Sunday Morning Church Disservice: With This Ring, I Thee Get Tied Up

A cold and gray Sabbath in Bagwine, Ohio but there is a warm ray of sunshine emanating within and throughout the family of my BFF/OSP, Schmoop.

There’s a gonna be a weddin’!!

That’s right folks, Schmoop’s 36 year old twice married niece is about to become her 36 year old THRICE married niece.

I’m not a numbers guy but I think that’s a marriage every twelve years.

If she keeps this pace up, by the time she’s 72, she’ll be working on marriage number six!! Not quite Liz Taylor nuptial notoriety, but impressive nonetheless.

This marriage is going to be both super and supernatural, ’cause dig it…

The guy Schmoop’s niece betrothing herself to or whatever is a minister. Hell, he could perform the ceremony himself.

But wait a minute sports fans, it gets better.

Not only is this guy a minister, would you like to know what his name is?

RICK JAMES!! And he’s white!! I’ve always thought of myself as the white Rick James, but this guy really is!!

That’s right kids…Pastor Rick James is getting hitched to Schmoop’s niece, who will soon be better and legally known as Mrs. Super Freak.

Holy Cow, can you imagine the ceremony…

When the officiating minister comes to the part where he asks if anyone has any objections, people will be afraid to say yes.

When the minister asks Pastor Rick, “Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?” Pastor Rick is going to reply:

“Hell Yeah I do; I’m Rick James, Bitch!!”

As for Schmoop’s niece, when she says she will “love, honor, obey” she better realize that with Rick James, those words take on a completely atypical and painful meaning.
And oh how I’d like to be a fly on the wall of their honeymoon suite…

I can see her lying bed as a coked up Rick James stands over her. Bible in one hand and a bull whip in the other, screaming:

“The power of Christ compels you to bark like a dog and suck my dick, Bitch!!”

Oh hell yeah…I bet Charlie Sheen gots nothing on the one and only Pastor Rick James.

Amen, and Amen…

I’m going to be here, there and everywhere today so enjoy your Sunday folks, and as always…

Cheers Bitches!!

Black History Month: Black Like Matt-Man

February may not be the warmest month of the year but it certainly is action packed.

We just had Groundhog Day. This Sunday is the Super Bowl and the birthday of yours truly. Also this month, we have Valentine’s Day, Mardi Gras, President’s Day, and…

On the 17th, Ash Wednesday kicks off Lent along with my 46 day long Breadless Journey for Jeebus, but there’s another big event going on this month.

It’s Black History Month, and Matt-Man is all over that like ebony on a Sri Lankan wood carving. Boo Yah and Word, Bitches.

My hometown of Bagwine, Ohio is rich and well-represented in the area of black history and culture.

Former World Featherweight boxing champion Davey Moore was a resident. Johnny Lytle, one of the greatest vibe players ever was a Bagwiner, as is current multi-Grammy winning recording artist John Legend.

But…

There’s a guy I grew up with who has made an enormous and lasting impact upon African-American culture and we to this day, remain close friends.

All through junior high and high school, one of my very best friends was a guy named Van Camp Jones, or as I call him, “Beans”.

We were close. I was close with his sister, Edwina as well. Their parents called her, Weenie. All through those glorious times, it was me, and Beans and Weenie.

We were like a tight knit Minstrel Show act, however the only black face I wore was when I was having sex with Weenie. Nothin’ like havin’ some hot weenie on Weenie action, but I digress.

Back to my original point and the significance of Van Camp Jones in black culture.

After High School, Beans got a job working at the local landfill in Bagwine. It was a good job. He inspected what people were bringing in to make sure nothing toxic got through.

It was during his tenure there some 26 years ago, that Beans would spontaneously originate a phrase that to this day remains a staple of the black and urban lexicon.

One Friday evening right before the dump closed for the day, a huge chick pulled up to the entrance. She was driving a big ol’ Electra 225 with the ass end of it straight up and wide open exposing the ton of old furniture and trash that was contained inside.

Beans stopped her at the gate.

The massive woman got out of her car, thunderously waddled over to Beans and said, “Tell me where to go to dump all of this old furniture n’ shit.”

Beans replied, “You ain’t dumpin’ all of that here today, ma’am. We’s gettin’ ready to close.” The corpuscular woman jumped up and down, and screamed…

“Why the hell won’t you take my trash?”

Beans, shouting in order to be heard over the quaking ground said,

“Cuz…there ain’t enough time today. You gots too much junk in your trunk, Bitch!!”

The infuriated woman drove away, but not before the urban phrase, “junk in your trunk” had been born.

To this day, Beans wishes he had known what he had set in motion, for he often thinks how grand his life would be today had he copyrighted that phrase some 26 years ago.

But it’s okay. We're still a two man posse. He even calls me his favorite nigga.

In fact, since I am off today,Beans and I are going to kick-off Black History Month together later this afternoon.

He and I are going to drink some Wild Irish Rose and watch the Tyra Banks Show with the sound turned down as we listen to my collection of Rick James CDs.

As for his sister Edwina? She’s still around too. She opened a restaurant near Bagwine that serves nothing but variations of hot dogs. It’s called, “Just Weenies”.

Yeah, I know.

Here’s to Black History Month, Bitches. Have a wonderful Wednesday.

Cheers!!

President Obama Vacations on Martha's Vineyard, Conservatives for Patients' Rights Squeal, and Barack Turns Pale

The group, Conservatives for Patient’s Rights has been running the above, Surf’s Up health care ad of late in order to coincide with President Obama’s week long vacation on Martha’s Vineyard which he began yesterday.

Eh, the ad is a little cheesy, lacks that “grab ya and gotcha” hook, and is in my opinion, pretty damn lame.

But folks let me tell you something…I am very pissed off at the vacationing Barack Obama right now…VERY.

Because he is pushing for National Health Care? No. Because he is taking time off? Nooooo. “Then why, Matt-Man”, you ask?

I am pissed at President Obama because when I checked my ballot back in November, I checked it for a former drug using, street savvy, black man for President, not an Evian drinking, Tommy Hilfiger wearing, white guy.

I first noticed him becoming white during the “Beer Summit” he had with the cop and the professor. Did you notice what kind of beer Obama drank? A Bud Light…

Dude, c’mon you’re black, you should have been sucking on some Wild Irish Rose out of a jelly jar or at least been chugging down a 40 of Colt 45. WTF?

And now…look. Look where he and his family are spending their vacation. Chilmark, on Martha’s Vineyard!!

For Godssakes they’re a black family from the south side of Chicago not a family of crackers from the upper west side of Manhattan.

Obama should be spending his summer vacation playing some street ball, and cruising the ‘hood in a ‘63 Buick Electra 225 with tricked out wheels and a fuzzy steering wheel.

He shouldn’t be playing croquet on the back lawn prior to enjoying a drive along the beach in a Volvo…or worse yet, a God Damn golf cart.

I am sooooo disgusted and disappointed in Obama. He has lost his soul.

He’s a black man who has been elected President of the most powerful country on Earth.

He should be struttin’ around and acting all hip, funky, and ghettolicious like my hero, Rick James. Barack should be greeting people with the phrase, “I’m President Obama, Bitch!!” But nooooo…

When he meets someone now, he says, “I’m President Obama, Ma’am…would you like a twist of lemon with your spritzer?” Holy Cow…

Instead of acting like Rick James, Obama is acting more like Rick Steves.

Maybe if health care reform doesn’t work out, he can do a travel special for PBS that highlights all of the quaint spots and bargain stays in and around the Buzzard’s Bay-Nantucket Sound area.

I miss the guy who would orate with the passion and fire of MLK, Jr. taking us all to the mountaintop

All I get from him now is a guy who speaks like a Methodist minister named Bob Smith finishing up his service by directing everyone to the bake sale in the church basement.

Sad.

C’mon, Brutha Barack…get your groove back…get your swagger back. Get your soul back.

I dig your reserved thoughtfulness, but man, sometimes…one has to go ahead and get jiggy with it.

Cheers!!