Happy Black History Month!! Today We Salute… Our 1%

Today I would like to take time and personally thank the 1% in the Black community.  Our 1% is not like the country’s 1%, our 1 Percent’ers are making a difference.  We all must thank EVERY person that is working everyday to make our communities better places for our kids, our grandparents and for us all. All of you deserve acknowledgement… Thank you and thank you too.  Both of you are doing an underwhelming job of changing our neighborhoods.

Two people, yep that’s all.  Where ever you go across the country in any Black community you will find both of them.  One of them creates a community garden so everyone can pick fresh herbs and ripe tomatoes, organizes a day to clean up the park or the main street.  They go and check on the sick neighbors and bring them food.  If something horrible happens in the community and news camera’s show up, they speak glowingly of the good in the community while providing factual information around the incident that attracted the news crews to show up to the block.

What do they get for their efforts?  The day the community garden was to open up, everyone walks out to find the garden has already been raided by the people in the community.  Nobody knows who did it, but everyone talks about how good their “fried green tomatoes are going to taste tonight”.  The day to clean up the park or the street… nobody shows up.  While out cleaning the garbage out the street the police show up and issue them a citation for not obtaining a permit from the city to be in the street and then union reps representing the workers that should be doing the work show up yelling at the good-heartened citizen about how they are taking dollars out the pockets of city workers that need their jobs.

The day to clean up the park, well that went fine only problem was as soon as they finished cleaning the school let out across the street and all the kids walked through leaving candy wrappers and empty bags of Cheeto’s Flaming Hots behind them… the exact amount of garbage they took 7 hours picking up and then they started shooting.  Checking on the sick neighbor… on the way out got robbed by someone that sounded a lot like the sick person’s bad-ass grandson for the little bit of cash they had left after they went grocery shopping for the food to prepare the meal that was prepared.  Never made it to the news that night, but you guys know this one… the producers at Channel Zero decided to use the footage of foolish toothless person that “seen’t ERR-THANG”.

The other person that does good in the neighborhood, by trying to keep the community safe, is truly trying to make a difference.  They refuse to live in fear, believe that senior citizens should not hide in their homes after 4:00 PM, believe every child’s life is special and should not be taken down by a senseless act of violence.  So they take time to organize a neighborhood watch, tell the police of anything they heard, and tell their neighbors what to ‘look out for’.  They tell gangbangers to get off of their street, show up to court to testify against those they witnessed commit crimes.  Promote positive activities for the neighborhood kids to take part in so gang leaders cannot recruit those kids to join their sets.  This one person has no fear and once stood in front of a gunman trying to shoot a child for not having money he owed him and defiantly said “you gonna have to shoot me too”.  That person, that brave soul in our community… well they had a beautiful funeral and that night on the news the toothless fool actually shed a tear for them as she repeatedly cried “WHYYYYYYYYY” in front of a live shot on the 10 o’clock Channel Zero news.

Happy Black History Month to the African-American 1%, unfortunately in our community it is the 99% that is holding YOU down.  We honor and respect both and you can say without a moment of doubt when questioned about the condition of your community… “it ain’t my fault”. Happy Black History Month to one of you… RIP to the other one!  We put your picture on a T-shirt and had a bar-b-que at the park in your honor; right after the other good-hearted person had just cleaned it up.  We would have cleaned up after we were through, but they started shooting.

Happy Black History Month!!! Today We Salute… The Maury Povich Show

Always more comforting to see someone else embarrass themselves while eventually becoming the laughing-stock of whatever small town in Arkansas, they must come from. The Maury Povich Show has caught more men in lies than a prosecuting attorney.  Maury is an equal opportunity, opportunist we can all agree the show is much more fun when Black people are on it.

The ‘cut-away’ where one of the guests are taped saying whatever they want to say about the person that bought them on the show is always a delight.  The degradation of women by the men is usually reserved to an NWA song.  This is always made better when the mother or current girlfriend of the man is right behind him looking like hype man, the only thing missing is a clock hanging from their neck and an occasional ‘yeeeeahhh boyeeee’.  The woman escorting the man to the show is never more attractive than the woman he use to date and usually outweighs the ex-girlfriend by exactly 122 lbs.  Proving these men have never been told, “if you are gonna cheat… you do not fuck down, you fuck up”.

When the mother escorts her son to the taping of the show, the mother always takes over the cut-away segment.  The looks in the mother’s eyes are similar to the look of the dominant inmate during a brutal prison shower rape and it will end in a similar fashion, in tears with someone’s ass torn up.  The son is always in the back mouthing either ‘help me’ or ‘I still love you, help me’.  The mother’s never believe anything the lying tramp said and freely tells all she ‘heard’ about who the little heffa has been sleeping with.  LOVE IT!

For the record, not every question answered turns out to be a lie but every man is caught in a lie.  No man is going to pass the ‘have you ever thought about sleeping with another woman’ question.  No man can pass the questions:

  • “Have you ever thought about sleeping with your girlfriend’s best friend?”
  • “Have you ever thought about sleeping with your girlfriend’s cousin?”
  • “Have you ever thought about sleeping with your girlfriend’s sister?”
  • “Have you ever thought about sleeping with your girlfriend’s enemy?”
  • “Have you ever thought about sleeping with your girlfriend’s mother?”
  • “Have you ever thought about sleeping with any combination of your girlfriend’s relatives, friends, enemies, neighbors, co-workers, Facebook friends?”

No man can pass those questions without being really good at passing lie detector test or by just answering “Yes Maury I have thought about sleeping with all of them, and since we are being honest I am now thinking about sleeping with your wife Connie and your show’s producer”.  It is a no win situation for a man.

Now the moment you have all been waiting for:

Maury has made more men a “baby’s daddy” than Erykah Badu.  The Maury Povich Show has bought more recognition to DNA than crime scene investigations, wrongly convicted inmates, or even Watson & Crick!  Swab them cheeks, 24 hours later come back to the studio (usually in the same polo shirt) and find out if ‘in the case of … YOU ARE THE FATHER’.  From the women who have been on the show more than five times to the women that have had more than 30 men tested (let’s just make this clear, you should be able to narrow down the ‘possible’ fathers down to TWO.  It should either be Eric or Michael, anything more confirms you as a whore and that’s real talk) no episode has bought me such side-splitting laughter while cringing for the future of a child than the case of little Sammy Davis, Jr., Jr.

Yes that was Sammy Davis, Jr., Jr., not Sammy Davis III (the third) but yes Sammy Davis, Jr., Jr.  A woman had sex with a man by the name of Sammy Davis Jr. (we do not have time to wonder why his mother would do that to HIM), that woman ended up pregnant and in love with Sammy Davis Jr. had a boy and decided to name her after the father.  Showing her ignorance, instead of informing the hospital to name her son Sammy Davis III, giving the staff to joke about the father’s name, she told them to add a ‘Jr.’.  Why nobody called a social worker on her I will never know.  Why the Social Security Administration and local/state officials did not launch an immediate inquiry on the hospital for failure to report this woman to Child Protective Services and beat her ass with a rolled up magazine is beyond anyone’s comprehension.

Sammy Davis, Jr. was indeed the father of Sammy Davis, Jr., Jr. ending two dreams the father had.  One, being able to hold on to his entire check without a child support deduction; two) having his moment to breakout his version of the “NOT the father” dance.

We honor you, the Maury Povich Show, on this very special Valentine’s Day salute during Black History Month.  So after you buy the flowers from the gas station on your way to ya’ girl’s crib, after you have listened to every slow song you could illegally download, and after you eat that tough ass steak she fired up… remember to ‘strap it up’ before I am laughing at you next year!  With these economic times it is nice to know that we as people have something to keep us entertained until the next Tyler Perry mess… I mean movie, comes out.

Happy Black History Month!!! Today We Salute… C.P. Time

My bad for posting so late, I got caught up… Thanks for holding me down.  Since I am late in putting this together let’s just go ahead and salute something found in every situation involving more than 4 Black people… Colored People Time (CPT)!  If you have to be some place on time, I hope you are not depending on Black people to help you get there.  If you do find yourself in a situation where the meeting starts in 15 minutes and the Black person you are riding with has noticed the bakery you are passing just opened and there isn’t a line, start getting your lie together.  That’s even if it is that simple as realizing you are going to be late.

Most CPT’ers cannot put a finger on why they are always late.  They eventually get to a point where their tardiness is their excuse for being tardy:

“Come on let’s get to the meeting”

“I ain’t in no rush.  They know I’m always late”

True, people have come to expect the CPT’er to arrive late, pushing anything that needs to be discussed with them present to the back of the agenda.  CPT’ers cannot tell you exactly why they are late, they leave on time.  They stopped to get gas, an Egg McMuffin, and a card for everyone to sign for the boss’ birthday.  That is not enough to make them real late.  The 10 minutes they spent checking their lottery numbers at the gas station, the 3 minutes it took for the attendant to check those numbers again, and the additional 5 minutes it took for them to get today’s numbers (no quick picks for a CPT’er) all before they got to the 10 second transaction of “20 dollars on pump 7” never factors in to their thought process.

The 4 minutes they spent staring at the McDonald’s menu, trying to figure out what to order, after spending 10 minutes in line complaining about ‘how can someone get to the front of the line and not know what they want’?  Only to order the same Egg McMuffin the CPT’er orders every day, add to the situation that this is a CPT’er we are talking about which means they stopped at a Black owned and operated McDonalds where the ‘fast’ in fast food in considered something to aspire to, not something to be applied today.  So add another five minutes to the standard 3 minute Micky D’s wait time.

Picking up the birthday card from the pharmacy was the easy part, walked right in, grabbed the first card in the birthday section that made reference to ‘Our Boss’ and the CPT’er made their way to check-out.  Oh, the magazines are here, and the new Jet Magazine is out.  If it is a woman CPT’er, they have to read that article about how Toni Braxton or LisaRaye overcame something, if the CPT’er is a brotha straight to the Jet Beauty of the Week, a check of the Top Singles and Albums, and one more good look at the Beauty of the Week.  By the time they arrive to work, the ‘birthday breakfast’ for their boss is about over and everyone had to awkwardly step out to sign the card without the big guy seeing them do so.  What is usually 30 minutes of errands for most people before work, the CPT’er turns into an hour and 47 minutes of randomness and a written warning from HR.

Let’s take some time to recognize some famous CPT’ers:

Dr. Dre: Made his fans wait 7 years for the follow-up to The Chronic and is currently putting those same fans through a 13 year wait for his ‘final’ CD Detox.  It now takes Dr. Dre so long to complete projects that beats he has made for Detox just end up on the albums of people signed to his label, if they stay.  Contracts of some of his artists expire before he gets around to working with them. Last year he finally released a song that is listed as being from his upcoming Detox CD called “We Need A Doctor”… as in, “We need a doctor, to hurry the fuck up and release his album”.  Ironically, Dr. Dre is from Compton, California a city also known as the ‘C.P.T.’, can’t make this shit up folks.

Halle Berry:  Made brothers wait 13 years into her acting career before she showed us a titty.  Then she couldn’t stop showing her titties.  Most amazing thing is (other than her titties, honestly very nice.  I don’t know how they are holding up post babies), once she started showing the C-cups to us she won an Academy Award.  So she made herself wait too… she could have popped a titty out back in 1998 in Bullworth with Warren Beatty and saved herself the shame of begging Billy Bob Thornton to make her feel good.

The Black community’s recognition of their own economic power:  Real talk, still waiting on this.  Hold tight, this should have been here by now.

Kobe Bryant: It took Kobe Bryant 5 years to realize what most basketball fans already knew, he is no Michael Jordan and needs a star center by his side for him to win titles.  It took 10 years, even though his daddy Joe “Jellybean” Bryant screamed it at him in 2002, for Kobe to realize he DID need a prenuptial agreement.

Black Entertainment Television:  In what is an absolute record for CPT’ers… 25 years!!! 25 years is how late BET was to getting to something.  It took 25 years for BET to arrive to the conclusion they didn’t give a fuck about reporting the news, even when the news meant something to Black people.  When every cable network carried Corretta Scott-King’s funeral, BET put its big black middle finger up, took a swig of Hennessy and aired 106th and Park again.  Bye Ed Gordan, Bye Tavis Smiley, Bye Jackie Reid (that one hurt me most of all), bye accountability to your community.  Hello butt naked hoes in rap videos!!!

Happy Black History Month!! Today We Salute… The Stanky Attitude

Today we recognize the `Stanky Attitude`. Once confined to the main office of any school you walked into, the reception desk of welfare offices and ‘customer service’ booth of your local grocery store, but thanks to online degrees and the Americans with Disabilities Act you are free to share your misdirected anger and “what the fuck is that smell” face with the world..

Irene Gibson did not invent the stanky attitude but she did perfect it, her ‘neck roll’ was so fierce and intense people swore they could hear it over the phone!  Irene could be seen walking into work every day wearing knee highs and house shoes.  Even though she carried a pair of shoes more acceptable for work, she kept her house shoes on all day.  She only put her ‘work’ shoes on one time that anyone could remember, November 29, 1997 when R&B singer Freddie Jackson came by to visit his 3rd cousin-once-removed on his daddy’s side, that worked in Accounting.  Once when her manager asked if she could stay an extra 15 minutes Irene made Stanky history with her reply “Hell to the N’aw” giving stanky women and women having a ‘stanky moment’ a motto. Go girl, go!!

The stanky attitude is easily identifiable by their statements:

“My boss ain’t shit”

“My man ain’t shit”

“My brother ain’t shit”

“My cousin ain’t shit”

“My family ain’t shit”

“You ain’t shit”
“I’ll be back after I take a shit”

“She think she the shit”

“He think his shit don’t stink”

“I don’t give a shit”

The stanky attitude has only been seen listening to one song, “Not Gon’ Cry” by Mary J. Blige, singing “I SHOULD HAVE LEFT YOUR ASS A THOUSAND TIMES” louder than any other line in the song.  Stank-stank, as people call them behind their back, gains strength in believing everyone is wrong even though they have not made a comment based in facts since the 2nd grade.  When called out and proven wrong the Stanky Attitude replies the same way every time “hmmph” and then walks away humming “I should have left your ass…”.  The loudest laugh in the room, so loud it makes you stop laughing to make sure the spit flying out their mouth isn’t landing anywhere on you.  So with the utmost respect we honor the Stanky Attitude, the ghetto, the office, and church would be so much more pleasant without you.  Here`s to you Stanky Attitude… as if you care.

Happy Black History Month!!! Today We Salute… The Hater

Today we salute the most controversial person of all the people we will honor in Black History Month… The Hater.  People say the best way to deal with the Hater is to ignore them, but Haters are not to be ignored, they refuse to be ignored, they will not let you ignore them, and you should not ignore them.  The Hater is confirmation that what you are doing is impressive.  So keep doing it!  Remember when you were good at baseball and everyone told you how well you were doing?  What happened?  You didn’t want to play baseball the next year, instead you learned how to smoke weed with your friends without getting caught.  Remember when your teacher told that you were good at Biology and that you should think about being a doctor?  Now you are pulling double-shifts at Wendy’s trying to keep a roof over your head and looking at those ‘you can still get a degree’ commercials they show during Judge Judy in the afternoon, like you still have hope.

You need the Hater; there was that time your brother told you that you would never beat him.  Within a year you were kicking his ass up and down the block, he started locking his door at night out of fear that you would walk in at 3 in the morning and resume the ass whupping.  Think about the time your friends said you couldn’t dance and laughed at you for hours, then days, then weeks about it.  That became a running joke on the block, so much so you stopped hanging out and stood in front of your TV watching Rap City and 106th and Park until you learned how to do the Bankhead Bounce, the Harlem Shake… the Roger Rabbit.  By the time the Spring Dance rolled up, you were killing it on the dance floor (if you did learn the Roger Rabbit, you were hurting the ankles of the person dancing behind you), man you were coming in 2nd and 3rd place at lunch hour dance competitions!  How about that time your ex told you that you would never amount to shit?  Well, the jury is still out on that one, but you are still trying to prove them wrong!  See, praise does nothing for you but a Hater can turn your whack ass into a star.

You think Barack Obama always wanted to be president?  Hell no, that brother wanted to be Dr. J, but you try being the only Black dude walking around a private high school in Hawaii, he got sick of being ignored by everyone but the basketball coach.  As soon as he could, took his but to the main land, started off in Cali, then finished up hitting the East Coast, finally settling in Chicago where a brotha has to be a brotha.  Before you knew it that dude was walking around the hood talking to people like he grew up on the South Side, eating rib tips, and eventually got him a big booty sista as confirmation of how you do the damn thing!  You see how he walked up to the podium after they killed Bin Laden?  You don’t “learn” that walk… you EARN that walk.  You earn it by putting Haters in their place.  He has Haters now, Mitt Romney, let the unemployment rate dip below 8% in the next couple of months, when people come to see Obama talk they are going to have to wait a couple of minutes from the time he gets to mic to when he says his first word.  Long enough for him to take off his hat, get a swig out his glass, and put on his sunglasses… so he can see what he’s saying!!

Remember how George Jefferson was walking during the opening credits of “The Jefferson’s”?  Remember how hard he was pimping as he escorted his woman into their new building up to their ‘deluxe penthouse in the sky-i-i’?  That was the first time George had ever walked like that, if you look really close you can see and lip read Weezy’s mouth you can see her saying “why in the fuck are you walking like that”?  He had no idea that was the first time he had ever walked like that.  People called it a ‘pimp’, that was not a ‘pimp walk’ that was George stepping on every Hater in his life.  With each step he crushed another Hater, “take that Archie Bunker”!

People focus on their ‘swag’ now; you cannot have swagga without having Haters.  When you see a 16-year-old kid walking around dressed like a fake member of Young Money, claiming that is their ‘swag’ they do not have it.  When you have Haters you do not need to dress a certain way, you just carry yourself a certain way.  You do not need skinny jeans that would just give the Hater another reason to hate on you.

You eventually realize there is nothing you can do about Haters, but appreciate their hate.  The Hater will talk about how your brand new, fresh off the lot, BMW 650i “ain’t all that”, then turn around and ask you for a ride to the ‘sto’.  A Hater will clown you about your new higher paying job, then send you an email at your work account asking if “y’all hiring”.  The Hater will disrespect your new home, tell you it is too small, that the neighborhood sucks, that they wouldn’t be caught dead over there, but they never miss a cookout and is the last one to leave.  The Hater looks at your watch and say “its a’ight”, then pop up 3 weeks later with a fake TAG Heuer and act like it the most expensive thing in the room.  Don’t get upset and challenge the Hater, you might beat the brakes off the Hater all the Hater will do is get up, wipe the blood from their lips and tell you his little brother and sister hit him harder than that when they were kids.

Let your Hater be your motivation, matter of fact any time you have spent too much time with your Hater go home and put on “Motivation” by Kelly Rowland.  Zone out for a few minutes and let your success show itself to you.

The saying ‘behind every successful man is a great woman’ is only partly true.  It should actually be gender neutral and more to the point “Behind every successful person, is a Hater… still hating on them”.  Keep doing you, you are fine and close to reaching your goals.  We need our Haters, so today let’s celebrate the Hater in our communities.  Call your Hater today and thank them for everything they haven’t done for you.  The only thing The Hater has ever done and will ever do is give birth to some hating ass kids. But if you do not know who The Hater is in your life… Hi Hater!

Happy Black History Month!!! Today We Salute The Homies That Ain’t Here

The Homies that Ain`t Here… Let us take a moment to remember those that are not with us. Pookie, serving 8 to 15 years for assault.  Pookie thought it would be a good idea to go outside and hangout on the corner and sip on a little Henn.  Never a good idea, Pookie had a tendency to get violent when drinking cognac.  While drinking and enjoying his time on the corner and hiding his cup every time a police car rolled past him, Pookie started a conversation with Earl Bivens.  Earl was the neighborhood jokester.  Pookie not in a mood for jokes, reached in his back pocket pulled out the half empty pint bottle of Hennessy and cracked Earl over the head with it.  Exactly when another police car was passing the corner, shocked and extremely drunk Pookie could not gain balance to out run the officers.  Police later found out that Pookie became upset after the victim jokingly asked “what grown ass man over the age of 12 still tells people to call him Pookie”!

J-Dub 11 to 15 years for possession with intent to distribute.  J-Dub is that brother in every hood holds it down for his block, respected, took care of his baby’s mama, a real G.  Respected the Thug Life Code and held it close to his heart (yeah there is actually a Thug Life Code… Pac didn’t make that shit up!  Well, technically he did make that shit up, he wrote it with his ‘pops’, as Mos Def would say Wooowwwww).  Dub was holding it down for his boys, keeping the weight near him so everyone could hustle.  Police raided J-Dub’s apartment asked him to lead them to his connection.  Holding the Code up high, Dub informed the cops “I ain’t no snitch”.  Prepared to deal with the process, knowing he would be respected and his boys would know he ‘held it down’ for them, he was ready for his trial.  The trial started and he was excited to see his entire crew sitting in the court room, proud of his boys for ‘holding him down’ and riding with him.  Until he saw the Prosecution call each one of his boys up to the stand and point at him when asked the question “who did the drugs belong to”?  Now J-Dub spends his days reading letters from people telling him that his baby’s mama is living with one of his ‘friends’ that testified against him.

Rico 45 years Fed time for violating RICO laws.  Not going to give the details behind his arrest, I just find the irony funny. So do the guys on his cell block, they joke with him about it as all 5’3” of him walks into the shower… shivering.

James “Big Scoop” Elkins… Dead.  “Big Scoop” was walking to his car when two dudes approached him pulled out guns and told him to ‘the watch, the wallet, come off with ‘em right now’.  “Big Scoop” was known to say “I ain’t no punk”, when discussing hypothetical situations involving someone getting over on him.  Deciding to prove his motto true, Scoop responded with the words her right before 85 percent of all violent crimes in the Black community… “fuck you nigga”.  In classic unforgiving bad neighborhood fashion “Big Scoop” was introduced to 5 bullets .  Sadly, James “Big Scoop” never carried a lot of money on him or wore expensive jewelry unless going to a special event.  Since he was going to grab something from McDonald’s and visit the family of a friend found dead the night before, he left $600 in his apartment.  After noticing they only were getting 9 bucks and a no name watch… the robbers shot Scoops lifeless body 8 more times out of anger and frustration.

As we salute the Homies that ain’t here we remind ourselves that whatever reason it is you ain’t here we will show you our love, pouring out a little drink when chilling at a backyard barbecue while you avoid an unwanted ass rape upstate… again, put some money on your books, until we get tired of driving all the way out to the county lock-up to do it or had it with buying stamps. Dude, we`ll splash your picture on a t-shirt and mention your name on the 2nd verse of a song. But what we will not do is stop doing the thing that made you `not here no more` we just might not do it at the same spot.  Fellas keep your head up… and a tight grip on the soap, one.


HAPPY BLACK HISTORY MONTH!!! Today We Salute Flava Aid

HAPPY BLACK HISTORY MONTH! Flava Aid, not KOOL AID. You did not notice when mom started buying cheaper meat or the off brand vanilla cream cookies or saltines instead of Ritz, but when you saw Flava Aid instead of Kool Aid you knew your family had some money problems.

That day you helped your mother with the groceries, you put the pork steaks instead of the usual pot roast in the freezer without a question.  Grabbed the store brand loaf of bread out the bag, not once did you question where the Wonder or Sara Lee bread is at.  But when you pulled out 50 packs of Flava Aid instead of the 20 packs of Kool Aid you became use to, you screamed out “Flava Aid… why you being so cheap?  What you be doing with your money?”  Learning two very important lessons at that moment, your mother has a serious left hook and don’t ever question her about how she spends her money.  The next thing that crosses your mind, after  you stop seeing stars, is that times is rough and how can this happen to your family.  You go to church, you don’t steal anything other than your neighbors cable and they are tapped into their neighbor’s cable so the original sin is on them anyway.

The Flava Aid revelation now has you more than interested in stock market ticker at the bottom of that one  boring channel you zoom by on your way to watch BET.  Unfortunately you don’t know what Kool Aid’s ticker symbol is, so your theory that the cost of Kool Aid has sky rocketed will remain unfounded.

“WHY DID MOMMY NOT INVEST IN KOOL AID???  We would be rich; I would be belly deep in purple Kool Aid right now if she did.”

That’s okay the president speaks tonight to the nation, he will surely address the rising cost of high quality drink mixes.  At 8:00 PM that night, you are in front of the television with an ice cold glass of water (you’re still not a hundred percent sure of that cheap stuff)…

“Mr. President, I could sure use your leadership right now.  War?  Crimes against humanity?  The right thing to do?  Man please… who elected this clown!  My mommy can’t afford my drank, deal with the issues man!  I can’t wait until I can vote.”

The next day you are at school, in English class your teacher asks you to draft a letter to someone you miss.  Your letter to the “Hey Kool Aid Man” is heartfelt, emotional… you get a “B” on it, but your teacher writes a referral to the school social worker about possible ‘issues’. You do not have time to talk answer questions from a professional about ‘uncles’ and point at puppets, you have to get to Chemistry class.  Dammit you will make your own Kool Aid!  How hard can it be?  Sugar, ground up Jolly Ranchers, and water… off you go!

Okay, that didn’t work out Kool Aid is not as easy as you thought it would be and while trying to ground up the Jolly Ranchers into a fine powdery substance, a piece broke off and hit that slow kid in his eye.

“Detention, I have to serve detention for trying to help financially challenged kids.  Oh well, Martin Luther King went to jail for his beliefs, an hour in the library for mine is worth it if it means a better life for all.”

Heck, half your friends are in detention so not so bad.  Plus, you all can kick it at your house after school, play Nintendo, and drink Kool… FUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGG.  Now you have 4 thirsty and judgmental ‘friends’ on their way to your house and they keep asking if you have red or green Kool Aid in the fridge.  You cannot stand privileged kids.  The fear that you feel creeping up on you as you near your house is only trumped by your outrage at the government for allowing it’s citizens to reach such levels of poverty.

You arrive at home with 4 ‘rich kids’ following you, your mom meets you at the door.  No company!!! Punishment???  Yes, I am on punishment!  Awesome.  I had to deal with a backhand left hand from mom and a possible concussion… but questioning where mom’s money was going has turned out to be an ego saving move.

“Bye… I gotta go clean my room and take out the garbage.  Thank God!”

Next day at school you figure the need to take interest in history class for the first time.  You want to know about the history of Kool Aid, which excites the class.  Everybody wants to talk about Kool Aid.  Who wouldn’t, until one kid asks the teacher if it is true that a man killed a bunch of people by poisoning their Kool Aid.  WHAT???  The teacher tells the class that the incident was at Jonestown and adds an interesting note about what they were drinking, “people for years have said it was Kool Aid they mixed up, actually it was Flava Aid”… you’re definitely not drinking that shit now.  And how stupid were those people to follow a broke cult.  If you ever join a cult they will have a lot of money and if you ever notice them switching out the Kool Aid for Flava Aid you know what’s going down and that the guy next to you is welcome to your glass.

Eventually, your mom pulls into the driveway with a small bag of Kool Aid and all is well again.  You’re not going to lose the house, you won’t have to spend your weekends walking around town with a stolen cart from the local Safeway collecting aluminum cans on the side of the road.  You can sleep peacefully again, knowing that your family has survived a serious financial crisis.  So on this 3rd day of Black History Month we salute Flava Aid, knock off drink mix, the drink of choice of deranged insecure cult leaders everywhere, and economic indicator for little Black kids.