am i the only one thinking that naomi campbell looks amazing?

theres a church next door that has a huge sign that says “come in now,” and i think if they had naomi cambell in the clergy, maybe we’d all sign up.

has she aged a day?

incredible tummy, beautiful legs, attitude in her strut: why isnt naomi campbell on the cover of every health and fitness magazine in production?

im thinking she’s an alien.

i heard rumors that she has a pretty bad attitude, and has often times been called a bitch.

you know what? fine.

i want my supermodels to be spoiled bitches.

jenny mccarthy might have had the hottest and cutest playboy layout of all time. but as soon as she started putting her finger up her nose and trying to act like one of the boys, it lost everything for me.

if naomi was my girl, i’d let her pout. why not? any time she just wanted to walk around the house complaining about this one or that one, throwing dishes, taking a golf club to televisions, spitting, i would just go into the game room and play my xbox on the 42″ plasma screen.

let it out, naomi.

and if, for whatever reason, she wanted to start drifting her anger in my direction, i’d say, whatever baby, cuz as hot as you are, my mother is still the most beautiful woman in the world.

which is true.

and today is her birthday.

happy birthday, mom.

Death Certificate

Priority Records

“No Vaseline”

Got damn, I’m glad ya’ll set it off.

Used to be hard, now you’re just wet and soft.

First you was down with the AK,

and now I see you on a video with Michel’le?

Lookin’ like straight bozos.

I saw it comin’, that’s why I went solo.

And kept on stompin’,

when ya’ll mothafuckers moved straight outta Compton.

Livin’ with the whites, one big house,

and not another nigga in site.

I started off with too much cargo,

dropped four niggas now I’m makin’ all the dough.

White man just rulin’.

The Niggas With Attitudes — who ya foolin’?

Ya’ll niggas just phony,

I put that on my mama and my dead homeys.

Yella Boy’s on your team, so you’re losin’;

Ay yo Dre, stick to producin’.

Callin’ me Arnold, but you Been-a-dick;

Eazy E saw your ass and went in it quick.

You got jealous when I got my own company,

but I’m a man, and ain’t nobody helpin’ me.

Tryin’ to sound like Amerikkka’s Most,

you could yell all day but you don’t come close.

Cuz you know I’m the one that flowed,

ya done run 100 miles, but you still got one to go.

With the L-E-N-C-H M-O-B, and ya’ll disgrace the C-P-T.

Cuz you’re gettin’ fucked out your green by a white boy,

with no vaseline…

[Refrain] (L.L. sample: “Now you’re gettin’ done without vaseline…”) 3x

(Biz Markie sample: “Damn, it feels good to see people…on it”)

The bigger the cap, the bigger the peelin’,

who gives a fuck about a punk-ass villain?

You’re gettin’ fucked real quick,

and Eazy’s dick, is smellin’ like MC Ren’s shit.

Tried to tell you a year ago,

but Willie D told me to let a hoe be a hoe, so

I couldn’t stop you from gettin’ ganked,

now let’s play big-bank-take-little-bank.

Tried to dis Ice Cube, it wasn’t worth it

cuz the broomstick fit your ass so perfect.

Cut my hair and I’ll cut them balls,

cuz I heard you’re, like, givin’ up the drawers.

Gang-banged by your manager, fella,

gettin’ money out your ass, like a mothafuckin’ Ready Teller.

Givin’ up the dollar bills,

now they got the Villain with a purse and high-heels.

So don’t believe what Ren say,

cuz he’s goin’ out like Kunte Kinte,

but I got a whip for ya Toby;

used to be my homey, now you act like you don’t know me.

It’s a case of divide-and-conquer,

cuz you let a Jew break up my crew.

House nigga gotta run and hide,

yellin’ Compton, but you moved to Riverside.

So don’t front, MC Ren, cuz I remember when you drove a B-210.

Broke as a mothafuckin’ joke.

Let you on the scene to back up the FirstTeam.

It ain’t my fault, one nigga got smart,

and they rippin’ your asshole apart.

By takin’ your green, oh yeah,

the Villain does get fucked with no vaseline.

[Refrain scratched]

I never have dinner with the President.

I never have dinner with the President.

I never have dinner with the President.

And when I see your ass again, I’ll be hesitant.

Now I think you a snitch,

throw a house nigga in a ditch.

Half-pint bitch, fuckin’ your homeboys.

You little maggot; Eazy E turned faggot.

With your manager, fella,

fuckin’ MC Ren, Dr. Dre, and Yella.

But if they were smart as me,

Eazy E would be hangin’ from a tree.

With no vaseline, just a match and a little bit of gasoline.

Light ’em up, burn ’em up, flame on…

till that Jheri curl is gone.

On a permanent vacation, off the Massa plantation.

Heard you both got the same bank account,

dumb nigga, what you thinkin’ bout?

Get rid of that Devil real simple, put a bullet in his temple.

Cuz you can’t be the Nigga 4 Life crew

with a white Jew tellin’ you what to do.

Pullin’ wools with your scams, now I gotta play the Silence of the Lambs.

With a midget who’s a punk too,

tryin’ to fuck me, but I’d rather fuck you.

Eric Wright, punk, always into somethin’,

gettin’ fucked at night.

By Mista Shitpacker,

bend over for the gotdamn cracker,

no vaseline…

Where are they now?

Dr. Dre is currently reaping the benefits of co-writing, producing and directing the music and videos of multi-platinum artists Eminem and Snoop Doggy Dogg. He has a hugely successful solo recording career, and he is president of Aftermath Records.

Ice Cube is currently starring in America’s #1 box office movie, “Barbershop,” and recently told late night talk show host Craig Kilborn that he hopes to join Aftermath shortly and have his next solo record to be produced by Dre.

Eazy-E died several years ago from the AIDS virus.

ashley gets jealous.

have i ever told you that? it’s true.

i tell her that she has no reason to be that way, that none of the girls in LA really want me and she says, “that’s not what Lenny Kravitz says.”

i tell her that Lenny wears women’s clothes and is bald as a bat and wears a wig.

she says “BLIND as a bat, poopyhead.”

i say, lenny isn’t blind.

then she sighs. she sighs a lot. when she sighs i say, “what was that?” and she gives me a second sigh. it’s cute.

almost every night before i go to sleep ashley calls me. lately she has been trying to start fights with me. i hate fights. last night she caught me after our xbi softball game. i was watering the grass out by the duck pond. the automatic sprinklers aren’t working. i think our gardener is an alcoholic. anyhow, ashley was saying how she feels unloved by me and i said, i put a huge picture of you on my blog. she said, so, you didn’t write about me. i said i did! i said you were perfect. she said, you didn’t say that i inspire you. i said, aaaaah of course you inspire me.

it was hard to explain. so i stuck to the fact that i put her picture up. it was really all that i had going for me.

how many blogs put your picture up yesterday? i asked her.

nobody i know has a blog other than you. she said. when she enunciated “blog” she made it sound like a stupid thing. like, “you’d never guess what Juanita got for her sweet 16th birthday gift: a frog!”

i undressed, turned off the christmas lights and climbed into bed. we were still on the phone

i told her that i found a pair of her red panties.

“i don’t have any red panties,” she said.

i could have sworn they were red. but you know my memory.

she became very angry at the idea that some other panties might be left behind that weren’t hers.

she said, “describe them.”

i said, “im in bed.”

she said, “DESCRIBE THEM!”

i said, they smell like you.

she said, don’t be gross.

i said, they’re a thong, they seem new.

she said, “get out of bed right now and tell me what the label says.”

i got out of bed right then and found the panties and said, “victoria secret.”

she said, “those aren’t red those are pink!”

my christmas lights had tricked me yet again.

she said, “i love those! that sucks that i left them behind.”

i said, “don’t worry, they’re safe in this ziplock baggy.”

she said, “i told you not to be gross.”

i said, “i could make $100 off these panties. you’re famous.”

she said, “you’re more famous than me.”

i said, “a famous girl’s teen panties found on the famous guy’s floor. that could get us $100.”

she said, “im hanging up if you don’t stop being so sick.”

i said, “im not that famous. probably only $75.”

she said, “please don’t sell my panties.”

i said, “i wont sell them for less than $125. don’t worry.

and she said, if you sell those i will never talk to you again.

i said, promises promises daisy princess. and i schemed myself to sleep.

hi, tony pierce

hi lenny kravitz, nice wig.

yeah. yeah. hey tony, mind if i take over your blog when you go on vacation?

only if you only talk about what happens backstage at your concerts.

oh, man, all i do is drink juice, talk to the entertainment reporters, and do yoga.

it’s who youre doing the yoga with, lenny, that im sure readers of my blog would be interested in learning about.

ive been housesitting in your neighborhood, tony pierce. every day i see a different girl show up.

those are my cousins. they like to cook. if they make a big meal, they’ll put some in tupperware and bring it over.

those are some mighty close hugs youre giving your cousins.

im very grateful for their food.

most of these girls are white, tony.

nah, just light skinned. you know how it is.

one of the girls was chinese.

that was saki, she’s japanese.

you have a japanese cousin?

no, that was a chick i met at the Nacional.

so you are dating her!

actually she brought over some tempura.

but you kissed her, i saw it!

no no. she just had a little spinach in her teeth that i was helping her remove. and my hands were full. of tupperware.

anyway, what about the blog? can i do it? please?

only if you talk about lisa bonet.

you’re a gentleman, like me. we dont kiss and tell.

good point, lenny. whats up with you selling all the stuff in your new orleans house?

ironically, me and lisa used to live there right before the “let love rule” album was recorded. i never felt right back there after we split. i didnt do my taxes so well last year, so i figured i’d just sell everything in the place.

even the suit of armor?!

it’s not as kinky as i was hoping it would be.

im gonna steal from the obvious blog right now.


lenny, in five words, describe what its like to be a handsome lead guitar singer songwriter frontman

redhead mondays, brunettes tuesdays; twins

im not sure i understand, lenny, im not sure im worthy to understand.

its not a wig, by the way.

then screw you, you cant borrow my blog.


cuz only i can lie here.

my boss’s boss slapped the Lying Hat off my head.

the propeller stopped spinning. the monkey got stuck on his way back in.

i thought you said you wanted me to keep the hat on.

i knew she could read my mind, so i added,

fucking bitch.

she clenched her fist. i knew she didn’t like me.

“do you know my superpower, ma’am?”

“i know more about you than you know, la vista.”

then you know i feel no pain

“then explain your carpal tunnel.”


“you want your fingers and arms to ache?”

theres beer everywhere, drugs, tv. all we do is try to numb our senses. theres a bar at a shoe store on hollywood blvd. what’s that all about?

“so you want to feel pain?”

i want to feel something.

the monkey’s gears were whining. i picked up the hat and put it back on my ‘fro. but before it could get comfortable, i put it on my boss’s boss’s head.

why do you hate me?

“i don’t hate you. actually i admire you. it wasn’t my idea to block you from being a superagent. i just think that sometimes you underperform.”

strangely that stung. i wasnt expecting her to hit me there just like that. that early. i didnt even know she knew me that well.

everyone slacks off. i’m there when you need me arent i?

“i know, i know. but to be honest. to be a superagent, you’ve got to be on like all the time. its a different mindset than you have right now, agent. it’s commitment, fearlessness, obedience, passion, and trust. only then can there be room for magic.”

the propeller made a slow revolution on her cap.

“the air conditioner is on, la vista.”

im not here not to be a superstar.

“then quit acting like a punk.”

she took the goofy cap off and set it back on the shelf where it belonged and walked over to a locked cage.

please God please.

“please get your mind out of the gutter, agent”

“honestly, boss, i just want to see what’s in that cage.”

“oh. okay. theres something in here i want to give you. i have an assignment that i need you to complete at noon.”

it was 11am.

“a bank is going to be robbed. a very crowded bank. we’re afraid that the perps will flub it, panic, and take hostages or kill people.”

scores of agents illegally listened in on bad guys all over the city as they talked on cell phones or held meetings in apartments. the truly stupid called each other on cordless phones, easilly monitored by police radio. meaning, even the police knew. some of those calls were from us. decoys. it wasnt nice. but it had to be that way. we had to establish ourselves with each sunrise. and reinforce the underground myth that the fbi knows a bunch, but the xbi knows everything.

“this is a pair of form-fitting earplugs. you and six other agents will be wearing them. you will all be in the bank before it gets robbed. each of you will also have one of these,” she handed me a canister that looked like what people with asthma use to clear their lungs.

“this canister emits a tone so high-pitched that it makes it terribly painful for humans to tolerate. unless you’re wearing those earplugs, you will try to cover your ears, your stomach will turn, there will be vomiting and screams of pain.

“your job, la vista, is to activate the tone, kick open the teller door, and spray paint the lenses of the two center cameras behind the tables.

“your cue will be a gunshot.”

so each agent will spray paint a pair of cameras. and one of the agents will get either the money or the perps.

“the idea is to get the money and foil the heist. but if we have to shoot one of the perps on the way out, then so be it.”

“i have to kick in a door, and spray paint two cameras.” i asked her.

“and then get on the bus,” she said.

i took the canister and thanked her for the gig.

“from the sound of the gunshot, to the activation of the disturbance, to the spraying of the cameras you have thirty seconds. then you have fifteen seconds to exit. even a slacker like you could do this.”

i gave her a sarcastic smile. God this was great.

i hope it’s a wells fargo i thought.

“it is a wells fargo,” she said. reading my mind. smiling.

fucking hate wells fargo.