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    Michele Bachmann, Unmuzzled

    You don't need to read Sarah Palin's book to hear the ravings of a mad woman.

    By Matt Snyders

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    Pimp Daddy

    The rise and fall of a chubby sex-cult leader.

    By Natalie O'Neill

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    Babe 'n' Arms

    Tom was a hot-tempered cross-dresser with a garage full of guns--and then he became Rachel.

    By Nicholas Phillips

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    The Fight for Texas

    Rick Perry and Kay Bailey Hutchison are locked in a battle over the soul of the GOP. They're also running for governor.

    By Sam Merten

Mean Streets

White boy rapper life hasn't been the Mickey Mouse club

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By Jon Solomon

Published on October 31, 2008 at 4:08am

Mickey Avalon's been through some shit, man. His mom had him selling weed for her when he was just a teenager. She fired him a little while later, though, when she discovered he was shooting up smack at the age of 16. And things got only stickier and trickier from there when he moved to Portland, where he began robbing cats and turning tricks to pay for dope. Avalon eventually got cleaned up and, at the urging of his pal and former MTV personality, Simon Rex (a.k.a. Dirt Nasty), he started writing rhymes, the results of which can be heard on his self-titled debut. Though many of Avalon's raps are downright lame, others, such as "Waiting to Die," are unsettlingly honest: "A street walker selling cock for rock/At the flea market trying to hock my watch/I stay on beat when I work the concrete." Doesn't exactly sound like a rapper's delight.
Sat., Nov. 1, 6:30 p.m., 2008