What’s up everybody in internet land? This is The Shadow’s crib. Er, hizzle. I guess they’re starting with the neighborhood, like the drive in. So, as you can see we’re graveyard adjacent. A lot of people, I think, would be bothered by that, but I’m, you know, I’m OK with it. It’s peaceful. It’s like a park only there are dead bodies everywhere. I forget the name of it. Like Potter’s Cemetery or something. I guess Potter was like the town founder or something? Like Mr. Ichabod Potter, Esquire or something. I don’t know. But that’s his field. I don’t believe in ghosts or anything, so I’m OK with it.

And then, like, the other half of the cemetery is across the highway. I guess they used to be connected, and they paved over some people’s graves, which might explain the frequent zombie attacks in the area. You know, people are angry and stuff.

This pic is of the train bridge. We don’t live under there or anything, but it’s right close by and, you know, the vibrations aren’t too bad. I mean they are but you get used to them. I guess they took that pic because those tracks are sort of famous. At least in Delaware. That’s where college students go to die. This one time, the cops pulled someone over right where the tracks cross Main Street and they got killed by the train, and then this drunk girl passed out on them and she got all smushed, and then some kid was walking and listening to his iPod and got crunched. I think that was the last one. It’s mostly freight that comes through this way. Chemicals mostly it looks like, at least from what you can see. Like, they haul hydrochloric acid in these big blue vat-looking cars. They used to bring parts to the Chrysler plant, but they closed it down, so. . . that’s it. So there they are – the tracks of doom or whatever.

All right, so here’s an updated pic of my ride.

The old Pontiizzle was stolen, or more likely, it was abducted by aliens, picked through, and then dumped off at the nearest spot. I say that because it somehow found its way to the arctic – there’s a pic.

So there lies the Knight Rider-era bomb ride, which was much more appropriate for undercover style super-secret hijinx, but Bluezer0 hasn’t yet paid to have it brought back. Hint hint.

Anyway, so now I’m pimpin’ the ’05 Kia, the least expensive car sold in America for that year.

But the way I roll, values are king. Knamean? It has the fourteen inch wheels, with the factory hubcaps. Like, it has valve stems and all that. ‘Cause, you know, it has to. The driver’s side front tire has a slow leak, but I’m going to get myself some Fix-A-Flat. I mean, not the actual name brand Fix-A-Flat, but like the Kmart brand knock-off. That should do it. But it has the 1.4 liter four-cylinder jaunz, like bam! 32 miles to the gallon highway, dawg. It, um, you know it can do like 80 if it’s not windy out. Oh and it’s got an automatic transmission so you know I’m chillin’. No cortisone shots in my shoulder, know what I’m saying? I leave that to the suckers.

And this is part of the east garden area. The landscapers haven’t been keeping up with the, um, you know with like planting. Or growing anything. But I’m saying, it’s going to be the garden as soon as they get the rain gutter fixed. You know, cause the water just pours down there from the roof. I’ve, um, called maintenance about that already. But, you know. They don’t respond.

Over here, this is like a shot of the lawn. And The Shadow's Shadow. Ha! That’s real Kentucky Blue Grass. I mean, it’s not really, it’s just an amalgam of weeds and moss and shit together that looks like grass, but from far away, it looks kind of like Kentucky Blue Grass. And, um, pay no attention to the cigarette butts. They’re from the people above us, and the people above them. And the maintenance guys.

This is our private entrance here. That’s the washer woman Consuela. She’s hanging clothes out to dry because the dryer is kind of broken. I mean, it works, like it turns on and makes noise and all that, but when you get your clothes out they’re still all wet, so it. . . well you get the point.

This is me casa and it ain’t su casa cause there really isn’t much room for you. Ha. Um. . . I mean, like, you could fit in there, but I would have to step outside in order for you to do that. Well, it is what it is.

This is The (Wilmington) News Journal over the windows. One of our neighbors told us he saw some dude creep up to our door and look in those windows. We called the po-po but, like, they didn’t do anything, or, like. . . come out here. So, we kick newspaper styles. You can see we cut it to fit. And hopefully, that’ll, you know, keep that dude from breaking in.

I mean, we have security – this is the security system. That’s right. We got a dragon, just like The Munsters had under the stairs. Except, you know. Ours is small, and it, well, like it doesn’t breathe fire. It’s not really going to stop the burglar, but I mean, if he’s afraid of snakes, it might. . . gross him out. If he sees it. It kind of hides a lot.

This is the kitchen. We need cheap sources of protein so we stock up on peanut butter. After the salmonella scare, we got a mad cheap deal on Peter Pan from my boy that works in the municipal waste department in Jersey. So, you know, good times are coming. And we have a connect with a doctor who, you know, writes prescriptions for cheap, so like we can get some penicillin or whatever if the salmonella gets too bad.

Yo, this is my sandwich thing. Like, when I take a sandwich to work, I don’t want it getting all banged up in a plastic bag, so like, I got the Wonder Bread jaunz. And that’s pretty sturdy construction. I mean, it’s just molded plastic, but. . . well. . .

This is my fridge. We got mad jelly. That’s the ¢69 Acme brand apple, and the other is the more exorbitant black currant preserves. ‘Cause when the Peter Pan comes in, it’s on, you know what I’m saying? I mean, we’ll have to clean up the jars first, because they’ll, well you know, they’re coming from the dump, but after after we clean ‘em up it’s on. We definitely kick PB&J styles in my hizzle. And there’s some beer, ‘cause Bluezer0 takes mad care of me, and some ketchup. Baking soda. Bread, but that’s mad old. In the front that’s my girl’s string cheese, cause, you know, what my baby wants, my baby gets.

This bottle here, this is the crème de la crème, which is French for fortified wine, also known as Port. Lemme tell you the story – Port is short for Portugal. Back in the days when Britain and France were at war, the Brits couldn’t get French wine, so they started importing it from Portugal. But for some reason the wine would go bad on ship board, so they started fortifying it. That’s a complicated chemical process where you, you know, add extra alcohol to keep the wine from turning into vinegar. So, that’s 19% alcohol right there, my friend. It’s a dessert wine, cause it’s real sweet like Manischiewitz, but we use it for whatever. Disinfecting wounds, like when that raccoon got into our shower, but also, like for, you know, a morning pick-me-up.

Oh and this is my lady. She works nights, so before she goes to work she’s making me some mac and cheese, ‘cause she’s a fine culinary artist. You can’t see it in that pic, but she’s got no shoes on. She doesn’t wear her work shoes until she gets there because they’re hard for her to walk in. And plus they break pretty easy. But I got her picture from the good side, cause she’s got a bruise on the other side of her face. Not from me, though. It’s what you call an occupational hazard.

This is where The Shadow sleeps. This is my side of the bed. Some of the, like, springs or whatever have collapsed on this side, so it’s kind of like sleeping in a ditch. It kind of sucks. I’m not real happy with it. Oh, and I’m taller than the bed, so my feet hang off the edge. Which. . . you know. It sucks. But it’s better than the set-up we had before. We used to have two single beds pushed together, and one was higher up than the other, so, like, well, there was a ridge. And then like a valley you might fall into. So this is definitely an improvement.

This is the library, where The Shadow gets his reading done. You can see the headline there about the fish in the Delaware Bay being at risk, which everyone already knows. You know, once the river caught fire last year, the state of the bay was pretty obvious. And that headline is a few weeks old, but I mean, I don’t need a paper every day. I can keep up by, like, skipping weeks, and then reading everything in the next week’s paper. And that’s fifty cents that can help get me a Hershey bar out the vending machine at work. People are like, “You should get some books,” but I’m like fuck that. You know? A book is the same all the time, but the paper changes, it’s always moving forward like a shark. You know what I mean? I have to move forward. I’m not getting stuck in the past with one of your snotty books.

This is the office. This is where your Shadow articles are written, edited, posted, and closely watched in case a girl leaves a comment. You know, but don’t tell my lady that ‘cause she’d start yelling and I’d have to smack her. I try not to do that, but she brings it on herself. Sometimes she goes off about my cut, ‘cause you know I get 60%, but I keep my pimp hand strong. But anyway, I was saying, this is the office. That's an old Pearl Jam CD, and my checkbook and some other junk. I just cleaned up a week or so ago, but usually there are stacks of shadowy bills and et cetera.

On screen is Shiva, Goddess of Destruction and Life. She’s pretty hot. I mean, part of her is a dude, and that part isn’t hot, but the chick part is mad hot. I like Indian chicks. With that long black hair, and the. . . well you know. But this statue has all kinds of meanings and stuff. Like, it looks like she’s standing on a little kid, but that’s supposed to be the ego, which, once conquered, ends the wheel of Samsara, which is the process that leads people to be reincarnated over and over again on this shitty planet. And then in her, well one of her left, or to us it’s left but to her it’s right, hands there’s the drum of time. And then the hand that’s, like, limp, that’s the elephant posture, which symbolizes that she creates the path through life the same way an elephant creates a path through the jungle. And then in that hand on the other side, that’s the fire ball which symbolizes that everything will be destroyed eventually. And then the one that looks like she’s waving at you, that’s the “do not fear” posture which, you know, means don’t be afraid of anything because we’ll all be dead in a while and we won’t have to care about any of this crap anymore. After having seen my creeib, or rather my hizzle, you can see why I’d need a statue like this around.

Oh, and this is Shadow-bling. On the left, that one is, you know, a real Quartz brand watch. That’s real, um, stainless steel. I mean, it’s aluminum or something, but they fix it up real nice so it looks like stainless steel. It’s probably not aluminum, it’s probably some kind of alloy or something. Who knows? And then on the right, that’s an Armitron. I mean, it’s a replica, but I’m saying, it works when, you know, you, like, bang it on the desk. I bought it off the internet. You know I have this this inside hook-up, where this dude always emails me with great deals on replica watches. He said it’s just like a real Armitron. You know, but it’s broke.

Outside again. All right. When you’ve been in there for a while you have to step out to get some air. You know, they recommend that because of the asbestos. That and the smell. This is the west garden. They haven’t, like, raked the leaves for a while. I think it’s probably like ’05 since they raked, but before then, there was like some mulch under there, and there was some kind of bush that looks like it’s gone. But there were maybe some daffodils or something. I forget. But there was like, a dog, or a large possum maybe, that used to get in there and mess it all up, so, you know, don’t go walking through those leaves.

And then they included a pic of me, with the bar over my face to keep my identity hidden. But that’s me. The Shizadow. What? You didn’t know I was black? That’s your problem.

But, um, yo that’s my crib. I mean, my hizzle. Get out, Whitey.