all the way live #11
hasn’t been a whole lot in the way of shows passing through the pittsburgh metropolitan area as of late. but like the biz says, it’s spring again, and i’m sure a few will be rolling through.
it’s times like these that take me back to my youth…when james brown samples was the new shit, like cool j on some krush groove shit, dapper dan shit, ms. pac-man shit, that's when rakim ran shit.
we must have been around 11, the Doktor and i, when we made that trek with our fifth-grade class to see the musical production of The Wiz.
yes it is a musical.
hey fuck you…i thought that shit was wildly entertaining. all smoke and crazy sunglasses, and that bitch dorothy. right after the show was over, toto bugged the fuck out with all the applause, i guess, and ran from the stage when the cast was taking a bow, scurried up the aisle, down the steps, out the door, and right into traffic. got run over by a fire truck.
classic.
but back before all that, when we were still in our classroom waiting for the bus, the Doktor leans over to me, and he’s all like, “hey, you know how you got crabs?”
and i’m all like, “i don’t like shellfish.” i do now, but i didn’t then. what do you want? i was in fifth grade.
and he’s all like, “no…crabs…creepy crawlers…crawlin’ on your nutsack. crabs.”
“oh…you have craps?”
“crabs.”
“where?”
“on your nuts.”
“crabs live in water.”
“no, buttsniffer, crabs! you get them…i don’t know. they’re like little bugs. they live on your balls.”
“that’s nasty.”
“yeah…you know how you got ‘em?”
“are they like fleas?”
“i don’t know…i guess.”
“cool.”
“yeah.”
“yeah man…you can keep them like pets. like a flea circus,” i said. “i want some crabs. i would teach them to do cool stuff.”
“like what?”
“i don’t know…ride a bike, walk a tightrope…lift some barbells. you know, flea circus stuff.”
“cool.”
“yeah man.”
“YOU TWO!!! ENOUGH WITH THE JIBBER-JABBER!!! YOU BOYS NEED TO SIT QUIETLY AND…”
“yeah sure thing, sister mary elephant.”
“what were we talking about?” the Doktor said.
“i don’t know.”
“oh yeah…my cousin…he got crabs. he told me if you take a white washcloth and wet it and put it on your balls, if you see little black spots on it, that means you have crabs.”
“so.” i didn’t realize how handy that info would be until about eight years later. “that’s nothing…guess what my cousin taught me how to do?”
“what?”
“go get me some sawdust from the pencil sharpener.”
“WAYWARD!!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH THE PENCIL SHARPENER!!! GET THAT OUT OF THERE!!! DO YOU AND JOHNNY WANT TO STAY HERE AND MISS THE MUSICAL?”
“oooooo no…don’t do that.”
“alright, watch this,” i said, and proceeded to roll up this fat, pregnant joint with a piece of notebook paper and sawdust from the pencil sharpener.
“what’s that?”
“it’s a joint.”
“what?”
“a joint. one of those funny cigarettes. a jazz stick. a bone. a nicky j. a doober. you know, a joint.”
“cool. what do you do with it?”
“light it.”
“cool…i got some matchsticks.”
“gimme one.”
i lit it and the fucker went up in flames, burned my fingers…i didn’t wanna let the teacher know what was going on, since she seemed to be all wrapped up with her coffee and this wet block of cheese she had stashed in her desk, so i did the only rational thing at that point…i threw it in my desk. it didn’t really start to smolder until the bus arrived. when we got back from The Wiz, the school had burned completely to the ground. man, that was the best field trip ever.
it’s times like these that take me back to my youth…when james brown samples was the new shit, like cool j on some krush groove shit, dapper dan shit, ms. pac-man shit, that's when rakim ran shit.
we must have been around 11, the Doktor and i, when we made that trek with our fifth-grade class to see the musical production of The Wiz.
yes it is a musical.
hey fuck you…i thought that shit was wildly entertaining. all smoke and crazy sunglasses, and that bitch dorothy. right after the show was over, toto bugged the fuck out with all the applause, i guess, and ran from the stage when the cast was taking a bow, scurried up the aisle, down the steps, out the door, and right into traffic. got run over by a fire truck.
classic.
but back before all that, when we were still in our classroom waiting for the bus, the Doktor leans over to me, and he’s all like, “hey, you know how you got crabs?”
and i’m all like, “i don’t like shellfish.” i do now, but i didn’t then. what do you want? i was in fifth grade.
and he’s all like, “no…crabs…creepy crawlers…crawlin’ on your nutsack. crabs.”
“oh…you have craps?”
“crabs.”
“where?”
“on your nuts.”
“crabs live in water.”
“no, buttsniffer, crabs! you get them…i don’t know. they’re like little bugs. they live on your balls.”
“that’s nasty.”
“yeah…you know how you got ‘em?”
“are they like fleas?”
“i don’t know…i guess.”
“cool.”
“yeah.”
“yeah man…you can keep them like pets. like a flea circus,” i said. “i want some crabs. i would teach them to do cool stuff.”
“like what?”
“i don’t know…ride a bike, walk a tightrope…lift some barbells. you know, flea circus stuff.”
“cool.”
“yeah man.”
“YOU TWO!!! ENOUGH WITH THE JIBBER-JABBER!!! YOU BOYS NEED TO SIT QUIETLY AND…”
“yeah sure thing, sister mary elephant.”
“what were we talking about?” the Doktor said.
“i don’t know.”
“oh yeah…my cousin…he got crabs. he told me if you take a white washcloth and wet it and put it on your balls, if you see little black spots on it, that means you have crabs.”
“so.” i didn’t realize how handy that info would be until about eight years later. “that’s nothing…guess what my cousin taught me how to do?”
“what?”
“go get me some sawdust from the pencil sharpener.”
“WAYWARD!!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH THE PENCIL SHARPENER!!! GET THAT OUT OF THERE!!! DO YOU AND JOHNNY WANT TO STAY HERE AND MISS THE MUSICAL?”
“oooooo no…don’t do that.”
“alright, watch this,” i said, and proceeded to roll up this fat, pregnant joint with a piece of notebook paper and sawdust from the pencil sharpener.
“what’s that?”
“it’s a joint.”
“what?”
“a joint. one of those funny cigarettes. a jazz stick. a bone. a nicky j. a doober. you know, a joint.”
“cool. what do you do with it?”
“light it.”
“cool…i got some matchsticks.”
“gimme one.”
i lit it and the fucker went up in flames, burned my fingers…i didn’t wanna let the teacher know what was going on, since she seemed to be all wrapped up with her coffee and this wet block of cheese she had stashed in her desk, so i did the only rational thing at that point…i threw it in my desk. it didn’t really start to smolder until the bus arrived. when we got back from The Wiz, the school had burned completely to the ground. man, that was the best field trip ever.
Johnny St. Clair wuz here at 11:58 PM
2 Comments:
YOU IS A CRAZY MOTHERFUCKER
http://www.wimp.com/gino/
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