Something about ghetto people and raising bad *ss kids. Off the hook *ss kids…some with hook heads. Throwing things at the teachers, cussin’ around town, running around the f*ckin’ store treating it like it’s an Olympic track meet where they can win free Kool-Aid for a year. (Who else resists the urge to trip one?) Since when was a Kmart run a day at the park? If the kids need a place to play, take them to Chuck E. Cheese. Repeat, Chuck E. Cheese, not Cheesecake Factory. This author wants to enjoy the herb-crusted salmon in peace.
Is it that being bad as a child is believed to make you tough enough to handle the real world? Is the parent that burnt out to do any serious child rearing (meaning child development in community college was a waste of financial aid and she may as well have taken cosmetology)? Does mama need her Newport or Black & Mild–or blunt–to cope anymore? (Who knows where daddy is–probably ran away because he knew going in it was no use even tryin’.) Ghetto parents let their kids do just off the wall things. As much sugary bullsh*t as they’re allowed to eat, it’s no wonder these kids just go a million miles an hour tearing up toys, knocking down the glass furniture, making a big mess, and making a parent think of selling them on the black market like Shaniya Davis’s mother (never too soon).
And there is no “it takes a village to raise a child,” because ghetto parents ain’t having anyone say sh*t to their precious jewel of a child. No matter what they did. So of course you can forget about a ghetto child knowing the meaning of accountability, because they’ve been taught they’re bigger than society. There should be a law where you’re allowed to intervene under the right conditions and circumstances, allowed one exception a year of “going chimp” on someone when they’re just doing too much at your expense. OK, maybe not go chimp, because that leaves pretty ugly results, but you should be allowed to dish out a good sound beating like Mister once in a while. Or just flick one like Superman did those beer nuts in Superman III.
Nope, can’t go there, times have changed, so you’re just *ss out like we all are. The kids will be bully-footing their schoolmates and everyone else in the vicinity. Girls hella fast getting knocked up at 13, boys will always itch to wanna do some dirt, drinking and smoking way too young, something illegal or else all isn’t right with the world. This is how they get tried as adults. They may as well be the adults because we’ve turned the world over to them, spoil them, let ’em do whatever the f*ck they want. After all, at the month of this writing, parents ghetto or not ghetto are out breaking themselves to get their kids the latest expensive gadget or a jacket they’ll get too fat for in a few weeks or a toy they won’t give a sh*t about by MLK’s birthday, all for the sake of holiday spirit. Rewards their ADD-having behinds won’t appreciate because they weren’t taught to.
The babies are not the greatest because instead of teaching them to be, we’re teaching them they already are…and getting results like every douche on My Super Sweet Sixteen.
This could go a billion directions…so could ghetto kids if this author had a 32 oz. Louisville Slugger at his disposal.
Posted in family, home
Tagged ADD, babies, beer nuts, bully-foot, Cheesecake Factory, Chuck E. Cheese, go chimp, Kmart, knocked up, Louisville Slugger, My Super Sweet Sixteen, Newport, off the hook, Shaniya Davis, Superman
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?
“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!”
“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!”
“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!”
“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.
Posted in entertainment, home, leisure, money and economics, society and community, vices
Tagged babies, beauty, commercial, education, insurance, lawyer, loser, lowbrow, makeover, rerun, Ron Jeremy, tacky
You need Jesus.
According to the average ghetto person, we all need Jesus.
Ghetto people LOVE to evoke Jesus.
If a ghetto person graduates, eats food, gets some skins, their team wins a title, just bought a new car, finds out he’s not the father, and so on and so on and so on…they’re thanking Jesus as if they just grew a Rams jersey and quantum leaped into Kurt Warner’s body.
All the good in a ghetto person’s life wasn’t just how things happened to shake out, wasn’t even by their own design. Nope, Jesus had something to do with it…he pulled the trigger on it, goddammit, and there’s no point in arguing with one who’s convinced, because they’ll likely cut you! They ride for Jesus like Crips, Bloods, Folks, and Peoples ride for the set.
That’s what’s up. It’s like riding for the local gang because it’s the safe bet. It’s traditionnnnnn….TRADITION! The whole block goes to the same church. Mama and Grandma raise the babies with guns to their head in their house of the Lawd to make dead sure that to Jesus goes the glory (but all things bad are their own fault, go figure). The offspring play along lest they end up “on punishment” (the hood term for “grounded”), beat with Hot Wheels tracks, or kicked out of the house. And once they come into their own, they generally embrace Jesus, due in no small part to such immersion.
Never mind that a lot of Christian teachings aren’t even really adhered to (“What do you mean don’t eat pork?!? I ain’t Moooooze-lum!”). Never mind that most aren’t that religious in daily life and only go to the “good Christian” card when it’s convenient (e.g. the one who pays the bills is in the hospital, or the jury is deliberating the verdict). Jesus is their homeboy when it’s time for him to be…and he’s not here to defend himelf, so they get away with using his name in vain.
This was written on a Sunday, the day after many church goers just finished a good six days of sin, capped by a wild night at the bar, rent money spent on drinks, glittery tiddys* out, and the whole shot.
Disclaimer: Not written to take a position on religion…gotta disclaim this lest this author incur of the wrath of the likes of this guy:
*spelling on purpose
Posted in community, family, home, life, people, politics, society and community, vices
Tagged Christian, Christianity, church, Jesus, Lord, passion, pig, pork, religion, tradition