Numma One Stunna

Oh, you won't catch her ridin' dirty...she's lean, mean, trimmed in green, a law making, justice layin' machine. And I'll bet she can hook up the ill Curry. Props to India and the election of their first female president. Bo!

Not So Long Ago..In a Galaxy Very,Very Near...

Now, Is it me..or is there a TIE Fighter in close pursuit of the space shuttle?

Alotta Lotto

Hello children! Comfy? Cozy? After a short vacation on Rikers Island, I'm back to blogging. My topic today is the Lottery. More specifically, The millions of numbskulls who stand in line daily buying as many tickets as they can in the hopes of striking it rich. My problem is two fold. First, YOU'RE NOT GOING TO WIN! EVER! Stop wasting your child's Similac money on 20 lottery tickets that will never get you anything more than self esteem problems. Dammit people. 2) BUY ONE TICKET! I swear, there is nothing more annoying than standing behind some fruit cup, yelling out all of his/her favorite numbers; a child's birthday, their home address, the lucky numbers from a fortune cookie, your baby mama's fahvuh's prison number..whatever...it AIN'T gonna happen, mate. Just like everything you do: beeg show, no resoolts. So please, step aside and let me pay for my bottle of water. Hay-Zeus Chris Toe! And why is that when just as these people turn to leave, they ALWAYS have to buy just ONE more ticket? It never fails. enough already. Big Ups to Sally Struthers.

Hooters

Y'all probably thought I was going to talk about Hooters and Wings. No, this post is about a very special hooter from my youth. I learned how to read time using the toy pictured above when I was 3-4-5 who knows...YOUNG. I went to a vintage shop this weekend and found this, to my surprise, sitting on a shelf right next to the entrance. I almost plotzed. I haven't seen this thing since the mid-80's. Oh, nostalgia...

Would you like a byag?

Every morning, upon entering my office building I pass by the exact same newsstand to pick up my breakfast. Usually, I grab a banana, some plain yogurt and a Redbull. Each day the woman behind the register asks me: a) "Would you like a byag" (bag) b) "a spooun" and never hooks up napkins. My response to these questions is always the same, "yes, yes". I'm saying, does she expect me to juggle the items upstairs and then eat the yogurt with my fingers? Furthermore, I've been in there everyday for months, at the same bat-time on the same bat-channel. Cut me some slack lady, please. Buy the coke, cook the coke, cut-it and send me on my way.

Why, Oh Why?...

...Could this not have been the response to the blatant failures and continuing dishonesty of the Bush Administration. Oh latency, how America loves you so...

I Love New Jersey

I see this billboard from my train on the daily. God I love Jersey (I really do).

Jazz

Look. Jazz is the water of life. Seriously folks. Learn it well. Go to your local music store today. Go to Itunes, Napster...whatever. Better yet, go to youtube and type in any jazz musicians name and watch them make magic. Listen to jazz from any era. I implore you. DO IT.

Another Bad Acquisition

So, I picked up these tables at a local garage sale. The green top with gold trim is the icing on the cake. Retro hotness.

This Just In...

This is a picture of Jalaluddin al Saghir, memeber of Iraq's parliament, reacting to today's bombing in the Parliament cafeteria. Apparently his reaction was a sneeze. Bless you.

1832

Enough is enough. First, we have Michael Richards who felt himself at ease enough to start spouting racial epithets on stage at his show. Then, we have Don Imus calling the Rutgers Women's Basketball squad "nappy-headed ho's" and now, some foreign couch manufacturer labeling one of their couches as "Nigger-Brown". To all of this I give a huge W-T-F! I try to be fair, and give a few more inches of leeway where I can, but, with things like this I can't help but but be completely irritated and offended.

I'm not just offended by the fact that White people, among others, feel it okay to use these terms. I'm offended that Black people are equally (if not more so) as guilty of using these terms; and that as a result, others feel that it's no biggie to use the aforementioned phrases in public arenas.

I'm no stranger to the guilt either. I freely drop the word "nigga" -- less frequently these days -- but use it nonetheless. These incidents have definitely made it apparent to me that there is no worth in the repeated use of these terms; that regardless of the user, they are horrible and worthy of being condemned and forgotten. I used to think that their use took the power away from them, but in reality, frequent usage emboldens others to feel comfortable in using them. And I find that unacceptable.

I think that these incidents are providing a key opportunity to open up dialogs about these terms for light and dark skinned folks. I think there needs to be responsibility taken by light-skinned folk, and even more so by dark-skinnned folk, to ensure that we don't continue to leave a legacy of racial bias based on skin color, for our children. That is all.

Good Friday

So it's Good Friday...and I'm at work. Bollocks. I wasn't aware of this, but it's also "Bring your Screaming Hoard of Children to NYC Day: too! My train this morning was replete with a boisterous gaggle of preteens. Yes, I had to forgo my extra 40 minutes of cherished sleep, and endure this cacophony. BUT, it WAS cool to see the kids extremely excited to be going into the big city. It's been a long while since I've seen that level of excitement about going into NYC. All-in-all it was nice. Gotta jet for now. Peace in the Middle east.

Help and Understanding

I just had to post this collage by my boy Leon, artist extraordinaire. I've been laughing at this all week. So damn good. If you want to see more of his work, check out www.leonthe4th.com.

New Acquisition

Just copped this pretty sweet coffee table for the price of "on the house". Can't beat that. I've virtually furnished my spot for free. I now have a bunch of refinishing projects on the table. That is all.

Old Men and Their Toys

I think there is nothing funnier than seeing a man above the age of 35 on a scooter; especially when that man is pushing 65, bucktoothed, and rather portly to say the least. So when I espied this guy force his way through my commuter train, scooter in tow, I couldn't help but to snicker silently to myself. When he shoved past me, hitting me on the dome with the bag draped across his shoulder, my laughter quickly turned to irritation. Old boy then proceeded to drop the scooter in the middle of the aisle next to me, and walk further up to the front of the train to take his seat (where he quickly pulled out his Walkman...yes, Walkman). I sat there in disbelief. I couldn't believe that an "advanced" man couldn't see how that's a completely ridiculous place of rest for his toy on a packed train. Anyway, as expected, along comes the conductor who quickly sees the obstacle, dripping from the rain, beside me. After looking to several people to find out to whom it belongs, I decided to pipe up and point the man out. The conductor moved quickly to the man and told him that he had to either place the soaking-wet scooter on the overhead rack, or hold it in front of him. Again, choosing to ignore common sense, he places the scooter above a smartly dressed Black woman, with perfect hair. WRONG choice. Needless to say the scene deteriorated quickly and the scooter ended up on his lap. Word to the masses..and to middle aged men...do us a favor, leave your scooter at home.

Hello my Peepholes!

Friends, Romans, Countrymen...temporary contractors...lend me your ears, and anything else you can spare for that matter. Welcome to The Truthful Ramblings of Fuller Schitt. I, Fuller Schitt, your humble narrator, realize that I'm currently writing for an audience of zero. However, I hope that will change as my thoughts spill forth upon this page like cocaine on Courtney Love's coffee table. Look for a first official entry soon. Copy, Roger, Mildred...over and out!