Bruce Wagner - Dead Stars

(Samek) Snoop

(Ayin) Naas, Andre 3K, Eazy E, OFWGKTA

(Pe) 50 çent, Puff

(Sadhe) Scarface, Soulja boy, Salt N Pepa

(Qof) [The Martyrs 2pac/Biggie & Warrior Archangel Suge Knight]

(Resh) Raekwon, Rakim, (Rihanna), Royce da 5′9″, Rick Ross

(Shin) Slick Rick

And then Blue I.V. was born, a black blueblood whom the Puppetmaster could not transfuse, resistant to his plantation platelets, & that was when he was certain his Zadie Blue had transmogrified, had come to him, & it would not matter if he would no longer be living when Blue I.V. came of age in the Days of Majestic Rage & overthrew those who bore and betrayed her, the Bé & the Hov — the chosen cloven — the b é hooven .

. .

He toggled between CNN faggot panicwhores & Shade 45 , reawakened to la causa as he listened sorrowfully to converted slaves singing on Marshall Mathers’ plantation.

Royce da 5 9’s voice rang out from the fields:

“Tell Shady I love him the same way that he did Dr Dre on the chronic, tell him how real he is or how high I am or how I would kill for him to know it.”

Proud Black warriors who once stood tall now grew spreadcunts for the Puppetmathers, speaking in tongues and Code.

Suge Knight’s head hung in sadness & steely resolve.

. .

If he could help them triumph, his place in history was secure.

(That’s where his head would go.)

(The cheatsheet laminate)

(A year ago, while hospitalized for his small, secret attack, Jerzy spoke with Suge & Suge Knight honored & thanked him, and told him he would contact him in Time.)

The dark funnel frightened him.

Jerzy had some little tricks to lighten up.

For example, he’d dig out a DVD, Biggie Smalls guest-starring on an old Martin Lawrence . No shit, Sherlock. It was whack. Biggie played his 24-year-old self. He drops by Martin’s to tell him confidentially that he’s looking for a back-up singer & the next thing he knows (loose mouths in the hood), there’s 1,000 people outside the apt looking to audition. Gina & Pam diva their way in, & effin hilarity ensues. Jerzy loved it because it was so unabashed a tribute to I Love Lucy, one of his faves. Cunt MoMA used to plunk him down in front of the tube w/cold Banquet TV dinners & forget about him for the day yeah, life’s a Banquet, a beggar’s banquet huh . That show saved his life. To this day he fantasized it was him born to Lucy & Desi, primetime.

. .

Home now.

Bootie bumpin — meth & warm water shpritzed up the ass.

3 pages torn from magazines, sitting on the low table between him and the flatscreen, for his perusal.

A tivo’d NatGeo doc was on, but he couldn’t focus.

He was focused on the torn magazine pages.

“Second Look” was from People :

Two pix of Emma Watson placed side by side. The pix look identical, she’s walking out the door of Whole Foods. The caption says, Find the Differences in these two pics of Emma Watson, the latest face of Lancôme in Paris. Hmmmm… try as he may, he couldn’t. I bet Harry around the Middleton could find the difference hahahaha. He’d say Oh shit yeah, she’s got 653 hairs on the arm on the right, & 547 on the arm on the left…

O. Yeah. Now Jerzy sees that in the 1st pic, her Hermès watch has a single strap; in the other, it’s got two. Effin fascinatin, huh. Jerzy moved on to the side-by-side shtick Rob Lowe beach pics in the Enquirer ’s “Two for the Road” knock-off. Good ol Rob. Now there’s a guy who always lands on his feet. Jerzy took a closer look… is that a beauty mark on Rob’s abs or is that a mark on the magazine paper? He spent a few minutes on it but couldn’t find the diff, the 2 pix looked exactly alike. Shit. Hate it when that happens. Well if at first you don’t succeed, fail, fail again. Hahaha. And for our next braincruncher, ladies & gentlemen, it’s… Lea Michele! (featured in this week’s In Touch Double Takes .) First thing Jerzy looked for was the photoshop nosejob. Nope, no photoshnozz. Hahahahaha. They left it intact. Took up a lotta space in the mag, tho. All the nose that fits to print, haha, the bitch got plenty o’ proboscis. But WTF, he couldn’t find any differences there either. . ….

He crushed/smoked an Addie then watched some of the Martin Lawrence ing Notorious. Biggie looked fatcheeked & shiny-new as a baby, he wore a smart, XXXXXL well-pressed jumpsuit, his bigass feet stuck in a pair of pristine orange construction boots. Swank. Back & forth Jerzy went, twixt the Martin & the NatGeo doc… but it was sticky going. Man, this tivo’s a fuckin antique, what’s the matter with her. Fuckin Tom-Tom. Must be the 1st one ever made.

The NatGeo doc: a hummingbird was on screen.

He used to love reading NatGeo the Magazine but it started getting too sado-porn for his tastes. Fucking Rupert Murdoch bought it, fucking Murdoch ruins everything. Destroys. The last time he flipped through one was a few months ago in the waiting room of a pain doc. Foto of a farmer in the snow perched over the carcasses of two reindeer whose antlers became entangled. The old Swede said he figured it took them three days to die. Fuckin Murdoch .

Hummingbirds scared him — too much like fibrillating s. They reminded him of what he thought his own must have looked like before the small, secret coronary. (Nobody even knew he’d had one except an RN he kept semi in touch with, she was a dope fiend, sometimes they FaceTime geni-cammed, she stuck a hairbrush up.) This deepvoiced narrator guy was talking about how a praying mantis could kill a hummingbird. Say what? Jerzy PAUSED the docu to google praying mantis because he got temporarily fakakta & thought maybe a _/|\_ mantis really wasn’t an insect like he fucking thought —but no! shit! It was— unpausing the Tivo so the narrator could say that mantises waited in ambush , fucking waited! at the feeders! for the hummingbirds to come! How the fuck could that be? How could it? because that demonstrates intelligence , how do you even recognize a hummingbird feeder if you’re a fucking insect, how do you lay in wait, you’re a mutherfucking insect , & if an insect can kill a bird then maybe it could learn to recognize the door to my fucking room . . . . …

With stupendous effort, he kept reality checking to make sure he wasn’t having a freak-hallucination. When it became too much, he MUTED (letting it continue to PLAY, hoping the mutherfucking docu would do him the favor of ending by the time he came back), & hit the kitchen for something to eat but of course he wasn’t hungry. Decided to look for gum, looked in the drawer where Tom-Tom kept lightbulbs & screwdrivers & tacks, couldn’t find any, actually didn’t feel like gum anyway. Then he wanted a cookie, there happened to be an actual cookie jar on the counter (but no cookies, he’d need to remedy that, he’d pick up his latest fave, Tim Tams, Tim Tams for Tom-Tom, she’d get a kick out of that, chewy caramel chewy fudge chewy baca Tim Tams — shit. Maybe I should just run out right now to the 24-hour Ralphs ) so he went back to his room to smoke, his attention back on the 3 torn Can You Spot the Differences? pages, couldn’t remember if he’d torn them out or if Tom-Tom left em for him, Tom-Tom was always tearing mindless shit out of mags & leaving it for him to peruse. . . . he sat back down, eyes averted from the screen.