iBomb, theyART

"BOMBERS, BOMBERS, BOMBERS, CHAMPIONSHIP!"
-Above The Rim (1994)

BOMBER (bohm-er)

a bomber is a specific graffiti "artist" that just tags up their name on the most places possible in the shortest amount of time in the most simplest form just to get their name known, whereas other graffiti artists also do it for the style and artistic skill put into it, bombers are usually looked down upon because they have no real paint skills.

A part of me wants to tell myself that I was an individual as a pre-high school adolescent. That I made my own rules, and set my own bars and standards. That I walked my own line. But that part of me wants to lie.

Growing up here, if you didn't have a crew, with a crew name, and a tag name with a sharpie marker to sharpie mark your territory all across the Upper West Side of Manhattan and Harlem, you just were so NOT cool (this is not to say that you were definitely cool if you had these things, evidently in the case of ME, but you definitely were not cool if you didn't).

My crew was the 440 crew (to my knowledge that name has no significant meaning what-so-ever), more commonly known at IS 44's Computer School as The Destruction Crew, or the Destructs (...we should have had hard hats, I know...the worst) and my tag was SCOPE 113. Later, it became T-Swift, but that had to do with a brief but memorable love affair with turntables and a desire to put the letters DJ in front of a stupid name that I'd created for myself. Tagging was fun, though. Super-fun. I was breaking the rules in public school bathrooms, NYC public trains, public buildings and bus stops, and private businesses. Super-duper fun, right? On the talent and art meter, though, I probably ranked about a 0.5 out of a billion, but that's exactly what brings me back to the point of my rise from the Blog dead.

My department at work was recently relocated to a new building that our company built in a really dope and up-and-coming neighborhood one stop out of Manhattan called Long Island City in Queens. There's a bunch of nice cafes and lounges, similar to a young Williamsburg, BK, here, and a truly awesome promenade and pier with a park that screams BYOBBB (Beer, B*tches, and Booch lol), but that's for another post. Anyway, I decided to walk and explore the hood in which I earn a living and I was dumbfounded and amazingly surprised when I found the following. Apparently, and this is probably very popular to those other than people named Fitzgerald Waweru, the city designated this group of abandoned warehouse space to be free reign to those who love and practice the art of graffiti. I had to bust out the Blackberry cam and get my tourist on to document the discovery. A lot of people, including myself, have caught a glimpse of this right before or after surfacing on the 7 train from or going to Manhattan (well, if you do that sort of thing...the train...and QUEENS, lol).

So, below are a few reasons, once again (this is becoming the theme of this page), why I love New York and that I grew up here. Enjoy! These aren't by bombers like me...these are by real (graffiti) artists like them...

.....PS....I Love You

I saw the end of Superbad, and they played this...and I caught a moment. I felt the love, and made it into a beat. DEDICATION TO YOU...MY PEOPLE. aawwwwwwww ;0P

Broadway - PS...I Love You

Curtis Mayfield - PS...I Love You

YOOOO, HABIBI'S GONNA ROCK N*GGAS THIS SPRING, SON!!!

Regardless of popular belief (mainly amongst wack-individuals), "the '90's" was a monumentally great decade for numerous reasons, one of those being style. Okay, perhaps the first few years of the decade were a bit rough (ie. that whole Cross Colours thing and the grunge phase), but things did improve. We had the whole Tommy, Polo, Nautica phenomenon. Guess farmers. All white canvas-Air Force 1's. Timberlands were extra thug, but then again, extra thug was in. Army fatigues. Columbia jackets, with the phrase behind the neck...I had "Powder Keg". Eastland boots. Girbauds. Strap-back Ralph Lauren hats. Wally Clarks ("blue n cream"). The latter couple years Avirex's popped. Rugbys. Fisherman hats...one side tilted up. Skully's with the brim. I could go on, and on, and on, and on....and if I did, I'd have to mention the Helly Hansen jacket craze. A lot of my friends and other NY'ers absolutely jumped-on the Helly Hansen jacket fad after seeing a half-braided Method Man rocking one while running from the police in 1995's "I'll Be There For You/You're All I Need To Get By", a song featuring Mary J. Blige.

I owned a fly version. In fact, I've only seen the one I owned once. Couple of my dudes had em. But TO THIS DAY, we've been hard-pressed to find a vintage joint, internet or otherwise....until now.

I was on lunch, and the handy phone-cam had to be utilized. I don't know who you are, old gray-haired mister from the eastern continents...but, sir, you are the fuckin' man today!

HELLY HANSEN'S FTW!!!

R.I.P. B.I.G.

No words needed.



Christopher "The Notorious B.I.G." Wallace

May 21, 1972 – March 9, 1997

A Brief Anatomy of a Broadway Beat

"It usually starts with a catalyst (usually being an annoyance of some sort)..."

So, I happen to be lucky enough that sometimes some really weird and disturbed people actually like me enough to the point where they request permission to physically come by and see me do something regarding music, or show them what I do, or how to do it, or to do something with me. Of this, trust me, I am more than grateful and abundantly happy that there are these disillusioned individuals in the world that are interested in me and my musical hoop-dreams, and I would totally love to be able to accommodate them, but unfortunately 1) the above photograph is a multi-million dollar recording studio NOT my home, and I don't wanna have to clean my apartment to impress you, and 2) I just don't have the time...there's definitely a 3) and that's that I'm a somewhat working-introvert and would simply prefer being left completely alone, in the dark, with candles, and a Ouija board, but we'll just keep it simple today. Today, I just figured I'd give a quick cross-section of some of what I like to do with music. I didn't wanna make it too technical. And I didn't wanna make it too in-depth. I just wanted it to be a quick layout of some of the things that go on when the magic is made...not in my pants, but rather....well, sometimes in my pants, depending on how good the beat is.

So, here goes...

Yeah, usually it starts with some sort of inspiration. A catalyst, I guess. That can really be anything from a great scene in a movie, something that happened in my life, a loud person on the train annoying me, or whatever-have-you. Usually it's something paralleled to the effect of the loud person on the train. In most of these situations, I turn to the good old trusty iPod headphones.

"(Soul) music makes the world go round..."

Like most people like to say, but what I really DO, is that I listen to a WIDE range of shit, and I find that EVERY DAY I'm in the mood for something different. Sometimes its Michael, sometimes its Wu, sometimes its Elton....yo fuck it - sometimes its even the Dixie Chicks...shut the fuck up, yes, I'm keeping it a HUNDRED! Sometimes its all of the above and more, but a lot of the time - and a really good portion of the time - its soul. It's soul music, and when I'm lucky...when I'm REALLY lucky...I will find something, usually in that genre, that makes me want to leave work mid-day (if Mike Zdanowski is reading this, I've never ever done that Mike...I swear to God that I was really sick that day) to go home and have finger-sex with my MPC (a piece of equipment - drum machine) and together create Broadway's latest mind-child.

So today, right, I have this Gloria Williams record, "A Woman Only Human".

Gloria Williams - A Woman Only Human

When I first heard this song it was what I like to call a B-level sample, meaning its good enough to work on, but I'll probably just stash it for later (later meaning, yeah, probably never because I suck). The melody in the opening did grab me, and the vocals throughout were nice, but I still did sit on it. This happens often. Very often.

I'm not completely sure what it was, but one afternoon I just decided to play the piano (couple notes at a time, as my piano ability is limited) along to the record, and it wasn't until I figured out what I wanted to do over it that I decided: "OK, I'm fucking with this tonight".

When I first started making beats, most likely like every other producer origin story, it was really rudimentary. I took a sample, chopped it up, and put drums on it. No bass, no keys...no nothing. I used this software program called Fruity Loops (shout to Jim Bond) and I didn't really have the know-how to really expand on what was in front of me. When I decided that I could actually be good at this whole thing, I talked myself into buying equipment that would allow me to make my own music on top of all of these soul samples that I was collecting (oh shit, btw a "sample" is a piece of already-established music that you take to incorporate into a new piece of music). So now that I've spent the hard-earned dollars and feel somewhat obligated to justify doing so, I have the resources to play MUSIC. It's all so totally bugged out because I can now manifest the genius that's like been locked in my thought-organ into comprehensive sonic transmissions, in Layman's terms what your people would call "sounds" (you'd probably be happy to know that I spelled "genius" wrong before the spell-check...and Layman's...I also spelled Layman's wrong as well.). So, yes, to stay on topic, I heard the Gloria Williams record, and I chose the part I wanted to use, and I played the following over it. The audio clip you're about to hear is without a sample, so you can hear what I played to match the record.

Tone Playing Instrumentation

"The key is to blur the lines..."

A wise rapper and friend once gave me one of the most useful pieces of advice that a new sampling producer could ever receive. I sent him a track for a project he was working on, and this was really early on in my whole musical endeavour when I wasn't really playing any instruments over anything, and he heard it and hit me back and said "yeah, Tone, its cool, but, dude, its just like you took that old soul record and put your own drums over the whole joint...its like a remix of the old song. You should learn to play music over the sample, and make it yours. The best producers, Premo, Pete Rock, all of those guys - they blur the lines between a sample and a keyboard. They make it so that you can't tell whats the sample and whats being played."

That convo really changed my mindset in a way as to now when I look at making a sample-beat I see it as ultimately being the result of a union between what I wanna do with a record and what someone already did, and in the end its hopefully new and original, but at the same time familiar, all the while being me...makes no sense? Good.

Here's the beat with the sample, and with me:


Broadway - From The Bottom of My Heart

Truthfully, every beat is different, and it comes along and about in a different way, but there are a few fundamental steps and concepts that remain constant with me and I really just wanted to illustrate some of those so that you bastards can stop trying to come to my house and break my expensive shit.

=D

In all seriousness, I hope that you enjoyed it. I really love that a lot of you dig what I do. Its rewarding, and humbling. Thank you..."From the bottom of my heart."

Here's a Jay-Z record over the beat. Sometimes some people need to hear a full song to "get it". Enjoy.

Jay-Z - Song Cry (Revisited) [b/w From The Bottom Of My Heart by Broadway]

Introducing "The Friendly Friday GUEST BLAH'G"...Volume 1 (featuring Fernando "Freddy Flaco" Luciano)

Good day, T.G.I.F.'ers!

Tone here...

Well, GUESS WHAT! As if you needed another reason to wake-up and jerk-off because you've realized that it's another Friday, and, HEY, you're just a mere 8 to 10 hours away from drinking (and drugging, depending upon your rank amongst the New York social-elite) the past weeks fuckery away, we at TTWTI bring you "The Friendly Friday GUEST BLAH'Gger".

You would think that the intention of this innovating new addition to the site would be to diversify the content of "The Trouble With That Is...", adding a new flavor to the blog by gaining different perspectives via my assorted grab-bag of colorful friends...well, it's not.

Bottom line is, I'm half-black, and a half a lazy fuck...not that those two are connected in any way. Just being random. I'm also HALF native-american so I LISTEN to animals, but I can't HEAR them. Anyway, this is just one of my ingenious and ingenuine ways of keeping my blog active during the times when I'm trying to regain some sort of semblance of the life that I once used to imagine while on the toilet, or having sex...with you, maybe.

To make things fair though, I will give myself a homework assignment (arghhh): I'll be doing a short synopsis on how I know the guest blogger, and a "to my knowledge, at least" bio about them by the following Friday of their blog post.

If you would like to participate let me know. I'd love you to!!! Shoot me an email at tonewaweru@gmail.com and I, along with a panel of 13 pretentious judges, will determine whether or not you meet the criteria to participate in such a ground-breaking and progressive initiative. Should you be so privileged, you will have two options of topic:

1) Your choice to BLAH about anything and everything you want

or

2) I can give you a topic, and you just let your fingers run with it

Then we'd just (together) choose a Friday that you're uncensored blog would go up, and voila...you are now narcissistic. Simple as that.

Anyway, without further delay, I'd like to introduce to you our very first Friendly Friday Guest Blah'gger - this is Fernando Luciano's take on....well, just read.

- Fitzgerald Anthony Tony Tone Christopher(apperently) Broadway Waweru, Jr.

"Between a FLAC and a Hard Place"

by Freddy Flaco

Ok ok ok...so here I am, finding myself on the web chiming in about life, liberty, and the pursuit of some fire purple at half price. In the midst of cold weather turning warm, trekking through unshoveled snow by inconsiderate fucks who say" it'll melt anyway", I find myself debating more than a few things, but to keep your attention span I'll spare you but a few.

NOW...everyone is impressed that we have a half black President, Barack Obama. Now while I commend him on a genius campaign and the support he rallied, we are far from getting halfway to where we need to go. What will impress me one day is a native American President. Think about it... Don't you think the muthafucka who had the country first would know what to do with it? These dudes beta tested the US, and all they get is tax avoidance and extra financial aid to attend colleges. They invited C-dub(Christopher Columbus) over for some hashish and pumpkin, and he thanked them by running through they hoes(without paying, I might add), fucking up their shape-ups, and claiming their crib as theirs. I'm sorry, but if anyone ever came over and even left my fridge open, they'll wish they were in the Philippines getting in the ring with Ali...one can only wish...

Another issue picking my half-functioning brain is OJ- not the drink, the person. Follow me- here we have a former college Heisman trophy winner, standout NFL star, super actor and token extraordinaire. He killed his ex wife, her jump-off, escapes in a truck, goes to trial, WINS, goes plays golf and gets mad buns, GETS LOCKED FOR SOME OTHER SHIT, and thinks the world is out to get him...hi, Mr. OJ, I got news for you. If I were to merk 2 people for no reason other than they were getting a good scrape on(should be a God given right, don'tcha think), and not do a bid for it, guess where I will be??? Answer: FAR AWAY, way farther than Las Vegas. I don't care whatever happens to him, just as long as the remaining single married white women who dated him give me a shot when our worlds meet.

Lastly, before I dig in to this bowl of Cocoa Puffs, my feet tap when I hear that there is someone for everyone...ummm, no. If you sit home looking like a brick hit you in the face, smelling like hamhocks and similak, teeth more damaged than Danity Kane without a first-aid-kit-handy, eating a pizza with pork grind as a topping, don't tell me "someones gonna love me for who I am"... Like expired milk, I'm just not buying it..

BRING THE BOOCH PRICE DOWN!

P.S. Be careful of your birth control ladies, you may not get pregnant, but you'll look and act like you were.

Oh WOW...

I cannot believe this was still at my dads house. His place is like a treasure trove, where you can only become proverbially rich by finding sh*t thats hidden there if and only if you lived my exact life...to a tee. I heart 113th bet. Broadway and Riverside.

If you don't understand the gravity of this situation see HERE.

Oh...maybe if you lived Louis' life...maybe you could become proverbially rich then, too.

PS - there is also, at the end of this tape following "It Ain't Hard To Tell", a freestyle session of myself and Nick Puddington at 13 years old rhyming over Wu-Tang beats. Our regular pre-pubescent voices sound as if we sucked 47 helium balloons and we did it at our boy Jermaine's house - we all took turns recording while the other two waited out of the room because we were way too embarrassed to rhyme in front of each other. Golden. I will upload the audio if Nick signs a permission to release.

For underground 90's hip-hop heads, there are also 3 unreleased J-Live tracks that you will never hear following our freestyle session. I have to talk to J about those, because I don't even know that HE has them anymore. Yo J, remember that?..."End of Story"...original version of "Timeless"..."School's In" I think...you guys dubbed it right out of the mixing board for me at Rawshack during a session in 95 because I was in NO mood to go home on the train from BK without it. Lemme know!

I'm From Manhattan...I Can Do That...

I've been promising myself that I'd step away from the Nike brand of sneakers for the summer of '09, I really have, but every time I try to get out, they keeping pulling me back in. Usually they do it by re-releasing the late 80's to early 90's style of runners, in this case, the assailant being the Pegasus. I recall a fly pair of Pegs I had that mysteriously disappeared around the same time my ex's brother disappeared for a few months. Well they say "you win some, and you lose some...and some get stolen by ex's brothers". Anyway, I like this kick...Ah-lockit-allot. April 1st at the Nike Flagship in SoHo. Don't bother if you hang with me. I'm all over them.

I Can't Sleep Because It's Always Sunny

I guess blogs, if anything at all, are for sharing, correct? As in sharing one's thoughts, ideas, viewpoints, media bits, yadda-yadda, etc. OK. Well in my case, the term sharing is an abbreviated form of saying "force-feeding you motherfuckers shit that I'm into".

Well, so I haven't been able to get to sleep as early as I'd like to lately for the past 16 years and during this outrageous battle against time, nightfall, and the temptation to download unnatural amounts of porn, I have had the enormous fortune of being graced with the fine company of some of my dearest friends and cohorts. These friends have included the likes of such esteemed characters as Commander Adama of Galactica, Larry David of Brooklyn, Jack Bauer of Lost Boys, Michael Scott and the Scranton branch, The Bluth Family, Jack and Kate and Locke and all of those other miserable fucks that can't figure out how to light a signal-fire, Hank Moody 'cationing in California, and last but not least:

The Gang (Mack, Dennis, Dee, Frank, and of course Charlie....ahhhh Charlie).

The good-old Gang has been a particularly strong and constant source of enabling when the topic of being late to work, or being unable to hear the alarm (or hear that lady next door scream for fire-help in the morning) is brought up. It's simply because the Gang is and has always been a sunny delight by consistently serving as a direct contrast of what you'd ever want your life to resemble at any given point during your adult experience. Whether it be "The Gang Solves The Gas Crisis" or "The Gang Cracks The Liberty Bell", or my personal favorite, "The Gang Smokes Crack To Get On Welfare", I find myself at both blissful and nauseous peace with the fact that I am completely wide awake during the hour of the street-walker while being blatantly non-productive and simultaneously learning absolutely nothing beneficial to anyone, anywhere what-so-ever.

But even so...laughing-MAO while doing it.

Fuck it, its nothing cocaine-strength coffee and a nap in the supply closet can't fix in the morning. So here you have it: It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia.

Consider yourself force-fed, motherfucker. =D

This short 2-minute scene appropriately fit the post...Charlie is always giving me interesting solutions to my everyday problems. Don't sleep....or do...on huffed-glue and cat food.

"Dee Attempts To Walk A Mile In Charlies Shoes...For One Night"

The Making of ILLMATIC

"I lay puzzled as I backtrack to earlier times
Nothings equivalent, to the New York state of mind."
-Nas

It's 1994, and I'm a 100 pound (if that) 9th grader, in a new high school, meeting new people who are just as awkward and anxious as I am, and we’re all trying to find a place to fit in. One of the better things about the high school that I went to, or rather one of the things that I appreciate it most for, is that it was a virtual cross-section of what New York was (and is) demographically, and, coincidentally, of what hip-hop as a whole used to be: one big melting-pot.

I went to one of the biggest and most famous magnet schools not only in NYC but in the US, so it wasn't just comprised of local neighborhood kids in the area going to their zone school, but rather it was made up of 3,000+ teenagers from all 5 boroughs and just about every single neighborhood within these boroughs, all under one roof, trying to find their place. Much the same, hip-hop was very similar. You could have street-poets or street-pharmacists. Didn’t matter, as long as the lyrics were gully, and the story was legit. You could have a De La or a Tribe, and then have an M.O.P or a Boot Camp. Didn’t matter, everyone was winning. And everyone was listening. To everything. As I said, we were all a bunch of teens trying to find our place in a new world, and I ended up finding mine around the same time that the game found Nas.

If you went to Bronx Science from 1993 to 1997, and you were into hip-hop...and you were broke...you probably knew Roger Galindo. Roger was a step ahead of the curve, and all of us, when it came to making a quick buck. This was all before the days of zShare, blogs, LimeWire...shit, even CDs. Roger had this 11"x6" plastic case he'd bring to school, and in it were an organized collection of assorted recordable audio cassette tapes. All clear, and all with a white label with a signature Sharpie’d title stating its contents, along with an upside down (or sideways, I can’t remember) smiley face to solidify its “Raj” bootleg authenticity. These cassette tapes would be how myself and a ton of other Bronx Science hip-hop heads got to know some of today’s modern day rap legends.

I got my first "Ready to Die" copy there. My first "Reasonable Doubt", too. My 2nd favorite purchase, and I will never forget this, was the "36 Chambers of Death" for $3. A "Raj" tape which I rewound at least 30 times on my Sony walkman until I memorized the entire "M-E-T-H-O-D Man". Before you jump to conclusions, calm down. Every - single - person that I know that bought these tapes from "Raj" would later cop all of these classics in stores. Either on tape (Purple if ya dig me), CD later on...or vinyl (I later started DJ'ing). That’s just out of respect, and because cover art used to be golden back then.

Well, this brings me to the point of all of this. In 1994, I was in 9th grade. And in 1994, Nas literally changed my life and how I looked at expression as an art-form. When I heard "Illmatic" for the first time, I didn’t even get most of it….but I got it. Granted, it may have taken some odd years to understand the impact that this album had on me, but over time it has become one of those things that happened during my generation that I can look back upon and really stamp it as being truly "timeless". When I die, wherever I go I just hope that they have "Memory Lane" on repeat...and a hundred bad shorties in nothing but aprons cooking.

For this post, I just had to go back, and reminisce about 9th grade, about Bronx Science, about Raj, and about a time when you could get something genuinely "good" for a very reasonably low-price…thanks to Roger Galindo.

Thank you Raj. And thank you to everyone who was there to share the Golden Era of rap with me.

The following is a XXL article that details the events during the making of Nas' first album "Illmatic". Read it when you have the time. It is worth it.

Click each picture and you can either download each jpg to zoom or "view full size"

Props to Thomas V. for the Blog Post that I took from his site, "The T.R.O.Y. Blog". Check it out. These are his words and links. Download the XXL article. Props to Steve Jerrick for putting me on.

When was the last time you bought a hip-hop magazine? Basically, I never buy new hip-hop magazines but I had to make an exception for the new XXL April 2009 Issue. In the beginning of this month when the magazine cover was revealed, I noticed that there was going to be an article commemorating the 15th Anniversary of Nas's Classic 1994 LP "Illmatic". With subtitles of DJ Premier, Large Pro, Pete Rock, & Q-Tip, I knew that it was going to be worth the reading.

Yesterday, after copping the issue, I immediately skipped to the "Illmatic" article. I was stunned by seeing these old hi-res '94 pictures of Nas; there's a picture of Premier, Large Pro, Faith, Nas, Q-Tip, & L.E.S in the studio. I would like to thanks Timmotep Aku, Carl Chery, Clover Hope, Rob Markman, Starrene Rhett, Anslem Samuel for taking a trip down to memory lane and compiling a classic article on a perfect album. Below are all the representers who each took their time to talk on the making-of of their incredible work on the track which they appeared on. This isn't something that you've seen before, you will learn a lot of new trivia...

Below that is the scan of the article.

Representers
Nas
Jungle
Faith Newman-Orbach(Executive Producer)
MC Serch
DJ Premier
Large Professor
L.E.S.
AZ
Olu Dara
Pete Rock
T La Rock
Busta Rhymes
Grand Wizard
Q-Tip

Download 9-Pages Scan (Hi-Res)

Make sure to support this issue by buying it at your local bookstore. This is the type of issue that will truly become a collectible. There are other noteworthy articles included in the issue that are worth reading after "Illmatic."

-- Thomas V

Blog Wars

So there's this guy I know, we'll call himmm.....Jim Bond. And he's completely lie-sexual. Meaning he lies about all of these girls that he doesn't bang, but he tells everyone that he does bang em, but we all know that he really doesn't bang em, and its just totally lame and sad, but whatever, whatcha gonna do, right? And who even says "bang", ya know?

He does.

So anyway, he told me about this one time when his mom had to go out of town for a few days so she had to hire a babysitter for him, and the babysitter that she hires is so unbelievably off-the-meter hot. Like Adventures in Babysitting on crystal-methamphetamine hot. So this character tells me, in all earnestness, that when his mom leaves, she leaves him in the care of this super hot chick who's wearing this "Vote for Obama '08" baby-tee and cut off shorts, and the first thing that he does is he sneaks out of the bathroom window and goes to booze with and bang out Sigourney Weaver all night.

Like, what's the point of that lie? In fact, I can think of double-digit reasons NOT to tell that lie.

Anyway, he has a blog. Check it out.

http://bondtana.blogspot.com/

Homeless and hungry, B&E at a studio near you.

Pseudo-Intellectual x Sexual Predator

What up! For all of you couples looking to spice things up missionary-monkey style, or you singles trying to impress that special someone you've met with a highly-sophisticated and cultured date, all the while letting them know what the deal REALLY is via some blatant sexual undertones (mostly animal related): look no more. Society and tax dollars are literally working their ass off for you....for you and for donkey-f*ckers.

MUSEUM OF SEX
233 Fifth Avenue (@ 27th Street)
New York, NY 10016
General Information: (212) 689-6337

Hours:
Sunday – Friday: 11:00am – 6:30pm (last ticket sold at 5:45pm)
Saturday: 11:00am – 8:00pm (last ticket sold at 7:15pm)
Closed Thanksgiving Day and Christmas Day
Adults (18+): $14.50 + tax
Students and Seniors (with valid ID): $13.50 + tax
Group Visits are also available

I need say no more. Enjoy the view. The Panda's won't mind...they're into that.

Why I Social Network

Moments like the following remind me of why I even bother to social network at all...I do it for the "hahahaha's" of Darrol Dawkins' alike all across the internet. I don't know you Darrol and I probably never will, but I am glad that I was able to add those 0.7 seconds of joy that it took to hit the 'H' and 'A' keys in rapid succession on your keyboard. You probably didn't smile at all, your facial expression most likely didn't even change a fraction of a fucking centimeter, but I know inside you were rolling all over that goddamn floor aughing your little digital ass off, and I...I am just glad to help out.

FACEBOOK STATUS MESSAGE

Sharon Chung says it never fails - the pizza man upstate said thank U to me in chinese n I said no I'm korean n he said isn't that the same thing?

23 minutes ago - Comment - LikeUnlike

Shonté M. Carter at 9:48pm February 25

That is hilarious!!!!!

Anthony Waweru at 9:55pm February 25

Where is the humor in that?

Darrol Dawkins at 9:57pm February 25

hahahaha!

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