but in los angeles county the health department does inspections of restaurants and bars and places that sell food, and assigns a grade based on the cleanliness, or lack thereof, of the establishment.

if they find vermin, unsatisfactory refrigeration devices, no hot water, or adulterated food, they will deduct points from the score and calculate a grade. any grade of an A to a C will allow you to stay in business. the grade gets put on your front window and you go on your little way.

if you get less than a C, they shut your ass down until you fix your shit and get it together.

the day before thanksgiving 1997, right around when this program was put into practice, one of the oldest and finest diners in los angeles, a downtown eatery called the pantry was found to be lacking and it was shut down from the first time since it opened in 1924. the pantry, you see, is a twenty-four hour a day diner whose motto ironically enough is “always open, never without a customer.”

also interesting is that the pantry is owned by former mayor dick riordan, who was the la mayor at the time his historic eatery was shut down.

some people wont go to a restaurant that has a C on the window. some people are even sketched out by Bs.

i couldnt care less either way. you can have a good day the day the health inspector shows up, that doesnt mean you deserve your grade.

i think this is why its a good idea to pray before each meal.

miss montreal is over here. we did my laundry. we tivoed ryan and tristas wedding. she watched it while i tried to stop myself from jumping out a window.

now we’re watching the billboard awards.

how can television get away with being so bad?

there needs to be a health inspector for tv shows.

ryan and tristas wedding should have shut down that entire network for being shallow and bogus and overdone and so cheesy that children shouldnt have been allowed to be corrupted by it.

now they have jessica simpson and nick hosting the billboard awards with ryan seacrest in the crowd.

both shows deserve fs

the president should be allowed to veto this shit.

my tivo should allow me to give thumbs up or thumbs down at the end of a show cuz neilsen ratings just showed you how many people watched it, they dont tell you if they liked it.

now the cast of the oc are presenting a billboard award.

now i am pouring myself a tall drink.

great photo by marc brown

last year me and ashley had a good thing going and she and i went together.

this year i havent really hung out with her much for a variety of reasons, one being that she has a boyfriend who shes into. but because we had so much fun last time, i figured i would extend an olive branch and take her.

she asked me if i would be able to keep my hands to myself. i asked her if she would be able to keep her hands to herself.

we both realized that we wouldnt be able to keep our hands to ourselves and since we hadnt been intimate in a year the volcano of lustful passion would probably errupt all over the dancefloor, into the mens room, on top of a table, across the spread that will be catered by mr wolfgang puck and probably into the alleyway behind the white lotus as the rain poured down and our animalistic sillouhettes merged beneath a spotlight.

so i asked miss montreal if she would go with me. she said she’d rather not. didnt explain why and i didnt ask. people shouldnt have to explain themselves.

i then im’ed my true love. she doesnt have a man any more. she said i should ask karisa. i said, why dont you want to be my date (my true love i can dig for reasons with, she never takes it the wrong way). i forget what she said, but she reminded me that i hadnt hung out with karisa in a while, so i asked karisa.

karisa asked me if i had asked anna kournikova. i think my exact words were fuck anna kournikova. then she asked me if i had asked paris hilton, i told her that paris was out of town.

so karisa said, hmmm.

i said, if you say no i will probably go with ashley and she and i will make passionate love in the club, on the club, in the street, in the subway and then ontop of her red miata.

karisa said, doesnt she have a boyfriend?

i said yeah.

so karisa said, ok, i will go with you. cheating is not cool.

and thats how i got my date for tomorrow nights xbi christmas party.

kruftbox + ten gallon hat + hosemonster

let me say a few things about how i feel about kwanza, since its approaching and all.

fuck fucking kwanza.

motherfuckers.

kwanza.

our fucking dude was born and youre going to even for a second whip out some fucking bullshit kwanza nonsense.

motherfucking santa claus wasnt enough?

my bro ian drove me home today from work. we were going to the mountainside hollywood hills secret lair so usually we just go straight up wilton.

wilton north of beverly has some kickass homes. two million dollar ones. million dollar ones. big ones. bigger ones.

huge ones.

on some of the huge ones i saw some equally huge christmas decorations. i saw a blowup snowman that was at least a story tall and twenty feet wide.

i saw christmas lights the size of footballs.

and yes, i saw some gigantic images of santa claus.

of all the people in the world who should be saying, man im glad you were born, my lord, it would be them.

but instead they celebrate the birth of their messiah with huge images of winnie the pooh wearing a fake white beard

like fools.

and then theres kwanza.

one thing black people can do well is praise jesus. we do it better than anyone in the world. the music we make when we do it might be the most magical of all music, the preachers we have might be the best there ever were, and the clothes we wear to church are the sharpest.

then on the flip side we have our brothers and sisters who are muslim, and watch them pray. they win at praying. they win at pilgrimiging. they win at letting their spirituality become a solid and regular part of their lives.

with those two options, theres no need for any damn kwanza. some watered down bullshit made up strip mall phony holiday so you can wear a koofi? fuck that shit. we need to focus up on the biggest birthday of the year. we dont need no stinkin kwanza getting in the way.

black folk, the racists want us to have kwanza. it makes us look ridiculous and lost. kwanza represents something missing from being Christian. racists dont want black folk being Christian. they dont want to be equals to us. they dont want to share beliefs, they dont want to have anything to do with us, cuz they know that familiarity destroys ignorance, and only the ignorant can remain hateful.

worst thing you could do to a racist is go to his church, stand next to his daughter, sing the songs better, know the word better, and exclusively talk about america as if its your home and has been for hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of years longer than him.

watch him smile when you talk about africa, cuz thats where he wants you.

keep your koofi.

pass the turkey.

read the bible.

f old santa

and the kwanza

and the reign deer

and the pooh bear.

and the sleigh bells

and the dead trees.

get on your knees

thank the savior

wrap your presents

say your dumb prayers.

jack bog + negrophile + uppity negro