I did a Gizoogle search on my blog and I’ve never laughed as hard as I did when I saw the results. Gizoogle simulates Google, but it’s a parody on the search engine. It’s totally free to use. When you finish reading this post, give it a try. You can post your favorite link in the search box and hit <enter>.
WARNING: Gizoogle likes to add a lot of ‘F’ bombs, but I have removed them from this post.
I took one of my older (and most read) posts, Salem, Massachusetts and input it into Gizoogle. You can read the original post by clicking on that link and when you’re done, compare it to the one below.
… is possibly da most thugged-out eerie hood up in New England n’ like possibly up in all of tha United Hoods. I suppose it dependz on whom you ask. Upon steppin’ foot within tha hood limits, you git sense of bein’ watched n’ you begin ta feel unsettled. That feelin’ don’t leave until you do.
Of course, most of our asses have heard of tha Salem Witch Trials up in 1692 n’ tha consequencez of dem accused. But just ta recap, eighteen pimps n’ dem hoes was convicted of witchcraft n’ sentenced ta hang at Gallows Hill (aka “Witch Hill,” or “Witchcraft Hill”). One playa (#19) was crushed under stones when he refused ta git all up in tha trial. It ain’t nuthin but tha nick nack patty wack. Hundredz of others was accused of witchcraft n’ dozens was kept up in jail without a trial. To dis day, Gallows Hill is hard as hell ta find n’ like desolate, often makin dem whoz ass is seekin its’ location wonder if they is truly up in tha right spot. Most of tha activity, however, is near Salem Commons, a park dat acts as a hub of, “all thangs witchy.” Just bein there gives you tha creeps.
A playa of mine was visitin n’ our asses decided ta go on a Pimp Tour of Salem afta we gots soakin wet on tha roughest n’ worst Whale Watchin boat excursion. I aint talkin’ bout chicken n’ gravy biatch. That’s what we git fo’ gettin on a funky-ass boat when a shitload of tha worst weather hits tha New England waters, probably up in October. Shiiit, dis ain’t no joke. Have you seen, A Perfect Storm? It was close ta dat shit. Okay, it wasn’t dat bad yo, but still. Yeah, we saw whalez, but I was drenched, freezin mah ass off n’ not too keen ta continue tha evenin’ afta watchin’ playas gettin’ sea sick n’ pukin’ up in tha nearest trashcan. I tried ta be sympathetic yo, but I just couldn’t do dat shit. It’s hard ta express sympathy when yo’ teeth is chattering. I’m selfish like dat n’ like dis n’ like dat y’all.
Anyway, back ta tha Salem Pimp Tour. I had mah camera wit me, just up in case of, you know…orbs n’ shit. With mah camera up in one hand n’ a Dunkin’ Donuts coffee up in tha other, we started our tour at a lil’ small-ass cemetery. I was still freezin n’ mah inner fat-ass thighs was chafed, props ta soakin britches. Needless ta say, I was cranky n’ I wasn’t straight-up payin attention ta tha tour guide until he mentioned dat there was a abandoned prison behind us. Supposedly, dis was tha same stupid-ass prison where tha Boston Strangla was servin his sentence. I turned around yo, but didn’t peep anythang except fo’ a ratty, run down building.
I be a gangsta yo, but y’all knew dat n’ mah playa suggested dat I take a picture n’ later on, we could peep if any orbs rocked up. I steadied tha camera, careful ta git it tha f**k into focus yo, but tha camera wouldn’t work. At all.
Hommie: Did yo dirty ass git a picture?
Me: Not exactly.
Hommie: What do you mean, ‘not exactly?’
Me: Da camera isn’t working.
Hommie: Is it turned on?
Me: Yeah. I be thinkin tha chronic light on tha top of tha camera sort of gives it away.
Hommie: You’re such a smart-ass ass. Here, let me peep dat shit.
I handed her tha camera yo, but her dumb ass couldn’t git it ta work either.
Me: Well, Einstein?
Hommie (handz me tha camera): Shut up.
Our thugged-out asses continue our struttin tour yo, but I’m too involved wit tha damn camera. I mean, what be a pimp tour if you can’t take picturez of absolute darknizz up in hopes dat tha flash will pick up a orb, biatch? Suddenly, I turn tha camera towardz me ta make shizzle tha lights is hittin dat shizzle n’ yes, they are. While still lookin into tha camera, I pressed tha button n’ took a picture of mah nasal passage. Not on purpose.
Me: It works now, nahmeean?
Me: Yes, I just took a picture of mah nasal passage. Flash works too cuz I can’t peep shizzle now, nahmeean, biatch?
Hommie: Why would you take a picture of yo’ nasal passage?
Me: I wanted ta make shizzle you had suttin’ ta remember me by, should anythang happen ta mah dirty ass. I figured mah boogers would be a phat place ta start, smart-ass ass.
Hommie (ignorin mah wit): Let’s ditch tha tour n’ go back ta tha prison.
Our thugged-out asses head back over ta tha prison locale. I aim tha camera n’ wouldn’t you know it, biatch? Da damn thang would not work.
Me (mutterin tha non-abbreviated version): WTF?
Hommie: I thought you holla’d it was working?
Me: Don’t start wit mah dirty ass. Here, I’ll prove ta you dat it was working.
I chizzled tha settin on tha digital camera ta tha slidesheezy and, yep, there’s tha internal passage ta mah nozzle hairs.
Me: See, I holla’d at you it was working.
Hommie: Try again.
I point tha camera and…nope. Nothing. Zip. Zilch. Nada. I then remove tha batteries n’ reinsert em. I turn tha camera back on n’ press tha button. I aint talkin’ bout chicken n’ gravy biatch. I take a snap blasted of mah feet. Not on purpose.
Me (showin off tha pic of tha tipz of mah shoes): See, it works now, nahmeean?
Hommie: Well, takin picturez of yo’ body parts won’t help.
I ignored her n’ pointed tha camera toward tha prison, tryin ta snap a picture. It hit dat shizzle dat time yo, but when our slick asses looked back all up in tha picture , there was not a damn thang there, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin’ thru fo’sho. Complete blackness.
At dat point, I gave up n’ we went back ta tha hoopty ta bounce.
Hommie: Maybe it was a pimp messin wit tha camera. Maybe tha Boston Strangla didn’t want his thugged-out lil’ picture taken.
Me (turnin tha heat on full blast up in tha car): Yeah, maybe yo, but at least I have some pictures dat will help identify mah body should anythang happen ta mah dirty ass.
Hommie: True. Maybe you should bust me copies so I can hand dem over ta tha five-o should you eva go missing. Should we swab fo’ DNA too?
Yo, So, what do you think, biatch? Do you be thinkin it was tha Boston Strangla or some other buggin pimp?
Better yet, it could be just two idiots whoz ass couldn’t figure up how ta work tha damn camera.