#58: Twitter

Those of you who actually get down on Twitter shouldn’t even be surprised that it’s going on this list. Ghetto people love to tweet. And you can look in every single trending topic…it’s gonna be a majority percentage of ghetto people posting to it. Swearing they know what the hell they’re talking about. When usually it’s just some silly street sh*t they heard a few of their little friends say based on the latest rap song, then they run and tweet that like it’s the gospel.

And of course, just like any social media that falls into ghetto hands, there’s tons of sluts in the building too, with avatars of cleavage or the booty in nothing but panties, who for some odd reason have the nerve to post those little inspirational tweets. Shut the entire hell up, you ain’t no guru…ain’t you like 19? So many under-dressed broads who claim how Christian they are (as if that stands anyone on their ears) populate Twitter, it’s like you’re on BlackPlanet: The Next Generation.

Though they are fun to toy with on the Formspring app…but I digress.

Anyway, you can read these tweets and tell what really matters to ghetto people. One huge obsession is CHEATING. It’s a sign if the times really, because this world is fascinated with cheating, and ghetto people are no exception. So many of the ghetto population are products of misdirected lovin’, it’s only natural.

Not to mention one can look at the “following” versus “followers” of many ghetto Tweet-fiends and the high school tendencies that only a ghetto person can appreciate become clear, like the narcissism and begging for attention, the e-thuggery, the yappin’ all day about nothing…

But one has to admit, ghetto people are the spice of Twitter. Because otherwise one would be left with tweets about the Jonas Brothers or someone tryna plug their penis pump website or something.

BTW, you should follow us too!

#51: Halloween

Ghetto people get up for most all holidays. Usually because they’re excuses to get into certain activities. As mentioned a month ago, it’s the time to either eat like a pig, drink like a fish, smoke like a chimney maybe, party like a rockstar…or in the case of Halloween, do the following:
-dress like a complete whore. Used to be that females did like everyone else and dressed in rather silly costumes. While some still do, many chicks have latched on to this obsessive need to be a “sexy ____.” Sexy werewolf, sexy firefighter, sexy sportswriter, sexy person who cleans toilets, sexy bowling shoe disinfector (probably isn’t a word, who cares?), sexy serial rapist. Hell, there will probably be some fat ghetto girl who comes out in a bra and panties and says that’s her costume so she can get laid. Any excuse to wear tight revealing sh*t and get their cleavage drooled into like the attention whores they are, these tramps are now making the most un-sexy thing you can possibly think of “sexy”…perfect night for a ghetto girl to get knocked up at 2am. And she won’t know who the father is because he was masked up that night* and she was drunk off Incredible Hulks.
-be criminal and destructive. Throw eggs, play Bushwick Bill and rob little kids for their trick or treat bags, deface cars, or take it to the annual Detroit extreme: burn houses down on Devil’s Night. Putting innocent families who don’t have insurance on the street. Yep, there’s ghetto bastards ready to make a fun night miserable this weekend.
-get the little crumb-crunchers free candy. Hey, ghetto people love free crap and they wanna shut their kids up…what better way to kill two birds with one stone than to send their little bad *sses out in those cheap supermarket vinyl costumes (hey, screw getting creative) to go get candy that will have their heads jumping off their bodies for a week?

*Speaking of creativity, ghetto dudes 16 and up will likely just throw on a mask with their everyday gear, and call it a costume since they’re too “hard” to turn their swag off and really get silly with it. They just wanna hit up a party and look to come up…maybe on some skins, maybe on some money from knocking off a liquor store (save the hate mail), who knows.

Anyways, Halloween is simply there to usher in the ghetto holiday f*ckery that’s just getting started.

#45: Being ready for trouble when partying

Was watching NBC Nightly News while listening to beats over the weekend of this writing. Lester Holt suddenly mentions that there was a shootout at a bar on a snowy Thursday night in Toledo, Ohio, with fairly robust surveillance footage. Ghetto people know full well that’s not a strange occurrence. Sh*t goes down at bars, clubs, and party functions where ghetto people are in attendance. Ask that idiot C-Murder, he’ll break it down for you.

Hey, the life is hectic. There’s bound to be a bunch of dudes (or thuggish-ruggish lesbians) interested in acting out dormant Mobb Deep fantasies, wishing a fool would so they can dust off the line they’ve waited their whole life to say: “I’ll be right back.” These same folks probably do drive an Ac and keep a Mac in the engine. Probably mack to girls in the function with razor blades in their mouth ready to buck fifty somebody. Well, we at least know that’s how New York party animal thugs rolled back in the 90s…and a lot of fools’ tactics don’t necessarily change with the times…but I digress.

At spots where the ghetto people are in the building, that *ss gotta be prepared. Know the exits (not just for the fight or shootout, but even if the dancefloor gets a little tight). Keep the coat and the purse and your crew close by. Might need to tuck in your chain in case of the party getting robbed (that does happen). Know what you can grab to swing at somebody and knock off a block or two. Don’t stand anywhere near the bouncer (they tend to either get touched or do the touchin’). And have a good first step. Hell, you might even wanna get like homeboy at the 2:41 mark of the video and practice that little stolen base strut he was working to perfection. He’s obviously one ghetto person who likes baseball. This may not be #6, but you really can’t make this stuff up.

#44: T.G.I. Friday’s–and other “bar and grills”

Yo, f*ck T.G.I. Friday’s.

No, really…f*ck T.G.I. Friday’s.

I mean, as a restaurant, Friday’s is cool, you can slide off in there and get a proper meal that’ll stick to your ribs, feel good about life with the game or some random ESPN show on in the background.

The goddamn bars they have in them, however, are complete ghetto douchebag conventions.

And since ghetto people have a bad habit of f*cking off all the dedicated bars in town, leaving the security guards of said defunct establishments needing a post to work, you end up finding both varieties of meatheads converging on the local Friday’s. Somehow Friday’s shines as this supposed place to be.

This is especially the case in ghetto suburbs. Because these are places where the dedicated bars never existed to begin with, there’s a true obnoxiousness level one finds himself steeped in the minute they walk in. It’s hard for this author to wrap his head around. How in holy hell did Friday’s just become like the sh*t to ghetto people?

Really, it’s the douchiest place in the world. It’s lit like the developers of each location went nuts buying up the local f*ckin’ Lamps Plus. Other features of the decor make you think a barber pole just threw up on its walls and tables after having too many Friday’s drinks. Crowd consists of wannabe fat cat cigar smokers, the motorcycle club delegation (often Ruff Ryders), mutant looking females in the building to test drive the hair they just got done…for Friday’s of all places. How the hell does one try to get chose up in Friday’s? Whether it’s macking or bringing a date, you can’t hear a goddamn thing in there! And it gets stupid packed too. Ghetto people pack lots of patience for Friday’s because most people with half a brain and any dignity dig in their heels, spin 180 degrees and jump it off elsewhere.

It can easily be like this at the hood Chili’s, hood Applebee’s, hood Bennigan’s, what have you…but ALL T.G.I. Friday’s spots get this way after 4pm. This author is surprised they don’t just splurge for a DJ that likes to play Baha Men and Wang Chung, charge a dub admission, and introduce bottle service so ghetto people can really feel they’re doing it big.

Anyone reading this, please explain why the hell T.G.I. Friday’s is so f*ckin’ popular?

#43: Cookout holidays

There’s three types of holidays:
-the giftin’ kind (e.g. Chrismaboxihanukwanzakah AKA the whole month of December, Mother’s Day), where women and children always want some sh*t…
-the drinkin’ kind (NYE, St. Pats, Cinco de Mayo…really, all of them, but specifically those), the bar’s, club’s, liquor store’s, and freeloading female’s best friend, and…
-the grillin’ kind (could be the whole season of summer, but specifically Memorial Day weekend, July 4th weekend, and Labor Day weekend).

This is the type of holiday where there’s suddenly not a parking space in sight, mad kids you never met will be runnin’ around, and e’ybody feel like they can throw down. Swear they got the best ribs, the best carne asada, the best chicken, best brisket or brats or links.

Vegetarians, as you have probably figured out by now, ain’t welcome and the ghetto people who make up the bulk of the crowd will feel threatened by them and make remarks about how they can’t live without meat! So they’re up crap’s creek unless they’re interested in the potato salad with paprika and eggs and green onions and other random *ss ingredients (what in holy hell is a pimento?).

Anyway, all these foods you will take a plate of home, then forget all about as it goes bad inside your fridge…because you already know too many cooks spoil the pot(luck), but you gotta humor the sensitive bastards who made it lest you get made to feel feel guilty…

And of course you know what else is gonna happen when ghetto people get pepped up. That’s right, sweet babies, your ears will bear witness to the f*ckery known as a soundclash (clash being the key part of that term). Because there will be that DJ that doesn’t give a f*ck enough to have turntables as he opts for his dual CD player and a zip case full of bootlegs and burns of the same damn Tupac and reggaeton and oldies you can hear on a day heading home from work played with no kinda blends involved. That dude is also unequivocally over 35. And his opponent: that one cousin or boyfriend who swears his trunk rattlin’ *ss Chevy is bumpin’, so he just GOTS to have his door wide open as he wears Young Jeezy the f*ck out.

Oh, but there will be a wildcard, and that’s that dude that rides the wide *ss Harley with fringes on it. He’s sure to come rip snortin’ in the dance like he’s the absolute don playin’ Teddy Pendergrass or whatever super-lover artist was hot when he was younger.

Total noise pollution (which could get uglier if the karaoke starts) to add on to the air pollution of the burning flesh of the piggy piggy. Because the ghetto cookout just isn’t fine if the attendees can’t dine on swine. It’s a party, y’all, to which the 20-somethings will have blunts in rotation, the 13-year-old girls will bang out the stank dance of the month, and that one uncle the family suspiciously knows about is in the background grabbin’ his meat.

What, I was just talkin’ about the sliced beef!

#42: Daytime television

Once upon a time, the American afternoon was the home of Mike Douglas, soaps like Another World, game shows, reruns of prime-time hour dramas, and the greatest cartoons one could possibly wanna come home from school to. Maybe even a random movie…and this was on a Big 3 affiliate! As time passed and cable penetrated more homes than Ron Jeremy has college dropouts, habits began to change. Two people worked instead of one (the cable had to get paid for somehow!) and there was increasingly a different demographic at home. That’s when the car insurance companies, personal injury lawyers, for-profit vocational schools and such began advertising to replace the dishwashing liquid and peanut butter commercials. And the soaps, reruns, and especially the cartoons started getting s-canned in favor of judge shows and very. Trashy. Talk shows.

Let’s examine the messages presented here, shall we?
-vocational school:
“Yo’ *ss need to be in SCHOOL, you non-workin’ muhf*cka, so you can go get a job to feed all them bad *ss kids with!”
-car insurance:
“You can’t drive that bucket parked outside to go find a job with (since no one will hire folks who ride the bus) until you insure that b*tch! But it’s a bucket, so you can forget about full coverage.”
-weight loss surgery:
“We’re here to help the nation of fat bastards like you get a job and a date. And since you’re mentally and physically bankrupt enough not to mix in a walk or two and quit eatin’ bullsh*t, we’ll be more than happy to take your money and make you financially bankrupt as well!”
-bail bonds:
“Come to us, we’ll get your baby daddy outta jail so he can help raise them kids and pay them bills for you…or not.”
-tax and credit services:
“Fix your financial issues so you can move out your mom’s rest! So she can invite a man over and do naughty thangs without having to look at yo’ triflin’ *ss on her couch.”
-talk shows and judge shows:
“Do you really wanna look like these pathetic, uneducated, ugly, ghetto/fat/queer (probably all three) pieces of sh*t?”
“See the makeover these ex-nerds and miserable shrews got? They couldn’t buy sex at one point, yet look at them now! This can be you!”
“What kinda superhoe has no idea who fathered her kids? This bet’ not be you!”
“Raise your damn kids right lest you want some random dude in prison shouting at them. While longing to finger them inside their underwear.”
“We need guests dumb enough to air their dirty laundry and show their lack of decorum and intelligence on television. You need money. Give us a call.”
“Then again, don’t. All you’ll do is play yourself and millions will laugh at you just like you laugh at these bozos on the screen now.”
“Your mama didn’t raise you right and your daddy probably doesn’t even exist…let me be the parent you never had as I give you a crash course in the real world with this ruling.”
“Don’t you dare raise your kids on shows like these! We cancelled away the cartoons in order to make you buy cable for them to watch Nick and Disney on so they can talk about it with their little friends on the schoolyard. But what good parent plops them in front of the TV so that they think like these twerps? Send their Flamin’ Hot Cheeto eatin’, red-fingered *sses outside to play so they don’t end up an obese roly-poly like you!”
-soaps:
“If you’re lowbrow enough to watch this, you deserve this bad writing and bad acting we phoned in for you. And you actually tape this sh*t? Well…actually you have to tape it because people like you can’t afford a DVR.”
-all of the above:
“You have too much time on your hands. After a few days of this, if not mere hours, maybe it will sink in. Se habla espanol (even if you don’t, which keeps you from getting hired in CA, FL, and TX)”

The time slot between 10am and 4pm on the Fox, CW, MyNetworkTV, and independent stations (+ Big 3 affiliates in those podunk markets) is now home to television aimed at making you feel like a loser for being at home to watch it (instead of at work like every other red-blooded American is!)…or at least slightly better than the losers cast on it (who are ghetto to deeth for a reason). Social engineering at work free to air.

This has been a public service message from the SGPL Get A Life Association.

#40: 24/7 Alcoholism

You know how you see somebody and you just KNOW they been drekkin’? You know know how you SMELL somebody and you just know they been drekkin’?

Times ain’t that hard and it ain’t always a party. It is ghetto to be drinking, drunk, or have liquor breath if you’re not painting the town red, watching the game, doing champagne brunch, in the studio or casino, chilling with some skins, or simply meditating by self-medicating at the end a long hard day. There’s a time and a place for getting it in, and until then, gotta be about that self-control.

Something ain’t right about the cat having the alcohol dragon behind you in the checkout at the supermarket…at 9 in the frickin’ morning. Something ain’t right if you’re drinking before driving the kids to school, then having them drive you to the store to reload the clip on the way home so you don’t catch a DUI rap. Dude tryna mack up a freak at the bus stop when his eyes are dim and watery should be shot down by her. And ladies, y’all are douchebags if you’re drinking between the invite over a man’s rest and your arrival, then having the nerve to demand respect when you don’t respect yourself or him enough to come correct with the presentation.

This author sees you who was invited to hang out, got in the car immmediately fiending for a drink way too early in the day, and when the decision is made to play along, cop some drink and make lemons into the lemonade of laughs, you pass on sharing brew, wine, even Hennessy, in favor of satisfying your suspect Cisco fetish. Cisco, known to the hood faithful as crack juice! Your flipping the script and suddenly needing a drop-off immediately afterward to go babysit your friend’s child was addition by subtraction.

Matter of fact, calling these drinking situations ghetto is an insult to the term “ghetto.” Nah, it’s just flat out trifling.

And I don’t buy that one is expanding his mind when he’s doing dummy moves to begin with (the drink of choice being Thunderbird spiked with a Kool-Aid packet doesn’t help his case). That person is just bad at life. May as well smoke crill.

Author’s note: This entry coming up as #40 was purely coincidental….or not.

#39: The 4th of July

Those who know the hood well know ghetto people get up for July 4th.

Why is July 4th so special? For patriotic reasons? Probably not (unless a family member’s in the military). Not many in the hood really care to appropriate the idea of Independence Day. But hey, why not enjoy the day off, and the excuse to get up with good people?

But again, why is July 4th so special? One can barbecue or grill on Memorial Day and Labor Day weekends just fine…or any day in the summer.

So why is July 4th so special to ghetto people?

FIREWORKS.

The whole damn week leading to July 4th, the hood is awash with the report of shock and awe inducing illegal fireworks. There’s always that guy that has the M80s and cherry bombs and bottle rockets on deck, and ghetto people find that guy and get that hook-up.

Because safe and sane stuff like cone fountains and Piccolo Petes just don’t cut it. City ordinances are worth scoffing at since the police basically WILL look the other way (not hating, just telling the real). So those illegal fireworks are getting lit and put in the air like spliffs. It’s not a celebrashonnnnnn without ‘em!

And the culmination on the night of the 4th (when everyone exhausts their stash and drivers have to swerve out of the way of fireworks in the middle of the street like mines) is like a day in Afghanistan. Literally for some, because there will be likely gunfire in the mix too (not like New Year’s, but it happens).

Author’s note: Yeah, the holiday just passed over the weekend, but the relevance was too much to wait till next year for.

#35: Mixing liquor into soft drink bottles

Ghetto people love self-medicating just like anyone who frequents bars on Friday nights or grips a bag of smoke for a night of laughs over Madden. Thing is, ghetto people get it in so often, and knowingly in the most inappropriate times, that they have to find sneaky ways to accomplish the buzz they need.

Weed smokers have the pipe that’s shaped and colored like a metal cigarette (which this author can’t imagine feels good to rock between the lips when it gets extra hot, but it is nifty). Drinkers have the flask as one option, but warm liquor is quite vile, screwface-inducing stuff. Besides a flask looking some kind of way to own, your average round-the-clock alki doesn’t want to get caught making said screwface after a sip, so he needs a way around it.

Enter a bottle of your average soft drink.

Rum & Coke. Jack & Coke (Jack Daniels really needs Coke, because it tastes like gasoline). Gin & Socko was an old hood favorite (probably why Socko/Super Socco is absent from the market). And one this author arrived upon, rum in a coconut (Liz Blizz) Sobe!

It started with this African liquor that was on sale called Konyagi (supposedly Tanzanian, don’t care to fact check at the time of writing this). Gripped a bottle of it, sipped the Sobe just past the ridge below the neck, then poured the Konyagi in to just about the top. Give it a shake and, as long as it’s cold enough, you don’t taste anything but the Sobe…alcohol blends right on in so you can enjoy as normal, and the bend simply sneaks up on you later. So all you ghetto types who drink before you get in the club got something for the drive on the way there. Or the bus for any day of the week.

On one condition. Make dead sure that *ss mixes in some Orbit gum for your vomit breath…and use clear rum. Don’t be ghetto enough to commit the dummy move of this author and use a gold rum, lest you have this loud-with-alcohol swill that looks like you poured milk from your cereal into the toilet you just whizzed in. Also make sure you have somewhere worth going to and chilling at for a while, so you won’t be forced to have the mixer chilling in the freezer on a bunk night where you end up limping home early.

One benefit of the mixed rum & Sobe being in the freezer is that it usually won’t really freeze, and if it does, it melts rather quickly, so it’s immediately crispy cold and ready to go for the lush in you. Until next time, don’t say I never did anything for you.

#33: Hair shows

HAIR shows! F*cking hair shows.

The convention of feminine and campy flamboyance. Where the home-based stylists and their clients get their ideas. One of many reasons the stores run by Koreans sell the fake hair. And there’s a chance styles seen at one will turn up at a prom or two.

Alright, here’s the analogy to paint the picture for you:
Hair shows are to ghetto people what fashion shows are to the wine-and-cheese, Fancy Dan gay guys and child beauty pageants are to those loser Middle America redneck moms.

Some of the most ridiculous, impossible, Pantone-damning primary colored, Flavor of Love, job interview reject hair styles are what you’re gonna see at a hair show. Even hair magazines will steer clear of hair shows. But ghetto people get up for it like Texas gets up for high school football…and this author crams to understand either one.

So instead of a massive write up on it, it’s pictorial time….observe: