Anyone who inadvertendly knocks himself out while masterbating and then-there-after covers up the Jason Biggs-esque blunder with, “Oh, yea, sorry about the post-oral surgery orbital bruising, Shits fucked up.” is a champion in my book. I Scallenge anyone to look worse on media day. Including you, Kris Humphries. #HitEm
If you haven’t peeped the bio, we’re Cambridge bred. We’re also Beaver Country Day Alums. Jacquil Taylor is both. And as of last night, Jacquil pledged the presumed next four years of his life to Head Coach Matt Painter of the Purdue Boilermakers. Despite the looming concerns of a broken foot, the 6’10 rim protector battled with a determination and resiliency characteristic of this city’s basketball culture. The likes of the University of Miami, Kansas State, VCU and George Mason soon came knocking, but in the end, all things set sail towards West Lafayette, Indiana. And now Jacquil becomes part of a pantheon of high major commits that most notably includes Patrick Ewing (yup), Michigan’s own Rumeal Robinson, Michael Carter-Williams (he’s from Cambridge!) and the LEGEND formally known as Wayne Turner (Wayne might have the most intriguing narrative of all Kentucky alum. Yes, better than Nazr Mohammad). Some crazy company to join.
A kid near flawless in the department of character, Taylor brings a defensive oriented skill set to go along with an intriguing ceiling for development on the offensive end. From a critics perspective, Jacquil’s skillset doesn’t exactly come full circle via this snid-bit highlight tape—most highlight tapes often times fail in doing a player’s game justice for better or worse. Nonetheless, Jacquil balls. Fluid, fully extended jump hooks to his strong (left) hand, an ever-evolving stroke with the potential to extend out to 20 plus feet, HANDS, a defensive mainstay who will forever and always challenge anything at the rim. Of course, the learning of curve of having to adjust to the size, strength and physicality of the next level will take its toll; just ask all our freshman here at the University of Miami—you dont’ know what this level is really like until you play alongside nine other high profile guys with two to three years of collegiate experience on the same floor. Eye opening to say the least. But that ain’t nothing but a thing of down the road concern. For now, the focus is on enjoying the moment and a full year’s worth of development. Salute to you, your brother Mo Mo (Question: Is ballin’ at North Carolina A&T not the best thing ever?) and the rest of the family. Crazy respect for the homie Jacquil. #HitEm
P.S. Mo Mo, I want an interview about this in about 4 months.
a.) This is the most outlandish outfit ever rocked to a Teen Choice Awards.
b.) If Russ had enough hair to pull the sides and top back, he’d more or less look like a Geisha
c.) Russ is “Swangin’” as opposed to “Swaggin’”. I’m going out on an accurate limb here and calling the word “Swag” forever outdated. Like, I saw some squid in Martha’s Vineyard wearing a Nike “Swag Unit” t-shirt and immediately decided the word shall no longer be uttered. At least in Chris Kattan’s vicinity, that is. I’ll projectile vomit. “Swag”: Out. “Swangin’”: In.
No. The synchronization and the kid on the water slide presumptuously make the attempt more impressive than it actually is. Break down its most basic elements and the dunk is essentially a lob from some fat shween in yellow trunks. Nonetheless, I’ll begrudgingly give those titties two thumbs up. Not to mention points are awarded to dude who emphatically finishes the play. The geometry of that pool gives me the creeps. Serious balls to come on in hot.
Ultimately, with regards to the pantheon of group pool dunkers, it definitely beats these losers
These jamokes might take the cake
And these little shitheads should go kill themselves.
Do I need say much more than, “Oh, my Sweet Jesus”? And, yes, he came down hard on some pussy with a stomach full of sashimi later that night. And when I mean that night, I mean in a shower post jumping into a pond full of shit. But, hey, he got it done at least. Senior Week, Brother.
I’d shit my pants if I ever had to fight this former night club manager/ex-bus driver. I’d shit my pants for a full week if I had to fight this nightmare come true looking like the Clown from Stephen King’s IT (Believe it or not, this shithead enters the ring dressed as a Clown on occasion. Yikes). The Clown from IT used to terrorize me in my dreams. Fuck that noise. If I did have the balls to fight Colin “The Freakshow” Fletcher, however, I’d throw the, “Sweet dude. You might win this fight. But you’ll still end up going home as a mediocrely paid European Lightweight Champion looking like whack version of Baraka from Mortal Combat. You don’t look cool. You look like a psychopath who has an 85% chance of suffering from manic depression when you retire. Loser.”
Haaaaaa. Love it. The most ingenious blogging alias on the ‘Net gets a shout out by the Associated Press. “I’m trying to reach CHRIS KATTAN. Yes, Corky Romano, Doug Butabi, Mango, whatever. I need him and I need him now.” Classic. Give him some Wave Builder and month supply of Mike & Ikes and Chris Kattan will surely be of some assistance. Hopefully, this leads to an interview/conversation with the actual Chris Kattan. I’d have died and gone to heaven if that happened.
In the midst of such egregious events, the world has been searching far and wide for any type of information allowing us to accurately depict the psychological makeup of Tamerlan “Timmy” Tsarnaev and Dzhokhar Tsarnaev: How do two dudes who once upon a time navigated comfortably and unobtrusively through a city noted for unheralded acceptance of ethnic/cultural diversity go on to wreak such devastating havoc? From Kendall Square, to Central Square, to the Watertown Mall, reporters have been on a goose chase to answer that exact question. But in locating residents personally familiar with either of the suspects, particularly Tam, the regional press has documented interviews with individuals like this lacking any capacity to project a well-formulated picture of the perpetrators to the rest of the world.
Where does that lead me, a fledgling blogger just trying to help the city I love? Well. I just recently spoke on the phone with a dear friend of the deceased older brother, Tamerlan. My dude’s name is Sam, a 22 year old Cambridge native and a Rindge & Latin graduate who requested that I not reveal his last name. Both Timmy and Sam met around 2004 and have sustained a close relationship over the years. Sam, much like myself, has expressed his disdain for the way in which numerous reporters have gone about prying each and every bit of knowledge from those who knew Tam: “Dudes are stupid man. Aren’t talking to the right people. Black dude’s in bathrobes? He’s a Cambridge kid.” When I first asked about what the nature of their relationship was in high school, Sam was quick to relive memories of Tamerlan’s soft side and cheerfulness:
“This dude was such a clown, yo. How was this possible…He was a chatter mouth. We used to burn it down on a daily basis. If he wasn’t with us, he was working out. He worked and worked out…Nuts, man. This was my dude. One of the better dudes I’ve known. On the Suface level, at least”
In 2007, a member of Rindge’s Varsity Basketball Team, who also requested that I not reveal his name, used to sponsor 6 AM pick up on weekdays in the Fall to get ready for the season. Tamerlan had heard about the open run and asked if he could join. And although severely uncoordinated from a basketball standpoint, Timmy was noted for his raw strength and athleticism: “He was mad strong and athletic. Always remembered him warming up with boxing drills, throwing punches in the corner. Never spoke. Wasn’t a good ball player, but strong dude.” Outside of a physical altercation Downtown in which he ruffed up a Boston rapper and apparently broke his collar bone, Sam described Tam as a a man opposed to violence, ”(My boy) was getting jumped, he came to his side to protect him, and handled these two dudes. But that was the only fight I’d ever seen him get into. Overall, he was a gentle dude…Growing up, Tam had always hated guns and shit. Never had guns, always hated guns. His father always told him to be a man of fists…Tam got brain washed in Chechnya. Either that or he went there looking to get himself into it, dude.”
*Sam noted that Tamerlan was out of the country, in Chechnya, for around four to five months, but wasn’t sure of the exact dates because he been dealing with a number of personal issues himself. The exact timeline that has been revealed to be January 2012 to July 2012.*
Sam continued to elaborate on his experience of Tamerlan’s gentleness in a recount of a recent 2013 mid-March encounter in Cambridge. According to Sam—who had just returned home after long period spent out of Cambridge—Tamerlan showed up at his door step out of the blue with his two year old baby daughter to catch up as Sam was getting ready to head to an appointment. Sam recorded no unusual conversation, but noted that Tamerlan had said he’d “dipped off” from everyone as of late and that his life at this point was just working, making sure his daughter could enjoy the life he had imagined. In large part, Sam noted the experience to be full of laughter and playfulness, “He was playing with his little girl, running around and shit.” Tamerlan then drove Sam to his appointment and that was that.
When I asked Sam about Tamerlan’s religious beliefs, Sam went on to say that around four or five years ago is when Tam became extremely devout: “He stopped drinking, stopped smoking, worked out like a maniac. Preached religion a lot. Always peace and prosperity. He was always a little abnormal about the religion. But that was his own little personal quirk. Everyone’s obsessed with something though. I’m obsessed with Nike Air Max’s…Never thought he’d do anything like this.”
Clearly, this is a candid recounting of a long term experience of perhaps one facet of a very troubled, cryptic and manipulative individual. It seems somewhat unrealistic at this point to consider that this view of him as a gentle, peaceful, loving dude is the defining aspect of his character. Regardless of whether the diagnosis is Character change, sociopathy, deranged, militant Islamic fanaticism or all three, Tamerlan managed to conceal his evil side.