Wednesday, July 24, 2002
Now I'm a pretty understanding person, and I know that people fuk up, and that life is a journey not a destination, and all that crap. Point being that I recognize that I have a shitload of faults and so do others and I need forgiveness and thus should cough it up for others.
OK back to my point. Two people that I'll stay a little bitter at forever.
The first is the ref that made that fucked up call in the Raiders-Patriots "snow game" in last years playoffs. I know I've harped on it here in this space before, but that was such an easy call, and he had all the time in the world with his little replay tent over his head and still fucked it up. At least I look back on that experience as an enjoyable one though. Even though that deuschbag fucked up the Raiders victory and what would have been a triumphant march to the Super Bowl and a trouncing of the Rams, I still look back fondly on the experience of watching the game. I mean when was the last time we saw a playoff game, and a good one at that, played in the snow on live TV. It was beautiful, it was spine-tingling, it had a certain jene se quoi that begs to be dissected, analyzed, and then thrown in a vat of acid and broken down to its microscopic components.
Anyway. OK, now the second person I can never forgive doesn't even qualify for the "at least it was a pleasant time" exception. This person subjected me to a night of dashed expectations, embaressment, mockery, and utter disdain. This person's name is E-40.
E-40 is this big fat piece of shit rapper from the East Bay Oakland area. Him and his crew were in Hawaii for a show about a year and a half ago. I had just picked up one of his used CD's, and was bumping it, enjoying it, and got stoked about seeing his show. The venue should have been my first warning sign. Gussie L'Amours is a sleazy bar slash pool hall slash nightclub that caters to the lowest common denominator and then expects them to drop their standards. Situated right down the street from the airport, it's a den of gamblers, thieves, desperate perverts, lonely agoraphobics, and straight-up villains. Every Tuesday night they have an oil-wrestling contest. So this is your scenario.
I conned my wife, my friend, and his girlfriend into attending this fiasco. I mean the tickets were only ten bucks, so I was like, c'mon, it's forty-water!! and I got all excited about it, talked nonstop about how I couldn't wait, starting talking like E-40, the whole nine yards. So long story short, the show is supposed to start at 8 PM, but this pile of shit doesn't take the stage until about 1:30 AM, performs for about fifteen minutes, and then exits stage left. No encore, no extended remix, no nothing. Just straight vaseline. And the 15 minutes he did perform sucked ass so hardcore, you could barely understand him, there were like 50 people onstage all rapping at once, and shitty ass e-40 was mumbling, barely able to stand up, and probably shit drunk. We were all wasted off our asses by this time, too, after sitting for five hours with the foulest degenerates on the island waiting for the whackest-ass MC in the land to perform the saddest show of all time. Everybody thought I was a frikken dumb-ass for dragging them to this shithole to watch this shitbag keep everybody waiting all night and lay an egg onstage.
So fuk you E-40. I just can't find it in my heart, buddy. I hope you go broke and I see you selling bags of oranges at the freeway offramp. I'll toss a nickel your way and be like "wassup?"
But I'm not bitter or anything.
Cuz I'm a positive, get along gang, kind of guy.
PS. c'mon Dodgers let's get a little winning streak going. You've been sucking ass since the all-star break.