Once again the B.E.T. awards aired and I didn’t watch it. I’m a better person for not seeing any of it. My soul, intelligence, and inner blackness thank me for not watching twice a day. No Hudson, Fantasia, T.I., Beyonce, and I feel great about it. I hate you B.E.T. (Except for Rocsi and Danella.) and the horse you rode in on.
Two weeks pro wrestler Chris Benoit flipped out and merced his entire family. He killed his wife on Friday. He killed his little boy on Saturday allegedly using his finishing move to do the deed. Finally on Sunday Benoit pulled a “von Erich” hanged himself thus completing the time honored “murder suicide” routine. (Somebody call Grissom, Nick, and Warrick.) Benoit’s costly flip out has been blamed on “roid rage” and illustrates something that anyone that has watched wrasslin’ has known for some time: Vince McMahon (Owner of the WWE) and everybody that is involved is on steroids. The average wrestler type is bigger than most NFL players and gets injured more often. Over the past 20 years wrestling has racked up a casualty rate than a group of rappers. Every death can be linked to three things: Steroids, liquor, and painkillers. I know wrestling is fake but steroids are still illegal. George Mitchell and the feds are spending a lot of time grilling baseball players but Barry Bonds has never killed anyone. *That we know of any way. If you dug up his back yard I wouldn’t be shocked if there were a couple of dead white women there.* Baseball players die of old age for the most part. Wrestlers can say that. I thought I’d never say this but leave Barry alone and do something about wrestling.
Competitive Eating is the most useless and vile acts ever shown on television. *NMN, whenever you get back to this coast you and I have a chicken wing eat-off to settle.*
*Disclaimer* I seldom jack other institutions or writers for their ideas but I doing it write now. This weeks sign that the apocalypse is upon us (Sports Illustrated c.) : Professional whore/pin cushion/rental bicycle/writer Karinne Stephens b/k/a Superhead is penning yet another books in which she plans to drop dimes on her former clients as well illustrate how low her self-esteem is. *I’d like to apologize to Ms. Moneypenny, my two sisters, and any other female who is about to read this but here it goes.* What about this logic makes sense? I hate myself inside. I think I’ll *&^ DMX, write a book about it, and go on Oprah and pretend I didn’t know what I was doing. Men please take care of your daughters because we can’t keep this letting this happening.
Last but no least it is time for our Silly Ass Negro of the week. His name is Bobby Cutts Jr. is the latest black man to pull and Othello (kill his white lover/baby mama/paramour) and come up with a hooky ass plan to try to cover it up thusly giving Nancy Grace’s bloated, shrill, and disturbingly pregnant ass something to talk about. Thanks for setting us back a few years.
Hang in there Mario.
Y’all have a good weekend.