The Alf's last post after it's gone through the jive translator

Here's my last post after it's been run through the jive translator.

Not too long ago some homey uh mine and ah' were feedin' da bud lunch togeder, and he told me he'd recently eyeball some numba' of sto'ies by Louis L'Amour. Ah be baaad... Mah' reply wuz, uh course, "Whut? Ain't dat Western? Cowboys and Indians stuff?"

He simply said "Yeah, but it's waaay coo'."

Afta' readin' several uh de "Sacket" series, ah' figured out whut he's rappin' about. Man! De doodad ah' gots out uh it wuz dat some real scribbler kin truly immerse ya' in his wo'ld - make da damn ya' feel de characters' problems, dig it de strengd, de fears, etc. Co' got d' beat! From eyeballin' Louis L'Amour ya' end down wid some real feelin' uh depd into de frontia' of dis country some couple hundred years ago. 'S coo', bro. And, fum whut he scribbles, ah' assho' man ya' it wuz not some matta' of plum some cheesey shoot-em-up tails; but rada' an adventurous treck uh survival on de frontier. Ah be baaad... Sho' man, some sucka's dig blown away wid revolvers, and uh course many uh de sto'ies gots some fine goat involved - but if youse comparin' t'some one-hour-fifteen-minute Western ya' saw on public television in de 90's, oh joker is it some different deal. Whut's mo'e, dis be plum a simple 'esample uh de effect dat some piece uh quality literature kin gots. Dis be an 'espuh'ience ya' plum duzn't dig fum watchin' TV o' eyeballin' some newssheet. And while eyeballin' literature kin in itself pull one away fum reality enough t'disrupt one's life, it be my observashun dat allowin' oneself t'be immersed in one's own self-created reality, guided by de audo', be a much healdia' 'sperience dan some continual co'pse-likes infusion uh some sucka elses pictures fum de television. 'S coo', bro.