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It Feels Good To Be Home!

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Just like the lovely Lizz Robbins expressed, I am very happy to make my return to KING Magazine and give the gift of laughter through this, my Fine Sh*terature column. I know a few of you may have been wondering, “Leon, what have you been up to since KING went away and made a comeback stronger than Superman working out with Barry Bonds’ personal trainer?”

Even if you weren’t wondering, I’m going to tell you any damned way. Here is what I have been up to during my Fine Sh*terature sabbatical:

Every feminist I know rejoiced when KING closed up shop…and they ALL decided to throw it in my face!

Women the world over talked all kinds of trash to me during this point in time, as if KING Magazine were responsible for all of the misogyny and objectification of women on Earth. They reveled in their perceived victory and took every opportunity to say to me, “No offense, but that’s what you motherf*ckers get for posting all those photos of butt cheeks! Get the f*ck out of here with that Luke bullsh*t!”

I let them revel in their simpleton bliss, because you know what happened after that? The other men’s magazines catering to KING’s demographic saw an opening and started putting MORE ASS on their pages! Thus, setting the stage for The Champ (a.k.a., THIS SH*T RIGHT CH’ERE) to make a triumphant return!

Barack Obama named me the first official United States Ambassador to Awesome

Yes, I was the first man appointed to represent a state of mind. However, I was stripped of my title 5 days later because after I learned that I enjoyed Diplomatic Immunity and could get in trouble overseas without prosecution, I took a trip to Thailand to test the limits of said immunity. I don’t really blame Barry (that’s what I call him) and the State Department for taking away my powers, because I proved to be an international incident waiting to happen. As a part of the terms of my extradition, I can no longer speak of the events of that trip in detail. Let’s just say they involved a dead midget hooker, a Nike sweatshop and the opium trade…and leave it at that.

I went to Miami on Memorial Day Weekend, not knowing that in Miami, “Hip-Hop Weekend” = N*gga Sh*t!

My first trip to Miami ever presented itself in very cost-effective fashion, so I jumped at the opportunity. Little did I know, I was going down there when “Hip-Hop Weekend” was going on. Although I liked the amount of sexy ladies, just about everything else going on out there was ridiculously over the top. I plan to go back to Miami this year, but on a NORMAL weekend so I can have fun without watching people getting arrested on the street.

I rescued an alley cat, and named her “Thunderpussy”…

I haven’t seen Thunderpussy in awhile, so I think she might have finally used up that 9th life of hers, but for months I fed that mangy, skuzzy grey ally cat whenever I saw her hanging around my place. I would never pet that thing or let it in the house, because sh*t, she’s a f*cking ally cat. No telling what kind of cooties that little hoe is spreading. Despite the lack of actual contact, I could tell that Thunderpussy felt the love. That, or she knew that whenever I’d say the word “Thunderpussy” it meant that she was about to get a free meal. Whatever the case, I am going to pour out some liquor in your memory tonight, my filthy little friend!

I went for a jog in Arizona and almost got deported.

I’m Black, and Leon is as ex-con-sounding of a first name as it gets…but thanks to my physical appearance, most people assume I’m Hispanic. So one morning, I was jogging in Arizona, trying to get in shape so I can get my L.L. Cool J on this summer. A police officer came up to me and said, “LET ME SEE YOUR PAPERS, B*TCH!”

I was like, “What are you talking about? I don’t even smoke like that! If I did, I wouldn’t use no damn papers. They burn too fast…”

Next, the cop tazed me in the nipple, called me a beaner and took me to jail. I was this close to being the Black Elian Gonzales. My legal team saved the day though. I walked out of there like Pretty Tony from The Mack, talking ‘bout “I’m a rich nigga! I got lawyers you beat-walking motherf*cker!” Arizona, get your immigration laws together, because that sh*t was NOT cool!

I learned that “I used to write for KING Magazine” isn’t nearly as impressive to model chicks as “I write for KING Magazine.”

Even the dumb ones know the difference between past-tense and the present. It’s all about perceived connections! Thank you KING, for all of the pretty women I’ve met as a result of my contributions to your publication. No sir, there is nothing wrong with Residual Pimpin.’ Trickle-down p*ssy is just as enjoyable as any other kind, sometimes more so!

As you can see, I’ve kept myself quite busy. I trust that you readers have made forward strides since the last time I made you laugh at something highly inappropriate. Even if you haven’t, it’s okay. I am just very happy to be back, and I will continue to give you a steady dose of Fine Sh*terature to keep you smiling!


For more laughs, check out Leon’s blog, follow him on Twitter and add him on Facebook 

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