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May 06, 2004

Charlie Murphy

So I finally have decided to take the clue from what seems to be the biggest audience at Cobb, the Rick James Bitch contingent. Comedy Central eat your heart out, Cobb got pull.

I bought and viewed the DVD set for the first season. I'm still trying to figure out what I must have been looking at on the TV because this uncensored DVD version is the bomb. I have been busting a gut all night. Chappelle is throw down funny. That's the man I was crackin' with.

I met Chappelle way back in 91 at the Houlihans on 42nd and Lex and we spent a couple hours baggin' on people coming in and out of the joint. It's still memorable. So when I watched one or two episodes on Comedy Central, I wondered what the hell happened. They bleeped him. It made the whole thing soft, like a bad Saturday Night Live. But that's over. Chappelle has invented the funniest sketch comedy since Flip Wilson's Geraldine and Reverend Leroy (of the Church of What's Happenin' Now)

Now specifically to the Rick James stuff. Chappelle is really righteous in bringing Paul Mooney and Rick James into the mix. I like the way he's doing it. I have crossed paths with Charlie Murphy and believe me, that is just who he is. He used to have a club somewhere on Ventura Boulevard. Actually I have a Charlie Murphy story.

When I was in school at Northridge, I did my share of partying. But this was like 84 and 85 when I was a broke student. So I heard about this club in Encino that was Eddie Murphy's. Naturally I had to check it out. So I took my broke ass down there driving my beat up little Karmann Ghia (unlike my boy's whose was racing yellow and slammed with sweet mags and the dual exhausts). So I'm stopped at a light heading westbound on Ventura when this huge black Mercedes is coming up fast behind me. I don't think he sees me at all and so I brace for impact. They swerve and then run through the light, and all I can see when I lift up my head is a jheri curl in the back seat of the Benz as is passes by. At first I'm like, man why didn't he hit me, I could have his car. Then I saw the jheri curl and I thanked my lucky stars.

Anyway, I get to the club and it is straight ghetto. I'm expecting that this is going to be something really suave, it being Encino and all. Instead, it's a bunch of hardheads in sweatsuits and jheri curls and psuedo pimps looking like Orange Juice Jones. I ask around and it's not about Eddie Murphy, but his brother. The chicks are nice looking but it's clearly a ho trap. This party was all about tricking tricks into thinking they were going to see Eddie. I was not about to find any nice college babes in that joint. That was my first and last trip to that club.

I can't say with any certainty that the black Mercedes parked out front was the same one that just missed me. But where else would some drunk Negro with a jheri curl be at this time of night in Encino? It was a goddamned disgrace. Full Force lookin' bastards.. From then on, I stuck to frat parties and Al Jarreau's joint on Sunset, Glitter.

Posted by mbowen at May 6, 2004 12:11 PM

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