R.I.P...Sike!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Boooooo......booooooo.

Boooo nigga boooooooooo!!! We are the ghosts of Ted Kennedy and DJ Am!!!

I know upon hearing that, a lot of you mutherfu**as are like "who?" This is OK. What is not OK, however, is putting a R.I.P note up on Facebook knowing gosh darn well you couldnt pick these 2 niggas out of a 3 person crowd! Yep. I'm talking to you....random hood nigga with Internet access!!!

Lmao. Normally I don't do this but ummm... Ima just keep this shit going. Might as well. I've already began by talking about people who've died less than a week ago as if that shit was OK. Oh well... I've done worse. Either way, them dudes are dead... What are they gonna do? Haunt me?

Call me crazy, an asshole or an insensitive waste of god given talent, but I cannot see myself wasting time eulogizing someone I don't know just because it's the trendy thing to do. Go ahead get mad. You must be one of those facebook posers or b**ches who buy shit cause Oprah says so. I don't give a f**k about that Aunt Tom heiffer's book club... She don't care about regular black people anyway... Just Africans. What? Do I gotta run around with flies on me just to get some sympathy, tax write off money? Sorry. No offense to the spearchuckers with bones in their noses. LOL. Chill out, chill out. I'm just playin'. I know a lot of Africans... They call me Show Rockychuku.

Nevertheless, I digress.

Let's say DJ AM was here. Would u recognize him or know any of his songs? Ah ha! Thought so. He'd probably be pissed you didn't know who his pseudo famous ass was and cuss you out.

DJ AM: fuck out my face dumb ni*ger!

You: Im sorry. Everyone said it'd be cool to mention you. Facebook showed me the way.

DJ Am: Your guiding light should be the Almighty Lord or his foot soldier Adolf Hitler...not a social networking site.

Ted Kennedy: Where the hoes at?

You: Are you Hue heifner?

Ted Kennedy: No you dumb ass coon.

I'm just kidding. I don't know if DJ AM or Ted Kennedy were racist and they most likely werent. Point of the story is, WE KNOW NOTHING ABOUT THEM!!!

Would you give them your social security number or leave them alone with an ounce of cocaine and your teenage daughters? I wouldn't. More importantly, if their funerals had tickets to gain entry , would u get one? Haha. You're a famous dead nigga groupie. LOL.

I guess the same case could be made against the MJ R.I.P's. Nahhh, I'm biased. He was the King of Pop and no real black person will speak ill of him. Besides, I'd leave him in a room with my teenage daughter and a few lines of that yola. No questions asked. If I had a teenage boy however ( no homo) I may be forced to reconsider. LOL. Hide the 8ball and the transformer undies! Mike's coming over! LOL. R.I.P.

Now that everyones briefs and boy shorts are in a bunch, I'm going to show you how to handle the subject of death with some dignity. If you didn't care about the person while they were alive, please refrain from the postumous dick riding. If you did give a rats ass about them, upload some important info about them that others should know, followed by a short "your music will be missed" or something to that effect.

When I die, however, disregard everything which was just said and do the following.

Fellas send a mass email or post that says "Showrocka: He kept it 100."

Ladies, I want y'all to do something different. Send a message that says: "Showrocka I.W.G.H.A (I woulda gave him head if he was alive). LOL

The end. Sike. I faked my own death... U said it, now Gimmie some head. Lmao.

Live, love, thoughtful eulogies

Show


-- Post From My iPhone

Crazy Beautiful

I almost started this post by asking "have you ever done something even though you knew you had no business doing it?" I quickly thought better of it, as I'm sure everyone has done something and known it would lead to a cold oversized portion of regret soup. Fuck it, we all make mistakes... Funny thing is, many of us make the same mistakes over and over again. Ah well, no harm no foul. That is, unil u meet a craaaaaaazy bitch. All mysoginy aside, y'all bitches be buggin (obligatory ebonical interjection). LOL.

I can hear it now... Niggas gettin all hype getting ready to vent about their crazy ex girlfriends and baby mamas. Skerrrrrrt (Jamie Foxx reference), hand to the face. Hold up... Wait a minute ( DJ Kool 'let me clear my throat voice'). Y'all niggas ain't excused for marinating your loins in the vaginal ambrosia of crazy hoe juice. If you've been dealing with (aka dating) a crazy bitch long enough for her to know where u live.... Well, you should be more selective about your one night stands... You filthy Mcnasty!!! You probably ain't even use a rubber. Ewww. Personal question. Did you eat her butt? LOL.

All digressing aside, the moral of my progressive shit talking is as follows. Give a man a fish , he'll eat for a day...Give a crazy bitch a fish, she'll trade it for a razor, cut your balls off and floss her teeth with your nutsack hairs while masturbating over your festering corpse. Wait... That wasn't the moral at all...I've just been listening to too much Rob Zombie and Necro. Don't judge me. Moral is, give a crazy bitch a reason to act crazy and ITS YOUR FAULT!!!

That being said, shouts to all the crazy baby mamas out there! Shouts to all the crazy baby daddies..and most imporantly, shouts to the crazy girls with big titties!


Cause I'm crazy too... But not like shit in the bed and eat it crazy. LOL. I'm way too vulgar today. Eh... Fuck it.

Ok, you know it's Saturday and I'd rather be out Henny thuggin (aka getting more blog material), so I'm gonna leave you with some profound words of thug wisdom. Sike! Ima talk some more shit.

Most bitches hate me because a.) I constantly use the b word, b.) I highlight their insecurities and place a metaphorical blacklight on the semen covered catcher of penile projectiles they call 'faces', and c.) I let everybody know they're craaaaaaazy! (sidenote, if u aren't a bitch, you can't get mad at the fact I called them walking jizz rags. LOL)

All joking aside, many chickenheads can't handle this simple fact and immediately become defensive. Being crazy isn't a bad thing ( like not giving head or asking guys to buy you drinks) , but rather a natural fact of life. Men are from Mars and women are from Venus. There is no small coincidence that this rhymes with penis... But this is a different story for a different day. What the planitary reference was getting at is the fact that men and women are different animals. Learning to navigate the seas of crazy bitch hormones is a difficult task, but hey.. If u don't do it, you don't get any!

Don't be maaaaaad. It's the truth. We love y'all, because after all.... You are crazy beautiful. Muah. No homo.

Live, love bitches (sorry for cussin )

Show


-- Post From My iPhone

Hoodrat Report Card Part 2

What up family? I'm kinda running late for work right now, but f**k it...All's fair in love and prose. I guess I really gotta quit the weekday Yackery (drinking) if I want to be successful in life. Yea right.



Anyways, there was no O.J. the Juiceman Thuggin' going on for me last night as I missed the concert. Something about the fact that the two supposedly hottest rappers in the game (he and Gucci Mayne) are named after a woman's bag and America's favorite breakfast drink made me think....Isn't there a better way I can spend my 35 dollars? That being said I was productive (at least at doing productive nig*a shit), and successfully managed to finally cop a living room set (that costs less than my bracelet....smh), get drunk and cook dinner for Shanga and Lefleur. No homo. Paella was off the chain.



What's the point of your fuck*ing boring ass life story, might you ask? Well, its funny you should mention that chump. It was while eating dinner, that Shanga, Lefleur and I began recanting more hoodrat stories for that ass!! That's right...we're in the Hood like our big homie Buttahman (Shout outs to him, everybody in the V.I, and his new show Hood Fab on MTV2). And everybody knows what you find in the hood...Hoodrats. Oww Owwwww.



Showrocka Presents: Hoodrat Report Card Part 2.



Now yesterday I god a funny ass Gmail from a blog reader that I just had to chronicle for yall. I swear this is all true and my homie "The Pessimist" can verify. Trust me, you can trust him. he's a Pessimist!



Dining Etiquette



As the Pessimist and his wingman S.Rogen leave their homecoming party, tipsy off that Cruzan and Brugal, they decide to give in to their liquor induced hunger and libido driven instincts. Thats right niggas and niggettes, they committed the cardinal sin of taking some hoodrats out to eat. SMH (Shaking my head.) Lord Forgive them, for they know not what they do. LOL.



The Pessimist: This food looks good. I know what I'm getting.



S.Rogen: Vibes, Vibes. It's about to go down.



Waiter: Do you ladies and gentleman know what you'll be having tonight? What you like something to start?



The Pessimist: I think we're just gonna order our entrees. I'll have the Mahi Mahi with mixed vegetables.



S.Rogen: I'll have the sirloin steak with potatoes please.



Waiter: And what would you ladies like for your main course?



Hoodrats: Oooooh yea. We will both have the Shrimp cocktail.



The Pessimist: "are you sure you don't want an entree?"[verbatim]



Hoodrats: "Shrimp sounds good." [Verbatim]



Here's how the rest of the story goes according to the pessimist:



"After beings served they ate their 3 shrimp in two minutes, and then stared at my fish until i finally gave in and passed my date the damn plate. They complained for a full hour about the size of their dinner portion, but I didn't have the heart to enlighten them as to what appetizers were all about."



Hoodrat Grade: D- (This is some of the dumbest hoodrat shit I've ever heard, which is perhaps the reason its so damn funny. Who thinks shrimp cocktail isn't an appetizer! Have you never eaten in an establishment without the prefix "Mc" or suffix "King"? Its OK, you can laugh. It's funny. Don't front people, I know I'm your guilty hood pleasure...Call me Showrocka aka Buffets to fat bitches.)



This one here is a bit shorter but nonetheless funny, and once again, involves the homie Buck Dinero. After meeting up with some hoe and text messaging back and forth she is down to come visit him for dinner, drinks and some late night bedroom thuggin (shouts to William H. for the "Thuggin" vernacular which I've been killing lately.) Enter the restaurant....and.....action!



Buck Dinero: I think I'll have the salmon with rice pilaf please...and a Blue Moon.



Hoodrat: And I'll have the Maine, Twin Split Lobster tails.



Buck Dinero: No the hell she wont!!



Waiter (Dumbfounded and shocked): Ummmmmm. I'll give you guys a minute and come back.



Hoodrat Grade: C-.( Ladies, even if you do plan on giving up the ass please don't order lobster on the first date. It's extremely hoodrat-ish. Yes, I'm aware Buck Dinero's response was even more hood, but it was hilarious so he gets a pass. Sorry. Double standard (this time...)



I know some of yall are saying damn, if that's a C- and the previous offense was a D-, then what the f**k is an F? I will explain...firsthand.



Upon going to an all you can eat buffet, which is undeniably hood in and of itself, I find myself stuffed after about plate # 2 and a half. At this time, I see my older, female cousin looking around as if someones looking for her.



Show: What are you looking for?



Cuzin T: Where's the manager?



Show: in the back.



Cuzin T: Cool. Ill be right back. I asked because they hate when you get the sccccrimps (shrimp.)



At this point I have now idea what type of hogwash Tom-thievery she is planning until she returns with a plate FULL of fried shrimp. She then proceeds to open up her purse, which is empty, but LINED WITH A GIANT ZIPLOCK BAG!!! Yes, Nigga. She dumped the whole plate in her purse and went for seconds!



Hoodrat Grade: F- and F**k anyone who says there's no such thing as an F-. ( F level hoodrat-dom is achieved when no matter how funny the act is, the overall embarrassment factor trumps the hilarity. This is a perfect example of such case. )



I know, I know...making fun of the hoodrat misfortunes of others is so juvenile, but it's my guilty pleasure. And If you don't like it (catch phrase time) you can swallow an entire tube of medical waste from Planned Parenthood. EWWWWWWW. OK, maybe that was taking it too far. Whatever. I'm almost late for work and have some Fantasy Football shit to do. I'll holla....Bitchesssssssssssss.



Live, Love, Other Peoples Hoodrat Misfortunes.



Show

The Hoodrat Reportcard

Show--Show--Show--Show--torious!!!! (He is....he is - Diddy voice) Show-torious! (Uh, uh, Take that).


Yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa boi. The Blog Monster is back from hiatus, and I've even got some new theme music. I know yall like it, and if not...go sniff the sweaty nut sack of Usain Bolt after he runs the 200 (no homo), you bumpy faced hater who your mom should've aborted (or swallowed.) LOL.


Now that all the nicities have been taken care of, we can get down to some serious blogging business.



Showrocka Presents...The Hoodrat Report Card



Now I know each and every one of you...male or female...have dealt with someone who had some indubitably hood tendencies. Smoking Newports and black and Milds = Hood tendencies. Putting hot sauce on everything and pouring water in the ketchup to make it last longer = hood tendencies. This being said, hood tendencies ARE OK. Hoodrat tendencies, however, identify you as one of the basest most vile street urchins of the Chickenhead spectrum.









That's right ladies and gentleman, Hoodrats are the worst type of chickenheads...they are the ones who embarrass the shit out of your ass despite the fact that they seemingly have no shame. They pop gum, chew loud, use words like "dookie" (which is no OK unless referring to a dookie rope chain) and spew a plethora of other unintelligent hogwash from the lip glossed semen spigots they call mouths.


Examples to follow.



Fine Dining:


My homie Buck-Dinero meets a girl for the first time (on some blind date shit) and trys to put the Trey Songs-Issac Hayes smooth ni**a mack on.



Buck Dinero: Yea you know, we can go out to a fancy restaurant where it's not to loud so we can eat like kings and get to know each other a little. What's you favorite restaurant?


Hoodrat: Oooooh. You know that Pizza Restaurant on Whalley av? Their pizza is Blazin'.


Hoodrat Grade: C- (you are not the worst type of the worst type of Chicken head, but citing a hood pizza joint as your favorite fancy restaurant gains you "Below Average" Hoodrat Status.)




Ordering Out:


Now I'm an asshole and sometimes like to pronounce the word Bordeaux as Boar-Ducks just for comedic value around friends, but this type of behavior becomes a problem when the person pronuncing the word thinks they are doing so correctly. Dre-Drizzle, an associate of mine, was witness to some hoodrat chickenhead tomfoolery as he brought a girl out to dinner (at a bowling alley..LOL) and she displayed this exact type of hoodrant pronunciation predicament.


Drizzle: What do you want to order? Should we start with some appetizers?


Hoodrat: Oooooh. I want some of those Ja-Lop-a-no poppers.


Hoodrat Grade: D+ (Yes. She pronounced jalepeno by saying Ja-Lap-A-No. This is as not as bad as saying Tar-jay {Target} and identifying yourself as a bougie chickenhead, but it is still godawfully Hoodrat-ish nonetheless.)


Lefleur, another victim of taking a hood rat out to eat, was able to avoid the pronunciation problem alltogether. The problem with this method, however, is that the general rule of thumb which states that "if a Hoodrat can pronounce it correctly, its probably mega-hood" always applies. See below.


Lefleur: I'll have a Blue Moon 24 ounce please.

Waiter: And for the Lady?

Hoodrat: Ummmmm. What's the name of that black beer I like?


Waiter & Lefleur: Guiness?

Hoodrat: No, No. Not that. Hold on on right quick. (Gets on Phone)

Lefleur: Did you find out?

Hoodrat: Yea, yea. Can I get a Molson XXX?





Hoodrat Grade: D (Molson Triple X is a malt liquor, and while ordering St. Ides or Olde English would have secured her a lower grade, this is pretty fuckin bad. Shame on you girl!)

Relationships:

I cannot tell you how many times I've heard this conversation. Actually, it's gotten to the point where I swear I saw this discourse back in forth on someones facebook wall. SMH (Shaking my Head. )

Potiental Hoodrat: My eye is swollen

Hoodrat Friend: Hope u hit him back.

Potiental Hoodrat now Turned Definite Hoodrat: Hell yeah. I'll fight him like a nig*a.



Hoodrat Grade: D- (Domestic violence damn sure isn't cool, and is never acceptible, even if your girl is bigger than you. Ladies acting like this shit is cute or "just business as usual" are the reason that a lot of non-hoodrat bi**ches are out getting their asses whooped!! Your ex boyfriends are running around thinking the Ike turner Treatment is OK! It's Not! If this class were pass fail...you'd fail!!




In moving to the next relationship story, I'm gonna take it to the bing...Jail...the slammer...the clink...the Bighouse. I know a few C.O.'s (correctional officers) and ladies, don't worry, you are not being 100% put on blast cause jail ni**as don't get the internet. This being said, I can verify that many-a-babymomma-chickenhead has been seen entering Big Cheshire (a jail where everybodyyyyyyy from the hood is locked up) with sweatpants, a baggy shirt and doobie wrapped in a headscarf. Are they doing this because they're filthy chickenheads who like to look disheveled? Nope. Because they're trying to sneak things into the jail via their baggy clothes? Nope. They do it just to show their man they are holding him down on th outside, saving the na-na and sexy shit for when he finishes his bid. Aww how sweet.


C.O. - Jones : Aight miss. See yall next week when you come back to visit this deadbeat ni**a.


Hoodrat: Stop playin, that aint funny. Ill see you next time though.


15 minutes elapse and the girl and her 2 chickenhead friends (also visiting their Bf's) are still inside the car.


C.O - Jones: What the fu*k is going on over there. (Walks toward car.)


Hoodrats (plural): What you trying to take a peek? God...we about to leave.


C.O. - Jones : Did yall really just change. Really? Mini-skirts, fresh hair-do's and stripper heels?


Hoodrats: Don't play yourself ni**a these are from DSW...these aint no payless heels.


C.O - Jones: you know yall aint right.


Hoodrats: Sheeeeit. We goin to the club. Just cause them ni**as gotta be stuck in jail on a saturday nite. We're still young. Holla.


Hoodrat Grade: F (I don't know why this seems so wrong, but it does. Its one thing to keep it 100 with a dude in jail and say "look. I'll take care of the kids, send you money and hold you down....but ni**a, I'm gonna be going out!", but its a completely different thing to pull some sh*t like this. Buyin new outfits with his leftover drug money. SMH (Shaking my Head.)


Honorable Mentions (also known as 'Incompletes') on the Hoodrat report card go out to anyone who ever, when asked "what flavor they would like" responds with "Red." Red is a color, and despite what countless years of hood conditioning and super sugary quarter water / basehead juices have told you, red is not a flavor. Blue, however, is. What? I'm from the hood too. Blue is ALWAYS blue rasberry....there's no Blueberry juice....therefore its a flavor. Red can be tropical punch, strawberry or even cherry. Come on son, you know better....



Other incompletes include saying "I had to get my hair, toes or feet 'did'", drinking any color Cisco and repeating the phrase "I only drink good beer like Heinekens and Coronas." Also, I dont care who you are, or where you are from, but smoking blunts or black and milds make you a hoodrat...as does drinking Paul Mason Brandy or E & J.



Hope the report cards dont spoil your summer vacation.

See you when School Starts.


Live, Love, the School System



Superintendant Showrock

Things That Are Not OK (Revisited, but New!)

C4 the Blog Killah returns now that I have left Fort Greene for Crown Heights, not too far from the intersection of Jews and Jamaicans. Guess which side I live on, bredren? True story, the divide is as real as getting off the 3 at Kingston and looking South towards the Jews or North towards the Jamaicans. The Bank of America is on the Jamaican side. I think someone was trying to be funny.

I mention my move not just to excuse my absence from you guys, but to also draw upon the things I've been observing here in the self-proclaimed thoroughest borough of New York City. Many of the things I've seen have been, you guessed it, NOT OK!!!

Let the exposé begin!

Drinking beer through a straw is NOT OK!

This is the most bitch-made looking way to look while drinking alcohol of any kind. If you're a man and doing this, your head is in the closet but your ass is peeking out like the former capital of China (Peking. No homo). If you're a woman doing this (which was indeed the case the other day in Clinton Hill), two things are wrong.

1. You are disrespecting your boyfriend, who is in turn disrespecting himself by loving and being with you (pimp hard!)

2. Who are you fooling? Have some soda if you're gonna sip from a straw, or at least a cocktail. Pass the Alize over to you, classless bitch (shoutout to Lydia, lol to The Poet).

The s*** just don't look right. It's awkward. It's not sexy, and it's not cool, and therefore my fly ass canNOT condone it.

Cursing at your children is NOT OK!

Even less cool if she was 7.

I'm not talking about loud-mouth teenagers and pre-teens who might have the bad-ass mind to curse right back at you, and will continue to run amok without an intervening ass-whooping. I'm talking about borderline toddlers you s***ty unfit mothers. You've seen these uncouth chickenheads at your local bodega or random trifling location in the hood. "Shut the fuck up! What the fuck I just tell you?! The fuck you think you doing?! Shut yo ass up!!"

Whoa whoa whoa whoa! What is wrong with YOU?! This is a developing young human absorbing and slowly piecing together his/her relationship with the universe, which mainly consists of Mommy. All that negativity just produces the emotional problems that turn them into future purse-snatchers, strippers, crack fiends and stick-up kids later on down the line.

Cmon ghetto moms, your kids got enough holding them back, your attitude towards them need not be one of them. Your situation may or may not be your fault, but what's certain is that it's not theirs either. (Message!)

Saying 'a-rab' is NOT OK, no matter what Ron Browz and Busta Rhymes tell you about their money. Look. It takes less time to just say Arab. Why add the hyphen, except to sound ignorant, racist, and uneducated. Why marginalize the Arabs, especially if you're black. These people have taken the nigger torch from us for almost ten years now since 9/11 happened and it became ok to profile them everywhere, and display open prejudice against them at airports, gas stations, libraries, offices, titty bars, basically everywhere.
Yeah I know, they still give us a hard time tryin to get a cab, but we should be used to that. It's cab driver asshole disease, or CDAD.

She definitely doesn't drive in Brooklyn. If she does, call me.

This is just hilarious. Australian cheese, they really did this.

Saying 'chinky' is NOT OK! Yes, even when trying to flatter some woman's eyes. It's also dumb racist, B! After all they've done for us. Who makes fried chicken wings like the Chinese? Who does manicures for you black women better than Koreans? Who understands our plight better than the Vietnamese and Cambodians? Whose broads listen to hip-hop and f&@k with black guys like the Filipinas?Whose happy ending is happier than the Thai, the Japanese? That's what I thought. So stop it, you ungrateful bastards.

Listen man. You don't get to be racist just because you're black.

Read that sentence again, memorize it, take it to heart. Just because we (rightly or wrongly doesn't matter, just stating the fact) call each other nigger all the time in conversation and rap songs doesn't mean we have license over ALL the racial slurs. Those races you are slurring hold that copyright, and you are infringing.

Therefore if someone of whichever group you're referring to feels obliged to whoop yo ass for talking that $h!t, they are well within their rights; just as you would be if you caught some cracker popping the N-word. Yes, that's the exception. White people.

Sorry white people, you can still be slurred. You get away with everything else, minorities get to say whatever they want about you. To quote Chris Rock, "sometimes people with the most $h!t get to say the least $h!t, and people the least $h!t get to say the moat $h!t. Wanna say some more $h!t, get rid of some of your $h!t."

The prize is in the front. The easy target is top left.

Bachelorette Tiaras are NOT OK (depending on your persepctive)

This is like having a giant colorful blinking light on your head silently screaming, "Jizz On My Face, FREE! One Night Only!" Wait, that's EXACTLY what you're doing? Yeah that's what I thought.

Brides to be, you are dropping bloody chum in shark-infested waters when you subject yourself and particularly your homegirls to the male attention that comes along with a rowdy group of women, one of whom is wearing a pathetic little crown that may or not have lights on it.

Every man in the room starts circling your group like Jaws, and at least one of your drunk friends with marriage on her mind, lust in her drooping eyes and mojito in her hand, is getting clipped. Right off the back of the herd.

And that's all good. Just as long ad the one with the tiara doesn't catch a case of Distant Dick, and some non-fiancé smashes her days before her wedding.

Hmmm, forget what I said. I'm a man, so this is a good thing because it can only lead to a cool story for your boys. But you won't catch my eventual wife rocking a tiara for her bachelorette party. Maaaaan, FUNK DAT!

C4 2 Ya Door with pre-newlywed whores.

Ya Dig?!

Drunken Asshole Adventure Pt 2.

Good morrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrning Vietnam!!!! And good morning to the rest of the world as well, because quite frankly, I don't think I have any followers in Vietnam. It just sounds cool to yell that out from time to time.


To all of you that checked out yesterdays drunken "choose your own adventure post" I say "good looking out", and for those of you who didn't....well....you guys can go eat a bag of discarded hermaphrodite foreskins. Uuuuughkkk (Clipse voice.)


Today we are going to continue the adventure, only sanz the part where you get to choose. From here on out I'll be picking what happens as I am the one with the blog. Nah-Nah-Nah Nah Nah Nahhhhhh (Jim Jones Voice.) Sometimes I wish I had an audio blog just for those parts. Ah well...on with the blog bitches!!!!




After Shanga finished telling his miraculously foolish tale, he Dezo and I were ready for a night on the town. First stop, hotel party at the Econo lodge on Pond Lilly....you know? Right across the street from the projects. Insert DJ Khaled Music...It's sooooo Hooooooooooood. But that was to be expected.



Upon arrival we find the scene uneventful. A few of my lil homies were there, room had a gigantic hot tub, but the thought of how much cheap chickenhead perfume sented semen and prostitute pubic hairs were clogging up the drain made it very unattractive. Just think of it as a public urinal for an AIDS ward full of drug addicted vagrant strippers pissing blood. Still wanna take a dip? I thought not. LOL.




We drink a few cocktails made with three Olives and Tampico (or some other hood juice that kinda looks like OJ, but tastes like coconut Tang) and get the f**k up outa there. It was cool....but we needed to holler at some hoes. Sausage fests are only permissible if you're all in the same frat (no homo.) So what. I'm biased.

Next we hit downtown to go fu*k with my boy Rahzy Von P at the Ivy. It's usually popping, but they were hosting a party for someone else and it flat out sucked when we arrived. Later it picked up and I apologized for writing it off as a bad experience and describing the dance floor as "as empty as a prostitutes soul." Apparently all the people were downstairs looking foolish, sweating through their thermals and cardigan sweaters that for some reason THEY WERE WEARING MID-AUGUST!! Smh...and yes, I am actually shaking my head right now. Pause.

Now that the scene has been set (hopefully in not too boring of a manner), lets get to the hogwash tomfoolery. As we approach the parking garage a goofy looking white boy straight up shoots the Ice-grill (Gives a long, hard, (pause), mean look) to my cousin DEZO. DEZO then walks off like a hoe, claiming he didn't see the guy looking him up and down. If this was true I advice him never to go into an aggressive gay club with that horrible depth perception and peripheral vision. LOL. Anyways, Shanga and I aren't having it.


Show: Yo, do you know him kid? If not, why are you looking at my cousin like that?

Shanga: Yea man, you looking at him like you bout to try and f**k him up!

Drunk-Bob Queer Pants: Ummmmm. Uhhhh. My boys dared me to ummmmm...come over....man, no problems. I don't want problems...Nevermind, this is stupid.

Sidenote: Unlike a catholic priest, he had no boys with him.


Next thing I know, he walks the other way and gets into an argument with another group of guys. I see the two guys knuckling up, getting ready to box. Naturally I tell the other guys friends to stay out of it and let it be a fair fight. LMAO. I don't even know any of these people but they listened. Why? I dunno....maybe they read the blog.


What happens next is something only the Iphone can tell. LOL. He got knocked the f**k out!!! (Smokey from Friday Voice). And you know this Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan (same voice.) See below.

Only someone who has just been knocked out cold can land like that in such an uncomfortable position. You can't make this shit up!!!! Also, he was actually snoring. Yes. He was knocked clean out. He got Chris Browned son. As EMS workers came a group of older white people told me "you better get out of here, just go!"


While I should have responded, "do I look dumb enough to have knocked this man out and then stand here taking pictures, waiting for the cops to come Mrs. Leather-faced cougar, I'm too old to be out clubbing with my receding hair lined husband?", my actual response was also classic.


"I didn't knock this man out nor do I know the hoodlum vagrants that did. I run a website and it would be socially irresponsible of me to not chronicle everything that happens in my city. You can't have one-sided news. Don't judge me."

Ether blogger!!! That's how you handle those situations.

Next up I walk to the car with DEZO and Shanga, laughing at the pics. While driving around the parking garage to the exit gate I see the guys who (I think) knocked out drunk bob. I throw the car in park and fling the driver side door open in the middle of the garage so I can exit. DEZO and Shanga are giving me the "what the f**k is going on" look. The kids see me approaching and think I'm with the dude they just knocked out and ran away from.

Show: "Aiyo, you just knocked dude out?"

Kids: "Nah we don't know what you're talking about dude."

Show: Thats a shame, cause I got pics.

Kids: Oooh, I knew someone snapped something let us see!!

Show: yeah. He's alive.

Meanwhile i hear yelling at the car and look over to see an altercation out of my Car's back window. Yep. Shanga had gotten into a fight in the 3 minutes I left him and DEZO alone with my car running about 7 feet away. What happened, might you ask? He yelled out the window to a girl saying "come here you fine little piece of white trash." Now had he said fine piece of ass, he might've survived, as she looked ho-bag-ish. He didn't, however, say "piece of ass" and subsequently was getting the shit slapped out of him by the time I came back to break it up. Lucky for him, a.) the guys I was talking to didnt like the girl , b.) Shanga's half white so I didnt peg him a racist and c.) he didnt hit her back.


No harm no foul right? We all bounced out of the garage, knowing that this was enough action for one night. Then we woke up (in different houses...no homo) in the morning and went to a Pig Roast Barbecue in Branford. LMAO.

Owwwwwwwwwww. Notorious P.I.G-Rocka.

Live, Love, Pigs (not cops)

Show aka Tucker Max-B. Owwwww.

Showrocka Presents: Choose your own Drunken Asshole Adventure

I woke up this morning...(do-do do-do-doooo)....Ain't know what to do...(do-do-do-do-dooo)...so i figured I'd blog, and take away your Monday blues....(Elvis Voice) .

Insert guitar solo.

What up people? I know it seems like I've been gone a while (As Saturdays interactive Blogging, or as MW put it "simply living your life on the town" left much to be desired in literary form. )Trust me though, it was well worth it. Today's blog pretty much writes itself, so there is no need for witty saritical references of fancy intros. Ok, well, maybe just a small intro...

A few weeks ago my boy Slim Jones said to me "more people will read your blog if they feel connected", hence my idea of 'interactive blogging' and my recent fervor for new Haven nightlife. In taking it a step further he said, "why not add an editable link section where people can add onto the blog" yada yada. To this I said, "Horrible idea. I can't rely on other people to write my blogs (and or fuck them up), and if these other pseudo-bloggers were that funny, they'd have their own blogs...or do stand up. LOL.

Anyway, the compromise reached between SJ and I, is a concept you've all heard of, but which has never been done like this. Thats right gente, Showrock Show is at it again, pioneering shit. It'a a blog with a twist. A little hot cabbage for that ass...the KimChi of blogs. It's hot, and it's got Seoul (Pronounced Soul....LOL.)

Showrocka Presents: Choose your own Drunken Asshole Adventure

This is pretty much how the night starts as Shanga, Dezo and I begin downing successive brews and prepping for a night on the town.

Yea you see it...we got that new Belvedere IX before you!!!! Why? Because I'm the Ether-Blogger!! Best you've ever read. Ok, done with the self promotion. Sigh.

Before the bottle is even cracked, DEZO says "I saw a hooker in Mcdonalds today."

Show: How'd you know she was a hooker?

DEZO: She was dressed like one and kept walking back and forth asking who wanted to have a good time.

Show: Haha. You know hookers walk the Berlin Turnpike? There's not even a sidewalk!!!! They're in the road, and that shit is like a highway!!!

Shanga: Oh man. I remember I walked the pike once.

DEZO & Show: Whaaaaaaaaat?

SIDENOTE: The Berlin Turnpike is about 40-45 minutes driving from New Haven.

As Shanga proceeds to tell his story about how this came to be, I begin vaguely remembering bits and pieces of the hazy recollection. This, however, is the first time I'm hearing it from the horses mouth.

A night of clubbing at the now defunct Club 2001 on the pike had resulted in four drunken friends becoming seperated. While Buck-Dinero, Shanga, Ghost and Flacco go to the club together, Ghost gets pissed and basically...got ghost on them ni**as. Do you A.) Go with Ghost? or B.) Stay with Buck, Shanga and Flacco....?

A.) You've chosen to ride with Ghost as he mumbles to himself, "fu*k these drunk assholes", I'm going to meet up with some chickenheads. As Ghost reaches in the back for a Heineken, he hears his phone ringing but ignores it. Heineken popped and music blaring, ghost peels rubbe rout the parking lot and hits the turnpike. According to him, the pike was looking like Hunt's point and the temptation to turn his toyota into a short stay motel for the small price of 5o bucks was quite tempting. Eh, possibilty of disease is way too prevelant. Besides, all the good looking pike hoes whore out of the strip club. LOL.

Remebering he has a nip of Hennessey in the car, Ghost continues to "Po' it up (get drunk)" while speeding recklessly down the pike. It is now almost 2:00am, club closing time. "I aint pickin these dudes up..." he thinks. Quite frankly, his d**k was dryer than some African elbows and the possibility of possibly quenching his thirst in an unsantized sespool or female love puddle seemed a bit more attractive. Guess Ghost should've went back and picked up his boys as, what happens next is straight up Karma.

I aint talking BET the Basement when I procclaim "(W)Rap City!" That's right people. Too much henny thuggin and vagina monologues on the brain caused Ghost's drunk ass to wrap his entire car around a guard rail. Totaled! Game Over. Insert another Quarter. Should've never ditched your boys.

B.) Ghost has just left but no one cares as they are too busy hitting on everygirl in the club. A girl is dancing on a speaker in a skirt. Buck-Dinero proceeds to put his head under her skirt and shake it around, simulating cunnylingis. He is an asshole but she thinks its funny, so she mustve been a whore. A drunken sloppy whore.

Shanga and Flaco are taking shots and screaming "oye mami" at any white girl who looks like she'd be flattered at the thought of being considered spanish. Nearly an hour goes by as the boys miraculously manage to slap asses, stick their heads between drunken titties and call girls hoes without getting thrown out the club. Trust me, it was a miracle...I've been thrown out for much less. LOL. Next stop...the parking lot...do you C.) Hang with Shanga? or D.) Go see what trouble Buck is starting in the parking lot?

C.) You've chosen to stay with Shanga. Did I forget to mention that Club 2001 shares a parking lot with a strip club? Ok, duly noted. Shanga tries to gain enterence but as he has no money and it is already 2:00 Am, the bouncers aren't having it. Seeing he is obviously drunk, they do not beat the Lavar Burton (Reading Rainbow ni**a) from Roots out of him. He gets pissed and manages to grab his phone out of his pocket and call Ghost, his ride, who has seemingly disappeared. Ghost's phone goes straight to voice mail. On top of this, Shanga remembers that he left his Hennessey in Ghost's whip. Ain't that a bi*ch!!! Upon hearing commotion, he looks to see what Buck and Flacco are up to. Eh, nothing out of the ordinary....Buck picking fights with drunken Frat Boys. Typical.

D.) "F**k you frat boy. Come on casper...Snow White...I'll knock some black into you!!" says Buck to the boys. Sidenote: I may have imbellished that conversation and I think the dude he was yelling at was Spanish.) Nevertheless, the white (and spanish) boys aren't havin it! "Fuck you b**ch" they scream in retaliation, as one hops out the truck and knuckles up. Buck, seeing the drunkenly revelry evolve into a potiental fight, begins to back peddle on some "Man, stop playin...I was just fuc*in with yall" shit. Before buck gets a chance to cop a plea, or actually fight, Flacco comes running from behind and cracks the kid in the head with a heiniken bottle. Blood, green glass and the sophisticated-hood ni**a beer of choice is flowing everywhere!! Next thing you know, the police are there in 2.2 Seconds and Buck and Flacco are arrested. What? Of course the cops came quick, they're in front of a strip club!!! Shanga arrives and doesn't know what to do? Should he E.) intervene? or F.) Take his spanish-looking ass home?

E.) "Yo, yo...what the f**k is going on" he screams to a duo of policemen who scream, "you better cool it." His friends were going to jail and he didn't even know why. As his mind races around thinking "who's ass did the grab in front of the police", he notices the broken Heiniken bottle and bloody white boy. Ohhhh shit. That was the last Heineken!!!!

Cops: "Look boy...you wanna go to jail? "

Shanga: Hellll Nah.....

Cops: Then Go Home!!!

Shanga: How? They're my ride!!!

Cops (While pulling out cuffs): You better start walking!!

F.) Rather than end up getting locked up (again) on account of Buck, Shanga decides to start the walk back home down the pseudo-highway known as the Berlin Turnpike. Drunk and pissed off, yet glad to not be in jail, Shanga is getting laughed at by the hookers as he eases on down the road like MJ in the Wiz. After walking for an hour, Shanga says f**k this sh*t, and goes into someones back yard. Does he decided to take a nap and continue the journey in the morning, or try and find a charger for his dead cell-phone? Nope. He steals a little girls bike. Complete with basket.

Shanga rides the little pink bike down the road for another hour (Total travel time =2 hours) after which his says, "F**k this", and throws the bike on the side of the road. After hitchhiking for another 20 minutes he finally gets bicked up at about 4:30 am by four Africans in a Toyota Corolla. LMAO. They think that Shanga is cool, empathisize with his story (aka laugh their asses off) and drop him off at his crib. He's lucky they didnt gang rape him or sell him into white slavery. LOL.

The end...Kinda.

DEZO, Shanga and Showrock still havent left the house....and I gaurentee, you dont want to miss what happens after this story was told. Tune in tomorrow!!!!

Live, Love, Choosing my own Assehole-ish adventure!

Show

P.S. All events are True stories!!!

Interactive Blogging: IVY LOUNGE TONIGHT!

What up peoples? Shouts to my NoDaysOff family who threw their Celebrity B-day Party for my man Ferris Bueler (Or for niggas who knew him before this Nowdaysoff shit, Dean). I can't lie, shit was packed in, no homo, but it really wasn't my style. Killa Cam was in the building and performed (I heard...LOL...he wasn't there when i left at like 1:15 am). Ni**as said he rocked it for like a half hour though. Yada yada. I think I'm just getting too old for this club shit....Maybe I'm at an age where I have to just go on crazy vacations, play beerpong and try miscelanious drugs. LMAO. Siiiiiike! You are never too old to party. That being said, I'm not really blogging today...I'm more like checking in...How yall doin? LOL.

I'm going to try something new (No, not because I'm being lazy) and do this thing called interactive Blogging. What this means is come out tonight, leave the house, come fuck with me and I promise to be funny all night. No, I'm not promoting anything except the idea of everyone having a good time. I'm on my Lupe today...food and liquor. I'm supposed to be studying for a state test, but f**k that...Lets get it in.

I'm going to start by spending money at local bars with Tim-A-Shanga (wherever has a weekend Happy Hour)....

Then I'm going to be at my Girl Courtney Jo's Party at the Econolodge (holla at me or her for details).

Next I'm going to most likely be getting at my man Rahzy Von Party down at Ivy Lounge. There's doing a Launch party for DJ Budah Love Jonez's website and its sponsored by Nuvo (Yeeeeeea Boiiii) (Flava Flav Voice.) AND THEY SERVE PRESIDENTE!!!! I'm so Dominican.

Finally, Night cap at the crib...unless people convince me to invite them over for some afterhours sh*t. Bar and Pooltable at la Cas Rocka never closes! This, however, would require me getting that scop bobble wop (aka fellatio) from a fine female....or somebody buying me a slice of pizza. Ye Dig?


Till later......

Live, Love, Non-Computer Life

Show

Don't Knock it Till You Tried it Pt 2: Blatant Racism

Racism isnt a problem in America.


Discrimination, however, is a flesh eating virus knawing away at the collective cadaver of American society with the ferocity of a school of blood thirsty pirahanas. Just as Merriam-Webster's primary definition states, racism is the inherant belief that race determines certain traits, thereby ensuring the superority of certain races over others. This definition does not explicitly describe acts of preferential or detrimental treatment towards members of the same of different races, as these would encompass the practices of predjudice and discrimination.



Now I know a lot of you mutherfu*kas are thinking, "look at this nig*a trying to be all educated and philosophical" or "what the fu*k does this have to do with anything?" To those of you I say, Eat my ball sweat covered gym shorts son...No Homo (Bart Simpson Voice.) Do you honestly think I don't know how to write a blog by now? Do you think I'm not aware of the fact that you could give a shit about my world views on prominent issues? Yall are here because you want me to pick your brain all the while saying reckless sh*t and peddling seemingly contradictory yet inherantly true theories as could only be so elloquently explained in literary form by an educated Ivy League Hoodlum.


Lucky for you all, I don't know how to not talk reckless! Sure that was probably impropper grammar but who cares, we've got more important things to worry about.


Follow me on a journey into the land of societal taboos as I show you how to be racist, why it's OK and how this newfound openness will eventually lead our society to the coveted "city upon a hill" status.



Disclaimer: I indemnify myself against any damages shold you try anything mentioned in Today's post and get your ass whipped. That is all.

Don't Knock it Till You Tried it Pt 2: Blatant Racism





What do the Black Panthers, the KKK and Rastafarianism all have in common (Hint: it has nothing to do with white women, weed or guns)? All these movements believe, one way or the other, in the superiority of a particular race. Guess what else? They've all been around for decades based on their blatant, in your face style and tactics.






Now I am not saying these institutions are alike. Quite frankly the KKK are fu*king assholes, the black Panthers were a little too militant for my beliefs and the original Rastafarians were a little too guilible for the likes of myself. All these things being said, they still managed to evlove into respected institutions (love them or hate them) based on the simple premise that hey "we're keeping it 100. We hate the Police and don't really like white people. We hate Niggers. And We....well, we think its OK to Blaze the Herb and Praise our Black God while looking down at you lowly white peasants."


This being duly noted, I can imagine you all are asking "how does this effect us in 2009?" Well, you see, it is only by making things the norm or part of popular culture, that those things lose their edge or scathingly hurtful nature. Think about how the N-word has lost its fervor or how many jokes which can be told now couldn't have been mention years ago (think Catholic Priests and Little boys.) That's right people, we need to be overly-racist to get this shit out of our system and bring to light the inherant ridiculousness of some of these beliefs and stereotypes.


Sidenote: Start with members of your own race in order to not get killed. Take baby steps. LOL.


Ok, You ready? On your mark, get set.....Go call somebody a coon!! LOL.


Next time you're on a plane and the stewardess asks the man in front of you if he'd like chicken or fish, answer for him!! Say "He'll have the Chicken...with watermellon!!" LOL. See, you're getting the hang of it, it's funny.


Or how about when a white person is asked their favorite restaurant? What should you say? The Cracker Barrel. LOL.


Ok, On to the Latinos. If you see one of your brethren who has a job as a maid, always demand that she has the entire place "Spic and Span." Get it?


One more. Try this one the next time you overhear someone ask another African American what their favorite song is. Say "oooh, ooooh....I know his favorite song. The one from the Lion King. A-Coon-a-Matadaa. LMAO." Favorite Vacationspot? Can-Coon. I think you get the point.

If you work in HR, alther the form so that it says "Black, White, Other, Asian, Indian (Dot), Indian (Feather)", just to get a reaction.

I think you get the point.

Nowadays people are more racist than ever, yet surpisingly, political correctness is at an all time high. Lets cut through all the bullshit and trade scathingly subtle hatred for lighthearted racism. It sounds contradictory and maybe i'll regret it but hey, its worth a try. Maybe racism will become like a radio friendly single...you hear it so much that by the time you buy the album the song's played out.


Lets all just hit the skip button. Niggas, Spicggas, Crackgaas and Chinkggaaas.

Live, Love, Trying something new (Pause)


Show

The Darwinian Evolution of the Chickenhead

I don't believe in dinosaurs, however, i do believe in Chickenheads.


Do I smell a conspiracy theory a-brewin'? Nope. Just some good old fashioned straight talk about the process of Darwinian Natural selection, the Dinosaur Myth and...yep, you guessed it....Chickenheads. Enjoy.


The Darwinian Evolution of the Chickenhead


Darwins theory, in its simplest form, states that the strong Will survive and the weak will adapt. Ok, that's cool. it makes sense. If this is the case, however, how the f*ck is it that the gigantic, ravenous mammals with huge fangs like Dinosaurs, woolly mammoths and sabre toothed tigers became extinct only to leave behind their bitch ass cousins the "tiger" and "elephant."

Sounds to me like some bullshit. The theory is inherently flawed. I am smarter than Darwin (at least once I combine forces with the power of the Internet.)


Why then, even mention the Darwinian theory if it is flawed? Well, you see...it's not completely flawed and if viewed a little more closely, the theory eludes to what Darwin most likely intended it to prove. Yes the strong survive, but strength is not to be determined merely by physical strength or ferociousness. Strength lies in ones ability to adapt.

Not having knowledge of this particular theory but possessing a womanly, mother's intuition women began to raise their daughers according to this method. Yes thats right chicas, your intentions were good, except that it was not well adapted super-women which you succeeded in creating. You all f**ked up and created infant chickenheads which you have been subconsciously nurturing ever since. Chickenheads (despite the urban definition of "a girl who sucks d**k"), are not merely defined by their fellatious tendencies. Think about it, how can a baby who doesn't suck d**k yet still be considered a chickenhead? Just conjure up an image of a "pacifier" and let me explain.



Chickenhead-ness is reached through various stages in the same way that adolescent children go through puberty, and it is not until one is well into her 50's or 60's that she will become cognisant of and renounce her chickenhead ways. What makes chickenhead-ness so difficult to detect is that it metamorphoses as one grows and matures. Few would doubt that two 17 year olds fighting in the street over a boy are acting chickenhead-ish, but what about the 38 year old woman inviting friends over just to show off her new Louis Vuitton Purse, and look down upon her girlfriend's Gucci bag from last season? Call it what you want, but it reeks or chickenhead-dom to me. Funny thing is, not only are you ignorant of the fact that you smell like KFC, but you also refuse to realize you're creating little Chicken McNuggets in training. LOL.



Here's how it all began...


You began thinking it was cute to walk around 8-9 months pregnant in little moo-moos, maternity dresses and small tents, only to have other non-pregnant chickenheads reinforce your belief. In all honesty, they only thought it was cute because you were pregnant rather than them, but that's another story for another day. LOL. People begin to rub your belly and feel baby's first kicks.


Baby was actually letting you know that she liked the "massage" and was kicking whenever it stopped. Baby's first temper tantrum. Little did you know you would be initiating a 90 dollar a week sweedish massage habit which your daughter would not be able to afford...we forgive you, for you knew not what you were doing.


Soon you pop that baby out like a loose filling and the attention starts to pour down upon you both (this, in the case of mothers, is often what causes postpartum depression). You dress your baby in cute little outfits and get her addicted to the smiles, hugs and kisses to the point where's she's sucking on that attention like it was a giant di*k and she was auditioning for porn. Call it foul if you like, but you created this chickenheaded monster! I'm just the bringer of bad news also known as the truth. Don't shoot the messenger.


In the same way little boys begin vying for attention via scholastic and athletic achievements, mothers unknowingly prime their daughters under the premise that a woman should always look her best. What then becomes important, in the child's eyes, is not looking her best, but looking better than all the other girls. Sure your daughter may be smart, athletic or multi-talented, but it is the chickenhead sickness which all but consumes her mentality and causes her to focus on all things aesthetic. Sure some girls don't care about these things, but they are chickenheads in other ways. Vying for attention in the classroom, at the spelling bee and later on in the corporate boardroom. Sure all chickenheads suck di*k...but here's the important part. That di*k can be "attention", "fame", "fortune" or the worst of all..."Love." Let that be a lesson to you all...if you suck in anything for the feeling of achievement and self worth (be it "glory", "affection" or "semen") you fall somewhere on the chickenhead spectrum. Sorry.


Once girls reach puberty and discover sex, the Chickenhead tendencies emerge full force as oral acrobatics and skin flute practice take the place of saxophone solos and ballet recitals. Yes, I am afraid to say it, but by age 18, your baby probably had her tongue on more poles that Ralphie's friend from Christmas story. Sure you didn't triple dog dare her to do it, but your subconscious actions were what brought this about. Have no fear, however, because by the time she is able to drink, the Oral chicken head phase is over as women realize the most effective way to suck all they want out of life. By the mid to late 2o's women realize that sex is what truly bestows upon women the unparalleled power to shape their own relationship destiny, and by ages 30 and 40 they realize that replacing sex with marriage is an even better alternative...more lucrative and less energy consuming.


By the time a woman reaches her 50's, (Kiesha Cole's people not included), she begins to realize something important about the sport of Chicken-heading. The true pleasure lies not in how much attention and worldly pleasures you can suck in, but rather how you can enjoy life and be happy without hurting your "metaphorical jaws." Stroke the ego of others for a chance and quit sucking the nutrients out of life's finite resources... quit talking about what others can do for you...save your mouth some trouble and give life a hand job. LOL.


Don't worry, I don't just hate on women...I hate on everybody!

The Darwinian Evolution of The Dickhead (Pause)coming Soon!!



Live, Love, Laughs


Show

10 People Worse than Mike Vick.

URGENT MESSAGE:

I received an actual death threat via the blog yesterday in the comments section (feel free to read it). Someone threatened to kill me at the next Penn reunion if I post another post and said things to the effect of "your life is done." This is not only not cool, but criminal. I'm no snitch, so I'll simply say if the blog is that offensive than you should probably check out http://www.mylifesaflic.blogspot.com/ instead, as it is less racially and politically charged, but also funny as hell. Anyways, I'm still blogging and say hey "If it's my time to go, it's my time to go. I might as well die for something I believe in. The art of writing."

Paz,

Show.


Anyone who knows me knows that I am an avid Philadelphia Eagles fan, as well as a purveyor of conspiracy theories and black power rhetoric whenever I'm not off engaging in drunken revelery with my frat brothers and forgetting I am not white. LOL. This being said, HOW COULD I NOT OFFER MY 7 Cents on the reinstatement of Michael Vick.


Yes, yes Muthaf**kas. Burn the herb, Vick's a bird.

Now, before everyone gets their Eagle feathers and Victorias Secret Panties in a bunch I think I should clear the air. I am aware that this year people seem to care about animals more than they do abortion, religion in schools or whatever the trendy topics of discussion may be. I am in no way shape or form saying that I do not condone what Mike Vick did, I am however, admiting that in doing so, he really screwed himself. I know this is going to piss everyone off, but like I said, I like to keep it 100 and am not intentionally trying to say offensive shit. It just so happens I am a moderately offensive person. LOL.


Now that I have your attention and you've all been briefed, I want to ask...how many of you even like Pitbulls? Would you ever own one? Would you leave it around your child?

(Insert Silence).

Oh they're dangerous killer dogs now..? You mean Mike Vick wasnt out biting the heads off innocent poodles?

Now....let me ask you this. Do you like roaches Mr. or Miss Animal Lover? What makes an insect so different from any other living breathing organism? LOL. I'm just f**king with yall. I hate roaches and used to watch pitbulls eat gun powder and hot sauce before fighting each other when I was a kid. What? I'm from the inncer city. Bite me (no pun intended.)

All jokes and insensitivity aside, my problem is not with people loving animals. If you love them, fine. It's cool. All to the good. However, there is no way that any self respecting human being would agree that animals are as valuable as human life...(sidenote: Mike Vick has given away 2 years of valuable human life on account of dog fighting.) If you do believe domesticated animals and humans are equals than why can't you f**k them? Haha. there is no point of contention for that!


As with most things, I believe that peoples strong feelings toward my boy M. Dot stem from their own ignorance of the actual situation. Lets say f**k the fact that he's paid his debt to society. I can name many things worse than dog fighting, (including poverty and world hunger), but f**k that...I'm gonna focus on the ones that b**ches (male or female) care about. Since they're the ones hatin' on Ol' boy Vick-James the NFL superfreak (pause.)

Here goes...

Would you want your mom raped? Your Dad murdered by mobsters? You brother run over by a Drunk Driver? Your sister beaten up by her boyfriend? Your uncle paralyzed by a stray bullet? Your cousin subjected to racial slurs and spit upon? NO. Unless you are a sick f**k you will say no, as all of these things are UNDOUBEDETLY Worse than fighting dogs. Now here comes the NHB's shedding light on the darkness of ignorance. Oh, you weren't aware their are players in the NBA, NFL and MLB accused of and convicted of all the following acts??? Exactly. Leave my dog Vick alone and go harass them.


Showrocka Presents: Sure Vick was an Asshole, but These Guys are Worse!!!

10. O.J. Simpson (NFL)

Lets assume O.J. was guilty for a second. If this was true, he would have murdered his freakin wife, whom he had previously physically abused, over her seeing another man! Worse than Dog fighting? I think so.

9. Mike Tyson (IBC)

This guy....I can't front, I used to love him (pause). I even idolized Mike to the point where I wanted to be like him rather than the old basketball playing Mike with the gay gold hoop earring. Nevertheless, Mike did (supposedly) rape Robin Givens. I think she was a kineving gold digger, but, I refuse to believe that a man of Mike's stature couldn't overpower a small dansel in distress. No means no. Whether "Roof-Roof" equals "no" cannot be verified. For all we know it could equal consent.


8. Bill Romanowski (NFL)

I am amused by racially charged humor but find nothing funny about racism....well, I don't find racism THAT FUNNY. Lol. Bill romanoski's racist punk ass was caught ON TELEVISION using racial slurs and spitting on opponents. He also took steroids and, according to our Nappyheaded Sports Analyst C4: "he once spit on jj stokes and called him a nigger, broke a teammates jaw in practice, and popped pills like weezy." Nuff said. Shall I continue?


7. Pacman Jones (NFL)

Boy meets Girl. Girl is a stripper. Boy makes it rain on girl, expecting to recieve his money back (WTF?) . Girl picks up money. Boy punches her in the head repeatedly. Boy gets escorted from club. Bouncer gets shot and is consequently paralyzed.

Yep. All this went down and Pacman served no time in jail. In his defense he wasn't the trigger man, was banned from the NFL for a year AND had to have a personal chaperone once he was admitted back in. Check the video of him making it rain before the altercation.

http://www.sportsrubbish.com/2009/07/17/football/nfl/adam-pacman-jones-makes-it-rain-at-minxx-strip-club-in-las-vegas-video/


6. Kobe Bryant (NBA)

As any self respecting slut will tell you, "just because a girl is a hoe does not mean she wasn't raped." As any wealty, self-respecting athlete will tell you, "just because I am guilty, does not mean my lawyers can't beat the case". That is all.


5. Joe Dimaggio (MLB)

Guess what? Joe Diamaggio was admittedly in the Mob! This, my friends, is confirmed as he retired from baseball in 1951 only to immediately recieve a trust fund in his name from big time mobster Frank Costello. He also used to beat the shit out of his wife, Marilyn Monroe. Now that's just criminal in and of itself!!


4. Ty Cobb (MLB)


This ni**a was hated so much that only 4 players showed up at his funeral. He admitedly killed a mugger in an alley, a story which many believe to be false, but which is unverifyable. Newsflash: If you kill a man you're an ass. If you don't kill a man, and still say you did, you're still an ass!!! Oh yea, he was also afilliated with the KKK and once beat his wife for asking him to stop assulting the black groundskeeper. If it was Groundskeeper Willie (instead of Groundskeeper Willie-Mays) he would've fu*ked Ty Cobb up. LOL.

3. Albert Hanesworth (NFL)


Hanyesworth, rather than fight dogs, decided to kick a human being like one while he was on the ground. After kicking off his opponents helment, he then dug his cleat into the man's eye. No time served, however he did pay a hefty fine and sit out for like half the season.

2. Dante Stallworth (NFL)

Thank god Dante didn't do anything too bad like Michael Vick's dog fighting ass. Oh wait...contrary to what his prision sentence of 30 days says, he ran a man over while driving his 2005 Bentley drunk at 7:00 am. Seems like the right sentence since he said he was sorry. 30 days for Stallworth killing a latino man, 23 months for Vick for killing a Dog. Tell me they weren't making an example of Vick and I will say fine, "the judge values the life of a dog more than that of a minority."

1. David Justice (MLB)

No black, or white man for that matter, can forgive the sin that Dave Justice comitted. THIS NI**A BEAT UP HIS WIFE HALLE BERRY!!! Not only is domestic violence not cool, he f**ked up the sexual fantasies of millions of men across the globe. I mean she's so fine she has a song about her! What have you ever done (aside from you accomplishments with the Braves)? You insensitive prick. We should stick you in a cage with the Vick dogs!

So there you have it. I know that 10 wrongs don't make a right, but I am simply urging you all to consider Vick a rehabilitated man who was paid his debt to society. Nah, Nah (Anwar Voice)...F**k that. We should start retroactively putting these other coons in jail for the monkey shit they got away with scott free (with the exception of O.J.). I told you playa, they were gonna leave you alone becuase of the Double Jeapordy rule, but then you went and wrote that "If I did it" book. Fool.

OK, this post is getting long so I'm gonna end it with a toast of parton for the newest Philadelphian, Michael Vick.

Raise your glasses, Toast my people....Vick's an Eagle, Fu*k your beagle.


Live, Love, Keepin it 100 + 7


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Ghetto Superstars

What up folk? Sorry, that was not a Gang reference but R.I.P to the lil homie Tyler and any other Vice Lords and GD's. I regret to inform you that I am taking it easy on my reckless slavery references as even I know when I may be pushing past the standards of common decency. Yea right. I'm just chillin a little bit because I dont want people to ACTUALLY think its OK to be calling each other coons and N-words (at least not in front of "da MAN". LOL.) This being said, I am substituting thinly veiled satirical references to slavery for good old fashioned hood shit.


Many of you are from the hood and don't even know what the f**k I'm talking about, simply because you are so deeply entrenched in the myriad of hood shit you call life, that you dont even realize you're doing hood shit! The rest of you...well, yall might not even be from the hood and STILL manage to do shit which is so past hood it may even be considered ghetto.


Enter today's ghetto Superstars: Kenny & Henny. Through no fault of their own (I'm assuming), these two ni**as...well, Dominican ni**as, were involved in a car accident. Thank god they are alright, because now I can chronicle the hilarity which did ensue. Now I am not saying anything about Dominica as a country (whooops, I mean Dominican Republic), but as a hood ni**a, I recognize hood sh*t when I see it. See below.

F**k the fact that ni**as are still chillin in club (Or beach) wear instead of hospital gowns, or that their boys are walkin round takin flicks at a hospital, LOOK AT THE NECK BRACE. Yezzir, that is some good, Ol' fashioned Dominican cardboard! I hope they at least gave my dude a shot of Brugal (with the net) to take the pain away...true story. I'm really laughing cause the only thing I can think of more hood would be going into a hospital in a black neighborhood and getting a neck brace made out of a Popeyes chicken bucket!! LMAO...Or going to a white neighborhood and having rednecks prop your head up with Miller High Life Cans. I'm sure all possibilities would be just as comfortable.

At least todays ghetto superstars took it in stride and handled the situation like some G's.

Owwww Owwwww. Shouts to mami in the back right. The NappyheadedBro sees all!

Also, Peep homie in the back cheesin' (smilin'.) I also don't know how dude managed to get completely fucked up, blood gushin like a vampire on her period, and still keep his uptowns crispier than lettuce at a salad bar! Now that is some hood shit...knowing how not to f**k up your air Force Ones. LOL.

My lil step brother used to stuff the toes with tissue paper to keep them from creasing. Funny thing is, he'd do that shit while still wearing the shoes! Nevertheless though, I digress. Here's the truly funny thing about our Blog Superstars...they knew just what to do when faced with the impending possibility of a hot ghetto mess...Take pictures and facebook them bitches!!!

Yes, you are looking at the hood's most hood wheelchair. It looks like 2 mountain bikes took advantage of and ran a train on a poor white picnic set. LOL. I guess this is the product of their biracial union, and just like any other low self esteemed white woman, Mrs. Chair-bike is at it again, holding up black men who cant stand on their own two feet. LOL. It's funny, you can laugh.

Actually, let me stop. Yall black women are just as bad sometimes so I refuse to pigeonhole an entire race...at least today I do. I should've said, "like a fat white woman..." LOL. Ok, Ok, I'll stop.

Needless to say, the aforementioned (haven't used that word in a while) events were indubitably hood. Kudos to the gentlemen involved for seeing the humor of the situation and for not being fat enough to crack that chair. The rest of yall, however, are not going to get off so easy for your own apparent hoodness.

Black, White, Messican or Pepperican, we all have a little bit of ghetto superstar in us (Shouts to Pras.....SIKE....R.I.P Ol' Dirty tho). Think that the terms "hood" and "ghetto" only apply to the blacks? Think again and look at the hood shit below.

Shouts to Shanga-Boy Tell'em for the pic, and Yes....it is extremely hood to have your baby girl at a stag. At least the nig*a wasnt being a dead beat dad. LOL. On to more hood sh*t!

Now I don't normally post videos, but in the tradition of keeping it 100 I cannot try to Lebron James the Clip. I admit, someone caught us on tape during a stanky legg dance off and during an old school kid and Play double dutch hop off. See man, yall should've came to the Dezo's Way party. Check the Vids.

Double Dutch Thuggin'
http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#/video/video.php?v=533274147752&ref=mf

Stanky Legg Off

http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#/video/video.php?v=533274482082&ref=mf

2 People make it rain with 1 Dollar...and by 2 People I mean Showrock & Dezo
http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#/profile.php?id=1084560045


And a little bit more hood shit..... Now check it. Even foreigners are mad hood. When I saw that 19 people got locked up for fighting birds I was like "Oh, ni**as don't wanna put COCK FIGHTING" on the front of the newspaper. Come to find out, these Brazilian coons were coming from as far as Rhode Island and NY to fight Canaries and finches! What are those shits mortal enemies or something? Whats next...fighting bunnies and hares? True story.

In the end I hope this post has taught you two things. 1.) You have to laugh at yourself or in the end the joke will really be on you...and 2.) Anybody can be hood, and unlike big mandingo penis's (PAUSE), it ain't just a black thaaaaaang. LMAO.

Be sure to let me know if I didn't have any brilliant one-liners today. Actually if you tell me, I'll tell you to go lick balls covered in goldbond while your girls mouth serves as daycare for my semi-viscous liquid children. LOL.

Live, Love, the G-H-E-T-T-O

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