C-Moron

In my spare time, I like to read about rappers and rapper gossip. Today I came across this amazing story.

It's a story about this guy.

His name is C-Murder.

But C-Murder is changing his name. He's worried his name unfairly prejudices people against him as he is trying to get parole for gunning down a 16-year-old outside a nightclub.

Money quote: "People hear the name C-Murder and they don't realize that the name simply means that I have seen many murders."

"Yes, and sometimes those murders were committed by me."

So what name is he changing to?

C-Miller

"In addition to the many murders I see on a daily basis, I also see many men who pulverize and crush grain and other coarse substances into smaller particles."

For real.

The Time Of Your Redemption Has Arrived

Here's something you don't see everyday.

A long line of RVs with Jews staring out the windows.

In fact, you don't just not see that everyday. You could easily go your entire life and never see that. So what the hell was going on?

A MITZVAH TANK PARADE!

Which, of course, begs the question - What's a MITZVAH TANK?

Duh. There must have been at least sixty of these MITZVAH TANKS barreling down Sixth Avenue this afternoon. They were running red lights, blocking traffic - even pedestrians couldn't cross. And the denizens of Chelsea were not having it - horns here honking, sirens were blaring, people were yelling, the RVs were blasting some kind of unrecognizable music from their tinny speakers. It was pure chaos.

At one point, after we'd been waiting for at least three or four minutes to get a chance to cross the street, an older lady on an electric scooter in front of me turned back and said, "Feh! This isn't a MITZVAH PARADE, it's a CHUTZPAH PARADE."

Zing!

But before we even hardly had time to laugh...they were gone.

Goodbye Camping Jews! We hardly knew ye!

And now, my career is being felt up

I did extra work on a commercial for Arrid Extra Dry last week.

This particular commercial featured a dude telling America how he had recently joined the "Wetness Protection Program"...to protect...against...wetness. Just like the Witness Protection Program protects...against...witnesses.

Right?

That's right isn't it?

Anyway, a large part of my day was spent crammed in an elevator with 10 other extras. For some reason the director decided he was too important to talk to extras, so even though we could hear him, he would tell another guy what to tell us and pretend we were deaf. So for 45 minutes while they set-up the shot, over and over again we heard:

DIRECTOR: Tell the guy in the yellow shirt to move one step to his right.

OTHER GUY: Could you move one step to your right?

DIRECTOR: Tell him that's too far.

OTHER GUY: That's too far.

It was exhilirating. And once they got us all suitably crammed against each other, the elevator doors kept alternately closing or not closing at the right/wrong times, so we stood for another 3 hours while the star of the commercial repeated over and over again, "And now, my career is looking up!"

Sweet, sweet irony.

On the train-ride home, one of the other extras - a 55-year-old guy who I barely talked to all day - said, "Did you see that one girl with the cleavage? Man, I had to be pressed up right against her in that elevator. It was so tough, smelling her and with those tits. I couldn't decide if I should apologize or just try to do it."

Yeah.

To protect...against...wetness.