Mother Nature.

Mother Nature seems to have something against brown people.

John Cassidy.

Check out this New Yorker blog post written by one of my favorite contributors, John Cassidy.

"Another factor, which rarely gets mentioned, but which appears obvious to people who didn’t grow up here, such as myself, is that many Americans reach adulthood with a set of values and sense of self-identity that is historically inaccurate and potentially dangerous. If you have it banged into your head from the cradle to adolescence that America is the chosen nation—a country built by a rugged and God-fearing band of Anglo-Saxon individualists armed with pikes and long guns—you are less likely to embrace other important features of the American heritage, such as the church-state divide, mass immigration, and the essential role of the federal government in the country’s economic and political development."

Read more: http://www.newyorker.com/online/blogs/johncassidy/2010/02/tea-party-usa.html#ixzz0g3

"Let's take back our country!"

Whatever the fuck that means.

What you lookin' at?

Yakhouba Diawara along with the rest of the Miami Heat were in town last weekend to get beat by Derrick Rose and Joakim Noah. I was sitting on a bench minding my own business listening to the coolest dudes in Hip-Hop when Diawara's big ass walked past me. While I was busy contemplating the fairness in the fact that it's scientifically possible that he can be so big and I can be so pathetically small, he glanced at me calmly. I didn't think anything of it until he walked two more steps and did a quick double-take with a refreshed look of bewilderment. For a week I've been trying to figure out why he looked at me in such a way. "Whoa, look at how fresh that dude is!" or was it (and I think this is what it actually was) "Holy hell, how can you fit so much insecurity in such a little ass dude?!"

Well Mr. Diawara I'll tell you. Actually no I won't because you average 0.7 point per game. That means when you shoot the ball, it goes 70% of the way down the basket before it realizes who you are then comes out, which I must say is pretty magical but doesn't really contribute to Dwayne Wade's quest for another ring. And what the hell are you doing wearing your warmup suit 6 hours before the game? I know it's your version of the business suit because it never comes off during prime time, but can't you at least wear something else when you're out shopping? It's going to be pretty weird when it gets too warm in the mall and you have to take off the jacket and the only thing you have on under it is your jersey. People are going to ask, "What's up with this guy? Is he on his way to a pickup game at the YMCA or something?" That would be the best response. The more realistic response would be, "Is that dude on the Miami Heat so insecure he needs to wear his warmups while he's out so he'll get some public recognition?"

Is that what it is? If so, where the hell can I buy the Miami Heat warmups?

Disgusting.

"J Brand proves that the denim movement toward straight and skinny is hardly a trend. With an absolutely clean, anonymous back pocket and sophisticated lines, these jeans are already a classic set for the ages."

That is the synopsis for these disgusting pants. I know people say that a pregnant woman is beautiful. I don't know, maybe if that pregnant woman is wrapped in about 19 layers of clothing, otherwise that shit is disgusting.

It is what it is.

Watch the little dude in the front row (lower left of the screen) stand up after D. Rose throws it down. Yessir.

Read This.

This book isn't what I expected but it is still superb.

Here is a short passage I liked a lot:
People were standing up everywhere, shouting "This is me! This is me!" Every time you looked at them they stood up and told you who they were, and the truth of it was that they had no more idea of who or what they were than he had. They believed their flashing signs too. They ought to be standing up and shouting, "This isn't me! This isn't me!" Then you might know how to proceed though the flashing bullshit of this world.