S. L'Gree
2004-07-10 16:44:59 UTC
Wanna Be Home Slices
For the past few years, I've been bemoaning the quickly growing rate of
interracial coupling throughout the Boston area. Despite how the media
depicts this phenemenon as being around 50/50 on both sides, the truth is
that 95% of these couples are black men with white women. And don't let
anyone fool you either.... the almost sole basis of the majority of these
relationships is purely sex. Sure, homeys talk up the white girls, prey on
them with sweet nothings and personal revelations of oppression by Massa
White Man, but their modus operandi is easily ascertainable upon
scrutinizing their behavior for, say, all of a minute. Like the Candyman
croons, they strictly and solely want to knock da boots wit' Ms. or Mrs.
White Bread, all the better with a white man watching from the sidelines.
The funny aspect of it all is if you watch homey with the white girl after
he's successfully deflowered her. Every time I drive by non-working brothers
from the ghetto who are black, driving their brand new lexus' or Mercedes at
1 in the afternoon (they must be on lunch break) and see a deeper shade of
female paleness in the passenger seat, the girls always have the same look
of desperation or vacuity on their faces and are never, ever conversing with
the homey du jour in their lives. After all, he is much too busy keepin' it
real by talking to his niggahhhhhhh on the cell or blasting the latest
lyrical profundities from Onyx or DMX on his ghetto blaster than to even
attempt to feign interest in the life of his latest pale 'rider.'
This being said, there's a common aphorism that says time heals all wounds.
While this hurt and exasperation I feel after seeing another white girl's
life being corrupted by the de rigueur sexual machinations of a predatorial
home slice, this policy wonk is sadly starting to become immune to it all.
For as any wise man will tell you, after being exposed and witnessing even
the strangest or most debauched of events for an extended period of time, a
common, decent, God-fearing man slowly comes to accept what is before him
and might even arrive at thinking it a good thing, if not staunch enough in
his belief system. Thus, though this subject gnaws at every fiber of my
being as if I'm a modern day Prometheus chained on the mountain with a
mythical eagle chomping my liver daily, I shall veer off a bit here as my
colleague Link asked for help in one of his latest rants which I feel
obligated to answer as best I can.
Writing about his trip to the amusement park, Link took note of a disturbing
trend, one more sinister than white girls shacking up with a Homey
uninterested in committment, respect, or responsibility, that being the
growing emulation of ghetto thugdom by white MALE yooots. According to Link,
up in Thurman Thomas land (he of the hot white wife and the alcoholic
tendencies), there are many lower class dagos who openly proclaim their love
for Homeycana by wearing the oversized football jerseys, the red, white and
blue hats with the brim to the side, and, of course, the oversized gold
chains a television character named B.A. Baracas once made popular. In other
words, urban guidos feel ascribing to the porch monkey lifestyle puts them
on the A team when it comes to social status and street cred. There are
myriad reasons why these supposed lower class (lower class here means
socially, not necessarily monetarily) wops enjoy acting so wickety wickety
wac. First and foremost, their parents permit such puerile displays of
anti-social behaviors. These folks, most of whom probably think Mensa is a
country in Africa, see no reason to stunt or discipline their kids in any
way, shape, or form. Sure, they'll slap 'em every now and again with a
Cher-like "snap out of it" crack, but never will restrict any of their
children's "material" desires.
Once you look past the parents malign neglect, the usual reasons crystallize
into view. Most of the teen wannabe Garibaldis have black teen friends. And
whenever any whites are pals with homeys, it's always Vinny who changes to
become more like Leroy, never Jamaal turning in his size 56 Sapp jersey for
Giuseppe's white Pizzeria Regina t-shirt. Throw into this strange brew (this
strange brew causes a larger conflagration, not acting as an extinguisher as
it does in the movie by the same name) the omnipresent media forces of smack
da bitch up, sip my gin and juice, cop killah rap music allied with
glorified homeys on television and the movies, which are the only mediums by
which these kids are influenced (if asked who Richard Russo, Mario Puzo and
Laurence Ferlinghetti were, "aren't they in the sopranos?" would probably be
the retort) and, voila, you've got Whitey's Guide to Keepin' it Real front
and center. In his article, Link mentioned seeing many teen harps in the
same predicament. The same general principles listed above apply, except
utilize the term bog hoppers, harps, and niggahs of Europe in lieu of the
paisano terminology above. Wow, what potential for Mad Libs, eh?
If I'm evah down wit' OPP when I'm a dog in heat and a freak without warnin'
and I really wanna shoop doop dee doop doop dee doop wit a supahfreak
supahfreak whoooze supahfreakeeee, I think then, and only then, will I
finally invest in that jumbo Big Ben I've always wanted. And, as you know,
that baby will be put on a necklace and rest on my chest so my peeps will
always know this homey's got the time if they've got da hennessey. Peace
out.
~ Hoosier Daddy
http://moynihaninstitute.org/hoosierdaddy1.htm
For the past few years, I've been bemoaning the quickly growing rate of
interracial coupling throughout the Boston area. Despite how the media
depicts this phenemenon as being around 50/50 on both sides, the truth is
that 95% of these couples are black men with white women. And don't let
anyone fool you either.... the almost sole basis of the majority of these
relationships is purely sex. Sure, homeys talk up the white girls, prey on
them with sweet nothings and personal revelations of oppression by Massa
White Man, but their modus operandi is easily ascertainable upon
scrutinizing their behavior for, say, all of a minute. Like the Candyman
croons, they strictly and solely want to knock da boots wit' Ms. or Mrs.
White Bread, all the better with a white man watching from the sidelines.
The funny aspect of it all is if you watch homey with the white girl after
he's successfully deflowered her. Every time I drive by non-working brothers
from the ghetto who are black, driving their brand new lexus' or Mercedes at
1 in the afternoon (they must be on lunch break) and see a deeper shade of
female paleness in the passenger seat, the girls always have the same look
of desperation or vacuity on their faces and are never, ever conversing with
the homey du jour in their lives. After all, he is much too busy keepin' it
real by talking to his niggahhhhhhh on the cell or blasting the latest
lyrical profundities from Onyx or DMX on his ghetto blaster than to even
attempt to feign interest in the life of his latest pale 'rider.'
This being said, there's a common aphorism that says time heals all wounds.
While this hurt and exasperation I feel after seeing another white girl's
life being corrupted by the de rigueur sexual machinations of a predatorial
home slice, this policy wonk is sadly starting to become immune to it all.
For as any wise man will tell you, after being exposed and witnessing even
the strangest or most debauched of events for an extended period of time, a
common, decent, God-fearing man slowly comes to accept what is before him
and might even arrive at thinking it a good thing, if not staunch enough in
his belief system. Thus, though this subject gnaws at every fiber of my
being as if I'm a modern day Prometheus chained on the mountain with a
mythical eagle chomping my liver daily, I shall veer off a bit here as my
colleague Link asked for help in one of his latest rants which I feel
obligated to answer as best I can.
Writing about his trip to the amusement park, Link took note of a disturbing
trend, one more sinister than white girls shacking up with a Homey
uninterested in committment, respect, or responsibility, that being the
growing emulation of ghetto thugdom by white MALE yooots. According to Link,
up in Thurman Thomas land (he of the hot white wife and the alcoholic
tendencies), there are many lower class dagos who openly proclaim their love
for Homeycana by wearing the oversized football jerseys, the red, white and
blue hats with the brim to the side, and, of course, the oversized gold
chains a television character named B.A. Baracas once made popular. In other
words, urban guidos feel ascribing to the porch monkey lifestyle puts them
on the A team when it comes to social status and street cred. There are
myriad reasons why these supposed lower class (lower class here means
socially, not necessarily monetarily) wops enjoy acting so wickety wickety
wac. First and foremost, their parents permit such puerile displays of
anti-social behaviors. These folks, most of whom probably think Mensa is a
country in Africa, see no reason to stunt or discipline their kids in any
way, shape, or form. Sure, they'll slap 'em every now and again with a
Cher-like "snap out of it" crack, but never will restrict any of their
children's "material" desires.
Once you look past the parents malign neglect, the usual reasons crystallize
into view. Most of the teen wannabe Garibaldis have black teen friends. And
whenever any whites are pals with homeys, it's always Vinny who changes to
become more like Leroy, never Jamaal turning in his size 56 Sapp jersey for
Giuseppe's white Pizzeria Regina t-shirt. Throw into this strange brew (this
strange brew causes a larger conflagration, not acting as an extinguisher as
it does in the movie by the same name) the omnipresent media forces of smack
da bitch up, sip my gin and juice, cop killah rap music allied with
glorified homeys on television and the movies, which are the only mediums by
which these kids are influenced (if asked who Richard Russo, Mario Puzo and
Laurence Ferlinghetti were, "aren't they in the sopranos?" would probably be
the retort) and, voila, you've got Whitey's Guide to Keepin' it Real front
and center. In his article, Link mentioned seeing many teen harps in the
same predicament. The same general principles listed above apply, except
utilize the term bog hoppers, harps, and niggahs of Europe in lieu of the
paisano terminology above. Wow, what potential for Mad Libs, eh?
If I'm evah down wit' OPP when I'm a dog in heat and a freak without warnin'
and I really wanna shoop doop dee doop doop dee doop wit a supahfreak
supahfreak whoooze supahfreakeeee, I think then, and only then, will I
finally invest in that jumbo Big Ben I've always wanted. And, as you know,
that baby will be put on a necklace and rest on my chest so my peeps will
always know this homey's got the time if they've got da hennessey. Peace
out.
~ Hoosier Daddy
http://moynihaninstitute.org/hoosierdaddy1.htm