This is why Men watch the UFC

Hello, My name is Jokey Jokemaker, and I have a theory on why men watch the UFC.  my theory is called Aryanny Celeste.   Yeah there are crazy knockouts, awesome jujuitsu, and crazy chokeholds but C'MON...........LOOK AT HER!  Thank you,

JJ



There is a Serial Killer preying on rappers

Hello Friends,

     It is I, Jokey Jokemaker, back to put the word on the streets.   it seems that Chicago Police Superintendent Jody Weiss just rapped up a press conference.  In it, he discusses the possibility of a serial killer trageting famous rappers.  I laughed and said "streets is watchin son, snitches get stiches!"  Then, he went into detail about how a serial killer could have, and did carry out the summary murders of several famous rappers.  The conference comes on the heels of another whack ass wanna be rapper trying to get street credibility and getting himself shot and killed. 

Yesterday, a rapper named Dolla Dolla Billy-O  got shot and killed at Beverly Center on 95th.   Later the police arrested the first black man they could find at the nearest liquuor store carrying a gun named Tyrone Shybobo Brookins and charged him with the crime.

"This is just one in a long line of killings committed by the rapper serial killer."  Weiss said.  The Jew media might say otherwise but we all know the Jew media is biased and hates rappers because they always put pretend newscasters in music videos and have them say stupid stuff and show that they “don’t know what its like on the streets, streets is watching, and stakes is high."  Jews have no idea what thats about, and it frightens them.  Jews are also more prone to think of the Jew Rap Group The BEASTIE BOYS, when the subject of rap music comes up in discussion over the Passover Saeder. 

Here’s a list of rappers who may have died at the hands of the rapper serial killer:

Tupac Shakur

 While vacationing in Las Vegas and pretty much just minding his own damn business the suspected serial killer of rappers drove up next to his car and dumped mad heat on them fools (shot it many times for the whities out there). Many non-rappers were in the car and were unharmed. Tupac dies from many dry roasters from hot toasters.

 Notorious BIG

After attending the Ethnic Urban Vibe awards in Los Angeles, Big Poppa (He loves it when you call him Big Poppa) was shot in his SUV. Puff Daddy was also in the SUV but the serial killer spared his life since pretty much nobody considers him a serious rapper.  I mean, in terms of beats he is sick, but as a lyricist, he is a fucking ass clown. 


Lisa “Left Eye” Lopez

I know what you are thinking, but it makes sense.  Chilli was the hot singer, T-boz has sickle cell anemia, and had a smokey i wanna rack you then go out for sushi look in her eyes, and Lisa Lopez AKA Left eye, had condoms on her person at most times and rap/sang over tight ass songs.  She was like the Female Puff Daddy, but since she was promiscious, we put up with her.  Left Eye was driving her car in Venezuela when she was shot at and forced over a cliff.  Suspects included Local Insurgents, Johnner Londono, and Clive Davis, head of TLC rival  Arista Records.    The RSK did not bother to finish her off because she was in fucking Venezuala.  I mean, she was super duper fucked.  All they got in those parts is bananas and club colombia beer.  In Venezuela, she had a better chance of a banana and taco truck coming to save her than an actual medical ambulance, and the RSK knew this. She died from her injuries and monkey bites.

Eazy “Motherfucking” Eric Wright A.K.A Eazy-E

While relaxing in his Los Angeles home the RSK came in and killed the NWA star with several shotgun blasts using pellets laced with the HIV virus he had stolen from Magic Johnson.  Since shotguns shoot several buckshot pellets bullets at once tiny ass Eazy-E was only able to avoid like 60% of them.  The other 40% inflicted grave injury and AIDS.  Since Eazy ain't no bitch, he showered and watched the Joy Luck Club on his home theatre screen, had a few Cosmopolitans, and smoked some primo weed.  Eventually after smoking copiuos amounts of weed, he left to the hospital but the RSK had sabotaged his ford escort steering wheel with a lubricant substance and Eazy E's hands slipped off the steering wheel and he drove into a gangster moose that had been hanging around a looking suspicious and shit in South Central Los Angeles California and bumped his head.  he later died of AIDS, a head bruise, and Shotgun pellets in his ass.

Old Dirty Bastard

While the Osirus of this shit was eating at a fast food joint, the killer slipped some poison called CHOLESTEROL into a bbq bacon cheeseburger Dirty was eating and while that alone didn’t kill him after eating the cheesebuger the RSK offered to share some “choice coke” with dirty and the combination of being qa fat ass and dope fiend killed him. To add insult to Big Baby Jesus, the killer ate his steak fries that he hadn’t finished earlier. Wu-tang is here forever motherfuckers, but too much cholesterol will get you perished pretty damn quick.

I’m sure there are lots of others that I haven’t investigated yet. I bet if a serial killer was killing Taylor Swift or John Mayer, the police would get off their fat donut asses  and go find that guy.

One love,

Jokey Jokemaker
I'm crazy hip hop

RSK 2 for 2 with these guys

Things that make me say "Eh."

I meet a friend for drinks and we drink and talk into the wee hours. I wake up with a sinking feeling that something went wrong and that I drove home drunk again. I rewind back to the part where we started talking about politics and philosophy, and this chick was there (who the hell was she?), and identify the moment I became the asshole-me. I run the situation by a mutual friend and they say, “yeah you can get like that”, and my only response is “Yeah whatever— they still like me”


Every few weeks I collect all of the change in my car in a plastic bag and give it to a bag lady or bag gentleman. Invariably, they always look at the mixture that has more copper than silver like it’s a piece of dog shit and ask if I could spare “a few more bucks”


I attempt to relate a sketch I saw on Youtube to a friend and half way through I begin to sense that it won’t translate and change the subject. They notice. Serves me right for trying to hard to live up to my reputation as "funny fuck."

LeBron's monthly bitchfest October edition

I took the espn article, and jokeyfied it a bit. 

Chuck.E.Cheeses, MIAMI - There’s something that you might want to understand about LeBron James as he gets ready to start the season. He is a bitch.  It’s something he may deny publicly but which goes right to the heart of what you can expect to see out of him on a nightly basis.

A part of James is hurting. And it is changing him. And it is driving him like he’s never been driven before.
At the core, that is why this week James shared some of the hateful and racist tweets he’s been getting. He wants people to know that he reads and hears the still-massive volume of venom. And he wants them to know he’s going to feed on that energy.   But mostly he just wants the bad people to leave him alone and not be so talented so he can win an NBA title.  Whether all of that ends up in a championship season depends on so many factors, many of which no one can foresee. Well, the one factor that even Stevie Wonder can see is Lebron won't win shit unless Dwayne Wade and Chris Bosh play like madmen, and take pressure off of LBJ.

James has found motivation from various sources before, this isn’t a normal preseason template. This is the first time you are going to see him motivated, at least in significant part, by hate.  On Wednesday, James said the hatred he reads on a regular basis on his Twitter feed “doesn’t affect me at all.” But that isn’t the complete truth. He may ignore a lot of it, but he’s also taking some of it in and letting it fester.  He will cry, then sniffle, the cry some more, then have his chin get all fidgety and shit, then sob, then snifle, and then get mad. 

Anyone who has spent significant time around James understands how highly aware he is. In fact, his awareness is one of his best attributes. Most can see it simply on the court, where he’s able to dart passes to teammates, read plays, jump passing lanes and figure out angles for chase-down blocks. With such keen awareness, James has heard the hecklers in the crowd over the years and responded to them often. He knows, by peeking at side scoreboards, if he was not given an assist when he felt he deserved one and sends an objection to the stats crew. He’ll know who the coach is about to bring into the game. In interview sessions, he’ll scan the crowd to identify the reporters and prepare for certain lines of questioning.
Once in a game during James’ rookie year, he was waiting to check in at the scorer’s table when a voice caught his attention. A female fan in the front row was calling to him, yelling “Lee-Bron.” As he got up to check in, he leaned over to a person at the scorer’s table and said: “Tell her it is pronounced ‘La-Bron.’”
As he was doing it, he looked over at the opposing bench and saw the coach make a hand signal. A second after he finished giving his pronunciation request, he trotted onto the court and informed his bench the other team was switching to a zone defense.  he then passed it to a teammate who shot and missed, costing the team the victory.
Yep. he is aware like a motherfucker, he just has no heart.  Awareness?  TONS. Heart?  Zip Zero.

That is how James operates. He consumes information and processes it in remarkable time. In his mansion outside his hometown of Akron, one of James’ favorite rooms has an entire wall of TVs. On off nights, he enjoys watching every NBA game that is going on. Often all at once. Perhaps a college game or two, as well. Maybe even some old reruns of Everybody Loves Raymond, a little Korean BBQ, a little Kiwi Strawberry Mad Dog 20/20.  As he watches, he can sometimes predict plays before they happen because of how he knows the league and its personnel. He’s been known to call out a play, such as a backdoor lob, before it happens. It is because he’s always watching and reading and absorbing.   He is used to the Cleveland Cavs's one page playbook titled "For the LOVE OF GOD GET IT TO LEBRON!"

When getting stretched out before games or after workouts, James will often listen to music and rap and sing and dance and act like a cracked out juke artist dancing for change.  Sometimes while cycling through two Blackberries sending texts and reading the Internet looking for evidence that people like him at the same time, he will dispatch assistants into the crowd to ask people if they still love him. He reads the box scores. And the transactions. And the rumor pages to see if people like him. For more than a year, James resisted the urging of friends to start using Twitter, saying he wanted to keep making sure people liked him. He relented in July, just in time for several hundred thousand people to get a direct line to him. When he was asked Wednesday why he even looks at his responses, something that is just an option in the Twitter program, he basically said he has to see if people like him.

“Once in a blue moon, you need to see that no matter how many good things you do, you’re going to have people that downplay the things you do, and sometimes, they don't like you” James said. That awareness and those consumption habits simply didn’t allow him to get through the summer without feeling a significant portion of the backlash of his decision to come to Miami. Sure, he knew that in Cleveland he would face an angry and intense reaction. But, according to friends, he was taken aback by the national response and the very notion that people do not like him.

And yet he kept taking it in, kept reading, listening and watching. A month after signing with the Heat, James fired off a tweet verifying that. He wrote, “Don't think for one min that I haven't been taking mental notes of everyone taking shots at me this summer. And I mean everyone!  I know who does not like me!”

He’s still taking notes and still reading at least some of the hundreds of negative Twitter messages that come in by the day. And there’s no doubt he’ll listen to the hecklers who are sure to arrive nightly, especially in the cities where he turned down contract offers over the summer. More racist messages arrived Wednesday afternoon after James talked publicly about the Twitter responses. There also were plenty of messages of support, and James surely reads and sometimes even retweets those, as well.

But in all those negative vibes seem to have some effect. This preseason James has been more withdrawn than in the past, putting some of his trademark bombastic personality away. There isn’t as much laughter. There isn’t as much horseplay. So far, there’s been no sign of dancing. Frankly, it appears to the observer that there isn’t as much fun. Shitty commercials? Check.  Fun?  Nope.

James does seem happy with his decision to come to the Heat. He’s said that playing alongside Dwyane Wade and Chris Bosh, even for the little time he’s been on the floor with them, has been uplifting. But his hardened demeanor is unmistakable.  He is bothered by the simple fact that people do not like him. 

I  believe that is exactly what James needs; there was plenty of criticism over how James seemed to be too loose the past few years in Cleveland. He led teamwide goofing around in the regular season but didn’t seem to bring enough intensity at times when a ruthless personality seemed necessary in the playoffs. Only time and games and pressure will tell if that has changed within James. But something certainly has in his first few weeks in South Beach. This is a more edgy and focused James. And all the hatred he’s taking in certainly appears to be the leading cause.  It also helps that the Cav Teammate that was bangin his mom is hundreds of miles away.



 Jokey Jokemaker
ESPN Terrorist

Things that make me say "Eh"

I read a thread in a message board I read occasionally. It angers me to no end. The last several months I’ve been preparing for the moment to unleash a venemous tirade. I write a biting response and click ‘post’. Everything slows down when the site demands my login name and password. I don’t have one. I start to make one and suddenly wonder if I’m proud enough of my beliefs and my current fire to use my real name or anything identifying as my handle. I decide “Koala_Bears_Lover324” will work for now.


I start a screenplay about a drug derived from a bacterium (like Botox; which is botulism). This bacterium is developed by a company similar to Con-Agra, to make cows and chickens really hungry. So they grow real big. Well-meaning scientists begin giving it to cancer patients and other people who don’t feel hungry anymore. The bacteria spreads to the general public and people get so hungry they begin eating anything and everything. The buffets are packed. On page 36 a guy upset over the food shortage eats a fat woman’s hand because it was holding a stick of chewing gum. She freaks out like “gimme my fucking wedding ring back”. I told someone whom I don’t like that much about it, and they weren’t impressed. Sort of like the 80’s movie The Stuff, I explained. They hadn’t seen it and I sensed they believed I made up that movie to justify the shitty movie I just told them I made up. So i spend the next half hour trying to impress someone i dislike and then fucking bail on the whole project.


I look through my CDs and remove a few because they are indicative of a time or phase that has come and gone, and are now embarrassing. I wonder if anyone else does this, and decide that “no, nobody else does that” and am ashamed at my vanity and slash and burn music tastes. Some are indefensible, but others like Duran Duran-Medazzaland is understandable. Isn’t it?


After saying hello to a neighbor, I’m obligated to always say hello. As time goes on I become stressed thinking of new ways to say ‘hello’: to not look idiotic and programmed to only say “hey what’s up?” or “how’s it going?”. I notice “good morning” sounds sincere and quaint..even old timey. “Good afternoon” sounds dour. This last time, I clenched up and stared at my cell phone pretending to punch in numbers.

Things that make me say "Eh."

When your office pal approaches you to buy some candy in oversized packages for his kid’s school fundraiser. You jokingly bargain and scoff at the price. He’s not amused. It’s for his kid's summer camp. He calls you a dick, and while paying 4 bucks for a candy bar, you lament the fact that you will never go to summer camp again.

When I quote a movie line from a cool but obscure flick as if it’s my own. I always fear the recipient has seen the movie. What was I thinking anyhow? How well could it have gone?  Did they watch the movie? Fuck!

On a Friday night you wait for the barrage of phone calls and text messages that never arrive. The deadline for doing something and sitting home like a loser is close, but it could go any way. You decide you’ll let it figure itself out, get dressed to go, but turn on the Dog the Bounty Hunter show on A&E. Have a beer. Someone calls in an unattractive offer and you turn it down.

I look up an old classmate who I always hated, more secretly than openly. I wish to myself that he were doing badly, with nobody who loves him. Turns out he works an average job, and has a perky looking wife, great rack, who he takes nice pictures with. But you can see the tension there, underneath, I think.  Smoldering tension.   

You think of a great idea for a short story and begin writing it. You’ll adapt the screenplay later. All at once you realize your great idea is two great scenes, and is naked and threadbare without context and support. You believe the drudgery: the editing, poroofing, rewriting, the nuts and bolts, of a short story are below you and you say fuck it and bail on the project. It would certainly take an astute and thorough individual to recognize your genius. 

While watching TV in the waiting room at Jiffy Lube, another customer around my age makes a snide comment about the show on the courtesy TV set. I laugh and make a follow up joke. He reinforces it with a separate but similar example. Then we both look and wait for an opportunity to be funny and smart at the show’s expense. Oddly, it never exposes itself in the same manner. Like it heard what we had said. We are nervous and the other customers seem to be waiting on us. The pressure is too much. Man, when will they finish my car, he says. Seconds later a technician comes in. “Fox?” he announces. I rise and finish my oil-change business normally and say nothing else to appease the group. The bumper music plays, and then the voice-over announces what is coming up next. “This show isn’t so bad” my partner in crime says. “Yeah” I say.

"I'm watching Rugby"

You ever hear that before? Yeah me neither. I tried watching this one time and all I saw was a bunch of buff ass white dudes running around in no discernable pattern with a giant ass mush football. You would think there was more hitting involved, because you know, that's all they tell you that happens, but NO! Just a bunch of guys running around, then a guy pooch punts it to another guy hoping to hit is guy or kicking it through poles that resemble Quidditch rings from Harry Potter. I am know it is huge in other countries and hey, i am all for sports. I dig Water Polo and even Cricket is interesting, but Rugby? I just dont see it. If it is a way for men to prove they are tough because they will run into each other and dog pile on one another, then that's cool I guess. I just call it the Turkey Bowl when we get together and play tackle football without pads.

What was that? Would I play rugby? NO! I would also not run into a car. I wouldnt go up to Brock Lesnar and ask him where his neck is at, and if the steroids have rendered him a eunuch. I am definitely not standing in the way of a 100 MPH...but hey that's just me. I will stick with them boring joints that dont require me to mindlessly run into a dog pile or wear unnaturally tight shorts and shirts.

Until next time kids...back to you THR!

-iz3y!

Bon Jovi - You give love a bad name

This is whats wrong with basketball

Hello my friends, it is I, The handsome righthander.  I have returned to show regret in the passing fo good basketball.  Evidence of it can be seen everywhere.  First, the New York Knicks suck for years, and they tank on purpose for 2 years in order to land LeBron, and wind up with Amare Stoudamire?  Then, in an off-season with mega free agents, Joe Johnson winds up withthe biggest contract?  Joe Johnson?  Are you kidding me?  Lebron decides that being the third option on a star-studded team will result in him earning respect and  admiration for being a champion.  The Knicks still suck, and they look to add Carmelo Anthony and Chris Paul, two players who need the ball 75% of the time to be effective.  Unless the Knicks run 150% of the plays through those guys, they will suck for evermore. 

Next we go to Firestone Fieldhouse at Pepperdine University.  Why Pepperdine?  Because I have not ever heard of "you- cla"   or U C L A.  In the clip, we see a 6-3 player dunk over seven people, the crowd goes nuts, and they are awarded the championship automatically.  Wait, no, they are not.  Last Year Keion Bell averaged 21 points, mostly on dunks.  And he was dominant in leading his team to a 7-24 record.  In other words, they sucked donkey balls like the Green Bay Packers, or the aforementioned New York Knicks.  This guy is all dunk, no fundamentals.  This guy is like Ronnie Fields for the new generation.  I predict he has a 2 yr NBA careers because his defense and freethrows suck, and he goes on to amaze crowds at the NBDA, And 1 mixtape tour, and your local Boys and Girls Club in that order.  In the mean time, I will lament the shift towards athletic but morally corrupt individuals, and away from winning a championship with teamwork and defense.  All that being said, the dunk was nice, but he pulled a Miles Austin and catapulted over the tallest guy using his hands.  Also, he dunked over a midget, so that should only count as half a person.  If it were a gnome, or dwarf, it would have been spectacular.   

Rock and Roll reached its peak in 1993

Hello Friends,

     It is I, Raphael De La Ghetto, back again to sing the praises of 1993's Songs of Faith and Devotion by Depeche Mode.  1993 was a good year.  The president was sleeping with many ladies upsetting his husband Hillary.  The ecomony was robust.  90's excess was greater than the 80's excess, but tinged with a bit of grunge.  Depeche Mode decided to move to Spain, and hope their drug-addicted frontman would make it thorugh the 2 year touring schedule.  This album was rockier, and the suggestion of half the band, notably,. the half of the band that either left the group, or tried suicide a few times.  From that train wreck, came the best album of Depeche Mode's discography.  You may frwon and fret and scream to the heavens that Exciter or Violator was just as good, but thats cause you don't know shit about shit.

"I Feel You" – 4:35

The song starts out with a needle being pulled off a record, which jars you to attention, and seduces you slowly with sexy rock guitars.  Four minutes and 35 seconds later, you are smiocking a cigarette wondering where that came from. 
"Walking in My Shoes" – 5:35
Dave Gahans' rich baritone finds a home here singing what could easily be the theme song to any youung teenager's life.  The imagery of crazy stork-legged birds with crazy scissor beaks in videos only serves to cement this catchy song in your mind. 

"Condemnation" – 3:20
The familiar churchysong found on every Depeche Mode cd.  This one is catchier than most, and lets the lead singer wallow in a sadness and pity that would become a part of his turbulent life later on.  Who knew?    
"Mercy in You" – 4:17
Dramatic hooks, desperate lyrics, and a time-tested story of sin and redemption.  The fuzz guitar and backwards piano chords really work well.  Plus, I think there was some cowbell in here somewhere. 

"Judas" – 5:14
The sappy "song that is about a biblical story but set in modern times with only cursory allusions to the source bilical story," song.  This one is nice and quiet, and is usually sung by the Band leader Martin Gore, alone on stage, wearing a sexually ambiguous costume, while the rest of the band goes to have a beer and a toss. 

"In Your Room" – 6:26
Here we get back to the sexy/dance sound.  The guitars really work on this track and the reverb editing make it sound unique and very familiar all at once.  This had more studio work done on it than 3 T-Pain cd's.  It sounds like it was written in a dark room that was underwater in the desert next to a stable of pegasus horses and delicious ponies. 
"Get Right with Me" – 3:52
its ok.

"Rush" – 4:37
Here we get the last aggressive song on the cd.  Its sexually forward, powerful, and all-encompassing.  Its kind of like getting attacked by a sexy snake.  Ah yeah, i loves the sexy slither of the female snake. 
"One Caress" – 3:32
Classicly-preformed orchestral song that really works more because its a radically different sound on a rock cd song.  It is beautifully done, and coming off of the last song, is a great change of pace track.
"Higher Love" – 5:56
The last song on the cd is one of the better ones.  Its starts slowly, and is unabashedly all about getting with your loved one to the next level in a physical relationship.  Try to listen to this track, and not picture a hyge silvery ass.  Its no secret that Depeche Mode like this meed-setting track.  They liked it so much, they started their Live Concert dvd Devotional, with this song.

a young, impressionable Jokey Jokemaker
1993
Faithful and Devoted

I just invested in a silver mine in Africa

I was struck with an overwhelming urge to buy Silver.  SILVER, I NEED SILVER.........aarrrrggghhhhhhh.  MMMMMMM, silver. 

Bad Boys 3?

My buddy Herschel Schlomo Goldberg, helped me scoop this story about none other than Denzel Washington starring with Will Smith in Bad Boys 3.  It seems the two met while participating in a threesome with Jada Pinkett Smith, and they hit it off.  The movie fell apart after the actors spent 10 minutes in the same room without a naked Jada Pinkett Smith between them.  See the actors discuss it for themselves. 

Raphael De La Ghetto
Papparazzo 

Baby Makin Music

Hello my friends,

     It is I, Raphael De La Ghetto.  I am back this week to discuss Robert Palmer.  he died like 5 years ago, but he lives on in my Ipod.   lot of people do not know this, but he had more than 2 or 3 songs released.  Take for example, I didn't Mean To Turn You On.  Song is so damn good, you can't help but dance.  Everybody knows it, and they forget that Robert Palmer was an english gentleman in life, and a bad motherfucker on the stage. His pimp hand was way strong.  You play this song a few times, and sombody's getting pregnant!
.

Beautiful idiots are gullible

"Sure Kim, rub some silver paint on your naked body, we sell that shit as art."

check out my friend's sports blog

http://www.celiochicagosports.blogspot.com/

i mixed it up....now what?

There i was, wearing the DJ headphones...barely making out what was going on. The DJ had slinked off to smoke a cigarette and i was staring at decks and CDs. DECKS AND CDs!!!!!

What to do what to do? Well i grab the headphones, plopped them on and went to work. In my mind I was the rebirth of Keoki! I was going to break out a crown and cape and just throw down at this small party. Call me DJ 13ROK5! I was smoking hot. I was grooving and people were moving.

in reality i was playing CD then another. I was hanging on for dear life. I was scrambling for songs I knew and since it was a smooth 4 hours into this gala fest to drinking, i was searching for stuff that hadnt been played. It was tough. Then I fell victim to the request line, a girl asking for a great song that was 1/4 of the tempo than the previous one. I let a track run to the end. I even had a drunkard start scratching while i was setting up the next song. Transitions? Well again, i was hanging on for dear life, but hey, i got the next song on!

Moral of the story...FUCK IT. That shit was fun as hell. I have been listening to mixes since I was little and this was awesome. I sucked. SUCKED royally, like when someone first picks up a bat or a white boy dancing salsa with no rhythm. Like that white boy though..I HAD A BLAST!! I even went home with a girl...i mean i came with two, but still!

follow your dreams young ones!

-iz3y!
Snoog Doggy Dogg - Murder was the case

Have you ever eaten Pony? Its my favorite circus meat!

I agree it aint the first meat that comes to mind when I wake up, but i'll be damned if its the last. Now i've had more than enough of your 'run of the mill meats; cow, bison, veal, etc.  And i've tempted my tongue with more outgoing meats like gazelle and kangaroo. Heck, i've even struggled through the unpopular cave meats (bat, shallow pool eel jerky) in Africa. Those flavors are all rich and unique, but, by far, my favorite meat is Pony.


Not only is it the finest of Circus meats, Pony is a very resilient animal (far more resilient than a horse) due to its low center of gravity, and hoof density, and it is a meet that science will tell you would IMMEDIATELY become popular if armageddon were to occur. it tastes just like horse, but younger and more impudent.  I can't say that its easy to come by, and i can't say that each bite won't remind you of a birthday party you went to as a child,  or a trip to the local swap meet in Joliet over by the Peruvian guys who play the pan flute and sell Peruvian indeigenous art at exorbitant prices.  I feel the need to proclaim pony as one of the more underrated meats of our generation.  So tonight, as you fill your belly with pony meat, be glad that we live in a world where we are on top of the food chain. 

Jokey Jokemaker
Future Mayor of Chicago

What to do when a brawl breaks out.....

Hey, i am sure you have seen the recent baseBRAWLS or have check out past ones. Well anyway, i was almost involved in one and I thought to myself...OH SHIT...What is the ettiquette here? Do I lay someone out? Play Peacemaker? Should i lay back in the cut and comment on it?

Well, i figured why not let these scenarios and play out you all tell me!

SCENARIO: CO-ED softball game (yes, start laughing now); our 220lbs Puerto Rican 3B is being instigated by a ranting lunatic from the other team. The other cat stands 210, but all kinds of misplaced weight...(read fat!). They are about to get face to face. Our PR teammate is about to surrounded by a 230lb firstbasemen, a 140lb guy holding back the 210 lunatic, and we are on the other side of the field......

ROUTE #1: LAY SOMEONE THE FUCK OUT!!!

Yeah, this seems like the most bad ass thing to do. I am a smooth 5'8" pushing 200lbs when i snack hard, so i could most likely run into someone with my fist or foot and do some damage. Shit, with enough steam i should be able to do something!!! I had the lunatic's back to me so my first option is smash this guy. I mean i have a good 60feet of running room, bats at my disposal, and cleats on to get good grip that would launch melike a missile. Potential Jailtime...sure. Potential rep booster: significant!!! In my head, I am thinking I am knocking him out like Mike Fucking Tyson in Hangover...except it would have been an extreme sucker punch. Potential hit to rep for such a pussy move: SIGNIFICANT! Plus I still had the 240lb firstbasemen lurking. Does Alex the PR get my back or I am now facing round two against this tatted up hoss, after laying his friend out like a blow up clown? I should have just grabbed two bats in one hand because i hear that's the bad ass thing to do nowadays.

ROUTE #2: PEACEMAKER!!!

I could run quickly to Alex and grabbed him and shove him back. By shove I mean lightly push him back. The whole time running I would have to be wondering if I was gonna get clocked by that 240lbs behemoth. Serious...look at it from his point of view. His teammate is 'roid raging out and here comes this mexican charging full steam behind him. I could have been carrying a knife or something! Now once there, now what? Arent I in a position to go 2 on 3? If the shit goes down, am I ready? Do i continue to dodge blow after body blow, then unleash holy hell? Basically as a peacemaker, you only hope you can get your friend without someone testing your jaw. At least as the agressor i get that one clean shot. Peacemaker...you just never know.

ROUTE #3: FIGHT COMMENTATOR

This occurred to me later that this might have been the best possible choice for the blog. I could have filmed the fight, and gotten many more details. I could have made made ridiculous jokes, and instigated an even bigger fight. Sure there is the potential people might think i am a pussy, but hey, at least i am not getting clocked in the back of the head trying to stop a fight, or going to jail because i laid out a punk and went toe to toe with a 240lbs behemoth. Still...that whole being a pussy gnaws away at my soul.

"hey dad, how do you fight?" -son

"uhh...no fucking idea son..i usually just sit back in the cut and comment" -father

"are you really my dad? Damn..." -son


Yeah...that kind of stings doesnt it!

Outcome:
I clearly went with PEACEMAKER...i mean I wasnt fighting no one, but I had to look like i was down for whatever. I hustled over there and grabbed my boy and pushed him back. The 240 Juggernaut let me live and actually one week later, the bar that sponsored them hooked up a round of beers on the house! What about you guys...what route would you take?

-iz3y!
"B7...-STREET FIGHTING MAN!!!"