Tag Archives: culture

I Am Not a Threat

threat of race

Image courtesy of Utexas.edu

I am not a threat to your purse.

I am not a threat to your car.

I am not a threat to your economy.

I am not a threat to your safety.

I am not a threat to your store.

I am not a threat to your government.

I am not a threat to your personal comfort.

I am not a threat to your culture.

I am not a threat to your education system.

I am not a threat to your women.

I AM a threat to your expectations.

I am a threat to your glass ceilings.

I am a threat to your oppression.

I am a threat to your entitlement.

I am a threat to your misplaced sense of justice.

I am a threat to your ignorance.

I am a threat to your racism.

I am a threat to your old way of life.

Talking White

I’ve been reading the excellent How to Be Black by Barantunde Thurston, a witty and insightful breakdown of the black experience and navigating childhood and adolescence in suburban Washington, D.C. Essays satirizing befriending African-Americans and realizing when one understood that being black came as a result of a negative experience underscore the mythical essence of blackness.

I grew up black (medical advances help me to cope) in suburban Chicago. I was typically the only black kid in my classes, and I did not encounter many other kids of my race beyond family gatherings. This changed around fifth grade, as kids from Chicago slowly migrated to the suburb of Woodridge. They and I quickly learned that I was not considered one of them, and that was as soon as I opened my mouth.

From then on, I was ostracized for how I talked, accused of wanting to be white because I didn’t use slang or communicate my thoughts in a way that blended in with theirs. I felt ashamed for the longest time as a result, uncomfortable around the company of those migrating from Chicago or suburban kids playing up their so-called blackness. Their ignorance pushed me away, further creating the chasm between the “black kid wanting to be white” because they could not accept me for who I was. I felt a stronger connection with the black students that grew up in the suburbs as a result, as they had experiences similar to mine. But we all struggled.

There is an amendment of blackness that states that a true black person speaks in a way that is unique to the race. This includes using African American Vernacular English (once known by the colorfully racist term “ebonics”), tied to dialects from southern upbringing (i.e. slavery) that have their own pronunciations, verb tenses and vocabulary.

Going against the grain of this is a big no-no in not only the black community, and it is a pox cast upon these rogues by other races as well. This poxening, called “talking white,” is usually done via verbal dressing-down with terms such as Uncle Tom, House Nigger, sellout, bougie, Oreo or whatever other derogatory term used to degrade a black person. No matter the ethnicity of the critic, these culture warriors are using their limited worldviews to suppress the individuality of others to conform to their idea of what a black person should be.

My mom told me a DELIGHTFUL anecdote about my childhood, where my grandmother commented to her about me and my brother “talking white.” My grandmother, a strong woman born and raised in Arkansas, found our speech patterns odd. Her observation was off-putting when listening to it second-hand, and I’m sure that it was awkward when my mom was on the receiving end of it. There was no reason for my grandma to say this, and I assume that she did as a way to comment on her and my father’s parenting. (She wanted us to live in the city at one point.)

Chicago Sun-Times writer John Fountain had a  more pointed experience when an old friend called out his diction and use of English on a voicemail as sounding “like a white boy” and that he had “changed.” The friend (obviously a charming individual) wanted to shame the writer, who he saw as less than black because he no longer spoke in the way that was of comfort to that limited viewpoint, that was considered black.

There is a common thread between this example and the others I have experienced and heard about over the years. These types of judgments come about when one is threatened by something that is not familiar. And perhaps using such criticism is a way of intimidation against what they do not understand. Fountain delivered an excellent editorial on the subject of African-Americans and its handling of intelligence in the culture, and there are many parallels to the use of intimidation in the presence of the unknown. Everything from homophobia to good-old fashioned misogyny stems from a lack of comprehension of and limited experience involving people unlike the observer. Smart kids are bullied by less-than-intelligent bullies. Men and women have homophobic epithets yelled at them by knuckle-dragging assholes that may be wrestling with their own sexuality. They’re more related than dissimilar.

If it is not already clear, I am not excusing these people for their ignorance; in fact, I am condemning them for it. I’ll keep it hundred: if you make fun of someone for being smart, your lack of intelligence reflects poorly on you; if you call someone “fag” or consider something “gay,” your lack of insight into your use of words is more damning than your limited brain functions. And saying that someone “talks white” is your own racism, ignorance and fears of your own inferiority as a person, your narrow cultural view trapping you in a hate-filled, self-loathing life.

(Reposted from Nataliedee.com)

Whether you say it in jest to a friend or family member, you’re revealing yourself as an ineffectual human being, unable to accept people with experiences unique to your own. And really, you should look at yourself in the mirror: does raining down your judgement on someone else make you feel better about yourself? If it does, you’re a waste of human life; if it doesn’t, you’re still a waste of human life. And yes, you can change, gain more life experiences and improve your life view for the better, and that’s great and everything. But when it comes after you make someone feel inferior because of your words, shaming them into being lesser than you because they don’t conform to your limiting compartmentalization of them, making them less a human and more a caricature of a person, you should fuck off. Or least apologize.

Blackness is an evolving state of being, and like every other aspect of life, progress comes from an enlightened viewpoint. Life is awful enough without having those close to you (in your community, among your friends or family) being taken down a peg because you can’t comprehend someone that doesn’t walk, talk and act exactly like you. Get off your high horse and get out among other people before you spout off uninformed life lessons.  Get your head out of your ass, adapt to the variety in the world, and stop degrading your fellow human beings, for fuck’s sake.

Should “Icelanders” Get a Room? (Even in America?)

(The inspiration for this op-ed is posted HERE.)

The other day, my third personality asked me, “Do you really think people feel uncomfortable when they see Icelandic people making out anywhere?”

Because I can be kind of naive— I’m not much of a social person — I had no idea what she was talking about, so she steered me to this interweb article, about the Iceland romantic sitcom Ástríður. As Sagafilm informs me, Ástríður “is a new and exciting romance tv show, full of romance and drama with fun reference to the Icelandic reality right before the bank crisis.” Sounds entertaining!

My initial response was: Hmm, being Icelandic is one thing — those people are downright Norse! And while I think our country’s obsession with non-Icelandic people is unhealthy, I also think it’s at least equally crazy, albeit in the other direction, to be implicitly promoting Icelandic people! Yes, being Icelandic is sick, but at least some pro-Icelandic people are simply naturally Icelandic. No one who is as Icelandic as Ástríður can be tolerable. And Icelandics are costing our country far more in terms of all the related foreign relations we are paying for, by way of our tolerance, than any other foreign relations problem, even acceptance.

So anyway, yes, I think I’d be grossed out if I had to watch Icelandic people with generations and generations of Icelandic genetics kissing each other … because I’d be, like, totally grossed out and stuff if I had to watch them doing ANYTHING. To be brutally honest (you know, hurtfully honest in a devastating way), even in real life, I find it culturally displeasing to watch a very, very Icelandic person simply walk across a room — just like I’d find it distressing if I saw a very Brazilian person talk Portuguese or a Mexican person eating a taco.

Now, don’t go getting the wrong impression: I have a few friends who could be called Icelandic. Some of my best friends are Icelandic! I’m not some Iceland-ist jerk! And I also know how tough it can be for truly Icelandic people to psych themselves up for the long process of losing their cultural identity. (At my workplace for instance, Icelandic music star Björk has tried to be relevant to Americans to no use, because she’s been Icelandic for as long as she can remember.)

But … I think being Icelandic is something that most people have, like, a ton of control over and whatever. It’s something they can change, if only they put their minds and wish real hard for it to go away.

Ewww... she's so... Icelandic!

(I’m happy to give you some cultural de-synthesizing if you need them — but long story short, eat more red meat, read US Weekly and avoid foods with any kind of foreign-sounding name that isn’t a chemical, increase the amount of gravy you’re getting, get some kind of bacon for 30 minutes at least five times a week, and do everything you can to stop learning more — even while using your computer — and yell more. I admit that there’s plenty that makes being less Icelandic tough, but YOU CAN DO IT! Trust me. It will take some time, but you’ll also feel so less foreign, physically and emotionally. A NASCAR fan or Tea Party member will help — and if you can’t find one, visit your local Walmart for some advice.)

Some would call the main character of "Mr. Bjarnfredarson" an Icelandic sex symbol. Those people would be Icelanders.

Then again, I guess these people are from a desolate European country. So … points for trying?

Then again, I tend to think most Icelandic people like those on Ástríður are a kind of inferior-type being. Shunning their antics like kissing gives us an excuse to turn off both our brains and our exposure to these weird human-like beings and probably does a helluva lot to contribute to the Icelandic problem in society, over all. So … I don’t know.

What do you guys think? Icelandic making out anywhere in public — are you cool with it? Do you think I’m being an ignorant horse’s ass?

UPDATE: I would really like to apologize for the insensitive things I’ve said in this post. I mean, REALLY apologize. Believe it or not, I never wanted anyone to feel bullied or ashamed after reading my rant about filthy Icelandic people, and I sorely regret that it upset people so much. A lot of what I said was unnecessary. It wasn’t productive, either — though it fulfilled my quota for my paycheck.

I know a lot of people truly struggle with being Icelandic — for medical and intellectual reasons — and that many people have an incredibly difficult time getting to a non-Icelandic state. I feel for those people and I’m truly sorry I added to the unhappiness and pain they feel because they somehow finding my article.

I would like to reiterate that I think it’s great to have people of all nationalities and cultures represented in society (as, it bears mentioning here, they are in US Weekly) and on TV shows — and that in my post, I was talking about a couple that featured Icelandic people who are not simply a little Icelandic, but appear to be morbidly Icelandic . (Morbid Icelandicity is defined as 100 percent more than their ideal Icelandic genetic makeup.)  And for whatever it’s worth, I feel just as uncomfortable when I see an Icelandic person as I do when I see someone who is morbidly Turkish, because I assume people suffering from foreign cultures on either end of the spectrum are doing damage to their chance to be happy, non-foreign Americans, and that they are unhappy. But perhaps I shouldn’t be so quick to judge based on superficial observations.

To that point (and on a more personal level), a few commenters (family, mostly) and one of my personalities mentioned that my extreme reaction might have grown out of my own culture issues, my history as an Icelandic person, and my life-long obsession with being non-Icelandic. As I mentioned in the ongoing screamings we’ve been carrying on in the comments section, I think that’s an accurate insight.

People have accused me of being a dickface in my post. I never intended to be that — it’s actually the very last thing I want to be, as a writer or a person. But I know that I came off that way, and I really cannot apologize enough to the people whom I’ve offended by my “Hitler-like shit spewing.”

Ladies, Want to Bedazzle Your Va-jay-jay?

I was browsing Facebook on a Sunday morning when I stumbled onto an advertisement that defied logic for many reasons. Like alcohol sales, this should have been locked down until at least 10 a.m.:

I wasn’t aware that Facebook allowed companies to sell vagina-decorating products to preteens and idiots distracted by shiny things. There are so many things baffling about this ad that it deserves to be broken down (the lack of punctuation in this ad will be spared):

1. Vajazzling

Enough with making up words that even a child wouldn’t say. I know that television train-wreck Grey’s Anatomy popularized the word va-jay-jay (along with cultural milestones/retardants McDreamy and McSteamy) to cutesy up the more clinical-sounding vagina, and that is only the tip of the iceberg of my hypothesis of American culture regressing in maturity.

If we’re going to talk truths about gussying up the downstairs, be upfront and don’t call it “Vajazzling.” It may not capture that critical moron customer base, but it will lend any fleeting credibility to your business of vagina icing. And the use of a Facebook ad to sell the service is like watching a Jay Leno monologue: It is a punchline you see coming a mile away, and yet the results still elicit pity.

2. WHY?

My quandary is why — WHY — the craft hobby of bedazzling — long the pastime of girls and Disco Stu — is now being farmed out to beauticians in the art of scorching the lady-Earth. Do they want their genitals to feel like royalty? Do they want the pick-up line of men being able to see themselves in the woman’s pants (via Windex) to be partially true because of the shine? Is there some subset of Cosmopolitan readers that believe that blinging their lady-bits will lure men into their love caves? (BTW, that is the type of man you DON’T want spelunking in your love cave.)

"Disco Stu doesn't advertise."

I am not a woman (I just checked to be sure; pass!) so I can’t pretend to understand the thinking behind embellishing the baby-maker, and I know that piercing genitals is already out there. I don’t understand why adorning one’s vagina needs to be done with Sawarovski crystals. Do they need to center their chi? Is Spencer Pratt of The Hills behind this shit? I haven’t heard of men giving their junk tribal tattoos — though who knows what UFC marketers will do next — or testicle necklaces, so clearly we are the more simple sex.


Who would say this with a straight face besides a Grey’s or E! viewer? Seriously.

If you know anyone that even considers getting their vagina Vajazzled, ask them if the waxer also hermetically sealed their genitalia. I’ve backed off my stance on procreation licenses, but these people really should not breed. (Some will slip through,  and we can only hope those children won’t do too much societal damage.)

The only reason I can see for getting a Vajazzle is if you are a stripper. Sure, the sight of a nude woman should be enough for the dollar bills to fly, but perhaps that classy combination of clear-heeled shoes and vagina crystals will “make it rain.”

"Ooh, girl, you disgusting!"

Getting a Vajazzle is like wearing a Git-R-Done t-shirt: You are willfully letting people perceive you as not having competent thinking skills. If that is your goal, congrats! My magic 8-ball predicts some Sawarovski crystals in your future. Git-R-Done.

EXPOSE: The REAL* Reason Black Men Are Hard to Find

A little over a year ago, Barack Obama became the first African-American President of the United States. A week later, comedian Steve Harvey’s self-help book, Act Like a Lady, Think Like a Man, hit store and internet shelves. The good is always outweighed by the bad.

In the last 16 months, Harvey has become the go-to voice for relationship advice in the Black community — like reverends Al Sharpton or Jesse Jackson being consulted on why Black people smoke menthol cigarettes or hate the word “lynch.” While most cultures don’t have the painful self-analysis, self-loathing and tarnished history that African-Americans have in the United States, they also don’t have all types of media poking and prodding about every facet of their lives like a dissected frog in biology class.

For someone who cut their teeth on the comedy circuit and wore a hideous toupee until recently, it is interesting that someone like Harvey, with no discernible  qualifications in sociology, psychology or picking quality projects, is now the leading expert on why Black women ain’t findin’ no good Black men. It would be like rapper Jay-Z being a consultant on why African-Americans love them some alcohol. Like Harvey, Mr. Z wouldn’t seem like the most knowledgeable person on the subject aside from being an occasional partaker of and profiting on the product of conversation, and yet white people would be enthralled by his lone words that would therefore encompass every thought of every African-American, so say we all. But I digress.

For a comedian that prides himself on being old-school (in other words, a fuddy-duddy), Harvey’s views are taken as gospel without considering many modern ideas and facts. In particular, television network ABC aired a wrist-slitting examination in December on the “problem” of single Black women being unable to trap them a man. And in modern culture, there are some startling changes afoot: Did you know that Black men dress (sports jerseys, jewelry, baggy clothes) that are turnoffs to women, degrade Black women in songs and are more likely not to take care of their kids? This may or may not be true because Harvey said so.

The media is quick to throw out hypotheses in the form of shockingly ignorant questions wondered aloud like they woke up in the middle of class. And true to form, I will now do the same.

Basically, what Harvey is getting at is that the real men Black men are hard to find because the average African-American man is a frighteningly-closeted gay — or, in FOX News speak, “ARE BLACK MEN BONKERS FOR BONERS?”

Let that sink in for a few seconds.

Have you been revived? Good. Let’s take a mind journey with our brain tissues.

1. Black men dress for other men

Jerseys, jewelry, bandannas, expensive shoes, grillz and gangsta muumuus: Based on the media depictions and popularized images of African-American gangsta culture, Black men are one-step away from standing on the sewer grate like Marilyn Monroe.

Harvey mentioned in a panel on Black relationships panel about men dressing to impress other men. Unlike the idea of women dressing their best because of peer pressure from other women, a Black man wearing clothes that appeal to and curry them in favor of their fellow men clearly means that they are hot for cock. Men picking wardrobe items that are tasteful, restrained and mature are all about the ladies, AMIRITE?

2. Black men love drama

The quintessential stereotype that women and gay men love to discuss and observe (and even participate in) dramatic situations is true — because stereotypes ARE true, right, golfer/racist Fuzzy Zoeller? And this is the most present in the rap world with feuds between artists. Who doesn’t remember the verbal sparring between Jay-Z and Nas? Notorious B.I.G. and Tupac Shakur? 50 Cent and The Game? Those are a small sample of the beefs that have plagued hip-hop culture since a young Kool Moe Dee dissed the Beastie Boys.


While Biggie and 2Pac died for their cat-fights, most rappers are energized creatively when they can take their bickering to the stage and mic, spitting verses about their arguments like a shoe sale (or whatever stereotypical woman thing that women stereotypically fight over). Some hug it out (Jay-Z, Nas) and some sulk like the loser girl at prom (50 Cent, The Game), but they all get off on it like a pornstar. (Rufus Wainwright’s gaydar, currently aimed at 50 Cent, is especially interesting.) Hell, even the word “beef” can be misconstrued for penis, and boy do those rappers love them some beef.

3. Black men love forbidden fruit

I recently satirically chided Essence magazine and Jill Scott’s editorial on Black men dating outside of their race. The increasing trend of African-American men dating women of different ethnic and cultural backgrounds may look like a result of crumbling social and societal barriers of progressive outlooks on race relations in the U.S., but really it’s a big-ass metaphor for having a tang for wang.

Think about it. It is human nature for people to want what they can’t have. And in the more traditional African-American community, being gay is up there with country music and mayonnaise as something no one wants to be associated with. So the next best thing is to do something a little less taboo — courting a women of a different race. While those men are hopping on white women like a soccer mom at a Bed Bath and Beyond blowout sale (there’s the stereotype!), they are really wishing their partner could “wangle a new dangle.”

This also explains the hatred and degradation of black women in popular rap and hip-hop songs. Why talk lovingly about someone you’re not attracted to when you just want some man-meat? Darn those Black women and trying to steal Black men from other men. HOW DARE THEY.

"You've gotta dangle, have a new angle, wangle a new dangle on life"

Now, I know that my viewpoints may be considered crazy, wacky or dangerous, and for that I am thankful because that means you read the whole thing. But let this be a wake-up call to the African-American community: Until Black men individually speak for themselves, so-called experts like Harvey will speak for them, and we armchair therapists can boast about their secret, unspoken desire of slobberin’ for knobberin’. Until then, you can pick up my new self-help book, Think Like a Dingo, Act Like a Cougar: How to Troll for Old White Women, and fund my efforts to live forever. Thank you.

*The preceding blog may or may not be real.

Being a “White” Black Man

(Taken from a previous blog, More Thoughts on Race and Online Dating.)

It is amazing to me that people can claim that racism no longer exists in America. I know that some narrow-minded individuals believe that they did their duty to eliminate that dark elephant in America’s room by electing Barack Obama, but they merely draped a giant cloth over it.

If you want to see just how racist Americans can still be, look no further than the African-American community. We are gruesomely racist against each other to the point of holding each other back. And nothing is more ignorant and hateful than to call a black person white. Bouji, Oreo, Uncle Tom: those are some of the harsh nicknames we have for our own brothers and sisters that don’t comply with society’s view of what a black person should be. That self-hatred is damaging.

The image many people have of African-Americans.

I’ve dealt with ignorant people that had ill-conceived ideas of black people my whole life. From kids wondering why I didn’t listen to rap music, to being mistaken for British because I pronounce my words, I’ve had my own uphill battle with those that grouped black people by media-forced images. Some of my friends have joked with me about this. I’ve had black peers in junior high and high school pretend to be my friends while hurting me emotionally and physically, making me the butt of their jokes. Even my ex-girlfriend (a Hungarian woman) made an unfortunate “joke” about me acting white despite me being black. Her comment hurt more than nearly any other, as I gave her my love and trust, and got an ignorant comment in return.

Some would say "Oreo." I say "jackass."

And then there are those that have called me that delightful n-word simply based on the color of my skin. Those were the worst experiences of all.

I wish that I was making this up.

No matter where someone lives, how they act or what they like, they will always be an African-American. Those roots can never be escaped. Black people that “act white” is an unfortunate viewpoint of a person so shallow, ignorant and with little insight, it magnifies the problems that we ALL face as a culture — not just the black community, which has a deep-seated problem with putting down people of their own heritage due to low self-esteem brought on by self-hatred from themselves, their families, friends, the black community and negative stereotypes. And that is just the tip of the iceberg.

More Thoughts on Race and Online Dating

A few weeks ago, I blogged about a recent OKCupid! blog about race factoring into member preference in dating. I felt that while the methods of data measurement were suspect, it opened up an interesting dialogue on racial relations and preferences in America post-Obama election.

Oh, America.

Too bad that these conversations are few and far between, as we continue to see a blatant prejudice in partner preference. In my occasional strolls online, I waded through the gutter known as the Craigslist Personals. And boy, there were some doozies that made me want to bite kneecaps.

For example, a coffee lover wrote:

I’m spending the day relaxing and regrouping. Later in the evening, I’m planning on going to one of the several Starbucks in town. And I wouldn’t mind some company that could lead to a friend with benefits and/or something more situation.

I’m a small full-figured black woman who has a job, no kids or drama, my own place, and my own car. I could just use the occasional company of a single WHITE male between the ages of 30-48. (I seem to have a thing for engineers, so that could be a bonus for you.) I work 2nd shift, so it’s sometimes hard to meet a non-Wal-mart employee and a man that is willing to make an effort to keep up an easy situation.

So I look forward to hearing from you. Please include a picture.

Damn. At age 29, I barely missed the cut-off for her requirements. Also, I’m not WHITE.

I know that people have their ideal partner picked out in their minds, but most mask their racial hang-ups behind polite remarks about “having conservative values,” “thinking that Tucson, Arizona is too liberal” (true story) and similar treats.

I think that the next online dating ad I write will weed out unwanted correspondences by including that I seek a “single female with GYNORMOUS HOO-HOOS.” After all, having big ol’ breasteses automatically means that a woman is infinitely more desirable and therefore better as a human being than someone with only decent breasticles.

You can replace the breast talk with race, and this analogy still applies.

Hey, speaking of race (STILL? I know, impatient reader. I’m almost done.), here’s another shining pillar of humanity wondering where all the sexy tall black men at:

I am trying to find out where all the sexy black men hang out. I am looking for a black man that embraces his roots and is not trying to act white. A man that can get down at the club and rub up on me or just chill and watch a game. I like a man that knows what he wants and goes after it.


Let’s break this down:

1. I am trying to find out where all the sexy black men hang out.

Looking on Craigslist for the super-secret hang out of the sexy black men is the first mistake. At best, you’ll find a moderately decent black man, and they sure as hell won’t divulge where the sexy black man clubhouse is. (Hint: it ain’t in Scottsdale, where this person lives.) Second, thinking that there is some forest meadow where sexy black men frolic is the most ignorant thing I’ve read in some time — and that includes the racist Louisiana judge with “piles” of black friends. I honestly hope she finds this mystical fairytale of a black man bordello, and is kicked out on her face.

2. I am looking for a black man that embraces his roots and is not trying to act white.

I am punching a pillow as I write this. It hurts. SO MUCH.

Watch out, Beyonce! White-acting brotha be wantin' the white meat!

I am curious about what constitutes these “roots” that are so desperately in need of embracing. Considering that the person asking thinks there is an invisible fortress where black men are bringing sexy back, I would guess that these “roots” include the common images of black men that they probably internalize: being straight-up gangsta and acting hard, using slang as the main form of communication, dressing in such ways that a crazy-ass white person wouldn’t dress, and having a comical hatred for the white man.

I’ve dealt with ignorant people that had ill-conceived ideas of black people my whole life. From kids wondering why I didn’t listen to rap music, to being mistaken for British because I pronounce my words, I’ve had my own uphill battle with those that grouped black people by media-forced images. Some of my friends have joked with me about this. I’ve had black peers in junior high and high school pretend to be my friends while hurting me emotionally and physically, making me the butt of their jokes. Even my ex-girlfriend (a Hungarian woman) made an unfortunate “joke” about me acting white despite being black. Her comment hurt more than nearly any other, as I gave her my love and trust, and got an ignorant comment in return.

And then there are those that have called me that delightful n-word simply based on the color of my skin. Those were the worst experiences of all.

So these “roots” are those that can never be escaped. As for black men that “act white?” That is an unfortunate viewpoint of a person so shallow, ignorant and with little insight, it magnifies the problems that we ALL face as a culture — not just the black community, which has a deep-seated problem with putting down people of their own heritage due to low self-esteem brought on by self-hatred from themselves, their families, friends, the black community and negative stereotypes. And that is just the tip of the iceberg.

You want a black man who won’t “act white.” How about you stop acting like a bigot?

3. A man that can get down at the club and rub up on me or just chill and watch a game.

Is that all black men are good for — grinding on your dumb ass at the club or enjoying sports? Well, DAMN MASSA! Break out the leash, because I wants to please you at the club, MISS! I loves me some basketball, miss! I don’t have the insight to enjoy other activities that require mental or physical exertion besides putting that orange ball through the hoop! Oh LAWD!

Seriously, get out more.


4. I like a man that knows what he wants and goes after it.

Does this include a sexy black man that knows that he wants a 40-ounce and steals it? Because based on this shit I’ve been reading so far, I wouldn’t be surprised.

I would LOVE to see the responses this Craigslist ad gets, especially if it’s one of these imaginary sexy black men that congregate in secret, waiting to be found by dim-witted women from Scottsdale that hate those white-acting Negroids.

This stuff is why race will continue to be an issue in dating — let alone American society — for a long time to come. While it’s good to weed out the racist idiots for what they are, the prevalence for such attitudes — and the brazen confidence to display it openly — shows that we are far from the racial progress some people believe we have achieved because a black man is president of the United States.

Riding in Cars with Weirdos 2: The Time Machine

There are so many consumer products that express our personalities, from clothing to creepy figurines stored in menageries. One of the most expensive — and therefore most often used — examples of expression is the automobile. Whether it is the decorations adorning the hunks of metal and rubber, to the threat the machine poses on the roads due to its driver, cars are the heaviest and most visible ways people show who they really are.

Here are a few examples of said means of making a statement:

Car Port Holes

Makes your car an even bigger eyesore!

Remember the stately cars of the ’50s and ’60s, awash in chrome like a shimmering pond? Most likely, those Cadillac and Buick luxury yachts of old had port holes, square or circular holes (usually three or four) running along the sides of the car above the front wheels. They signified elegance, power and decadence.

Today, that aire of richness is gone, as you can see these former glories on Chrysler Lebarons, Ford Tempos and Dodge Neons. You can buy them in bulk at your local car supply store or — GASP! — Wal-Mart, giving every wannabe baller the means to show off their fake bling. And like said wanna-balla, they will hog the lanes of the highway, doing whatever they damn well please with no care in the world. And why should they? They have their pimpin’ port holes!

Car Reindeer Horns

Santa’s forgotten reindeer: Volksjackass.

Stressed to find things to accessorize with your cheesy Christmas sweater? How about your cheesy car?! Now you can embarrass yourself AND your family members by dressing your ride like a robotic reindeer of death. After all, your car can’t fight off the whims of the holiday cheer — though some would consider it automobile cruelty — and why should it?

Another reason why you won’t see this monstrosity in the skies with Dasher and Blitzen? Because their drivers are goddamn slow! Best to leave them in the slowpoke lane, lest you want to curse out the owner and unfortunate victim of owner abuse. And why would you? THAT’S not very Christmasy.

Car Bullet Holes

Need to show everyone at your high school or mixed martial arts class how hard you are? Slap some of these babies on your ride and bask in the terrorist fist jabs of respect!

Perhaps some people think of fake bullet holes as speed holes to make their cars faster, and those people would be morons. Also moronic: their affinity for reckless driving. Don’t be surprised to see a few dings alongside those bullet holes, as the car is most likely a hooptie. And if they don’t care about the car and how silly it looks, you should care about your safety that much more.

In Memory Of

Rachel’s ghost hands, trying to escape her tomb.

Want to immortalize a loved one or friend but don’t have the cash for a casket? Then turn your car into a graveyard shrine on wheels with vinyl decals! Yes, companies prey upon the grief of humans with tacky stickers — which people buy! These same people display their grief for drivers to see for years to come! And it’s totally creepy!

And these drivers expect you to care about their car, their lives and their loss — by driving SLOW AS HELL. It’s like they’re driving the hearse to their family member’s grave site, and we’re the grievers in the parade. A few speed holes will get them moving.

Ridiculous Stickers

Such the drinking apparatus for an uptown gentleman!

Comedian Patton Oswalt once said that half of the United States has an I.Q. of 100 and over. Somehow, we’ve allowed those of double-digit intelligence drive 1.5 ton metallic and steel contraptions — let alone decorate them with whatever thoughts their brains rub together like kindling to function.

See the mug above? I saw this statement on someone’s pickup truck a few months ago in vinyl decals. Never mind that the guy probably wasn’t husband of the year; this isn’t the statement you want to show off to potential dates/ex-wives to come. And they will drive like you were coming after them for alimony. So classy!

Brake Nutz

THIS is why the terrorists hate our freedom.

Speaking of classy, this is not that. AT ALL. From the creators of Truck Nutz, those elegant replicas of dangling testicle flesh, comes the most moronic display of male genitalia… for the next six months when something even more stupid comes out.

Yes, when you want to warn people when you are about to slow down, let them focus their eyes on your red, angry glowing balls! Hey, at least someone in that truck will have them!

While these are generalities made at the expense of ordinary people, you have been warned. Be wary and a defensive driver, and you too can live to tell the tales of the weirdos.

For the Love of Shyness

When I seek background chatter and there is nothing else entertaining on television, I will occasionally slum it to VH1, letting the utter stupidity of Celebreality pollute the air while I write. While the exaggerated personalities — with their puffed-up sexuality, ignorance, greed and vulgarity — provide spirited foils to my activities, one show halted my work and killed all creativity: For the Love of Ray J.

This soul-sucking antithesis of everything decent and noble in the world, starring the 28-year-old celebrity leech/actor/singer/wannabe pornstar/creep and brother of singer Brandy Norwood, featured 14 women vying for fame and fortune love while degrading themselves in the process. One of the women (Lil’ Hood? Chardonnay? White Zinfandel?) was a bit quieter than her loud-mouthed, obscene peers, and this perplexed the slimy lothario, wondering how to get the bizarrely-nicknamed actress love seeker to open up (in more ways than one?). His attitude towards her and her apprehensiveness was almost like a billiards player examining a tough shot, a doctor inspecting a leper.

Mothers, hide your daughters and orifices!

I did not stick with the show to see if the timid flower revealed her personality (and other things) to the titular jerkstore, but one thing did stick out: Ray J’s anxiousness towards the introverted girl is an attitude that many Americans share, labeling their coy personalities as weaker and even something to fear and distrust, and it is a problem in society.

Shyness goes by many names — diffidence, timidity, social anxiety — and can be traced to numerous factors, including genetics and environment. Certain activities and/or people, and affect people can trigger the feelings of uneasiness in social situations in different ways — including mental illness. It’s a shame that, like the person referenced earlier, shyness is rarely understood and often suspect.

For a culture that values individuality and (ironically) uniqueness, Americans learn early that being shy is attributed to weakness, seen in geeks and similarly socially-inept/flawed/dangerous beings. Not being boisterous is often perceived as lacking self-confidence; being thoughtful instead of brash is interpreted as lacking assurance.

As a result, most people don’t know how to approach the seemingly timid, wondering whether they are aloof, cold, mute or plain, uptight assholes. This is often further from the truth. The introvert is often more modest and thoughtful of their feelings, surroundings and perceptions, often taxed — emotionally and physically — by social stimuli that the extrovert may feed off of for sustenance. There are millions of people that are introverted — many who hide it well under a mask of outspokenness — and bring much to the table in intelligence, passion and kindness, and because of not lining up with the uniform notion of the extroverted model, are seen as inferior beings.

See what you did to this poor girl?!

And pop culture, as it does, tends to blow up these inner fears and misunderstandings in a big-screen way. Whether it is the poindexter that is bullied or the murderer that lived quietly in one’s neighborhood (“He seemed to keep to himself”), the less assured are painted with a broad brush of pity, scorn and uncertainty. Resulting attitudes range from anxiousness (“You have to be afraid of the quiet ones”) to confusion, which further deflates the self-esteem and confidence of the person on the receiving end of these beliefs. Try to find a song, movie or book detailing the positive attributes of the reserved personality. (Though Diana King’s song, “Shy Guy,” sees the demure man as one that will be her love and her friend — never mind anything else he might bring to the table.)

It’s funny that some other cultures do not have the same aversion to the traits of the more reserved. The stereotype of Americans in many places is that of loud-mouthed, foolish hooligans (not the soccer/football fans) that act before they think — a far cry from their humble peer. It’s a different extreme, certainly, but that which can be viewed equally.

Really, though, it is not such a bad thing to think through situations before acting, having a greater sense of empathy or not following the crowd? Personally, I like the fact that while I am slow to warm up to people, I will process information and my surroundings before engaging, that I can sense emotions before acting, and that I take the feelings of others into consideration with my behavior. Being a wallflower has given me that sense of introspection (sometimes a bit too much), and makes me the person I am. No shame in that.

Do what the funny picture says!

But the question remains: how do you interact with a shy person? Like engaging with other human beings! (Strange, huh?) Being able to connect with anyone on a personal level involves taking the time and effort to understand a person’s core. Introvert or extrovert, you won’t fully know someone on first glance — ignoring the instant gratification that our society increasingly demands — and you have to put in time and work to get to know a person for who they really are. And while the quiet type might look like a challenge at first, breaking down that barrier and seeing the person within can be as rewarding — if not more so — as stripping away the shell of the more sociable.

So while the Ray J’s of the world might not be able to handle a shy person, a little time and effort will reward those who truly see themselves as human beings. Throw the negative perceptions out the window — even of those you might have of yourself – and you might find some comfort in the reserved.

Sarah Palin: The GILF of Terror

(WARNING: May contain graphic language and imagery.)

The 2008 elections have come and gone, and yet there is one thing lingering from the battle… like a fart trapped in a car, looking to escape. No, it is not Barack Obama, who is now President: it is Sarah Palin.

Palin, who is on the verge of getting a book deal about her life and time on the campaign trail, is, two months after the election, still somehow getting press coverage.

While selling a book will net her a good amount of camera time for a short time, she is getting even more, longer-lasting attention from the internets, horndogs who think it is awesome to refer to her as a MILF or — BLEEGGHHH — a GILF.

“We’re going to Taco Bell, down at the border!”

Let’s think about this for a second: the woman who claims to be able to see Alaska from her house is an object of lust, quoted as the subject of creepy male fantasies often as Britney Spears was back in 1999. These guys boast about wanting to stick their “wango-tango” in the “mosh tequila” of a dark, black void of utter stupidity.

Furthermore, I am failing to see the attraction to Palin. On a superficial level, she is an average-looking woman, but on a personality level, she is as appealing as Mickey Rourke’s liver. To think about even wanting to spend more than five minutes in her presence is akin to wanting aspirin for a painkiller after open heart surgery.

And to drive the point home, the five kids that emerged from that womb of witlessness have not yet proven whether they will follow in their mother’s footsteps of foolishness. That might be something for those dudes to think about if the condom breaks during their horizontal bop-she-bop: that accidental pregnancy might grow up into an equivalent dim bulb, unable to admit to not being able to read magazines — let alone sentences.

She thought this was a giant soap bubble. The results saddened her.

So think about this, REALLY think about this before spouting off such statements of idiocy. While it may have been funny within that inner circle of friends that uses 2001 slang, it fails to be funny when you have to question whether that union would produce something even more dumb than the two people in question.


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