Time to embrace my inner troublemaker. You have 5 seconds to leave this blog if you are easily offended. Five…four…three…two…
I stared at my calendar this morning until the numbers blurred. Nowhere did I see an indication that this was “Remind Everybody Obama’s A Black Guy” week. But it damn sure felt like it. The last few days have brought news items that play as if Obama were doing skits on Chappelle’s Show. Except Dave would be funnier.
First, Jesse Jackson, knowing full well he had a live mic hooked to him by a conservative network, whispers that he wants to cut Obama’s nuts off for talking down to Black people. The mic recorded these comments, as microphones are known to do, and suddenly Jesse was on TV singing “I’m Sorry, From Jackson.” After I saw the comments, which were lovingly sprawled over half the Internet, I wrote a friend of mine. “I bet you Jesse dropped the N-word too, but they just didn’t show it.” He wrote back “Aw, c’mon! Jesse wouldn’t be that dumb!”
Famous last words.
Fox confirmed in the transcript that Rev. Jackson said the exact same word he’s been trying to ban. Jesse wants us to stop using the word, something I fully endorse. But after I heard about his use of it, I was reminded of the time when a former football player came to speak to us about drugs back in my high school days. “Don’t Do Crack!” he told us. Little did I realize he meant “Don’t do Crack…so there will be more for me.”
Is that why Jackson told folks to stop using the N-word? Was he afraid that if we didn't, we’d run out of it and there wouldn’t be any left for him? “He’s trying to tell niggers how to behave,” complained Jackson about Obama. Pardon my ignorance, but isn’t this the pot calling the kettle African-American? As long as I’ve been alive, Jesse’s been on TV telling us how we should live. It’s part of his job as a spiritual and religious figure, for Christ’s sake!
I get so much flak over my comments on Christian hypocrisy (and yes, I’m a Christian too), and I never argue back because I let my examples speak for themselves. “Do as I say, not as I do” seems to be the credo of these so-called moralists who have religious titles. How come I can’t sin as much as they have AND THEN repent, as they did? It’s always “I did it, but now I see the error of my ways. You can’t do it!” Spoiling my fun, these heifers.
Jackson, who is in Spain right now, had no comment. I like to think that, if he had, he would have said something like “Um…I was just advertising Nas’ new album and Dick Gregory’s book!”
Obama forgave Jesse, but I wonder if that was a political move. He can’t vent his Black id because he’s an upstanding man with tact. In other words, you can’t get ass out on the campaign trail. I, on the other hand, can never be president for a variety of R-rated reasons you’ll have to read my autobiography to discover. So I created Odiebama. Odiebama is not real, nor does he speak for Mr. Obama or anybody on his staff. Odiebama is a fantasy that asks “what if the Odienator were running for president, and this shit happened to him?” Here is what Odiebama would have said:
My fellow Americans, I am here today to address the comments made by civil rights legend, Reverend Jesse Jackson.
As churchgoing Americans, I know you'll relate when I talk about how sermons on Sunday morning can sometimes feel like the pastor is talking directly to you. Looking deep into your soul and chastising you for your sin, telling you to live more righteously and to repent, to cast out that sin. Sometimes we don't want to hear what the pastor is telling us, but we know he or she is right. That's why we feel offended, or react in a defensive manner. Nerves have been hit. Deeds done in the dark have come to light. Shame washes over us because we know we've done wrong, and we don't like being told we have.
When I came to my fellow African-Americans a few weeks ago to discuss fatherhood and family, I did so because I want to see us as a people succeed, to elevate ourselves to the upper echelon of the life God wants us to lead, to live the American dream. And yet, I was met with resistance and insult by a member of the very movement that should be proudest of my standing up here before you running for President.
Some in the press say that Rev. Jackson's time has past, that he's a member of the quote old guard endquote and therefore lives in the past. I don't see it that way, nor do I think Jesse is irrelevant in this day and age. No, I think that the good reverend's hateration came from that feeling he got when I spoke to those Black churches. Jesse Jackson felt like one of those Black people I allegedly am talking down to, and it's probably because he hasn't done what I'm asking our people to do.
Reverend Jackson was pushing more than equal rights and equality at PUSH, and that resulted in somebody besides Mrs. Jackson granting him another heir. Jackson's reaction to my speech indicates that he, a man of God, may not be doing right by this Commandment breaking faux pas. Perhaps he thought I was preaching about him, so he went on a conservative network and, knowing full well he had a mike on, chose to express his unhealthy desire to put his hands on my sack.
Now, I can vouch for just how desirable it is to get a hand on dese nuts. So I don't blame Jesse for wanting to do so. But as someone far wiser than me once said, don't worry about the snakes in the grass, worry about your own Black ass. Jesse, you need to stop fantasizing about my skeet shooters and focus on the issues created by yours. If anybody should be making any comments about pulling somebody's nuts off, it should be Mrs. Jesse Jackson. If I did what you did, I would have had a live grenade dropped down my boxers. I accept your apology, but in future, think before you open your mouth. Especially if your laundry is dirtier than mine.
Thank you, and God Bless America!
That was satire folks!
Speaking of satire, that leads us to the New Yorker cover. I am not putting it on here because it would distract me. Forget about Malibu Muslim Barbie Barack Obama and the flag burning in the fireplace. Let’s focus on Michelle Obama. I’ve always found her attractive, as I would any strong Black woman, but that Angela Davis afro made her the epitome of Pam Grier hotness. I had completely forgotten how beautiful we can look with our ‘Fros. I would have killed to have mine look like that one; whenever I got a blow-out kit it looked like an electrocuted porcupine died on my head. If Michelle went retro, she’d scare the shit out of Bill O’Reilly. Imagine her, in high def making a speech, her afro covering half the screen! Or even better, imagine her and Barack in that famous 70’s Black Love velvet painting, the one with the intertwined, Afro-clad naked Black bodies. I’d hang that on my wall. Too bad I can’t draw. Too bad Jet doesn’t do satire on its covers.
Lastly, here’s a story about “When Keepin’ It Privileged Goes Bad.” Doron Braunshtein is being sued by a woman who bought a $70 t-shirt that he designs. Let’s stop here. It’s a t-shirt with a slogan on it. There’s no bling, no rhinestones, no sparklies, no fancy designs, no signature from a rapper or a fashion mogul, and you still have to manually put it on. And there’s nothing on it but words. This shirt costs $70. I am not about to hate the player on this one. I have to give props to this hustle! I’m going to open up a shop in NYC that sells those day of the week panties for $100. A day. $150 for Saturday, because other people will probably see those.
But back to the shirt. A female grad student goes to Braunshtein’s store and buys a shirt that says OBAMA IS MY SLAVE. I don’t have to tell you what color this woman is for two reasons: 1. She paid $70 for a bland-ass t-shirt and 2. It said OBAMA IS MY SLAVE. Had it said “USHER IS MY SHEPHERD” we might have had to clarify the racial make-up of this individual. Grad school lady is bopping down the street in Union Square, listening to her iPod and wearing this shirt when suddenly, she’s accosted by four girls who want to whip her ass. Since women of all races like Obama, I must clarify that these were some ‘round the way girls. They gave the grad student a thesis on intimidation, spitting on her, yanking those damn iPod earbuds out of her ears and cussing her out so badly that Jesus wept. Grad student gets away with neither cuts nor bruises, upon which time she should have found her guardian angel and kissed his holy ass. Instead, she’s suing the guy who sold her the shirt.
Now before you come after me with all that Freedom of Speech bullshit, it’s time for the Big Media Vandalism word of the day. Kudos to my favorite book in the universe, Webster’s Dictionary for this definition.
Repercussion: an action or effect given or exerted in return : a reciprocal action or effect.
When I was in school, they told us that, just because you have Freedom of Speech, it doesn’t mean you can yell “Fire” in a crowded theater. But I think it does. However, as Spider Man tells us, with great power comes great responsibility. You can say whatever you want so long as you are ready to deal with the repercussions that may arise from your actions. People today seem to be missing the general notion of a consequence, so narcissistic are they that they believe their actions exist in a vacuum. I can go to Little Italy, grab my crotch and start yelling out certain words that begin with g or w, but I’d better have an asshole big enough for the feet that are going to be visiting it. I know not to do something like this, because somewhere along God’s assembly line, I got an infusion of common fucking sense.
Grad student allegedly was behind the door when God was handing out common sense. So I’m hoping they throw this case out of court with a quickness. I completely disagree with a shirt that contains such an inflammatory message, but the onus of responsibility in this case rests with the buyer. Now if only those girls knew the address of that store...Caveat Emptor, baby.
I can’t wait to see how the rest of this Presidential race plays out. I’m sure I’ll be back here in this troublemaking capacity again. I stand ready for any repercussions that shall arise.