Veredicto Final recaps soon join the Divorce Court blog. On now: Priest/exorcist instead falls in love with a stripper and a family argument about either moving out or illicit relations, rudimentary Spanish tells me.
Monday, December 14, 2009
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Wednesday Addams -- oops, I mean Monica Gray -- wants to purge Jonathan Gray from their marriage because she fears his mean streak onaccounta the fact that her father killed someone in front of her when she was young. And, CHiPs officer John Baker -- oops Jonathan Gray -- wants trade her in for a Thursday because she failed to tell him she'd been married not once, but twice before.
After sifting through 22 minutes of blah, he lies; blah, she says I'm irresponsible; blah, "he stripped me of my independency" and blah, we're governed by anger issues and call each other nasty names; it all seemed cut-and-dried to me: VH1 should give these two a few bottles of Hennie, and let the cameras just roll. If he was black-out drunk on the wedding night -- which he was -- America needs to see what happens behind the Grays' closed doors.
Call the show Gray's Insanity and let the chips fall where they may.
I know I'd watch. You know you would, too.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
So, a few years ago, when Roseann Jones said "I Do" to William Jones, he was 17 years older than she was. In fact, he's three years older than her parents. Fast-forward to this week, when they was on Divorce Court, because she wanted to take off because -- wait for it -- -- just a second longer -- he's acting like he's 17 years older than she is.
Well, there is something else: He don't like Young Jeezy, and he doesn't like watching Lifetime and BET with her in lieu of his soaps. They don't sleep Plus, "I smoke cigarettes and he doesn't likes that." I think she said "likes" to deflect attention from her smoking in bed. And that she calls him a "fat b[itch]." And, fat bitch seems to have a calendar of some dude he knew, in drag, laying across a pool table, 12 months of the year.
Seems William was in the midst of a mid-life crisis and someone hooked him up, in New York City, with a step-daughter who asked him to marry her after a month or so. The story's hard to follow. But what isn't is that William looks fly in his post-mid-life-crisis cornrows. "She was all about the money," the bus driver says. Beep beep!
Remember Miss Parker, the one who be banging midgets and ministers in Friday? Roseann be looking like that tramp, but with a whole lotta tracks or weaves or whatever them fake-hair jawns called these days. And William looks like a weight-bearing Mos Def at 45. Roseann, she grates on the nerves after 8 minutes, let alone 8 months or 8 years. When you break it on down to the bare elements, the whole point of running tight with a young broad is that the eye-candy do and treat you the way you want to be treated in exchange for a sweet ride and sweet house and supa-sweet dolla-bill stack in her pockets.
William, this Roseann chick and worth the investment of time or bed-side earnings. So git on ya bus and restore our faith in money-centered sexual relations.
Monday, December 7, 2009
In no way, shape or form should Sherrod Coleman be in the running for Pimp of the Year. He mumbles, he wears plain clothes (he wrapped sweatpants 'round his neck "like it was a fashionable scarf") and his bloodline probably hasn't sipped from a chalice since the days of Merlin. I think his wife of nine months, Angela, would agree. Even if Sherrod says she too bossy like the times she "steady telling me" how to drive safely, or when she complains about how fast his windshield wipers is on.
All that said, Sherrod's got a wannabe-pimpin' streak. Or at least that's how it seemed after Angela was all like People was watching us do a little dance so he asked onlookers at their regular bar, "You got some money for her. You want to buy her?" (Sarcasm, he says, because the dude was watching. Not pimpitude.)
The more I heard, though, the more I wish the voyeur had told Sherrod yes. Not only for the black-market profitability of a woman, but because I be thinking he's right: This woman's annoying, and averse to cooking and cleaning like Sherrod thinks a wife should do. But is she more annoying that Sherrod saying "why she thinking I always gotta leave a tip? If I pay for the meal, why I gotta leave a tip too?!" I'll leave that up to you to decide.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Sweet f'in Christ. As if it isn't bad enough that Derrick Peavey stole $425 off of his ladyfriend Tylinda. No. That's nothing. Here's what's bad: Derrick's temper. Maybe temper is too weak of a word. But pathologically violent isn't. He's brawling at hoops games. He's brawling at clubs. He's brawling in front of her kid. And here's what the kind of dude who delicately shaves a skinny beard-and-stash line on his mug has to say about allegations that he be brawling with his wife:
"If you big enough to put your hands on a man, you big enough to get hit back," says Derrick.
Oh really? So, Nicole Simpson asked for it? I don't wanna be hearing about Tylinda's purported cheating and mouthiness and box-cutter wielding and controlling nature.
Derrick's a punk-ass girl-and-child-punching bitch.
And, I ain't got no time for them on this blog.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
I think I should just let this story tell itself in over the course of a paragraph. Here goes:
Brittany Jenkins, a roomy girl, found a pair of size 5 panties in Chris Jenkins' car and, knowing full-well that she couldn't fit an ear in size 5 panties, figured Chris was cheating on her with a woman who could fit in size 5 panties. Chris Jenkins blamed Brittany Jenkins' mama, who'd recently borrowed the car, for leaving unmentionables under the seat. "I don't wear bikinis," said Brittany Jenkins' mama. "I wear the full cut." She then pantomimed pulling full-cut panties up over the hips. She had a cane in one hand. I didn't hear anything else they had to say.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Right out tha gate I was loving me some Michael Salley. Specifically, Michael Salley's "poof poof" magic trick in which he did a hand gesture twice while saying "poof poof" because he thought that'd make Irene disappear. That's some rad shit right there. Rad shit.
So anyway, Irene's all suing for daycare and Michael's all saying kid ain't be his. Claims he moved out to Cali, out to Cali, out to Cali, from Memphis to do right by her. But, after a week he knew she was gonna done do him wrong.
Well Irene's all glaring and laughing and shaking her head at ery-turn. She done programmed the remote to only let the TV tune to channels and shows she like. "I love Spongebob," says Michael. (Porno control, for the kids, she says.)
She also put a lock on the electrical box to keep the utility bills down and teach all of 'em that she meant it when she said turn the lights out when you leave the room.
And, says Michael, closed the kitchen when he was trying to make a sandwich after 8 p.m. That was the cleanliness cutoff.
This dame, she cold-hearted.
When Michael done met her, she had one foster kid. When he moved out to Cali to be a better dude, she had five. "She went and got some more. She got extra kids!" Well, he's got two of his own "by ring." Irene says she likes helping teenage girls. I'm sure a lot of my readers do as well, so that cool. At no point does Michael seem absolutely certain of how many children he has. He's a laundry attendant, too.
Oh, it keeps going.
She tried to get Michael a job "on the Internet ... but I'm not going to dress up like Chuck E. Cheese. There are some things I won't do!"
Then, he explains that she went to Louisiana for three weeks and came back pregnant. (I thought that happened to everybody, no?)
When she had the kid, she says he said, "I'm gone. I'll holler." Michael says he did NOT walk out. That he "escaped."
He claims Irene actually ate his birth certificate. "He had, in our closet, it was a walk-in. He had all these papers on the floor and I'm a nit-pick, I like a clean house," Irene retorts. "I told him if you don't get 'em up, I'm'a throw 'em in the trash. NO! He didn't want to pick em up. So I start pickin em up. ... They in the trash now."
She once called the cops saying he was holding her hostage. The rub: He was in Memphis. She was in California.
Oh, that DNA test? Kid's his.
Ironically, I sense a lot of love amid the chaos in Judge Toler's room this day. They gonna end up banging again. Bet.
Poof, poof. Hickey out.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Hear ye, hear ye: Al Montano is sick and tired of Ivy Montano and her daughter Christina Gobie digging deep for his gold. And Ivy Montano is sick and tired of Al Montano holding back on providing her with the manmeat he vowed to provide in sickness and in health. How's that for some inspiration after giving thanks!
"My wife and stepdaughters are lazy gold diggers who are just using me," sayeth Al right out the box. After getting up at 5 to workout, to work at 8:30 and then home after sometimes picking up his own groceries, the ladies of the home are "sometimes still sleeping or just watching TV; there's dog pukin' on the carpet, dishes all over the sink, the house is so untidy. It's like I'm supposed to go out there and bust my butt so people can just sit around and do nothing. ... I've had enough of it."
Then, stay-at-home wife Ivy said it's all untrue. "If he happens to see puke on the carpet, it probably just happened," sayeth Ivy, claiming bropiece is hooked on energy drinks and doesn't appreciate what she does around the house.
When the step-daughter took the dais, the waterworks began. Over her poor credit history. And mammy chimed in that there's some bi-polar action, and depression, goin' on. I'll tell you what: Christina Gobie looked a whole lot hotter after all this talk. But that's neither here nor there. She just a stepdaughter in this mix. And she's trying, Al, she's trying oh so hard, so lay the hell off. (Side note: Did I mention Gobie got hotter when you started talking about how crazy lazy she was? Oh, I did. Sorry.)
This house in Michigan, it would make the family on United States of Tara blush, pack up and leave. Man.
"All I'm good for is being a maid," Ivy says, "because there ain't no sex in our relationship."
I mean, there ain't no sex in my relationship with Shakira either, but I ain't gonna get all confrontational about it.
Here's my ruling: Al, you make up for the sexual holdout by giving her daughter a gift certificate for implants. See it through to the climatic end, yo. Crazy, bad-credit ladies with jugz, they make the world go 'round.
Man, this went off on a weird tangent. That's what happens, I guess, when a gal that looks as if she's pushing 50 talks about how she goes out a few nights a week drinking tequila.
Montanos, you have redeemed humanity.
So if I have this right, Beth Hunter wants to leave Kent Hunter because he's a temper ball waiting to explode. He's a road-rage aficionado, a homefront screamer both when dishes are left in the sink and when he can't walk out the door when he's ready to go because Beth is tidying up. He uses his work as a bounty hunter as an excuse for needing to lash out.
I call shenanigans. The Dog ain't all chippy with Mrs. Dog out in Hawaii, is he? No, he's not. Because the world is chock full of stressful jobs.
Before Judge Lynn, he got all "Wah, I'm a pussy," complaining that she only gave him one bowl of macaroni when he can eat two, three, the whole pack of macaroni. Then, he corrects her when she's talking about her car -- "my car" -- and her car window -- "my window." Blah, blah, fucking blah.
Kent Hunter, quit whining, grow a fucking pair and, if you really want her to stay with you, which she shouldn't, treat your wife like she's actually the woman with whom you wanted to spend the rest of your life.
You're a scheming douchebag. And Beth ain't much better for procreating with him in the first place.
You both fail every test imaginable.
It is so ordered.
Thursday, November 26, 2009
GYPSIES ON DIVORCE COURT!!! Gypsy "Griftin the Night Away" Joles vs Honey "Licensed Body Piercer" Joles
Gypsy Joles and Honey Joles are gypsies. Obviously.
Gypsy breaks down the septic-tank grift they use, in detail. It involves selling red Kool-Aid for thirty bucks; skimming six hundred. Well Honey, she says they went to a gay pride festival and Gypsy the gypsy got drunk and started stage diving.
He dreams of opening a tattoo parlor, and noted to Judge Toler that "when she found out how hot you are, we almost didn't come to the show."
I just don't know what to believe and what's a grift here. She's in her third marriage; they went to a bar when she was seven months pregnant because she "likes to play pool."
"Is she making this up?" the judge asked when Honey said his Myspace friends would send her noodz.
"Some of it," sayeth gypsy Gypsy.
But, back to the reality/snooker line: I knew of some gypsies when I worked down in AC. Culturally, the women did all the work while the menfolk just chilled. So, why does he want to open a tattoo shop?! Probably because that's what it'll take to get $12K for tattoo equipment outta Honey.
And why is Honey complaining that gypsy Gypsy says he's hungry, or violating gypsy code by disrespecting him like this. Gypsy women aren't even allowed to walk between gypsy men while they're talking.
I would assume gypsies from coast-to-coast will be up in arms by Honey complaining about gypsy Gypsy's bed prowess. Even if he's not all that compassionate, admittedly, and worries more about money than sex.
Judge Lynn called them out on griftin since judges aren't permitted to endorse or empower scam meisters and fraus. No respect for the law means no 12 grand.
Byron and Dominique have been married for five months. Byron says he comes from a line of royalty, that Dominique's crazy. Dominique may be crazy, but she's pretty hot, too, and thinks Byron's a chauvinist. So anyway, I think one vignette tells the entire story of this relationship.
Byron was on the computer "doing important stuff." He starts yelling for Dominique. Screaming from the other room, she says. What did he want? "Go get me the Hennessey from the freezer." Said it was her wifely duty to do so. She thought otherwise, threw the bottle, thus breaking it on the floor. To which he says, "Go read the Bible and see what a good wife should do."
He also noted that men "do the hard part" in reference to having children.
She then mentioned that one time, when he wanted to go out wit his homeboys, she bit him. For an extended period. On his back. She took off afterwards, just circling the block with his car keys in her possession.
That's all for now.
I give thanks for Tim Fleming and LaReagan Fleming on this Turkey Day. The list of reasons now commences.
1. LaReagan says Tim isn't a man because he won't stand up to his grandmother. That she's the lady of the house. When they fight, Tim "runs over (to grandma's house) like a big baby." So she's willing to smack the bitch up. Because her parents raised her to strike back when struck.
2. They love interrupting one another when they're addressing the court.
3. Tim said "I was an only child and I was getting into some things in New Jersey" so he was sent to live with his grandmother.
4. Tim says "LaReagan is more of a man" than he is. He says she runs her mouth too much. The bailiff escorted her away from the mic, thus supporting that theory.
5. He says he "has a whole bunch of complaints." The judge asks for the top three. 1) She's controlling to the point of color-coordinating his pajamas when he's in the shower ... "She is cray-zee."
6. LaReagan says "if it ain't the way I want it, it ain't right."
7. Says Judge Toler, "There's a difference between being real and being rude. You're just rude." LaReagan looked like she wanted to smack the judge.
8. Tim's been on probation for 14 years. He says she seems like a probation officer. He should know. She also drives like "Jeff Gordon" when he hangs out in the parking lot with her brother. She threw tea in his face. "I can't take it no more your honor. If anything, I want money from her." LaReagan's asking for $9,000. She says "you ain't getting nothing."
9. He knows that if he hits her he'll go to jail so that's why he don't smack dat biatch.
10. He suspects she may have put some "GPS in his skin" since she tracked him down en route home from Georgia. Apparently his auntie dropped dime.
11. LaReagan says they argue all the time. I can't believe that. "I'm the one that make your world go 'round, baby. Tell (grannie) dat."
12. They had a battle over salad dressing. She "blowed" up because he left a choice of dressings out on the counter. "Piece of mind is priceless," sayeth Tim.
13. LaReagan is 28. They've been together 14 years. She has 5 kids. She's a stay-at-home mammy.
14. "If I had a plaque, statue, some confetti, sparklers, I'd give them to you. God bless you for the time you've spent with this women. You put up with a woman who wouldn't let you pick what color underwear to wear to bed," said the Judge, who then lit into LaReagan. "I pride myself in finding something to like, enjoy, respect about somebody. So far, I've found nothing. ... You have lost a good man. Learn something from this. ... If he's not a man, it's cause you chopped him up and spread him around the house."
15. Bitch-ass turkey, that LaReagan.
Friday, November 20, 2009
So, Damien thinks he "can be with anybody," which goes a long was toward explaining why Ashley Washington's family can't stand her choice in mate.
Factor in the fact that Damien's all like "she gained too much weight," and that he wants a grand back for the gold chain of his that she hocked, and this has the makings of an award-winning procedure.
That award: Damien is the biggest fucking douchebag in the show's history.
"I can't help that I'm a good-looking brother," says Damien.
Well, for one thing, he ain't.And for another thing, you can help being a cold-hearted scumbag with an over-inflated sense of worth. This, to the point where he thinks it's a'ight to wear a purple tie with a purple shirt.
Gap-toof and all, Ashley deserve better than this fool. I mean, she ain't tight bodied or nothing like that - "buxom" is the term that initially came to mind; BBW is the other-DC-episode-inspired moniker - so he ain't wrong with the concerns. It's just that those concerns are shallow, especially when they coming from some chump who don't even want to hold a job and whines about getting laid-off "without even a day's notice."
Wah. Layoffs are layoffs because they don't come with warning. Otherwise, Damien, they'd be called "planned vacation time."I'd delve into the definitions of "real man," but I figure the guy who insults and admits that he'd stick with her if she just dropped 30 lbs would just ignore them.
You don't need a simple, triflin fool who does little but give an entire race and gender a filthy name -- and chase a Divorce Court fan to the TiVo's delete button before the entire episode's even recorded.
So, this one can be summarized in one sentence: Over the course of a single week, David Abbott's wife and David Abbott's girlfriend had children. THAT, dear readers, is virility. And the value of David Abbott can be summarized best with another sentence: David banged Shannon's friend because Shannon wasn't "paying no attention to me at all."
"You got no class, Mr. Abbott, what's up with that?" asked Judge Toler.
"Been a bad boy," responded the bad boy, who was noted to have said that he banged said friend because he thought she was Shannon.
Dude's 2 legit 2 quit.
And dude's just laughing when Shannon brings up the time he saw her van at a gas station and he'd had four dames with him. "I wasn't cheatin' then," sayeth David, who followed Shannon to Florida to convince her to move back to Tennessee when he knew full well that he already had another hussy living with him.
I can only assume this happens with regularity in the Disney Land of NASCAR-Nation Trailer-Parkery.
Fun fact: She says he has "12 or 13" kids; he cops to about 6.
Fun fact No. 2: I'd have to think he owes her the $465 she needs for the kids' sports equipment.
"He's my first true love," Shannon says. But his girlfriend "was in our bed when I was on the couch asleep. He kicks me and our son out. I had to live with his mom."
"Couldn't get her to quit partying in stuff so I had to start seeing another girl," retorted David, who listened when girlfriend told him not to attend his daughter's birth. "The girl I'm dating is pretty nice. She helps me pay my bills and stuff. She does everything I ask."
I don't know about you, but I think David's getting a bum rap here. What's wrong with impregnating everything in sight, and juggling womenfolk square in the same double-wide?
Nothing, that's what.
Shame on you for you turning this against David, Shannon.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Here's what the Nathaniel and Nicole Williams' marriage looks like after a year:
-- Nicole, who has two-toned hair, likes to throw dishes at people, and break them over their heads. This is only a problem when "their" means "a young daughter's."
-- Nathaniel, who seemingly talks a good game, likes to take Nicole to strip clubs to set threesomes up. This is only a problem since Nicole doesn't like sharing now that they're married, particularly since he wants menages all tha time. And that's a problem since pre-weddin', Nicole was all up on that MFF action.
So back and forth they go. Nicole's lazy and uncaring, in Nathaniel's eyes. The marriage was doomed from the beginning, in Nicole's eyes, even after they shared 13 girlfriends. "When we go out, it's a mutual thing," says Nathaniel, "she was never forced. We got this thing when we get together, we draw women to us. And my swagger's a 100, so you know what I'm saying, it is what it is." To which, Nicole just laughed.
Judge Lynn's fascinated by this point, asking all about the intricacies of threesome arrangment. Well, Nicole interjects that, "they take one look at me and they automatically want to go home. HE AIN'T GOT NO SWAGGER ABOUT HIMSELF!"
She then says that she "just sits back and watch." To which Nathaniel was cut-off while asking what she's doing while watching: "Well she don't watch for long!"
From there, attention turned to:
-- Nathaniel being a pig and not cleaning up after himself.
-- Nathaniel moving his brother (and family) in, and Nicole moving her mammy in to the home
-- Nicole displaying some "angry-sister" syndrome because "you not gonna talk crazy to me."
-- Nicole got two cars impounded on him.
-- Their last fight was about chicken, specifically who got the first plate of it. This is a big deal, apparently, when he took too much chicken and refused to put some back, so she smacked the plate out his hand. Thus, he smacked her, and the cops be'lee'd him. (She says he hit her in the face; he conceded that he pushed her across the floor.)
This one lost all luster when it got away from the threesome talk though. You know it. I know it. And Judge Toler knows it.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
On first blush, I was in Jessica Carver's corner. She was cute during the split-second show intro, in a daytime stripper kind of way. But then she opened her busted-up mouf, complaining about waffles and syrup all over the living room, saying Peter wanted to make her a trophy wife. This lent to the question of, What kind of trophy does a guy wit cornrows who works at Little Caesars want? Or, better yet, deserve?
So anyway, Peter says Jessica's jealous, controlling and unwilling to compromise. I think the complaints about waffle litter attest to all three of those things. "He's straight-up full-of-it," says daytime stripper who says he thought, after realizing she had a head on her shoulders, that "I can live off her."
From there, it turned into a "Who's more unstable" contest. Which is f'in awesome.
Round One: Peter took sheets off the bed, said he was going to hang himself from the balcony. Which is totally unstable, unless it's a 5'9 balcony and a 6'3 dude "hanging." Jessica went to sleep after he'd tried to hang himself.
I call that one a draw.
Round Two: In a heated argument, she scratched him up with a whole bunch of rings.
"I was bleeding, mauled. I didn't want to hurt her," he says.
"I'm sorry," interjected Jessica, "but you need to stop lying."
Added Peter, "At the time, I had an anger problem. I called the police to make sure it wouldn't get out of hand."
"Ooh hoo," Jessica retorted. "That was self-defense. ... He is playing that victim-card out."
Round Three: She's military. Once they broke up, she went back to Maryland. They traded lines on Myspace and he convinced her to come join him in New Mexico. She went, and while visiting him at "Sonic," his friends called her fat (she isn't) and ugly (up for debate, in a physical sense, when the strip-club lights are dim at least).
One time, he kicked her out and took a 17-year-old broke-up braces-sporting chick out on a date, a date that Jessica's money funded, mind you. When the cops arrived at that one, he told them she was a crazy ex who showed up all stalky.
Yet another draw.
All I can say is, thank Christ this wasn't a pay-per-view brawl. I'd be pissed to spend any more than $5.99 on it.
Oh man, oh man, oh man, what DO we have here. Seems that DaJuan Davis wants to leave Tera Alford "after seven years of being together" (which leads me to believe they're playing fast and loose with the term "divorce") because she constantly rides him about what he feeds his step-daughters because they obese, wit' wide hips and all.
"When they ask me to eat, I feed em," sayeth DaJuan.
When asked by Judge Toler what she eats, Tyera, who is one of the two step-daughters up in the courtroom says, "Nuggets. Cheesesteaks. Fries. Soda." I think they're from North Philly with that kinda diet.
So anyway, Tera's all coke-thin, naw'mean? And the daughters, well, Jame Gumb might've liked them for his lady suit, naw'mean?
"We eat out, but he cook for us too," says the other step-daughter Shakema. "We don't eat out every day. Eating at McDonald's once or twice a week is not unhealthy."
"I like what I eat," adds Tyera, "and I think I'm healthy the way I am. I don't think I'm that big. I'm healthy."
Body-image power at its finest. Well, if they hadn't have dragged them roomy kids onto daytime television to wade into the middle of a grown-up problem.
Anyway, it devolves into a debate about why Tera be ridin him all the time. There seems to be a sense of entitlement since she's making all the money, taking care of him and paying all the bills. Tera looks to be an emasculating binge-and-purger. Get away, DaJuan, after you find someone else who'll make bank but won't get on you about keeping the house presentable while she's out in the rat races.
Friday, November 13, 2009
Just when you thought it was safe to put your local Fox affiliate on.
Now, a Divorce Court episode about UFO abductions is one thing. But when cutiepie-butter-with-Cindy-Brady-lisp-and-underbite Alex Vacca has to say, "He has gone completely insane, and believes that the Apocalypse is happening," well, that bears concern. Even if the lady has some gingerism too her.
Seems that Alex's husband has just snapped over the past six months or so. He joined some group called Apocalypse Soon that has all of this proof about super-volcanos and whatnot that purportedly hasten the world's end. Asked for evidence of said end-times, Thom -- a snooty douche who should probably have recognized his dame has a tight, slammingly lithe body and got up on that for what little time we all have left -- responds with an arrogant sigh and, "Where would you like me to begin?" Then, he gets all into that movie trailer about the Mayans who say the world will end 12.21.12 and claims he has consulted ancient texts. His additional ancillary evidence includes:
-- Super Volcanos
-- The return of West Nile Virus
-- Terrorist Threats
-- The Economy
"It's all right in front of our face," he says.
To which Judge Toler thinks that maybe the Mayans just didn't see those white folks (Spaniards) coming to wipe them out on their own peoples' armageddon. Touche, Lynn. "There's always been horror and terror in the world. You're just upset that it's happening to you," she said.
So here's what I'm thinking: Thom is a relatively smart guy, but he's always been enraged that people don't think he's too smart. He hooks up with like-intelligenced folk who said, "Well, we know how to get back at the world: We'll make a case that they're all gonna die. They're not, of course. But oh how everybody will think we have super brains and super smarts!"
When asked what the group is doing to prepare for what'll happen next December, Alex interjects, "They're quitting their jobs. They're selling their wives' crystal and cars ..."
Thom says they're stockpiling supplies and preparing their minds on a "spiritual level. ... This is my calling."
"I don't know who he is anymore," she says. "He's turned unreasonably crazy, and reckless, and cruel. Our future together, he doesn't see that we have a future together, because there is no future."
Thom says he wants Judge Lynn and the audience to get on-board, too. He then displays a hand-signal they do, while chanting "Ohmm" while pressing both pinkies into their forehead.
The court brings, via cam, Skeptic Magazine Publisher Dr. Michael Shermer into the mix. Yeah, he's heard about the Mayan thing. How couldn't he? It's a Lloyd Dobler movie, after all. His advice? "Mayans had no sense of an end of the world" to which Thomas asks in vain, "Did you talk to the Mayans?" This exchange sums it up nicely:
Thom: What about NASA being concerned with the 2012 and solar flares?
Shermer: NASA is not concerned with 2012.
Shermer: I've talked to NASA scientists and they have no concern about this at all.
Thom: I really disagree with you but I appreciate your (input).
Shermer: The worst thing would be that Twitter would crash for a day.
Laughs all around, except from Thom's direction
Shermer: If he really believes the world is coming to an end, he should give all of his stuff to his wife right now. Just turn it all over to her because, what does he need his stuff for if the world's coming to an end.
Shermer: Ma'am, take your stuff and run.
From there, he rips on her for being air-quotes massage therapist. He says she works around germs all day and brings them back to the sacred space he's trying to create. Meanwhile, apparently non-rub-and-tug money is what keeps them in money.
All told, it may or may not be the end of the world as we know it, and Alex Vacca deserves to feel fine. Kick him to the Mexican border, babydoll. You deserve better.
Unless, of course, he's right.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
The first thing I noticed about Ricky and Andrea Owens is that they matched. Well, their blue shirts, at least. But they don't apparently match in dreamscaping (Andrea don't be supporting Rickey's rap and barber-shop-owning dreams) and fidelity (Ricky's a cheater, sayeth wife; Andrea's a passion withholder, sayeth husband.) She don't want all those strangers' hair cluttering their house if he only gonna charge $3-$5 a 'do fo friends.
So anyway, he's onto designing sneakers now for a kids' charity, SOK (Save Our Kids.) He be a hustla, that's for sure. But hustlin ain't doing much bank-roll building. And when some tramp writes a letter all like, "I think I might be pregnant wit cho baby, Ricky," well, Andrea ain't having it. I have a feeling Judge Toler ain't gonna be giving Ricky the five grand he says Andrea "spent recklessly." Especially considering he gave her a busted-up 99-cent teddy bear as a gift.
"He think he Snoop Doggy Dogg, but he sound like Snoop Sloggy Slog," said Andrea of Ricky's game. And Ricky's game involved free-styling up in the courtroom.
He was bad. Not bad as in good. But bad like not a very talented rapper.
Sorry Ricky, I fall on the Andrea side of things up in this beeatch, and that's even if she cheated in response to his cheatin wit her best friend.
I would like to present you with a quote from yesterday's Divorce Court hearing:
"First of all, the date we went on, we were walking down Fremont Street, going to the Las Vegas Strip and the guy that I had been seeing, we were actually separated, I was no longer with him, he had still wanted to try to work things out but because he was so unfaithful to me, I didn't want to be with him, we were walking down the street, we passed him, and because I was with him, I wanted, I walked right past him, he didn't even say anything. We had gone all the way down the street, and across the Strip, and he turns around and grabs me and says, 'Well what are you doing' and starts dragging me down the street... If he wanted to be with me so bad, why is he standing there just watching some man grab a hold of me and pulling me down the street."
The run-on grammar may evoke Arthur Kadyshes, but that's not what grabs me. Here's what did: Fremont is nowhere near the Strip. And Fremont is not the place to go for a date. I know this, because of Freddie Morgan.
Hence, I care not to hear another word. Shame on you, Ortizes.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
So, Rachel Salinas thinks Brian Salinas is a 29-year-old who plays too many video games. Meanwhile, Brian "29 Going on 12" Salinas says Rachel Salinas' meddling mammy gets into the mix too much and chirps when he complains that he didn't like sharing a room with his wife and his wife's 2-year-old brother.
So, mammy dearest (aka Reta Wrase) is in court. She's a terror, a barrel of annoyance. I'm not watching the rest of this episode. How could I after the alien-abduction one, y'know?
Well, I don't know how to git on up in this one other than offering a transcript of the opening of today's show. So, here goes transcribing:
Announcer: After 15 years of marriage, Jerry Chambers is divorcing Patsy Chambers because he's tired of her claims of being abducted by aliens.
Cut to Jerry Chambers: She always talkin' about UFOs, that she's been abducted.
Patsy Chambers: Oh, it started ever since I was a young child.
Judge Toler: Now I know what happened here... When you were at home, you looked at him and thought, 'He got on a lime-green suit, so I have to come in there with something just as jazzy and good.' Since I don't have anything lime green, I'm gonna break out the aliens.
Announcer: And Patsy says she wants a divorce because Jerry's gained too much weight.
PC: He eats bologna sandwiches, not with one piece of bologna, not with two pieces of bologna. The whole package. [Faux big-biting pantomimes.] Then he looks at me and says, 'This sho' is good. [More faux biting pantomimes.]
Fucking splendid. This is what it's all about, y'all!!! And I just don't mean this couple. This is what makes AMERICA great!!!
So anyway, Patsy is saying that Jerry's too fat, while Jerry saying he looks good. Honestly, I concur. Dude's pure pimpadelic. Even if he jumped from 175 to 350 lbs. Dude's smooth. Dude's a fashion icon. And he's all like "I'm not worried about my health. That's what I pay the doctors for." Besides, Jerry says, "she eat just as much pieces of chicken as me."
Yet despite all his dame's heckling, Jerry has the class to say, "She might have been abducted. But, I just thank God they brought you back and dropped you off 'nstead of keeping you up there in that spaceship."
"They didn't pick me up one time and I sleep next to her!" Jerry said while Patsy was breaking down how they just keep coming back. But then intergalactic details came back on Jerry's health.
Patsy: "Number one: They're not fat. They care about their health."
Jerry: "They ain't got no mouth. They can't eat!"
Toler: "You made that up!"
Patsy: "I did not! I did not!"
Jerry: "They look like ants."
Oh, side note: She also sees "dead people."
To which Toler says, "So, you see dead people. You visit aliens. And, you mad 'cause he's eatin' pork?"
Well, they delve into sobriety, lack of sex, book burning and other boring topics that really had no place entering a case about a guy who doubled his weight and a chick who be Reese's Pieces tight with E.T.
I, for one, believe. So please, Jerry, if you see this, use the comments section to phone home.
Monday, November 9, 2009
I'm calling shenanigans right off the bat today. Rhonda is in Divorce Court because Ronnie's a "neat freak" who takes a screwdriver into the bathroom to break down the toilet in order to clean it. I concur with Ronnie that "cleanliness is next to godliness." You see, my DVDs are in alphabetical order and if I notice, say, Friday is before 8 Mile, I will stare at it until I stand up and remedy the situation.
"If the dishes are dirty, they need to be in the dish water," sayeth Ronnie. "I think being dirty is pecular."
Neat freakiness is not a bad trait unless you're in that movie with Julia Roberts when her cray-zee husband went all OCD with the Campbell's Soup plans.
"We know God wants us to be clean," says Ronnie, who even organizes Rhonda's shoes.
It seems that Rhonda is at fault here. I don't know how best to defend a woman who says she'll pick up after her five year old son even when he's 40. Ronnie, he's trying to teach the kid responsibility. Rhonda, she's trying to baby him fo life. Great work if you can get it, sure, but c'mon, Rhonda, you trippin'. Judge Toler right: Let our men be men, lest they roam the earth unfulfilled and unprepared for anything but slangin' rock.
Ronnie's a man of God, knew all the books of the Bible by four. Rhonda, she claims she loves Christ but the "Old Testament don't like women, so being a woman, I don't like the Old Testament. ... They say we evil, we gonna be the downfall of men and that I don't like." When Ronnie got the kid baptized when Rhonda was out of town, well, that's where the final battle line was drawn. And, no amount of cleaning her shoes in the world could remedy the situation.
Friday, November 6, 2009
White people say the craziest things.
Like Myranda Bridges, a dame with an even-too-loony-for-a-circus grin, thicker-than-a-thicket-of-sticker-bushes eyebrows, and all sorts of colors dangling from her neck. "I want a divorce from this worthless, lazy race-tracker who doesn't do anything but care about his barn that's full of horses. ... He loves his horses more than he loves me or his family."
Or like Brandon Bridges, who kisses his horses and gambles on the ponies all while looking like that Bateman guy from American Psycho: "It started coming off the tracks when Myranda here could not transition from beauty queen to wife. She still thinks she should be up on a pedestal."
I mean, in the beauty-queen pix, Myranda's got a tight, tight body. Points awarded for that, but then deducted for whinery.
Seems that she doesn't like Brandon bringing dirty boots home, or leaving his dishes in the sink.
This is like a subpar Honeymooners that wouldn't even grab interest from CW execs.
Oh, so Queenie plays the guitar. Alanis, she's not. She went acoustic with a song ripping Brandon. It was uncomfortable to listen to.
She wants to be an entertainer. But entertaining, she isn't.
So Brandon, who didn't think he could be wit just one woman since sex be his temptation, says they ain't banging much anymore. Myranda says that's because he just comes in all grabbing for breastuses and whatnot without playing fore. She said she offered 15 minutes of bedplay everyday for 5 minutes of cleaning 'round the house.
Go away, Bridges x2.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
I imagine this is what Neil Armstrong felt like when he took those first human steps on la luna, or Edison when he got that jolt. Even three seconds into the intro, this was the case I was meant to blog about. Nay. This is the case I was born to blog about. (If such woefully uninspired
Let's start with some politically incorrect initial observations: I was thinking that they met either a) online b) through a mail-order-bride catalog or c) at a massage parlor. Their relationship was loving enough that he'd invested in an enhancement or two, three, hell-if-I-know for her. I suspect that this rendered him unable to go to that year's Renaissance Faire, where each year he tries to up his game as something along the lines of an Orc, or a misunderstood magician. Hard to know for sure.
Then she starts shrieking. Cultural differences that he doesn't respect. "He's a bigot. He does not understand my Chinese culture."
"Well, we're in the United States," he chimes in after some hardly intelligibility out of Dame Ling.
Looking at her is like looking at one of those picture-in-a-picture things. But looking at him, he's creepy. And he seems paranoid. Skinny, but jowly. He's got coin. He got the opposite of augmented.
Then it goes off the rails.
Her panto-screeching. She said she eats steak and potatoes sometimes. Then, she breaks out a duck-head: "I know. It does. NoT looK thaT PRUE-EETY but if you EAT duCK MEAT, this is just PART of DUCK which happenstobe a HEAD, it doesn't lookverygood, [undecipherable]."
Judge for yourself...
... Then, it was a chicken claw. "Black folks eat chicken feet, right," interjects Judge Toler. "I mean," hands involved in the conversation, "It's part of our thang. We do do that."
Hoof of pig, "which is called a hog."
"If you eat ham, which you do eat ham, you eat ham. If you eat ham I don't see any reason you can not eat a pig feet."
Then, it's his turn. She won't hold his hand in public. She disrespects people in clubs when she's dancing with "her wild moves."
That, apparently, is baloney or bologna. But not really. They got tossed from the bar. I can't imagine why.
Well, 12 minutes in, Cheryl has morphed into the Full Metal Jacket hooker once they make the transition to what I think was Hanoi? The love-you-long-time one. She dances around in a circle as the audience and judge clap along and Go Girl'er.
He brings her naughty unmentionables in in a purple bag. (She dragged the stand flailing to grab stuff; she says the pink body thong is his: "He wear it! AHHHK!")
She brings an autographed White Jesus card into the mix. She recites some of White Jesus gridiron statistics.
And by the end of it, I thought, for a split second, that her facial bones had shifted. Chalk it up to life's mysteries.
They must've met in a parlor.
I googled Chris and Cheryl. This is what I came up with:
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Ok, so Sara thinks Floyd's cheating because he had two (of three) condoms on him one time and he responded that he was holding them "for a friend." He also purportedly puts his rap career before family building. Same old song and dance, really.
I mean, back in my 20s, when I had Top 40 rap-dance hits (as the third member of Kid 'N Play), I was accused of the same thing. It all worked out alright for me. But it doesn't seem to be working out well for Floyd, who stuttered his way clear into admitting that he had, in fact, cheated wit some womenfolk. "I can't control what women send to my phone," Floyd said when asked about noodz popping up -- no pun intended -- on his cellie.
She says they have problems communicating. I wish that extended to an aversion to appearing on televised Divorce Court. The bar is high here, folks, as well it should be. This case just don't surpass it. So, thank Christ a SEPTA press conference interrupted the case 15 minutes in.
Which leads me to another point: The TWU 234 union, and its leader Willie Brown, are morally inferior to each and every person that I've seen on Divorce Court in the past 10 months.
Let's compile a little list:
Ernesto Bailey had his wife Sierra's parents arrested for threatening him. "I'd do it again. I wish I'd have did it again yesterday," he says. He also confirms that he did, in fact, hit Sierra's dad.
Ernesto Bailey knocked another lady up. Sierra hasn't cheated.
Sierra Bailey burned Ernesto's clothes; she says he can't hold a job. (Like the time he quit a job throwing boxes because someone threw a box at him.)
Ernesto Bailey claims he's been working non-stop for seven years since "she's the boss."
Sierra Bailey seems really mouthy, and not in a good way.
Ernesto Bailey, who likes to hang out outside of "his building" alone, seems really controlling about his bride showing some skin, and not in a good way.
To mine eyes, this seems like a draw.
But there is a very important point to be made here: PHILLY GETS A SHOUT-OUT, YO! I mean, it's not a big one. Ernesto merely pointed out that Sierra went to Philadelphia with her parents one time.
And, at that point, it all made sense: Sierra totally seems like she's got Strawberry Mansion or Olney all up in her genes 'n sh*t. I should've known the second I heard she had had another guy's baby.
Sierra wins. It is so ordered.