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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 ...

Wednesday

Jump Shot Jump Offs & Other Such Nonsense

I have the awesomest friends. They provide me with such deep belly laughs ALLATIME!! But they're not your average chicks who get together to discuss designer bags, the price of yacky on the Black Market or what club we'll be raiding in search of Mr. He A'ight, He'll Do. These chicks actually read. & think. & read some more. & then discuss. Sometimes the convos are intelligent, other times they're straight ign'ant. Other times they're a combination of educated ignance that KRS-ONE copyrighted for us: edutainment. My girlfriend, Big Slim, happens to have an affinity for all things ridonkulous but is beginning to have her fill of some of the pure futtbuckery that is ALL OVER the TV & the interwebs. After renewing her relationship with COMCAST, Big Slim, decided to dive right in & found herself right in the mist midst of some nonsense. It caused her, at 11 p.m., to email me this:

Ancestral Side-Eye.
That's the name of my new blog. I'm convinced that Malcolm, Marcus, Huey, Booker T, Nzinga, Yaa Asantewaa, Frederick, Shaka Zulu, and all 'em are PISSED on a regular basis. You might ask, "what the f@ck brought all this on?" Basketball Wives. Now, before you judge me, I wasn't even watching it. Saw a bunch of status updates about drink throwing and Jennifer and figured something must of popped off between her and one of the other jump offs. As I read more updates and comments, I realize that the drink throwing is between Jennifer and Eric. Huh?!?! At this point I HAVE to see what's going on. While I realize that he is what Tinker Bell's grandmama would call a "gutter snipe," I figured that not even a gutter snipe would throw a drink at a woman. Uhmmm, WRONG! Now, after watching the video, I realized that he threw his drink at her in response to her throwing her drink at him. None of this really mattered to me because I was unclear as to how in the f@ck the conversation went on that long. You see, about 2 minutes BEFORE this grown ass man douses his wife with a martini, he told her that she was nothing. I done been some bitches, some assholes, some wenches, some witches, and some mo' shit but I ain't NEVA been nothing. And, none of the aforementioned insults have ever been hurled at me by any current or former friend, boyfriend, or foe for that matter. At least not to my face. Ain't nobody ever been that gangsta. Scratch that. I ain't never surrounded myself with anyone that f@cking low and hateful. What bothered me even more is that she was unfazed by being called nothing. Are we just so accustomed to people trying to chip away at our self-worth that we don't even feel it anymore? Or, was she just too embarrassed to react? I hate that this shit bothers me so much but it always leaves me deeply disturbed and saddened.

I've had some ultra low points in my life that caused me to question my intelligence, competence, and attractiveness. Those moments, days, weeks, months, and years feel like shit and are barely bearable. So, it's hard for me to "fanthom" (big ups to Steve Harvey!) the pain involved in doubting your worth as a human or having your husband do so. I'm also blown by the fact that most folks don't see anything wrong with this shit and think it's funny. Imma go read something fluffy and take my sorrowful ass to sleep.

Love ya!


Here's the video:



Personally, I can't put no real energy into this. This bunch of pigeons have come to roost together on cable television, giving groupies worldwide a bad name. These clucks have no business, no purpose, no vision, & no 401K.

I must assume Big Slim was sleepy to be concerned for any 1 of these women who on an episode by episode basis solidifies their glass cases in the Hoodrat Hall Of Fame. These women who've learned about relationships from Vivica Fox movies & Shazza's books (a la A Different World) found in time capsules at Colored Community Colleges have no behavior. Jennifer reminds me of a woman I saw once who kept pushing on her man & then chasing him every time he tried to walk away, callin' him everything but what his mama named him. He walked away no less than 6 times, exercising great restraint, while corner therapists & street philosophers warned her to "leave that man alone." She ain't listen. Bout the 7th time she came for him he turned in slow motion & stole her in the jaw. Was it right? Nope. Was I sad for her? Hell nawl. Why? Cuz she asked for that ass whoopin. People tell you when you've gone too far & it's your responsibility to READ THE ROAD SIGNS! When you don't, accidents happen.



In truth, I suspect Jennifer's mad that she was ever married to a man that appeared to be pregnant bout the forehead with their hate child. & I suspect Big Slim is mad that since Jennifer married that dude that now she too has to watch the struggle that is the halted birth of said child. I manage to keep these kinds of things out of my life. I lead silent protests against vagina waggers (naming no names lest you call me a hater), VH-1 line ups & The Help. My Life space is clear because of this & I don't have to wonder how these clucks can make me question the value of my own existence. No Ma'am...THIS ain't bout that Life.

Watch me move.

Post Script--I love you too, Big Slim!!

Note: I in no way find abuse of any kind to be funny. I am greatly concerned about the collective & individual self-esteem issues of Brownins, girls & women. We are currently in a state of New Age Man-Tannin' (Bamboozled reference) that is disgusting & frightening. As adults, these women have signed contracts to portray themselves in a light that they may not have known at 1st would be negative. We all know that there is NO reality in reality tv at this point & these people are human pawns in a sick game. But cash rules everything around them (cream...dolla dolla billz y'all) & they've sold their souls to the devil to maintain street versions of what they think Hollywood is. You can take the chick outta the hood but... I had to play with my own disgust here, but do know that I do not watch these shows on purpose so as not to add another viewer to the rationale for keeping this trash on television & making it easier for women like them to opt for self-exploitation for designer wears.

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