Now with Healthcare undersiege by republican dogs, a crazy president in the white house, and constant rumours of possible war their gonna fill the news with some cheatin' quarterbacks story about his missing jersey? He has money to buy thousands of the things but he wants to whine like an overgrown baby about his stupid jersey? He just wants everyone to forget that he's a cheater. Let him know when the chance comes for me, he will be fined $100 million dollars for cheating. He can have his stupid shirt back for free.
Super Bowl 51 jersey has been found in possession of a member of the international media in Mexico
The NFL announced
that Tom Brady's Super Bowl 51 jersey has been found, in addition to
his Super Bowl 49 jersey, thanks to the help of the NFL security
department, FBI, Texas Rangers, and Houston Police Department.
According to the NFL's statement, the jerseys were found in possession of a credentialed member of the international media. The Statesman reports that the jersey was found in Mexico, thanks to the help of Mexican authorities.
After two boxing world titles, prison and bankruptcy, Mr. Bowe hopes to cement another legacy: as a restaurateur.
Three
men stood on a street in Harlem, handing out fliers and pointing to a
big man sitting alone inside a small restaurant with four tables called
Bowe’s. He looked around, eager for company.
“That’s the two-time heavyweight champion of the world,” they told pedestrians on West 116th Street. “That’s Riddick Bowe.”
“Say hello to the champ,” one of them said. “Go inside.”
Riddick
“Big Daddy” Bowe, as booming ringside announcers once introduced him at
fights, towered above Harlemites entering to meet him. He signed
autographs on takeout menus. He posed for photos. He threw jabs into the
air.
A woman applied lip gloss with a pocket mirror while waiting to take a selfie with him. She was shocked when he stood up.
Kitchen
workers prepared rotisserie chickens, and juice blenders rattled as
screens in the small seating area flashed decades-old images of Mr. Bowe
devastating his opponents. His dismantling uppercut into Evander
Holyfield’s chin, in Las Vegas in 1992, appeared several times. A
punching bag hung in a corner for decoration. The sign outside displayed
a muscular and glistening Mr. Bowe in his prime with a title belt
draped over his shoulder, and the name of his place, Bowe’s.
A
visitor to the restaurant asked Mr. Bowe, who is now 47, to see the big
ring glistening on his hand. He received it in June when he was
inducted into the International Boxing Hall of Fame.
“I don’t take it off much,” he said, squeezing it down his finger.
A store manager jostled him. “You showed it to me this morning, Bowe.”
Mr. Bowe smiled. “I guess I did.”
Bowe’s
is a narrow establishment on 116th Street and Frederick Douglass
Boulevard that sells rotisserie chicken and fresh juices. It is discreet
enough that you could walk right past it. It is also the latest stop
for Riddick Bowe, the two-time former world champion heavyweight boxer,
who has struggled with life after boxing since he retired from the sport
in 1996.
Photo
Mr. Bowe in 1992, after he defeated Evander Holyfield for the heavyweight title in Las Vegas.Credit
Holly Stein
He
is the restaurant’s face, its theme and one of its owners. Meals are
named after him, and he stops by at least twice a month for
meet-and-greet sessions.
He
owns the restaurant with his fast-talking manager, Ashley Khan, and
they hope the Harlem storefront, which opened in March, will be the
foundation for a chain. Another location is planned farther uptown, as
well as one in the Bronx.
“We
have big plans,” Mr. Khan said. “I’m hoping he can dress up like Santa
Claus for Christmas and hand out turkeys. I want to make a special Bowe
juicer. It could be like the George Foreman grill.”
If
starting a hole-in-the-wall juice-and-rotisserie-chicken franchise
seems like a comedown for a boxer who earned over $80 million, then Mr.
Bowe’s last decade is worth considering: a vortex of misfortune that
included bankruptcy, failed comebacks and incarceration. The restaurant
is a welcome turn of events.
“I’m hoping it will take off,” Mr. Bowe said.
The
post-career path of boxing’s champions is frequently distant from the
glories of the ring, and Mr. Bowe’s life has been a sequence of detours
since his pinnacle as one of the heavyweight division’s titans in the
early 1990s.
He
secured his place in boxing history in 1992, when he was 25, by beating
the heavyweight titleholder, Mr. Holyfield, in a violent tug-of-war
that lasted 12 rounds. It commenced an epic trilogy of bouts between the
men that became one of boxing’s famed rivalries.
When
Mr. Bowe first held his title belt aloft, his bleak childhood in
Brownsville, Brooklyn, must have felt incomprehensibly far away. He had
grown up with 12 siblings, down the street from Mike Tyson, in an
infamous housing complex where he said finding dead bodies on the street
in the morning was commonplace. He escaped by finding a vocation at a
boxing gym and soon emerged as one of New York’s finest fighters,
winning four Golden Gloves tournaments. He represented the United States
at the 1988 summer Olympics in Seoul, losing to Lennox Lewis and taking
home the silver medal.
Some
believed that Mr. Bowe, who fought in a golden era of heavyweights, had
the potential to be a once-in-a-lifetime kind of fighter: an heir to
Muhammad Ali. Eddie Futch, the famed trainer who instructed Joe Louis
and Larry Holmes, took on Mr. Bowe, seeing such promise.
“With his natural tools,” Mr. Futch said of Mr. Bowe in the early ’90s, “he could be the best heavyweight I’ve ever had.”
Mr. Bowe greeted fans outside the housing project where he grew up in Brownsville, Brooklyn.Credit
Christopher Lee for The New York Times
But
Mr. Bowe’s legacy has become emblematic of how cruel boxing can be, and
how far its champions can fall. His career after he defeated Mr.
Holyfield is remembered as a descent into the trappings of wealth and a
crumbling of discipline.
“Bowe
had a curse,” said Ron Borges, a sports columnist for The Boston
Herald. “And that was he had no second dream. When he won the title, he
had nothing else he wanted to do. He wanted to be the heavyweight
champion, and he got it.”
Boxing
fans awaited another masterpiece like the Holyfield bout but were
treated to a procession of lesser opponents. The most anticipated fight,
against Mr. Lewis, never happened — some attribute that to fear on Mr.
Bowe’s part, others to mismanagement. After defeating Andrew Golota, a
Pole who won the bronze medal in Seoul, in two fights best remembered
for their brutality and Mr. Golota’s disqualification for low blows, Mr.
Bowe quit boxing at 29.
When
he retired, Mr. Bowe was worth $15 million, he has said, and he spent
it amply: on 10 houses, 26 cars, furs and diamonds, and accommodations
and monthly allowances for his large family. The millennium, however,
would bring bankruptcy, an expensive divorce, a comeback attempt and 18
months in prison for abduction and domestic violence. His fighter’s
physique also left him, as did his smooth voice, warped into slur,
probably as a result of blows in the ring. “I hate hearing my voice on
the radio,” he recently said.
Since
filing for bankruptcy in 2005, Mr. Bowe has tried becoming a trucker,
taught exercise classes, sold signed memorabilia at conventions and
reinvented himself as a Muay Thai kickboxer. His one match, in Thailand
to a Russian opponent 15 years his junior, lasted only two rounds. He lost.
“I don’t have as much money as I used to, but I’m fine,” he said.
“If people want to help, they can send money to the Riddick Bowe Better Life Foundation,” he said wryly.
Though
his fortune has dissipated, Mr. Bowe said he earns enough from public
appearances and has three homes: one in New York, one in New Jersey and
one in Florida, where he spends most of his time with his wife and
daughter.
But
he enjoys going to Harlem and says he has been seriously considering
moving back to New York, where his path to the heavyweight throne began.
When examined at its roots, Mr. Bowe’s legacy as one of boxing’s casualties can seem unfair.
He
was born Riddick Lamonte Bowe in 1968 in East New York, Brooklyn, the
12th of 13 children, to Dorothy Bowe. His father was practically
invisible.
A photo of Mr. Bowe form his fighting days hangs at a Brownsville pizzeria.Credit
Christopher Lee for The New York Times
His
mother moved her children across the borough in a constant search for
cheaper rent — Coney Island, Bushwick, Bedford-Stuyvesant — but Mr. Bowe
would spend his formative years in Brownsville, at 250 Lott Avenue in a
bleak housing complex nicknamed Gunsmoke City for the frequency of
gunfights.
The
teenage Riddick didn’t slide into vice and dwelled instead within walls
of discipline. He trained at a gym in Bedford-Stuyvesant after school
every day. He was only the second child in his family to graduate from
high school. With his imposing size, he protected his mother, walking
her to her job at a plastics factory every night.
But
while Mr. Bowe managed to avoid being swallowed by neighborhood
violence, his siblings did not. His sister Brenda was murdered when he
was 18. His brother Darryl was stabbed in the chest in front of a fruit
stand near their high school. Another brother, Henry, was in and out of
jail and later died of AIDS.
“It was survival of the fittest,” Mr. Bowe said.
Being virtually the last in line in such a large family, he said, influenced him as a boxer as much as anything else.
“I
had to fight to put my socks on,” he said. “That’s why I’m a great
fighter. My brothers and sisters didn’t realize they were creating a
monster. And then that monster made it to the Hall of Fame.”
“You
need to have that killer instinct,” he added. “It can’t be taught.
Where does it come from? A couple slaps. A couple things you had denied
to you.”
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He
doesn’t speak with his family anymore, however, and partly blames them
for his financial woes. He carried them out of Brownsville, he said, and
bought houses for them near his own home at the time in Fort
Washington, Md. He paid their taxes and provided allowances, but he
believes that he came to be perceived as little more than a breathing
bank account.
“They tore those houses up,” he said. “They don’t love me. They can’t love me.”
“I
don’t speak with my mother,” he said. “Whenever I wanted to talk about
my problems, she would just ask me when I was going to send her more
money.”
“I’ve cried many a day and many a night,” he concluded, “but things happen how they happen.”
The ring given to Mr. Bowe in June when he was inducted into the International Boxing Hall of Fame.Credit
Chang W. Lee/The New York Times
During
Mr. Bowe’s recent stay in New York, he agreed to take me on a tour of
his old neighborhood. He hadn’t visited East New York or Brownsville in
over 10 years.
The
last time he entered Thomas Jefferson High School was in 1992, after
wresting the title from Mr. Holyfield. He pulled up in a limousine to
show off his belt, give a speech and hug his favorite teachers. This
time, he arrived via Uber, and summer hours were in session. But as he
lumbered toward the sleepy school, two men in a van noticed him and
yelled out from their window: “It’s the champ!”
His celebrity grew inside. Security guards rushed to take photos.
“That’s right,” said Mr. Bowe. “The champ is here.”
“You look different,” said a guard.
“You’re saying I look fat in a nice way,” he replied.
Mr.
Bowe was disappointed to learn that the school had not erected a plaque
in his honor, but perhaps none was needed. He was stopped constantly
during walks around the area. Within four hours, at least 50 people had
taken selfies with him.
He
was swarmed again at his old gym, now called the New Bed-Stuy Boxing
Center, and was pleased to discover a mural of him was painted on a
wall. People asked how things were going.
“I’m just rolling with the punches,” he said. “You know how the old fighters do.”
His phone rang.
“World’s finest,” he answered. “Big Daddy. Be brief.”
An
amateur promoter was calling, hoping to sell him on “one last fight.”
Mr. Bowe seemed fatigued by the idea and put the call on speakerphone.
“You
get paid for public appearances right now,” the voice crackled. “But
your name is starting to fade. Those public appearances will be worth
half of what they are. I am proposing a fight that would be a publicity
stunt to bring your name back. I am not a money train. I am not saying
this is a golden ticket. This isn’t a long-term contract ...” The voice
trailed off.
Mr. Bowe politely ended the conversation. “I get calls like this all the time,” he said.
He
is accustomed to people wanting things from him. We stopped earlier at
his old housing project, the notorious Gunsmoke City. Initially, he was
reluctant to leave the car.
Photo
Mr. Bowe on a visit to Thomas Jefferson High School, his alma mater, where he posed for at least 50 photos.Credit
Christopher Lee for The New York Times
“I’m not getting out,” he said. “I thought we were just going to pass by.”
We
approached its entrance, which was patrolled by police officers, and
entered a desolate courtyard. Slim, shirtless men with sagging pants
perched against handrails and watched him. Groups of women smoking
turned their heads. One lone man, a bit unsteady and drinking from a
plastic cup, called out his name first.
“It’s Riddick Bowe!”
Mr.
Bowe again became a center of attention. People spoke of how he once
purchased cable for them, how they had helped him with homework and how
they had not seen him in so long.
“Remember all we used to eat was rib tips and fried rice?” asked Keefe Nimmons, an old friend.
Acquaintances
eventually began asking Mr. Bowe why they had not heard from him; a few
men asked if he could lend them money. Mr. Bowe left the courtyard, but
about a dozen people followed him outside.
“You’ve got a lot of people venting here,” Mr. Nimmons told me. “They think they’re owed something.”
As
Mr. Bowe waited for a car, one woman who had pursued him grew agitated.
“My mom took care of him!” she yelled. “He didn’t give us nothing! I’m
going to get some publicity off of this. I’m going to tell the real
story!”
She screamed after him when a car finally arrived: “Give me some damn money this time!”
Mr. Bowe was reflective during the ride. “Everybody wants to get paid,” he said.
“They
hate you,” he mused. “You come and go, and they’re still here. They’re
frustrated you made something of yourself. But I don’t hold it against
them.”
It must have gnawed at him. He called me the next day to vent.
“I
still can’t believe that one guy,” he said. “He asked me where his
money was. I did the hard work. I made something of myself. I deserve
what I made. That’s why I don’t like going back to Brownsville.”
When
Mr. Bowe is at his juice shop, however, he is treated as nothing less
than the champ, and the other day his most pressing concern was the
preparation of his chicken wrap.
Outside of Bowe's, a restaurant on 116th Street and Frederick Douglass Boulevard that Mr. Bowe co-owns with his manager.Credit
Chang W. Lee/The New York Times
“You make this?” he asked a young server. She nodded. “It doesn’t have the sauce how I like it.”
She rushed to the kitchen and brought it back slathered with hot sauce. “You’re all right,” he told her. “You go, girl.”
Later, a woman asked if she could eat with him.
“Share a table with the champ?” he said. “Sure.”
“Want to go a couple of rounds?” he asked one man. “You got a nice smile. Let’s get rid of it.”
More
admirers appeared soon enough, and they didn’t ask prickly questions,
or ask for money as repayment for homework help three decades ago, but
inquired instead about what it was like wearing the heavyweight crown.
And Mr. Bowe seemed content to relive the moments they asked about
rather than dwell on the jagged turns of his past.
Perhaps conclusions about his boxing legacy were best left to his fans.
Dirk Eduardo Bobbit, who could recall Mr. Bowe’s fights by date, refused to accept the narrative of the fallen prizefighter.
“The future is going to be bright for him here,” Mr. Bobbit said. “Riddick Bowe has found peace in Harlem.”
William Ponder, who had pointed Mr. Bowe out to his daughter with excitement, said history was harsh to the boxer.
“The
problem is that people are only judged by their failures,” he said. “We
only look at what went wrong. But Mr. Bowe is a winner. And his chicken
is good.”
Chuck Berry performing Johnny B. Goode at the John F. Kennedy Presidential Library and Museum in Boston in 2012 - AP
Rock and roll legend Chuck Berry died on Saturday at the age of 90.
Tributes
from across the world have been paid to the "hero of rock and roll",
famed for his hit singles Johnny B. Goode, Roll Over Beethoven and Sweet
Little Sixteen.
Berry, the man cited as creating the script for rock and roll, had celebrated his 90th birthday in October with the announcement that he was releasing his first album since 1979.
Police were called to his home on Saturday afternoon.
Ringo Starr led the tributes to "Mr Rock and Roll".
"R I P. And peace and love Chuck Berry Mr. rock 'n' roll music," he wrote on Twitter.
The
Rolling Stones said they are "deeply saddened" by the death of Chuck
Berry, describing him as a "true pioneer of rock 'n' roll and a massive
influence on us".
"I
am so sad to hear of Chuck Berry's passing. I want to thank him for all
the inspirational music he gave to us," Mick Jagger said.
"He lit up our teenage years, and blew life into our dreams of being musicians and performers.
"His
lyrics shone above others & threw a strange light on the American
dream. Chuck you were amazing&your music is engraved inside us
forever."
"Chuck
Berry was rock's greatest practitioner, guitarist, and the greatest
pure rock 'n' roll writer who ever lived," added Bruce Springsteen.
The Beach Boys Brian Wilson said he was an "inspiration".
"I
am so sad to hear about Chuck Berry passing - a big inspiration! He
will be missed by everyone who loves Rock 'n Roll. Love & Mercy," he
wrote.
Scorpions
founder Rudolf Schenker said on Twitter: "One of my heroes, a true
icon, a legend just left the building. You was the definition of
Rock'n'Roll. I salute you! #rip #chuckberry"
St Charles County Police Department said paramedics had tried desperately to save him.
"The police responded to a medical emergency on Buckner Road at approximately 12.40pm on Saturday," they said.
"Inside
the home, first responders observed an unresponsive man and immediately
administered lifesaving techniques. "Unfortunately, the 90-year-old man
could not be revived and was pronounced deceased at 1.26pm.
"The
St Charles County Police Department sadly confirms the death of Charles
Edward Anderson Berry Sr., better known as legendary musician Chuck
Berry."
View photos
Chuck Berry performing in London in 1973 Credit: Rex
The
Jacksons said on Twitter: "Chuck Berry merged blues & swing into
the phenomenon of early rock 'n' roll. In music, he cast one of the
longest shadows. Thank You Chuck."
Whitesnake frontman David Coverdale added: "So sad to share the news of the exceptional Chuck Berry's passing...RIP Chuck..."
Epic Records chairman LA Reid said Berry had changed music forever.
"Music was changed forever by Chuck Berry's indescribable impact. What a great life in music," he wrote.
View photos
Chuck Berry Credit: Rex
The singer-guitarist, who won the Polar Music Prize in 2014 - the musical equivalent of a Nobel prize, had dedicated his new music to his wife of 68 years, Themetta Berry.
He is credited for with turning the electric guitar into the main instrument of rock music.
"The
parameters of rock music were set one day in May 1955, when Chuck Berry
recorded his debut single "Maybellene"," his Polar Music Prize
citation read.
"Chuck
Berry was the rock'n'roll pioneer who turned the electric guitar into
the main instrument of rock music. Every riff and solo played by rock
guitarists over the last 60 years contains DNA that can be traced right
back to Chuck Berry. The Rolling Stones, The Beatles and a million other
groups began to learn their craft by playing Chuck Berry songs."
Known
as the "Father of Rock 'n' Roll", Berry influenced scores of modern-day
musicians and bands including the Rolling Stones' Keith Richards.
Born in St Louis in October 1926, he attempted to emulate his musical heroes including Nat King Cole and Muddy Waters.
When
the star started out he was one of the few black artists to appeal to
the new white audience, with a fresh twist on the wild, liberated sound
of rhythm and blues.
Mr. T’s Daughter Erica Clark Stands Out By Standing Up
byScout MacEachron
Erica Clark
"Why can't I?" the girl said with a mouthful of
food that, technically, still belonged to the grocery store they were
standing in. Erica Clark, 37, couldn't help but smile as the girl
finished eating what she'd unabashedly taken off the shelf.
"I thought, 'yeah, why can't you?'" reflects Clark.
For 10 years Clark taught children with Autism
and Down syndrome, a job she fell into when assigned to be a substitute
teacher in a special-education classroom. Last year she stopped teaching
to pursue her burgeoning stand-up comedy career and she took something
of them with her.
"I admired [my students]," said Clark. "They
didn't care what anyone else thought. It was so refreshing; there was no
sugar coating with them."
Growing up in Lake Forest, an affluent Chicago
suburb, Clark was the only African-American student in her high school
until her senior year. "It wasn't terrible, I never got bullied or
anything like that I just think that it's very strange to be the only
person of a certain race in a school of 1500 kids," said Clark.
When Clark tells people she's from Lake Forest, a
neighborhood that according to 2010 census data is 90 percent
caucasian, they ask if her father is a member of the Chicago Bulls. He
isn't.
"I always thought it was funny. My
dad had on gold chains and everyone else's dad had on a suit. Of course I
know it wasn't normal."
Erica Clark and her father Laurence Tureaud, aka Mr. T.
Clark's father is an acting, wrestling,
ex-football playing army veteran who once chopped down 70 trees in 3
hours and served as Muhammad Ali's personal bodyguard.
Clark's father is the one and only "Mr. T."
Mr. T, born Laurence Tureaud, is a bouncer
turned professional wrestler, turned actor. Known for roles on the
television series "The A-Team" and "Rocky III" Mr. T is arguably one of
the most oversized pop culture personalities of the 80s.
Growing up the child of a celebrity, Clark
learned from a young age to make light of unusual situations--like
watching a coked up Hulk Hogan accidentally crash through your dining
room table over Thanksgiving dinner.
"I always thought it was funny. My dad had on
gold chains and everyone else's dad had on a suit," said Clark. "Of
course I know it wasn't normal."
Recently Clark stood in front of over 600 people
in a room as resplendent as her father's once trademark gold chains.
Clark was there to tell a story.
Clark was one of ten writers who won the Moth GrandSLAM, an annual competition held by The Moth,
a non-profit dedicated to the art of storytelling. Founded by writer
George Dawes Green in 1997, The Moth hosts a popular radio program as
well as numerous live, storytelling events and competitions.
GrandSLAM winners tell a shorter version of
their winning story at the Moth's annual fundraiser in New York City,
The Moth Ball. (The night also honored comedian Louis C.K. who regaled
the crowd with a tale of traveling Russia alone at age 25.)
Erica
Clark was one of ten writers who won the Moth GrandSLAM, an annual
competition held by The Moth, a non-profit dedicated to the art of
storytelling. Liz Ligon
Clark recounted the time her mother, Phyllis
Clark, tried to strangle her teacher for claiming that Clark couldn't
keep up with the other students in her Lake Forest class. A good story,
certainly one that embodied this year's theme: conflict.
Most of Clark's comedy and stories are about her own life.
There was the time she sent "probably the
filthiest text message you could ever think of" to 'Dad' instead of
'Dave.' After realizing her 4 A.M. mistake Clark turned off her phone in
fear. When she finally did pick up her father curtly asked how she was,
neglecting to mention the text. They never spoke of it. The call was
one of few they share each year.
"We talk maybe once or twice a year. We're not
super close since I moved out," said Clark. "He wants me to be a nice
teacher and get married and have kids. [My dad] doesn't want me to do
entertainment at all so he hasn't come to any of my shows before but
he's aware that I do it."
Despite her father's wishes Clark has wanted to go into entertainment since she was little.
"I always wanted to be the center of attention,"
said Clark. "It's weird, I don't think most people know this but my dad
is pretty shy when he's not on camera. I was never like that…to be
honest with you, I just wanted to be famous."
Clark is the first to admit that her father's notoriety helped her initially.
"People at first book me because they want to
see what I look like or what I'll talk about on stage," said Clark. "A
lot of my peers think it's an unfair advantage. But [Mr. T] being my dad
can only get me in the door. You still have to be funny. They're not
going to keep putting you on stage because of who you're related to."
Clark is a regular on Chicago's competitive
stand-up comedy circuit, has performed across the country, and also
hosts a morning radio show in Chicago. Perhaps what's most impressive is
that she's done so with a permanence of selfhood rivaled only perhaps
by her father's hairstyle—which he's maintained in a West African
Warrior Mandinka cut since 1977. Clark doesn't cater to what may be
expected of her as a female or African-American comedian.
My dad is pretty shy when he's not on camera. I was never like that…to be honest with you, I just wanted to be famous.
Erica Clark
"It bothers me, men will be on stage and talk
about everything. They'll talk about sports, news, relationships,
everything. Women tend to just stick with the relationship stuff and I
didn't want to be like that. I didn't want to go up there and talk about
my period," said Clark.
Clark tries to avoid delving in to politics when
she's on stage. But she does approach issues like race in a
refreshingly honest way.
"People tell me they don't see color and I'm
like are you joking? You know what race I am. You see me. That's fine.
Just don't shoot me because of it."
Clark credits working with special needs
students as teaching her life is better when you don't worry about what
other people think and just have fun. And that's exactly what she
intends to do.
Going forward Clark plans to continue doing
stand-up, storytelling, radio programs and perhaps some guest
appearances on TV shows.
Standing on stage Tuesday night Clark was the
only African-American GrandSLAM winner. But as she stepped forward to
that didn't seem to matter. She was no longer defined by her race or
gender. She was no longer Mr. T's daughter or a teacher turned comedian.
She was a human being telling a story.
"I want to say what I really feel. For me comedy
is a relief. It's the only time in my day that I don't have to act like
Mary sunshine," said Clark. "It's like 'ahhh' I can relax, take my
shoes off and be honest."
Doing celebrity wife swap was the worst idea for Jermaine Jackson. Because people got to get an inside look at his life he embarrassed his wife and encouraged outsiders to come in and encourage her to leave him. He acted like an ass when he got mad about the lady wanting to move his clothes out of the house, I mean he turned into a grown up spoiled brat for millions of people all over the world to see! I know he thought it would help his career, but it did irreparable damage to his image his reputation and his brand. And made his wife look at him in a different way for she thought she was married to a man, not a grown up child!! Some things people don't need to know and with access so instant these days, his wife got swamped by probably millions of people outraged by Jermaine's antics and questioning her good judgement in staying with him. That's why he can't get his wife back, for he humiliated her in front of millions of people, which is probably what the producers of the show planned to do. Don't bother trying to sue Jermaine for he agreed to do the show.It's too late for the damage has been done. There are some things people don't need to see for it simply isn't gonna' go over well. Like his weird whining about his hands. Im like is he serious?!!? I mean if he had a thing about his hands he should have hired somebody for that instead of conscripting his wife to do this and if he wass gonna' do this this was something the world didn't need to know about! And then his clothes all over the place; Didn't he have money for a closet???? And then what was the big deal? He could have gotten his clothes back after the show! Or didn't he have money to build a separate building on his property to house his clothes if he just had to keep them???? But having them all over the fuckin' house like that didn't look to kool and made him look like a nut or something. This show destroyed his marriage and then why is he doing reality shows anyway? Why isn't he on tour somewhere? Jermaine may not have been as big as his brother Michael, but he was still a highly successful solo artist who charted over 20 top ten hits by himself. He could make a good living touring by himself. I guess he's gotten lazy in his old age coz' I can say that doing celebrity wife swap was the worst career move he could have ever made. Then refusing to do follow ups on the show hasn't helped him either. He never should have exposed that aspect of his life like that for evn I wa outraged about his whining over his fuckin' hands! What kind of nut was he? Jermaine, you've been in the business long enough to know they ar always gonna do their best to make somebody black look bad. We know were you white they would have made up all kinds of ridiculous excuses for your actions; BUT HELLO YOU'RE NOT WHITE! They are gonna skewer you every chance they can and your dumass gave them all the ammunition they needed to ruin your good name and your image, Ain't got to many more offers have you? Jermaine you're to old to be an idiot!!!
Update
In response to all the negative publicity Jermaine is hiding from the media. He hasn't given another interview and won't talk to anyone about him and his wife's divorce. You should have done that before you went on Celebrity Wife Swap Jermaine. You're not gonna' ride this one out like you may have done before coz there are simply things people do not need to know about. When you are in the public eye you have to ever be vigilante about what you allow the press and your fans to see, coz' once they see it you can't go back and make them unsee it. That's why Prince was very smart in not allowing the press unfettered access into his life. A lesson every celebrity or wannbe should learn.
Singer Jermaine Jackson’s wife, Halima Rashid, says their lives would be better if they divorced.
The 61-year-old’s spouse, whom he married in 2004, filed for divorce earlier this week.
“With
a great amount of sorrow and regret, I announce that I am filing for
divorce from Jermaine Jackson. We have enjoyed many good times during
our marriage of nearly 12 years, but we have reached a point where our
lives would be better and more productive if we are not married,”
people.com quoted Rashid as saying.
“I respect and care for
Jermaine and his legendary family, and feel blessed to have been a part
of the Jacksons. At this time, I ask that our friends, family members
and the media respect the difficulty of this decision and allow us
privacy as we move on with our lives. Thank you very much,” she added.
Rashid and Jackson got married in 2004 and separated last year on November 28 due to irreconcilable differences.
See how crazy money or the desire for it can drive people crazy. Here it is this asshole use his relation to the Jackson's to gain entry into Katherine Jasckson's home and then commences to try an set up a program of terror against this elderly woman trying to set himself up to take control of the money she gets monthly. It got so bad she had to file a restraining order against him and still he's trying to not leave the estate refusing to give up the keys to the guest house. And we wonder why so many Black celebrities don't allow their family around them. He probably gave her a story about trying to get his start in L.A. to get entry into her home then proceeded with his criminal enterprise. What I'd do Katherine is hire some security, change the locks on the guesthouse and if this fool trespasses on her property again have him arrested. Trust me the kkkops in L.A. will be glad to do it. But he deserves it. Dude, why don't you use your relation to the Jackson's to start your own career insted of trying to rob an old lady you fuckin' terd! Quit being a lazy piece o' shit and go earn your own damned money!!!
The nephew ordered to stay away from Katherine Jackson says he knows what is really going on ... some of Michael Jackson's siblings are plotting a money grab against the MJ estate.
A judge clearly sees it differently, siding with Katherine, who claims Trent Jackson
has been fleecing her out of money and isolating her from her family.
Trent, who Katherine says she is now scared he may physically harm her,
has been ordered to stay 100 yards away from her and her home.
Sources close to Trent tell TMZ, he's adamant he did nothing untoward
and believes some of MJ's brothers and sisters want him out of the way
so they have a clear path to Katherine and MJ's estate.
We're told Trent believes some of Katherine's kids will now try and
influence her to put pressure on Michael's estate to give her a bigger
piece of the pie, and he believes they want to cut themselves in on the
action.
Here's the problem with Trent's theory. Katherine has no right to
simply get more money because she wants it. She gets a healthy stipend,
and the duty of those in charge of the estate is to preserve and grow
the assets for the benefit of Michael's 3 kids and his designated
charities.
And, Trent has another problem. We're told he refuses to surrender
the keys to Katherine's guesthouse where he's been living, but the
restraining order is clear ... he has to give up the keys and move out.
The nephew ordered to stay away from Katherine Jackson says he knows what is really going on ... some of