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Me 'n Mystikal...


First off, here's some writing I've done the last few weeks that you can still check out online:

I did a story about stand-up comedy, post Sept. 11. I was worried it wouldn't be up much longer, so it's been copied over here. I also interviewed George Lopez for that same story.


Nobody was more shocked than me when the news came down that Mystikal was actually some sort of thug, raping guy.

See, Mystikal and I go way back. We rapped together, and I even tried to set up a comeback for Fred Schneider from the B-52s with Myst's help. (Obviously, since you've been watching more American Idol than anything with Fred Schneider in it, the comeback didn't really work out.)

Why you gotta be so mean, Mystikal?

Mystikal and I were tight. And I thought he was a good guy. He never raped me, or anybody else when I was around, and he never stooped to extortion, even when he knew that I swiped some gum from the store when I was six years old. He never tried to blackmail me on that.

It makes you think; I mean, I guess we really never know some people, even the ones we think are kind of our heroes. It's made me examine my friendship with Mystikal and how even though every time I saw him, I just assumed he was having a succession of bad days that coincidentally fell on days I saw him, it turns out he's angry like that all the time.

It made me remember old conversations, like the last time I talked to him on the phone:

OMAR: Hi, Mystikal! What's up?

MYSTIKAL: Who dis?

OMAR: It's me! Omar! What's new, guy?

MYSTIKAL: Aw, fuck, bitch. What you callin' for? I'm over here rapin' and extortin' and shit.

OMAR: Ha ha. Very funny. No, seriously, what are you doing?

MYSTIKAL: Hold on. (Heard from far away) BITCH! I SAID GIMME MY MONEY!

OMAR: Hello?

MYSTIKAL: Hey, I'm back. It's busy as a fucknut in a cashew bowl, you know what I'm sayin'?

OMAR: Not really. So, hey, you wanna get together today, maybe go help me shop for some curtains?

MYSTIKAL: Bitch, the fuck I just say? I'm raping and extortin', motherfucker! Can't be buyin' no pussy curtains with your gay ass today.

OMAR: ...


OMAR: Mystikal. It really hurts me when you say things like that. I need you to understand that your words can hurt me. Do you understand that?


OMAR: Look, I'm gonna let you cool down and go back to watching TV or whatever you're doing, okay? I'll call you back later when your blood sugar's a little more stable. Go eat a banana or a candy bar, all right?

MYSTIKAL: Man, I'm gonna come look for you and rape YOUR ass, prison bitch!

OMAR: See? That's what I'm talking about. I'll talk to you later. Seriously. Go eat something.

Yeah, I know. there's no way I could have been able to tell anything was amiss from a simple phone conversation like that and I shouldn't beat myself up over it.

I talked to Mystikal's Mom on the phone and she was understandably upset. She asked me to come over and help her go through Mystikal's stuff and get some clothes for him for when he goes to his arraignment.

It was pretty emotional. She yelled a lot (man, I see where he gets it now!), but was nice to me because she knew I was trying to be a good influence on Myst. (Except for the thing about the gum when I was six years old, but she doesn't know about that, thank goodness!)

We were going through some of Mystikal's papers and contracts and I found something unexpected. It was his application for becoming a rapper. It's kind of like the LSAT or GREs for hip hop. All rappers have to take them, even guys like Eminem. (He totally aced them.)

So, here's Mystikal's entrance exams. I know he'd want folks to remember him for the promising young rapper he once was, and not the jailbird he is today.


The RSAT, Page 1

RSAT, Page 2

RSAT Page 3


Mystikal, please get help. We need you back. And not in a raping, extorting way.


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