OH SHUT THE HELL UP or NOT ANOTHER AFRICAN AMERICAN NEGRO

OK. So, Disney, purveyors of all that is good and merchandisable in the world, has finally made a movie with a Black Princess.

Egads!

Really.

I swear.

Cue the indignant, ignant, "African Americans".

I'm a lot of things.

A lot.

A whole lot.

I'm chubby (yet loveable).

I'm high yella (yet loveable).

I'm a truth teller (yet loveable).

I'm a total Bitch (yet loveable).

I'm hung like a Dominican Porn Star Donkey (yet loveable. Yet.)

I'm from West Covina (how could I be anything but loveable?).

One thing I am not?

African American.

I'm Black.

Bitchez.

Ooh, nothing gets arise out of me quicker than some nappy headed Negro spouting off about just about anything once they say , "African American".

Porquoi?

That's "we couldn't win a war if we were fighting on Gulliver's Island with Gigantor on our side" (you know, French) for, Negro please. The minute I hear "African American" I know I'm about to hear somebody 'bout to justify their time at Howard or Harvard.

On a scholarship.

Can I tell you a dirty little secret that all Black folk know? Promise you won't tell anybody else? Just between you and me? Ok. Here it T-I-S. Aint no Negro EVER said "African American" if there weren't no ofays in the room.

Uh, I mean, White people.

Yes. I meant White people. My not so good.

When White people are around, Mr. or Miss Scholarship must immediately bust out with the multi-sylebonics.

Just 'cause.

Just 'cause they have to prove that going to college or reading Nikki Giovanni in "African American Literature 101" doesn't mean that they lost their "Blackness".

Therefore, the rest of us have to be subjected to multi-syllabic versions of racial definitions that were born in the lactose intolerant, moribund brains of failed "leaders" such as Jesse Jackson and that pimp with the processed hair, Sharpton ("Free Tawanna Brawley!". Or some such.). All because Leshawn went to college.

Bother.

Well. So, Disney has the temerity after something like 300 years of making like only Blondes could have fun in fairytale kingdoms full of witches and strangely Gayesque Princes, has finally given us, Tianna or Lequisha or, who gives a flippetdy foo. Yes! Our first Black Princess.

Oh Happy Day! Massa Walt don gon give us a fantasy of our own! Wade in the water! He washed my sins away! Little colored girls can now be just as fucked up as little White Susies with body image issues and unrealistic expectations!

First Obama, now this. Can a Negro handle so much deliverance on such a short canoe trip?

Well?

Nope, according to the "African Americans" , this princess is too light and lives in New Orleans which is a cesspool of Black blood on golden streets paved with tears and therefore, inaccurate.

Thank God.

I have a feeling we'll handle misguided little Chanels and Lexus' just as well as all the Tiffany's, Brittney's and Ambers.

But NO! Not according to the graduates of "A Different World" Jr. College. And Harvard. Nope. You see, whenever and whatever we finally get for "us", it aint ne'er gone be good enough for those who need to prove that reading Tolstoy didn't effectively ruin their ability to appreciate Red Koolaid. 'Specially if it's "given" to us by "them".

Never you mind that "African Americans" gave us Bebe's Kids and BET big bootied Bitches and Hoes shaking their Rumpshakers while ghetto princes in Chrysler 300's ("it looks like a Bentley!" No it don't.) made "it rain" to the beat of "Bitch Betta Have My Money". What matters is that unless an "African American" puts up a fuss 'cause Princess Sho No No or whatever the fuck her name is aint "dark" enough or she lives in Nawlins where the "African American experience" was so awful or... Blah de blah... Ad in finitum.

Listen you braid wearin', Malcolm X watchin', T-Pain listening fraud of a bunch of "I really want a White girl" bitter Negroes, a Black princess is a fantasy character! Just like most White girls don't live in Barbie Utopia off Pacific Coast Highway with her dreamhouse and virginity intact, aint no way to do a fantasy black princess if you're going to insist that she be a Buckwheat colored, nappy headed, oppressed pickanniny livin' one step off of Oppression Lane. Nobody wants to sit through two whole seasons of Lil Kim on Dancing With The Stars. And nobody wants to sit through 90 minutes of "Precious, Pregnant Teen", The Animated tales.

It's Disney you stupid fucks. Stop bitching. Buy some damn popcorn. Listen to the latest Vanessa Williams treacle and shut the fuck up.

If you are so intent on bitching because something aint "African American" enough for you, get on a ricketdy ass Air Nigeria plane and ,hopefully if it don't crash, get yo ass back to Africa.

At least then you can be an African and leave us Americans alone.

WIT HAS RETURNED TO TV! OR, EVERYTHING I EVER NEED TO KNOW I LEARNED AT EDGEWOOD HIGH SCHOOL IN WEST COVINA, USA

I attended a high school in a sleepy little Peyton Place of a town, West Covina, California.

As "bedroom suburbs" go, West Covina was pretty average. Located 19 miles and 20 years East of downtown Los Angeles, it was the type of place where good girls didn't but bad girls were everywhere. Camaros were the dream, but, Pintos were the reality. It was the American Dream.

As long as you didn't dream too big.

I dreamt big.

So did my motley crue.

Our little crew of delinquent wannabes weren't bad, well, we weren't evil. We were good bad but not evil. Leaders of our pack. We didn't suit up in leathers and ride motorcycles. We wore Hang Ten and piled into "The Wagon", a babyshit yellow with fake vinyl wood on the sides 1972 AMC Ambassador Wagon. My wagon. Or, if Mike Mcelroy (our local rich boy Jr. Lothario) wasn't dating some Nazarenian hussy we got to pile into his latest new sport coupe. If the stars were lined up perfectly we got to go cruising in Linda Dietrich's 50ft Winnebago which she drove as if it was a Porsche and we were in the 22nd hour of the 24 hours of Daytona.

But I digress.

My point?

I'm now, and have always been, a person of limited talents.

Very.

Limited.

Talents.

I do, however, have one talent that I will hold up against anyone.

I can socialize like a Gabor mating with a Hilton on a souffle of Kardashian steroids.

Really.

I swear.

At dear old Edgewood High School aka My Alma Mater you were either a jock, cheerleader, ASB (associated student body), or a Soc (pronounced "sewsh").

Of course, you could also be in Band, but, really? I'm sure there were Band Geeks.

Yes. I'm sure.

Now, those of us without great talents developed their skills.

Sports? No.

Cheerleading? Not at EHS. That was way too fruity.

ASB? Duh, of course. It was the one place where all levels of society met. And it was all about popularity. Whether you liked me or not I was popular.

Popularity is often judged by how well you are liked. That's some delusional version of the word. Popularity is actually about fear.

I was popular.

I wasn't liked. Well, as long as you were my friend you liked me. After you weren't my friend if you were smart you still understood that I was popular. And therefore you liked me.

Therefore.

Now, did I mention that there was one more place, or shall I say, way, to be popular?

Strangely enough at Mean Girls High, uh, I mean Edgewood, you could also build a power base, uh, make friends, in the Drama and Choir Departments.

Tonite a show premiered called , "GLEE".

It is my life in high school.

As I have to go off for a round of cocktails with my new "grown up" friends you'll have to wait for my review of this FOX TV ode to me till morrow.

Trust me, you'll be glad you waited. In the meantime, go to www.fox.com and watch the premiere episode of GLEE as it will be the beginning of a long relationship, not just with the show, but, with all the Sandys, Jamies, Jimmys, Mikes, Craigs and all the rest of the backbiting, yet, loveable bored suburban youth of a little town 19 miles and 20 years east of downtown Los Angeles, WEST COVINA, USA.

HOUSE OF HATE

I was recently attacked at the Clark County Government Center by the hate filled homophobe of an excuse for a christian, Billy Eckstine McCurdy. He is the "pastor" for the Revival Temple here in Las Vegas.

After calling me a FAGGOT several times , he then said "all the men in his church had been given aids by a FAGGOT!" He then attacked a woman who came to my defense and called her an "abomination" and then screamed "in the name of Jesus, I rebuke thee!"

It was a sad and pathetic display of the most unhinged and hatefilled behavior I had ever witnessed. It happened in front of several witnesses.

I would let this go, however, this psychopath claims to do political consulting work for Mayor Oscar Goodman and was at the Government Center to speak on behalf of a judicial candidate.

I would like to know from both men why they have this "man" working for them. And I would like to know now.