“The White House refused to indicate Monday whether President Obama will issue a posthumous pardon for Jack Johnson, the African-American boxing champion convicted in 1913 for dating a white woman.”

Look, other than the year or so he spent in jail, Jack Johnson didn’t give a fuck what the United States thought about him dating white women then and he doesn’t give a fuck what they think now. Especially now, because he’s dead!

Stop your campaigns to pardon Shoeless Joe Jackson too – because he’s also dead and well, he was guilty.

I’m sure Galileo didn’t much care when the Pope forgave him either. Official apologies mean nothing. History decides on its own.

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Drexl Spivey: He must have thought it was white boy day. It ain’t white boy day, is it?
Marty: No man, It ain’t white boy day.

Despite having lived in California for over 15 years, I just had my first encounter with a crazed homeless person.

She was about 300 pounds and wearing what appeared to be a huge grey sweat shirt. I got too close to her pulling out of the Donut shop, that I foolishly decided to try out. By too close I mean about 20 feet away.

She hurled herself at my car and unleashed a torrent of “Motherfuckers” that would have made Richard Pryor proud.

She continued to bash at my windows screaming “Get out! Get out!”

Hell, message recieved I’m doing my best to shift into reverse.

This can’t be a profitable pan handling technique. I’m scared. I’m willing to give her the contents of my wallet, but I’m either going to finally get out of this parking lot or die trying.

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October 10th 2009 The Bicycle Club, Bell Gardens, California
9PM – 1 AM

My roommate, Anthony, told me that my personality was likely to get me into a lot of fights at the Bike. I’m not malicious, but the plain fact is that I get bored very quickly. It’s a terrible trait to have because after all Poker is a game of patience, but that’s been the story of my life and I’m stuck being me. I played basketball for years, when I was pretty much guaranteed to be the worst player on the floor just about every time I laced up my sneakers and nothing has changed. Why try excelling at something that I have a natural talent for when I can instead keep bashing my head into other low personal ceilings that I possess. Like Anthony says, for a smart guy, I tend to be pretty damn stupid.

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On the season finale of Entourage, E and Sloane finally got their act together and got engaged.

Seriously, is there any fictional relationship less believable or inspiring than this pairing in the annals of television history? Usually, when a couple gets together on your favorite show you are happy and overjoyed at the possibility of love in a cold forsaken world. Remember how warm and tingly you felt when Chandler proposed to Monica with ”You make me happier than I ever thought I could be.” I can’t even remember what E said to Sloane. It may have been “Look, I got you a ring and that means you have to take me back.”

E essentially decided that he had to be with Sloane because he had an intense near crash with an STD. Wow, is that romantic or what?

I can’t think of a single reason in the world for Sloane to have any interest at all in E. Maybe she has a leprechaun fetish that I don’t know about. I can’t think of one moment where they seemed to be in sync or having a meaningful time or having any sexual heat of any kind.

Vince shows more romantic love banging random chicks that he’ll never see again in his pool than the entirety of the E -Sloane relationship.

Actually, it’s a fitting relationship for the blandest lead character in any television series ever. There are tons of entertaining side characters in Entourage, but E is only the huge sucking vacuum that they all revolve upon.

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http://blogcritics.org/video/article/david-letterman-likes-women-who-knew1/#

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