Wednesday, April 28, 2004
THERE WAS THIS EUROPEAN COMPOSER, SOME SAY HE WAS BEETHOVEN, BUT I'M NOT SURE, AND HE WAS LIKE REPEATING THE FIRST MOVEMENT OF HIS SYMPHONY...
...AT A TIME WHEN IT WASN'T REALLY COOL TO REPEAT THAT KIND OF SHIT (THERE WERE 'REPEAT' MARKS WRITTEN INTO THE SCORE AND WHATEVER...AND SOMEONE ASKED HIM WHY HE WAS REPEATING HIS FIRST MOVEMENT STILL, WHEN NO ONE ELSE WAS REALLY DOING THAT KIND OF THING ANY MORE, AND HE WAS LIKE, YO! CUZ' YOU WEREN'T REALLY LISTENING THE FIRST TIME...........................................................
[Five Points, Denver. A bum pushes a cart full of his belongings past Denver Meat Packing, a rundown warehouse. Sirens, gunshots, and a woman's screams are heard.]
Jimmy: Excuse me, sir. [the bum stops, startled] we're looking for a group of people called the Crips.
Bum: You are?
Jimmy: Do you know where they meet? We've already tried the rec center and the library.
Bum: The Crips hang out at that old warehouse down there, [points to the building he just passed] but ...nobody goes in there.
Jimmy: [moves forward] Oh, it's okay. We're Crips ourselves. Come on, Tim-Tim.
Timmy: Timmmih! [follows]
[Denver Meat Packing, inside. The music is thumping, there's gambling and general conversation going on. Jimmy and Timmy walks in]
Jimmy: Well hello everyone. [music abruptly stops] I'm Jim Swanson, and this is my friend Timmy.
Timmy: Timmmih! [awkward silence, then softly] Tih... ti-timmih.
Jimmy: [to a friend at left, as he points to the duo] Well, let us tell you a little bit about ourselves. Timmy and I are both true Crips, born and raised. We're the only Crips in South Park, where we live, and we would love to join your fa-fa-fabtasitc Denver chapter.
Large Crip: Is they for real, manh?
Jimmy: We just have one question before we join your c-club. Do you think it's better to be born a Crip, or to become a Crip later by accident?
Braided Crip: The only Crips is born Crips, dawg.
Tall Crip: Yeah, you can't become a Crip by accident, fool!
Jimmy: I agree. I mean, it's like [enunciates] "come on"! Why do these people who become crippled later in life think they're such great pot-potatuhs?
Timmy: Timmih! [silence]
Jimmy: Well, we're glad you see it our way, fellas. So can we join your g... group?
Buff Crip: All right, you wanna thug with the Five Point Crips? Bitches, all you gotta do is pop some punk-ass Bloods.
Jimmy: Well, sure. Tim and I would love to pop some punk-ass Bloods. We're terrific at it.
Timmy: Timmih?
Jimmy: [turns and answers softly] I don't know, Timmy, just play along.
Timmy: Uh-tu-Timmih!
Buff Crip: So you sayin' yuh down?
Jimmy: Down like a clown, Charlie Br... Down like a clown, Charlie B-broooowww... Down like a clown, Charlie Browh... Bro-uh-own. Down like a clown, Charlie Br-Brown. [music starts up again, and Timmy and Jimmy leave. As they walk down the street a rap song plays]
Jimmy: Say Timmy, did you notice that all the crippled people in that club are negros?
Timmy: Timmih!
Jimmy: That's an amm-mmazing coincidence. I mean, there's not one crippled colored person in South Park. [as they walk, a police car rolls up and the passenger-side officer calls out]
Officer: Hey you kids.
Jimmy: [stops and looks] Well hello, officers.
Officer: What the hell do you think you're doin'?
Jimmy: We're goin' to pop some punk-ass Bloods.
Timmy: Timmih! [the officers simply look at each other and drive off.]
Jimmy: [sees something] Look, Timmy. There's a convenience store. ["Ribs N Gass." A lot of gang members are milling around in front of the store] That must be what the fellas meant by "pop some punk-ass Bloods." They want us to get them some soda pop and treats. [the gang members notice them coming and stop to look. They cross the street] Let's buy them ginger ale and marshmallows. Then they'll let us in the club for sure.
Timmy: Oh, Timmih. [a truck appears in the distance and comes up fast.]
Driver: [noticing almost too late] Oh shit! [swerves to avoid the duo and slams into the convenience store they were trying to reach. The store and truck go up in a ball of flames while Jimmy and Timmy stop in their tracks]
Jimmy: Suh, suh, suh, suh, Sssunday driver!
[back at Denver Meat Packing, night. Jimmy and Timmy are back at the warehouse]
Buff Crip: Yo yo, listen up y'all! Let me tell you about my little Gs, Roller and 4 Legs here. They just smoked thirteen Bloods in one night!
Crip 1: One night?
Crip 2: You're kiddin'? You're kiddin'? One night?
Buff Crip: That ain't never been done before!
58 Crip: And they got us marshmallows and ginger ale.
Crips: [chattering] Uh huh. Cool. He's right.
Jimmy: So does that mean we can join the c-c...club?
Buff Crip: You're not just in, you're the baddest mofo Crips in town! Cipac! [a Crip steps forward] Turn up the beat so we can celebrate our new Gs Five-Points style!
Cipac: All right. [hobbles off]
Jimmy: Wow, these guys really are crippled. [the music starts up and the Crips start dancing] Timmy, I have a feeling that this is the start of something b-b-b-b...b-b-brilliant.
Timmy: Timmih!
[Five Points, Denver. A bum pushes a cart full of his belongings past Denver Meat Packing, a rundown warehouse. Sirens, gunshots, and a woman's screams are heard.]
Jimmy: Excuse me, sir. [the bum stops, startled] we're looking for a group of people called the Crips.
Bum: You are?
Jimmy: Do you know where they meet? We've already tried the rec center and the library.
Bum: The Crips hang out at that old warehouse down there, [points to the building he just passed] but ...nobody goes in there.
Jimmy: [moves forward] Oh, it's okay. We're Crips ourselves. Come on, Tim-Tim.
Timmy: Timmmih! [follows]
[Denver Meat Packing, inside. The music is thumping, there's gambling and general conversation going on. Jimmy and Timmy walks in]
Jimmy: Well hello everyone. [music abruptly stops] I'm Jim Swanson, and this is my friend Timmy.
Timmy: Timmmih! [awkward silence, then softly] Tih... ti-timmih.
Jimmy: [to a friend at left, as he points to the duo] Well, let us tell you a little bit about ourselves. Timmy and I are both true Crips, born and raised. We're the only Crips in South Park, where we live, and we would love to join your fa-fa-fabtasitc Denver chapter.
Large Crip: Is they for real, manh?
Jimmy: We just have one question before we join your c-club. Do you think it's better to be born a Crip, or to become a Crip later by accident?
Braided Crip: The only Crips is born Crips, dawg.
Tall Crip: Yeah, you can't become a Crip by accident, fool!
Jimmy: I agree. I mean, it's like [enunciates] "come on"! Why do these people who become crippled later in life think they're such great pot-potatuhs?
Timmy: Timmih! [silence]
Jimmy: Well, we're glad you see it our way, fellas. So can we join your g... group?
Buff Crip: All right, you wanna thug with the Five Point Crips? Bitches, all you gotta do is pop some punk-ass Bloods.
Jimmy: Well, sure. Tim and I would love to pop some punk-ass Bloods. We're terrific at it.
Timmy: Timmih?
Jimmy: [turns and answers softly] I don't know, Timmy, just play along.
Timmy: Uh-tu-Timmih!
Buff Crip: So you sayin' yuh down?
Jimmy: Down like a clown, Charlie Br... Down like a clown, Charlie B-broooowww... Down like a clown, Charlie Browh... Bro-uh-own. Down like a clown, Charlie Br-Brown. [music starts up again, and Timmy and Jimmy leave. As they walk down the street a rap song plays]
Jimmy: Say Timmy, did you notice that all the crippled people in that club are negros?
Timmy: Timmih!
Jimmy: That's an amm-mmazing coincidence. I mean, there's not one crippled colored person in South Park. [as they walk, a police car rolls up and the passenger-side officer calls out]
Officer: Hey you kids.
Jimmy: [stops and looks] Well hello, officers.
Officer: What the hell do you think you're doin'?
Jimmy: We're goin' to pop some punk-ass Bloods.
Timmy: Timmih! [the officers simply look at each other and drive off.]
Jimmy: [sees something] Look, Timmy. There's a convenience store. ["Ribs N Gass." A lot of gang members are milling around in front of the store] That must be what the fellas meant by "pop some punk-ass Bloods." They want us to get them some soda pop and treats. [the gang members notice them coming and stop to look. They cross the street] Let's buy them ginger ale and marshmallows. Then they'll let us in the club for sure.
Timmy: Oh, Timmih. [a truck appears in the distance and comes up fast.]
Driver: [noticing almost too late] Oh shit! [swerves to avoid the duo and slams into the convenience store they were trying to reach. The store and truck go up in a ball of flames while Jimmy and Timmy stop in their tracks]
Jimmy: Suh, suh, suh, suh, Sssunday driver!
[back at Denver Meat Packing, night. Jimmy and Timmy are back at the warehouse]
Buff Crip: Yo yo, listen up y'all! Let me tell you about my little Gs, Roller and 4 Legs here. They just smoked thirteen Bloods in one night!
Crip 1: One night?
Crip 2: You're kiddin'? You're kiddin'? One night?
Buff Crip: That ain't never been done before!
58 Crip: And they got us marshmallows and ginger ale.
Crips: [chattering] Uh huh. Cool. He's right.
Jimmy: So does that mean we can join the c-c...club?
Buff Crip: You're not just in, you're the baddest mofo Crips in town! Cipac! [a Crip steps forward] Turn up the beat so we can celebrate our new Gs Five-Points style!
Cipac: All right. [hobbles off]
Jimmy: Wow, these guys really are crippled. [the music starts up and the Crips start dancing] Timmy, I have a feeling that this is the start of something b-b-b-b...b-b-brilliant.
Timmy: Timmih!
