As you all know, there are very few people I hate. It’s a small club, including the likes of Celine Dion, Dick Cheney, and the entire population of Manyunk. One of the members of that club is, of course, P. Diddy, a worthless talentless hack who would be nothing if he hadn’t ridden in on Biggie’s coattails (quick, name a great song Puffy has produced since 1997). So the following paragraph in Rolling Stone magazine (from a great story on the cover up by the LAPD in the Biggie murder) only added fuel to the fire. Hopefully, it will help you learn to hate this man as much as I do.
The man who would be Diddy had failed to fully cooperate with the investigation of B.I.G.’s death ever since it had begun back in 1997. Notorious B.I.G. was not only the Bad Boy label’s biggest earner, but also, supposedly, one of Combs’ closest friends. Yet Puffy had made it clear from the start that he would be doing nothing to help police solve the murder. Gregory Young, who had been sitting next to B.I.G. when he was shot to death, told Poole that Combs went so far as to tell the other members of the Bad Boy entourage that “if our names even appear on a witness list, we’re out of a job.” And now, suddenly, the other witnesses who were in the vehicle with B.I.G. on the night of his death also seemed to be losing their memories.