When Making It Rain Goes Wrong

Pictured above: Future head of the Federal Reserve

I was having a conversation with a friend last night about Pacman Jones, the pro-football player who is not currently on a team. On July 18th he was involved in an incident in a Las Vegas strip club that lead to the shooting of three people.

Watch it here.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2PDGTom0gZM

The incident was caught on camera and according to ESPN it's very offensive and disturbing. I however found it absolutely hilarious. There are many reasons as to why I find some douche bag, faux-gangsta, out-of-work pro-football player throwing $100,000 dollars on a bunch of strippers and having that act lead to violence funny even though when you put it that way it's not funny at all.

There are several things in this video that I find absolutely ridiculous. First is how nonchalantly he is "making it rain". If there has ever been anyone that makes it seem to be a hassle to have an armful of thousands of dollars this guy does it so better than anyone.

Jones creates a torrential down pour that completely inhibits the hoes from doing their thing. This is where Jermaine Dupri decides to enter his two cents.

The guy that is famous for just appearing in other rappers videos and "makin it rain" all of a sudden appears in this very strip club and hands out a lesson in "makin it rain". Dupri stakes his case as the foremost expert on "makin it rain on hoes" and instructs the hoes to keep dancing and not pick up the thousands of dollars that Jones is throwing about.

We have now reached a fork in the road of strip club etiquette. Is it appropriate to advise another patron on how to make it rain on the hoes or should you keep your tips to yourself? Pacman Jones wasn't looking for tips that night and he responded with bullets. I suppose this incident will go down as a precedent in strip club policy.

This sociopath then beats on one of the strippers because she is too busy scooping up all this money and not dancing. I have always taken the side of strippers but now more than ever I feel we need to rally behind strippers and show them our support.

I don't know if anyone has noticed but we are in a bit of an economic downturn. No jobs. No money. No hope. Somewhere there is a single mother with implants that are sponsored by some cheese ball gold necklace wearing Vegas sleeze bag and she is living the American Dream in it's current state.

She is grinding her fake tits all day on business men that to some degree are probably responsible for her best bet of making a better life is being naked on stage all day.

America, land of the free home of tragic irony.

I would like to see Timothy Geitner try to regulate the amount of "rain" one can "make" in a strip club. I think he would be just as capable at that as he is at balancing out our economy.

Both are frivolous efforts that end in violence so let's give him a shot.

In fact I think Jermaine Dupri and every person making a financial decision in our government is full of fucking shit! I think our Secretary of the Treasury is the foremost authority on "makin' it rain on dem hoes". Pacman Jones is shelling out a measly $100,000 on strippers in Vegas but the Obama Administration is showering the most atrociously corrupt individuals in American history with billions of dollars.

Who really knows how to "make it rain"?

This debacle is certainly uniquely American and would never happen anywhere else in the world. Our entire planet is literally coming apart at the seems. I might have a supremely dark sense of humor in that I find it funny that somebody is willing to kill somebody else over how they shower strippers with money but then again it's nothing new.

George W. Bush tried to make it rain oil. Robert McNamara made it rain napalm. Pacman Jones made it rain in thousands of one dollar bills. You may call me crazy but I feel it all ended in similar outcomes.

With Love & Respect,

Mike James

Tripping In Amsterdam Story

There is no good way to intro this so I'm just going to tell you my next story from Amsterdam and I will assure you that absolutely every detail is completely true.

This one is about magical mushrooms.

The first part of this experience I'm going to copy word for word from my journal I had with me while I was tripping. There is four hours that I simply have no clue how to write about besides just copy down what I wrote in my journal. The second part is much different and was much more enjoyable for me. So I invite you to vicariously enjoy a mushroom trip in Amsterdam through me!

Sunday July 5th 2009: somewhere between 5:oo P.M. and 3 A.M.

I'm not sure you can call what I just experienced magical. Magic normally is just an illusion and it makes little kids laugh and clap. There was no trick about what just happened. I ate the most intense mushrooms they had and almost lost my mind. Where is the magic?

They were called Psilocybe Atlantis magic truffles. The box says "Numenorian XTC" that just sounds too intense. These are the most beastly, not neighborly mushrooms I've come across in my day. I am a very experienced eater of fungus so I was very confident I would have no problem handling these things. This was not the case.

After we purchased them I suggested we go check out a museum and wait for them to kick in. My buddy, let's call him Clarence had a better idea to chomp them at a coffee shop and walk back to the hotel afterwards. we ate them and smoked some hash then walked back to get a beer at the bar.

We all started to get really quiet sitting at the hotel bar. My stomach started to feel real funny and I began to pour sweat. All of a sudden the liquor bottles began to grow and shrink. The necks of the bottles were swaying back and like prairie grass in a light breeze.

The golden lighting that shined down from the top of the bar was illuminating my Heineken like it was God's own cold one. I turned to my left to look at my other buddy, let's call him Billy D. His face was frozen in utter bewilderment and terror. The glaze of confusion and fear in his eyes didn't settle with me in any way.

I stood up fast and almost feel over. I exclaimed that I needed a cigarette and walked outside. The air hit me like jumping into a pool of cool water but when I lit my cigarette it felt like molten lava being poured down my throat. I continued smoking it nonetheless because I had to get myself together by the end of it.

Billy D came out and let off what had to of been a 10 minute long rolling fart that smelled like rancid Indian food. I was too concerned about the concrete steps that were forming into waves and seemed impossible to navigate but I'm pretty sure everyone in front of the hotel immediately distanced themselves from us.

I threw my cigarette down after only a couple puffs and said "I think I'm going puke."

I turned around to walk inside but knew I didn't have a shot in hell of making it to the room or even through the lobby for that matter. I hustled back down the wavy hotel steps, stumbled around the corner, for some reason I was able to hold off and let a chick on a bike pass by me then I just unleashed the beast.

I yaked several times right there on the sidewalk in Amsterdam before collapsing backwards on the front steps of our hotel. (NH Hotels Amsterdam) Billy D comes to save me as Clarence just stared blankly. He asked me if I needed some water. I mumbled some gibberish and handed 20 euro for the beers.

"Take care of it!" Is all I could muster out.

I wanted no part of that beer. I gathered myself for a moment. I was able to mainly because I was so shocked that no one even noticed what I had just done. I got up and we finally made it up to the room. I had been hit with a 10 ten ton Day-Glo painted truck. Completely leveled.

Once I made it to the room I laid on the bed unable to move anything but my eye balls, which were doing a lot of moving. The ceiling was much more active than I was.

That's when Billy D started shitting. It was nonchalant at first but as soon as he walked out of the bathroom the first time he turned right back around.

I tried to get up and stand but only made it to the trash can where I began to puke again. I'm very glad I didn't run into the bathroom because I would of puked on Billy D while he was having explosive diarrhea.

Clarence was laughing so hard tears were pouring down his face. I held the trash can and got up feeling much better. Billy D walked out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel.

"I'm tripping so hard I shit myself." he says with gigantic pupils but completely serious face.

"What?!" Another roar of laughter and I begin puking again.

"I can't stop shitting. I don't know what's wrong with me. I wasn't expecting this. This isn't that much fun."

"Maybe it's the fact you've been eating nothing but huge bowls of fries and mayonaisse since we got here" Clarence manages to add.

"It may be but I don't think I can go far from a toilet."

"Come on man your fine. Look at me I've puke like three times now."I said trying to convince him to come.

"You at least have control over your bowels!"

"That's true I do."

I had to get out of the room. There was waaaaay too much shitting and puking going on in such a small area. I wanted nothing more than to make it across the street to lay in the grass beside the beautiful canal. There was a shady patch that I thought could be considered a "safe-zone" for tripping. I didn't want to be in the room with Billy D shitting everywhere.

If I completely lost my mind in the process of trying to get to the grass by God I was going to. I had never wanted something so bad than to make it out of that hotel room and get down to the grass.

Clarence and I decided that it was time to venture out and try this. It was difficult to part ways with Billy D. I didn't know what was happening to him but I honestly was not that interested in finding out at that moment.

We made it to the elevators. The Nederlands is supposedly the tallest nation in the world and I have seen many tall people here but what were they thinking when they designed our hotel's elevators? They had to of outsourced to a contractor from Smurf Village because this thing felt like a sardine can.

This guy was standing literally 3 inches from Clarence's tomato red face. This guy was breathing so hard it was creating a gulf stream effect in that stupid little elevator. If Billy D had come with us everyone in the elevator would of been put out by his ass stench and nobody would figure it out until the toxicology reports came back weeks later.

It seemed to take lifetimes for the door to finally open and I made a direct move for outside.

I saw the cars, the people on bikes, an extremely gorgeous skyline and almost completely forgot what I came outside to do. Then I saw the canal and a very welcoming patch of shade.

Must get to "safe-trip zone". The brick streets of Amsterdam and very confusing. If I had to drive I would being doing head-ons into trams, falling into the canal while trying to parallel park and being completely lost all the time. It is hard enough to just walk across the street here.

I made it past 3 lanes of traffic and had only one more to go. I didn't make the light in time and a mob of traffic is sailing past me on both sides. I look at Clarence and he is just giggling. He has no idea. I'm fully aware of the danger. I was the victim of a hit and run in Vegas one time but that's a different story.

I wonder why the "safe-trip zone" is so dangerous to get to. When you are tripping your balls off there is no time for irony.

I finally made it to the grass, proceeded to roll around on the ground and reflected on my long tumultulous journey that has brought me here.

What a long strange trip it has been.

That was the last sentence I had written. It's difficult to calculate but I imagine approximately 15-20 minutes passed that entire time.

For the next four hours I did some frolicking, staring, pondering, chasing ducks, puking then I would repeat starting from the beginning.

After probably 4 hours of this it was I all of a sudden woke up from this Alice in Wonderland like dream. I realized I had completely forgot about Billy D and figured he had gone insane and crapped all over our walls. This was a concern because the hotel had my credit card.

We got upstairs and Billy D was sitting with his feet propped up watching an IRL race. It was the Texas 550 which is my second favorite race on the schedule but that's completely besides the point because I could not believe an Indy car race was on in Dutch at that time. I was expecting to open the door and the room would be trashed with shit literally everywhere.

Billy D, happy as could be said "Briscoe is making a run for it man I can't believe it! Oh and I stopped shitting."

I burst into laughter and was unable to muster any kind of a response. There was no response really needed. Then I watched the final 15 laps. It was impossible to understand anything. I don't think the Dutch announcers really even knew what was happening.

Billy D said soon after we left he found the race on TV and it pretty much saved himself from setting his mind adrift. The best part was he said every twenty minutes he would have to shit but didn't want to miss the laps it took for him to finish. So he turns the volume up on the TV to go take a shit but doesn't figure it out until he is on his throne that it isn't going to work.

I won't drone on about the rest of the night because it was a long one and this has been long enough. We caught up and laughed a lot. I hadn't seen my friends for more than a year and a half so it was pretty great to just bull shit with them like the good old days. It felt good to see them and to be able to share another wild experience together in such a beautiful place.

That's why I went to Amsterdam. The most incredible moments of your life are shared. So many times I will enjoy retelling a story to a bunch of people than actually living through it. That's what makes it worth it and fun. It's all about the clown and it always has been.

With Love & Respect,

Mike

So sleepy, so very sleepy.

Not Pictured: Snarling scary wolf creeping up to devour kitten.

I'm finally back home in my quaint little corner of the city and even though Amsterdam is probably the most beautiful city I've ever seen it's good to be back in Silverlake. It's good to see everything written in a different language, it's still a language I can't even come close to speaking but at least it's familiar.

It's also very nice to have television that makes some sort of sense again. Dutch TV is completely ridiculous. You can be watching a lost episode of Becker then it will without any reason whatsoever cutaway to hardcore porn. Maybe it was actually part of show I don't know because I could never stand more than 45 seconds of Becker. Go to Amsterdam for the picturesque scenery and the uncensored lost episodes of Becker.

I really did try my damnedest to recap each day as I went. As you can see that didn't get that far. I was proud that I was able to recap two days. I didn't really even think I'd get that far. My point is that I have so so so many stories from my trip this past week but my brain is currently just a few molecules away from being petroleum jelly. I would start in and share but I fear my mind grapes will begin to leak out of my ears.

I have lots of hilarious pictures that I will share. (only SFW photos of course) I don't have them yet because I lost my camera and need my buddy to send me the pics. I picked that picture today because 1.) I don't really have to be funny because I have a pic of a cute kitten sleeping and who doesn't love a cute kitten sleeping 2.) This is me today.

As soon as my body has recovered from the extreme sleep loss and I get some vitamins in me (I've been operating on a diet consisting only of falafel and fries with mayo) I'll be ready to bust out some of the magical moments from Amsterdam.

I need to find a job now. I'm completely broke. My Chuck Taylor's smell like deep fried anal leakage. Don't eat yellow snow. Four score and seven years ago Christopher Columbus walked on the moon. Oh man I think I need to go back to bed.

Love & Respect,

Mike James

Day 2 Recap

Happy Fourth of July!!! Today is the day when we celebrate how kick ass it is to be American. I would say that I wish I could be in my country to celebrate our Independence but that would not be true because Amsterdam is really really awesome.

Last night was a strange one though. In fact it was a borderline bummer but after reading what I posted last night it's now ironic and funny. It's ironic and funny because I drank some strange energy elixr that had me jacked up enough to conquer the world. When we left the coffee shop my buddy Bill forgot the map and we wandered aimlessly for a very long time.

We finally just decided to pick a club to go into and somehow (I have no idea how) we managed to find the one lame club in Amsterdam. There were a ton a dudes but it wasn't a gay bar apparently and the music played out like Jock Jams Vol. 2. We payed a cover though and I don't have money to burn so we toughed it out.

The energy elixr was worn off and I couldn't take one more dude "accidentally"bumping into me so we left, went back to the hotel and got some much needed rest.

Not that exciting I know but I woke up very refreshed and got well hydrated. (Hydration is key to continued clowning) I went to the market, got some fruit, went to a park by the canal, smoked a spliff and did some writing. I wrote some poetry just because I thought it was such an all to perfect moment I wanted to be prepared if a hot chick walked up to me and asked what I was doing.

I also sketched out a solid outline for this short film I want to shoot in two weeks. It's going to be halarious and hopefully not look as hood rich as my last production.

I believe we will make another attempt at a club tonight but I'm taking a differnt approach from here on out. Amsterdam is a rather intense place and the possibility of a quick burn out is highly likely.

It's not a sprint, it's a marathon baby.

Love & Respect,

Mike

Day 1 Recap

Hello from Amsterdam! Wow day one was quite a ride. We were only in Amsterdam for a couple of hours before we high tailed it to Belgium for the \Rock Werchter festival. Which was incredible. 80,000 people were going bat shit crazy. it took us a good forty minutes just to get into the venue. (i am now going to for go capitalizing because it is to difficult on a dutch board i did have a belgium waffle and they are no joke. they put on kick ass festivals and make some bitchin' waffles.

i almost caused an international incident during oasis because this really pretty blonde chick appartently wanted to practice her english on me as well as her drunken griding skills. it was nice to finally talk to one of the thousands of unbeleivably beautiful women in attendance. only problem was that she had a boyfriend. a boyfriend that was much smaller and shyer than i. his big irish friend was not shy however and made it as pleasantly clear as he could that he wasn't exactly happy with this girl practicing her english on me.

that's when we moved further up.

after festival we had to crash on a sidewalk outside train station in mechelin belgium. most comfortable sidewalk i had ever slept on. got up bout 6 and took the train back which was one of the longest rides i have ever taken in my life. especially since the cart we were in sounded like walrus dying. i don't think that is the most soothing sound to sleep to but it made due.

after the greatest shower i've ever taken in my life and a very long nap i'm ready to attack once more. i'm typing this from magic coffeshop with a two foot bong packed with blue cheese beside me. ice tea in a can takes care of the dry throat but i thirst for strong drink and women.

after a year of fine tuning my night life club skills on the mean streets of hollywood i'm more than preparing to tackle the scene here.

will update next possible opportunity. cheers!

love & respect,

mike

The Calm Before the Storm

The best pic on Google search I could find that demonstrates what is going on in my head right now.

I write to you this evening on the eve of my inaugural trip to Amsterdam. Tomorrow morning at 7:00 A.M. I will fly out of LAX for Newark then it's on to The Netherlands. (Good God even the name of the place is awesome!) It is a trip that I have had planned out for 3 months now and anticipation is at maximum capacity.

I will be traveling with my two best friends from college. Two guys that are complete clowns. God's own prototype. Created with no intention of mass production. Many of my stories were instigated by these two individuals. This is without a doubt the calm before the storm. I'm packed. I have my passport. Sketch pad. Journal. Moderately sized American flag and a fully stocked iPod. After a year of getting coffee, sitting on the 405 for countless hours and generally figuring out what the fuck I'm doing out here comes this epic trip to the capital of all that is feel good.

The fact that marijuana can be smoked legally in Amsterdam in all reality doesn't hold that much zeal to me. I'm a California medical marijuana patient and also an experienced connoisseur of fine cannabis. I feel in my days I've smoked some of the finest cheeba this side of the Missisip. (Mainly because they got shit on the other side of it.)

I am a journalist though. First and foremost. I report on and cover the issues that I feel are most pertinent to my readers. My audience is the most important thing to me and by God I will not let you down.

I've tried to mold "The Hollywood Holla" into your top resource for ridiculousness and lunacy since its conception. This is my opportunity to take it to the next level.

Rehashing old stories is fun but it's stale. It's time for some new material and I'm going to report on my adventures every step of the way for the next week I am in Amsterdam. Every horrifyingly spectacular detail of it can be shared on twitter if you follow me at www.twitter.com/heymikejames

I will also try to get a blog up everyday with some pics. It's my intention that you few dedicated followers of "The Holla" can enjoy my antics and live vicariously with a mischievous farm boy in Amsterdam!

Love & Respect,

Mike James

Tips For a Good Time While Abroad

Probably the coolest dude you will ever meet.

In light of all the recent tragedies and loss that we have experienced in the past few days (meaning the loss of Ed Mcmahon, Farra Fawcett and that peder-ass, oh yea and I almost forgot the hundreds of innocent lives lost fighting for freedom in Iran) I thought I would give a light hearted look on some of my conquests on foreign soil.

I am going to Amsterdam in one week and will return with some stupendous stories of ridiculousness. So you could consider this a hype post for what is to come. I plan on trying to "live-blog" or whatever from Amsterdam as I clown at an extreme level.

Let's begin with a few lessons that I have learnt from my foreign travels. Some the hard way, some I was already completely aware of but did it anyway because I don't give a fuck.

1.) "You are American. You do not have to do anything at all to make it blatantly clear that you are American. So don't."

There has to be cultural evidence somewhere that would lead to a reason that all Americans talk really loud. Maybe not all Americans but I do. It must be because we think what we have to say is so much more important that what anyone else has to say or at least I think that.

Point being, I was at Trinity College in Rome, Italy. It is a popular bar among the University of Rome students. I went with a group there one night when I was studying in Italy and drank like the last batch of alcohol on the entire planet was in this bar alone. I was enjoying myself making my group crack up and giggle at my humorous observations of Rome and it's people before I got bored.

In the corner across from us were two eastern European women, one red head one blond, one very attractive, the other not so much and they were both staring me down. I pointed it out to a couple of my buddies they concurred that I was in fact being stared down by two very prostitute-ish looking women.

I could of evaluated the situation rationally. I am 6'5. At the time I had a curly haired mess of a fro that added at least 4 inches. I was also trying to see how many WWF entrance theme songs I could sing barbershop quartet acapella style. Looking back I can see how that would attract attention.

Nonetheless I made an approach.

Hey my name is Mike. I'm from the states.

I'm Helda.

I'm Ezmerelda.

I love girls that have names that end in vowels.

(the blonde with a thick Russian accent) You from the states? You're so tall.

(the red head licks her lips and I realize what I'm doing. I get a sick feeling, then panic.) You're cute.

(the blonde) You like to party?

(the red head) Yea you should come party with us?

I turn around and look at my friends behind me. A couple of my buddies are laughing hysterically and the one girl in our group is shaking her head motioning for me to come back over.

Fuck yea I like to party!

Just then a dude with a leather trench coat, sunglasses (it was 2 in the morning) and a five a clock shadow that was closer to midnight came up behind me and got in between the two girls.

Who the fuck is this?

My heart stops. Instantly sober.

This is Mike he likes to party.

The two girls bounce and giggle in a way that still haunts me.

I'm kind of tired actually.

No expression from the big, angry and very scary Russian dude.

So nice meeting you but look there's my cab!

I run out of the bar, get in a cab, go back to the hotel and go to sleep leaving my group behind.

2.) "Don't assume the locals don't understand English."

A few weeks after the Trinity College incident I was in a different city studying different paintings and the place in Italy to get your art on is Florence. Florence, Italy has been the hub and epicenter for the enlightened academic for centuries. I love art, especially the incredible mosaics but more than that the amount of college students studying art in Florence. It's the Panama City of Italy as much I hate to say that it's a reasonable assessment if you have ever partied in both locations with people of the same age.

So we are at this club called Armageddon or something like that. It was a trance/dark techno type club that I was not digging at all and was getting very bored. I began looking for girls that were looking equally bored. I found two in a booth across the way. I went over to start talking to them. They smiled and didn't speak English really well. A side tip in talking to girls overseas is to talk fast and smile a lot. Let your face express all that is needed to be said. I didn't think they understood a word I said but apparently they were cool with me and I invited my two buddies over to their table.

We got another couple of rounds and clowned with two cute Italian girls. They spoke broken English but we basically just acted like idiots and made them laugh. We then of course when the time came invited them back to our hotel room. The numbers were against us but it didn't deter me one bit. One of the girls kissed me on the way out and we held hands the whole way back.

Signed, sealed and delivered.

We got back and I popped open a round of Peroni beers from our mini fridge. One of my friend's, we will call him Ghetto because that is actually what we call him. He looks like the dude who banged the apple pie on American Pie. He puts that cliched stereotype to shame. He takes the loser that has a great heart but no idea what is going on to a new level.

Ghetto was hammered. Just plain destroyed and began saying whatever came to his mind to these girls thinking they couldn't understand any of it. Meanwhile I'm working my ass off trying to spit game at this girl's friend in a language I'm not even close to speaking correctly.

Why don't you get naked?! What's taking so long? Ha ha ha! They have no idea. I could say anything! You have great tits! I have an incredibly small penis!

The girls begin to giggle a different giggle. Then one leans to the other and covers her mouth as she whispers in her ear. The girl I was talking to begins to giggle the same way.

Dude, I'm pretty sure they understood every word you just said.

Undeterred Ghetto continues.

Please just have sex with me. I promise it will be over before you even know it. Ha ha ha!

The girls laugh again and the girl who I have now realized understands English perfectly is laughing so hard she is crying and holding her hand up demonstrating about 3 inches between her index finger and thumb. The other girl bursts into laughter as well. This is not going well for me.

Dude, you are blowing this for me. Shut the fuck up.

In a fit of laughter the two girls stand up grab a bottle of wine that is not theirs, take their beers with them and head out the door. They didn't even say "chao".

3.) "Buy a round!"

Probably the most important tip I could possibly pass on. The number one key when drinking and being merry is making sure those around you are drinking and being merry as well. It's important to include others in your good time. It's selfish to be having more fun than anyone else and not allow anyone who wants to participate in the good time with you. That's why you buy rounds because it will pay off in many different ways.

The picture above is me on a cruise this past Christmas. We went to Belize, Isla Rotan, Cozumel some other places it was amazing. The most impressive part of the trip was this small club called "Medusa" on the Carnival Cruise ship Legend. The first night on the cruise I went in and there wasn't a soul in there. I sat at the bar, drank Beam and cokes talking to the bar tender, Jacques. I told him I would turn this place into the hottest spot on the sea by the end of the week.

The last night Medusa was max capacity to the point of a huge line of people young and old. I bought 40 red headed sluts and handed them out to the entire dance floor. Jacques told me before I left that it was a record sales week for liquor on the boat. Completely sold out of Jagermiester and Jim Beam. I was the only one drinking Beam though.

I'll do more hyping of Amsterdam before I go. This is just a little taste of what is to come. The Kogi truck (http://kogibbq.com/) is coming to Silverlake tonight and I've been going on nothing but a Big Mac all day so I've got important business to take care of for now. Be good and stayed tuned for more ridiculousness.

Love & Respect,

Mike James