The People I Hate The Most…by Panama Jackson

Dear the following groups of people,

0A276E0C-1F70-4532-90174222A94B06D7I hate you. And don’t misunderestimate my use of the word hate. I don’t mean it in a “just really get annoyed” type of way. Nope, I have real, visceral feelings towards you. I’d like to pull off your toenails and feed them to llamas while I make you recite every line Morgan Freeman has ever uttered in a movie in Samuel Jackson’s voice. I want to blow dandelion pollen into your face and make you drink skim milk from a saucer. Not even a ceramic one either, like a paper saucer.

Who are you people who are part of the following groups of people for which I addressed this letter by myself, Panama Jackson? You people are the following groups of people:

 People who read while walking

Listen up motherf*cker. I understand that the book you’re reading is so stupendous that you can’t put it down. It’s probably some bullsh*t Malcolm Gladwell wrote. I get it. Read like the wind, grasshopper. But look where the f*ck you are going. Seriously. If you’re a woman you already can’t walk in a straight line when you’re paying attention (yeah, I said it. Shots fired.) But now you’re engrossed in some sh*t that has taken your full attention, meanwhile I’m just trying to get to my final destination without bumping into random motherf*ckers I see in the street, but noooooooooooooooo…here you go, zig zagging like you learned something about how not to get shot from watching Ricky get shot in Boyz N The Hood. And that’s great, don’t get shot and sh*t. In fact, again, read like the wind, grasshopper. Just don’t make ME be the one who has to play minefield with your monkey ass because you’re all over the damn sidewalk. THEN have the nerve to look at me like I got in your way. Eat burnt toast. Sucka nword you can stunt all you wanna stunt, I know you won’t buss a gun yeah punk I’m talkin’ to you!

People who refuse to budge and make room on sidewalks

I won’t say exactly who, but if you want to see what rhymes with sprite friveledge in all its glory, just walk on any sidewalk towards a group of sprite people and you will find yourself engulfed in a game of chicken. One of you is going to have to move so that nobody has to walk in the grass, since you know, sidewalk and sh*t. But I’ll bet you all the 40 acres and mules that the sprite people will NOT move one bit and will EXPECT you to step into the grass so as to not disrupt their gait. Granted, this also works in the kingdom of ninjadom too if the roles are reversed, but since there’s no such thing as Black privilege I’m not even sure what to call it. Payback? The Washington Generals winning a game? Me no know. But if there is a group of Black men (in particular) walking and a white man approaching, that white man is getting THE f*ck out of the way. What I need to see is a group of white males and a group of Black males approaching one another on a small sidewalk. I’m guessing that WESSSYDE Story breaks out. F*ck everybody who won’t move to invoke either sprite frivelege or payback.

And speaking of motherf*ckers who won’t move…

Bicyclists who think that having the right of way means everybody should pay attention but them

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, especially in DC, I hate motherf*ckers on bicycles. Mostly because there is this entitlement that just because you’re saving the environment AND exercising AT THE SAME DAMN TIME you are better than me. You’re only not dying at the hands of my fiberglass molding because the law says its illegal. If you don’t pay attention, that’s not my fault. If I’m making a right turn and YOU come flying past me on my right hand side and almost get kilted, IT IS YOUR F*CKING FAULT, NOT MINE. But you wanna get in your feelings because I’m supposed to pay attention to where you are at all times? Get a bell, b*tch. My car is rock and your bike is scissors. I will crush you. The big guy doesn’t have to know where the little guy is ESPECIALLY when he doesn’t even know the little guy exists. But you are on the road. You know there are cars. Just pay attention dilweed. Because if you talk sh*t from your bike its not like a more unbalanced mofo WON’T try to run you down.

People crossing the street while I have the green light bc pedestrians always have the right of way

Speaking of not respecting machinery. If your monkey ass sees that I have a green light AND AM ON THE WAY THROUGH THE LIGHT, do NOT attempt to try to beat me just because you’ve got nothing better to do with your time than a potential assisted suicide. For one, that’s just f*ckign rude. Ask a n*gga, first. For b, The fastest runners in the world clock in around 23/24 MPH, with Usain Bolt getting upwards of 27 MPH. You are no Usain Bolt. But do you know who is? My car. My car whips Usain Bolt’s ass. Look, you have the right of way. I get it. I really do. But do you know why they put the flashing white man and red man on street corners? For order. It reduces chaos. So when I have a green light, a color designated to me by the somebody as my indication to move forward, and I’m moving forward as indicated and allowed, legally, when you attempt to thwart this freedom, I feel all angsty and sh*t. I do not like feeling angsty. F*cking stop it.

You groups of people are the ones I hate the most. I would love it if you would all kick rocks with open toed sandals.






Panama Jackson

Those are the people/groups of people I hate the most? What you got?


The Theory About Lists, Growth, and Love Over Time

Theory-RealityI’ve got a theory I want to drop off on you cool cats. It’s a theory draped in the narrative of…of…hmm…gender-specific mating-centric relationshipism. While they say that proper planning prevents poor performance, Little Richard taught us that a wop bob a loo bop a wop bam boom. Same thing really.

Back to this theory about this narrative. What I’m about to posit will largely engender stereotypes and generalizations. While some of you may not appreciate or enjoy generalizations, I’m going to need you to clap along like you’re in a room without a roof. Be happy, people. Be happy.

I’m of the belief that most women do at some point craft some sort of list of desirable attributes in a mate. You know, the whole “man in her head” syndrome. The guy she dreams will ride in on his white (or racially ambiguous) horse…do animals have races? Maybe not races, I mean we know that animals have races (Man vs. Beast did happen after all) but I mean like races, you know animal social constructs based upon superficial characteristics and such. Like, you know how you should behold the pale horse? Is there a black horse we should behold to?

Consider my mind blown.

Back to this white (ugh, racist) horse that I think women are waiting for Prince Charming or Charmandejuan to ride on with his job, home, perfect teeth, nice body, ability to read, without children, with a savings account with actual savings, who is compassionate, empathetic, affectionate, hung like a horse (again, non-race specific), who not only washes dishes but WANTS to wash the dishes, rubs feet, goes to church, listens to only non-misogynistic hip-hop and/or gospel, 6’5″, etc. Basically, a list of the best qualities one can have and all that jazz. This is what I presume most women have. It might not look like this, and his name may not be Charming or Charmandejuan. Maybe its Bob. Or Siraaj. Or YOLO.

Well, did you know that us men have lists too? There a wee bit shorter. Especially when we’re younger.

Man List: hot. Read? Bonus. Cook? Bonus. Degree? Eh…bonus-ish.

Point is, in our youth, our lists look remarkably different. Here’s where my theory begins to rear its head.

Panama Theorem 2.5: As we get older, women start to remove things from their list and men start to add things to their list.

Removing things from your list isn’t settling, especially if the list is unreasonable to begin wtih. It’s more keeping in line with what actually matters in life and what’s truly important. So at some point, he need not be 6’5″ though it’s still preferred, but those list start to shrink, if not disappear altogether the older you get to the point of, “he made me an eggo, this morning, I’m in love.”

On the flipside, I’ve noticed that while in my youth all conversations pretty much started and ended with “is she hot?” (actually they still all start this way), the things that used to not be explicitly important like good person, fun, good conversationalist, nice, etc started to become more and more important. Now, you might look at that and and say, you basically want a balanced, well-rounded person, and you’d be right.

Now, the key to finding that person for you is that both of those “lists” (really just the things that matter to you most, like God, peanut butter, and Hall & Oates) to align. You happen to meet somebody who has those qualities you’ve reasonabled your list down to as a woman and improved your list up to as a man and #wallahmagic you may have found you a mate.

Of course, this ignores the efelant in the room of “you must find said person attractive” though read the fine print. They don’t have to be attractive, you just have to find them attractive. Which makes them attractive. Remember that horse thing?

Mind blown again.

Or more poetically, didn’t I blow your mind this time, didn’t I? Sing it like a Delfonic. What the f*ck is a Delfonic? You know aside from a member of the group. I do know that if you have more than one Delfonic, you have Delfonics. Fight me.

I just used 700 words to say this:

As we get older, men add things to their “list” of important characteristics and women remove things from their “list of important” characteristics. But along the way I blew your mind twice and mentioned the Delfonics. I won.

So, what say you? Is this theory off base? Does it have merit? Have you done this? I have. I saw the signs.

Talk to me.


the list: what chilli (and everyone else) really wants

one of the side effects that comes along with intentionally branding yourself as “a person who knows things¹” is that most of the people i interact with care far more about my opinion of things than they do about me. mind you, this isn’t a complaint. my thoughts on gas ovens and the evolution of aziz ansari’s character on parks and recreation are much, much more interesting than anything i’d have to say about anything that’s ever gone on in my life. plus, not having people express polite faux concern about the daily minutiae of my existence means that i don’t have to lie as much as most people do.

basically, a win/win for all.

with this in mind, it shouldn’t surprise you when i say that in the past three weeks, at least two dozen people (give or take 20 or so) have greeted me by asking for my take on the (seemingly) ridiculous romantic requirements expressed by rozonda “chilli” thomas on her VH1 reality show what chilli wants. when i let them know that i haven’t actually seen the show (although, admittedly, i’ve heard and read enough about her “list” to know that she apparently said that she wouldn’t mind dating a wealthy pedophile as long as he didn’t eat pork–or something like that), they press on, attempting to bait me into a discussion by making a connection between chilli’s ridiculousness and unrealistic black women and their respective and equally ridiculous requirement lists.

at this point i usually change the subject to mike brown’s substitution patterns or the surprisingly nice looking 2010 ford tauruses. if i were to answer, though, i’d probably say each of the following things: Continue reading

10 Reasons Not To Date Dimes

They are sooooooooooooooo fine.

While many men seem to believe that trying to date a supermodel doppelganger who straddles the line between Esther Baxter and the chick from the Palm Pre ad is a must-do in life, I’m here to tell you that sleeping with women who sleep with the Hornets is probably an overrated experience. Well, that is if you want anything more than another notch on your belt, like say a future. Here are 10 reasons you shouldn’t date a dime: Continue reading

Blackness 101: 10 Things All Black People Should (At Least) Be Aware Of…

Barnes_Ernie_SUGAR_SHACKClearly grammar should be on this list since you’re not supposed to end a sentence (or a title?) with a preposition, but oh well.

Bumaye Panama.

I can’t believe we haven’t done this.  We’ve done movies that all Black people should know.  We’ve done songs that all Black people should know.  We’ve beat into the ground the Black in America series.  For goodness’ sake, we’ve mentioned Flavor Flav on this site at least 100 times.  It only seems natural that putting out the definitive list of all things that Black people should (at least) be aware of would be the order of the day.  But no.

I blame Jim Jones Lil Mama Kanye for this Shawne Merriman Chad Ochocinco Whitney Houston little orphan Annie Lil Wayne for this.

Anywho, I feel that the canon of Blackness needs some kind of direction.  And who better than yours truly, the expert on all things expertly to provide some guidance into things that pretty much should be par the course for all people of the diaspora regardless of class, religion, orientation, or grade of hair.

And so it begins…10 Things All Black People Should (At Least) Be Aware Of… Continue reading