I can never remember: is it happy 50 Cent day, or merry 50 Cent day?

Notwithstanding his retirement - oh, sorry, that was just some anal-bath bubbling on his part, wasn't it? - Connecticut has been celebrating 50 Cent Day.

It's a bit of a confused message to the kids there, mind. One minute, Fiddy is warning kids not to copy him:

"I don't do drugs," he said. "That was who I was, but I changed direction. My music reflects the early part of my life."

Growing up in Queens, the 32-year-old sold drugs with his grandparents' encouragement, after his mother died. "I got shot five times. But everybody has pain, whether it is from losing a parent or being in a bad relationship. God fits our pain to each person."

So, right, don't follow Fiddy's example, eh, kids?

Only then the mayor's fawning over the size of Cent's pocketbook:

Jackson presented a $25,000 check from his G-Unity Foundation to the Hall Neighborhood House, an early childhood education program that is expanding its performing arts offerings. Director Reggie Walker accepted a large cardboard facsimile check while [Bridgeport mayor John M] Fabrizi joked, "If you add a zero, Reggie, I don't think Curtis will miss it."

So, what exactly is the message here? That Cent has changed, left a life of crime and violence and drugs behind - but he hasn't, has he, because that's what he sells; that's what has raised the cash that the mayor giggles about being in such great supply he could drop off a quarter mill without even noticing. It appears to give the impression you can do what the hell you like, and you'll come away with a few being-shot stories to soft-brag about and a bucket of money.