#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.

#49: Loving Mom and hating Dad

Let this author frame the following for you in a way that ghetto folks understand.

In the hood, the boys are known to go back and forth with really incendiary jokes about their opponent’s relatives. Ghetto people all know (or at least are convinced) they pops ain’t sh*t, so baggin’ on dads doesn’t rate because it ain’t that effective. But baggin’ on moms is where you can get some laughs and do some real damage. Those sessions get charged like hemi Dodges.

Not to mention note the difference in attendance at buffet restaurants close to the hood for the Champagne brunch on the second Sunday in May versus the third Sunday in June. If pops is there on Father’s Day, it’s likely he’s paying his and everyone else’s way. Whereas moms on Mother’s Day probably has a brand new Lexus with that douchey red bow on top in the parking lot when she comes back out…with an LCD TV, Coach bag, shoes from Aldo, and that damn basket gift wrapped in the trunk! All of this chipped in for by her doting offspring, as if she made them by all by herself.

It’s just something about mothers with ghetto people. They can do ZERO wrong in one’s eyes. Have kids with mad multiple different dudes (that their man-sweatin’ *sses give priority over said children), end up in prison on credit card scams (even ruining their own kids credit so they can’t finance a car or house in the future), beg for help from the kids the rest of their triflin’ lives using the “dirty diapers” trump card for pacification, and be an otherwise complete bastard to them…and they still hold momdukes on a pedestal.

Pops could give a kid a little less money than he was able to earn that week, and he’s the worst! Person! In the worrrrrrrrld! Ghetto people have daddy issues arguably worse than they do police issues. Yeah, we all know of the deadbeat dudes who only care about chasing new draws and bolt at the first sign that old girl is with child. But ghetto society got so jaded from even hearing about those guys that dudes that are out to do right can’t catch a break. Can’t win custody in court or nothin’…even when the punk *ss mama is literally a meth and crack addict on the stroll 16 hours a day.

And you wonder why muthaf*ckas wanna get married less and less each passing year…

#48: Talking to people any kind of way

You ever text someone and get the response “who the f*ck is this?” and wonder why that was even necessary? You think to yourself that you could see the need to ask who someone is if you’re just curious, but did it require the seasoning of such a hostile fighting word like an F-bomb?

Ever been in line at the liquor store or the chicken and Chinese spot to see an interaction where the customer begins to flare his or her temper and begin spewing forth curses and racial and sexual orientation epithets and such as if that’s really going to get them better service as opposed to their dinner spit into? Way to resolve a dispute. The Newport you just smoked didn’t take the slightest edge off of your stress apparently.

Ever get on the bus or train knowing damn well once you get over by the local high school, parental discretion is advised? Have these kids heard nothing about how to act at home and abroad among polite and other mixed company?

Have some ghetto people lost their home training or are they simply showing they never had any in the first place? Are these folks having a series of bad days, are they just A-holes like that, or were they taught that this kind of language and attitude towards any random *ss person really is peace? And the majority of these twerps dare to assert what kind of “good Christian” they are…

Surely these same people don’t like being talked to any kind of way…unless they’re Likes To Fight Guy on the “I wish you would” tip looking to take it to someone’s chest. Oops, almost forgot, women fight with their mouth, and if you get into it with a ghetto girl, you just might shed a tear or two…because they’ll cut loose and be meeeeeeean! Really mean! You kiss your kids with that mouth, booch?

All this vulgarity, rowdiness, and belligerence from so many hood folks. Desensitized to the point zero empathy is there, zero decency, zero sense of how to treat people, even those you disagree with.

The disease has fully infected the hood, polluted Hip-Hop as a whole, the children are a bunch of potty mouths…I mean this ain’t the 50s and all that, a little colorful language expands minds every now and again…but don’t you the reader find it gets a bit over the top? Wouldn’t it seem uncalled for and inappropriate if you heard it, for lack of a better example, on Saturday morning cartoons?

What is the ghetto person’s hypertensive fascination with using cuss words?

Or the other one you should love that ghetto brothers especially drip like water? “My n*gga.”

Every five words if you eavesdrop on one of their conversations (or are forced to hear it due to the obnoxious loudness), it’s “my n*gga this, my n*gga that, my n*gga my n*gga my n*gga.” You would think they just saw Training Day for the first time the night before. It replaced “you know what I’m sayin'” earlier this decade for most overused ghetto verbiage.

It is said that people who can’t control their tongue can’t control their actions. Now if you notice such behavior in a person, why would you think it’s a good idea to make them company you keep? Or in the case of one of those Bridezilla grooms, marry it?

#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.

You can’t make this stuff up #5

Out on the town a few weeks back, I spotted the following:

Yeah, it’s the ghetto Lady Deathstrike. A female Freddy Krueger. And she looked about 40 something running with her boyfriend that was probably 28 or 30. So she’s been studying at the Cougar Den. And her thickness indicates she was taught to kill her own food using those.

You guys can’t tell in the pic, but those things were quite thick and sturdy lookin’. Can’t imagine bangin’ her walls out and her carving one’s back up with those talons (not saying I wouldn’t poke–she had a nice meaty rack and, as you can see, a serviceable rump). What practical use could she have for those things? Maybe to sniff 2 lines worth of coke at once? And why do chicks with these swords on their fingers always have jobs that involve typing?

Author’s note: Yeah, it’s the first post in 30 days. Had been out enjoying summer for one (freaks, sneakers, drinks, you know the deal). Beyond that, what’s the point of casting pearls to swine, AKA these recent commentators who take this blog on face value and swear they know what this author is talking about better than I do. Reminds me of people who buy magazines for the pictures and not the written content. Those who see me drop it over on Kicks On Fire and Very Smart Brothas know the real deal. Anyway, all that is to say I’m alive and well.

#37: Naming kids after products

You can tell who the clubhoppers and carhoppers were by the names their kids have.

Lexus. Alize. Remy (on a girl). Mercedes is a traditional name, but ghetto folks think of the car brand. Same inspiration behind Porscha, derived from when folks would pronounce the car company Porsche like Portia (of Julius Caesar and Ellen’s wifey fame). It’s a surprise no one has seriously named a child Cadillac or Hpnotiq.

Girls tend to be the victims of such names and are doomed to be turned down out of hand for legit gigs and forced onto the stripper pole or into the porno industry, with the only bright side being no need to invent a handle.

The comedian Renee Hicks once clowned the mentality behind it with the example of a then-popular Volkswagen slogan. “Fahrvergnugen…that’s a pretty name. Fahrvergnugen Rashawn Johnson!”

There’s nothing pretty, classy, or exotic about it at all. Chlamydia sounds exotic too but should it be a baby name? Waaaaait a minute!

And A-list celebrities aren’t much better in this regard either. Gwyneth Paltrow and Coldplay’s Chris Martin named their daughter Apple. They must have laughs about it in retrospect. Apple Martin? Imagine the Spanish pronunciation of the last name. Musician Frank Zappa named a child Moon Unit…sounds like the shape of a deuce dropped in the toilet.

Far be it from this author to tell parents what to name their children, or to discourage originality with the snobbery of the corporate world in mind, but how much foresight blurring does it take to sign these names onto the birth certificate? It’s like my rule on tattoos: will whatever you get etched into your body at 20 represent you at 60? If not, you the responsible party get the punishment you deserve.

For example, the guy who had his love of watching ESPN in mind when he named his son needs to be drawn and quartered by his head, arms and balls.

#27: Thuggish-ruggish lesbians

Has it gotten to the point for you that when you run thru the ghetto and see some shorty dressed extremely baggy, you have to check their chest for taped-down tiddys?

OK, for a minute there, I wondered if I was the only one.

Call ’em what you will, butches, studs, all that bomb sh*t, and call SGPL and its current author what you will, mean, ignant, whatever, but we’re gonna keep it funky here for a moment and go in: the hood and lesbians go hand in hand. Trust, it’s no coincidence that Snoop Pearson was a fan favorite on The Wire.

These are the girls who were reaching for the Tonka trucks instead of the Barbies at Toys R Us. Quite tomboyish up to middle school, they usually go full-bore and come out around tenth grade. Once that happens, it’s a party, y’all…

They dress baggier and saggier than dudes, they get crustier smoker lips than dudes, they style their hair in cornrows and “dreads” more often than dudes (as well as straight women), and they’re getting in all the hood activities ghetto dudes are known for. Even competing with straight males for the available pool of single ghetto women (see future post). Anything guys do big, the thuggish-ruggish lesbians are doin’ it bigger, count on it.

Many are harmless girls who just wanna have fun, but make no mistake either, some are quite hardened, nasty characters, though they may look like little boys who throw on their older brother’s clothes that they’re not big enough for yet. Real talk, you couldn’t possibly imagine these girls having periods (do they?).

Anyways, unlike any other place, for some reason, whether it’s always been this way or the rise to power was recent, the hood seems to be a lesbian factory. Your local ghetto yields a much higher proportion of open lesbians than anywhere else, and especially butches and studs. The WNBA needs to get its fans (and players) from somewhere, eh? It’s no surprise a lot of female rappers emerge from this farm system either.

Seriously, the ghetto is damn near Girls Town as the Yang to the Boys Town Yin. It’s an amusement park for lesbians where big rainbow lollipops are available for free.

Even funner (and incidentally, funnier) is this fact: as homophobic as ghetto males are, lesbians are often ironically enough one or more of the gang right along with ’em, with the street cred the guys provide. New meaning to the term ride-or-die chick. One in no danger of becoming anyone’s baby mama.

Hey, somebody was bound to say it.

#13: Acrylic Nails by LaCrystal

There are several devices the human species utilizes to express themselves and get their point across during a conversation. For most people, raising the pitch of one’s voice, and hand gestures would suffice, but ghetto people are a little different. Speaking loudly, snapping one’s neck/teeth/lips to punctuate sentences, and the sprinkling in of curses, obscenities, and slang for emphasis may come to mind, but ghetto people are far more complex than that. Ghetto people have come to depend on small, yet effective hand decorations that not only look great, but also exaggerate their hand motions to help their listener to better comprehend their message. Hence acrylic nails with intricate designs.

While acrylic nails have been around for ages and are worn by nearly everyone, only ghetto people have mastered how to use them to maximize their effectiveness in day to day life. Only a lime green, three inch long acrylic nail with rhinestones and a piercing could catch the attention of a man with a straying eye. That is why you can often spot a ghetto female pointing and clicking her nails while reprimanding her cheating man. When he sees those nails flicking rapidly and clicking, he knows trouble is astir. Nails can also be used to elicit fear into the hearts of young children. Kids tremble at the sight of a pointed finger adorned with intricate nails, because strength and size of the hand that is about to whip them is emphasized.

This breakthrough in communication has garnered so much success for ghetto people, that sometimes words are not even necessary. This form of communication is comparable to sign language. A beginner can tap her nails against a hard surface to show boredom. A ghetto observer will notice the nails and pay more attention resulting in both ghetto people no longer being bored.

At the intermediate level a ghetto person can alternate the use of nail clicking, neck/teeth/lip smacking and multiple sighs to express anger to onlookers. But a fluent ghetto person can convey every emotion, be it excitement or rage, with a simple point or hand flip. This is very impressive. If you find yourself unable to understand a fluent ghetto person, do not panic. Try complimenting her nails and saying, “Wow. I never thought of that!” No matter what she was talking about she will like you because you like her nails. However, if you suspect said person may be upset, do not try to diffuse the situation by commenting on how beautiful her nails look. She may become irate. Try instead to focus on where she is pointing and study her hand motions. When, and only when, she notices you understand and calms down, try saying “You have a beautiful way with words… Hey, nice nails!”. You will have won yourself a new friend.