Time Foe Tha H-Dog To Give PropsCommentary • ISSUE 35•41 • Nov 10, 1999 By Herbert Kornfeld, Accounts Receivable Supervisor Yo, peep this: I wanna take this opportunity to give a shout-out to all tha homies who got tha H-Dog's back in his day-to-day bidness as tha Accountz Reeceevable Supervisa over at Midstate Office Supply, know what I'm sayin'? Now, I know what all y'all be thinkin': Damn, that H-Dog, he a straight-up big-willie highrolla, an' if there ever wuz a person that don't need to give no props to nobody, he it. No diggity, bruthahs an' sistahs. But, yo, check this out. Last week, all tha Midstate Office Supply employees get this memo statin' that tha office be closin' foe tha Thursday and Friday of tha Thanksgivin' holiday weekend, so we can all chill in our cribs an' eat turkey an' shit wit' our respective krews. When I first read this, I call bullshit. Yo, tha only holiday tha H-Dog observe is tha annual CPA convention at tha Ramada Inn Northeast. Fuck all that Santa Claus an' Easta Bunny shit. Them holidayz be foe tha shorties, not foe no HARD BANGAS like myself. But then I starts to thinkin' and assessin' all tha shit I gots to be grateful for. I gots my slidin'-bar report covers, my magnetic paypa-clip dispenser, my steel two-drawer locking file cabinet, my five-slot file-folder organizer, my anodized aluminum-frame dry-erase board and a particularly fly assortment of Paypa Mate rollaball pens wit' tha rubba-ized grips. But that ain't all I gots to be thankful fo'. I brings home some serious scratch from my gig at Midstate, an' I gots health insurance an' a comprehensive dental plan too. An' my 401K be so loaded, I'll be one jiggy muthafucka come retirement. An' after each day's bidness be done, I be rollin' wit' my Cash Room bitches in my fly hoopty, Tha Nite Rida, a 1981 Buick Regal wit all-leather interior an' rear-window defogga, gettin' my mack on wit' them bitches in my one-bedroom pad with tha mini-blinds an' track lightin' an' shit. That ain't bad foe someone who, not too long ago, was doin' his accountin' on tha street an' didn't expect to make it to 30. So I wanna give a shout-out to all y'all what been good to tha H-Dog. Now, I gots such mad-phat skillz, I woulda been a stone-cold supastar in tha accountin' profession without all y'all, anyway, but tha way I figure it, tha less peoples I gots to use my Letta Opener of Death on, tha better. So heads up, 'cuz Tha H-Dog wanna thank tha following: Allah, my moms, my pops (R.I.P., pops--I'll mourn you 'til I join you), tha Future Bidness Leadas of America, tha whole krew doin' they thang over at Eastech Bidness & Technical College, includin' mah faculty advisa Mr. Sherman, Mr. Scoville, Miss Knoche, Mr. Wisniewski, an' my Eastech classmates, Isaac, Patel, Margaret, Dale an' Kenneth. Mad props also go to many membas of tha Midstate Office Supply Krew, includin' tha Accountz Reeceevable Posse, Gary an' Gladys; administrative comptrolla Gerald Luckenbill; tha bumpin' hos in Marketing--Cheryl, Annette, Thea, Kari, Jessica an' Julie; my freaky boos in tha Cash Room--Darlene, Agnes, Mary Lou an' Harriet; all y'all keepin' it real down in Shipping; Rufus in Customa Service; Bob Cowan in Human Resources; an' that retarded kid who picks up trash in tha parking lot. Then there's all my bruthahs locked down in tha Birchwood Minimum Security Penitentiary for various white-colla offenses: Bill "Tha Funkee Network Administratah" Doering; Net Profit; Sir Casio KL7000; THREE-EM; His Funky-Fresh Badness, AirGoNomic; and Jerry Tha Sharpie Head (hope you ain't jonesin' for them felt-tips no more, bruthah). Also, much love to tha old-school geezer who invented double-entry bookkeeping. I don't know who he is, but all praise to him, for he is the root on which the fruit grow. An' last but not least, mad thankz to mah homie CPA-ONE, who taught me everything I knows about accountin'. We used to work tha streets together, just two hungry young hustlas accountin' freestyle. I wish he wuz here to receive his full props, but, as I related in a earlier column, he wuz killed in lockdown by some bitch-ass Accountz Payabo punk. YOU WILL BE AVENGED, BRUTHAH. Word is bond. This column is dedicated to all tha peoples what be officin' out there, reconcilin', copy-filin', spreadsheet-balancizin'... all that shit. Peace to all y'all. Except you Accountz Payabo muthafuckas. Y'all best sleep wit' one eye open, muthafuckas, 'cuz you on mah list. H-Dog OUT.