Tribute to Turbo

You know that black guy named Turbo? Well you do now Sucka!!!

You know that black guy named Turbo?

"Hey you know that black guy named Turbo?"

"Turbo? Yeah he's a hot shit huh?"

"Yeah I guess.But whats the deal with that guy?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know, like with the way he always does the robot. And then he starts breakdancing."

"Oh yeah. Isn't that awesome? Turbo can fuckin' breakdance his ass off. And when he does the robot it's like the real thing. Hey Tommy remember that time Turbo was breakdancin' in front of the strobe light and everybody thought he was really a breakdancin' robot?"

"That was fuckin' awesome.Turbo can move huh? He's a hot shit man."

"Well that's the other thing. I mean, why does he bring a bag of lighting equipment with him everywhere he goes?"

"Adds to the effect. When he's breakdancin' that is."

"Breakin'...That's what Turbo calls it. That's why he works all that overtime. He's saving up for a set of lasers. One green, one gold.It's gonna be awesome."

"It's gonna be pisser."

"But why does he dress like that?"

"Like what?"

"You know what I mean. Why's he always wearing silver? I mean everyday all his clothes are silver. From his jacket with the puffy shoulders to his silver leather pants. And those silver moon boots. Everyday he dresses like that."

"Does he really? I never really noticed. What a hot shit."

"And then theres his haircut. He's got a tilted flat top like Bobby Brown had in 1989. The guys like 58, he pretends to be a breakdancing robot, and he works in the kitchen of a nursing home. I just don't get it."

"What's not to get. He's Turbo. He's a hot shit."

"I don't know. I think he's kind of a weirdo."

"Woa buddy. You got a problem with Turbo?!?"

"That's fucked up man. Turbo's a hot shit!"

"No I don't got a problem with him. It's just that we're all here workin' in this nursing home kitchen, and this older dude named Turbo busts in and starts breakdancing..."

"Breakin'....Turbo calls it breakin'."

"Whatever. I just think the guys a little weird that's all."

Just then the double doors to the kitchen burst open and a strobe light comes sliding across the floor,snapping into place as it's powercord reached it's end. A strobe light was then followed by an old boombox playing Run DMC's rendition of 'Walk This Way'. Turbo makes his grand entrance, wearing all silver as usual, doing a moonwalk that would put Michael Jackson circa 1983 to shame. As the classic Joe Perry riff fills the room with excitement, Turbo trumps it all by going into his robot. Sliding down to the ground, he gracefully rolls a windmill into a backspin which seems to last a full minute. He then jumps back to his feet and goes back into the robot waving at the three men in front of him. 2 watch with amazement. 1 watches with confusion. Turbo then leaps in the air and wipes the look of confusion off his co-workers face with a fierce roundhouse kick to the jaw. The mighty Turbo then stands over his co-worker, who is now laid out on the floor, and contiues to wave like a robot. Then, without even turning around, Turbo simply moonwalks back out of the room.

"You had that coming to you."

"No shit. Turbo's got ears like a hawk man. He don't take no shit either."

"He used to teach Karate to the Black Panthers."

"Turbo's a hot shit man."

the 3 things you need to know to get into heaven

In a celestial environment where the color of pure white surrounds you, embraces you, empowers you, and enlightens you, we see St. Peter, the keeper of the glorious golden gate to heaven. He sits modestly at his well finished oak desk which holds only an enormous book with gold leaf pages upon it's edges. He writes using a simple quill feather which he dips into a bottle of black ink.

Before him stands a line of the freshly departed who now stand to await their eternal fate. Some feel the loss of the live they have just been relieved of. Others feel grateful at the thought of meeting their heavenly father. But all feel the burdon of the judgement they face from St. Peter.

Sometimes the line can be thousands long, but on this particular date, it is short, and it is moving quickly. George Russo and his wife Brenda stand last in the line, and are quite pleased to hear word coming from the front that there are only 3 questions to answer to get by St. Peter.

"Oh George, can you believe it? We're really going to heaven." decalared Brenda

"I know it Brenda, isn't it just wonderful?." exclaims George

"Look George theres a woman coming to join us in the line."

"Wait til we tell her she only has to answer 3 questions and she'll soon be in Heaven.She'll be delighted."

Cheryl Kudlacik comes walking up behind George and Brenda. She is wearing dark, oversized sunglasses, and is carrying an extra large Dunkin Donuts iced coffee. Cheryl is greeted warmly by George and Brenda.

"Well hello new friend. Welcome to the line to heaven. I'm Brenda and this is my husband George"

"Oh you gotta be fuckin' kidding me."

"Excuse me?"

"Did my son-in law put you up to this? He did, didn't he?! That MOTHA-FUCKA. He's a fuckin sick bastard man, seriously he's fuckin nuts!! I don't know how he comes up with this shit but this one was fuckin good!!"she states while speaking through a chuckle.

"No I'm afraid my wife is telling you the truth. We've all passed on. And now we're waiting to meet with St. Peter who will decide our fate. But don't worry,we're told he is only asking 3 questions of all of us, and then we can pass."

The line continues moving, and the anticipation grows among those who wait for their meeting with destiny. A beuatiful angel with flowing blonde hair dressed in a pure white gown begins making her way through the line, greeting and comforting everyone.

"Hello Cheryl. Welcome to the gates of heaven. It won't be much longer, and you should be inside in no time at all. But in the meantime is there anything I can get you to make your wait more comfortable."

"Yeah how 'bout a lawn chair."

"Umm, I don't know if we have any lawn chairs out here. Let me check on that."

"Well can I at least SMOKE?!?!"

"Of course you can smoke silly. This is Heaven, not America. Newport box right?"

The angel makes a pack of Newport box appear into thin air, and a fresh cigarette appears between Cheryl's lips and lights itself up.

"Oh you are good!! I mean you are really fucking good!! Wait I tell my sister Debbie about this. Well I can't really. I'll have to send her a sign. Maybe I'll light make her Virginia Slims light on their own while she's watching CSI on the fuckin couch. Ha Ha, oh man. Hey can you hit my brother with a lightning bolt? Actually don't do that, I finally got the fuck away from the mothafucker. Make sure he's not at my funeral!!"

"I'm sorry Cheryl, we angels can't control what people do while they're still on Earth."

"George Russo" Calls out St. Peter in a stern voice. Cheryl now realizes she is nearing the front of the line, as Brenda looks back and gives her a smile.

"Yes St. Peter, I am ready."says George as he approaches the desk.

"Yeah, Yeah, Yeah. Look heres the drill. 3 questions. Answer 'em right your in. Answer 'em wrong I gotta give ya the 86." St. Peter looks up at George and motions his thumb over his shoulder to stress that he has to 86 the poor souls who answer incorrectly.

"Question 1. What did you do to help your fellow mankind?"

"Well I served in the Piece Corps for 8 years, and I helped a village in Southeast Asia create a sustainable source of drinking water. It was quite effective actually."

"Question 2. How were you able to treat others the way you wanted to be treated?"

"Well for starters I always gave everyone I met to a gracious smile and a how do you do."

"Alrighty. Question 3. Who sang Green Eyed Lady?"

"Umm. I'm sorry?"

"Green Eyed Lady. Who sang it"

"I don't want to come across the wrong way, but what does that have to do with anything?"

St. Peter looks into the large book and puts on his reading glasses.

"Mr. Russo, I'm showing that you have heard the song Green Eyed Lady over 19,000 times in your lifetime. Now God did give you a brain which was capable of paying attention to the world around you and appreciating all the glorious creations of your fellow man, one of which being the song Green Eyed Lady. Now I'll ask you one more time....who sang the song?"

"Ahh..Ahhh.."

"I need an answer."

"Supertramp" George blurted out incorrectly, and the ground beneath opened up and swallowed him swiftly and whole.

"Brenda Russo." ordered St. Peter, calm as ever.

"Oh my God! George! What happened to him" she cries out hysterically through her tears.

"Don't worry Mrs. Russo, he got 2 out of 3 which means he only got 900 years in Purgatory. He'll be fine. Now I'm sure you know the drill 3 questions, bada-bing bada-boom and we're done. Question 1. What did you do to help your fellow mankind?"

still hysterical Brenda attempts to pull herself together" Well, well I don't know...I was in the peace corps with George."

"Whatever... the Peace Corps. Like I haven't been hearing that all day. Question 2. How were you able to treat others the way you fealt you wanted to be treated?"

"I was a very curteous person. I had good manners, always, I swear."

"Right-O and who sang Green Eyed Lady?"

"I...I...I don't know"

"Need an answer."

"The...The...The Commodores."

The ground opened up and Mrs Russo was quickly on her way to join Mr. Russo.

"Cheryl Kudlacik"

Cheryl steps up to the desk and puts her cigarette butt out on the floor.

"Alright St. Peter lets go. I want in that fuckin gate,"

"OK Cheryl. Question 1. What did you do to help your fellow mankind"

"Well I worked with the elderly and I feel I always took the extra step for them."

"Good. Good. Question 2. How were you able to treat others the way you wanted to be treated?"

"I feel I was a very generous person."

"That's great. And who sang Green Eyed Lady?"

"Well I know it wasn't the fuckin Commodores."

"Good answer. I like your spunk. I tell you what. I'm gonna send you back. And when you get there I want you to take some enjoyment in the creative work of others because it's an importact part of life. And the next time I see you, you damnwell better know who sang Green Eyed Lady. Or I'll 86 ya."

St. Peter snapped his fingers and Cheryl found herself laid out on the floor of a Dunkin Donuts in Warwick RI surrounded by EMT's. The song Green Eyed Lady was playing softly on the radio. She began responding and the crowd hovering around her applauded.

Over the next few months Cheryl took a deeper appreciation in life than she ever had before. She spent a lot of time listening to music, and she was generally grateful for not only her life but of the lives of her loved ones.

Shortly after that her son in law became gravely ill. He very quickly found himself in a hospital bed sharing his final moments surrounded by his closest friends and family. He was looking around and just as he noticed his mother in law had not arrived, she burst throught the door and ran to his side.

"Bill theres something very important you need to know!!" She said to him. "Listen to me Bill. Sugarloaf sang Green Eyed Lady. Did you hear me? Bill, Sugarloaf sang Green Eyed Lady."

Bills gathering of loved ones looked confused and bewildered. Bill took off his oxygen mask and motioned Cheryl to come closer so he could speak to her, and with his final breath he said to her;

"What the fuck is wrong with you."

Penpal Letters From C. Everett Koop

In 1986, I was a 4th grader attending John F. Kennedy Elementary School in Blackstone, MA. Our teacher had assigned us the task of writing a letter to any member of the U.S. Government. In this letter we had to explain why we chose to write to them.We also had to ask them a question about themselves, and include a post script.

Most kids in my class chose to write to President Reagan. I wrote my letter to Surgeon General C. Everett Koop.

I only wrote to the Surgeon General once, and in return, I received at least two letters per month for the next 21 years. I have decided to publish our one-sided correspondence in a segment I call:

PENPAL LETTERS FROM C. EVERETT KOOP.

The following was the first and only letter I wrote to the Surgeon General:


October 9, 1986

Dear Mr. Koop,

My name is Jeremy. I am 9 years old. I live in Blackstone. I chose to write to you because you don't want kids to smoke. Danny Rockwell smokes. He's bad. He is in the 7th grade. He ruined my fort. What does the C. in your name stand for?

Do you like the Celtics? When I grow up I want to be on the Celtics. Why do you wear Navy clothes? My uncle Pete is in the Navy. My grandfather was in the Navy.My cousin Scotty might join the Navy. My Dad was not in the Navy.

Your Friend,
Jeremy

P.S. What does the C. in your name stand for?


The following was the first letter I recieved from C. Everett Koop:

October 11, 1986

Dear Jeremy,

I am delighted that you chose to write to me. I can't tell you how glad I am to hear that there's at least one kid smart enough to listen to this old fool from the sea. But seriously Jeremy, promise me you'll never smoke. Promise me!!!

And as far as that scumbag Danny Rockwell goes, you're right! If he smokes he is bad. And he damn well better stay the hell away from my new friend Jeremy. If not I'll pick him right up by his fuckin' throat with one hand and say 'listen punk, when you fuck with a navy man's buddy, you're fuckin' with the whole damn Navy.' And then I'll say 'whats the matter sissy... can't breathe? Hey, you're the smoker. Buy the ticket take the ride bitch'. Then I'll drop his ass. What you don't think I can do it?!?! I might be old, but you can't take the tough out of a Navy man!

Hey don't worry about that fort, man. I'm pretty handy, and I have a lot of tools. I'll fix it up for you. Make it better even.

I gotta admit it feels good to have a penpal again, buddy. It takes me back to my younger days. When I was at sea a lot of times, all I had to keep me going was a good lettter. Otherwise I'd go stir crazy and start fights. I broke this one fellers leg this one time, with this giant monkey wrench. He wasn't doing nothing wrong, I was just walking by him, and I guess he was a plumber onboard, and well, you know how it is when you see a big wrench. That's why it's good to have letters. Keeps the Koop out of trouble.

I used to get these HOT letters from this one gal named Louise Parker. Boy was she flexible. She was from New Orleans. I'd swing by to see her every now and then until she started saying that her daughter was mine. Buncha' horseshit. Kid didn't look nothing like me. And besides, the year that kid was born, I only went to see her once, and I brought this buddy of mine from the tatto parlor with me, and well, nevermind Jeremy. The point is, that kid aint mine. For Christsakes Jeremy, there's a roll of 8mm film floating around out there that can prove it.

Hey man, it was really great hearing from you, and keep those letters coming buddy. Like I say they keep the Koop out of trouble. And, oh yeah, the C. in my name stands for Cool.

Your Pal,
Cool Everett Koop