Typically, the word snob has such a negative connotation. Giving off the air of arrogance and self-entitlement that you’re perhaps used to experiencing virtually through drunken rich white girls on the PCH mowing down the paps. But I don’t operate in that tax bracket, skin tone or weight class, so my snobbery is not about that.
No, no … my snobbery is a much, much different thing. I am a member of W.E.B. DuBois’ “talented tenth (if you don’t know about it google that shit up. I don’t have the time right now to tell you). I have sat on the sidelines watching things people turn like maladjusted, disease-ridden tricks into giant vat of “good Lord, HELL NO!” I thought I could hold it in a few years back when it was Omarosa breaking multiple protocols of while BIP – “black in public.” But then it became 50 Cent. Then Katrina happened. And BET. MY GOD! B F-ING ET! When one day it straight up morphed into a softcore porn channel, a naked minstrel show sans the blackface (although I suppose bold, dangerous indifference could stand in for the caked on black shoe polish.)
OJ. The word “crunk.” Don Imus and Michael Richards thinking screaming the n-word was a punchline. The devolution of Flava Flav. Half of America’s prison population being black when we only make up 12 percent of the population. “Bling Bling” being used by white journalists on television. Having both Aaron McGruder and Dave Chappelle remove themselves from the respective geniuses that they created (one because he was exhausted. The other because he was exhausted and questioned if he was helping the cause of black folks as his humor could be easily manipulated by those who despise those with permanent tans that you can’t spray on and don’t fade with the coming of cloudy days.) And seriously, what am I supposed to read for my comics Aaron? Candorville? What about ME! What about the kids?
And now Michael Vick. On top of it all, I had to return home to St. Louis, simultaneously one of the coolest and most racially sodomized places in North America just above the Mason-Dixon line.
And that’s just the race stuff. I haven’t even touched my hatred for crocs, strechy black gauchos that show every dimple of fat and the Tyra Banks Show. (Tyra, I love. Her as a talk show host, she just lost me on the fat suit episode where she had the fatties consoling her. You wore a fat suit for five minutes, they’re fat everyday. Suck it up, woman!) My disdain for grown men who still live as children. For women who blame everyone for their problems but themselves. The entire slate of Democrats and Republicans running for president. Reality Television. Rupert Murdoch’s bid for world domination. The price of gas. Fellow St. Louisian (Florissant native!) Kimora Lee Simmons repeatedly referring to herself as fat on her infantile show on the Style Network. I mean, I’ll still watch the crap, because I kind of love her tacky, black-Korean-Japanese, 6’4″ psychotic, “fiercely fabulous” Florissant, Mo ass. And no one does tacky like blacks and Asians, and whoa, she’s both so she’s got crazy tacky in spades.
The fact that saggy jeans are still going strong after nearly 15 years makes me wanna holler. Throw up both my hands. If I didn’t think it was hot to see your underwear in 1992 when I was 14 I most certainly won’t find it anymore attractive now.
Belts, my brothers! Start a revolution. Dress like you know that the definition of underwear is that you wear it under your damn clothes.
And Taye Diggs. DAMN, I hate Taye Diggs. I don’t know why. I just do.
I just can’t take it anymore! I think the thing that officially drove me to the realization that I had to become a snob was when I was at Barnes n’ Noble and there was a fellow with one of those damn Blue Tooth doo-dads in his ear; those gaudy things that make you look like an extra from “Star Trek.” And they were talking, loud as hell and like a fool, I looked to see who he was talking to, thinking perhaps he was directing his raised volume at me. Of course, he was only talking to the little man in his Sci-Fi ear. And that was enough.
If you hate ignorance. If you hate how people are ignorant of black history, American history, world hisotyr and can’t find China on a map.
This blog is for you.
And if you hate how the music industry hijacked hip hop once they realized controversy could turn a profit, especially if it was manufactured in the form of a bullet-ridden corpse. If you hate how people are so willing to sell vulgarity, violent, vitriol and vice to just so they can go drench themselves in a rain of shimmering blood diamonds and proclaim themselves soldiers, pimps, kings or gangstas when they’ve never served in the military, never peddled flesh, do not have a royal birth right and to paraphrase De La Soul, when it comes to being gangsta “the only Italians they knew was Icee.”
This blogs is for you.
Together, we will get some relief. I will vent. You will comment. You will vent. I will comment. We’re going to get through this together.
My topics are politics, music, celebrity, fashion, TV/Film, trends, gender, dating/marital/family, being single in the internet era, the war(s), current events, race (all of ’em, not just us self-absorbed Negroes and Caucasians) and mental health issues. Also, as a Libra, I’m a sucker for beauty. So, don’t be shocked if I luck up on a good day and decide to wax poetic on the latest gift from heaven that has come down to burn us all in a pleasureful inferno of desire and envy.
And I’ll try to update with some degree of frequency, but … work with me … I’m a bipolar, agitated, bitter insomniac. So … we’ll just see what we can see, shall we?