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.

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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 The Snitch

Happy Black History Month! The Snitch is on every block talking real loud about the code of the streets while wearing a `Stop Snitching’ shirt. He is always telling you who he heard talked to the cops even though he is on speed dial at the precinct.  The Snitch will tell on anybody, it does not have to be a crime involved. 

 The Snitch will tell on a guy if he wants to sleep with his woman, the Snitch may know that he cannot sleep with that woman, but he will be damn’d if that guy keeps tappin’ the ass.  The Snitch does not even have to tell the truth, as long as they do not know what the truth IS, they will create a story that in their mind is the truth.  If the Snitch is jealous does not like that you have on some heels she wished she owned, those heels still have the tags tucked away and you plan on returning them tomorrow, wit’cha broke ass.

 Though the Snitch is a thorn in your side if it were not for them, the police would never arrest anyone in the Black community.  Most people in the Black community are afraid to talk to the police because they are afraid they will be found out by the criminals in their neighborhood and made a target or even worse labled a ‘snitch’.  The Snitch knows that there is no reason to be concerned about the criminals finding out, why?  Because the Snitch is a criminal, though he prefers to be called a ‘confidential informant’ or “CI”, he tells on other criminals so after they are arrested he can start committing the same crimes at the same places the guy he told on was.  Cops also let the Snitch get away with things based on how good his information is, so if the Snitch gives cops information on homicides and he keeps his crimes at or below selling dope, he can usually have a ‘get out jail free’ pass when arrested. 

Many Hip-Hop artists tell their fans they should not ‘snitch’, easy to say now that they do not live in neighborhoods, where someone telling on somebody could save a life… probably theirs (see Tupac).  Some rappers have made songs about ‘not snitching’, refused to coöperate with police conducting investigations, one rapper once said on CNN if he lived next door to a serial killer he would not tell the police… he would just move.  Unfortunately rappers are the biggest snitches ever.  When a rapper has ‘beef’ with another rapper the first thing they do is record a song that tells all the secrets they know about the rapper they do not like.  Can you imaging being snitched on through a post on Youtube?  How does the ‘violated’ rapper deal with being snitched on?  By snitching… if the other guy sent his snitching song to DJ Kay Slay, then the snitched on rapper goes on Funkmaster Flex’ show and dry-snitches.  No lyrics, no beat, no rhymes, no lubrication… sits in the studio talks to Flex in an interview format and tells Flex and the NYC metropolitan area (and eventually the entire Hip-Hop community) about the ‘short comings’ of the other rapper.  Honestly, rappers snitch on a higher level rarely achieved by street-level Snitches.  This level is called ‘keeping it real’ or as it is more commonly known ‘acting like a real bitch’.

 The Snitch’s favorite saying is ‘you can trust me’, usually stated after handing someone a joint while waiting for the unassuming person to tell on themselves.  Snitches do not record conversations or wear wires; no honorable Snitch would dare allow technology to do a job that they can do themselves.  The Snitch does not freely give away information, they could but they want you to work for it.  Think of the Snitch like the woman in your office that walks around the office telling everyone how much she loves the Lord and how she has to be at church every night of the week, but for a trip to Olive Garden on a Saturday night for bread sticks and all you can eat pasta you can have her speaking in tongues until she has to start getting ready for service the next morning.

Today’s snitch is a 3rd generation snitch, came from a snitching ass dad and snitching ass granddad, married a snitching ass mate… got together and made some snitching ass kids.  The Snitch has a picture of the Last Supper in their living room, with Judas sitting in the middle of the table finishing Jesus’ plate.  Crimes in the hood are solved by him for a carryout from Harold’s Chicken Shack on 35th and King Drive.  Happy Black History Month to the Snitch, we know you are someplace celebrating this month by telling people about the late great Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King… and his side ho.

Famous Snitches:

Kobe Bryant (told on 2 teammates, one to the cops the other before the playoffs)

Your little sister (told on you!)

President Jimmy Carter, admitted to lusting for a woman other than his wife.  NEVER EVEN HIT IT!!! (TOLD ON HIMSELF… DAAAAAAAAAAAMN)