More Ice Cream Therapy

My car done jacked up on me...again. Last time it was the damn transmission. This time its the damn timing belt. This car is getting all up in the way of what I got planned. I think it's time to open up the freezer and pull out an ice cream sandwich. I'm dropping out of the struggle for a quick minute. I'm sitting on this here bench to enjoy an angelic frozen treat. Creamy vanilla inside. Two tasty chocolate wafers on the outside. Delicious all the way through.

I see since my last blog everybody has picked up on the ice cream therapy.

The NAACP is there. Those cats are so out of steam its a shame. They're having a meeting with the President. It's not a "I need to have a meeting with the NAACP because they are the heart and soul of the African American community." type of meeting. It's more like "I should sit with that negro group to be in line with my party trying to commandeer these colored votes" type of meeting. Nobody gives those guys any credit. It's turned into social organization in a way. People wave a little NAACP membership card around, talk to other blacks every other month at a meeting, maybe get a little pro-black pussy. Get next to some educated black dick, have a few parties every year, hang with some cool people. Its a sweet deal...but its not supposed to be a singles group or a status show. I give them one of my sandwiches because they still have the word "Colored" in their name. That's just sad.

Star Jones is out here eating half an ice cream sandwich (she can't eat a whole after that "procedure"). She got a job hosting House Hunters on HGTV. House Hunters? Didn't you go through like 10 years of law school and pass the New York bar exam and you're hosting a show about searching for a house? She f*#$ed up marrying that gay ass dude and then not wanting to talk about her dramatic weight lost. Friday she was 450 lbs with chocolate on her face and spaghetti stains on her shirt. Monday she was 165 looking all sick with skin hanging off her face, talking about she been dieting. Soon as she gets fired its a big "black" issue. Ain't nobody tell you to break bad on the folks and talk s#&$ all in the papers all willy nilly. You should've been fired. It's show biz, girl. You know what's good. I'd smack that sandwich right out you're mouth if you didn't look like one of those zombies from Land of the Dead. Ain't nothing fabulous about your body being out of sync with your face. Ya scary looking muthaf#&$ah you.

Its a whole crowd of people sitting around hating the day that they ever heard of adjustable rate mortgages. It was all good last year when they were paying $500 a month for a 4,000 square foot house with a pool and a 3 car garage. They bought Escalades and Mercedes and had all kinds of wild house parties. They were chilling hard. They got that bill on the 30th. That payment quadrupled. Now they looking all depressed in bankruptcy court. The house got that big sign out front. "FORECLOSED". That's what you get for trying to get over ya bastards. Eat this ice cream sandwich and think back to the 29th when you ain't have a care in the world.

It's a whole bunch of people that should be here eating these black and white delicacies but will be joining me shortly. Rappers. Not all rappers just the ones that own the publishing to these wack ass songs on the radio. Lots of good its gonna do you to get paid for a song nobody is gonna listen to in 2 years. Imagine them actually playing "Shoulder Lean" in 2008. Imagine turning on the raido and hearing "I'm in Love with a Stripper" on the oldies channel. I don't see it happening. It was very business saavy of you to do that. It would have done a lot more good to spend that time actually rapping and making better music. Watching these suckas slowly disappear into obscurity is just as good as eating this ice cream.

I feel a lot better now. Thank the lord for ice cream.