3.1 mil!! Did ol boy *ever* pay any taxes? Talk about catchin' a case...

Now ease up, y'all. I'm just playin', but it's not like Ronnie's 65 year-old butt is even in prision shape. You at least need to have some moves to dodge Tossed Salad Man so the fact that RI's still recovering from stroke complications and kidney cancer make it even tougher. Don't get it twisted, I am a *little* sympathetic to his *jacked up* situation, but I mean ol boy did enjoy a pretty cushy lifestyle...one he could still be enjoying if he had had the sense his mama gave him to break off a piece for the *real* Tony Soprano Uncle Sam. In fact what's even sadder, since ol boy is 65 he could have been gettin' a little *extra* grip from Big Uncle. Straight up, y'all. I don't know how people think *that* chicken won't come home to roost? Man, I know everybody has a simple math error or two on their forms (which is why mama fills my joints out), but I'd have to back the judge on this one when it came out in court that RI didn't even *file* returns for four years (1997-2001). Seems to me that's the kind of ruckus that might get flagged at the regional IRS office.... That's like walking into the IRS office, dropping your draws, and tellin' the auditors to kiss your black a$$ - pretty poor form, if you ask me.

Of course now one has to wonder how all this is effecting Ronnie's recent bride, Kandy Johnson, (Gold Digger alert! Now I ain't sayin' she's a gold digger, but she ain't messin' with no broke...) a shorty 35 years Mr. Biggs junior. They've only been hitched since last September and I'm thinking that along with the IRS, there were a few other folks who made their wedding a 'fairy tale' that got some of that Christmas coal Ronnie's been handing out. That list likely includes:

- The Beverly Hills Hotel - scene of the garden wedding ceremony
- Harry Winston - provider of the 14-carat white diamond wedding ring (in a platinum setting) and $3 million diamond wreath necklace with matching earrings *and* matching wedding bands
- Jazz great George Duke - reception entertainment
- Kiiiiiiid Capri - reception DJ (member homeboy from Def Comedy Jam??)
- Designer Arming, owner of R-Mine Bridal Couture - $15 K custom gown featuring ivory silk duchess satin w/ 1,500+ hand beaded Swarovski crystals, a sweetheart neckline and a dropped waist ball-gown skirt with bustles cascading down to a cathedral-length train
- Designer Bijan - custom-made tuxedo
- Ol boy's travel agent - whirlwind two-week honeymoon in the south of France
- South of France

I also imagine his daily fare is going to be a little less sparse than the crab cakes, shrimp, lamb chops and sushi appetizers, steak, chicken and baked salmon entrees along with spinach salad with walnuts and sliced pears (although salads with nuts are likely to be plentiful...)

My boy DLT thinks this is all bad karma returning to Mr. Biggs for his drop kicking of Ahn-gela Winbush for Kandy girl. Could well be...So there it is, y'all. Ronnie Isley perpetrating like Al Capone ends up just like Big Al - doing a bid in the big house on the same damn charges - tax evasion. That's what we literary types refer to as 'irony'. But all's not dark and gloomy, y'all. There is a ray of sunshine peepin' through the clouds. Isley and R. Kelly will be able to continue their collaborations just as soon as Kells' trial is wrapped up (assuming it ever starts). With Tossed Salad Man on the prowl, that situation would give a whole new meaning to the phrase 'Chocolate Factory'....

Peace@Least,

Tyrone

B'ed The Hell Out!

Wassup, Y'all!

Now I don't know about you, but me? Man, I'm B'ed (Beyonce'ed) the hell out with this wall to wall coverage out in front of her next CD drop date. Dang - DROP that bad boy already and give some cover space, air time, face time, oxygen to somebody else! Can't say that chica doesn't have a massive PR machine churning 24/7 but come on now - last I heard we were *still* in a war with Iraq, Iran's still trying to get the bomb, Lebanon is still on the canvas looking for its mouthpiece, Janet *still* hasn't talked to Justin since the whole Superbowl unveiling *and* she still hasn't adequately explained (despite my repeated, unanswered calls to her crib) just how her booty has expanded to approached mini-Beyonce proportions...

The first thing I want to draw your attention to is that opening glossy and its companion right here. House of Dereon? How 'bout House of Brown Skinned Maid Service? How 'bout dat? Let me quit playin'. Now correct me if I'm wrong, but how many people have a major advertising campaign for their fashion house that features their mama perpetrating like Jerome Benton jocking Morris Day in Purple Rain? I expect the next ad to have Mama Tina holding up a mirror while B fluffs her extensions. Come on now! That's tacky. At least give Mama Tina some equal camera time. Then again...

I had to laugh at the recent dust up that happened at the "Home of The Dust Ups" NYC radio station Hot 97 where air personality Miss Jones (clearly as fed up with the Beyonce Express as my a$$ is - B - I know you're sweet and all but even ol Ty knows you can't eat 1,200 Now And Laters without gettin' *sick*, homegirl...and I love those joints!) dropped an *old school crackback* on Mama Tina. Apparently MJ is a Knowles family hater from way back and, just like at Thanksgiving when you try to keep your new girl away from your crazy Aunt who's never afraid to speak her mind ('Girl, did you ever think about gettin' braces for those teeth?'), the Hot 97 suits knew they needed to keep MJ, Beyonce and Mama Tina in neutral corners so they scheduled MJ to be in the studio when B and Mama Tina weren't and vice versa. Long story short, a scheduling snafu found them both in the hallway squaring off. Uh oh...

Seems Mama Tina popped off a weak:

"I just wanna thank you for talking about me and my daughter everyday while you’re on the air. It just boosts her ratings."

referring to MJ's daily Beyonce disses on the air. To which MJ shot back:

"Actually you should thank M.A.C. makeup for hiding all that oldness you have on your face. Now you look like the joker."

Oh no she di'int!! Check out this final glossy y'all and you be the judge on that one. Anyway, needless to say the Hot 97 suits weren't too happy about MJ's diss and sat her down for a two week timeout. Two weeks for *that* diss seems more than worth it. Matter of fact it sounds like even the alligator posing on B's Ring The Alarm cover art had his fill of ol girl too (though this account could be bogus)...

Anyway - here are the actual factuals, y'all. For you frantic few who are fiending for B'Day - ol girl's upcoming CD, you can pull out your laptops, sit in Starbucks and watch the countdown timer click down to zero on her fan website ForeverBeyonce.com (Your #1 Source For All Things Beyonce - see what I'm sayin', y'all?)!!

And for the non-frantic few?? I recommend hittin' your knees when that clock strikes zero and pray that it will all be over soon (hater that I am)...

Peace@Least,

Tyrone