We should all be pleased to know that niggorance knows no holiday.

When Dem Franchize Boyz set that stack of $100,000 ablaze they slapped every struggling listener—er, umm—WSHH viewer in the face harder than Letisha at your favorite urban radio station’s Mindless Ghetto Violencefest.

--Even if the money was fake as fuck.

No, your eyes aren’t deceiving you. These jiblet-eatin, 9XL tee-wearing-ass niggas really had the balls to set 100 large on fire during the first holiday season of an economic depression. How desperate for attention must these niggas be to set fake money on fire for a YouTube audience they not only acknowledge, but pray exists? Regardless whether or not the stacks are real, please be advised that people with actual money don’t do shit like this. Actual rich niggas are giving up luxuries right now.

Those with Aye-rab money are pumping the brakes, so you know these walking birth control advertisements are doin like fo', five much.

Even if these niggas had finished middle school and possessed the cognitive recognition necessary to understand the statement that one could make by burning money (see: The Dark Knight), I don’t think they’d have the heart to do anything more than set our people back father than Soul Plane did. While I’m pretty sure the shit’s either totally counterfeit or just their GED reader pages with Benjamins rubber-banded to the top, so much more could be said with the time, cameraphone and stizzack.

When I think “recent rap failures likely to be hurting for money” Dem Independently-Owned Subway Franchize Boyz appear toward the top of a long and painful list of names. I can't be alone here. They might have been doomed from the start for having a member with the term “jizz” in his name. Seeing as how I only knew Parlae as “the Eddy Curry look-alike,” and that it’s been years since the last of their handful of hits have run their course, I’m as surprised as you are to witness these boys engaging in such ass-ignorant behavior.

I do love the toothless nigga talking trying to convince the cameras and passers-by that the money is real. A DJ soundtag would have done the trick, though.

On the way to purchasing the lighter fluid for this stunt, doesn’t Franchize Hanger-On #1 have the sense to stop halfway, call--er, umm--Franchize Manager and try to reason with him? I mean, it’s Hanger-On’s strip club money that’s going to incinerate first.

[Blogger’s Note: I almost called Franchize Hanger-On #1 a “weed carrier” until I realized that DFB is a collective of weed carriers. If they weren’t performing “Lean Wit It” somewhere, Michael Vick probably wouldn’t have tried to sneak his own dro resin onto an airplane himself that one time.]

After watching this utterly pathetic shit a couple times, Tyga almost deserves an apology.

Perhaps the greatest irony of all comes in that they’re keeping warm with the blaze. The fucked up part is that my energy bill really costs that fuckin much.

I mean, that’s why I be bloggin and shit. This is how I keeps the lights on... This and the snap energy I generate.

Questions? Comments? Requests? How much debt did you burn yourself into this holiday season? ron@ronmexicocity.com

P.S.: When these niggas is doin debt consolidation and bad credit auto-loan commercials with Soulja Boy, I won't feel bad like how I do for Hammer.

P.P.S.: That won't be until Popeye's or Bojangles start consolidating debt.