Monthly Archives: February 2009

presenting: Mr. Black History Month!

omg its still black history month!  had you forgotten yet??  i hadnt, in spite of what my sparse updating may otherwise suggest.  i didnt forget; im just exercising my right to be blatantly shiftless without having a white man cracking a whip at my earlobes (let us all thank the ancestors for fighting for that right).

its been on my mind, continuously, and i thought to myself, self?  you know what black history month needs?  black history month needs a king and queen.  the competition has been fierce, let me tell you… ive been considering some top contenders, including Tuffy from ‘Bamboozled’ (the guy who sang his heart out about how he be smackin his hoes), Leon (who made love to the silver screen as Little Richard in The Little Richard Story and David Ruffin in The Temptations), and Mr. T.  but it was not until i saw a re-run of the Colbert Report yesterday that  i made up my mind.  or more appropriately, my mind was made up for me.  ladies and gentlemen, i present to you, Mr. Black History Month:  John Fetterman, mayor of Braddock, PA.

i’m sure you’re askin yourself which one is John.  he’s the big white one in the front.  now, i’m sure you’re asking yourself how the fuck some big white dude got crowned Mr. Black History, and i will answer that question to the best of my ability*:

…look at him!  is that not the coolest mayor you’ve ever seen??

okay okay.  let’s start at the beginning.  John Fetterman is six foot fucking eight, three hundred fucking pounds.  though he looks like he could have potentially been kicked out of your friendly neighborhood neo nazi group for being just a little too angry, or like he listens to nothing but ICP all the live long day, Fetterman is a Harvard grad and has an MA in public policy.  his arms are covered in tats, most notable being the dates of deaths that have occurred in the city of Braddock during his tenure as mayor.  yeah, kind of like how your cousin Pookie got ‘RIP MAN-MAN 1976-2009 REAL GANGSTAS DO DIE’ tatted on his back after Man-Man died of complications of being shot in his ass by his girlfriend Raynita.  oh, and you know how members of the Crips purposefully mispell words that have ‘ck’ in them, using double ‘c’s instead?  (ie – ‘trick’ becomes ‘tricc,’ etc)?  …he changed the spelling of the town’s name from Braddock to Braddocc.  no, seriously.  it’s on the freakin website.

no, seriously. this guy is a MAYOR! of a real place!! not a made up one!!

speaking of the website… LOL.  did you SEE it??  when you choose to sell your city by putting a picture of you standing and ice grilling in front of a big pile of something that was destroyed likely by the most depressing societal elemants you can muster… dude.  it looks like it was created by a 15 year old emo kid sittin in the dark in his mom’s basement listening to My Chemical Romance, struggling to find just the right font to use to express the irony and misunderstanding that grips his soul on the regular.  it’s awesome.  it’s so inappropriately awesome.

oh, further evidence that he isnt an excised neo nazi?  the town of braddock/cc is only about 30% white (as of 2000), and his first course of action was not to expell other 70% of the population.  (i should note that the town is 66% black.  dude.  i currently cannot imagine or think of a blacker city/town/state). see?  he likes brown folks!  i dont believe in bestowing honorary blackness on non-black folks but i gotta admit.  if i did, this guy would get it.

all jokes aside tho, this dude is really awesome, and the town itself, the history and all, is pretty interesting, imo. read about itwrite to the mayor!  he’s got a gmail address!  lol!  AWESOME!

*the real answer:  affirmative action.  i got quotas to fill.  😦

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thing that might send me to hell of the day

dear family:

please help me choose my response to this picture.  please choose wisely, as my soul is currently hanging in the balance and the scales will be tipped according to the rightness or wrongness of said response.  thank you.

A) This is wonderful!  Just because he’s in a wheelchair doesn’t mean he can’t have fun.  Kudos to her for including him in the festivities.

B) Get it, shawty!

C) Is she wearing a diaper?  Why does her venus area look so puffy?

D) Sex on wheels!  …literally!

E) BITCH HE CAINT FEEL NOTHIN, STOP TEASING HIM!

about this ‘octomom’ business.

nadeyabelly

pictured (l to r): nadya suleman, misplaced anger, pomp, circumstance, unneccessary drama, hot air, lack of better things to do, overinflated lips, jack black

dear everybody:

please shut the fuck up.

i mean honestly.  i agree, she’s quite batty.  the decisions she made aren’t decisions that i would make.  in fact, i have plans to assemble a band of musically inclined (or not) individuals which i will front, name ourselves Gun-Jumpin’ Johnny and the Poor Decisions, and our first album will be entitled “Nadya Reeeaaaally Fucked Up” and the whole album will be about all the bad decisions she has made in her life.  what i will NOT do, however, is:

-bitch and moan and whine about the website she just set up asking for donations

-make donations to her website because fuck her, i didnt tell her to have them babies

-make death threats (yo, wtf?)

-stand outside her house protesting and looking like a dumbass

now i’ll say again, im not speaking out in defense of nadya suleman.  i’m speaking out in defense of my sensibilities because america seems to find a new way to offend them every damn day.  death threats?  seriously?  wtf is wrong with you people?

if u dont wanna donate, dont donate.  don’t even go to the damn website; i didnt.  im not even gonna link that shit here.  that’s my protest and it suits me just fine.  do you just want something to be mad about?  because if so, there’s still the matter of a certain unarmed hancuffed man executed by a cop in california that could use a good dose of rage.  where were your protests then?  where are they now?  yall get pissed over some babies bein born, but life is lost, again in a totally outrageous yet familiar way, and where yall at?

babys

the back of this sign better read 'POLICIES STOP SHOOT BLACKMAN'

this bitch had some babies & it’s bedlam.  lmao.  gimmie a break!

yall talkin bout death threats.. you know there are punishments worse than death, right?  god already took care of the punishment part:  she has FOURTEEN CHILDREN.  if that aint punishment, then sweet christ on a cruiseship, i dont want to know what is.

for real, all i ask from here out is that some sort of board or watchgroup be set up to make sure that she doesnt take any of the donations she does get and put it on any more wack ass plastic surgery.

other than that?  stfu.  thanks in advance.

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your nappy ass roots: baby hair

chiliwine

AFROs most wanted: Chili & Ginuwine, notorious baby hairers

In 1962, a radical black nationalist organization called the AFROs (Afrikan Foundation for Righteous Out-of-sight Sons) was formed in Cleveland, Ohio.  By 1965, the group had caught the attention of both the FBI and the CIA, who recruited a small group of 5 black women to infiltrate the organization.  One of the women was Rashida Daniels, a licensed hair stylist, who soon fell in love with Bruno “Buddy” Sampson.

Rashida told Buddy of their association with the federal groups, and to help identify the other informants, Rashida decided to give them a sort of Star of David to identify them to the rest of the group.  When she next washed and styled their hair, she took a jar of pro-con gel, an old toothbrush, and a spraybottle of water and plastered some hair to their foreheads in an attempt to emulate the thin, whispy hair that babies have when they are young.  She assured them that they were trendsetters, and when they walked into the AFROs headquarters, they were immediately labled Uncle Toms (and all-around ridiculous for creating baby hair when they weren’t babies no damn more) and run out of town.

From then on, to this very day, those who purposely wear baby hair are considered all-around ridiculous embarrassments to the black race.

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your nappy ass roots: Jesse Jackson

welcome to this year’s first official edition of Your Nappy Ass Roots, a series that will bring you little known black history facts that The Man has tried to suppress in an effort to keep us all complacent, misguided, and misinformed.  i’m all about teachin the babies; please pass these important facts along to any and everybody you know.  this goes for you too, white people.  because its not just black history; it’s OUR history.

first up:  the Reverend Jesse Jackson.

would you, could you, employee? could you back it up on me?

Jesse Louis Jackson, Sr. was born in Greenville, South Carolina on October 8, 1941.  Jesse showed an affinity for poetry at a very early age, completely memorizing the works of William Shakespeare by the age of 14. 

At the tender age of 18, he became a ghostwriter for the renowned Dr. Seuss, who borrowed from some of Jesse’s own works, including “How the White Man Killed the Ghetto” (Every black in the ghetto could have a fair shot/if the White Man would stop feeding them cocaine and pot),” “One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Jew Fish (too offensive to repost here.  sorry.),”  “Black Man’s a Sham (I will not kiss Obama’s butt/I’d rather cut Obama’s nuts!),” and “The Dance of Denial (I would not, could not have a child/outside of wedlock, ’cause that is foul./Okay, I had a little fling/but yall, that baby don’t look like me!).”

He is currently working on a rap album featuring Lil Wayne, T-Pain and Young Somebody entitled “Down with Foes, Up with Hoes” to be released this summer.

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happy black history month from Supervalu grocery store

hi, all!  happy monday to  you!

so you know the big fantastic Great Big Gotdamn Black History Month Extravaganza i’ve been creamin my pantydraws about?  well, id like to quickly thank Supervalu grocery store in Delaware for sponsoring the festivities.  they’re currently having an amazing sale in honor of black history month, so stop on by and partake!  they have specials on everything a black person needs:  cornbread, grape soda pop, glory greens, hot sauce, seasoning salts, jiffy corn muffin mix, aaaaaaaand the crowning glory: obama memorability.

yassuh, you gots everthang yall gon need fo yo black histruh momf party!  git enuff fuh you, yo semn-lemn kids, AND they baby daddies!

why do i have a sudden urge to get up and do the electric slide?  😦

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black music nobody remembers but me: slow love

docboxbfreshim bringin back this feature as a part of my Great Big Gotdamn Black History Month extravaganza.  this installment brings us:  ‘slow love’ by doc box and b. fresh.

i asked a couple of people about this song in the past couple of weeks and nobody remembered it but me.  surprise surprise, huh?  this was my shit tho; its another of the songs i used to sit and watch the jukebox for hours for, waiting for it to come on.  this joint dropped in 1990.  that’s 18 years ago.  i dont want to discuss how old that makes me feel.  i was 8 years old then.  eight!!!!  eight young tender supple years old!!  omg.  i loooooved this song man.  firstly, the beat was and still is bangin.. when it drops in the beginning after dude is like-

‘…buss it.’

what??!  are you kidding me??  if your head is sittin still on your neck when you hear that, then you may have gotten some faulty musical judgement genes and you have my sympathy.  and when i was little i liked dude in the vid because i thought he had pretty hair.  i clearly had no knowledge or concept of the s-curl back then.

anyway, this song stands out to me today because it reminds me that there was a time when you couldn’t say the word ‘breast’ in a song on the radio.  oh yeah.  those days did exist.  tough to believe when you got shit talkin bout ‘she gon let me beat beat beat beat beat’ on the radio these days.  it’s true though.  listen for the censoring around the 2:31 minute mark.  in the middle of the rhymin, debra killings (who is supplying the vocals) randomly and arbitrarily sings ‘baaaay-bee!’ where the word ‘breast’ would/should have been.

i dont remember anything else these two did.  brownie points if anyone else does.  brownie points + my eternal gratitude if anybody else at least remembers THIS song.

anyone?  bueller?