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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...

Videos

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.