From the Appalachians: Screams of sunset

The sun is going down for the day here in the Apps.  It’s been an interesting day.  I’ve seen a  lot.  I’m tired.  I hear screaming, but I’m not moving another inch.

Someone should’ve told that to the teen from Connecticut.  All screams aren’t bad screams.  Some noises are good noises. 

Did you hear about it?  Girl misheard her mother’s screams as if she was in distress, so she rounded up her posse and busted into her mother’s room, only to see that she was getting chopped down, or having her back blowed out by her boyfriend.  Well, they thought he was assaulting her, so they beat his arse. 

Only in Connecticut. 

Moral of the story?  Lock the door the next time. 

Truth

From the Appalachians: How to get off

Shhhhh.

You don’t want to alert them that we can hear them.  There is no get off like getting off in the Apps.  Well, unless you’re getting off in Missouri. 

The woman who pranked the teen girl on MySpace and ultimately led to her suicide, was acquitted today by a jerdge.

Lori Drew won’t be doing any hard time, thanks to “your honor”.  Stevie Wonder wrote, “Isn’t she lovely”.  I’m blogging, “Isn’t she lucky?”

Moral of the story?  Tricks are for kids.  The internets is for adults.

Source

From the Apps: KC’s Drew Peterson goes to court

There is something that is hard to bear out here in the Appalachians.  Whenever you hear of loss of life, you want justice to prevail.  Unfortunately, justice takes time to come full circle.  Such as in the case of Renee Pernice. 

Pernice is the classic MWWS at it’s finest.  White lady comes up missing, the community comes out in force looking to find her, all the while the husband fits the bill as the “he done it”.  Yet, in this country, white dudes get the benefit of the doubt before they’re brought to justice.  If you’re a black guy within 100 feet of a MWWS, you’re coming in for questioning. 

Shon Pernice is that low-down husband of Renee’s.  He’s the scumbag that has managed to avoid any connection with his wife’s disappearance (presumed death). 

The thing that always amazes me is that white guy with missing wife always throws the line that, “she ran off with some guy from the internets”.  Can’t they come up with something better than that?  I know white women can be really crazy and on edge, but they don’t generally take off from the kids and the husband for new meat.  If she’s got to get out of there, she’s taking her kids too. 

Well, Drew Peterson finally got pimped by the system and now he’s behind bars.  How much longer before KC mand’s up and gets Pernice off the streets?

Any day now.

From the Appalachian Trail: Nothing to see here

The raw beauty that is out here in the Appalachians is amazing.  I can’t tell you how much this trip has done for me.  I am doing my best to catalogue everything that happens here.  Unfortunately, none of this compares to what’s going on back at home.

I should stay out here and celebrate Independence Day in the wild.  Yet, I don’t have all of the necessary cooking tools to pull that off.  I mean, you can just stop and sit just about anywhere for an impromptu picnic.  This sure beats going to a killer of a park in Kansas City.

Did you hear about all the arsenic that was caked up on those old picnic tables at some of the area’s parks?  Oh yeah.  While they’re blasting the KCPD for paying for a fleet of cars that are sitting in a parking garage, how about the Parks and Recreation department do something about those old arse tables that are full of arsenic?

I know, one thing at a time.  We need to get rid of the worthless mayor first, right?  That dude is holding on to that job like Michael Jackson held on to a crooked doctor.

I won’t be going to none of those foul parks in KC, but you can go.  Just make sure you don’t eat off the table.

Moral of the story?  Don’t nit pick a picnic.

From the Appalachians: You call that normal?

Out here in the thicket of the Appalachian Trail, I have found such peace that it is hard to think of life in the big city. Yet, thanks to this Crackberry, I continue to get the news from Killa City forwarded to me. 

Some guy is trying to figure out how a bullet managed to pierce his chest amid what he termed was a “normal conversation”.  That’s a new one for me.  Even out here in the wild.  Now, if a bear or something rolls up on me, I’m going to put a bullet into him.  Well, a BB, actually.  Courtesy of Walmart. 

Several days ago, TKC noted that KC could be numb to the murders.  I mean, they are almost as common as new births.  Just as one family is passing the word that Shannon and Bryce just had the baby, another is passing the word that “it done happened to Ricky, girl”.  That is a shame.  We celebrate the arrival of a new life and we “oh well” a premature death. 

They say all of this happened during an exchange of nicotine, which leads me to my Moral of the Story.

“He got smoked.”

Via

From the Appalachians: Crazy white woman

All I was trying to do was get to work.  I didn’t want any troubles.  Don’t get in my way, and I won’t get in yours. 

I must admit, the Appalachians have been very kind to yours truly.  The smell of city life is behind me.  Unfortunately, I ran into the aroma of a crazy white woman who’s got little time and is too important. 

I heard about the wreck on I-435 near Gregory Blvd this morning.  From the looks of it, it constipated the interstate for a minute.  Well, to make a long story short, it didn’t affect me.  However, that crazy white woman in the Toyota sure did. 

Two things pop out when someone is driving a nice car really slow on the highway.  They’re either on the cell or they’re lost.  Today, I found a third.  How about talking on the cell and writing on papers on the steering wheel….at the same time!!!?!?!!

Instantly, I began to give her the Obama eye as I had to go around her.  I than looked into the rearview mirror and noticed she was weaving from lane to lane.  Look, if you’re THAT busy, do your work at home or leave early and arrive alive.  Why put the rest of us in jeopardy because you don’t have your personal matters in order?  Heck, buy a freaking bluetooth and just be driving and writing. 

I thought that was the end of it.  No sir.  No maam.  I then ended up behind another slow driver.  Ten miles under the speed limit in the left lane was what she was doing.  My water started to boil.  By the time I got past her, she had a phone up to her ear too.  Idiot.

The only saving grace out of the gear grinding drive today was a bit of normalcy.  I thought I encountered a black woman doing the same stuff in her SUV.

No maam. 

She was normal. 

She was eating while she was driving.

From the Appalachians: Drugs are for dummies

Talk about a weird dude. 

Michael Jackson was a drug abuser.  I’m sure he was many other things, but this one thing we do know, he doesn’t deserve any adoration or praise heaped on him in his death.  Let me make sure that you understand, he was a drug abuser. 

You teach kids that drugs are bad, right?  Wrong.  We tell them that crack is whack.  We tell them that coke is a joke.  You say you don’t need weed.  These are the common drugs that most people outside of Independence (MO) get hooked on.  We know what Independence is famous for. 

Michael was in a league of his own.  He didn’t mess around with those gateway drugs.  Oh no.  He was a high rolling drug head.  He played with the dangerous stuff.  The stuff that you and I have never heard of. 

Just look at his picture.  It tells you everything you want to know about him.  They talk about that “skin condition” that he had.  I don’t know about you, but he’s the first black dude that I’ve ever seen who has turned white.  The last guy was Eddie Murphy, for a SNL skit back in the day. 

Side question.  When the funeral home works on his body, will they add color back to his skin from all that bleaching he did?

If what people are saying is true, this guy wanted to die.  He complained he couldn’t get to sleep.  Maybe he needed a 12 year-old to jump in bed with him to bring on some REM sleep.  I don’t know.  One thing I do know, he needs to be remembered as a drug abusing idiot. 

Jacko’s choice of drugs included stuff that you wouldn’t get unless you were in a hospital and due to go down for surgery.  I have been put under several times.  I look forward to it, but I have also been a little skittish when the anesthesiologist (sp) comes in to explain his/her procedure.  In short, they’re letting you know that what they’re putting in your system is serious business and if you’ve had problems with it in the past, you could very well die.

So, they drop the drips into the IV and next thing you know, you’re feeling real good.  You’re out, the doctor does their work, and you come to in the recovery room.  You’re still a little groggy.  You’re still foggy.  You either get discharged or sent to a room.  You can sleep like a baby.  Once the stuff wears off from your system, then you return to yourself.  You don’t expect to feel like that again, unless you have another procedure.

Not Michael Jackson.

He wanted that fleeting feeling as much as possible.  For the right price, he could get that feeling.  Money makes people do the darndest things.  Someone will take the cash, turn their head, and practically allow you to do harm to yourself.  MJ had all kinds of people around him who would do anything for a buck. 

As for me, he was no king of anything, unless he was the king of drug abusers.  He wasn’t a father.  Oh, he babysat those kids alright.  He wasn’t a father.  He didn’t provide the seed, nor did he take the time to properly adopt those white kids.  He hated who he was.  He didn’t like being black.  He wanted to be white and he died alwhite. 

Moral of the story?  Stop hating on him, Tylenol kills too.  LOL.