Know What I'm Sayin'??

SpeedRant!

noreply@blogger.com (Mau) — Fri, 21 Aug 2009 16:31:00 +0000

I don't have much time, but I have a few comments about New Jersey/New York.

How can a state that is ETERNALLY cloudy be known as the Garden State? We really need a better nickname, folkz.

"Twp" is a terrible abbreviation for "Township".

What the hell is a Township, anyway?

I know the real reason everybody takes the subway instead of driving. It's the roads. This place has the worst roads I have ever seen. Anything less than an F-150, and you're rockin' and rollin'.

I also may have figured out why this place looks some ramshackle to me. This is it: Land is expensive, so space is at a premium, and people want to make the most of their land. The result is a bunch of buildings right up against each other. In Atlanta, they're a lot more apt to put a little strip of green between themselves. The result here is that everything looks a bit disjointed.

Me to the Avis bus guy: "Can I have a map?"
ABG: "You'll have to get one at the gate on your way out."
Me to the Avis Gate Guy: "Can I have a map?"
AGG: "I don't have any. You'll have to get one at the office."

Sigh. Nevermind.

This rant sounded a bit more...ranty...last night when I was driving, but it was 1:something in the morning and I prioritized.

Twp IS a terrible abbreviation though.

Here’s a summary of something that you can smile about .

noreply@blogger.com (Mau) — Wed, 27 May 2009 20:29:00 +0000

I've been coming across songs that speak to me lately...

Smiley Face by Gnarls Barkley

But what did you do
What did you say
Oh did you walk or did you run away
Where are you now
Where have you been
Did you go alone or did you bring a friend

I need to know this
Cause I notice
You smiling
Out in the sun
Having fun
And Feeling free

And I can tell you know how hard this life can be
But you keep on smiling for me

So what went right
What went wrong
Was it a story or was it a song
Was it over night
Or did it take you long
Was knowing your weakness what made you strong

Or all the above
Oh how I love to see you smiling
An oh yeah
Take a little pain just incase

You need something warm to embrace
To help you put on a smilin face
Face
Smiley face

Don’t you go off into the new day with any doubt
Here’s a summary of something that you can smile about
Say for instance, my girlfriend, she bugs me all the time
But the irony of it all is that she loves me all the time
Oh see

I wanna be you whenever I see you smiling
Because its easily one of the hardest things to do
Your worries and fear become your friends
And they end up smiling at you
Put on a smiling face

Sing it, Brother.

noreply@blogger.com (Mau) — Sat, 23 May 2009 08:54:00 +0000

"Lean on Me", performed by Bill Withers

Sometimes in our lives we all have pain
We all have sorrow
But if we are wise
We know that there's always tomorrow

Lean on me, when you're not strong
And I'll be your friend
I'll help you carry on
For it won't be long
'Til I'm gonna need
Somebody to lean on

Please swallow your pride
If I have things you need to borrow
For no one can fill those of your needs
That you don't let show

Lean on me, when you're not strong
And I'll be your friend
I'll help you carry on
For it won't be long
'Til I'm gonna need
Somebody to lean on

If there is a load you have to bear
That you can't carry
I'm right up the road
I'll share your load
If you just call me

So just call on me brother, when you need a hand
We all need somebody to lean on
I just might have a problem that you'd understand
We all need somebody to lean on

Lean on me when you're not strong
And I'll be your friend
I'll help you carry on
For it won't be long
Till I'm gonna need
Somebody to lean on

Lean on me...

MY Mother's Day

noreply@blogger.com (Mau) — Mon, 11 May 2009 04:06:00 +0000

So today I was driving around, and thinking about Mother's Day.
I'm not really satisfied with it. At all.

A couple of reasons:

Why should I let society tell me when to recognize and celebrate my Mother?
What's so special about the second Sunday in May?
If I'm honoring my Mother on that day, then who's going to look after her Mother? Somebody is gonna get neglected at least a little bit.

So...in MY house, this is how we're gonna do it, and why:

Let's examine. Who is your Mother? The one who gave birth to you. Okay. So the center of it all is your birth. Okay. Well, your birthday is already celebrated, and it's all about you, not your Mother. In fact, many folkz DEMAND to be coddled and honored on their birthday, right? Do we usually pause on our birthday to say "Thank You" to our Mothers for bringing us into this world? No.

So this is what we're going to do, at least next year: We're gonna celebrate the day that Motherhood happened in our house. To not get in the way of standard birthday festivities, we're gonna celebrate Mother's day on the day BEFORE MiniMau's birthday.

We're gonna do flowers. Dinner. There WILL be a card.

Know what else? This year, on the day before MY birthday, I'm gonna call my Mother, and thank her for carrying me for those 9 months, and thank her for being cut from *here* to *here* for me. On the day before my wife's birthday, I'm going to call her Mother and thank her for giving birth to my wonderful wife. Get the picture?

For each friend who I'm close enough to remember their birthday, I'm close enough to recognize that that person wouldn't be my friend without their Mother.

Mother's Day.

Know What I'm Sayin'??

Not even in U.S. of A.

noreply@blogger.com (Mau) — Tue, 03 Mar 2009 20:47:00 +0000

You have got to be kidding me!

Here's the article, but a brief synopsis:

A Georgia Department of Natural Resources officer finds a pile of discarded household items on private property. (Unlawful dumping.) While he's going through the debris, he finds an envelope of U.S. Savings Bonds AND a Diamond Watch AND a very nice pair of earrings.

He also finds an old envelope with a name and address. He goes to the address and finds the home of George and Mary Morris. George has passed away, and Mary is in an assisted living facility. It appears that relatives are looking after the house and according to them, the Savings Bonds were thought lost when the house was burglarized. He gives the family the savings bonds, and makes it a point to give the diamond watch and earrings to Mrs. Morris himself.

My thing is this: The article doesn't address how the household items got there in the first place. It kinda implies that they could have been taking during the "burglary" but not really. You're telling me that if I put the envelope with my mother's nest egg in a trash bag, along with her antique diamond watch and her vintage earrings, and just leave it at some in-the-cut ranch, that I may get lucky enough that Officer Friendly here will find my "trash" and return it to me? Knock on my door and say "I'm here to serve, sir. You dropped this. Have a nice life."?

Hell naw. I'll say it: That kind of stuff just doesn't happen to Black people. Even in the AoO. (Age of Obama)

Know What I'm Sayin'??

YGtG 1: A Pimp Named...

noreply@blogger.com (Mau) — Mon, 16 Feb 2009 05:08:00 +0000

According to Blogger, I drafted this on 7/11/06. It's a post that I never quite finished. Who knows why? Whether you think it was going in a good direction or not, I felt pretty good about it at the time! Enjoy.

A while back, I mentioned that I was reading The Art of War by Sun Tzu, and that I'd be sharing my thoughts and such on the book.

I'm still going to do that, but before I do that, I'm going to start my own tome, The Art of Pimping, by Iceberg Slim.

I read Iceberg Slim's Pimp a few years ago. Chock full of sage words, I must say. I'll go back to that one and see what there is to learn from it. Right now I'm on The Naked Soul of Iceberg Slim. I will most probably renumber the rules in The Art of Pimping later, but for now, here you go:

1. Suffering is inevitable and necessary for an aspiring pimp, pickpocket or con man...
2. Sympathy is a counterfeit emotion for suckers which is usually offered with a crooked con grin of amused contempt and rejected with a spittled snarl.
3. All of the countless whores I have known and those I have controlled revealed a hunger for notoriety and for punishment, psychic or physical or both. The phony glamour and cruelty of the pimp fill these needs and are the magnets tht attract and hold the whore to the pimp.

You get the gist!

New Series Alert: You Get the Gist

noreply@blogger.com (Mau) — Mon, 16 Feb 2009 05:05:00 +0000

I realize that it's been a while since I've posted, and let's just say I've been busy. I'm not even going to apologize, because I've been legitimately busy, rather than simply slacking off.

At any rate, anyone who is disappointed at my lack of an apology is about to get even pissier. No really NEW content, but rather, old content that I never posted.

The "You Get the Gist" series will be posts that I started one day, and for some reason or another, never posted. You never know how they'll end. They may end coherently, or they may end in mid-sentence. Who knows.

Let's see how it goes.

Story: "What's that Sound?"

noreply@blogger.com (Mau) — Thu, 17 Jul 2008 02:55:00 +0000

So, a couple of weeks ago, Mrs. Mau and I took Mini Mau to see his Great-Grandmothers (That's all we have left.) Luckily, Mrs. Mau is from Augusta, GA, and my family is from North Augusta, SC (right across the state line, and the river), so we were able to kill two birds.

So, we're at my Grandmother's place. She lives in one of those apartment complexes for senior citizens? Right. One of those.

So, we're in there, and I hear this beep.

"What's that beep?" I say.

"What beep?" Says Grandma.

"I just heard a beep."
This is where it becomes a good story.

Grandma says: "Your mother was here a week or two ago, and she said she heard a beep, too. I ain't heard no beep."

Me: "Well, has anyone else heard it?"

"No. Ain't nobody else heard it."

A little background here. My father's family is from North Augusta, so that means that no less than FIVE of my aunts and uncles are probably back and forth through my Grandma's place on a regular basis. Perhaps even daily. And NONE of them have heard the beep.

So, during the time I'm there, I hear the beep several more times, and each time, I mention it. Maybe 15 minutes between beeps. My wife could hear it. My aunt that came by during our visit - couldn't hear it.

Epilogue

So...a week or two later, my parents, or maybe just my Mom, visit us.

My Mom says to me: "You heard that beeping at your Grandmother's house?"

"Yeah! I heard it a few times! Grandma said that you could hear it too. I was busy with Mini Mau, so I couldn't really look around for it, but it sounded like it was coming from the corner. Maybe even from next door."

This is what my mother tells me: Apparently, after both I AND my mother heard beeping, she decided there just might be something amiss. She called maintenance. The maintenance guy came. HE heard the beeping.

Okay, the beeping sounded like it was coming from right around her favorite spot to sit. Maybe even coming from somewhere on my Grandma. Now to eliminate possibilities. They took my grandmother outside. Still heard the beeping inside. Okay. One possibility eliminated.

Okay. Eliminate more. They cut the power to her unit. Still heard the beeping.

Still 15-20 minutes between beeps. So at this point, I'm thinking they were at it for the better part of the day.

Turns out that the beeping was coming from a prescription bottle. The beeping is to remind my grandmother to take her medication. Not to say that the pharmacist, or the physician didn't explain the bottle properly, but my grandmother is 95 years old! When it was all said and done, she seemed to remember the doctor mentioning something about a timer on the bottle, but that little 30 second tutorial clearly wasn't enough.

I'm glad I got my hearing from my mother's side of the family.

Know What I'm Sayin'??

R.I.F.: Shibboleth

noreply@blogger.com (Mau) — Fri, 04 Jul 2008 02:19:00 +0000

Reading is Fundamental

I like to think that I'm a pretty bright M.F. One thing I think has helped with that is that I read a lot. More importantly, I read a lot during the formative years. A great side-affect of all that reading is that I've got a pretty decent vocabulary. It's not often that I come across a word I don't know, or at least can't comfortably figure out via context clues.

Well, today I was stumped, ladies and gentlemen.

I was reading this post on the Ideafestival website. The post talks about a magazine article, which discusses a book that submits a theory about video games being engaging, engrossing, entertaining, and perhaps even intellectual because they force players to solve complex logic and reasoning problems and players may even end up employing the scientific method in their quest to complete a game...rather than just being a mindless slack-jawed waste of time. It's a pretty decent read.

BUT, that's not the point. The point is that this quote from the magazine article:

Since the publication [of Everything Bad is Good for You] in 2005, [Steven] Johnson's argument in favour of what he labels the "Sleeper curve"—the steadily increasing intellectual sophistication of modern popular culture—has become something of a shibboleth for futurologists.

Like I said...stumped me.

What does "shibboleth" mean?

Well, we all know what I did next, right?

So, a shibboleth is something that a certain group of folks LOVES to talk about - that in the long run either doesn't mean anything or doesn't mean anything to any other groups of people, or both.

Like people who went to North Carolina A&T and this whole "Aggie Pride" thing, or George Bush supporters and the idea of his administration somehow being a good thing for this country.

Know What I'm Sayin'??

This kid's gonna be a star.

noreply@blogger.com (Mau) — Sat, 21 Jun 2008 04:43:00 +0000

Just you wait.

If anyone would like to put his picture in a magazine or a feature him in a commercial or a major motion picture, drop me a line at mau (at) imsayin.com.

I dub thee: Mini Mau.

"I woulda taken the money." aka "Sheer Obstinance"

noreply@blogger.com (Mau) — Sat, 21 Jun 2008 04:19:00 +0000

But Edith Macefield is(was) not me.

Edith was the sole holdout who refused to sell her house in a blue-collar neighborhood in Seattle.

Even when AlL of her neighbors moved away, she stayed.

Even as new construction and "progress" brought luxurious condominiums and fancy restaurants, she stayed.

Even as the construction company built the walls of a parking deck around her house, mere feet from her windows, she stayed. Looks like they even cut her poor tree.

Even when they offered her $1 million, she stayed.

Yup. $1 MILLION. 6 zeroes. Count em.

I mean, she coulda taken the money and found her a nice little condo, and bought herself a little Chevy Cobalt or something and let that old Cavalier go. I mean, at 86 years old, don't you owe yourself a comfortable ride? I had an ex who used to drive one of those, and they're pretty crappy. Lemme tell you.

Well, Edith has gone on now, and you gotta give her her props. She went out on her own terms.

I woulda taken the money. Know What I'm Sayin'??

My First Father's Day

noreply@blogger.com (Mau) — Mon, 16 Jun 2008 05:11:00 +0000

I realize that many, if not most, of the readers here don't actually know my name or have a great idea of what I look like besides the "About Me" photo, which is a pretty nice photo in all honesty. That's on purpose, right? After all, people know me, and sometimes I may not want my personal and relatively anonymous thoughts to intersect the people who know me. In some circles, I'm kind of a big deal.

At any rate. The point is, this blog is intentionally faceless and nameless (I do realize that the dogged researcher could find out more about me than just my name and picture).

That being said, I'm breaking my personal blog code, and posting a picture of myself, several actually. Below is a letter that "my son" wrote and gave to me (with Mrs. Mau's help). Printed up and framed.

This by far MADE Father's Day for me. One time for Mrs. Mau.

Happy Father's Day to all the Fathers out there. It's a great job to have, huh?

Know What I'm Sayin'??

I Live in Decatur 7: Just Married

noreply@blogger.com (Mau) — Wed, 11 Jun 2008 11:11:00 +0000

So yesterday, I'm riding along, and I come up to a stoplight. After a few moments, I glance into my rearview mirror, and I see writing on the windshield of the car behind me.

It says "Just Married 6/9/2008".

I think to myself "That's great. I support Black Love! I hope it lasts." Stuff like that.

Then...something registers on my internal "Oddness Meter".

I realize that it's 2008, and it's a free country, and anyone can pretty much do whatever they want with their personal lives, BUT...

Who gets married on a Monday?

Ladies and Gentlemen, I live in Decatur.

Know What I'm Sayin'??

Movie Review: The Golden Compass

noreply@blogger.com (Mau) — Mon, 02 Jun 2008 06:06:00 +0000

This movie was NOT GOOD.

Movie Review: Cleaner

noreply@blogger.com (Mau) — Mon, 02 Jun 2008 06:00:00 +0000

Cleaner has a pretty decent pedigree behind it:

Samuel L. Jackson
Ed Harris
Eva Mendes
Keke Palmer (Akeylah and the Bee)
Luis Guzman

That being said, the movie was...just okay. The story itself was decent and workable, but the performances by the actors were a bit stiff and forced.

I felt that in trying to develop the characters fully, the movie ended up giving background information on the characters that ended up doing very little to further the plot.

And that's all I have to say about that.

Confluence

noreply@blogger.com (Mau) — Tue, 20 May 2008 04:09:00 +0000

One thing about the whole pregnancy and deliery process that's been nagging me and that I've been itching to write about is the confluence of the traditional and the new, the superstitous and the scientific, LONG-believed and trusted methods and new medical methods.

It's really amazing to me that human beings have been having babies for thousands of years, but there is so much speculation and intuition to the whole process.

Also, in the hospital I experience the battling concepts of "Good" and "Bad" babies. Apparently, a baby who cries often is a "Bad" baby, and a baby that is generally quiet and agreeable is "Good". How can you label a newborn infant as bad, though? How? At least come up with a better term for that, huh?

I mean, the technological advancements are positively astounding:

Ultrasounds
3D Ultrasounds (the new hotness)
Sensors that detect the occurance and duration of contractions
Infrared heaters
New drugs
New ways of performing cesearian sections

But the superstitions:

If you raise your hands over your head during pregnancy then the cord will wrap around the baby's neck.
If you have heartburn, then the baby will be born with a lot of hair.
Babies sitting high or low or to the left or right in the belly indicating sex.

I'm not sure there's a huge point to all of this. I just found it all very interesting and slightly offputting.

The confluence.

Be Encouraged.

noreply@blogger.com (Mau) — Mon, 05 May 2008 00:42:00 +0000

I was talking with a friend of mine this weekend - about babies.

He expressed a sentiment that I'm certainly no stranger to. That being that it's a scary time to be bringing children into the world. Global warming. Droughts. Disease. Death. Destruction. War. Economics. Politics. Food recalls. All of a sudden even plastic is bad for you.

This is what I told him. (Not in these exact words, but you'll get the gist.)

Yes. Its scary. BUT looking down on a baby. A newborn baby. A new life, you can't help but to be encouraged. The sheer fact that you see these scary things in the world gives your new son or daughter an advantage because you can prepare him (or her) for what's out there.

I look down at my son, and I can't help but to wonder not just what he's going to be, but WHO he's going to be. WHAT he's going to do.

Everybody who has ever walked the earth, started out just like my little son. Can't speak. Can't understand what everyone is saying. Peeping. Pooping on himself. Crying for no reason at all. George Washington Carver. W.E.B. Dubois. Barack. The garbage man. The police officer. The local butcher. The people in your neighborhood. The best and worst of society. All of them started out exactly the same way.

A new baby is unmeasurable potential. The potential for what is up to us.

Know What I'm Sayin'??

Quaker vs. Aunt Jemima: It's a Draw!

noreply@blogger.com (Mau) — Mon, 05 May 2008 00:15:00 +0000

So, I was in the grocery store yesterday, and remembered we needed some grits. I head towards the grits aisle, and I reach for the Quaker Quick Grits. The same grits I always buy. The one with the white man on the front. Cool? Cool.

But wait. Right next to the Quaker Quick Grits are the Aunt Jemima Quick Grits. I notice - perhaps for the first time - that the packages are virtually identical. The only differences are that the packaging changes from blue to red, and the picture changes from the white man, to the black woman. Everything else stays the same. Even the picture of the food itself.

Me being me, I asked myself: What's the difference?

I compared ingredients. Exactly the same.

Price. The same.

Then I tried to think of any other situation where a manufacturer has two identical products in such similar yet different packaging, right next to each other. And could come up with none.

You know what this is?

It's an ole-fashioned "We got a bunch of people who were raised on this one, and a bunch of people who were raised on that one, and we don't want to lose any of 'em to Jim Dandy or somesuch so we best just leave it the way it's always been..." Situation. What clearly started out as a racial decision is now...What? A dated holdover at best. At worst, a stubborn refusal to evolve.

Some things change. Some stay the same.

It's a wonderful life!

noreply@blogger.com (Mau) — Fri, 11 Apr 2008 20:10:00 +0000

Good people!
I don't have much time, but wanted to post a couple of photos!

It truly IS a wonderful life! Know What I'm Sayin'??

Innovative Thinking

noreply@blogger.com (Mau) — Sat, 05 Apr 2008 02:43:00 +0000

I really like this one.

A consumer product design STUDENT (not professional) has come up with a novel and innovative solution to an old and constant problem.

Daniel Sheridan volunteered at a school on a Kenyan island last summer. While there, he was inspired by watching the children there. They played with such energy and vibrancy that he marveled at the thought of what could be done if that energy could somehow be harnessed.

He ruminated on the idea of harnessing the power of play for a while, and finally alit on the idea of playground equipment - the see-saw.

The see-saw he designed is wired to a storage unit. Just 5-10 minutes of see-sawing can generate enough energy to light a classroom for an entire evening. This could make a HUGE impact in many communities. Currently many schools in Africa open their doors to adults in the evening. Without electricity, the classrooms are lit with candles and kerosene lamps. Imagine the impact this could have.

I've toyed with a similar idea, myself. Only my idea isn't quite as sophisticated. I've imagined just setting a huge hamster wheel up behind the house and letting my child (or dog, or friend, or stranger, or anyone who needs exercise, for that matter) just get on there and go bananas. Like I said, a bit primitive compared to Daniel's see-saw.

Know What I'm Sayin'??

This is Not Good

noreply@blogger.com (Mau) — Thu, 03 Apr 2008 05:32:00 +0000

This is NOT a pity party. More of a ranting session.

So...this evening, I'm bopping down the stairs going to get my frozen pizza out of the oven, right? Okay. I'm pretty much at the bottom of the stairs, and all of a sudden, I'm on the floor, like 10 feet away.

I fell. It was nasty. It reminded me of a "yard sale" when you're skiing, only there were no skis involved.

What's more, my ankle hurt(s). Hurts like hell. My 9 months pregnant wife upstairs hears me fall. Of course, I HAVE yell up to her that I'm fine, but I'm really not. This isn't going to be pretty.

That was at 6something this evening. It's now after 1am. There is still lots of pain. And lots of swelling. I've got this knot about the size of a tennis ball on the outside of my ankle, and I'm pretty pissed about it.

I've got the guy that did this construction project in the house coming tomorrow to finish up, and I won't be able to help at all. This baby could be born any minute, and I can't even carry Mrs. Mau's bags to the car.

I'm wishing I had something a little stronger than Tylenol.

Not good. Not good at all. Mau is NOT happy. And I'm ALWAYS happy. But not now. Right now, I'm pissed. I'm crabby. Obstinate. Grumpy.

There you have it.

Just call me Mr. Grump Grumps.

Bah Humbug.

You know what I'm sayin'.

BabyWatch '08: An Update

noreply@blogger.com (Mau) — Sun, 30 Mar 2008 19:20:00 +0000

I have refrained and restrained myself from talking about the baby here too much, but here's an update:

My son will be here anytime now.
Anyday now.
ANYtime.
A.NY.TIME.

Everyone is on alert. Every time I call my mother or my brother, their first instinct is "It's time."

It's like that.

Anytime now.

Stay tuned.

Holla!

In the News: Food Products

noreply@blogger.com (Mau) — Mon, 24 Mar 2008 06:16:00 +0000

A couple of...interesting...stories in the news related to food.

First, this one.
Short version: A 28-year-old gets ticketed for speeding in Connecticut. The excuse he gave the trooper? He was in the midst of dunking an Oreo in a glass of milk, but actually dropped the Oreo into the milk. In the process of rescuing the flailing cookie, he lost control of the car.

This sounds a little too far-fetched to be a lie, but even if it were true, I wouldn't tell a police officer that. The dude received tickets for speeding, and for driving with a suspended license. No mention of a ticket for doing something stupid while driving like dunking cookies in milk.

Second, this story.
Short version: There's this "stuff" that they give some prisoners in some states called Nutraloaf. It's made of cubed whole wheat bread, nondairy cheese, raw carrots, spinach, seedless raisins, beans, vegetable oil, tomato paste, powdered milk and dehydrated potato flakes. Supposedly it's a "complete meal".

Nutraloaf is simply served a piece of plain paper. It is usually given to inmates who use their trays and flatware to throw their feces around (usually at people). Inmates say it is so bad, that there should be due process, including warnings, before they are served nutraloaf. They say it is a punishment. Some state governments have agreed with the inmates, putting structure around the circumstances under which nutraloaf is served. Sounds like punishment to me.

I can't make this stuff up, people.

Know What I'm Sayin'??

The Dirty (but Cultured) South

noreply@blogger.com (Mau) — Fri, 21 Mar 2008 23:14:00 +0000

Read this on ajc.com today.

The Atlanta Ballet is working on a collabo with Antwan "Big Boi" Patton called "Big".

The Atlanta Ballet's site says that Big Boi and other Purple Ribbon artists will be performing live, on-stage along with the dancers.

Hotness.

Know What I'm Sayin'??

I Still Live in Decatur

noreply@blogger.com (Mau) — Fri, 21 Mar 2008 04:24:00 +0000

By the way.

I don't know if y'all have been looking for more ILiD posts, or not, but rest assured, more are coming.

The Sun is starting to come out, and folkz in the ATL always get Spring Fever something fierce, so there should be no shortage of material.

Just wanted to let y'all know.

I'm also about to undertake a construction project here at the house. I'm seriously considering posting some before/during/after photos here, assuming I can get clearance from Mrs. Mau, so look for that.

Hope all is well with you and yours.

Holla!