Wednesday, January 21, 2009

THEY'SA COMING! DA CARPETBAGGERS! OR: THE PROFESSIONAL "AFRICAN AMERICAN"


I'm old.

No doubt about it.

I knew Jacob Marley before he became a mere nightmare after Ebeneezer ate some righteous 'shrooms.

I was there when Pia Zadora was shilling Dubonnet or some such.

I read Spy magazine when Lisa Lampanelli was doing Mob hangout stories.

I remember when Tyler Perry was straight.

I know. Tyler Perry aint gay.

I know.

Does he?

Where was I?

Oh. Yeah.

I'm old.

I was born colored. Or Negro. I can never remember which.

Chicken or the egg?

At some point I learned to say it loud because I was Black and proud.

I had an afro. I wanted to be Foster Sylvers SO bad.

I'm old.

At some point, the poverty pimps decided that being Black wasn't good enough anymore. No. We had to start identifying with Mother Africa.

Why?

I ask.

So, we became "African Americans".

As if.

Let me tell you something. I aint interested in being anything but American. I live in the best country on earth and my people built this shit, so, I don't see any reason to let anyone else be "Americans" all the way and we have to hyphenate an subtract from our "Americaness" by putting someplace before our title like we stepchildren.

"Them's Bebe's kids".

I am an AMERICAN! Period. Bitches.

Well, with the election of "That One", the carpet baggers done shown up.

Sho nuff.

Like Boll Weevils on a cotton field, a new breed of professional "African Americans" have shown up all over the internets and your local cable network.

It's actually the faults of the powers that be. Just like in south in the pre-civil war days, the media elite have never seen fit to hear from Black folk.

Unless a riot was going on.

And just like in the south, a tsunami of change showed up and all of a sudden there was Negroes everywhere.

That One caused this latest Tsunami.

All of a sudden, every network low level segment producer was told, "find some Darkies and quick!"

Who showed up?

A bunch of hacks who had never actually gotten anything published, filmed, seen, or cared about.

Carpetbaggers.

Oops.

"African Americans".

It seems white people don't understand that no Black person has ever used the term "African American" when no white people were in the room. The only Negroes who use the term in a roomful of Black people are dreadlock wearing, Kwanzaa loving, light skinned, out to prove they are truly Black by reading Nikki Giovanni and dating funny looking dark "poets", pretenda Negroes.

Or some such.

Bother.

You KNOW what I'm talking about. Negroes who don't even live around Black people anymore have lined up at the CNN/FOX/ MSNBC trough to be "Pundits". Seems to me the only qualification to be a Black Pundit is to be an "African American".

To be an "African American" pundit at one of the media outlets, you must always say that mouthful of self negating claptrap every time you actually mean, "Black Folk". Then, you must make sure you give White people (Caucasian Americans. See how silly this all is?) a "look" if they forget and say "Blacks".

Don't get me wrong, it's about time we saw some color on the air. However, why is that we only get to be on when the subject is That One?

What, we can't talk about the Auto Bailout? The brave pilot who landed that plane in The Hudson?

We still talkin' 'bout riots if you think about it. Political riots.

Riots. Nonetheless.

You know who's fault this whole "African American" bullshit is?

Jesse Jackson.

Remember him?

He used to have a point before he became a too old to not know better, pervie, baby daddy, Blackmailing (African Americanmailing?), heinous corporate tool.

Remember?

He used to head Operation P.U.S.H which meant, oh who gives a fuck anymore? Somewhere along the line he decided it would be much easier to blackmail whites into giving his consulting firms cash if he just kept reminding White folks that we originally got here by way, not of Pan Am, but in chains just after The Mayflower got here ("these Indians sure are nice, but, they keep dying. Hmm, we're gonna need some slaves and Mexicans haven't been invented yet. I know! Africa!").

Jessie and his fellow Poverty Pimp, Al Sharpton (who needed the cash cause press n curls aint cheap uptown.), realized there was big cheese to be had if the rats could just guilt the fat cat into handing it over due to the sins of the father.

Hence.

"African Americans".

Hence.

Here's a thought.

Just one.

As if.

Since we no longer have to or do care about Jessie Jackson and Big Poppa Press N Curl, why don't we go back to being Americans?

Simple.

No fuss.

No muss.

You need to let people know your ethnic background (as I often do)?

Negro.

Or Black.

And the best part?

Either way, it means American

Oh yeah, there's one distinct advantage to being old.

You can say whatever the hell you want.

1 comment:

Craig Curtis said...

Love this post. When I was working for an AIDS SERVICE ORGANIZATION, guess what? Our target population was (get this) African Americans With HIV/AIDS Who Are Homeless. Target population?! What the hell. Homeless be homeless, and yes, we did serve everyone that needed the help, regardless of color, but still, in writing grants and having to identify THAT group, it was pretty ridiculous.

And then we had our illustrious leader, Miss Arvella Murray. Her favorite quotation (which I heard on a regular basis, being second in command) was "First I was colored, then I was negro, then I was black, now I'm AFRICAN AMERICAN?! I'm black, I'm black, I'm black. Fuck this shit!" She was probably the best boss I ever had, because we could laugh at ourselves, our slight cultural differences (remember, I was just black enough after having hung out with you for all those years) and she'd laugh at my skinny white ass, and I'd laugh at her ever changing Raquel Welch wig. But we were still AMERICANS first, regardless. And you bet I went out and bought a bag of dollar Sausage McBiscuits on 9/11, rushed into the drop in center, sat with Miss Arvella and staff watching that TV screen and wondering where the FUCK were the suits?! Giuliani wasn't nobody! And no one touched those McBiscuits until just before we before shut down early at noon, sickened. Needless to say, Arvella and I went to my favorite dark old place, and had a few cocktails. And our asses got real patriotic. We are Americans!

Great post.