You might think this post is going to be some clever play off of the movie, Boyz in the Hood, but it ain’t. I watched the movie last night and I just woke up with “Ooh Child” by the 5 Stairsteps ringing in my head. What a song that is. If that sound doesn’t break you down to nothing on the first note then you are a truly cold-hearted disser of old people, a taunter of children, a worthless misanthrope.
As far as I know, none of the actors got an Oscar or were nominated. The entire cast deserved to get one. Here is one thing upon which I stand firmly. Laurence Fishburne, in his tired old Laurence Fishburne way, never did it better than this movie. Furious Stiles, his best role ever. In fact every other role up to and including “Morpheous” is just his schtick on trying to “get a young brother to understand the deeper complexities of what it is to be a man”.
What am I doing here today, you wonder? Why is he not writing about his stupid bike? His stupid friends? Their stupid blogger “code” names? Well, I’ll tell you.
Hurricane season is back to terrorize others, but to bore Tallahassee to death yet again. Taco gets the “big stick award” for actually calling at 7:45 A:M to try talking me into going out in the slop and the mess. Its not that I wussed out or anything, its about-you know- keeping my drivetrain clean and grit-free.
Today is more of a maintenance and strategy day. After a heavy psi adjustment I will settle in to watch the Tour de France, where another set of BOYZ will roll through an entirely different HOOD, and Lance gets to tell them, “Hey baby, don’t hate the player, hate the game.”