Crawford

His name was Crawford and he had the darkest skin of just about any dark-green Marine I met during my four years in the Marines. When we spent the month of July in Honduras he turned so dark one Marines in my platoon said Crawford turned purple.

Crawford was country as hell. He talked slow and with a purpose and for some reason, when he got to California he took an interest in NWA. My most distinct memory of him is laying on his bunk listening to his walkmen. He's playing it so loud that I can almost make out the swear words pouring out of Ice Cube's potty mouth. Crawford sees me, slips off his headphones and says to me as slowly as any farmer in northern Michigan or Mississippi, "Yo, McDonald, check this shit out. It's dope."

"No thanks, Crawford. All they do is swear."

"No, it's dope. Trust me."

"Maybe later."

"All right. You just let know when you want to hear it because it's dope."

Lock 'em up

I still can't believe this jerk off is the U.S. attorney general. Yup, that's right. The U.S. attorney general arguing that the president has the authority to hold human beings in limbo as long as he wants. I feel safer.