is a repeat of a repeat still a flashback? your call…

i may be repeating myself here…

…okay, so i guess we KNOW i am, because this is a flashback bit.

but i wondered if i was repeating on more than one level. see, when i do these i also put them in the archives under the original date they were published (and if you look at the index you’ll see several months missing, but i’m working to dig up more old shit as time goes on). anywho, point is, when i look in the archives and something is already there, i assume i already did a bit on it. two years ago there was a bit done on this date, but it wasn’t a flashback bit, it was fresh. and this bit wasn’t anywhere around it, either. last year the bit was done on the fifteenth, but was introduced with…

“fifteen years ago i did a bit on the fourteenth and sixteenth but NOT the fifteenth. so here we are:”

…and then came the bit…from the SIXTEENTH. i think i looked at both, archived both, and moved on. maybe that bit was better? you be the judge:

12/14/2002: “sports”

ah, billiards. america’s favorite past time…

no…wait…that’s baseball. let’s try again.

ah, billiards. the sport of kings.

no…wait…that’s polo. shit.

ah, billiards. the game where you’re guaranteed to get to sing along with “space cowboy” from the steve miller band. not as catchy, is it?

let’s look at it another way…

billiards is the most racist-themed game out there. let’s check this out. the most common game played? eight ball!!! just another example of the white man trying to incorporate street slang into their world. now let’s look at the game itself. the whole court of play is a lush green field of felt populated by balls. black ones. green ones. red ones. yellow ones. good metaphor for the world you and i call home, huh?

and what happens to all of them?

the WHITE BALL knocks them all off the table into little pockets. it’s like saying, “you’re not as good as me…so get off my table. go back to the pocket, you colored malcontents!” they start off huddled in a little triangle in the center of the table, minding their own business, and then WHAM!!! the WHITE ball slams into them and scatters them all over the place. then it chases them down, wherever they are, and knocks them off the table…into a BLACK pocket. it’s like, “get off my happy little green field, and go to the BLACK neighborhood.”

then it’s time for the final stand off. the eight ball and the cue ball. hell, the game is even NAMED eight ball…named after the BLACK ball. but when are you victorious? when are you a winner? what is the ultimate goal? for the WHITE ball to slam the BLACK ball BACK to the black neighborhood (the pocket) so that the white ball is the only one left standing.

and what happens if the white ball knocks the black ball to it’s “proper place” and then heads to the same, or a similar black plastic abode? awww….you LOSE. what kind of racist shit is this?

okay, let’s take a more realistic approach.

me and josh and eight ball. put the three in a room together, and josh will most likely get his ass kicked. add some booze, and he STILL tends to get his ass kicked. or so it went the night of friday the thirteenth…which was an atypically bad day for me, and he paid, so maybe i should shut the fuck up. all josh needs to be assured victory is for me to have scenery to throw my game off. THAT always helps him. if there were pool tables at hooter’s he would never lose. there is a strip club with tables (the landing strip) but if you’ve ever seen the girls that tend to work there, you’d understand that THAT probably wouldn’t help him. last night he went 0 for 7…and i was not sober. we’ll see how tonight works for him…

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