An Artest of inner strength

Opinions are like third nipples. Having one is okay, but I wouldn't go around telling everybody. Unless, you are me, of course. And by the way, I do have a third nipple. But, every once and while I will let someone else in the NATION™ fire up The North End™ with their opinion. Earlier today, I recieved a phone call from a worked up David Hart. He informed me that I missed my chance to comment on last Friday's Pistons / Pacers riot. So, he wanted to comment on the events and I agreed to let him. Ladies and Gentlemen, David Hart.

As Stephen Smith (editorial writer for Philly Inquirer/ESPN) columnist wrote Saturday Morning about the Pistons/Pacers Cage (Arena) Fight.
-Finally the Detroit fans have taken the stage as the worst fans in sports over the 76ers fans, who earned that title after booing Santa at a Christmas game last year.
Who is really to blame here? The fans or the players? Well, I believe it is the fans. True, running into the stands and face checking someone to their seat isn’t right. But, why would anyone add to the fury of an already tense situation, by throwing something and then jumping up & down like a little girl. I took pleasure in seeing the jumping girls' friend get sucker punched after he doused a beer on Artest. As Barkley says, “If a fan touches you, you have the right to beat the hell out of them.” Some say, these guys get paid millions of dollars to put up with this. Well this is the perfect instance of the Golden Rule, “Do unto others, as you would have them do unto you.” If you were in there shoes, a high stress, high profile job…in which almost every public action is critiqued by assholes like Merrill Hodge (who incidentally doesn’t know shit about football), would you want people throwing things at you. There is a huge difference between drunken fans getting loud at Arrowhead...making people hate to come there….and drunken fans throwing shit. This is the NBA…not Roadhouse. If this keeps up…I think we will see a resurgence of the No Limit Soldiers. Some columnist from Detroit sarcastically said now we look like the thugs of the universe in a hellhole. Well you are…you spawned Eminem & D12.

Okay, Hart's done, this is me, Agdeez talking now. My opinion of the whole thing is that it was freaking awesome. For so long we've watched sporting events on TV or in person. Either way you watch a sporting event, you still always feel removed from the event, like the players are not real. To see Artest jump into the crowd knocked down that 4th wall and suddenly these players became very, VERY real. But, question remains, does a player have the right to beat the shit out of a fan for touching you? I think that it's a judgement call. If a guy jumps out a crowd and stabs you like what happened to Monica Seles, professionalism goes out the door and you have every right to stomp that fucker. I know that this an extreme case, but I trying to prove a point. I don't think that getting a beer thrown at you gives you the right to remember your days in Queens and go all "gangsta 'n' shit" on a dorky ass white fan. Believe me that guy looks like an Opie-fucker, I'm sure if Ron Artest hadn't cocked him, he would have gotten bitched by someone else that night, probably by the Mexican guy that Artest drilled later on in the riot. But, I guess if you can afford it, hell, jump in the crowd. Rail some out of shape turd throwing his tall Budweiser at you, but remember this when you do. When you're proving your manhood by punching me in the face and thinking about how dominant you are, I'm planning a vacation home in the Bahamas and all the other shit you're going to fund for me, stupid. Remeber Ron, the whole reason you got good at basketball was to get out of the ghetto. You acted ghetto and now you have to pay for it. Maybe you can make up some of that cash by following a long line of succesful athlete/rappers. Who could forget the success of such athlete/rappers/singers such as Kobe Bryant, Roy Jones, Jr., Shaq, Allen Iverson, and of course, Carl Lewis.

So, my ruling is that it's a judgement call. Sometimes you'll be right, other times you'll be Ron Artest. Thanks to Dave Hart for his opinion.

cheers.

Return of the Weekend Stats

Sometimes the weekend isn't officially over until Monday Night Football is over.

Trotta Drunk-o-Meter: 9
Number of times in the crotch by Trotta: 2
Times Trotta was thrown in the Dumpster: .5
Shum Appearances: 2
Total Airtime of the NATION™ on Monday Night Football: 1 min
Estimated height of Brian Potts by viewers of said airtime: 6'10"
Prizes won by Primetime Choad this year: 0
Jonny Stunts new name: Jonny Morals (I'll explain later)
Lead held by my Fantasy Football team going into Monday Night: 19
Margin of loss on Tuesday morning: 10
Reason: Stupid Trent Green

This Day In History…

Today is November 18th. Many landmark things have occured on this day throughout history. Here's a rundown:

As a result of diffculties getting their shit straight, The American Railroad people developed time standards, now known as the four time zones. Thanks to them, when my client on the West Coast wants to have a cozy 5:00pm meeting, I have to stay late. Fucking railroad people.

In 1789, a guy named Louis-Jacques-Mandé Daguerre was born. Louis-Jacques-Mandé Daguerre (pronounced Louie Jack Mandy Johnson), developed the first practical film development process. We owe a lot to this guy, for if it were not for him, Jonny Stunts would have no porn.

In 1912, Albania declared it's independence from Turkey. A week later the U.S. celebrates Thanksgiving. A week after that a guy made a joke about the coincidence. No one cared. Or laughed. Much like right now. Coincidence?

In 1928, Mickey Mouse debuted in "Steamboat Willie" with high hopes of one day becoming a national phenomenon. These hopes were realized within the next 74 years. Until, Walt Disney died and their new Jewish leader's vision was crushed by a jewish computer generated fish named Nemo. Signaling the end of Disney's reign of actually doing anything worth a shit and reluctantly passing the torch to Pixar.

In 1978, a bunch of crazed high school rejects moved to a jungle in Guyana to live together in harmony of a group called the people's temple led by the honorable Rev. Jim Jones and the they believed in… who cares. Anyway, a congressman named Leo J. Ryan took a few of his pals down to "Jonestown" (as it called because of Ol' Jim's infatuation with himself) for a fun night filled with dinners, musical numbers, and glimpse of the "torture hole". No, Shanks not the gay S&M bar in Boulder you told me about. To make a long (boring) story short (less entertaining than it already was), Leo J. Ryan was killed by the people's temple. Ol' Jimmy Jones told everyone that because he's an idiot and told someone to kill Ryan, that they all had to die, too. They all drank some bitchin' Kool-Aid that was laced with poison and died shortly after. Knowing that there was unrest and Kool-Aid to be served, the Kool-Aid man crashed through the wall of the compound as he does screaming "Oh Yeah," accidentally killing the only survivors. This was the Jonestown massacre. One of the last great publicity stunts for Kraft foods, makers of cool, refreshing Kool-Aid.

Also in 1978, I was born. Happy Birthday to me.


Trottas-humping-drunken-Julios-while-Mazzies-watch agree that this post rocks!!!

cheers.

KansaShitty

Welcome to KansaShitty, folks. If you were lucky enough to have the word Kansas in your team name this weekend, you lost. Kansas City Chiefs lost, Kansas City Wizards lost, University of Kansas football lost, Kansas State University football lost, a good team in KU Women's soccer lost to Nebraska, and I'm almost positive the Kansas City Royals did something stupid this weekend. And if you want to split hairs (as if it matters at this point), the number one ranked Jawkhawks basketball team had a close win against the Washburn Ichabods. As dwellers in the Fountain City, what do we have to look forward to watching in HD this holiday season? That's right, ABC's runaway hit, "Lost". How fitting.

So, what do you do when you have a Saturday full of disappointment. You head out. The three man street team consisting of myself, J Gee, and The Potts headed out for a collision course with the Amy Spring Birthday entourage. It all started at Fooleries, the roadhouse of the Plaza. It was a good time for about ten minutes when we realized that we were standing in a forrest of people. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to stand right next to a drunken traveling women's basketball team that lost to UMKC that night. Against popular belief that women basketball players are homely, there was nice scenery. The problem was that there was six feet five inches of good scenery, too much for a guy that gave up almost a foot to these beasts. Couple that with being blasted for our team's decision to have a cool refreshing cigarette in a bar, it was time to move on. So, you're tired of being judged, where do you go? That's right, that safe haven of open-mindedness, free of pretension and people trying too hard, Reverse. Hey, at least you can smoke there, even if it is because "you're a model and that's what models do." Whatever. So, we finally met up with the Amy Spring birthday parade. It produced the usual suspects, Amy Spring, Jen Dubs, Paige 1, Annie Flagstaff, A girl named Sally (i think?), and three male porn stars. Whoa, what? Okay, I don't know if they were porn stars, but they had the porn star uniform on. Guys, it's almost winter in KansaShitty. Time to wear more than open dress shirt with nothing underneath. Nice guys, though. Friendly, loud, drunk. We've all been there. After my third twenty dollar drink, we lost The Potts to Kennedy's in old Waldo, and realization that riding in the Amy Spring birthday stretch Hummer might take too much effort, J-Gee and myself decided to meet up with The Potts. Really, nothing much happened after that. What I do remember wasn't that interesting. Sorry. That's it.

Shitty post? Yeah I guess. I've done better. But, that's the kind of weekend it was. Maybe nothing interesting happened because we never saw the L-Train this weekend other than a brief appearance during the first half of the Queefs game, MJ23 was in the motherland of Mexico and Shanks eloped. I don't know. Barwig, what say you? Hmmm? I say that my birthday is Thursday (e-mail me for a wishlist, friends), we have a holiday next week, and things can only get better.

Prose for hoes

Everyone of us has a hidden talent. Jonny Stunts can stack oreos, Potts plays a mean organ, Julio does a decent Dick Van Dyke impression when he's drunk, and Choad is a classically trained skin flutist. But, who knew that our old friend "Baby got" Zach Davis, had mad pen skillz? I was notified by our 8 mile liaison, Don Barwig, that Davis is a poet. Apparently, Zach has written many poems about life, pop culture, bodily functions, and the insights of the 21st century male. I read many of his works and had to choose one for today. It was tough, but here it is. Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you, Zach Davis, master wordsmith.

Freddy Farto

Mr. Freddy Farto
Went to Monte Carlo
to get himself a whore

He jacked off instead
and farted in his bed
and slammed his cock in a door

He likes to take a dump
when he's feeling in a slump
He always likes to eat tots

He's nice and says "please"
when he asks for extra cheese
even though it gives him the trots

He never goes to church
Instead, he likes to search
for the best toilet paper in town

He makes lots of tooties
including smelly doodies
And if they are soupy, he makes a frown

His bottom is aflame
Freddy Farto is his name
he can make flooties at the drop of a hat

He always likes to dance
And if he is given a chance
He'd make sounds with his bottom in 2 seconds flat

His fanny is soft
He sleeps in a loft
Next door to a candy shop

He makes tooties at night
He'll make them just for spite
and he giggles when they go "plop"

He likes Strawberry Shasta
He'll lay logs if he hasta
On the crapper, he enjoys to read

If he eats too much Sonic
and tokes on some chronic
Sometimes, his fanny will bleed

So, say "hi" to Freddy Farto
if you're ever in Key Largo
And bring him a gift or two

He'd be glad to say "hello"
then say "look out below"
as he'd throw down a pile of his pooh

Fin


I know that we have a few weddings coming up within the Nation™. So, if you're looking for someone to write your wedding vows, I'm sure Zach will be happy to break you off some. And if you're saying to yourself, "Yeah, right. I'll let him be my voice when lawnmowers fly." I'll give you his contact information. What up, TransBuddha.

The Legend of the Back Door Ninja®

Ninjas have captured the imaginations of millions of people around the world. Beleived to have originated in Japan in sixteenth or sventeenth century, ninjas were trained at birth in the art of stealth, combat, and deception. Today, we can only hope catch a glimpse of a ninja in a bad movie starring Eric Roberts or on The Real Ultimate Power Dot Net. Long gone is the mystique and honor of being a ninja. Or is it? This is the legend of the Back Door Ninja®. In the year of our lord 2002, there was a well-to-do land owner named J-Quan Gee. J Gee and his two vassals lived in a ranch style home that over looked the mysterious Valley of the Misquito. While Master J-Quan Gee believed in mingling with his vassals, he lived separated from them in his basement chamber with the only exit to fresh air being the back door facing the Valley of the Misquito. The basement chamber was filled with many secrets, passage ways to clean clothes, and spirits. It was not uncommon for the trained attack dog with atrophy, Mazzie to bark at what seemed like nothing, but may have been…… The Back Door Ninja®. One night, one of J-Quan Gee's vassals had come home from his travels to find a mysterious black vehicle in front of the ranch. He went inside to find that the house was quiet and undisturbed. Feeling that he was alone, he ventured to the basement chamber to play with the magical game box that so often did. In the middle of a fiery game of Madden 2005, the vassal heard the soft sounds of a woman's voice. Knowing that the basement chamber was a den of mystery and intrigue he ignored the sounds and went about his business of defeating the Atlanta Falcons. Suddenly, he heard the sounds of what sounded like a battle between two warriors and sounded like the female was winning. Could it be the Back Door Ninja®? "No," he thought to himself, "I am alone and the Back Door Ninja® is only legend." He turned back to magic picture machine to finish off the Falcons, when suddenly J-Quan Gee's chamber door opened. Afraid to look, the vassal nervously kept his eyes on the game. For several second the vassal breathed heavily in fear until he worked up the courage turn around. He turned to find Master J-Quan Gee standing in his chamber doorway, the back door leading to the Valley of the Misquito had been opened and was slowly closing by it's own weight. "What's up, dude?" J Gee said smiling. The vassal sighed with relief that it was only his master. "Dude, I thought I was…" before the vassal could finish, a shadow moved across the window facing the Valley of the Misquito. His breath was sucked out of his body with fear. "Dude, what was that?" he asked. "What was what?" J-Quan Gee replied as he walked toward Bath Chamber. The vassal casually paused his game and when the door to the bath chamber closed, he rushed to the upper level of the ranch style home and looked for the mysterious black vehicle that he saw before. It was gone. The Back Door Ninja® had struck again.
No one knows the true identity of the Back Door Ninja® and Master J-Quan Gee denies her exsistence. Only once has anyone been confronted by the ninja in one of her attempts to escape undetected. It produced an awkward moment in which the frightened vassal that was confronted by her could only say "Hey" to which she replied "Hey" and then she disappeared in a cloud of smoke only reveal Master J-Quan Gee standing in his quarters as usual. Many attempts have been made to photograph the ninja to prove her exsistence, but the pictures came out too dark because her ninja powers are said to include to the ability to alter pictures with her mystique. Only Master J-Quan Gee knows the truth and has apparently vowed to keep his ninja a secret. But, the vassals know that the Legend of the Back Door Ninja® is not just a legend, she is real.

Everybody wants to be somebody

It's days like today when I'm having a hard time finding the words to describe the weekend. It's situations like these when you have to make your own news. So, I look to the fantastic world of the internet to find shit nuggets of news of people we all know… Ourselves. You know, the kooky thing about this internet business is that you could be a famous person and not even know it. That's when Google.com becomes your friend. Even the most retarded person can become a crack investigator and/or news reporter. To start I went through a list of names of people. Some of you bastards lead some of the most fantastically uneventful lives. These were the names that drew complete blanks.

Brian Potts - aside from obituaries and one mention on The North End™ itself, Google has never heard of our friend Potts.
Luke Trotta - Good news, Luke. There's a guy in Italy with your same name. But, he hasn't done shit either.
Joe Shum - A computer programmer, a video game developer, and a lawyer. No Shummers though.
Jimmy Gerard Lopez Jr. - Let's see, there's a Mexican boxer (go figure) and literary character. Nothing about Cabella's or leaving people on the corner of 55th and Paseo at 3:00 am, though.
and finally, Nick Agderian - I did find my alumni post on the KSU art dept section, but that's hardly news. I will say that a few years ago, my run in with the law at K-State used to be up, but sadly for your sake, no longer.

But, while we're on the subject of run-ins with the law at K-State we'll start with our first story about a man named Derrick Shanks. Fans of Kansas State Football back in 1997 and 1998 will remember a thrilling quaterback by the name of Michael Bishop. Man, Ol number 7 had a hell of an arm. Some said that Bishop could throw the ball 60 or 70 yards from a standing position. He was at the helm of a team that went 11-1 in 1997. He proved that he could kick the shit out of a Syracuse defense in the Fiesta Bowl. He also proved that he could kick the shit out of Derrick Shanks in a Burger King parking lot. Or did he? Jeff Moore says he didn't. But then again, Jeff Moore is well... Jeff Moore. Details are sketchy because this happened six years ago.

Long before our favorite stuntman blew out his knee hindering his career in stunt-manning, he had another talent other than the air guitar and dog care. Glamour Gooch was an athlete. Jon Selisker was an Oreo-Stacker. Some say that he might have been the best Oreo-Stacker ever. Until his short, yet memorable career came to an end in March of 1999. Here is an excerpt of the thirlling account of that fateful day. "With those words, his hands sprang into action. One by one, he gingerly placed each cookie on top of another. The stack grew taller and taller. He stole a glance out of the corner of his eye at his opposition. He managed a smile; he was ahead by two cookies. The win was in the bag -- he thought." Truly thrilling.

In the same vein of true caliber athletes, Jim Shum was another. We know Jim Shum as the younger tandem of the Shum borthers. The successor of Joe Shum at the top of Bill Snyder's "wire whores" list. But, before Little Slim Jim was Jaime Rheem's towel bitch, we was a wrestler. And much like K-State, he was good then he wasn't then he was then he wasn't. But, that's not even the story. The story is that Jim Shum has a friend armed with a last name that sounds like a fart noise, that has likened Jim to the Wildcats baseball team? I don't get it, Ben.

I've found more, but I've already written a book so I'll end with Julio. Mostly because it's short and not really that funny anyway.

The jist of the story as it was written was this. Julio and bunch of other people went to Europe to "study."They came back and they missed Europe. That's it. There are a few things they left out. 1) Anything Julio said about the event. My guess is that he said dude too many times or they couldn't print the section about hash bars and red light districts. 2) The picture only shows me one thing. Julio's attention span at it's best. I'm guessing Julio was looking to his right to show off his "trademark" Leon side. The only thing missing at the bottom was (not pictured - hippie Julio. Complete with James Johnson penis haircut and eyebrow ring that apparently, by his own accord, "is for fags" - source- Nick Agderian 1998).

That's it for now. Tomorrow we'll have poetry by literary genius Zach Davis and maybe a word from Cowboy Don. But, for now.

cheers.

Choose and Lose.

Well, the public came out. They made their voices heard (except for the youth vote, kudos Diddy). And they said… nothing. Going into this election, it was my thought that so many people, including republicans, were so unhappy with Bush that you could put a dead guy up against him (werd up to Ashcroft) and Bush was a goner. Unless, you threw Kerry out there. Why? Why couldn't Kerry get the job done? Why is the nation on the fence about the next president? This my thought. There aren't any presidential canidates that speak with a rebel rousing conviction. Remember Howard Dean? Everyone gave him shit for popping off and losing his mind in the middle of a speech and screaming. I thought that shit was awesome. I had no idea what the hell he was talking about, but whatever it was he meant it. Politicians need to take some lessons from Rob Halford. This monotone speaking and shaking little thumbs at me shit isn't going to work. Am I watching debates or in Art History class? If you want the youth vote or a strong showing at the polls for your team, jump up and get down. Don't just say that you're one of us, show me. Remember when Clinton was on Arsenio playing the sax with Dave Koz? Remember when Clinton said that he smoked, but didn't inhale? He did pretty well against ol George Senior. Of course, when he got into office he received a handy from an intern and ate pizza while on the phone making decisions for our great land. But, even then he proved that he was a multi-tasker. So, let's review. He liked music, he smoked pot when he was young, he liked the ladies, he liked pizza, and still got up every morning and did his job pretty well. Sound familiar? That sounds like almost every guy and some girls that I know. Maybe because I was in college when he was in office, but I had a good time. No war, good economy, and really good TV. Some say that 9/11 was Clinton's fault. Put anyone in office before then. 9/11 was coming regardless. So, the moral of the story is that we need canidates, democrat, republican, independant, romulan, or wookie, that can show us that they can represent. Be real. Get mad and yell. Also, it's a plus if they can do the Roger Rabbit at their nomination acceptance. So, keep your eye on Barack Obama from Illinois. I don't know everything about this guy, but so far he sounds like a stud. He gets pissed and doesn't look afraid to knock a sucka out for not listening. If you're like me and think that politics tends to be a bunch of shit, check this dude out. He's straight outta South Side Chicago. That's all I'm going to say.

Vote or Die + Barwig Speaks

Or don't vote and well… I'm sure you'll be fine. Man, the other day I heard someone say something like if you're still undecided, then you don't deserve to vote at all. P. Diddy, a man that has witnessed murders, bad music, and worse dancing has been very stern in getting people to vote by saying "vote or die." I agree that everyone's voice should be heard. I believe that the right to vote is extremely important. I do have a couple of suggestions to get more people to vote or at least not be undecided so late in the game. Okay, it's one suggestion. Better choices. I don't remember getting to choose the canidates from each party. I'll admit that I'm not the most politically saavy person on earth, so really I shouldn't say anything. What I don't appreciate is being told that I'm unamerican or stupid or as Heavy D's former back up dancer, Puff Daddy says, I should die because I don't know who to vote for. All these celebs forcefully telling me who to vote for, P. Diddy, Ted Nugent, Ben Affleck? Diddy should stick to what he's good at, profiting from Biggie Smalls. Ben Affleck should stick to what he's, well… he should just root for the Red Sox. Vote or Die? I'll vote, but I'm writing in Bill Pullman, he made a fine President in Independence Day.

Since Barwig's section wasn't ready today, I'll have to do this the old fashion way. Ladies and Gentlemen, a word from Donald Barwig:

agdaar:I'll bring up a subject, I just need your response to it.
tadowdaddy:Like what?
agdaar:I don't know, yet. I haven't gotten that far. Since this thing launches on the first, it will probably have something to so with the elections.
tadowdaddy: John Kerry is a PoopDick!
agdaar: That'll do, talk to you soon.

That concludes "According to Barwig" for this week.

Silence Broken.

It's been a while, folks. A lot has changed. We've all grown. El Salvador is a father. Again. Somebody is in love. Again. Somebody else is in love. Again. Tyler has moved. Again. Potts is an executive. Well, for the first time. But, at the same time some things haven't changed. Trotta still gets drunk, verbally abrasive and shows off his reproductive organs. Johnny Stunts still helps out in the community by "servicing the neighbors." Choad is still a China-can. And me, well… I'm still taking shots from everyone for everything from being short, portly, and damn sexy. I've been quiet, choosing my battles wisely because I knew that eventually The North End™ would return and justice would be served. I'll get back to that in a second, but first this is The North End™ 2.0

There are still a few flaws being worked out on this page, so excuse the mess. To the right here, you'll notice that logo saying that exclusive content is coming soon. It is. Trust me. Please? It will feature a weekly message from our friend Barwig in segment called, "According to Barwig." A while back, Underwood said that he enjoyed The North End™ but didn't recognize the people I was talking about because of the use of nicknames. Which is why there will be a profile section as well explaining who these people are and which dog they own. The North End™ is kind of like AOL in that if you ask, you might receive, except without the dumb ass commercials. There will be other content TBA. Sorry, it wasn't ready for launch of The North End™ 2.0 but i have this thing called a job that occupies my time as well.

Back to the first paragraph. Yes, Julio has a new bundle of joy named Sir Rigby.

Rigby is a fat bulldog puppy that snores. It's a beautiful thing to see Julio giggle like a school girl when he lovingly gazes into Rigby's eyes. It's beautiful until that fat ass smears a shit nugget across your shirt. Julio says that it has changed his life. He's going to go straight. No more fast women. No more Back Door Ninjas®. Basically, no more of the mysterious playboy thing, which has to be tough. So, let's all blankly smile and act happy for him as we all know he's full of shit. Like Rigby.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I ask that we all take a moment and pray for Johnny Stunts. After years of being our favorite drunk dare devil, age has finally caught up with him. This Wednesday, Glamour Gooch goes under the knife to repair his knee. Although, no one is sure which stunt did it, but one of them blew out his knee. Here's to a speedy recovery. I'll leave it at that for now.

God damn, it's been a while and there is so much to say, but again I have a job. Possibly, more to come today. There's news on Tyler Francis, Joe Shum, there's an election going on, and Barwig has some shit to get off his chest. But, for now, I think we've got a good start going here. Until then.

cheers.