Kobe proves once more that he can’t live up to MJ

(LOS ANGELES) Kobe Bryant stood before the podium this morning, at a loss for words. It was an uncharacteristic sight—the Laker guard is always good for a quote. But he never regained his composure, and only spoke afterward in an exclusive interview with The Peoples News.

“I finally admit it,” he said, as he slumped in the trainer’s room. “I will never match Michael Jordan.”

The admission was shocking. Since entering the NBA in 1996, Bryant, through his speech patterns, his laserlike focus on improving, and his intolerance for lazy, less talented teammates, has patterned himself after Jordan. He has always hoped to even surpass Jordan—but his statistics, while incredible when matched up against anyone else, pale in comparison to his idol.

That was never more apparent recently, when Bryant’s wife, Vanessa, announced she was divorcing him. Her reason: Bryant had sex with 105 women during their 10-year marriage.

Kobe haters scoffed.

“Jordan slept with way more than 10 women a year when he was married,” said Connecticut native and 1990s Bulls maniac Ron Berry. “Kobe really ain’t shit.”

“God, I hate Kobe,” said Keith Murphy, a diehard Chicago fan who has “23″ tattooed on his ankle. “Even when it comes to bagging hoes, he can’t match Mike.”

Bryant admitted as much this morning.

“I knew Mike had really put in his time with the ladies on the side. I knew he had them all over Chicago and one in every port on the road, but I couldn’t do it,” Bryant said. “If only Seattle hadn’t moved to Memphis. I know I could’ve bagged more chicks up there. Asian women love me.”

Bryant does take pride in how well he covered his tracks. After being accused of raping a woman in 2003, he gave his wife a ginormous diamond to buy her silence. Oops. I mean that indicated he had learned the error of cheating. Friends say he was faithful to Vanessa for the first few hours after giving her the diamond. But then one of his buddies called.

“Yeah, it was me who called him,” Tiger Woods told TPN. “I wasn’t even married at the time, so you know I was buggin’ the hell out.”

The two men decided to chase Jordan together, but the fabled Bull was still putting up solid numbers as he moved around the country.

“We couldn’t catch him,” Bryant said, his tone wistful. The longer he spoke, the more he seemed to accept that he would never catch Jordan in scoring average, universal recognition as the greatest player ever, or hoes bagged. But he would still try to win as many NBA titles—Kobe has five rings, while Jordan tallied six.

“At least that’s something,” he said. “I guess my career won’t be a total failure if I can get that sixth one.”

In related news, the ghost of Wilt Chamberlain sent TPN a text message: Jordan/Kobe=amateurs.

© 2011 The Peoples News

Jiminy and Merry Christmas at the family gathering in 1932.

(HENDERSON, NC) The skittish economy has taken its toll on Christmas.

Walter Christmas told The Peoples News that his family’s annual winter barbecue–which became so popular in the 1930s that it lent its name to the celebration of Jesus’ birth–will move to August next year because of the financial strain the December date puts on family members.

“Flights that last week of December are just ridiculously priced,” said Christmas, great-grandson of the holiday founders, Jiminy and Merry Christmas. “And then there were so many other travelers at that time because schools are out. It’s just too hectic.”

The African-American celebration will be more at home in the dog days of summer, says Walter’s cousin, Cissy Christmas, who hosts the annual gathering on her 40-acre plot.

“Great-grandmama and them would’ve wanted us to move it out of that cold weather,” she said. “I’ve been telling Walter that for years.”

The Christmas celebration started 82 years ago when Jiminy and Merry Christmas, two poor sharecroppers, threw a modest party that heralded the day they paid off their debt to the landowner. By the mid-1930s, family members had scattered across the country and talked so much about the annual party that neighbors adopted it.

“Before Jesus’ birthday was called ‘Christmas,’ it was simply called ‘Jesus’ Birthday’ and celebrated in a very simple fashion, if at all,” said Princeton religious professor Cornell West. “Back then, people understood that Easter–when Jesus rose from the dead and thereby saved humankind from eternal damnation–was the really important Christian holiday.”

President Truman approved renaming the national holiday in 1948.

Many of the Christmas family’s traditions have been co-opted into the mass holiday. A 1931 play by the Christmas children spoofed the obese landlord, Nicolas Klaus (who the family privately called Satan). He always wore a red suit when he collected his rent, and would bring along his red-nosed, drunken son, Rudolph, in case there was trouble.

Jiminy and Merry’s oldest daughter, Carol Christmas, also wrote a number of songs the family would sing every year—a tradition now called ‘caroling.’ One of her songs, where she imagined her light-skinned cousin passed as a white man, became a hit song, White Christmas.

“It really gives the song new meaning when you realize it’s an anthem of black power and white oppression,” said Danyel Smith, former editor in chief of Vibe.

Walter Christmas said he’s appalled how society has twisted the facts of the family gathering and Jesus’ birth.

“It’s incredible to me that people who celebrate Christmas as a religious holiday get caught up in all this b.s. about giving gifts and Santa and reindeer,” he said. “I mean, I see black people who work hard for their money telling their kids that an obese white man is bringing them all these presents. Priorities are seriously out of place.”

Following the announcement by the Christmas family, Charles Kwanzaa and Ruth Hannukah said their annual family gatherings will merge into Kwanzukah, which will explicitly celebrate Jesus.

Note: This article is satire, brought to you by the creative minds at The Peoples News. Happy Holidays!

© 2011 The Peoples News

New host

(HOLLYWOOD) One day after Eddie Murphy dropped out of hosting the Oscars, the Academy dropped a bombshell: His brother, Charlie Murphy, will emcee the extravaganza.

“Charlie Murphy is an amazing talent, an incredible storyteller, and he scares the hell out of everyone,” new Oscar producer Brian Grazer told The Peoples News. “If only Rick James was still with us, he could co-host.”

Grazer said Prince and Dave Chappelle, however, remain possibilities.

Eddie Murphy dropped out a day after his good friend, Brett Ratner, stepped down as producer due to a furor over him using the word ‘fag.’

While Billy Crystal, Whoopi Goldberg and Steve Martin were considered as replacements as host, Charlie Murphy’s selection provides another boon.

“He and Eddie look so much alike,” said Academy President Tom Sherak, “that maybe the audience won’t know the difference.”

Lesson, Hopefully, Learned

By Xavier Muhammad

This is not what happened to Herman Cain

(SUBURBAN ATLANTA) A gang of white men came to Herman Cain’s house in the middle of the night. They called out to him, and when he appeared on the porch, they dragged him into one of their trucks at gunpoint, as his wife, children and grandchildren stood on the porch, helpless to do anything as the trucks disappeared into the darkness.

Cain was beaten with a tire iron and baseball bat. His genitals, ears and fingers were cut off. He was wrapped in barbed wire and cut with knives. The mob urinated and defecated on him. Still living, Cain was tied to a stake and burned. His screams pierced the night, but no one stepped forward to help him. His charred corpse was hoisted into a tree, where the mob fired countless rounds into it, and left it hanging for all to see.

“And that’s what a lynching is, you sonofabitch,” one of the men said.

Cain was then brought back to life, and he and his supporters vowed to never compare anything he goes through to a lynching, high tech or not.

And While Lessons Are Being Learned…

“Hitlerly” Clinton. Really, people?

(HEAVEN) Adolf Hitler’s ghost came to me last night with a message: He’s sick of people being compared to him.

“I slaughtered millions of Jews and gypsies and Poles and anything I could get close to. Sure, I used soldiers and scientists to do my bidding, but if I could’ve done it with my bare hands I would have,” the epitome of evil ranted. “These piddly little paper pushers shouldn’t even be mentioned in the same sentence as me.”

Preach on, ghost of Hitler.

Just like lynchings, Hitler comparisons are out of control. Are we that ignorant of history? Hank Williams Jr. compared President Obama to Hitler after he played golf with John Boehner. Liberals called George Bush Hitler. Chris Christie and Michael Bay—Michael Bay…the director—have been compared to Hitler. Kanye West compared himself to Hitler. (Idiot). Georgia state rep John Yates compared illegal immigrants to Hitler. A radio host compared Jimmy Carter to Hitler. Another compared Abraham Lincoln to Hitler.

It is an awful comparison, and unless you are saying Pol Pot or Joseph Stalin, or, to a lesser extent, Gadhafi or Hussein, completely wrong. Let the moratorium begin.

—Craig Bates

© 2011 The Peoples News

Conrad Murray was the worst kind of doctor. Michael Jackson was the worst kind of patient: A drug addict who needed desperately to sleep.

Together, they were a terrible, combustible, ill-fated combination. And now Murray is headed to jail, and Michael is still gone. We are left with a trial that forever put into the public psyche the hazy image of Michael, wrapped in a gown,  laid out dead, and a recording of him a month before that grisly photo, his voice frighteningly unrecognizable. When I heard it the first time, the description that his voice was ‘slurred’ proved woefully inadequate. His voice wasn’t slurred. He sounded as if he’d had a stroke. For one of the signature voices of my life to be corrupted like that was unforgivable.

Let me be clear: I was a Michael mark. Not in 2009, no. But from the time I was a tot growing up in Motown until my 20s, Michael could do no wrong. My older sister got the Jackson Five’s Third Album back in 1970, and from then on, she and I waited with the impatience of small children whenever our favorite brothers were going to be on Flip Wilson or Carol Burnett or Sonny & Cher. There were no forgotten chores, no missed homework assignments, no trouble of any kind from us during one of those weeks. When the Jackson brothers came on, we would be front and center, singing along to every song.

As I grew older, and Michael starred in The Wiz, then released Off the Wall and Thriller, and then brought back the Moonwalk on Motown 25, I was along for the ride. I owned every album, knew every word of every song, plopped down a $20 and a $10 for a ticket to the Victory tour.

But shortly thereafter, I took my leave. Yes, I bought Bad and Dangerous. But Michael was getting weirder—you know all the reasons why—and Public Enemy and New Jack Swing and hip hop and younger artists were making better music than him. To my mind, Michael had a great run, 20+ solid years as an important hitmaker, a streak much longer than the Beatles or Prince and rivaling that of Elvis and Stevie Wonder. Michael’s weirdness and settling with Jordy Chandler made me tune him out. From time to time, I would hope that Michael would stop giggling, would stop speaking in that fey, soft tone, would put out an album that revealed the musical genius I knew him to be. But it never happened. I grew further from him.

So just before that terrible moment on June 25, 2009, when my colleague came running down the hall with an insistent He’s dead, and I stepped into the hallway to ask who, and my legs stopped wanting to support me when I heard, and I called the only person who mattered in that moment—my sister—Michael Jackson was just the name of someone I used to love. I had no desire to go to his London concerts. I assumed they would be a ballyhooed flop, if he even completed them. And just so you understand I’m not a hypocrite, when he was no more, I thanked him on these pages for the joy he had brought me in his first 25 years, while acknowledging that his last 25 years would complicate his legacy for many.

Michael is dead. The man who escorted him on his death path has been punished. Conrad Murray gave us Michael’s last recording. One a far cry from Earth Song, Jam, Billie Jean, Let Me Show You the Way To Go, Looking Through the Windows, I Want You Back. One that has no falsettos. No ‘hee-hees.’ No ripping growls. Instead, Mike is drugged and the tape is frightening and thank God I have MP3s and youtube and CDs and This Is It and everything else. Because goodness knows, this terrible, awful final recording is not how I want to remember him.

—Bill Matthews

© 2011 The Peoples News