Big ups to Zeke (the fact that he has his own tag on Brahsome elates me — it really does) for passing along this story of Jersey City Council member Steven Lipski, who apparently thinks he runs the show at the 9:30 club. Either that or he has enough clout to start making it rain yellow on the crowd in the middle of a concert.

Councilman Steven Lipski was caught relieving himself onto several revelers at the 9:30 Club during a concert by a Grateful Dead tribute band Friday night, club sources said.

“He was very drunk,” the source said, noting that it wasn’t the first time Lipski had caused a ruckus at the popular concert venue.

“We’ve dealt with this man before,” the source added. “He’s never peed on anybody, but he gets really belligerent and drunk.”

While I see no reason to relate this story to any of Brahsome’s team (*cough*Stamos!*cough*), it is fascinating to note that this guy isn’t getting in any sort of trouble. And yes, I realize he didn’t kill anyone or cause any irreparable harm to the people he quasi-violated (barring one of them being allergic to urine anyway), but still … the dude pissed all over a crowd at a concert. Just because he can claim he’s going to quit drinking and refuse to admit that he was indeed the urinator doesn’t mean we should turn a blind eye to the fact that his semi-celeb status as a politician is letting him get away with

In an interview with complex.com VH1’s favorite son Flava Flav disclosed he lost dat V-card at the tender age of 6.  That’s right, at the age most kids think the opposite sex has cooties Flav was plowing in the bushes.  At least he didn’t have to worry about getting that lucky lady preggers.  Flav currently has seven (known) children by three baby momas.  The shocker there is that he doesn’t have more babies and baby momas.

Complex: Where did you lose your virginity?

Flavor Flav: Where did I lose my virginity? I lost my virginity in the bushes on a box.

Complex: Really?

Flavor Flav: Yea, in the bushes on a box. A girl and me were having sex on a box in the bushes, in some big tall bushes.

Complex: How uh…when was this?

Flavor Flav: This was when I was real, real, real, real, young.

Complex: Like elementary school? Or middle school?

Flavor Flav: Nah, I’m a tell you the truth; I lost my virginity when I was 6 years old.

Complex: Really?

Flavor Flav: Yea, man. Because you know we learned to have done the nasty back in the days, and me and this girl we experiment, we were experimenting, and my little joint got hard, I penetrated for about a few seconds.

Complex: I respect that. Early start my man.

Flavor Flav: That’s right early start and guess what and I have a great finish right now. [Laughs] Yessir!

The greatest hype man of all time also discloses the worst trick ever played on him.  Someone put a booger on his hamburger and he unknowingly ate it.  Don’t worry, Flav got his.  He spread some dog-shat on a ritz cracker and convinced the dood it was a “peanut butter cookie sandwich.”

Everyone knows that every party has a pooper. And in the case of NBA Draft parties, that pooper was Jay Bilas. (I will now hang myself for quoting Martin Short in FotB.) But seriously, Bilas was the scourge of NBA fans, douchy frat-bags and alcoholics everywhere last Thursday night when he refused to use the phrases “long” and “upside” throughout ESPN’s 29 hour long coverage of the NBA draft in it’s entirety. Why? Because he knows about the drinking games.

Did you notice that I did not use the terms “long” or “upside” a single time during ESPN’s NBA draft coverage? I am aware of the drinking games that are based upon the use of such terms, and I did my level best to reduce binge drinking across the country. We all have to do what we can. Instead of “long,” I used the terms “length,” “stretch,” “elongated,” “extend” and the ever-popular “considerable linear extent in space.” With one player, I stated that his arms “extend beyond normal or moderate limits.” The descriptive term “long” has been a term of art in basketball for years, but it was kind of fun to see if I could go the entire draft without using it. I’ll probably go back to my usual terminology now.

Touche, Mr. Bilas. Touche. As a Dookie, we expect nothing less than minimal binge drinking (lax based douchebaggery, well, that’s another story). I hereby announce an amendment to future NBA draft drinking games that includes any phrase synonymous with the term “long” or “upside”, and additionally one that will incorporate similar synonyms for the term “upside”.

Via FH

(Ed. Note: When in doubt, hijack material from your little brother.)

So there’s this dude, London Mayor Boris Johnson, and he thinks that drinking and debauchery on public transportation is somehow bad. Which seems about as explicable as Rudy Giuliani’s wanting to get the easy-access porn off of the New York city streets. Ridiculous, no?

Anyway, the Underground (I’ve never set foot in London, so I have no idea what this really is) is being cleaned up, and the video you see above, well, that is the last party that will go down on the public transportation before the ban on booze and heroin sets in.

The Last Order of the Underground thought up the idea for the party and organized the throwdown. However, like any half decent party, too many people showed up. And like any half decent party, those too many people got drunk and decided to harass policemen. This naturally led to 17 arrests and the shutting down of half the transportation.

The interesting thing, to me, is that ole’ Boris is taking the same approach that Giuliani (reportedly) took with NYC. That is, wipe out all the small crime, and the big crime will dissipate. (It’s worth noting that, based on Malcolm Gladwell’s The Tipping Point, it’s actually not Giuliani who came up with this idea, he just backdoored it like Bill Clinton’s economy.) Anyway, it’s a worthwhile venture in an attempt to clean up a major city’s crime, but it still kind of sucks that he’s taking away the right to drink freely on public transportation. That seems like, other than the fantastic dental plans, one of the top reasons to visit/live in London.

Finally. Some sort of redemption for an absolutely brutal Celtics – Cavaliers series. It came, of course, in the form of Paul Pierce and LeBron James scoring a combined 86 points in Game 7 at the New Garden, and it was a second half actually worth watching … unlike the rest of this series (particularly that three-quarter-score Game 6).

There’s not much more to say about it though; LeBron needs to get Mike Brown axed and Danny Ferry better get his ass working on some sort of deal to get James a worthy sidekick (no offense Boobie and/or skeletal remains of Wally Szcerbs). Doc Rivers is still a horrible coach — think about it: Doc, Brown, Flip Saunders and Ron Jeremy were the last four standing in the Eastern Conference — and the Pistons should roll the Celtics. Should. Might not, but should, if the C’s play like they have the first two rounds.

Anyway, towards the end of the game last night, my cable started to fuzz out. (Random diverging thought begins … NOW.) Naturally, I dropped f-bombs in the direction of the already much maligned (look, a Facebook group!) Time Warner monopoly that sucks ass at attempting to provide me with television services flashes moving pictures at me for money.

Then later, I was lying in bed, watching Seinfeld to go to sleep — it’s like recharging my sarcasm batteries overnight — and kept missing when I tried to fast forward through commercials. See, Greensboro cable doesn’t have that “smart” feature that lets you fly past the return of the show, hit play and then jump back. That’s because it’s effing stupid. So you have to really be prepared to stop and you kind of max out on the third arrow, which in and of itself, is beyond annoying.

But now, it appears as if the television shows are trying to outsmart us. Or me. And I may be insane and none of this is happening. (Strong possibility.) See, you used to be guaranteed — and only TNT and the primetime shows are any good at this anymore — of having a network commercial immediately preceding the return of the show. Because, obviously, that’s the highest profile spot and the networks are trying to whore out Bill Engvall Tyler Perry whatever their great, very funny, shows are. So they stick them there. But not anymore. Now Fox is running: show, standy two commericials, network commercial, new commercial, show.

I obviously hit play when I see the network commercial and end up falling prey to the bonus ad right before Seinfeld comes back on. Which leads me to believe that in the world of DVR in which we live today, the new age of highly expensive television advertising will move away from the network ad immediately preceding the return of the show. Lord knows we already see enough of Kyra Sedgewick to not need a dose every time Law and Order comes back from commercial.

Apparently, there’s this guy named Sanford Wallace. He is the “Spam King”. Which has to be like the third or fourth shoddiest nickname in the history of the world. (None of the worse ones come to mind right now, but feel free to point them out.) Anyway, Wallace’s “thing” is to spam people.

And he is that asshole behind all of your friends posting lewd and/or annoying penile extension and ringtone messages on your myspace account. Now, besides the fact that all these people are absolute idiots for being dumb enough to click and then get their account taken over, he still causes a massive headache for Tom and the rest of the sweet, sweet winners at the Space. Not as big as Zuckerman dominating his face — pun intended — but still a huge pain in the ass.

So much so, that a court awarded Myspace $230 million, after Wallace and his partner, Wallace Rines, were no-shows in court.

According to court documents, Wallace and Rines distributed 735,925 messages during the scam and earned over $500,000 in the process. The spam campaign caused hundreds of complaints and a big headache for MySpace, especially since the spam indiscriminately sent pornography links to minors as well as adults.

The federal judge in the case fined the spam partners the maximum amount under the law. CAN-SPAM allows for fines of $100 per message and that number can be tripled for particularly abusive practices. The pair were fined $163.4 million under two parts of CAN-SPAM, Rines was singled out for an extra $63.4 million, $1.5 million was for violating California’s anti-phishing laws. Rines and Wallace were also ordered to pay another $4.7 million for incurred legal fees.

Go figure right? A high tech con artist named “The Spam King” (it’s like the internet version of “The Wiz” from Seinfeld) doesn’t show up in court. Let us know when you start collecting that Tom: msypace.com/brahsomerulez4eva

Last week we brought you the story of Latarian Milton. He’s the 7 year-old, self proclaimed “hood rat” who stole his grandma’s ride and went cruising with his boy that smoked with cigarettes. Honestly, everyone here at ye ole blahg thought his antics were pretty, pretty, pretty awesome.

Well … 13 year-old Ralph Hardy from Texas kicked it up a notch.

The young brah ordered an extra copy of his old man’s credit card and, among other things, paid for two hookers to come to his motel room to play “Halo” with him and his boys.

According to the article, Ralph took his buddies on a $30,000 shopping spree, with the grand finale being an evening of getting nice with some ladies of the night in a motel room. The details are pretty damn funny.

Police said they were alerted to the motel by a concerned delivery clerk, whom after delivering supplies of Dr Pepper, Fritos and Oreos had been asked by the kids where they could score some chicks and were willing to pay. They explained they had just made a big score at a “World of Warcraft” tournament and wanted to get some relaxation. On noting the boys age the delivery clerk informed the authorities.

When police arrived at the motel they found $3,000 in cash, numerous electronic gadgets, an Xbox video console with numerous games, and the two local escort girls.

Jebus. Where to start on how incredible these kids are…Having Dr. Pepper, Fritos and Oreos delivered to the room? Claiming your funds were from a “World of Warcraft” tournament? Asking the delivery guy where to score some strange because you’re looking to relax after the big tournament? These kids are just awesome. And creative as hell, too.

When the two ladies of the night questioned their age, the kids told them, “they were people of restricted growth working with a traveling circus, and as State law does not allow those with disabilities to be discriminated against they had no right to refuse them.”

Citing State discrimination laws when convincing a hooker to come to your room?!

Well played, Ralph Hardy, well played.

The entire Phillies team, manager, general manager, media and possibly even the Phanatic are in on this dogpile of Kendrick where they trick him into thinking he’s headed to Japan in a trade. Way to be, Brett Myers. If it were us, we’d be so pissed we’d probably punch/strangle you.