Reverend Pujo

College

2006-02-17T12:44:00.000-08:00

It's hard, it's tough, and it's taking up a lot of time. Sorry I haven't been entertaining you internet fools. I'll get on that soon enough.

David Banner takes the words out of my mouth.

2005-09-08T07:59:00.000-07:00

David Banner kicks ass.

"I think Hurricane Katrina has exposed America for what it is. I think it's bigger than black and white. I think it has a lot more to do with rich and poor. We've always known that America is a racially driven country. We front like it's all good, but we know the levels of racism that are in America. I think this is more than just pulling the race card. It shows that America doesn't give a damn about people in the hood, period.

If this same thing happened in New York, they'd probably be out there mopping themselves. When 9/11 happened, there was help on 9/12. We sent billions of dollars overseas when the tsunami happened. You know, this is our home. We break our necks to help other people, and we fight for oil, but we can't help our people right here in Mississippi. Mississippi is definitely not getting the relief funds that they really need because we're not getting the TV time. There's cities in South Mississippi like Pass Christian, Long Beach, Biloxi, and Gulfport that are just gone. And these are just regular, ordinary folks. White, black, rich, poor. These are places where our grandmothers and grandfathers stay. There's history in these towns.

America is the most powerful country in the world, but it takes us four days to get there? The things they did four days later are the same things they could've done when it happened, period. They coulda flown helicopters in there or something. America is the most powerful country and the proudest country when it feels like it. They said they couldn't get down there for different reasons, but those were just excuses. I sent a tour bus full of water down there. My bus driver paid with his own Mastercard. I told him to go ahead and buy whatever they needed and I'd pay him back. He filled the tour bus up twice with water, food, and supplies before the American government did. He drove down there from Memphis. Then I came down there myself and I sat and signed autographs and passed out water to the kids for four, five hours myself. How can David Banner, a so-called "gangsta rapper," react quicker to a crisis than our own government?

There's still people in Mississippi without power right now. The water is still not drinkable from the faucets. Then you've got places like the Red Cross using preferential treatment with the stuff people had donated. I had cats from the streets telling me they gave all the better clothes to the little white kids. There's people who are coming city to city and can't get water or food from the Red Cross without a little armband. We're having a national crisis. If people need food and supplies, you should give it to them.

The bigger picture is that we're gonna have to take care of our own people. We're having a big benefit concert September 17th at Phillips Arena in Atlanta. We're trying to raise $1.5 million. This is the first time that every radio station - Cumulus, Infinity, and Clear Channel - all came together, working together with no egos. T.I. got on the radio station and challenged everybody - all the football players and record company execs - and he raised $255,000 in two hours.

I'm glad Kanye said what he said on NBC. The President never gave a damn about black folks. I mean, we knew that already. That's not a surprise. It was the perfect time for him to say it. Personally, I believe that if CNN had showed more white people stuck in New Orleans, the government would've reacted quicker.

I blame Bush for the time it took for them to react to the situation. I blame Bush for not taking this situation as seriously as they did after 9/11. This is ten times worse than 9/11. These are communities; whole cities of people, just gone. We're talking about cities, not just a building. We're talking about a whole coast of people. These are the same states that helped assure that Bush was gonna get in office, and then he turned his back on them. Where was he when we needed him? This is our President!

In the Art of War they tell you that the best way to control the people is through chaos. Most people make their decisions when something happens that sways them emotionally. So maybe this is God's blessing. We as American people, no matter what race you are, we see that now we're gonna have to set up better systems to protect the poor. All these organizations that we're forming now need to stay in tact. We're gonna have to be prepared to take care of our own. And we're gonna have to make sure that these relief funds go to people who buy our records and support us and come to our concerts. Those are the families that I have to be concerned about first, because those are the families that put me in the position I'm in now.

There's a lot more we can do as artists, but I'm really, really proud of the rappers who have stepped up to help. I can honestly say that we've concentrated so much on helping because it's in our hearts and it's the right thing to do, but we don't get the publicity for it. We're gonna have to make sure people see the efforts these rappers are making, because every time somebody gets shot or something negative happens at one of our concerts, they make sure they publicize it."

http://www.sohh.com/articles/article.php/7502

Crazy's cutting my hair

2005-08-12T15:05:00.000-07:00

Most of the time, I'm rockin a badass doo I like to call the 925 mullet. I'd like to say I invented it, but I really ripped it off from the 510 mullet, which is the same hairdoo that 60% of the Athletics have. Basically, you let your hair grow out for a bit, then you seal it off with an Oakland A's hat. This makes the hairs on the back of your head grow out like a goddamn lion mane. It's the shit but it hasn't caught on yet with the teens. Unfortunately, the family doesn't like my choice of hair style. After a lot of whining and bitching, they usually coerce me into getting a haircut.

There's only one barbershop within a bikeable distance of my home and that's the place I've been going to for the past 500 hundred years. The place doesn't have a name, so I just call it the haircut. It's one of those places that takes pride in looking very manly. The walls are covered with pictures of motorcycles, fighter jets, chicks, chicks on motorcycles and fighter jets, etc. They got skinny magazines all over the place for anyone to look at. It's so ridiculously heterosexual you'd swear these barbers are trying to compensate for something.

These guys are brutal when it comes to cutting hair. They really don't cut your hair, they tear at it and rip it up. Their tools consist of a whole lot of surgical shit that hasn't been sharpened or oiled since the 60's. It's pure torture, especially when you have a lot of hair that they need to chop off. I sit down, tell the barber to leave three inches, let him go at my scalp like a mangy baboon, and once he finishes, I look like a kid straight out of the Hitler Youth Hair Catalogue. The guy has cut away everything on the sides, including my sideburns, but leaves my pate all long and slicked back. So now I'm stuck with Hitler hair until it grows out to normal.

If that ordeal isn't enough, these guys are very vocal about their political views. These guys happen to be big fans of GWB as well as all the other right wing nutcases that you hear on TV and radio. With these barbers, it's like Dick Cheney, Bill O'Reilly, and that fat pill popper all in one room. While your sitting their waiting for your turn you get to hear these guys talk about how morally corrupt Berkeley is and how the government should deport college kids who speak out against the Bush people. These barbers are talking about moral corruption when they got Playboy Magazine sitting out for all the 10 year olds to see. When it's your turn to step up to the chair, you have to listen to all this crap and quietly nod. "PUJO YOU FUGGIN PUSSY WHY DON'T YOU SAY ANYTHING TO THEM?" What happens when you insult a barber's pride when he's only half way done with you?

It must've been two weeks since my last visit there, and what a great visit it was. It's a short wait and I get a seat pretty quick. One of the customers next to me mentions his son is visiting France for college, and for no fucking reason at all, the barber starts ranting about the "spineless French."

If there's one thing I don't get about this crazy post-9/11 American behavior, it's this anti-French bullshit. If you have an elementary understanding of American history, you'd know that the US would be non-existant if it wasn't for the French. They won our independence, they gave us a whole lot of fucking land for a million dollars, and then there's that fucking statue in New York, a gift from the French. And why are all these stupid fucks mad at the French?

1) "Them ungrateful bastards don't appreciate all our help during WWII." What were you expecting? An annual tribute? Some of their land? Free hand jobs for every American that visits France? No. After all the shit they've done for us, WE OWED THEM!

2) "They's didn't invade Iraq with us!" Well that just means they're smarter than we were.

So yeah, this barber was just another Frenchophobe spewing a bunch of bullshit hate. This guy is going on an on, saying all the usual anti-French ("wussy frogs!") shit when he get's to the Dennis Miller "joke" that I've heard before.

He says, "You know what happens when you search the internet for French military victories?"

Before he can say the punchline (You get "no matches!" Har har har.), I say, "Yeah, you get Napoleon, De Gaulle, Joan of Arc, WWI, etc." What do you have to say now, fucker?

Of course the guy has nothing because I just shut done his whole "spineless French" tirade. Everybody in the room is secretly thankful that I shut him up, but now he's really jamming the scissors into my skull. It was worth it.

I'm guessing I'm not welcome in that place anymore, but it doens't really matter. I'm out of here in a few weeks, and by November I'll have my 925 mullet bigger and badder than ever. Morals of the story:

-Haircuts suck
-Don't be an anti-French asshole
-Dennis Miller is not funny

Purple People Madness!

2005-08-08T11:57:00.000-07:00

So I just found out that people actually read this site. Might as well keep going at it.

I've lived in the east bay for at least one hundred years or so. I've done everything, seen everything, and experienced everything on this side of the bay......OR SO I THOUGHT.

I'm about to take my dogs to the dog park so they can go kick every other dog's ass. Then Billy Big Balls bursts into the house with a pretty crazy story. "You ever hear of the Purple People?" he says. I say no.

I guess Billy and one of his friends were driving down to Pleasant Hill from Lafayette when they took a wrong turn somewhere. They find themselves stuck in this narrow road with no room to turn around. They keep driving forward for a few yards until they reach a gated compound, complete with guards and barbed wire fence. If that isn't creepy enough, everything is painted purple. Even the guard is sitting in this purple guard house wearing a purple shirt.

At first I think Billy's story is bullshit. Pleasant Hill is too tame to have secret military compounds controlled by militant nut cases dressed in purple garbs. But Billy assures me this place is real. After I take the dogs to do their thing, we load up in my kick ass whip (94 Maxima!) and drive down to Pleasant Hill. We take the turn off and drive down the narrow road. Lo and behold, we get to a fuckin purple compound complete with a purple guard house with a guard wearing a purple shirt taking down our license plate with a purple crayola. The barbed wire gate is open and we see a couple of people dressed in nothing but purple. These sonsofbitches are giving us the nastiest stink eye I've ever gotten in my life. After sitting there for a few minutes, our curiosity finally wears off and we back out of there as fast as we can because these purple people look like their in the mood for sacrificing infidels.

We get back home and start researching/googling these Purple People. We spend a good two hours searching the internets for any kind of information on these dudes but we can't find anything. NOTHING! We're just assuming it's just some kind of sex cult. I mean they did have some kind of phallic icon hanging above the guard tower.

That night was Billy Big Balls third encounter with the purple people. A week or so before, Billy Big Balls and three other friends drive over to the compound in a big juicy white van. They back the van down the narrow road, open up the back doors and begin to paintball the compound. Five or six purple bonzai rush the van but are mowed down in a hail of red paintballs. Now you may think Billy Big Balls and his friends are a bunch of assholes for attacking the Purple People (and they probably are), but these Purple People are no pacifist hippy organic bean farmers. The guard was armed with shotgun, and unlike your average hippy commune, the place is encompassed in razor wire. It looked more like army barracks than anything else.

But other than paintballing the place (which is not a clever thing to do, in fact it's pretty fucking stupid), there are plenty of other pranks to play against the Purple People. My plan is to gather 50 people, dress in green clothes, bring us some pitchforks and torches and mob down to the Purple People compound, demanding that they submit to our true god the Jolly Green Giant or face total annihilation. Once they refuse our one true god, we bring out some loud speakers and play R. Kelly's coming out of the closet song (all chapters) until they submit.

Now in the small chance of a Purple Person reading my blog, let me give you some advice. If you don't want little shits such as myself always giving you a hard time, you should share a little bit about your cult with the outside world. I mean shit, even those Hale Bop comet worshipper/suicides gave the newspapers interviews.

I don't give a shit about drunk driving.

2005-05-31T16:24:00.000-07:00

So my brother tricked me into filming some bullshit get together at his school recently. I went there thinking I was going to film a pep rally or something worthwile, but suddenly the lights go out and this movie begins to play. There's a car crash in front of the school and one of the drivers looks likes she's dead. Police, firefighters, and paramedics are swarming around the scene, pulling bloody kids out of one of the cars and loading them up onto a goddamn helicopter. A driver is pulled out of the cars and is drunk tested by the police (stand on one foot, touch your nose, walk a straight line) and fails. So far, the film looks pretty real, but I'm also not buying it since all the "victims" of the crash are sitting up in front of the audience without a scratch on them. I ask one of the students sitting next to me what the hell is going on in this footage and the student tells me the whole thing was staged the day before and that it was just some lesson about drunk driving.

Once I get the gist of this whole presentation, I get pissed and histarical. Think about the money that was put into that wasteful production (they had a HELICOPTER and actual PARAMEDICS in the movie) just so kids can be taught lessons they don't care about. Despite the fact that the whole thing was staged, everyone is acting all serious as if the crash actually happened and somebody did die. I was hoping that some of the kids in the audience would start heckling the illusion and boo the movie, but everyone sat in their chairs all sullen as if it was some kind of huge travesty.

The two speakers, who were in no way affiliated with the school, went up and talked about their dead loved ones that they lost to drunk driving (boo hoo). The first speaker was a queen bitch that kept looking into my camera like I was from the evening news. She was some huge prosecutor from the state that gets her thrills from giving twenty year sentences to DUI's. She was one of those cocky assholes, full of herself and bragging about how many poor drunks she's put in jail. And then there was some kid who's dad was killed by a drunk driver, but he wasn't from this school.

Here's why I don't care about these stupid bullshit anti - drunk driving causes: nobody I know has been killed by a drunk driver, nobody at my brother's high school has been killed by a drunk driver, and in comparison to all the really heavy shit going on in the world, drunk driving deaths is very very very low on my "cause whore" list. With its wimpy body count, it doesn't even compare to the amount of people President Dick or Chinese communists have killed. Shit if you're going to make a $8000 presentation, do it on something worthy of my attention, like backwards oil conglomerates, genocide in Africa, repression in Tibet, or that damn environment everyone's ignoring.

Richy-rich white skins and their bullshit causes piss me off so fucking much. Everyone drives a fucking tank nowadays, so why are they afraid of getting killed by drunk driver. Their armor plated Panzer-strength SUV will protect them and their six baby litter that's barfing and shitting in the back seats.

Congratulations! You've toked your way through high school.

2005-05-17T19:39:00.000-07:00

Staying focused on your shit when your at a private school full of stoners and mental cases is not easy, but after four years of this dumb shit, I finally pulled it off. I could care less that I gaduated from high school. That academic shit was so easy I could pull it off again in under a week. It's the social life at the school that can make your average Jerome go bananas.

So about my school; it used to be an actual college-prep place before the admissions director fell off my sophmore year. That was a fuckin great change I had to deal with. One second you have a bunch of normal, balanced kids. The next, hordes of junkies in self-denile come swarming into the classroom. It wasn't all bad. When you're forced into close proximity with these kids, you become "friends" with people you'd never talk to on the Berkeley High playground.

It's a real fucked up situation over here. Some kids come from families where their parents don't give a shit about em, other kids act like jerkoffs to their family for no reason. Some kids love their family but they got a bigger thing for reefer. Some kids got mental issues. Some kids are cleptos. Whatever the case, it's hard to find anyone that's balanced at my school.

I'm not one of those anti-drug loud mouths. Let kids do what they want. But when kids lose their self-control and become attached to their pipe, that's when you got to say "CALM THE FUCK DOWN!" This is the problem with the kids at my school, moderation is the word unheard. These kids constantly have weed, beer, and other stupid shit on their minds, and I mean CONSTANTLY. The school admins know a lot of these kids have drug problems, so to make sure the kids are staying sober, they have UA's (urinary analysis for the gangstas holdin down the house in the 925 and 510). If your UA shows up dirty, you're either suspended or expelled, depending on how much you've fucked up in the past. Being the smart and loyal friend that I am, I'll step in and be the guardian Shaolin Monk for my friends. "You've been going over board with that shit, man. You should put down the joint and take it easy for a month or so." And they say, "yO DuN, tEh fukC U KnOW maNN? U doNt nOT EvenN SMOKE TEH GANJJJJJJA!"

And the next day, they're gone.

Having said "see ya" to my fair share of buddies, I've come to grips with the fact that no matter what I say, kids just don't listen to me. So nowadays, when a friend gets kicked out for doing that stupid shit, I either say "way to go dumbass" or I don't say anything at all. I don't have any sympathy for kids that aren't listening to reason.

I'm really surprised that some of these kids are actually graduating, let alone getting into college. All they've had to do for the past four years is take a bunch of art and pottery classes, and since they're never busy with projects for REAL classes, they're always going out and having fun on outdoor trips while I'm stuck on campus setting up the sound system for a shitty debate tournament, not to mention all the other gracious stuff I do around here. Guess what? I still get no respect for it. Kids think I'm nothing but a sucker for trying so hard.

For a while I felt like abandoning all my hard work and just start fucking nasty lushes uptown. But then I started hearing from last years seniors...

Turns out that most of the kids that spent their time fucking around at the school got fucked by the real world. There are tons of great stories. Four 2004 alumns were attending St. Mary's College, which isn't such a bad place. Just a few weeks into the school year they were kicked out because they brought that Wasatch shit with them. They were selling fucking COCAINE and packing GUNS.......at St.Mary's College of all places! Oh yeah, and then there are those two 2004 alumns that I adore, the two that are living the "high" life in the ritzy SLC. Turns out they can't survive without Wasatch. They don't have any friends besides each other and have to come back to Wasatch every weekend just to feel cool again. They've made something of themselves by selling weed and shrooms to current Wasatch students. Half of the dynamic duo is a bum that lives on the streets of SLC. Hahahahaha that is so fucking great! Fuck em both, and fuck the dumbasses that join up with that crew. Plenty of other stories.

So that's my school for yah. I'm done with this shit in just a few days.

James and Kunga, we made it!

My hallucinations are more creative than George Lucas's crap.

2005-05-17T11:00:00.000-07:00

I got a problem with sleep. Every couple of weeks or so, I go through a crazy episode where my head doesn't shut up. No one can sleep with a head that talks as much as an over-excited obnoxious high-school drama club student (that's right, I'm dissing you fuckers!). After the fifth straight day without sleep, I start seeing all kinds of crazy shit, like motion trails, goblins, G. Gordon Liddy, Tongans, etc. If there is one advantage to this sleep disorder, it gives me all kinds of creative super powers.

Two weeks ago was one of those sleepless weeks. I was four days into it and had just watched the new "Return of the Jedi" DVD that has the new shit-magician Darth Vader edited into it at the end. I'm lying on my sleeping board, trying to remember the plot of Episode I and II so that I could be pissed at it. Instead, my head conjures up an almost completely different movie that begins to play in front of me. It's intense! It's trill! It's a force undominated! If it was really a movie and not a sleep-deprived hallucination, it would win all kinds of awards. Best of all, it would be rated R, so I wouldn't have to cater to the little shits that want toy lightsabers. What amazes me is how much more awesome my Star Wars hallucinations are than George Lucas's shit.

PUJO PRODUCTIONS PRESENTS: STAR FUCKIN' WARS
Episode I - The Bad Guys Get Served
Episode II - Dr. Mojo Risin'
Epidsode III - Yoda Don't Give a Fuck

Here's what makes my Star Wars idea so much better than George Lucas:

1. DARTH MAUL DOESN'T FUCKIN DIE AFTER THREE MINUTES OF SCREEN TIME - That's right. Darth Maul could have been the dominant force if George Lucas knew about character development. In my movie, Darth Maul is the main bad guy for the first two films, and he does a lot more than give the stink eye to Obi Wan. He has dialogue. He fucks around with people. He plays mind games with his enemies because that's what a bad guy is supposed to do. Nasty tattoos, horns, and double lightsabers will only get you so far. My Darth Maul has a personal grudge against Obi Wan’s teacher, a grudge going back to their college days, so any time these two fight, its intense as hell.

2. QUI GON JINN IS AN ALIEN WITH ANGER PROBLEMS – In my trippy trip, I didn’t see Qui Gon Jinn as a gangly wuss Irishman with girl hair. In my trip, Qui Gon Jinn is an alien that looks like a cross between a dinosaur and a silver back gorilla, plus his skin is pale blue. And unlike George Lucas’s bullshit movie, he has a history (again, the importance of character development). Sorry if I start sounding nerdy here, but this is a good plot. Jinn’s species has an unique way of dealing with danger. Any time they are under duress, they bulge up and go fuckin apeshit, kind of like Hulk only not so big. Jinn has to deal with this problem throughout the first two films, and sometimes he loses it. In the second episode, Jabba the Fuck throws him into the Rancor pit. Jinn doesn’t use any of that weak shit Jedi cunning to kill the monster. He just let’s himself go nuts and kills the Rancor WITH HIS BARE HANDS!!! Tell me that isn’t cool. Oh yeah, Qui Gon would be played by none other than Ving Rhames.

3. DARTH VADER VS. DARTH MAUL – What better way to slip into the Dark Side than by killing your master’s murderer in a fit of rage?

4. YODA = SHAFT IN AFRICA – A jedi like Yoda doesn’t need a lightsaber. All he needs is a stick and shitty robes. I figure since he’s such an accomplished dude in the jedi ranks, he only needs his stick and the force to win a fight. It’s awesome to see this little dude schooling all these bad dudes with lightsabers when all he’s got is a twig he uses to scratch his dirty green ass.

I could go into a lot more detail about my Star Wars trilogy but it’s starting to sound like one of those stupid internet fan fictions made by pathetic Star Wars groupies. All I can say is that my hallucination was 100X better than George Lucas’s original crap. Someone should hire me to make this shit.

My Room: Fit for a King

2005-05-16T20:22:00.000-07:00

(not pictured: the family of spiders that chew up my neck every night)

Just thought I'd get this blog going by posting a picture of my badass crib.

You want to know how to live a healthy life? GET RID OF YOUR MATTRESS. When you sleep on nothing but a stiff board and a few springs, your outlook on life will change for the better. When you wake from your restless slumber, every morning greets you with a sore back and a stiff neck. You'll start off your day with this mantra in mind, "Fuck this fucking shit! The first person I see, I'm gonna punch him in the chest, turn em inside out and play his rib cage like a xylophone."

If you're one of those dumbasses that thinks those self-help assholes are gonna cure your lameness, you're wasting your time with that shit. Live with only the bare essentials (even less if you can) and all your worries will melt away. Welcome to my goddamn blog.