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The 90's...yep you were there too...Part 3

   OK so maybe I'm not quite done with '92.  How could I have left out so much??  How could I forget that Long Islanders were represented nationwide by Joseph A. Buttafuoco Amy Elizabeth Fisher?  The country watched in horror as the koala bear on Buttafuoco's head seemed to grow out of control, and Ms. Fisher tried in vain to hide those colossal tombstones she called teeth  behind her lips.  How could I forget that this was the year we were introduced to that sweet little gargoyle from Texas named Ross Perot?  Four police officers get acquitted of beating Rodney King, because apparently seeing it with your own eyes leaves just enough reasonable doubt, setting off a peaceful little protest in Los Angeles.  John Gotti gets life in prison and Mike Tyson gets convicted of rape, and I couldn't be happier that Mike realized his mistake and hasn't done another bizzare thing since.
     The "Bash Brothers" are injecting their way into baseball history, and a quaint little shopping center called the Mall of America opens in Minnesota on 4.2 million square feet of land.  Suck on that Euro-Disney!  Reservoir Dogs opens at the Cannes Film Festival, and begins my undying admiration of the weirdo-genius Quentin Tarantino.  Wanna really feel old, this is the year Billy Ray Cyrus gave gave us Miley Montana, his third greatest achievement after having the balls to rock a mullet and start a line dancing craze, which can still be witnessed any given summer night at the Jones Beach bandshell.  Supercat's Don Dada begins my love of dancehall reggae, DANFORTH Quayle is hatin' on Ice-T who's hatin' on the cops, and the elder Bush pukes on the Japanese Prime Minister....quite a year.

   And so we begin our first year at Valley Stream Central High School.  The morning of my first day of school most likely went something like this....wake up at 8:15 for homeroom at 8:20(which we only had twice a year for whatever reason), throw on my baggy-as-shit black BOSS jeans, a brown Carhartt hoodie, my black and white Pumas, and a Miami Hurricanes Starter hat, jump in my mom's '92 Civic in which she's been waiting for me for a half hour, put on the "roll call with Ed, Lisa, and Dre" on Hot 97, make my mom drop me off 100 feet from school so nobody sees me give her a kiss goodbye, and wait until she makes the left on Dogwood until I light up my first cigarette of the day, cupping it because Mr Trombetta has eyes like a bald fucking eagle.  And so began high school.  The year of beepers, and if your beeper case and clip were the same color, you just sucked at life.  Every quarter in my house went into the Mortal Kombat machine at Video Hot Spot on Merrick Rd., and I'm pretty sure this is the year I got drunk for the first time (I'll save that story for another time. Lets just say it involved soy sauce and a fur coat).  This was the year of depressing movies as Schindler's List, Philadelphia and Robocop 3 were in theaters.  We were also given a few movies which are nothing short of classics like Carlito's Way,  A Bronx Tale, and Dazed and Confused.  We wore Cross Colours (don't even try it you did so!), Karl Kani, and Kikwear clothing, and recited lines from Dennis Leary's "No Cure For Cancer."  Pauly Shore was hosting MTV's Spring Break, and The Real World was our first glimpse of reality television.
    Now I know for sure this was the year I first smoked weed.  And the reason I know this is because this was the year we went to Roseland Ballroom to see House of Pain, Cypress Hill, Funkdoobiest, and these two little pricks who called themselves The Whooliganz....they would later grow up to become Scott Caan and The Alchemist...true story.  The reason I remember this so well was because it was most likely my first show, and because it was probably my 6th or 7th attempt at getting high.  I had smoked  several times before and didn't feel so much as a Dorito craving and was starting to think I was the only person in history to be immune to marijuana.  So as the night goes on I'm smoking and smoking bowl after bowl....nothing.  Until about a half hour later when what can only be described as the single most horrifying moment of my young 15 year old life occurred.  Apparently my body was storing all the THC in all the weed I had ever smoked for this one world-altering, senses shattering moment when I suddenly no longer had knees and my thighs went straight into my shins, and everyone in the Roseland knew this was going to happen to me too because every single person including Everlast looked at me as if they were saying "dude you're knees are gone." I could not walk, I could not so much as utter a syllable, all I could do was stand there and try not to die.  I'm sure I came around because I remember it being a great show, but let me tell you right now, and do not take this lightly .....appreciate your knees every now and then, it sucks without them.
   This was the year Michael Jackson had to deny child molestation charges for the first time, the year the Islanders went to the Wales Conference finals,  and the Knicks lose the Eastern Conference finals to da Bullsss 
   1993 gave us some great music. Wu Tang debuts, Snoop Doggy Dogg releases "Doggystyle" and forever changes the vocabulizzle of pop culture.  Onyx was throwing guns, A Tribe Called Quest was on an Award Tour, Aerosmith introduced us to Liv Tyler and Alicia Silverstone, Primus released "Pork Soda", oh and U2 was kind enough to give us Zooropa, whatever the fuck that was. I may have more of '93 later....if not '94 awaits...



Check out the "Videos" page for some of the songs I mention.  I'm sure you haven't heard some of these since the last time you had Crystal Pepsi, so here you go...


The 90's...yep you were there too...Part 2

   So 1991 comes and I graduate from 231. Now I'm faced with a dilemma.  Go to Springfield Gardens High School and die, or move.  So goodbye Queens and hello Long Island, in actuality we only moved 2.2 miles from one side of Hook Creek to another.  I noticed immediately these baggy pants tapered at the bottom with a white tag running down the zipper.  Some of you are probably already grinning and hanging your heads in shame because you owned Z Cavariccis in every possible color.  Now this is one of those moments in time when we step back and wonder what exactly the fuck did people think were attractive about these eyesores?? They made men and women alike appear to have child bearing hips, now throw a Hypercolor shirt in the mix and you have what was most likely the worst you have ever looked in your entire life.  Good idea, lets create a shirt that will let everyone know just how much I sweat.  Couldn't possibly get any worse right? WRONG! Because while you were wearing


The 90's...yep you were there too...Part 1

   I'm not quite sure if I grew up in the 80's or 90's.  In the 80's I was ages 3-13.  The 90's, 13-23.  So I guess it depends on when people "grow up."  At this rate I should be all grown up somewhere between 2040 & 2050.  The 80's, or the "Decade of Excess" has been satirized and mocked to death pretty much since the clock struck midnight January 1st 1990.  And some insist on hanging onto the 1980's, if you don't believe me go to any of those Jones Beach concerts that have 2 or 3 hair metal bands on the bill.  Its an acid washed, tight rolled, mullet rocking free for all.  Yes, I have been to a Poison concert there, and the whole time I was wondering if this is how these people still dress in their everyday lives, or if its their chance to break out the Ocean Pacific shirts and Keds that comes only once a year.
   Either way, this nonsense isn't about the 80's, it's about the 90's when anyone now in their early 30's now, started to become "men" or "woman", going through that awful and unfair time of our lives that we are the ugliest we will ever be, and the most confused by what was happening to us.  It's 1990: Goodfellas loses to Dances with Fucking Five Hour Long Wolves as Best Picture (Godfather 3 was also nominated but nobody knows why), the world is subjected to Wind Beneath My Wings for the first time and it never....ever.....goes....away............ever, The Simpsons and Sienfeld debut, the Hubble Telescope goes up and waves to Milli Vinilli on their way down.  George Bush Part Un is in office


Arnold Drummond 1968-2010

      Quite a life that Arnold Drummond had.  Starting with being adopted with his brother Willis on a basketball court in Harlem, Arnold taught children of all races that it's OK to leave you're roots behind after one year removed from them.
      That fateful day in Harlem when a black stretch limousine pulled up to the courts and an old white man waved them on in, like any red-blooded American child would, they threw caution to the wind and climbed into that leather interior armed only with a basketball and the hopes that this old white man was not just adding them to a collection of exotic creatures.  Mr Drummond, later known as "dad" after much resistance from the older, jaded Willis, took them in as if they were his own, much to the delight of his own daughter Kimberly who when first encountered with Arnold and Willis exclaimed "can we keep them daddy", nary a racist bone in her lily white character.

Here it is.....

    The next sentence may get my Mets fan membership card revoked permanently but here it is...I do not hate the Yankees.  I never have.  Don't get me wrong, I hate the Stienbrenners, I hate Brian Cashman, and there have been a laundry list of Yankee players I've hated over the years (Clemens I'm talking about you), and I guess I resent the very idea of the Yankees, but I do not hate them.  The only way I would hate the Yankees is if they were in the National League East.  Hence the reason I loathe the Braves, Marlins, and I particularly enjoy hating the Phucking Phillies, whom the Metsies just swept without allowing a run in a 3 game series.

         What drives me nuts is baseball "fans" hating on a team just because they feel they're supposed to.  Look, I'm realistic, this is a Yankee town, and it has only been otherwise twice in the last 100 whatever years, but when the Mets are hot, it's a very different feel than when the Yanks are winning.  Now, that being said, I also don't hate all Yankee fans....I don't hate ALL Yankee fans, I didn't say I don't hate any of them.

Goddamn you Twilight

OK let me start by saying I'm all for freedom of expression, and being yourself and all that. I truly am. But people like this need to get a hold of themselves, or someone else needs to get a hold of them and shake the shit out of them until they realize how much of a walking contradiction they really are. If you're in a "wolfpack" (UGH it make me nauseous just to say that), you are no longer an individual and have already handed your identity over to a larger group of people. I'm no sociologist, but i know their is something to be said about needing to belong, and identifying with people of similar interests and beliefs. But this, besides being lame to the point of evoking sympathy, is just fucking stupid. Emo was bad enough, but I hope and pray that 10 years from now these assholes are going to be so ashamed of themselves for being such sheep that they cant even watch White Fang without shuddering. Whew, ok I'm done being a judgmental prick....for today


I want answers for Oliver Perez

      3 years, $36 million. 3 years, 36 million. 3 years, $36MILLION???  Ok, either Omar Minaya was so hellbent on an all Latino Mets team, (if that offends you, you're stupid..hit that little x in the top right corner of your browser please) or Scott Boras didn't just pull the wool over Minaya's eyes, but he placed Omar's entire head up a sheep's ass.  Ok so he didn't sign Dereck Lowe, not gonna kill him for that, for that he gets a pass (I don't miss listening to The Maddog in the least), but  Oliver Perez has never shown anything but inconsistency, he has been a head case since day 1, and is now a $36 million shitty reliever.  SOMEONE needs to answer for this, and as a Met fan there's nothing more frustrating than not seeing someone go down for this, along with the other genius moves the Mets have made since Omar took over.  PS - We haven't forgotten about you Steve Phillips....I'll get to you another time.....



   What can I do for you old lady across the street? Is there a reason you constantly peek through the glass on your door like nobody on the other side can see you? Yes old lady, we see you! I am so tempted to approach her property like I'm under gunfire, commando roll up to her door and signal for her to hit the deck, mumu and all.  Once I give her the "all clear" and she opens the door and stands before me in her wrinkled house dress, and disheveled Pete Rose-esque 'do, I will inform her that they were here, they were fucking pissed at her, and if she kept looking out the door, they will torch the CBS studios, and burn every copy of Murder She Wrote known to man.  Although she seems to be from some sort of Soviet bloc nation, so i will have to saбийстве, она пишет.  I'll probably just wave like always.


Why is Yoko Ono still alive?

I'm giving you fair warning...I'm about to ask a lot of questions..
With all the musical geniuses we've lost, we are still stuck with the unfortunate burden of knowing that SHE is still among us. We have to deal with her awful handling of everything Lennon since his way-to-early death in 1980, as well as the era leading up to the Beatles parting ways & John's solo career. Now I am under no circumstances delusional enough to think that she was THE reason for the breakup of the most innovative and pioneering band of our time. Paul McCartney should be ordained a saint for dealing with her, Michael Jackson buying the Beatles catalog, AND that horses ass that married him and then ran..(create you're own leg joke) off with half his money.


On second thought....

Goddamn i could use a beer. But that beer will lead to bad things. I may lose my job if I drink a beer. I'll stop going to school again if I drink a beer. I'll lose everything I've broken my ass to accomplish the last 3 years. Yep May 29th,2007 was the last time i tasted a drop of alcohol, or did a bump of cocaine. Yes it's true, I am an addict/alcoholic. I'll wait for you to get up off the floor.........Most days I don't even really think about it anymore, or at least don't give it a SECOND thought. After all we can't help the FIRST thought we have because it just creeps up out of nowhere, like a sneeze or someone handing out religious literature. But the SECOND thought we have control over, and my second thought has to be "you'll lose everything", for the rest of my life. For those that don't understand addiction, good for you, I hope you never have to. And not because you're life will be ruined, and you'll look like shit, and you'll get down to 125 lbs like I did at the end, but because of the rehab.


What makes a classic?

Is age the only factor in determining what a "classic song" is? Does it's peak Billboard position have a say? Can a one-hit-wonder be a classic? I'd be careful when answering that one....first person that mentions Deee-Lite's "Groove is in the Heart" as a classic gets stabbed in the mouth. Likewise those who mention Biz Markie as a one-hit-wonder needs to go back and do their research, or risk a mouth stabbing. I tend to think that what determines a classic is a list of different things. Can what that song reminds you of, whether its a person, a fleeting summer romance, mourning a loved one, or just that period of time that it was on your walkman (pardon the reference...it was an Ipod type electronic device that played "cassette tapes"....say it with me ...ca-ssette ta-pes...think a really small VCR..now a VCR was a large piece of electroni......you know what never mind) on a daily basis make a classic? Is it that subjective? Certain songs, that otherwise have disappeared into obscurity, are forever on my list of classics because for those 2-4 minutes I can re-live a time in my life that I'll never get back. Is "Enter the Wu-Tang 36 Chambers" as much of a classic on the Left Coast as it is here? And is "The Chronic" considered as much of an all time great as it is in say Englewood? Both of these albums are staples in my music collection, 1. because they're great, and 2. because they take me back to a certain time and place. I can literally smell the King Size marker that I used to bomb the second floor bathroom in high school, and I can also smell stale smoke, because that bathroom next to the library was the easiest to get away with smoking in. I can remember the Nuthin But a G Thang video making that fridge full of Old English 40's making malt liquor look sooo good. Of course when we ran out and bought our first one it tasted like beer mixed with vinegar and cat piss, but we got used to it. I guess the point of all this is , for me, a classic has nothing to do with charts, or how many hits that artist followed up with, it's a personal decision, but there are exceptions....I don't care you lost your virginity on ecstasy floating on a cloud in Bora Bora with Groove Is In the Heart on the radio, it's never a classic. Don't get stabbed.