WORLD TRANSLATOR

Showing posts with label nbpp. Show all posts
Showing posts with label nbpp. Show all posts

Wednesday, August 31, 2011

BLACK PANTHER PROBLEM


I was talking to my Brother-in-Law, Huey Newton III, yesterday.  He is having problems with his wife (my sister).  He said to me “Rusty, man, I need yo’ help wit dis bitch rite he’re.”  Well, hold on a second…let’s rewind a bit and get some perspective.  You see, Musty, my older sister, and Huey met at a New Black Panther Party rally in Oakland, California in September of 1995.  Huey is let’s say…not very tolerant of the fact that I’m white.  I keep trying to tell him that the name Shrew is, from what my mom told me, a Ugandan name, straight out of Africa, and that my family carries a rare albino genetic code that makes us all just LOOK Caucasian; but he doesn’t want to hear it.  So be it.  He insists that whenever I talk to him I speak to him in Ebonics, not because that is the only language he understands, he actually has a PhD. in linguistics; he just thinks Ebonics was a ridiculous segregationist technique created by the white man and that since I am a ridiculous white man that I should be forced to speak it.  That’s fine with me; when in Rome right?  So, therefore, I just adjust my vernacular when I’m around him, just as you would switch to Français when in Paris.  Musty is, of course, fluent in Ebonics, and is much more versed in the enunciation and inflection of the Ebonic vernacular than I am.  I’m working on it though.  Now that you have some background on Huey, let’s get back to his dilemma:
[ME] “So wuss yo beef wit Musty, cuz?”
[HUEY] “Bruh, lemme tell u bout dis heffa! I go tuh fuk dis bitch lass night, right? She gon tell me “My pussy hurts from da lass time we had sex”, I say, WHU!? Fuck dat shit!
[ME] “For real dog? Damn, wuz she sore or some shit from yo black mamba?”
[HUEY]  ”Nah, Homey, I get ta talkin’ to dis bitch and she tell me, after like 30 minutes or some shit, that it ain’t da pussy that hurts, it’s that she ain’t in da mood.”
[ME] “WHU! Bitch betta recognize!”
[HUEY]  “Dog, I wuz mad as hell, and I said, whut chu NEED tah do, is wash dat stank as pussy! Dat shit smell  like a ferret’s dick, girl! Dats problee why yo punk ass daddy named yo ass Musty!”
[ME] “Oh shit son! Den whut?”
[HUEY]  “Bruh, dis bitch dun pulled a gat out on mah ass!  She said “You evah say some shit like dat again, and I’ll blow yo muh fuckin’ dick, right duh fuck off!”  Yo! I wuz like, Oh SHIT dis skeezy is for real!
[ME] “Dat shit’s legit homey!  So, whutchu gon du now?”
[HUEY]  “I’m gon apologize to mah boo.  She don’t need shit like dat comin’ from her man.  I bought some flowers and candy and shit, cause bitches love flowers and candy and shit, you know what I’m sayin’ Dog?”
[ME] “True dat.”
[HUEY]  “A’ight bruh, I appreciate you lettin’ me holla at chu.  Peace out.”
[ME] “A’ight homey.”
Now that wasn’t so bad was it?  Nothing but a simple little misunderstanding between a married couple.  It happens to us all.  The point is that we learn to understand and listen to what our partner is trying to say and respect THEIR point of view as well.   Peace out, Homey.

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

WEEKEND RACIST



Getting a Red Bull is one of my favorite past times, probably because I am completely addicted to the Taurine or whatever horrific heart failure causing agents are in it.  I can’t resist.  So, today I was in the local 7-11 (I say local like it’s Mr. Smith’s 2nd street deli and not a chain store that’s fucking everywhere) and, as usual, buying my 3 gallon can of Red Bull because the 16oz one won’t hasten my eventual meeting with Satan quick enough.  While waiting in line I spied this guy in front of me who had several well placed tattoos embossed on his flesh.  I happened to notice this peculiar tattoo on the side of his right calf.  He had a tree with a long extended branch.  From the branch was a Klu Klux Klan member who was hanging from a noose and quite dead.  I thought, to myself, “what an odd tattoo choice.”  I mean, I get the symbolism of it but it was one of those tilt your head and scrunch your upper lip in curious bewilderment moments.   What would possess someone to get a tattoo like that, particularly a white guy?  The movie Black Sheep with Chris Farley popped into my head and I imagined him with his 6 black friends at a college frat party, getting shit faced and double dog daring each other.  The eventual outcome being, “Fuck you Jamal! I’m not a pussy!…wanna make a bet that I won’t get that tattoo?”  My second thought was that maybe he was just sympathetic to the struggle for African American rights in America against the backlash of primarily white racist oppression.  Naaahh… that’s too easy of an answer.  I finally concluded that he MUST be a self loathing Klu Klux Klan member.   It’s like when Ariel Moore in Footloose rebels against her uptight conservative father and goes dancing.  He still hangs out with his Klux buddies during the week, but on the weekend he gets nuts and sheds the white robe and marches in NBPP rallies. On Sundays, he hosts a book seminar on the influence of "In the Name of Elijah Muhammad Louis Farrakhan and the Nation of Islam" by Mattias Gardell, just for fun.