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21 more things = 42

The last post was the 21 things I KNOW at 42. At the end I said I'd consider writing 21 more things to make it 42 in total & then ...

Tuesday

Bandwagoning (& sick about it)


Money must make you stupid; if not stupid, then sloppy.  One of my favorite bloggers posted “Lying Tiger & Shaq, OH MY (Do all famous men cheat?),” a 2-name hit at the stupid celebrities with their names on everyone’s tongues and tabloids for their scandalous behavior with women in recent days, weeks, and months.  Search the blog reel on the right and check him out.
 
So, I typically wouldn’t even touch this topic.  I don’t care anything about Tiger Woods.  I think I’m supposed to care about the barriers he’s broken for Black people in golf, but since he doesn’t consider himself to be Black, well, I’ll oblige him and ignore his ass.  Who am I not to treat people how they want to be treated?  I’m not even surprised by him being a cheater.  I wasn’t surprised when Jesse Jackson was busted either.  I guess it’s just no big deal to hear that a man is out there.  I’m more surprised that there are so many women that Tiger has tackled.  He may just be the best-kept secret because I have definitely looked at my man’s dull appearance, uptight demeanor, listened to his dry monotone voice and underestimated his sexual prowess.  Tiger Woods could be sleeping in the suite next to mine at a hotel and all he’d get from me is peace and privacy. 
 
Every day a new white woman’s face is attached to his name and it just makes me laugh.  Not an ethnic looking woman among them, further confirming for me why he shant exist in my world—I don’t even think his eyes know how to see a black woman.  Preference aside, the boy is really getting it in, which leads me to the sloppy piece. 
 
I recall stories of Black men having entire other families on the other side of town for years that nobody ever knew about.  He managed to split his pennies (& his penis) between 2 families AND hold his secret other life down without too much drama.  That was Poor Penis, getting it in.  Rich Penis is out here sending wild texts, and being seen in public with chicks that have nothing to lose and EVERYTHING to gain.  In our pop culture society celebrity has little to do with anything more than how many pictures you get caught in with people with names or engaging in skillfully planned nutbucketry.  Any of us could be a celebrity if we stage it.  Reality TV or Rich Penis….?  Tough choice.  If you choose Rich Penis you might actually get a good lay out of the deal to go with your check either from the Penis himself or for your story after you sell it to interested check-cutters. 
 
Rich Penis, especially the kind that gets to be a bazillionaire off of swinging a damn iron club, doesn’t respect how insanely blessed and lucky he is to have any of those dollars for doing…not much at all.  So, why not throw a couple million dollars to broke chicks who can describe just how wet it gets with a Tiger for a pet?  It is my humble, hard-working opinion that people who manage to get paid incredibly for bullshit should remember to respect their dollars because it’s insane that it’s possible for them to have those riches in the first place. 
 
Give me a Poor Penis any day [in theory of course...at least Moderately Employed Middle Class Penis].  From what I can tell, he’ll at least try to be respectful and discreet with his…roaming, so as not to jeopardize his right not to be dead broke, naked, and homeless to boot.  And he’ll work harder for my forgiveness instead of throwing dollars and empty gifts and promises at me.  If I were moved by money I wouldn’t be in my current profession.  Rich Penis leaves you overexposed and publicly disrespected when the wool is pulled back.  In a perfect world we’d just want Faithful Penis, but a friend of mine once told me that every woman is in a polygamous relationship whether she knows it or not.  I don’t know how true that is, but I suspect it’s more common than not.  Penis-free is always an option. 
 
Watch me move.
 

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