Combat Jack With Today's Mathematics

The new rumor to this never ending Chrihanna saga is that Tina Davis, Chris Brown's manager, allegedly had an affair with C. Breezy when dude was the tender age of 16. TMZ goes so far as to claim that as the "other woman", a three page text from Davis to Brown on the evening of the Grammy's set Rihanna off to the point where she ended up smacking, slapping and going buckwild on Brown, resulting in Brown "Chris Browning" Rihanna. Got that?

I know Tina. I met her back in the late '90's when she was a power exec at Def Jam. Even worked with her briefly. The pictures and clips don't really show how fine she is. Focused, strong willed, determined, beautiful chocolate skinted sister. Last time I saw her was at the MTV Music Awards down in Miami, like 4 years ago. She actually introduced Chris to me and wifey as her new artist. Before he blew up. He was hella smiles, so I'm guessing he was blowing her backs out. She turns 40 this month. Older women everywhere are realizing that tapping into that fountain of youth is a great thing. Gotta start going back to yoga, just to get limberer and fresher looking, especially since wifey's been really stank to me of late. Hope she's not "Tina Davising" me.

Kinda mad that older chicks didn't take unlawful advantage of me when I was 16. I had mad youth to share back then. Kinda jealous at Chris as well. Hittin Tina AND Ri Ri? Effin light skinted kneegrow. Like I tell my kids, "life's not fair"! My advice to my younger readers, get that whilst you can yung dunny's. Let them older broads take all that unlawful advantage out on you. But keep that on the low though.

Felt lazy like shit today, so didn't really feel like posting jack, even though it's the celebrated death day of Christopher Wallace p/k/a Biggie Smalls p/k/a The Notorious B.I.G. p/k/a Frank White, the G.O.A.T. of this rap shit. Realized I had too many memories of B.I.G. to let the day pass, so I'm dropping this piece. It was '95, and our client producers Ron "Amen Ra" Lawrence, Deric "D. Dot" Angeletie and Nashiem Myrick were on fiyah producing mad heat for the Bad Boy camp as part of Diddy's "Hitmen" production crew. Add my homie and friend Clark Kent who ruled with "Brooklyn's Finest" feat. B.I.G. and Jay-Z and my movement was unstoppable. My firm was making so much dough off them times. Life was very very bueno.

One day, one'a Puff's assistants called up my office. Bad Boy had just given their blessings for B.I.G. to be featured in a St. Ides commercial. They knew my wife, who was then an up and coming actress, was a dime + and they wanted to know if she'd be down to play B.I.G.'s "love interest" in the commercial. I was no stranger to the crooked letter I brew as a consumer, shit we all drank 40'oz like it was Vitamin Waters. My wife and I talked about it. At the time, being a young gunning music attorney with a client roster hotter than heat, I thought it might not be a good look for wifey to be all up in dude's commercial as a video hoe shilling malt liquor. Don't get me wrong, B.I.G. was most definitely a staple in the soundtrack to our lives, dude was incredible and had a tight hold on any and everything being played in NYC. Plus, I thought EVERY St. Ides commercial released was just dope. I just thought it might not be a good look. Wifey agreed, and she passed on the opportunity. The video dropped, we thought nothing of it and kept it moving.

Two years later, Big Poppa was brutally murdered, taken away from us way too fucking early. When I look at the above video, B.I.G.'s love interest being a poor imitation of wifey, I sometimes think "how effin cool would it have been for Mrs. CJ to be captured eternally on film with The King Of New York?" We laugh about it, and of course, there's no regrets. But she'd have another reason to pop her bad ass collar.

Fuck the killers and the bullshit corrupt cops that negligently fumbled the follow up investigation to B.I.G.'s death. You still the best Chris, these corney ass cRappers ain't got shit on you homie.

R.I.P.

NO SPOILERS!

Today wifey, me and the homie Fritz decided to play hookie in order to catch the 10am viewing of Watchmen at the IMAX Lincoln Center screen. We got there at 9:28am and the place was effin packed. I guess there was a whole lotta hookie going on. Not going deep into what the story is about, only because you can get that shit anywhere these days, but Watchmen was originally published by DC Comics as a twelve-issue comic book limited series written by Alan Moore, drawn by Dave Gibbons and colored by John Higgins. The series was published in single issues format during 1986 and 1987. The story was basically a deconstruction of the whole super-hero mythos and very much captured the pre-apocalyptic tension that permeated New York City during the 1980's. When that shit dropped, no one reading it knew where the fuck the book was taking them, but they knew it was a ride the medium of comic books had never taken them on before. Dense with both pop and classic literature references, Watchmen was multi-layered in story, structure and theme. The story was mad philosophical with regard to what being a super-hero really meant and went in deep with topics ranging from war, murder, rape, child abuse, prostitution and euthanasia on a genocidal level. To say Watchmen was, and remains to this day, the best piece of work captured in comic form is an understatement. It's the "Citizen Kane" of graphic novels, bar none. Even in describing what the book is about, what the experience of reading it is all about, I am not doing it any justice. I can only, and once again, strongly suggest to all of you out there who have never read it to please sincerely take the initiative to cop the book and do so. Your life in general will most definitely be enhanced.

















As hard as it is for me to explain what the Watchmen reading experience is, it's twice as hard for ANY FILMAKER to truly capture the full experience on film. Watchmen has been deemed "impossible" to make as a film. Zack Snyder of "300" fame does a pretty good fucking job at it though. Visually, the film hits all the notes, from costumes to grand background scenes to choreographed action sequences. This is the joint you most definitely cop a bag of shrooms to drop in order to capture the full visual experience. The IMAX screen adds to Snyder's visual A game. Being an '80's period piece that spans several decades (50's, 60's, 70's), post World War II New York, Viet Nam and even life on Mars never looked better. In addition, the characters as designed in the book are portrayed faithfully, virtually jumping off the pages. Rorshach, The Comedian and Dr. Manhattan (played by Billy Crudup and pimped out in CGI fashion) in particular make for some of the best book to film adaptations ever seen. Snyder also brings some of that slo-mo to quick fast visual magic that came off so well with his prior "300" joint. As a "super-hero" movie, the action is on point and mos def earns it's R rating. My kids were hating on the fact that we didn't bring them and I'm glad that we didn't. In addition to the major sex scene being soft pr0n worthy, the violence portions were well served and I got my fair share of blood splatter, bone breakage and blade cuttage. Wigs definitely got split and that is truly pun intended. The manliest of you will be giving up a wince and squirm here and there. Yes, I dare you.















Story and plot wise? Let me ask, how do you adapt the Bible into an action packed blockbuster for mass commercial consumption? Yeah, I dunno either. As much as Snyder tries to be as faithful as possible to the original, there's mad nuances and layers that are just not possible to capture on screen. At 2 hours and 40 minutes, the film is actually a well streamlined version of the original work but in no way comes close to capturing the full depth of the masterpiece that is the book. As much as I was amped to see more, at times, it was obvious to me that the piece was a bit too heavy in it's length. Philosophically, parts of the movie lumbered in the weight of it's depth, and as much as I loved every bit of it, there were moments where I was kinda bored.























All that said, what do I really think? As a fan of the Watchmen graphic novel, I always hoped that it would be made into a movie, even though deep inside, I wished it would never made into one only because I knew how virtually impossible it would be to fully capture all that is the Watchmen on film. However, if there was ever a film version of Watchmen that I would want to see, this joint is definitely it. The movie definitely earns an A for effort and a B for delivery. Don't get me wrong, I will definitely be seeing this again, next time hopefully in full altered state. I even see Blu-ray addage to my dvd collection. Snyder came to the table facing a lose lose situation and came out with a win-win/lose outcome. This isn't a date movie type of flick, more like the cerebral joint you and your nerdish type set might could build on on a weekend night. I will be seeing scenes of this film in my dreams as I sleep tonight.

I thoroughly endorse Watchmen the movie. There's nothing out there like this and I don't foresee anything like this in the distant future. In addition, I strongly urge that you Watchmen virgins cop that graphic novel and STUDY it like math. Just cause I said so and also because you will be broadening your horizons.






















In the end though, The Dark Knight > Watchmen.

Tomorrow. 10am. IMAX. Lincoln Center. Official Combat Jack review soon to follow.

My boy Dave is Jewish. He's married to one of our friends who is Black. Dave is so effin' cool that sometimes I forget he's not Black, so much so that sometimes I let fly the n word in his presence, which I really hate to do around white. Dave's not rich rich but he's got immediate access to a couple'a hundred thousand dollar stacks on account of him being a trust fund baby. Dave also had some issues with the law years ago on account of him always loving Black chicks. Even though he grew up in a mansion like home in Rhode Island, he always hung out in the projects chasing hood rat chicks. Eventually he started doing ghetto ass project like things which eventually landed him a brief stint in jail. Dave's real cool now though, great career, big ass house, three kids. He even has his mug shot picture framed in his living room on some look how cool and bad ass I was back in the day. I'll admit, that shit actually does look cool.

So last year, while driving my wife's car, we were stopped by cops. Apparently, I had a busted head light. The cop was nice enough to let me off with a warning. Problem was, Dave still hates cops, but not like how Blacks hate cops. See, Blacks hate cops because they know one wrong move and cops will have their ass laid the eff out. Dave hates cops in that, since he's a taxpaying citizen, he views them as his employees, and like boss to employee, feels like he can reprimand them at will. Anyways, Dave gets real pissed off at the cop cause he feels like the cop is wasting his time and ours and starts going the eff off on him with a bunch of "Fuckoutta here's", "our effin taxes at work" and "Go find the real criminals". Being that I'm at the wheel and also happen to be Black, my shit is sitting upright and still like a mannequin. I'm too old to get dragged out into the middle of the street and whupped on by night club wielding cops eager to put a knicca in check. Just like a Dave Chappelle skit, Dave goes off on the cops for like 5 minutes and eventually the cop says "have a nice evening sir" and bounces. Afterwards, after I get over my amazement at the cop's reaction and my anger at how I felt Dave's actions could have led into me getting stretched out, I cuss him out and warn his ass to never ever do that shit again whenever I'm in his presence.

I thought all Black knew this cardinal rule, but apparently, the Black chick in the clip above must've had a momentary lapse of judgment. That, or the cocaine she was sniffin' on earlier must've been hella raw. Regardless, the cops react accordingly leaving her ass all sorry whimpering, mumbly and laid out on the ground, sloppy thong showing and all.

Being that today is the actually date when the homie Crispus caught a bad one, in commemoration of CA Week, act like you know when in the presence of po po.

See how the entire crowd is filled with white, screaming and shouting for blood? Not a good look for the light-skinted fellow jumping, hopping around like a lil dread locked Leprchaun.

We all know how white LOVES to cage fight. White loves that shit so much that cage fights (along with all types of wrestling) are viewed as fun wholesome entertainment for the entire family. So much so even that cage fight events make for the perfect opportunity to take out the wife, kids, babies, grandma and dog included. Like a picnic even. Black and cage fights? Not so much. Not saying that Black ain't brawlic, but genetically, we aren't built for that type of sport. As the poor Black fellow in the above footage so clearly demonstrates, Black has no effin business whatsoever entering into any types of cage, especially when the word "fight" is somehow attached or connected to it. I'm guessing dudes' crew, consisting mainly of white, gassed him to step in the ring on account of him being all limber and shiny because of his capoeira skills. Not a good look. In celebration of Crispus Attucks week, whenever one of your white homies steps to you with the "Dude, the World Extreme Cage Fighting championships are in town!!! Me and the boys been watching you on the ball court and think you'd be perfect as a contender. Let's fucking get to it bro!!!" lingo, kindly reply, "Thanks Josh, but no thanks, I'm already locked in with my brother Jamel and his friends to attend the local ghetto strip club, solely for the purpose of throwing hundreds of dollars of my hard earned money into the air, at scantily clad women, just on GP and in order to look cool." In other words, just say no.

Crispus Attucks (c. 1723 – March 5, 1770)

Back at Cornell University, there was this Black dude named Cornell. Cornell was this short 'lil fella that I think ran track. He probably didn't though, since he was a true nerd. He also made it a point to not hang out with with any Black people. On campus, the student body was like 25,000 deep and being that at the time (probably now too) there were so few of us, and what I mean is few Black people, we made it a point to at least build with each other, have each others back. Nothing exclusive, but you know how ornery white can get when they're clearly in the majority.

Anyways, Cornell was mad happy on account of how he managed to stay away from Black people. He even pledged a white frat during our freshman year. I forget which one, but like most white frats up in college, they had a dope ass house which epitomized the whole Ivy League experience. Ivy growing on the facade, mad oak wood floors and libraries, framed pictures of frat brothers going 100 years back, all of 'em white except for Cornell (the dude). So once this guy becomes an official frat member, he takes place in what was tradition for this frat, the beloved beer flume. It'd be a Friday night and this frat would have kegs all up in their piece, you know how they love them some kegs. Brothers meanwhile, stayed grasping the 40 oz. So one night, white is partaking in their beloved beer flume, where they make a line on both sides, kinda like the Soul Train line, and then they'd commence to pour beer from the kegs onto the wood floors so that its like a one'a those Slip and Slide thingies, like the photo below:

















Gassed up on beer, white would proceed to take off their shirts, race to the beer flume and have a good ole time slip sliding to and fro. Mad shits and giggles. Getting back to my point, one day, Cornell, the Black fella, decides he will make history by becoming the first Black dude to slip slide on white's hallowed beer flume. White gasses him up, tanked up, Cornell runs and proceeds to slide. Problem is, Cornell, being too eager to both please and out do his brethren, puts too much accelerate on his approach. Dude takes off with so much momentum that as he flumes, he takes off like an effin black rocket, so much so that he keeps going, way past the stop mark, so fast even, that his head collides against the wall way on the other side of the room. Dude was fluming so fast that upon contact of head and wall, Cornell (the Black dude) cracks his spinal cord in several places, thus leaving him a quadriplegic for the rest of his life. Yeah, that shit was tragic, and most definitely a true story, but I learned a valuable lesson: Black should never ever partake in activities that are designed, by nature to be exclusively white.

Did you know that today kicks off Crispus Attucks week? Born in 1723, Crispus was an escaped slave. Upon arriving to Boston, he was greeted by white who thought it would be mad cool to have a token Black amongst their ranks. Soon enough, Crispus and his boys came up with the name "Ye Olde Drank Mad Meade Crew". The Drank Mad Meade crew became notorious for invading every known pub in Boston from like 10 am until they closed shop. Their drink of choice was that fresh Samuel Adams brew, who happened to be alive then. It's even reported somewhere that being a fan of the crew, Sam gave these cats an endorsement deal, blessing them with authentic Sam Adams jerseys. Dudes also had coupons which enabled them to drink free Sam Adams brew at participating taverns.























The Drank Mad Meade Crew stayed having mad beef with other inferior crews, and they would dominate said crews in gang fights throughout the city. Many surmised that the Drank Mad Meade Crew had the advantage because they was always fueled up on alcohol plus had a Black dude who was always eager to jump in the front and prove his worthiness to his crew. Around this time, America was on some pop off shit with the British. Still under colonial rule, colonists here resented being taxed for shit and having to answer to the King. A couple of skirmishes took place, but nothing big, and shit always resulted in the British keeping the colonists well in their place.

On Monday, March 5, 1770, a British soldier walked into a barber shop, got a trim, and when asked to pay for the barber's services smacked the barber across his mouth saying "Fuck yo bill, go tell it to the King, beyacth!" News spread fast and around 11am, as the Drank Mad Meade crew was polishing up their third round of pitchers, a boy, idolizing the crew, ran up in the bar to tell them about the incident. Seeing the British as just a bigger version of some of their other rival gangs, the crew got hyped. One of the crew members, enraged at the incident, let out a "Yo, let's lay these British niggas way the fuck down, son." Throwing one last round of brew down and violently pounding on the bar, the Drank Mad Meade Crew was AMPED! Dudes then ran home, collecting their hunting knives, batons and muskets, ready to tear shit up with regard to the British.

A little after 12pm, the DMM crew spotted a group of British soldiers. "Thar those bitches be-ith", one of the members shouted. So incensed that the soldiers were proudly rocking their colors on their turf, the DMM ran towards them. Crispus, having recently been promoted to war chief status, screamed out "I got this fam, I got th.....". Instantly, the British let off some rounds, striking Crispus dead center in the chest with two bullets. The picture below also depicts poor Crispus about to catch a mean one with a mini bat from behind. Needless to say, Crispus died immediately.





















See how dude got that mini bat arched up? Not a good look for Crispus.

Although it is historically agreed that the attack on the British soldiers was a major pu~ on the part of the DMM crew, according to Wikipedia, Crispus "has been frequently named as the first martyr of the American Revolution and is the only Boston Massacre victim whose name is commonly remembered. He is regarded as an important and inspirational figure in American history." So in celebration of Crispus Attucks week, let all Black know that as fun and cool as it can be to roll with our white brethren, stay on point when being invited to partake in some their fun looking but way dangerous for Black activities. I haven't yet compiled a list as to what activities to stay away from, but before jumping in, just think "what business does a Black person like me have joining in on some white people shit like this?". It might just could end up saving your life. When in doubt, just say no!