Bulls, Birds, and 'Byes

When Animals Attack...

That's what their sorry asses get, paying good money for a sport that mindlessly slaughters an animal by baiting it before stabbing it to death. 'Bout time one of them bulls went postal on - oops, bad choice of words today - 'Bout time one of them bulls went Ron Artest on that ass. Go 'head, Jose! I ain't mad atcha, baby!

Somewhere, Nick is smiling. Hard. For the first time in their history, his hometown Seattle Seahawks are in the SuperBowl. I'm happy for them little buzzards. I have no stake in this year's championship game. But since I do love me some Nick, I guess I'll root for those Not-So-Dirty (have you ever been to Seattle? Its Downtown is so clean, it's like walking through a hospital) Birds. GOOOOOO! SEEEEEAHAWKS!

Or something like that.

R.I.P. 'Retta... I nearly lost it on the air today when I had to read that one of the great lights of the Civil Rights Movement turned hers out today. Atlanta's taking it particularly hard; she was as beloved a figure here as there is. Her passing just reminded me how far we've come yet how much we have forgotten.

I'm too young to have marched with you. But I march on because of you. Tell Martin, it's real bad down here. Aaron McGruder may have been a bit crude with it, but we know you feel him.

Time for me to go hit the gym with Char. Oh, and congrats to Terrence Howard. The first ever Oscar-nominated black pimp?

Whoop dat trick! Whoop dat trick!