Thus the legend begins, only to end with one word: Balk.
Just around the same time Lucifer bestowed to the earth the one and only Christ-opher Kaman to do his sinful bidding (much like the Dark Angel Gabriel, except with a knack for the not-so-occasional 211), Renaldo Balkman was born from a roach in a tree. Quite possibly a mix between the Ethiopian prophet Haile Selassie I and Tyrone Bigby from The Chappelle's Show, Balkman currently gets paid $2,112,417 a year to act as a sort of mediator between blunts and the countless clouds of smoke that are at least partly responsible for global warming. In this biography, I aim to delve into the merits of Balkman's career, both on and off the basketball court. From his role as a crime fighter/instigator, known in the Carolinas as "The Incredible Balk," to his more recent successes as a professional botanist and a licensed "grower" in the great state of Colorado. No page in Renaldo Balkman's lifestory will remain unturned. This motherfucker, however, is just a prologue, so I will start with the Genesis of Renaldo -- and what better way to begin the tale than to start with the infamous sensimilia growing off the top of what most people consider a human being? Of course that question mark is rhetorical because as fans of both basketball and all things "hard" know, dredlocks cannot be considered simply a hairstyle, but rather a symbol of random ass sheeeeee-et -- like why Josh Howard doesn't care about white people, or black people, or mulattos for that matter. Perhaps one of the most controversial natural phenomena in the history of black people, Balkman's hair has been a topic of both political and religious debate since the late 1990s, when New York City police officials stationed in Staten Island reported a strange incident on the night of April 20th, 1998. On a later court date, the prosecutor for the District Attorney office questioned said police officers who had searched the third floor of Building #3 of the Stapleton housing projects following a 9-1-1 distress call. What follows is a brief excerpt from the official court transcript, which I believe does well to summarize that fascinating and fateful evening on the shores of Shaolin:
STATE OF NEW YORK In The General Court of Justice Before the Clerk IN THE MATTER OF: The People of the State of New York, Respondent, v S.G. Coles, Appellant. Aired February 15, 2000 - 12:30 p.m. ET
THIS IS A RUSH TRANSCRIPT. THIS COPY MAY NOT BE IN ITS FINAL FORM AND MAY BE UPDATED. (BEGIN RECORDING)
LIEUTENANT BOSS: After Officer Carroll kicked the door down, I saw what appeared to be a fiery body, crackling with what appeared to be some sort of homemade explosives or illegal fireworks.
FIELD OFFICER SEAN CARROLL, DEFENDANT: Everything started closing in on the object. Believing...believing that he had just pulled...was about to fire a gun at my partner, I fired my weapon.
FIELD OFFICER EDWARD McMELLON, DEFENDANT: I heard Sean yell, 'He's got a gun!' and I screamed, 'What are you doing!' and I fired.
LIEUTENANT KENNETH BOSS, DEFENDANT: I fired five shots.
UNIDENTIFIED MALE: How many shots did you think you fired?
LIEUTENANT BOSS: I thought I fired two.
UNIDENTIFIED MALE (PROSECUTING ATTORNEY): After you fired, what did you do?
LIEUTENANT BOSS: I fired, and then I jumped off to left.
UNIDENTIFIED MALE (PROSECUTING ATTORNEY): Why did you jump off to the left?
LIEUTENANT BOSS: I was out of the line of fire, I could no longer see in and they could no longer see out. I couldn't get shot if I was to the left.
UNIDENTIFIED MALE (PROSECUTING ATTORNEY): So what did you observe after the shots ceased?
LIEUTENANT BOSS: I couldn't see anything. There was too much smoke... I thought I had killed the perpetrator, but then the figure we all saw vanished into the smoke, thick as the devil's breath. Finally, I called in back-up and we made a move into the now empty apartment. And that's when I lost consciousness.
UNIDENTIFIED MALE (PROSECUTING ATTORNEY): Yes, we are all aware of the report. So what happened when you woke up?
LIEUTENANT BOSS: McMellon, Carroll, and me.. we were laying there... naked, with ash all over our bodies. All of our clothes were gone and there was a video camera in the middle of the room, but ...[*hesitating*]...
UNIDENTIFIED MALE (PROSECUTING ATTORNEY): Please, go on.
LIEUTENANT BOSS: But it was [expletive] empty! No tape! Then all I could hear was that bastard [*pointing*] laughing his ass off, doped up on something!
UNIDENTIFIED MALE (PROSECUTING ATTORNEY): Please point and speak the man's name that you are referring to and let the records state your claim.
LIEUTENANT BOSS: Him! Renaldo Blackman! [*Pointing, but not looking, at Balkman, seated in the first row behind the defendant*] I can't even look him in the eye. I mean, seriously, look all that goddam jewelry, he's blinding me!
UNIDENTIFIED MALE (PROSECUTING ATTORNEY): Mr. Boss, he's only thirteen-years-old! I mean you can't expect the courtroom to believe this story, do you? Please... [*whispering*] tell the other story...
UNIDENTIFIED MALE (DEFENDING ATTORNEY): Objection! Badgering the witness, your honor!
JUDGE HARRIS: Sustained. Please restate the question, even if you are up shit's creek without a mother[expletive] paddle.
LIEUTENANT BOSS: I have some idea of what none of you are talking about. I mean, wait... just listen to me! We woke up naked, in a pile of ash with the poignant smell of marijuana looming. After we got up, I only had time to grab a newspaper and wrap it around my body before I tackled the guy. I searched his person for any narcotics and ordered my men to search the rest of the house. I don't know if that bastard threw it all away or what happened, but he reeked of buds and my sinuses were dripping as I handcuffed the little [expletive]. Just look at him, wearing that fake, iced-out, glossy NYPD pendant around his neck just to spite us! After I booked him, back-up arrived and I was ready for some [expletive] poontang.
UNIDENTIFIED MALE (PROSECUTING ATTORNEY): Wait a minute... did you say fake? Wow, you must be trippin'. Hmm... Oh God... you're not high, are you? Mr. McMellon! Mr. Carroll! Are you two watching porn on your iPhones, or some kind of futuristic cellular contraption that I just now realize don't even exist yet!? Gentlemen, please... wake up! (END RECORDING)
Lieutenant Boss later failed to produce necessary proof of employment with NYPD, and test results revealed a record level of THC by volume in his bloodstream, (and in fact, they were all high as balls) which he attributed to "busting maaad parties, son." Also, Boss' driver's license was issued in Kansas where a man of the same name was wanted for outstanding assault charges filed by a local hooker. It is the opinion of the court that she wasn't that hot and her resulting sexual inexperience caused her to perform subpar fellatio for which he refused to pay. Boss, along with McMellon and Carroll, were later indicted by the same court for sexual harassment of a minor after evidence was presented a few moments later in the form of a digital video recording revealing what appeared to be Lieutenant Boss hugging Mr. Balkman's shoes for about ten minutes while he groaned, followed by him handcuffing his own penis while both officers McMellon and Carroll tried to roll it into a Phillies brand blunt wrap... the buddha, the buddha. Lil' Balk was seen in the background counting his lettuce like Jerome Betis with a thizz face รก la Eric Gordon Jr. and the Mac Name Dre. Mr. Renaldo B. Balkman was found not guilty, and neither was Mr. Sun G. Coles, who took the charge in the first place as to avoid his father's supplier being put behind bars. Also, here's this:
ADDENDUM FROM [NOW DECEASED] MALE WITNESS AT THE SCENE: "A funky beat, which may well have been "Pass the Bone" by Prince Rakim and the Genius, was heard emanating from an unknown source in or around the domicile. Witness credibility was subject to question, as he insisted on payment in the form of small bills and demanded protective custody, which was not granted because of what appeared to be a glowing red dot, possibly an Indian bindi, constantly following his forehead, though the witness was clearly caucasian. This discrepency led to the witness being released the following morning of April 21st, 1998. Shortly thereafter, the witness was shot dead, further proof that snitches get stitches."
Thus, if a teenaged Balkman teaches us anything, it's that teenagers can be hard as fuck. Or at least some of them can -- and apparently Balk's hair is made out of the most potent sativa on the planet. Needless to say, this phenomenon has proved crucial to Renald-indo's success, both on the hardwood and in the hood. New York City's finest weren't the first to get balked and they most certainly won't be the last. Getting the Wu Nation ripped since July 14th, 1984, when Dirt McGirt and the Tecallion Stallion woke up to the same dream to follow a spiritual calling just to deliver God's Gift to purple on the corner of Targee and Sobel, the Incredible Balk has inspired the new generation of Professional Athlete weedheads, featuring Marquis Daniels, DeMarre Carroll, and the Green Bay Packers' secondary. Of course, they have all had their encounters, much to the chagrin of David Stern, but not his wife, who is a very naughty girl. Women like her, along with celebrities and those familiar with the legend, are always on the look out for an encounter with Balkman's locks, treating them like Zion or Mecca or something a large group of people think is really swell. After all, a mere encounter with the man will get you skinnered beyond belief. And just as sure as Brian Skinner is the worst player in the NBA, when life gives Renaldo Balkman lemons, he breaks off a piece of his own hair and smokes it.
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