Archive for the Global Ninja Category

The Infamous Ninjas Cuff Season Survival Guide

Posted in black culture, black people, bustdowns, Cuffing, Dating, Global Ninja, hip hop, Music, Ninja Sports, Pimpin', Relationships, sideline hoes on September 26, 2013 by Dizzer

cuffs

 

 

I was perusing Instagram a couple nights ago, and couldn’t help but notice the influx of Memes flooding the timeline. For those unfamiliar, there are two kinds of Memes; those that make you laugh out loud, and those that give sad people with shit else to do a platform to put their business in the streets, while simultaneously complaining that their business is always in the streets (which also makes people like me laugh out loud).

Long story short, it’s cuffing season pimp! The draft is now in session. My cousin Jas is taking breaks from running lace fronts out of my deceased Big Mama’s house down in Florida to let y’all know her thick ass is single, and ready to get CHOSE! So, gather ‘round friends, negroes and countrymen. Lend me your ears….here’s what I’ve learned from your IG accounts about how to (and not to) get chose this season:

Rule number one…Never be number two. Like Ricky Bobby said, if you’re not first, you’re last! Believe that shit.  Reconcile it in your spirit. Sign up for second string, your ass will end up on the bench for most of winter. There are no injuries in cuffing season.

Turn down for what? Because posting pictures of your legs in a tub of bubbles relaxing or chilling at home making a bomb meal is way sexier than pictures of you indulging in “single bitches” activities. I don’t care what you’re wearing, what club you’re in or what you’re drinking, your #longasmybitchesloveme hash tags don’t hide the truth. NO ONE LOVES YOU. And that is why your ass is single. It’s called skill sets, bitch!

Real Life is cooler than the Internet. One of my girlfriends went out for her birthday three weeks ago. She didn’t snap pictures of jack shit. No selfies. No shoe shots. She took five shots, went on the dance floor, and met her a boo. No distractions, keep your head in the game (see what I just did right there?)

Follow chose bitches. Birds of a feather, right? Most chosen chicks aren’t posting much right now, because its game season, but there are a few flocks (basketball wives, Kevin Hart’s girlfriend, etc.) who will be posting until the season starts in October. Learn what you can now.

PSA: Don’t get caught up in thinking that because you’re just as cute as the chicks you see hooked up on reality television or the interwebs, that your standards of dating are remotely realistic. 6.03% of men in the United States make $100,000 or more. Not black men, all men. 47% of black women in the United States have never been married. There is an even more ridiculous percentage chance that men that fall in this category will run up on your ass in the club and cuff you. Your skill sets should determine your standards, not the other way around.  Have a good season folks!!

 

~Courtesy of our dedicated contributing Ninjas

 

If you like this, you’ll LOVE this one The Sideline Heaux Chronicles 

 

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You Are What You Read: Legs Wide Open…Eyes Wide Shut

Posted in black culture, black people, bustdowns, Global Ninja, Pimpin', sideline hoes, Uncategorized on April 12, 2012 by theninjaparade

*clutches chest and gazes to the heavens*

Why OH WHY must ya’ll make me act a fool like this?

I was chillin’….I really was.  Had stepped back from the blog scene for a sec, meditated, sought counsel, the whole nine.  But nooooooo, every time I try to get out, you all do some dumb shyt that keeps bringing me back in.  El Jugo is effectively the Michael Corleone of the ratchet blogosphere.

So here’s my dilemma:

I have a brain trust of feminine commentary that I turn to when utterly perplexed by the shyt women do.  This distinguished sorority of sistas lends me an everyday perspective on things that I, as a man, may be oblivious to.  They keep me from acting entirely on my impulses without first seeking a more enlightened perspective.  So, I’ve been seeing some crazy shyt and I text these chicks today.

Question:  What type of inferences can I draw from a chick reading, IN PUBLIC, one of those urban-erotica Zane-screw me hard on the desk of my supervisor so the security guard who’s been trying to get on can see-type books?

El Jugo’s Impulsive Response:  Oh…this bish is a runner, and wants ME to KNOW.

[Disclaimer:  before we confirm or deny whether El Jugo’s impulse is correct, let’s take a moment to analyze the Think Tank’s commentary.  Names changed to protect the innocent]

Giselle N.:  “I’m just sayin…she can’t say she’s reading it for the book club.  Chile please, cover up.” El Jugo’s sentiments exactly!  This is the equivalent of literary porn.  Granted, we at The Ninja Parade, encourage all women to thoroughly explore their inner freak, but damn babygril.  What type of attention are you soliciting??  Did you not notice me noticing you as your thighs rub together about some chick getting d!cked down in the shower?  Quit crossing your legs and read some damn Chaucer.

Janet E.: “If I were a guy, I would talk to them simply because they feel free enough to read a sex book in public, what else is she willing to do in public?”  Great. fcuking. questing. Janet.  Although I don’t think anyone deserves to be disrespected, regardless of her choice of reading materials…I do wholeheartedly reserve the right to discreetly think you’re a freak on the prowl.  What one reads is probably more indicative of their interests than what he or she listens to or watches on television.  Anyone can watch some random shyt on tv or get stupid song stuck in their head….but how many people reeeally read very graphic sexual exploits and aren’t at the least mildly interested in acting some of that shyt out? *crickets*

Pristina W.: “I’m all for women being comfortable in their sexuality…perhaps a sista should get a Kindle”  You see, everybody has a lil El Jugo in ’em.  I’m not saying you shouldn’t read erotica and touch yourself, but El Jugo gets offended at the suggestion that men shouldn’t draw conclusions about what’s in plain view.  You have a right to read whatever you want, just like i/we have a right to think whatever we want about it.  And if you can’t put that shyt down and MUST take it everywhere….damn, get a Kindle.  *Hi-five’s Pristina*

Anna N.:  “I mean maybe they just need some excitement in their lives.  In my opinion  women who read those books are not sexually fulfilled.”  Couldn’t agree more.  Not being fulfilled doesn’t entirely mean you’re not getting ANY…it means you’re not getting broke off by the shockingly intelligent dude who fixes your car on a late evening while your lackluster man gives you regular sex…ya know, the type of shyt that happens in the books.  Funny thing is, the guy that fixes your car probably hits on you every time and you don’t give him a blink.  Grow up and act that shyt out then…or at least leave a copy of that freaky shyt on your front seat next time famo changes your oil.

Cynthia B.: “They want to seem sexually empowered but are actually thirsty as hell.”  Damn, exposed.  Intellectualism, even feigned intellectualism cant hide true thirst.  And *leans in and whispers* it be them smarty art heaux that’s the most goin’.  Bish we see you.  And it’s not like this stuff is written in any way to suggest a true challenge of your scope of imagination…it’s designed to make you hot ‘n bothered.  Whereas some guys may see a book (any book) and think “scholar”…El Jugo checks the title and thinks “runner”.

Londa G. “I also think women who read those books don’t practice discretion.”  Wait…so not only are you thirsty, you messy too?? WTF ever happened to reading hair magazines?

See.  I told you.  El Jugo knows when a chick is, as one respondent eloquently stated, putting together a “marketing plan for the box”. But don’t let our commentary discourage you…it fact, let the transparency be what motivates you.

Go from me and thirst no more.

El Jugo

If you like this blog, you’ll love this one:  The Moscato-ization of Black America

The Everyday Black Woman & Beer: A Love Story

Posted in black culture, black people, Global Ninja, hip hop, Ninja Sports, ninjas, sideline hoes, Uncategorized with tags , , , , on June 23, 2011 by theninjaparade

The blogosphere, especially, is saturated with images and ideas of common sistas being inept, overly domineering, inconsiderate, and basically a bunch of onry bishes when it comes to relationships.  Bullshit.

“Not so!” , we say, here at The Ninja Parade.  All these females can’t be clueless and only #winning if they’re ridiculously gorgeous, with nice firm asses and breasts like casaba melons (or, more popularly…white).

Some of these chicks have to be doing well.  Real well.  We know the statistics, 50% of marriages end in divorce…that means 50% of them shyts last F-O-R-E-V-E-R.  And ya know what?  That’s alright with us, because the aforementioned “forever” is predicated on two looming premises that we like to conveniently ignore: 1- ninjas need love too…and it’s not just women wanting to be in long-term joints. 2- the women who want it…get it, sans the ridiculously fat asses and casaba melon-esque breasts.

Today, we’ll address the latter premise, and answer the burning question:

How do average, everyday, sistas attract, secure, and maintain healthy relationships with capable upstanding black guys??

It’s really quite simple…beer.

You see, Ol El Jugo was educated at one of the finest Universities around and the majority of our student population was comprised of African American women.  It was there that I noticed something peculiar about a certain group of women that ignited an informal case study that I’ve been conducting ever since with a working hypothesis that: sistas who could enjoy themselves in the presence of beer seemed to be cut from a different cloth then those who didn’t.

They just are.

Blame it on the fact that they probably had a father, or father figure, who drank beer and loved they mama…blame it on the “Homegirl Syndrome” that connects beer with sports (which is most men’s first love)…hell, blame it on the rain, but a sista and a nice frosty mug, into perpetuity, are as sexy (if not more so) as stelletos/boy-shorts/wifebeater combination that we’ve grown to love.

Soooooo…

Instead of clowning heaux, which we have become quite infamous for, today we shall uplift, rejoice over, and dare I say…champion the marginally attractive-to-fine black woman with beer.  Today we’ll get our Special Agent Dr. George Huang from Law & Order: SVU on…and create a profile of these beautiful beer-clad nubian princesses.

Scenario One: She’s Married, buying Beer at the Grocery Store.  This bish IS. IN. LUH. Not just in luh, but a champion. No seriously.  She’s the epitome of winning.  Not simply because she’s married, but because she sees the value of beer’s synergistic magic in the peace and sactity of her household.  She gives good (not great) dome, washes clothes in Gain, and makes a mean ass homemade taco.  Not only that, she gives her husband the obligatory 45 minutes of complete silence that he needs upon entry of the home. She secretly runs the show, while making him feel like a Kang. *salutes* [Editor’s Note: the beer doesn’t actually have to be for him, if lil mama needs to throw back a cold one to shut the fcuk up...May God & Klkeninja keep her.]

Scenario Two: She’s Married, buying Beer at the Liquor Store.  Location, location, location.  Ok, she’s got the right idea…just hasn’t been married as long and jawn in Scenario One, but was surely mentored by her.  She get’s the big picture, however, the fact that she’s at the liquor store…when she was undoubtedly at the grocery store, or at least rode past it, earlier suggests her priorities are a bit out of whack.  It’s all good boo…we see you though.  Maybe daddy wasn’t there growing up, but your dedication to the cause of not coming home without a cold and refreshing Heineken, suggests she makes the best grape Kool-Aid in the contiguous United States AND definitely has hood tendencies and is probably a hood chick. (not to be confused with a Hood Rat. See also: Hood Chicks vs. Hood Rats) She keeps dish soap in the bathroom (why? we have NO CLUE, maybe it loosens the glue in her tracks better, or her nigga is just as hood and likes his boo to smell like Lemon Joy fresh out the tub…who knows?), but she’s winning.  Times get tough, but she knows where to go for comfort. *kee-chee* <—that’s the sound of a cold one being cracked open, and of winning.

Scenario Three: She’s Single, buying Beer at the Grocery Store.  Legendary football coach Vince Lombardi is quoted as saying…”success comes from knowing that you did your best to become the best that you are capable of being”. The single woman in the grocery store choosing between Yuengling Amber Bock and Newcastle Brown Ale is a champion in the making.  When you see her grab that 12-pack, take note of that moment in history.  It is a young Michael Jordan raising up over two Georgetown Hoyas defenders in ’82.  It’s magical.  And any woman who has ever bought beer in a grocery store and been approached by SEVERAL men can attest to the starry gaze they/we have in their/our eyes.  She may not cook or clean that well, but you’ll never hear her complaining about *Allen Iverson voice* practice?  Why? Because that’s where champions are made and she knows it.  And if you think niggas aren’t slick judging you when you host cookouts, Super Bowl parties, baby showers where men are invited, and any other shyt that would allow any man to glance into your fridge and see a beer that *looks* like its been there for a while…you crazy as hell.  We see that shyt and we’re either gonna shoot our shot right then, or toss an assist to one of our single homeboys and let him know just how special you are.  Real talk.

Scenario Four: She’s Single, buying Beer at the Liquor Store.  This bish just like drinking beer…and I ain’t even mad at her.  There’s a certain sexiness to women who independently purchase and consume beer.   I’ll bet two paychecks that ol girl has a great sense of humor and nice rack, and even if she’s not into sports (which she probably is)…she’s smart enough to enjoy a good game and *wait on it* …shut the fcuk up from tip-off and last shot.  Unlike the other three scenarios, where the purchaser could easily be buying for another person (presumably male), nah…jawn likes beer and drinks beer.  She’s the independent woman that pop culture song writers write about without all the pomp and circumstance.  She is in complete ownership of her social life, whether romance works out for her or not she can rest on her blessed assurance that when that nigga don’t call back she can paint her toenails, throw back a cold one, and bump that new Jill Scott until she goes to sleep and tomorrow will be a new day. God is able…ahhhhhshaddabowshay!

“I don’t always drink beer, but when I do…” – The Most Interesting Man In The World.

~ El Jugo

****if you liked this Blog, you’ll love: The Sideline Heaux Chronicles

I Got The Victory: These Heaux Is WINNING

Posted in black culture, black people, bustdowns, Global Ninja, hip hop, Music, sideline hoes, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , on June 16, 2011 by theninjaparade

Spoiler alert bish!

It’s the second quarter of 2011, and if you haven’t noticed, MVP Kim Kardashian is wearing a Sierra-Leonian knee cap on her left ring finger. Leading the league in assists is Evelyn Lozada. [Formerly noted for running behind cars in heels, Lozada,  has moved on from the Rookie of The Year victories of head for handbags to the All Star team of wifey/ aspiring baby mama]

And, please… Spare me the cries of hate that “That ish won’t last” and “she’s not happy” commentaries because their sponsors are black and their lambos are blue ninja! The heauxs are winning, plain and simple. Here’s why:

Heaux Skills Are Transferrable: Gone are the days when a heaux was just a heaux. Neo-heauxs are bringing back the Margie Hendricks brand of heauxing. The self-professed Mrs. Ray Charles Robinson on the road was his wife away from home, not just nookie. She was ride or die, contributed to his financial gain and, most importantly, she shut the fukc up! {see klkeninja’s “ Put a ring on It “ post.}.  Heauxs are making dollars and sense as the low-key, high-return alternative to wifing loud ass, broke ass chicks who can’t cook and hate their jobs.

Keeping His Name Hot in These Streets:  That’s right, while you were at the bar screaming “ninjas ain’t sh!t”, heauxs were having the BEST YEAR EVER. Heauxs are becoming better at talking to the right people. Talking to your girlfriends about him gets him nowhere… talking to the press keeps him relevant. Heauxs are the best PR for ninjas in NFL-lockouts, bad seasons, jail stints and whatever fukcup your man has gotten himself into. Ladies, trust me and Beyonce, be the light that keeps the streets on and upgrade his reputation whenever you get the chance. If you don’t, the heauxs will (and heauxs  will light it up on twitter, faceook, vimeo, foursquare and via press release while yo’ ass sits up somewhere hating)

Heauxs Have Money:  Get your weight up BISH!! Heauxs are bringing their own money to the table. Regardless of who they threw a drink on to get it, neo-heauxs have dough. So, why are they chasing money, you may ask? This isn’t about getting money for them…it’s about doubling money and stackin that shyt.. Longevity. Stability. Twenty-Four hour champagne diets! Selling Body Magic is not an entrepreneurial plan, honey! And for this reason, girls, your man is on to the next one…

Heauxs are Heauxs: I know what you’re thinking:  “This chick is a heaux.” Not exactly. I just know what I want out of life (name that tune). I’m a believer in fundamental truths begetting other truths. The Secret, or positive visualization, works because it stands on the fundamentals of faith. Heaux visionaries understand that keeping him focused in the bedroom lessens idle time in the streets. I employ said fundamental tendency in my marriage. Yes, homie, marriage. Get you one!

[Disclaimer: The mayhem and foolishness spewed in the above article is indeed the shared viewpoint of a population of happily married women who ain’t mad at heauxs for being heauxs. All subsequent emails (which can be forwarded to yomommawasaheaux@yodaddyiswinning.com) will receive automated messages of the “Put a Ring on It” post strictly re-inforcing your need to STFU and listen.

~The Fundraiser

****if you liked this blog, you’ll love: The $15 Million Dollar Question

Little Girl Lost: Confessions of A Sista, That’s Been There…Done That

Posted in black culture, black people, bustdowns, Global Ninja, Music, niggas, ninjas, Pimpin', sideline hoes with tags , , , on June 15, 2011 by theninjaparade

“LOVE?  You know, what do you know about love? What do you possibly think you know about love? You know LOVE should have brought your ass home last night!”

[Editor’s Forward:  As stated in other blogs, we at the Ninja Parade are taking great strides to diversify our content.  Our ignorance can no longer be confined to the sheer mockery of society and putting a muthafuka on blast for kicks and giggles…but we desire also, to show our softer, more compassionate, ignant side.  Enjoy, ~The Infamous El Jugo]

Little girl lost

I’m a virgin to the ninja parade [Editor’s Note: …and to the Ninja Parade only] but I’m going to rock this shyt like I’m Tyler Perry at a Women in White “Usher Board” Baptist Church convention.  

So, my so called adult life started out like a story straight out of black college life weekly.  Girl goes to black college, pledges sorority, meets boy, falls in love, dates all through college, gets married, and *wait for it*… Divorces boy.

Then I spend the next two years grieving over a failed marriage. <<cues up Mary J. Bilges’ “I’m Not Going To Cry“, blazes blunt of that Afghan, sips Pinot>> to say the least, I was a fcking wreck <<insert picture of fcuking wreck>>  

I am ashamed to admit it, but I even thought of several ways in which to ruin my ex husbands career. *yeah, I was on some bitter sour apple b*tch shyt*

I even went through his emails and forwarded out all his philandering emails with other women [See Also: The Sideline Heaux Chronicles, vol 1] to his new main chick.  I must say, that was some of my best work.  I had to show the New b*tch, I mean new chick, nah…I mean bitch:  he cheating on you and you just a couple months in, heaux [See Also: The Sideline Heaux Chronicles, vol 2].  You not special…bwhahaha…But I digress.

As more time passed, I discovered that I was in fact a little girl lost.  I didn’t know what I wanted out of life anymore.  I didn’t know what true love meant anymore.  I questioned everything that I once knew to be fact.  All I knew was that, things changed and they were not for the better.

I spent day in and day out working, hanging out occasionally, and just surviving.  It’s like my life was on auto pilot and Phyllis Hyman was singing the soundtrack to my new life. *and we know how that story ended*  <<cues Phyllis Hyman “Living All Alone”, takes extra long hit of that Afghan, sits down glass of Pinot…picks up bottle>>

And while the days have gotten better, it’s still an uphill battle to find myself again and I’ve currently drawn the following conclusions…

  1. I Don’t Know Shyt About Men…I Admit it…You F*ckas Confuse the Shyt Out of Me.  Some of you ninjas want a quiet submissive woman, some want you to be they momma, and others want you to be a fucking mind reader…I give up…you win…Ill just love on B.O.B till I figure out an alternative…<<insert images of Bullet named Leroy>>
  1. I’m a Strong Punk…What I mean by this is…I cry about everything, yet I manage to pick myself up and get right back on the horse.  At first I thought this showed my weakness, but I have learned it shows my never give up nature. <<cues “We Fall Down” by Donnie McClurkin with strange vibrating sound in back>>
  1. The biggest thing I hate to admit it  *drumroll* As Much as I Want to Say I Don’t Need or Want a Man, I Know That is The Farthest Thing From MY Truth.  I need and want the right man for me. But I have to learn to stop fucking up with the good ones, and allowing the bad ones to stay passed their expiration date. <<insert picture of jobless ex-boo, in dingy, loose-fitting wifebeater, rolling blunt on formica end table>>

I’ve always been told the first step to healing or solving a problem is to admit it.  So here it is.  I am a lost little girl who is trying to find her way in life and love with a broken compass.  I think its time to ditch the compass and actually learn from my mistakes, listen to sound advice from creditable individuals, and trust that tiny voice inside that I have ignored in the past.

~ Aye Red The Ninja

**if you liked this blog, you’ll love: The Basic B!tch Home Testing Kit

You ARE Your Hair: An Open Letter to The Natural Hair Nazis

Posted in black culture, black people, Global Ninja, ninjas, Uncategorized with tags , , on June 1, 2011 by klkenned

Dear Natural Friends,

Allow me to begin with a disclaimer:
First, not everyone with natural hair is a bitch. Second, I attended a historically black college (in fact, the first historically black college)so I know all about oppression, European standards of beauty, and society’s impact on my psyche. I get it. You are not your hair.

And neither am I, BITCH.

Recently i had the opportunity to come under the ire of The Natural Nazi. A friend tweeted, during the Super Bowl, “My daughter has hair like Troy Palamalu.” I retweeted, as my daughter is similarly situated,  and moved on, unprepared for the shitstorm that followed. @afrobitch47 (not her real tag) said, “congrats?” Then @nappyheadhoe21 (also not her real handle) said “I know right? Does she want a cookie?” Then @nap4life (made that one up, too) throws in some shit about me having a “slave mentality.”

Bitch, what?

So let me set s few things straight here. First, in the effort of full disclosure,  I am a jiggaboo (rather be me than you). My confirmed European ancestry is not only lacking an appearance in my skin tone, but in my hair texture as well.  Without a relaxer, I have hair like a slave. Like a pure, uncut, fresh off the shores of Ghana, slave. So to be clear:

This is not an assault on your choice of hair styles. This is an assault on your excessive bitchiness as it pertains to your constant insistence that anyone with a perm (or who might not *need* a perm) is demonstrating a “slave mentality” for appreciating their silky locs, whether they were achieved naturally or not. So before you engage me on the merits of being chemical free based on some sort of effort to thwart the psychological impacts of The Man, allow me to remind you of some undeniable facts, none of which are based on science, data, or historical accuracy.

Here goes:

Natural isn’t always natural. Why do The Natural Nazis give the Relaxed such a hard time, but they can dye their locs all kinds of orange? So what you’re saying is, I can blow dry the shit out of my hair, causing as much damage as a relaxer, dye it blonde, but slide some dark and lovely on it, and now I’m a victim of the oppressor’s standard of beauty?

Are you serious right now?

Natural Hair isn’t impacting your dating life. But you looking homeless and unloved is. You’re over here thinking men don’t want you because your natural hair indicates a  woman who might be “too strong” for them when in actuality, it might indicate a woman who has questionable personal hygiene. You might struggle in love because you think “natural” means not having to shave your upper lip. Seriously, wax that shit.

Natural hair is not easier/cheaper to care for. There are women who can do their own hair, and there are women who can’t and therefore pay a lot of momey to have someone else do it. A perm doesn’t dictate the difference. Your inability to follow the directions of a youtube video does.

Natural hair ≠ Revolutionary. You’re not an intellectual. You’re not a visionary. You’re not “different.” You’re not making a statement with your hair, unless that statement is, “I’m a pretentious asshole.”

Natural hair is NOT for everyone. This is an undeniableFACT. I recently saw a woman who had chosen to cut her hair into a fade. This is not a good idea if you’re not sure of the actual shape of your head, or the potential to have what appears to be a pack of hotdogs on your neck. Or, most importantly

You’re ugly.

Natural hair  only emphasizes your natural beauty. And if you are unfortunate enough to not have any of that, it only emphasizes the fact that you might look like a wildebeest. Know what you need? Two packs of indian remy, cut with a long side swept bang, Aaliyah style, to hide half of your hideous facade so that I can talk to you without throwing up in my mouth.

I haven’t relaxed my hair in over a year, but I hold that secret close to my chest because I don’t want to be associated with people who think it’s a good idea to make people with hair like Troy Palamalu feel bad about it.

So instead of exposing your own self-consciousness about your own “situation” by telling me what to do with mine, you should probably just…

STFU.*

*I tried. I seriously tried to write a blog where I wouldn’t have to tell someone to STFU, and I failed :/
Oh well.
Please direct your hatemail to idontgivefuck@yamama.com.

*raises black power fist*
Love, peace, and hair grease,

Klkenned
@klkeninja on the twitter

The 3 Things We Always Talk About…That Are Generally Imaginary

Posted in black culture, black people, Global Ninja, niggas, Pimpin', sideline hoes, Uncategorized on May 25, 2011 by theninjaparade

Ok, so again, I must collectively pull the card of my real friends, and social media friends by exposing the impending delusion of the outlandish shyt ya’ll say.  As we all struggle for relevance in a cluttered world, let us please do so with a touch of class, a shred of integrity, and most of all…a healthy dose of truth.

Here are three things that people [READ: black folks] commonly pontificate about:

1) HATERS.  *long drawn out sigh*  Let’s put this thing to rest, for once and for all.  Haters are real, but unless you are in the upper-tier leadership of some religious, professional, academic, social, philanthropic, or cultural movement AND/OR have a net worth (after taxes, in cold hard cash) of 6-figures or more…AIN’T NOBODY THINKIN ABOUT YO BLACK ASS.  That’s not to say people don’t hate you, because they probably do.  But hating you, and hating “on” you, are two different things.  They can’t hate on you, because despite how cold you think your knock-off purse collection is, how hard you stunt in fake Polo shirts with cloudy diamond chains…you really ain’t shyt, for real. And if you’ve tweeted, facebooked, skyped, or texted someone more than once in the last 30 days about “haters”…you still ain’t shyt.  People don’t like you because you’re self-absorbed and delusional…not because they want to be you, be like you, or anything else.  [NOTE: offering a critical opinion of you does not in anyway constitute “hating”, and having a “I don’t care what other people say” mentality is a sure way to end up less effective in your endeavors and ultimately alone…you’re welcome.]

2a) CORPORATE THUGS.  This is even more ridiculous.  Look, you’re either corporate, or you’re thuggin…that’s it.  Even if you’re corporate and you’re engaged in felonious activity, I doubt it’s huggin the block and plotting moves on rivals…get the FCUK out of her and go try and figure a way to defraud the government on tax money ninja.  And if you’re thuggin, having working internet and two button-up shirts doesn’t make you any more corporate than standing in a garage makes you a damn car.  Owning a “promotion company”, or record label with less than 50,000 units, or mobile auto detail doesn’t count either.  I don’t know what’s more ridiculous, the fact  Jay-Z (et. al) have collectively sold you a dream of some suited intelligent business man who runs into a phone booth (ala Clark Kent) and hops out a dope slangin’ hood superhero…OR that stupid ninjas actually try to make this dream a reality.  Dudes who talk about how they can switch it up and go from hood to professional don’t know what either of the two are.

2b) CHICKS WHO SAY THEY WANT A CORPORATE THUG. These heauxs are just as stupid as the ninjas who perpetrate the act.  I can’t tell you how many times, in conversation, I’ve heard a woman say she wanted a man who was educated and well-groomed with stable secure benefits and values…but also Bunz from Belly at the core.  Bish please!  And where, pre tell, do you expect to meet this knight in shining armor, ma’am?  “Giving back” at a work-release sponsored community fundraising All White Party?  Or maybe mentoring young thugs on how to dopeman their way through grad school and still write an effective thesis? *smh* Go to hell.

3) ELITE AND ESTABLISHED SISTAS THAT ONLY DATE THUGS. *even longer and more drawn out sigh than before*  Let’s start with the basics…most women only stunt and front to be more secure/established than they really are.  That said, for those that aren’t fronting and really do have their ducks in a row…the odds of her dating ManMan from the block are so astronomically slim it’s not even funny.  TV, and black romance novels, have really got ninjas fooled out here.  If you’re working with an 11th grade education and 2 felonies, ain’t no way in the East or West side of Hell you get a shot at some BAD chick graduating from Med/Law/Professional school.  Even if she slick dumb as hell on relationship end and says she wants a guy with an “edge”…she really means she’ll let ANY doctor/resident/dentist smash and as long as he listens to a little rap music and is cool with her uncles smoking joints at the family picnic…not YOU doeboy.  Unlike the previous points, I’ll concede that these women may actually exist, “I” just don’t know any of them.  And even if some random hood nigga does wind up with a degree’d up star…he’s known her FOR-EVER, like forever-ever, back when she was rockin’ the pony tail on the side of her head and wasn’t shyt and managed to stay in the running long enough.  Otherwise, you have no chance.  The man shortage ain’t that bad pimp, and elite women have more options then they’ll admit, before they make it that far down the list to let you roll blunts on her Formica countertops.

Welcome back to reality.

~ El Jugo

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