Volume 27: SUMMERTIME IN PHILADELPHIA

“A Man who does not think for himself does not think at all.”

-Oscar Wilde

         The summer is approaching fast; with every new season comes the emergence and re-emergenceof Philadelphia’s ever growing displays of Niggerdom. My city will bid a due to many dumb trends and ideals, while the floodgates will open up once again for more. The city will be overrun with things that the educated Negro cannotunderstand and things that I want to see vanquished by summer’s end…

 

During a time of economic crisis, a FACE TATTOO ranks up there as one of the dumbest things a person can get, much less PAYfor. There was a time when the only thing you’d see on a person’s face would be the infamous teardrop tattoos from idiotic members of gangs, symbolizing someone they’ve killed-or someone close being killed. Now you’ll see various tattoos located on a man/woman’s face-things ranging from initials…to symbols…to animals. I’d pay to see the expression on the middle aged Corporate asshole’s face when a 20-something year oldwalks into their office, with some form of Niggerdom tattooed on their face…or neck. I have an idea; how about a tattoo across the forehead that reads: WHY BOTHER HIRING ME? –Because that is clearly what anyone (including myself) conducting an interviewwould think. Tattooing anything on the face should be punishable by limiting the applicant to the following menial jobs: A Fry Cook at the local fast food restaurant, Selling DVD’s and Muslim oils at the local barbershops, The guy that hand dries your car at the car wash, Or the random guy in the red pickup that scrapes dead animals off the highway all day in the blistering summer heat.

         What’s the appeal with black sistas and STUPID HAIR-COLORS?!? I think I speak for all of us educated brothas when I say that I am sick and tired of seeing beautiful sistas wearing hot pink hair. I think a law should be formed which would enable me or any otherbrotha to give a sista with a stupid hair color a swift kick in the backside. And to make things more fun, the amount of kicks to her ass allowed- should be based on how stupid the hair color is. 

Platinum Blonde on a dark-skinned sista should be punishable by one kick,platinum hair should be rewarded with two kicks. Green or Blue Hair should be given three kicks, and bright red or hot pink hair receives four kicksto the ass. Shout out to sistas with real hair and natural hair-it’s a rare sight here in Philly. We love y’all.

         Perhaps with the warmer weather, we will finally see the death of SKINNY JEANS forever. And is it just me? Or are people wearing the skinny jeans falling off of their asses? Sagging skinny jeans are not cool…never were cool…and never will be. They insinuatehomosexuality faster than being the token male cheerleader at your former high school. I never thought I’d see the day where you’d have black kids on skateboards, with fittedHollister tees and skinny jeans falling off their asses-but that day has come-and I can’t wait for it to end.

         We’ve touched on the rising popularity of facial tattoos sweeping the nation; morons of all ages transforming their faces into a means to publicly display their stupidity…but Philadelphia and every other big city still has a plethora of what I refer to as DUMB ASS TATTOOS. 

Now…for the record, there’s nothing wrong with a lady having a tattoo. After all, a tattoo can be sexy on a sista. But…ladies, please try and keep the tattoos feminine! A fire-breathing dragon biting the head off of a Unicorn in not sexy! A huge panther with fangs and blood coming from its mouth is not something that an educated brotha wants to see on your back. Names of ex-boyfriends, baby-fathers, or Rest In Peace shout-outs to the neighborhood drug dealer who was shot 47 times over a dice game are not our ideas of feminine tattoos. Why do people get R.I.P tattoos of friends? After all…in life, before it’s all said and done, we will bury many friends. Will people get lists of all friends that die?!? When a person gets their first-born’s name on their body…and they end up having 4 more…will they get all of their children’s names on them as well?!? Personally, I wouldn’t wanna see my name of my Mother’s tits. When women get a man’s name on their body…is that supposed to deter other men from approaching you?!? Don’t they know that Philadelphia is one of the rudest cities in the nation?!? Brothas here will know that’s ya girl and still try to get at her-you’ll be holdin’ hands with her in the club and he’ll be reaching for her free hand-without a shred of remorse.

         The Summer is coming and if you live in the inner city (like me), prepare yourself for two of the most annoying sounds of the summer: BAD-ASS KIDS playing in the street all day…and the fucking jingle of the ICE CREAM TRUCK. There is no worse combination of sounds to totally fuck up one’s day and make you wish that you lived in the suburbs. Kids in Philadelphia hit the streets at 9:00 am and seem to never go inside at night. The musical jingle of the Ice Cream trucks, which has never changed in my 29 years of existence, drives anyone insane after too many rounds. Add a multitude of big head kids, playing football in the street (when the playground is a block away) and hitting your car with the ball 3 times an hour, and darting from between parked cars in the street without looking. Finally, we have the asshole double-parked next to 2-3 perfectly good parking spaces on the one-way street. You try not to blow your horn at this fool or yell at him, because residents of this city know that Philadelphia is the Mecca of random and senseless violence! But that inner hood-negro in us all wants to count backwards from 3 and run the fool down in a rage-filled frenzy! If you’ve witnessed these things… you have a concept of a Philadelphia summer! I hate it and I want it to stop-before it even starts!

         I pray that I won’t have to see the re-emergence of the LONG WHITE TEES. This trend is a favorite among the thugs and goons of the city-as well as the imposters. The truly pathetic thing about it is that the super long white tees remind me of the attire of 13 and 14 year old white girls, while having a slumber party! When I see a pack of losers…all wearing white tees, blue jeans, and usually tan timberland boots or Air Force Ones…I just wanna stare and wait for them to pillow fight or tell scary stories and make hot cocoa! The irony is that you have the hardest cats wearing the softest attire. And what’s up with brothas wearin’ Timberland construction boots all year round…meanwhile doing nothing constructive in them? But I guess that’s a random thought for the future, huh? (laughing) A question for the sistas: 90% of brothers in Philly look alike…everyone knows this. The typical guy here can be seen on a daily basis in a 4XL White tee, a pair of blue jeans (usually Rocawear), and a pair of timberland boots; this ensemble with be accessorized with an oversized fitted hat (usually a Phillies one) and various moronic tattoos of overused sayings like Only God Can Judge Me or The Good Die Young or how can we forget the played out M.O.B tattoos, which stands for Money Over Bitches. (rolling my eyes) My friends from outta state always talk about how all Philly guys have “Freeway Beards”, which are actually beards worn by Sunni Muslims-which Philly has plenty of. My question to the ladies is this: Since an overwhelming majority of guys from Philly look alike and follow the same lame ass trends and ideals…how the fuck do you decide who’s attractive and who’s not?!? What the hell are women thinking when they see these guys? Maybe they’re talking to they’re friend like, “Guuuuurl...look at HIM! His T-shirt is so white and ironed!

(shaking my head)

         Yep…The summer’s coming…and the thoughts keep coming as well….

 

…These Are The Random Thoughts of Ronald Gray…

Volume 26: The METROSEXUAL In America

“Two things a man should never be angry at; what he can help and what he cannot.   -Unknown

 

         They say punctuality and politeness are the inseparable companions of gentleman. Today’s Random Thought is about the Metrosexual Male in America. The “metrosexual” is defined as the urban male with the strong aesthetic sense, who spends a great deal of time and money on his appearance and lifestyle. I remember when men possessing those same attributes were classified by a different moniker…

Society called them pretty-boys. Today, with the emergence of gossip radio, rampant rumors, and public alternate lifestyles, America calls the modern day pretty boys… metrosexuals!

st hearing that word a few years back to describe a straight man that I knew, who worked in the fashion industry. At that time, I was only familiar with the terms: gay, straight, bi-sexual, or a pretty boy. I thought to myself, What the hell is a metrosexual?!?

         I was told that a metrosexual was a straight man, but also someone who society could mistake for a homosexual, because of his detail to appearance. Are there that many brothers leading undercover homosexual lives in America, that people feel it necessary to categorize well-dressed, cultured individuals as metrosexuals? And how can people tell the metrosexuals from the outright gay men?

        Today it seems as though no one clean-cut or well dressed is immune from being viewed as a possible homosexual. Rappers, R&B singers, models, actors…everyone seems to be under the microscope of black woman-and sometimes black men-for possibly being on the down low. I call it the Wendy Williams Syndrome. It’s when sistas suspect men of being gay, without facts or reason. I believe this occurs because there are many people living secret lives, however alsoexacerbated by women’s paranoia and arrogance. R&B Singer/Songwriter Ne-Yo once was quoted in an interview saying, “You know you’ve made it in this industry, when the gay rumors start.” He was implying to the constant rumors of him potentially being gay-often spread by the very same female fans that purchase his albums and attend his live shows. Other celebs who’ve been targeted from people who suffer from Wendy Williams Syndrome were Usher, Method Man, Tyson Beckford, David Beckham, Kanye West, Andre 3000, Sean “Puffy” Combs, and the list goes on…

   I’ve always been someone who was involved in the arts. I was able to create a sketch of a person’s likeness before most kids my age were learning basic math. Being raised in the church by strict Jamaican parents, I was always neat in my appearance and manner able. I was an accomplished artist by high school and had a flair for fashion as evidenced in numerous creations I had compiled over 4 years of sketching while goofing off in class. It seemed like destiny when I decided to go to College to become a fashion designer. Later I transitioned into a fashion photographer, and had the privilege of working hard while gazing upon the beautiful results of my artistic concepts. Photography was originally never a plan of mine; I wanted to be a fashion designer-and actually had the talent to be widely successful at it-however later realized that I loved the industry, but was also blinded by the promise of wealth. With maturity and patience, I realized that my calling is to capture the world as I see it…one frame at a time-although I’ve been blessed to be able to do other things which may prove to be one day lucrative as well…such as my knack for writing!

         I recall having lunch with a good friend of mine-a lovely lady of Delta Sigma Theta. We were doing the usual-catching up on old times and what’s new in each other’s lives. We’d share dating horror stories, complain about our present employers, and dissect the various things about the opposite sex that get on our nerves. I remember her telling me about her and a group of deltas having a conversation/man-bashing session about us Ques-The Brothers Of Omega Psi Phi Fraternity. They did the typical female things; discussing which Ques were desirable, which ones weren’t, who’s fucking who, and who’s company they enjoyed. She informed me that my name had come up in one of their conversations and strangely mine was one of the very few that came up with absolutely no dirt on it. Truthfully speaking, they couldn’t think offhand of any deltas to link my name with; No relationships with any, no sexual activity. This prompted one of them to ask, “Does Ron like Deltas?” The group laughed. Figuring she was on a comedic roll, she then asked, “Does Ron even like women?” Hearing that statement suddenly changed the mood and direction of the conversation taking place between me and my good friend. I looked her right in the eye, suddenly very serious and agitated. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I asked, having a gut feeling that I wouldn’t like the answer. She squirmed uncomfortably in her seat at my newfound disposition.

“Don’t pay it any attention,” she said. “Sorors just saythings sometimes. She didn’t mean it. They were just saying that because you haven’t been sleeping with a bunch of people like the other bruhs. They see someone who’s well dressed and not trying to fuck everybody and people talk.”

 

Wow. So in a world overpopulated with rude, oversexed and undereducated morons-with the I.Q of Pepperoni Pizza- a gentleman with morals, culture, education and overall good disposition is viewed as a potential homosexual? And why? Because he’s not fucking a bunch of Deltas?!? Woooow. Would that make a man gay? Or could it be the fact that at that time I was involved in a three-year relationship with someone; a lovely lady of Alpha Kappa Alpha, who also happened to be Miss Cheyney University, and went on to be the valedictorian of our graduating class of 2004. Could it be that I realized early on as a 22- year-old Neo that greeks tend to all fuck the same people and opted not to compromise my reputation for some random female frat-mattress with a disease infested pussy? Or could it be that many of the deltas. Iknow wind up being the willing love slaves of my frat brothers and after hearing the details of their sexual prowess, and sometimes witnessing it-courtesy of cell phones and digital camcorders-wisely choosenot to get involved?

     I wanted to know who had said those things about me; my gut was telling me that my friend would protect the identity of her sorority sister. I was right. She told me “she couldn’t remember.” She assured me that it “wasn’t that deep” and tried to change the subject and lighten the mood, but my pride was hurt and more importantly I was confused; Confused about what type of vibe I had given off that could make someone-even an idiot-assume that I could be remotely gay. In West Indian culture, it’s of the worst things you can call a man.

 I started to think about my frat, and the various antics that many do in party scenarios; ean, you have Ques running around…sometimes completely naked! And I’m the one who’s name comes up in question?!? You have Ques who are branded on the ass, Ques who wear thongs, Ques-who’s asses are exposed on a frequent basis at parties…in front of male and female greeks-and My name comes up among the minds of deltas in regards to who could possibly be Gay?!? And Why? “Because he’s clean-cut, well mannered and doesn’t run through a bunch of women.I must applaud those females…because they’re clearly the dumbest bitches I’ve ever known. Suddenly it becomes inevitably clear why there are so many single women in America.

         I was so angered by this newfound discovery from this sorority of women; Many whom I consider close friends of mine, that I decided to see if there were others who had heard similar statements like that one made about me. There were others who had heard similar statements-the reasons ranged from me being quiet, to me not wildin’ out like most of my frat brothers, to simply me studying fashion design in college. Wow. Words cannot express the magnitude of Niggerdom going on in this country when a black man can’t pursue a career in the arts, without his peers assuming he’s secretly creeping off somewhere to play ass jockey with a man! LOL I mean- you’d think I was showing up at Greek functions dressed like Prince or some shit. It’s amazing. I began to think of the arrogance and immaturity of some black women. It’s like when that radiant sista is walking somewhere and that random man uses every lame pick up line in the book and she just ignores the fuck out of him; he can deal with the momentary sting of rejection like a man and simply walk away. But in a vain display of machismic bravado and immaturity, he hollers “Well fuck you then, Bitch! You ain’t shit anyway!”

         You see, many of us-even at the advanced ages of our mid-late 20’s- still deal with rejection or the perception of rejection in the most immature ways. People attempt to discredit you and tarnish your image. Perhaps it helps them to feel better, Perhaps they simply want you to feel their pain, Perhaps their lives…much like a black hole in space…is a void in which common sense cannot enter or escape. In any case, I always say when you strengthen your self-esteem, there’s no more room for jealousy.  The opening quote for this random thought was “Two things a man should never be angry at; what he can help and what he cannot” and I couldn’t think of a more meaningful one for this particular entry. There’s no way that I could ever change my image to appease a bunch of morons. There’s no way that I could ever conform to what the majority of idiots do to gain attention. All I can do is be me… well dressed, well mannered, with my own unique style and charisma. Anyone who opposes those qualities should simply grow up…And while they’re at it…they can kiss my ass LMAO

 

…These Are The Random Thoughts Of Ronald Gray…