You have to hand it to Pacman Jones and his posse.
There is just no quit in them.
And you cannot take that away from them.
And if you are dumb enough to try, you just might wind up paralyzed with a bullet lodged in your spine.
At least that is how it ended up for Tommy Urbanski, the Las Vegas strip club bouncer who was consigned to a wheelchair the rest of his life after Jones and his posse experienced a misunderstanding with the strippers and were ordered to leave the place.
That is no way to treat Jones and his posse, and so all manner of mayhem ensued, including the requisite gunfire that put Urbanski in a wheelchair.
You need the gunfire to keep it real, according to the keep-it-real definition of the nitwit crowd.
Besides, it is so easy to keep it real in America, with the majority of Americans not carrying weapons and living in gun-free zones like D.C., where the only ones armed are the criminal class, while the rest of us walk around with a bull’s-eye on our back.
This is considered the purest form of enlightenment in blue locales.
If I were one of the many judges who is always running into Jones in this or that courtroom, I would ask him whether he and his posse would be willing to keep it real in Iraq or Afghanistan. I mean, it is really real in those two theaters of military operations.
And if I were the sentencing judge, I would be more than happy to dump Jones and his posse along the Afghanistan-Pakistan border, with the instructions: “Now keep it real.”
This could be an updated version of “The Dirty Dozen.”
It is not as if Jones will be playing football with the Titans this fall after receiving a one-year suspension from NFL commissioner Roger Goodell.
The suspension was meted out before Las Vegas authorities charged Jones with two felonies this week and before authorities in Atlanta became interested in questioning Jones and his posse about a shooting that occurred following an argument at a strip club there.
That is the other thing about Jones and his posse. They are consistent performers.
They show up to a strip club in whatever city, ready to “make it rain” with a bag full of money, and matters deteriorate from there.
The Atlanta incident came days after Jones met with Goodell and promised to clean up his act.
That vow apparently did not include staying out of strip clubs, where the combination of liquor, live nudes and massive amounts of testosterone sometimes leads to communication issues, not the least of which is: Who gets to rescue the stripper with the heart of gold?
Or at least that is how Hollywood would portray it in a movie.
Jones would be Stripperman who is merely trying to save wayward women from a life of slithering up and down a pole.
Some news reports claim Jones has been arrested five times since being drafted by the Titans in 2005. Others claim it is six arrests. Who can keep count at his pace?
It is not as if his stat sheet reads: interceptions, return yardage, touchdowns and arrests.
The end result for Jones and his posse remains unsettled.
Maybe they are planning to visit a strip club in a neighborhood near you.
I have two strip clubs in my neighborhood, and the only action worth mentioning from those establishments is the annual knifing and those with weak bladders irrigating the near-by parking-lots.
I am certain our adorable strippers, all of whom have hearts of gold, would love Jones and his posse to “make it rain.”
Just one condition: Please give us advance warning, guys, so we can arm ourselves in preparation of your arrival.
Jones and his posse want to keep it real.
I want to keep it fair.
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