Cease & Desist: The “Indian” In Yo’ Family

Now there is some history behind the mixing of Black people and Native Americans dating back to approximately 1830 and probably prior to that, but come on y’all…this sh*t is getting out of hand.  I said 1830.  Why in 2009 are people still running around talking about how they’re a quarter Native American.  Why are people attributing the qualities of their Nikki Minaj weave or their carefully crafted waves to having “Indian” in their family?  Because many of us are obsessed with being “more than Black”.  Think about it…we’ve gone from “colored” to “Negro” to “Black” and now we’re “African-American”.  Nobody just wants to be “Black” anymore.  Personally, I still use “Negro”.  And while we’re on the topic, I’m so tired of hearing “mocha latte” and “caramel-complected” in reference to skin tone…it’s just varying degrees of melanin, not an overpriced Starbucks beverage. 

I don’t remember any pictures of Sitting Bull carrying a brush or wearing a do-rag.

But back to this “Indian” foolishness.  The rule going forward if I might be so bold is this…

If you don’t know any full-blooded Native Americans personally, related to you or otherwise, stop claiming to have Native-American in yo’ family. 

 

If we’re just using lineage as a determining factor, you probably have a few rapists, murderers, perverts, pimps, hoes, and scallywags mixed in there too, so why not claim all of that?

 

And we are smooth-sailing right into 2010 at this point, so let’s clear this up…it’s “Native American”, not “Indian”.  Dances With Wolves, not Slumdog Millionaire.  And quite simply, if you can’t identify the specific tribe, know nothing of that tribe’s culture, and aren’t doing a damn thing for the Native American community, you should just keep these claims to yourself.  At the end of the day (and in the morning, around lunchtime, when you get off work and in the middle of the night), nobody really cares. 

Cease & Desist: Obama Paraphernalia

Seriously?

I completely understand and sympathize with all of the hoopla surrounding our first African-American president, believe me.  I was wildin’ out on U Street in DC with everyone else on Election Night too.  I also understand some people’s need to wear their political affiliations and ideas proudly on the clothes they wear.  No beef there.  The beef is that some of this stuff is getting a little bit worse for wear.  It’s been a year!  There’s a reason you only see those Essence Festival ‘98 T-shirts when it’s time to mow the lawn or wax the car…these items have a shelf life that is considerably shorter than anything you would buy in your local department store…or for that matter, anything you would buy indoors. 

Oh yes...yes they did.

Mitchell Rose is a former professional boxer known for knocking out Butterbean at Madison Square back in ‘95.  He’s also known for a brawl with Mike Tyson at a club called Sugarhill in Brooklyn which resulted in a $66M lawsuit (what is Mike’s issue with dudes named “Mitch”?).  In 2001, he tried to sue Jay-Z for stealing his rap style after handing Hova his demo tape.  Mitch also wrote an autobiography entitled Mike Tyson Tried To Kill My Daddy.  You get the picture.  Now apparently the brotha is back with the Obama sneaker.  These joints would be guaranteed to get you laughed out of your borough.  On his popular YouTube series, hip-hop personality Ed Lover ridiculed the shoe and even brought in Wu-Tang member Ghostface Killah to comment on these patent leather Air Debacles.  Mitch apparently felt some kind of way about it.  Actually, he saw fit to make not one but two videos.  Be prepared for absolute lunacy.

Cease & Desist: Tricks Are For Kids

Li'l homie Captain Kirk here just put his cape on and tricked off a whole roll of quarters so some girl could get her laundry done.

I recently read an article from my brethren over at the Sharecropper’s Almanac on the subject of trickin’:

If you knew better you’d do better: “Trickin Wasn’t Easy”

After giving it some thought, I decided to weigh in on the topic as well, sort of as an addendum to The Jump-Off Rules I wrote about earlier this week.  The game is currently in a twist. 

Captain Save-A-Ho Hall of Fame: I Love New York's Tailor-Made...bet you a cable bill he still hasn't hit it.

There was a time when we listened to E-40 & The Click’s “Captain Save-A-Ho” (see link to video below) and various songs by UGK and sopped up some of that good game that was being thrown our way.  Now we listen to sh*t like “Throw It In The Bag” (new tricknotic trash) by Fabolous and “Whatever You Like” (played out tricknotic trash) by T.I. like there’s nothing wrong with what is being said in these songs.  And as far as T.I. is concerned…we’ve seen his wife (no further comment).  And when they met, she was doing better at that time than he was, which means his trickin’ is either fictional or he’s trickin’ on extramarital jump-offs, which is a McNair-McNoNo.  For the record, it is not trickin’ if you have established the woman as wife or wifey.  It’s called taking care of home.  This is where I’m at now.  Trickin’ is when you spend money, take trips, and pay bills to woo a woman who you have not established a committed relationship with and haven’t even gotten the undies from yet.

There’s an old ghetto adage that says “it ain’t trickin’ if you got it”.  This is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard.  It’s not about money, but pride.  Why pay for what comes for free?  If you gotta pay to play, you just need to give up the game altogether.  Go to pornhub.com and stock up on lotion.  Stop messing the game up for all the real dudes out there who have to re-program the females you’ve spoiled into expecting Butterfield 9 and St. Bart’s on date one.  I’m not knockin’ the ladies hustle…if you can get it out of one of these Big Shrimpin’ dudes out here who aren’t adhering to the blueprint, then by all means, get your toes done.  But to the dudes…I have been the dude whose house you dropped her off at after wining & dining her.  I appreciated that in my backsliding years, so thank you.  You got dressed up, fed babygirl, ordered a bottle of Mo’ and maybe even took her shopping only to drop her off at my old studio apartment where I was waiting in a doo-rag, gym shorts, and folded-back houseshoes eating chili Fritos and drinking a watermelon Arizona, waiting for the jump-off you just tricked your paycheck off on only for a kiss on the cheek.  She might have even brought me a plate.  Good lookin’ out, homie.

 

“F*** that what they talkin’ about
I’ll save a ho, yeah Ha ha…
Yeah baby, what’s up? You wanna get your hair done?
Come on, let’s go down to Lee and Kim’s Nails

We can get your nails done, get your hair done…
What about your kids? How many kids you got? Two?
Ah, yeah that’s cool we can go feed and clothe them kids
We can go down and get the hook-up at Durant Square
Yeah baby, I do anything for ya
Want your phone cranked on, I can get it cranked on in my name
Matter of fact, I’ll get you a cellular phone and a pager
We can get that package deal down there at uh, Cellular One
Baby I’m here for you…I got you.”

Hector the Ho Protector (outro), “Captain Save A Ho” by E-40 & The Click

Fabolous simultaneously f's up the game and plays himself with one song.

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Cease & Desist: Men and Light Beer

Light beer in bulk exactly where it belongs.

I’ll admit to a little (or rather an excessive amount of) beer snobbery.  I laugh at Heinekens and would rather drink my own purified urine that put a canned beer to my lips in most cases.  Knowing this, I tried to avoid writing this post.  That was until 4th of July weekend, when someone tried to convince me that Miller Lite (a candy-a** 4.2% alcohol-by-volume) was the greatest beer of all time.  I didn’t even bother to argue…wasn’t worth the energy.  It would have ended badly.  Yet I still refrained from writing about light beer.  This morning, however, I was in line at Starbucks and overheard a seemingly normal man behind me in line order a non-fat half-caf soy latte or some such nonsense.  Not a beer, but still ridiculous.  And this sh*t has officially got to stop.

What they don't tell you is that this chick goes home with Guinness drinkers only.

Granted, I’m slim.  I don’t necessarily need to count calories, though it could be to my benefit.  But then, no man really should be counting them, at least noticably and in public.  I once heard a co-worker look up online and quote the calories and fat included in one serving of jelly beans, no lie.  The hair on my chest coiled up at hearing this nonsense.  Sh*t hurt my heart.  Now I’m not the average macho type…I don’t really pay attention to sports and I could give a sh*t about lifting weights, but sometimes, you just gotta let ‘em hang.  This obsession with fitness has just gone too gotdamn far.  So now we’re paying regular beer price for watered down beer that tastes like chilled hot dog water?  Really?  I’d rather give up beer altogether than order a weak substitute.  Word to B.A. Baracus.

It’s okay if you like light beer, honestly.  Order you and your crew that second round of Corona Lights, by all means (hope you broguht a designated driver).  I will just be forced to assume that you (a) know absolutely nothing about quality beer and/or (b) are adept at needlepoint and would like to be referred to as Nancy going forward.  Make sure you stick out your pinky while you sip it and cross your legs at the ankles.  I’ll be over here with this pint of real beer getting it in.  Deuces.       

Cease & Desist: Knock-offs

This one is simple.  If you cannot afford something, buy a cheaper option of something normal or forget about it altogether.  What you don’t do is cop a knock-off.  I see you trying to be incog-negro perusing the fake bags from the Africans in Georgetown.  The only one that is fooled is you 90% of the time.  Remember when those Fubu shirts with the big “FB” on them were popular?  I remember that there were also knock-offs of these shirts where the letters instead read “PB”, but since it was written in cursive, some folks assumed no one would notice the difference.  PB = Poor Bastard. 

That is not a Chanel logo...it is a Venn diagram of some sort. That or the "OO" stands for "out of options".

People notice knock-offs and almost make a career out of noticing.  They even brag about it.  There are those who can spot a fake Louis Vuitton from two blocks away.  How useful a skill this actually is in everyday life I’m not sure, but these people exist and are all about exposing you for trying to pump-fake with a knock-off Coach bag.  Understand that when a brand is not even all that prestigious, you really shouldn’t be going to the extent of buying a knock-off for it.  You may have spare change thrown into your coffee cup in fact.  I have been to the Coach site.  A typical monogram handbag is around $200.  This is about the same price of a brand new bag from Banana Republic with no label which in my opinion is more stylish than anything Coach has in, now or ever. 

It’s a recession, so people understand.  You don’t need a label on everything…so kindly stop reaching with your broke a**.

Cease & Desist: Skinny Jeans On Men

Don't worry...these gentlemen think your skinny jeans are fabulous.

Somebody’s about to hate me but I’m not sure I care.  Can’t stick and move in denim leggings anyway and I’d stab someone in the eye with a housekey before I lose a fight to a guy in some skinny jeans.  Basically the way I feel is this…this sh*t has obviously got to stop.  I understand that for a while all of the sagging and oversized jeans were getting out of hand, but the first guy to start sporting skinny jeans took it too damn far.  How far away are jeans with stirrups?  How about full-blown leggings?  Is Leroy from Fame going to become a fashion icon for straight men?  You can obviously see that the natural progression is a slippery slope to all-around gender-ambiguous fashion.  Next thing you know, spaghetti-strap tops will be the next step up from wifebeaters and you’ll swear you saw Ciara coming out of the men’s room at the club looking a little more diesel than usual.

Let’s keep it 1,000% greazy, though.  How are grown men fitting their junk into these sh*ts?  I do wear jeans that fit, but I prefer some swinging room.  I’ve still got kids to conceive in life.  Look at the picture below marked Exhibit A.  I barely can look at it (no man should ever pose for a picture like this ever), so I know it’s difficult (once you realize it’s a guy), but look at the way these jeans fit.  He must have had to roll these joints on like some L’Eggs.  Way too much work…and in the time it takes to get these pantyhose-rolled to knee-level, the person should have already reconsidered his fashion choice for that day.  And if the ankle on your jeans is so tight, you have to put the sock on beforehand, you’re definitely doing too much. 

You too can be a stud like this guy. He just came from baggin' broads all up and through American Apparel. Respect his pimp hand 'cuz it comes down heavy.

It wasn’t always as fashionable to wear jeans and other pants as relaxed as most men tend to wear thm in the present day, but remember it was also cool at one point for dudes that couldn’t sing or play an instrument to dress like Prince.  Everything has a season and that season doesn’t always necessarily need to come back.  Next time y’all decide to pick up a trend, look around at who’s already doing it and make your decision based on that.  Personally, I have no desire to put on jeans made for Mary-Kate Olsen and Russell Brand.  Guess I’m just not that type of dude. 

Cease & Desist Immediately.

 

Exhibit A: This shouldn't be a dude but it is. Everyone's uncomfortable.

Case In Point: This was acceptable in the NBA at one point in time. That point in time is long gone.

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Cease & Desist: The Public Do-Rag

Thinkin' of a master plan...

Cease & Desist is a segment that exposes things that need to be stopped immediately.  This has gone on long enough.

There was once a time when stocking caps and do-rags were used primarily while sleeping and more importantly, indoors.  There was also a time when sweatbands were worn while actually playing sports.   This dude (see above) apparently missed the memo.  And it’s Picture Day?  What are you saving your hairstyle for if not for Picture Day?  Better yet, what are you saving it for if not for being out in public in general?  So many questions.

I remember back in high school in Cali in the late 90s when waves were at the height of their popularity.  Mine were kickin’ for a good minute.  Basically, you would buy some Sportin’ Waves or Murray’s pomade, apply it, use a hot towel to melt it into the hair and then brush it about 137 times before tying on your do-rag for the night.  When you woke up, your waves were kickin’ but you had a crease in your forehead like somebody had been trying to give you a lobotomy with one of those plastic knives you get with McDonald’s Hotcakes.  But you didn’t wear it to school, dammit (though it wasn’t unusual for some to bring the brush with them to school and get their wave game up all during third period).  But in general, the idea was for people to actually be able to see the fruits of your labor.

Nevertheless, brothas still insist on trying to legitimize the do-rag as something to be worn in public.  Cease & desist immediately.