Category Archives: letters

dear dr. drew: a love letter.

i'd love to see YOUR loveline, doctor. HAW HAW HAW!

as i sit here watching you talk to a bunch of kids who had babies, i kind of can’t help myself.  it’s emotional porn, the way you spread your caring around, how you caress those on the stage with the softness of your voice but put a little bass in it when someone decides to get loud and wrong.  the way you lean in and peer into the center of someone’s eyes when they speak.  the way you listen.  like, really, really listen.  sigh.  you speak to that need in me, the unscratchable itch that screams “OMFG I DON’T CARE ABOUT WHATEVER SPORT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT RIGHT NOW.  I JUST NEED TO TELL YOU ABOUT MY DAY, CAN I FUCKING DO THAT, PLEASE?!”  you are the human embodiment of a shopping spree, a walking bowl of chocolate covered winning lottery tickets dipped in good dreams and free foot rubs.  just win.  just so full of win.

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Dear John.

hey, boo.  it’s me, Brokey.

i don’t know if you know it yet or not, but you got the Internets in a bit of a tizzy with that little thing you said in your Playboy interview.  you know, the part about your dick being a white supremacist when it comes to the women you relate with, biblically.  you know what i’m talkin about.  yeah, people didn’t take that too kindly.

well, i mean, look.  i’m an asshole.  i make assholish jokes all the time.  mostly people get them, but sometimes they don’t, and are offended.  i have a feeling that in stating your personal preference (its fine to have a personal pref, btw; i myself, for example, want nothing to do with the French) you made a joke that came off sort of really offensive to SOME black folk.  i won’t say all.  but some.  and i can understand why they’d be offended.

but anyway, the point of this letter is this:  my twitter account is private, and since you’re not following me, you missed all of this.  i’m of the personal opinion that all you need is some good grade A African ancestral vagina to show your penis the the devil in it’s soul and get it to change it’s KKKish ways.  so, in the spirit of Dr. Martin Luther the King, i am willing to take one for my team and put it on you *right.*  i’m pretty sure that my Iron Maiden can show your peen the truth and the light.  i’m willing to do this because it’s what Dr. King would have wanted.

per the discussion you couldn’t see on Twitter, a night spent doing the grownup with me will have you doing each or any combination of the following:

  • singin ‘we shall overcome’ when it’s over
  • naming your 1st born daughter Kujichagulia Assata Angelou
  • renaming yourself El-John Malik El-Shabazz
  • doin free concerts for Centric and TV One
  • running for president on the Rainbow/PUSH Coalition ticket
  • tattooing a vintage ‘COLORED ONLY’ sign on your penis
  • designing the cover of your next album in nothin but kente cloth
  • naming said album ‘WAKE UP, WHITEY’

now i’m not saying that my cooter is life changing, but.  i guess that kind of is what i’m saying.  *kanye shrug*

i implore everyone to join me in this endeavor in honor of black history month.  teach the oppressor your name–and make him/her scream it.

umoja!

love,

Brokey “I’m Lightskinnt But I Still Count” McPoverty

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