Coffee Rhetoric: rant
Showing posts with label rant. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rant. Show all posts

May 08, 2007

It's The End of the World As We Know It

I'm puzzled. A whole town is virtually wiped out by a deadly tornado, people have lost their homes, personal belongings, keep sakes, loved ones, and various other momentos, and the news is saturated with visuals of Paris Hilton and her family whining to the paparrazzi about why she should be absolved from her due punishment? What has this cult of personality come to? This worthless piece of racist, overhyped trash (yup, I went there) needs to disappear. What better way is there to perform this welcome magic trick, than locking her up and throwing away the key? I think the punishment definitely fits the crime.
"I told the truth yesterday. I feel that I was treated unfairly. It's both cruel and unwarranted."
pouted Paris, as she strutted her lanky frame down the streets of L.A during a shopping spree with her mother, taking a moment to address the camera hounds, clicking away and recording her pre-jail outing. (Methinks she's addicted). How, is she being treated unfairly? I mean, she was pulled over for drinking and driving afterall, she violated the terms of her parole twice, driving under a suspended license. The average Joe and Josephine would, undoubtedly, have to suffer the same consequence... if not worse. She also went on to feign ignorance regarding the fact that her license was suspended, saying she didn't know, because she didn't read the statement she signed, which outlined that by signing, that she understood that her license was temporarily inoperative. To add insult to our intelligence, she went on to blame her publicist for her current demise, because he failed to tell her that her license was suspended. Pardon moi while I remind this twat and her mother, that she is a 26 year-old, ADULT woman! Why should her spokeswhore(s) accept responsibility for the fact that she simply can't be bothered with following, grasping, and understanding that she broke the law and that one is NOT supposed to drive and operate a vehicle under a suspended license, that she's actually REQUIRED to perform the community service, and attend the designated class as part of her punishment, for driving recklessly??- (She didn't follow any of the terms of her probation by the way). This culture of celebrity is overwhelmingly sickening, untalented, drug addled, and self entitled. When is it okay to drive drunk, spew hateful language, spit on people, not pay your tab, snort coke, and then puff on a large spliff in public? Privilege and wealth does not exempt one from having to follow the law, particularly when other, unsuspecting lives are at risk. I don't usually go on angry anti-celebrity rants, and could give two baby squirts about Paris, but in the wake of what has happened in Kansas and in light of other important, pertinent things unfolding in world events, I think bitch should serve her time, use it to reflect & become a better person, and shut her gob up, particularly when you consider that this is someone who theorized in an upcoming issue of Harper's Bazaar, that the police only pull her over to hit on her (guess she's just that desirable). The media needn't waste another second on her or
her family's bellyaching, about how they think Paris has been wronged... not unless they're reporting on her actually turning herself in to authorities to serve her time on June 5th, and taking responsibility for being careless on the roads and being an overall menace and annoyance to society. I think people the world over have had enough of her and those of her ilk, as this seems to be the straw that has broken the camel's back, where she is concerned. Hey, Martha served her time with grace, survived, and came away from it with a funky fresh poncho and some street cred.

May 04, 2007

What the... ?

High waisted trousers are the "in" thing this season. I own two pairs, a navy blue, nautical/sailor pair with several buttons (which can be cumbersome when you're racing to get them undone to use the bog pan) and white pinstripes and a black pair with red pinstripes. Both are wide legged at the hem.
While straightening up my tiny, cramped closet this morning, I found them crammed in-between several black articles of clothing, and pulled them loose from their hangers. Excited I was, because I had forgotten all about them. I tried on the sailor style pair, and was pleased that they fit the same and made a mental note to wear them sometime next week. So I hung them where I wouldn't forget about them.
Next, I tried on the black pair with the red pinstripes. Um, those were a different story.
For whatever reason (chocolate? french bread? pasta? cheeses?), they were extremely tight around the hip, thigh, and butt areas and I could not, for the life of me, zip them all the way up. I tugged and I pulled. I laid down on the floo and pulled some more... alas, to no avail.
I was flummoxed, for I didn't understand why- (De-nial isn't just a river in Egypt apparently). I'm not one who obsesses over her weight, calories, the scale and such, and grow agitated by thin people who complain about their play-play fat, ad nauseum. I do try to consume whatever pleases me, in moderation and to keep the parts I've been dealt, looking as attractive and unslovenly as possible... I don't even know what my official weight or size are. My motto is: "if it fits and looks flattering, then I buy it and wear it." I've no desire to know such matters, because I don't want to stress over them. I've more important things to ponder... such as moisturization and exfoliation, who's going to win the 50 grand on VH1's Charm School, and whether Ugly Betty's dad will get a Visa to stay in the U.S. Moderation, health, avoiding morbid obesity, and staying active. That's all I care about.
While my weight fluctuates between the same 5 or 10 pounds, I've
also no desire to add excess to my already full, voluptuous frame, beyond that. So I was a bit bothered that I couldn't even zip my pants up. I wont even lie about that. Any excess flesh goes straight to my lower half... my hips expand, my behind gets even bigger, and... well, you know the rest... I'm fond of my full figure, most of the time, I really am, because it's proportionate, solid, and pear shaped... but I'm even fonder of those trousers. I think I over indulged this winter. I know this to be a fact. Of course I'd like to think I didn't, but those pants painted a telling portrait. Am I going on a diet? No. Will I join a gym? Riiight, like that's going to happen. Am I going on a chocolate and red wine hiatus? ... Oh HELL no! I simply need to revert back to portion control and be moderate. *sigh* And perhaps pass those trousers along, to my younger sister, whose hips are a little less comelier than mine are.

May 02, 2007

D'oh!

I'm aghast!
I've been drinking martinis legally, for years (anything before the age of 21 is irrelevant at this juncture in my life) and what has left me feeling dismayed, bemused, robbed, and foolish is today's New York Times' Dining In issue.
NYTimes wine critic, Eric Asimov weighed in on what ingredients constitute a perfect and classic martini.
"Before we discuss the findings we need to clear up a little matter" says Asimov. ... It's come to my attention that some people believe martinis are made with vodka" (my heart skipped a beat here, and I sat upright in my chair). . "I hate to get snobbish about it," he continues... "but a martini should be made with gin or it's not a martini. Call it a vodkatini if you must, but not a martini. Gin and vodka have as much in common hierarchically as President and Vice President." Wha'?? It actually matters???
This is where I damn near had a breakdown and wanted to ask if I could be excused to leave work early! I had to take a few, deep inhalations of breath before I could continue reading Asimov's article. See, I always ordered my martinis with Grey Goose vodka, extra dirty, extra olives! I mean, Asimov did attempt to placate my ignorance by suggesting that vodka can, at times, fill in for gin, but then he pissed on my hopes when he opined that it generally makes a poor sub for martinis and all other gin cocktails. *sigh*
How could I not have known this?? How could all the bartenders who grew to recognize me and my expectant face, and were supposedly well versed in martini knowledge, not have hipped me to this fact? How could they stand by idly, making small talk with me, and not state that gin made a far superior (and genuine) martini than Grey Goose?
I feel like such a hypocrite... thinking of all the times I scoffed at other bar patrons, ordering their Appletinis, Cosmos and fake other 'tini drinks. I fancied myself a straight-up, no frills, martini lover (I make an exception for the Espresso'tini or cocktail, rather). I feel... had. I feel like re-doing my martini drinking days all over again, just so I can get it right. I have to do them all over again! As horrified as I am by my own martini-ignorance, I learned a great deal from this article. Even certain types of gin make a less than stellar martini. Who knew that the stuff was infused with botanicals and spices such as; cardamom, coriander, cinnamon, licorice, and the like? That Juniper was the primary element that separated gin from vodka? Certainly not I. At least I can take solace in knowing that I've never ordered my martinis sans vermouth! Something that would probably prompt me to have to crawl under a moist rock, if that were the case.
I don't think that it's too late for me to redeem myself. Just thinking on the possibilities my newfound martini epiphany has opened up, excites me... Tanqueray, Beefeater, Bombay Sapphire. ...It's not too late.
**Note: Read Bigger Than Your Head, for another martini rant.

April 28, 2007

Bus Tales: The Tell-Tale Toofs

This past Friday, as I boarded the A3... en route to work I noticed it was more crowded than usual. Unfortunately and much to my chagrin, I had to be a standee. I turned and scanned the passengers, seeing if I could spy an empty seat... noting that a few jackasses were merely taking up seat space with their cargo. Shrugging, I decided not to bother and decided to be fine with standing. Now, I realize a lot of times when composing these particular tales, I relay just how unsavory the A.M. (and P.M. in some cases) smells are when I board the bus... the stale, wet potato chip, dank basementy, bad breath stench that swaths me in a shower of stank. Unfortunately I have a sensitive nose that's sensitive to unpleasant odors, and sniffs them out like a police pooch sniffs out hidden crack dens and marijuana gardens. Such is my woe, nothing was out of the ordinary in that regard hence, this bus tale lamentation. In any event, I pursed my lips and accepted the unpleasant wafts of b.o. for I knew I didn't have a long trip to endure. Suddenly, the bell tolled and several people got off in front of The Hartford financial/insurance company on Asylum Avenue, which left several seats free. I hurriedly made my way to a seat towards the middle, and plopped my ample behind and purse down behind a woman, wearing a grey hooded sweatshirt. Suddenly, said woman turned around... nose turned up her nose in distaste... looked at me and complained, "you smell like mint CANDY or MINT or something..." as she sniffed her dissatisfaction with my minty fresh ( and ripe for making out) breath! Startled, bemused, and annoyed, I scowled at her with my best "bitch please" look. She continued to leer at me, like she wanted me to give her an explanation as to WHY my breath smelled so minty, so early in the A.M. I pursed my lips as if to say "turn around" ... She did. I couldn't help but notice during this weird standoff that her breath wasn't so minty fresh, and I'm 110% certain I spied all of three teeth (or toofs) ... making up an macabre and incomplete grill.

April 26, 2007

Update: I'm still doing!

Things I've been up to since the demise of my piece of trash laptop:

  • Still on the hunt for an employer that'll offer me more moolah and peace of mind.
  • Still figuring out my computer situation.
  • Pondering moving out of my apartment and elsewhere.
  • Pondering possibly relocating or "hunting" in another state.
  • Thinking that the "reality" series "Charm School" ain't half bad.
    • Rocking back and forth in a corner, because I can't log on from home.
    • Rocking back and forth in a stall in the ladies room at work, because our internet has been/was down for the past few days, and I couldn't log on from there either.
    • Clearing out, reading, and responding to all million and one emails I have in my inbox!

  • Pondering my love life, or lack thereof. Or just wishing I was making out, anyway.
  • Studying the waves and dimples in the backs of my thighs.
  • Pouting.
  • Thinking out loud!
  • Begging to be swathed in some good, hot karma.
  • Still shuddering over having put my hand off in some bird shit, this past Monday.
  • Eating more garbage than usual.
  • Not eating enough.
  • Eating buttloads of chocolate.
  • Trying to break in my red, peep toe pumps.
  • Thinking how sexy my red peep toe pumps look.
  • Nursing a blister on my left toe, courtesy of my red peep toe pumps.
  • Trying to figure out what to write about, for a new local magazine I was asked to write for.
  • Enjoying getting to know my new niece (who is lazy as all get out).
  • Laughing over my one-year-old nephew trying to formulate cohesive sentences.
  • Realizing that I may have to write said article in long hand due to my computer situation at home (and then type it up at work).
  • and enjoying this AMAZING weather.
  • April 18, 2007

    ARGH!!

    This is me... in a nutshell. Just like Carrie, I feel distressed, frustrated, and overwhelmed!
    The Force just keeps on throwing me those fast curve balls... fast balls swathed in angry, hot flames... with heat that lick the sides of my face when I duck and weave in avoidance of being hit and then burned to a crisp. If it's not one thing then it's certainly (and seemingly) another, with me. I think I'm a perpetual (and unwilling) contestant in one of those dodgeball tournaments. That has to be it, for sure. Either that or the Goddesses are having a field day, are bored, and making me the butt of their jokes. Either way, I'm resilient though. This too shall pass. Must. continue. to. count. in. head. inhale. exhale. breathe.Okaaaay.
    P.S. I used to be bomb ass at fireball, when I was a wee lass. I need to keep those skill sharp and apply them to my current, figurative state of being.

    April 14, 2007

    Beat and Busted

    Sooo... My piece of trash laptop crashed on me the other day. Oh the drama and finality of it all. It was a moody bitch anyway. I must say, punching up the keys in anger probably didn't do much to prevent my disaster. Needless to say, blog entries will be few and far between, until I figure out how to get meself a new computer, with a better temperament. With the exception of today, I refuse to blog the sordid details of my life, from work. Perhaps tidbits here and there... but I'd much rather journal from home. Somehow nursing a glass of wine and sitting there at my glass table top, with bare feet, sweater, and sans pants makes blogging so much sexier. I need to keep my pants on here at work and drinking on the job is forbidden. In any event, I'll do the best I can. In the meantime, I'll just curl up in a fetal position and rock back in forth, clutching my knees tightly from email and internet withdrawal. I'll do the best I can, though.

    April 05, 2007

    A Bus Tale and Random other Gripe

    Being a rider of public transportation there is one trend that I wish would end. It's usually (in my experiences) apparent in the early A.M., this trend. An obnoxious fetor that seeps right into the heart of one's olfactory nerve... finding a comfy little spot to nestle in for the duration of the morning, no matter how much you blow your nose to get rid of the stench, post ride. A fierce kind of musty B.O. ... dancing a fervid tango with stinking morning breath. The two smells mixing betwixt and between one another, finally creating a noxious parfum not likely to be bottled and sold in any fine department store or boutique. Is it so hard to brush your teeth, floss, gargle and scrape your tongue in the morning? More importantly, to soap up the ol' P.T.A. or D. ? (I'll let you figure out what P.T.A. and D represents). Soap and water, followed by some deodorant, never hurt anybody, well no bodies that I know of anyway. A mint, some Orbit, a spritz of binaca... it's all relative and these minute details tend to work a lot of the time. These smells can be distracting and can intercept your thoughts, particularly when someone pops a squat right next to you, breathing in your direction, burning the fine hairs in your nose and melting carefully applied gloss, no matter how far your turn your face away. *sigh* Since when did leaving your house, smelling like hot trash on a hot, humid summer morn, become all the rage?? Perhaps I didn't receive the memo or some coded language got lost in translation. Anyway, I went on a job interview today (at a law firm) and did not come away with a soothed soul. The interviewers were rather, well, rude. I had no idea who they were, because they never identified themselves. Neither of them shook my hand pre or post interrogation, they were dressed rather inappropriately, and they didn't strike me as being experienced in the interview department. I had my coat on during the whole ordeal, which I quickly brought to a close. I left it on purposely. Neither of them asked me to take it off nor did they offer me a place to hang it. The pay sucked, and is slightly less than I make now. They offer a 401K plan, major holidays off, and insurance coverage. That aside, they were basically wanting me to start STAT. One of the primary things that turned me off the most, was when one of the interviewers spoke ill of the person that left the position vacant. Saying she wasn't fast enough, and just did not "work up to par." Now correct me if I'm wrong, but I've been on enough interviews and to enough workshops of the like, to know that during an interview, you aren't supposed to trash your former place of employment, when asked why you left. I assume the same rule would apply those conducting the interview as well. According to this site You're supposed to put the candidate at ease, greet us warmly, introduce all members conducting the interview, and give the candidate time to think about the answers to questions you've asked us... those suggestions among a bunch of other, pertinent and professional ones. Needless to say, they were vague and brusque in their questions as well as to their answers to mine... basically wanting to know if I could "cut and paste" on the computer (who can't??) and if I work fast. Long story short, these unpleasant, twisted and mealy mouthed C.U.Next Tuesdays, wanted to hire a work horse to labor for chump change, who would keep her gob shut, not make eye contact, not develop any work rapport with colleagues, and to not ask too many questions about the tasks. I think I'm going to decline and resume my search.

    March 25, 2007

    Ice, Ice, Baby... Too Cold

    The more I get used to the idea of my never having been in love and of being hopelessly single, the more self-absorbed, self-contained, and colder I become.
    It's becoming easier for me to be dismissive, aloof, and slightly more... well... meaner. I relish the thought of this brand of cynicism (when it comes to dating and relations), and I don't know if that's a good thing. Even though it feels right, at this juncture of my life. I feel that if someone is not willing to put in the time to chip away at the ice and get to know me and know the warmth that's at the core, then he isn't worth the Q-tip I use to clean up smudged eyeliner with. I'm worth it. I am worth it. Repeating this mantra and actually living, breathing, and knowing it, is why it makes it so easy for me to reign as the Ice Queen. I'm discovering that being genuine, honest, and up front is no longer en vogue anymore, apparently. There's no reason for me to live down to that mode of behavior, however. I'll stay single and I'll have my fun if I feel so inclined to indulge, if this is the case. Disingenuous personalities continue to thrive, and I'm forced to proceed accordingly, so as to side-step the trend, leaving callous casualties in my path. Men, women want what they desire, at the expense of other people's feelings. They deceive and lie to get it. Why lie? It's unnecessary, as the intended may harbor the same desire. So as to feel, grasp, touch, and be touched. My bosom is where heaven and earth meet at the center. It's a wondrous playground to frolic in... once the ice is melted. HE should be so lucky to enjoy such delights, if HE ever surfaces and acts right. Read between the lines, for it extends far beyond what is visible here in this picture, and is meant as a metaphor.

    January 13, 2007

    Swag, dahleeng, swaaag...

    The Hollywood Foreign Press Association is nixing celebrity swag bags this year, due to the IRS' crackdown on the expensive goody bags. For some reason, I was smirking with glee after reading this article. These overstuffed gift bags, which can be overflowing with $40,000 worth of free booty, are generally given to celebrities for merely presenting an award to nominees. I never understood the concept of giving multi-millionaires free stuff, they can afford or probably already own. I understand that it may be free publicity for some fledgling boutiques or a new fashion line, but it's gotten out of hand. I attended the Sundance Film Festival in 2005, and was lucky enough to get invited to some celebrity parties, and it was amazing how greedily some of these people snatched up the free goodies. Bearing witness to this swag phenomenon, I found that the rich and famous don't have to pay for their drinks... the bar was open to them (and me). It's almost as if these people can walk around within the realm of their bubble and do and have whatever it is they want. I mean, they have booths and whole cabins set up as temporary boutiques, at the Sundance Film Festival, a wonderland filled with free and expensive merchandise, where celebrities come, browse, pick out 10 Tag Heuer watches, 10 pairs of Gucci shades, luggage, vacations, spa treatments, a luxury purse, and ski attire; which they're fitted for, among other things, the greed and entitlement glistening in their eyes ... all for FREE. Most celebs only make an appearance at the festival, not for the art of independent films, but because they want to shop for free. Then they get on the next jet out of Utah, and go on about their business. I'm guessing Robert Redford never intended for his endeavor to be known as Swag Land. Oh, and don't think that, just because you're a friend or family member of a celebrity and you just happen to be present during this gratis shopping free, that you'll get spillover perks. These things are just for the "it" person of the moment. So keep your grubby, commoner hands to yourself, stand by, and look on longingly at the mountain of electronics, clothes, and jewelry. Certain types of celebrities seem oblivious to the real world... because they tend to mistake the real world for, well, swag. Some of these people go to bars and restaurants and think they don't have to settle their bill at the end of the evening, or tip accordingly, and they approach bouncers and doormen, asking, "Don't you KNOW who I AM???" These awards shows are lavishly thrown together for their benefit. To honor them and their craft. Isn't this what they work towards? Then why should they get free bags full of thousands of dollars worth of stuff? They're getting recognition, a lavish meal, drinks, and they get to party afterwards, all for free. I'm not getting on a soapbox, I'm ranting, because I am glad that celebrity swag is being questioned. Perhaps it'll eventually be phased out all together.

    September 27, 2006

    Move! Get out the way!!

    Dear lunch-hour joggers:

    I think it's rather commendable that you all spend your hour strengthening your thigh muscles and tightening up your derrieres, while the bulk of us opt to stuff our faces, take leisurely walks, or hit a nearby bar to decompress, forget about, and berate colleagues in absentia.

    I mean, anybody who runs on purpose is worthy of my respect and admiration, for I run with purpose: I run for the bus, I run to catch a store or coffeehouse before it closes, I run to beat last call, I've had to run from agitated dogs, etc. Exercise is crucial, and I try to stay active and keep my jelly, curds, and whey as solid as I can by staying in motion. That being said joggers; you all don't own the sidewalks. Some of you are 'right selfish and obnoxious in your quest to reach your hour-long goals.

    I fancy myself a considerate pedestrian. I am not a sidewalk hog, and am always conscious of those people walking behind me. I stay to the right (or left) so as to give passers-by enough room to go by if they so desire.

    I don't relish having to move any further (i.e. smack dab into a branch, fence, or a bush) because you all bully and stomp your way down the sidewalk as if it's yours and only yours, for that one hour. Some of you don't even say "excuse me" or "Thank you" when you need or are given room. Don't get me started on those who run in tandem. Selfish much? I think so.

    I realize we are part of a busy culture, and that it may be impossible for you all to squeeze in an early morning or post-workday run. Hey, I understand that, but give those of us simply trying to make our way down the street to Au Bon Pain or wherever, a break and reciprocate the same respect given you!

    This behavior would not fly in, say, Italy or France, where lunch-hour is taken seriously and teems of people congregate in the streets and wouldn't allow you all to commandeer the sidewalks and walkways. And while I'm on this topic, what do the lot of you do when you return to work?? Do you peel off your sweaty shorts and tees and put your work-clothes back on, or do you freshen up in the loo? Never mind. I don't want to know. Anyway, be courteous and stop being sidewalk hogs.

    Thank you,

    coffey

    June 15, 2006

    The Most Beautifullest Things in this World...

    … Are also the most superficial.During an interview with The Economist news magazine, in which he was asked how his company, Louis Roederer, felt about rappers’ affinity for their Cristal,managing director of said company Frederic Rouzaud responded that they viewed it with “curiosity and serenity." When asked if he thought blinged out, platinum toothed, champagne swilling rappers' preference for the expensive bubbly was disadvantageous to the company’s image, Rouzaud went on to comment: "That's a good question, but what can we do? We can't forbid people from buying it. I'm sure Dom Perignon or Krug would be delighted to have their business." That comment was the nail in the coffin that prompted Rap Mogul Jay-Z to boycott the brand, removing it as an option on the drink menu at his club(s),40/40. "It has come to my attention that the managing director of Cristal, Frederic Rouzaud views the `hip-hop' culture as 'unwelcome attention. I view his comments as racist and will no longer support any of his products through any of my various brands including the 40/40 Club nor in my personal life." Opined Jigga/Jova/Jay-Z/Sean Carter. Jay’s spokeswhore added: “They're trying to distance themselves from the hip-hop community. The hip-hop world certainly helped elevate the presence of Cristal. At the end of the day isn't the goal for any company to sell bottles?"

    *sigh*

    I’m sure after they’ve grown bored with their vain attempt to take down Oprah Winfrey, other rappers will follow suit, and jump on this bandwagon. Wouldn’t it be a more productive and worthwhile endeavor, if the hip-hip community of today, elevated their communities instead? Why boycott Louis Roederer, when they could protest the adverse poverty and violence running rampant in many Black communities? While Jay-Z means well, I find it repugnant and downright offensive that he has declared racism! on such a frivolous and insignificant matter. In essence, he's whining about loss of control over one of the things that symbolizes what rap has become, decadent, gluttonous, and materialistic... concepts that contribute to the demise of our communities. Didn't Jay once rap: "Can't Knock the Hustle": "My motto, stack rocks like Colorado/Auto off the champagne, Cristal's by the bottle." ? He’s certainly not doing me any favors by removing Cristal from his clubs and his personal life and deciding to replace the brand with Dom Perignon and Krug. I’ve never been able to afford the stuff meself? What do I care? What does someone living in a one-room trailer or roach infested apartment sans lights, running water, or food in a gang infested neighborhood care if he boycotts Cristal?? And someone's great-grandparent? What would they think of Jay-Z's claim of racism? Nothing... because they know (and probably felt) the sharp sting of racial intolerance. I think it's safe to surmise that people who were and are truly oppressed and disenfranchised could care even less about his valiant stance against Roederer. Worst case scenario? Rappers will simply have to use Krug to slip-slop and splatter all over scantily clad, video skeezers… speaking of whom, why not boycott the exploitation of young Black women, drugs, AIDS/HIV, lack of arts programs in inner-city schools, the plight of Africa, homelessness, despair, growing disillusionment in inner-cities, etc?? Imagine the arts and music programs a pantry full of Cristal could help save. Why not speak out against those things that truly matter instead of the one thing that aids in helping foster a distorted life of excess and posturing?… THAT would be the most beautifullest thing in this world. To see a rapper actually project his voice (as hip hop artists of yore once did) and use his celebrity towards something more meaningful and substantive… that is the most beautifullest thing. But alas, this feud against Louis Roederer's Cristal- a champagne house that cares less about issues facing the Black community and more about their image(an image that doesn't mirror our own)… and prides itself on catering to an elite, economic class that is far out of most of our ranges and whose price-tag is the equivalent of my monthly rent-will probably drag on for the next week or so or until Jay-Z or P. Doody are placated in some way. Hey Jay-Z, this snub isn't aboutracism... it's about a blow that's been dealt to your over-inflated ego. I mean, how can you "floss" accordingly, if the folks at Louis Roederer can't bear to see you and your bling brethren step-n-fetchin' it up, whilst holding on to a bottle of their beloved Cristal?