50 Cent Review
 Someone (Carnie) fucked up on the 8 x 10 reviews in the Hated & Misunderstood issue. For the photo of Crazy Eye, or whatever his name is, from Onyx, it came off like the photo was of 50 Cent. But we all know 50 Cent is way cooler than that Onyx guy. If you've been reading any of the press on 50 Cent, you know he would probably kill that Onyx guy or shoot him in his good eye. I bet 50 would shoot him even if they were friends. That's the kind of fun guy 50 Cent seems to be. You know the kind. Every circle has that one guy that likes to wrestle or punch you in the face and laugh. They don't mean any harm, that's just their way. For us it's Heather's husband, Pat Roach. I think he wants to be a wrestler when he grows up because every time he sees one of us, he tackles us. It's like his version of the hip-hop hug, only it takes place on the ground. And it leaves a mark. Now, imagine that same warm, embracing personality possessing numerous firearms, and I think you have 50 Cent. You see 50 on the street, "Yo! What's up, 50!" you yell. He nods, shoots you in the leg and yells back, "Hey, Chris. How have you been, my friend?" I don't think he means anything by it, and certainly he doesn't mean any harm, shooting is just his way to show affection. But I'm sure that if he didn't like you, you'd know, probably by him shooting you in a more painful, less loving way. Such is the case with Pat Roach. If he likes you, he might toss you around, but he'd never let you break anything. If you're on the wrong side of his love, he'd probably put you in a choke hold and not let go, though. That's what worries me about 50. What if 50 Cent reads the Hated and Misunderstood issue and thinks I was calling him the guy from Onyx? He'll want to shoot me. In a bad way. And you know he's not going to believe me when I say, "Listen, it's the other editor's fault. He's white. He can't tell us black people apart." He's just going to shoot my ass off. So, if you see me walking down the street, and my pants are falling off because I don't have an ass, you'll know why. Thanks, Dave.
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