managingyourblackness

This WordPress.com site is funny guide to handle being black in the 21st Century.

You Could Be President?

By Deon Cole & Darryl Littleton

MYB RULE # 795 – Know Your Lane (s)

The 2012 presidential election is over and Barack Obama supporters are jubilant.    Yay!  Yay!  We won!  We won!  Hey, if Barack can be president so can I.  Slow your roll.   Let’s not get too carried away.  You might not be cut from the same cloth as Barack Obama.  As a matter of fact you might be cut from a rag.

Part of managing your blackness involves knowing the black you’re managing.    You’ve been you all your life so you should know you better than anybody.  You should know what you can and cannot do and do you honestly think YOU could be president?  Really?

Being president is more than meets the eye.   See, it’s not one of those jobs where you call in sick.  Reporters will tell us you’re lying.  You can’t hide out in the break room.   Some Republican will leak it to reporters who will tell us you’re slacking.    You can’t send anybody else in to do your job.  Everybody knows what you look like.  In all cases it’s got to be you.  You’re the one who has to show up . . .  and that’s where a lot of you would have a problem.   Yes, showing up is part of the job.

So before you start kissing babies of legal age ask yourself a few basic questions.    Do you get along well with others?   Presidents have to act like they do.  Keeping it real is not part of the job description.    Are your tats where everybody can see them?   It’s frowned upon if your president looks like Lil Wayne.    Do you drink malt liquor?   Just joking.    Do you like to travel?  Some black people never want to leave the house.   Do you like to eat exotic foods or do you say “yeowwwww” when something that looks nasty is on the plate?  The whole “yeowwwwww” thing is not a good look for a president.    Can you handle people talking shit about you?   Some of us can only take so much and then we snap.  Are you one of those kinds of people?  You know if you are.  Last question – how do you deal with people all up in your business?  Yeah, thought so.   You’re not ready to be president.  The minute somebody said something about your woman you’d be roaming the streets with a baseball bat looking for them.

The job of president is rough.  So let’s get that goal out of your head.   You don’t have what it takes, but let’s not give up.   You could be a Senator.    It’s a good deal without folks all up in your face.   How many of you even know what your Senator looks like?  See what we mean?    Senator is more of a job for you.  People can tell you’re balling, but they’re not sure how.  You’ll have drivers, bodyguards and plenty of people down to hook you up.   As a Senator you have the freedom to bullshit.   So forget about raising your kids to be doctors, lawyers or president.   Senator.   It’s the perfect job for managing to get your blackness on.

 

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Thuggery

By Deon Cole & Darryl Littleton

MYB RULE # 1,729 – DON’T EXPOSE YOUR ROD IN HOLLYWOOD

We like swagger as much as the next person, but it must be managed.  There’s an alarming trend lately in the black entertainment community – gangsta comics.  We know.  We know.  It sounds funny, but this is a serious matter.   Recently a comedian pulled out a gun on another comedian.    It was done in a parking lot.   Nobody used Instagram.     No shots were posted on Facebook.     There was no media.    However, TMZ leaped all over it and this black-on-black tension was news.    Thuggery Amongst the Jesters!    Hardy har har.

At first we laughed.  Then it struck us that these were black comedians and black comedians in need of a management reminder.  First off – who got TMZ involved?  We shouldn’t even know about this one.     Somebody’s sloppy.  No two ways about it.   What happened to the code of the streets?  We came to find out that these antics were perpetrated on the streets of Hollywood.  You’re in media central brandishing firearms.    Then it turns out the gun wasn’t even loaded.  So what gives?  Are these comics or publicity seeking clowns?   Was it one of those guns where you pull the trigger and a little flag with the word BANG is on it?   Either somebody’s starving for attention or sniffing too much Elmers and living in a make-believe city.

We come from a black culture where you get a gun pulled on you and you have one of your own – it’s on.  We don’t know too many brothers who roll without bullets.  As a matter of fact we don’t know too many of anybody that does that.  That’s how you manage to get killed.

However, this is no laughing matter.  Comics have decided to get tough lately.

A famous television comedian was recently seen bragging about how tough he is when people try to scare him, only to be practically frightened out of his cushy studio chair as a staffer came from behind him mid-boast and almost made him throw up breakfast, brunch and craft services.   He had to stand up to make sure he hadn’t peed on his freshly tailored, boast-proof suit.  Many comics have gone the tough route only to be exposed by real life circumstances.

Used to be a time a comic knew their place – be funny and sad when you’re not in public.  But for some reason several of the chuckles crew have decided to emulate their more hip hop brethren.   Challenges have been laid down.  Beefs have been played out in the court of public opinion and apparently unloaded guns have been placed in shoulder holsters.

We hear that when first approached by a TMZ staffer with cameraman rolling, the comic known as the gun pointer was incredulous that street business had been revealed to the mainstream press.  He accused the gun pointee of being a snitch.  Then he went on to say he’d answer any question they had.  So does that make you a counter-snitch?

Don’t get us wrong, comedians have been feuding for ages, but it’s usually been over jokes.   One comic would call the other out and they’d either made empty threats or somebody would get popped in the mouth.  Where’d guns come from?  You’ve got to be kidding?   We’re sure there’s plenty of comics that wanted to bust a cap in Milton Berle for stealing jokes, but they didn’t do it.     There’s famous joke stealers walking around today right now who should be taking a dirt nap in that case.  You just can’t go around whipping out gats on merry makers.    Where would Jay Leno be if Conan had been seriously beefin’?

So in the name of keeping black comedians  from being laughing stocks we advocate managing your blackness and keeping street business in the real streets – the hood.  Gangsta!  Gangsta!  Whatever; get it outta your system before the AARP notices show up, but manage it.   And we want to say so there’s no misunderstanding – we love gangstas because they fight for land they don’t even own.   Now that’s American.

 

Tagg, You’re Not It

By Deon Cole & Darryl Littleton

This time out we find we must manage our blackness when it comes to Tagg as in Romney.  Yes, the aerial dog transporting clan has done it again in the moniker department.  They never seem to be at a loss for goofy titles.  How’d they come up with Tagg?  Was that a buzz word from one of the madcap, wacky intercourse games Mitt and his lady Ann played throughout the North Wing of their off-shore mansion?  We’re sure “Tagg” is his middle and/or nickname, just as “Mitt” is for his pappy.  Anyway, Tagg is out of line and we’ve simply got to address it.

Recently this offspring of Plastic man said that during the second Presidential Debate he wanted to leap onto the stage and “take a swing” at President Obama.   Notice he said nothing about connecting.  He made it clear he wanted to swing.  This leads us to believe two things about Tagg.   #1 – he can’t fight.  Nobody we remember in life ever used such a “Dennis-the-Menace” phrase to describe impending fisticuffs.     # 2 – Tagg is unhinged and he belong nowhere near government and its goings on.

You may not grasp how we’re handling our blackness yet, but we’ll get to that.  In the meanwhile, back to Tagg, whose stupidity is already in progress.   Let’s examine Tagg’s first dilemma; his lack of pugilistic prowess.  His own brother, Josh (a semi-normal Euromerican name) said he’s been hit by Tagg plenty of times and the president had nothing to worry about.   Ha-ha Heehee, Josh.  We’re not worried that Barack alone couldn’t take your brother down had he acted upon his sheltered world impulse.    He’s probably a good polo player or a well-respected member of the rowing team, but he looks like he has no heart for a serious knuckling up.    Tagg strikes us as the kind of guy who would rush in yelling and try to tussle.  So harm coming to Barack Obama is not our concern.

We’re upset about the fact the media would’ve finally seen our president snap.    The beating he’d have administered would’ve been horrendous and replayed on YouTube more than a bus driver delivering a telegraphed upper-cut.    Next to catching him puffing on a Newport, there’d have been no greater scoop.

The problem with Obama snapping would’ve carried long range consequences.   First off he’d have probably been shaking and mumbling to himself as he stood over Tagg’s limp, prone body.   Secret Service (who would’ve intervened late knowing Barack’s been training for a chance to show his toughness on some right-wing punk) would’ve had to hold him back and they’d have needed to call in Biden to talk him down.     Michelle and the girls would’ve been used to remind him of who he is.   It would’ve been a PR nightmare and every poot butt country that wanted to rattle our Commander in Chief would have their example of how to do it thanks to Tagg.

Our next observation is Tagg’s lack of tact.  You can think whatever you want.  Black people do it all the time.  However, to utter to an interviewer on radio that you, a future losing candidate’s son wanted to “take a swing” at a man who holds the job your daddy wants shows an ignorance beyond what we’re accustomed to hearing.  Perhaps Tagg needs to manage his whiteness as well as his anger.  Now to his credit he admits he wanted to do it, but the reality of the Secret Service being all around curtailed his actions or at least gave him a moment of pause.  So Tagg can think.   He knew he didn’t want to be shot or at very minimum take that ass whooping Barack would’ve issued him.

The problem we have is Tagg is not alone.  Yes, he revealed he’s a time bomb and sick-minded savage who bears watching, but more importantly he reminded us of our recent past.  Last time a politician’s son got upset about somebody said about their daddy we got into a war.   GW never did get over Saddam Hussein trying to kill his pops.  Never mind the fact his dad was in the Middle East when the murder attempt took place and they were sworn enemies and we’d have probably tried to off him had he come over here like he owned the place. . . . . never mind all of that.  Angry sons aren’t good for increasing the population, that’s all.

That being said we’re going to tell you how to manage your blackness on this one.  I’m sure many of you would like to entrap Tagg.  Get him some bogus Super Bowl tickets or get a Prince Harry like party going and reel him in.  Next thing Tagg knows a bunch of the brothers are filing out of the closet to get Medieval on him.  We ourselves thought about hiring an Ann coulter impersonator to invite him out to Rush Limbaugh’s to pop pills and watch Glenn Beck and Sean Hannity grapple in the mud.   We were sure that would appeal to a lad like Tagg, but thought better of it.    We were even going to tell him those four country club snooty guys from “Trading Places” were having a reunion and would love to have him sing with them to Muffy, Constance, Susan and the other chick.   It crossed our minds, but we’re managing our blackness.   We know harming tag will only cause us a year or two of satisfaction and for some reason that’s not enough.

So don’t do anything to Tagg.  Even if years from now you see him in the hood copping dope, leave that poor junkie alone.     Well, okay after November 6th you’re on your own, but if anything happens to him now they’ll blame it on Barack.  They’ll say it’s his entire fault for not letting Mitt walk all over him.    How dare the president point out the facts?  He drove our little Tagg to the brink of violence.  Yeah, right- let’s just make it 5 more days and then prepare for re-elected president Obama, the Manager-of-Blackness-and-Chief to finally show the real Barack.  We expect him to enter his inauguration riding in on an elephant flanked by dancers from “Coming to America” and Michelle in a dress that accentuates her curvy dimensions.     See, Tagg – that’s the kind of things we imagine.     Manage to wrap your pea brain around that.

The Preacher’s New Car

By Deon Cole & Darryl Littleton

An important thing for black people to do is manage their blackness.    As noted scholar, W E B Dubois wrote in 1903, where he explores the conflict of being black and being an American.  “One ever feels his two-ness, – an American, a Negro: two souls, two thoughts, two strivings, two warring ideals in one dark body. . . ” meaning black people are a bit schizo.  We can only be one person at a time so you have to manage that Sybil mess.  You have one you for other black folks; the other you for everybody else.    Most black people know this like Mitt Romney knows the function of an Etch-A-Sketch.  So we’re just her as a reminder for those of you who forget.  You’ll get helpful tips, guidelines and examples on how to manage your blackness under any circumstance.   

Today we want to talk about a touchy subject – religion.   Yesterday I didn’t go to church.  I’ve been going since I was a kid so I figure I’ve put in my time.  Besides, God knows me.  He’s with me all the time.  That’s what they teach you in church.  He talks with me and he talks with me and he tells me I am his own.   In that case why do God and I have to walk to another building to talk when we’re perfectly comfortable right here? 

Now I know my Madear would’ve considered what I just wrote blasphemy and had sent me out to get a thick switch from a switch bearing tree if she were still alive.   I dreaded those trips to the switch tree since she was a sizable woman who made Jessica Simpson look petite and her backswing was reminiscent of a Serena Williams complete with grunt and Crip walk.   She’d have said (while whooping me) “ The Lord wants you in his house, not yours.”  Well, the way I see it every house is the Lord’s house and he’s letting me live in this one.     

You might wonder what all this has to do with managing one’s blackness.  Plenty.    From the time missionaries figured out enough of the native’s language to push religion black families have gone to church.    You went every Sunday unless you were dying and even then you’d ask if somebody could pick you up and take you.  Women wore big hats and men had handkerchiefs in their jacket pockets.    Everybody smelled flowery.  It was a black thing.   The preacher sweated and moaned while the deacons gave folks the evil eye for dozing off.  The choir sang way more than they need to, but time had to be filled.    How else were you going to keep folks around for two hours and pass the plate several times?   One time I went to church and they asked me about my tax returns.    You know who you are. 

That’s another black thing about church.   They have building funds, no buildings ever get built and nobody says anything.    At least no buildings connected to the church get built.  I can’t say what new add-on the preacher might have at his mini-estate.    This leads us to the point of this blog.    Why do people of God  drive expensive cars named after people who sound like sinners?  Mercedes, Bentley, Ferrari – those don’t sound like holy names.    Ferrari sounds like she’ll give you something that can put some holies in you.  

 

Preachers say we should all be more like Jesus.  We agree and suggest they practice what they preach starting with the car they drive.     The Pope has a Pope mobile.    Every pope gets one.  We’re advocating a standard issue vehicle for all holy people – the Jesus Solariums 2012AD.  It runs on solar power just like Jesus did.  If the sun’s not out walk, you have to walk to church preacher man.   It would be a nice reliable car that may not always get you there on time, but it’s never late.   No air conditioning, because Jesus didn’t have any.  No radio either, preacher.  They didn’t have stations back then.    You can sing or hum if you choose.     The horn should sound like a burro and there will be no power steering.  Jesus used his own power to maneuver those asses.  Well, maneuver your ass and stop asking for money you don’t need. 

So I managed my blackness yesterday by not succumbing to the peer pressure and going to church where I would’ve surely blurted out such a notion.  I went against decades of family tradition and ingrained thinking to stay at home with my God, keep my mouth shut and watch the game.   I got the feeling God favors the Steelers.  How else can you account for that win?   Anyway, that’s what I did.    

Now we’re not suggesting this for you.  Most of you work regular jobs.  We’re in entertainment.  We’re expected to be irreverent.  Your best bet in managing your blackness is to go along with whatever policy is set forth in your office.   Remember, you’re eating for two and it’s hard to keep both of those identities fed if you’re unemployed.   Your co-workers assume you go to church; and not some new wave non-denominational situation.  They figure you’re Baptist.  Aren’t all black people?    You’ve probably got a Bible in your glove compartment or purse.  You read scripture first thing in the morning and before you go to bed at night, right?  I bet you might not be able to spell atheist, but you sure know how to rebuke them.  Speak in tongues?!  You were doing that before you learned to crawl.   

So if the boss goes  to church twice a week – you go three times.  You let those people at work know that going to church is your hobby.  Act like you have no idea what’s going on in the NFL.  You were too busy listening to the word from Pastor You-Know-Who-I’m-Talking-About.  Manage your blackness by managing to keep your job.

This is Deon & Darryl – talk at you next time.

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