Jan 11, 2005 10:03 AM
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Rapper Ol' Dirty Bastard (n
e Russell Jones) may be gone, but his memory lives on. The New Yorker introduces us to a different Russell Jones, a 44 year-old Park Slope man who's been receiving missplaced calls for O.D.B. since 1996:
His fans would dial information and ask for the number of Russell Jones in Brooklyn. They d get the wrong Russell Jones, the one who describes himself as meek and white.
The conversations often unfolded this way:
Yo, Ol Dirty?
No, this is not Ol Dirty, but you have reached Russell Jones.
Oh, are you going to see him later?
The callers always assumed that Jones would somehow run into O.D.B., even after he said he couldn t rap. Most refused to believe him. Where you at? I m gonna come over and hang out with you, they d say. Trust me, you ll be very disappointed when you see me, Jones would reply.
When Russell Jones heard that the rapper had died, he even considered going to the funeral. We never thought we'd see the staid New Yorker write a sensitive and endearing treatment of a hip-hop figure who died of a cocaine and painkiller overdose, but now that they have, we're feeling slightly fuzzy.
Not Dirty [NYer]
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Original material is licensed under a Creative Commons License permitting non-commercial sharing with attribution.