Tag Archives: white women

four completely practical and non-racist reasons why i never have and most likely never will date a white woman

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this was so unexpected, jamal. how did you know i always wanted the 'good times' dvd boxset?
this was so unexpected, jamal. how did you know i always wanted the ‘good times’ dvd boxset?

6.  as of monday, november 30th, 2009, i’ve officially filed “since i’m not a billionaire, i don’t think i’d have any chance of getting the benefit of the doubt if any random legal mess occurred” as reason #137 on the champ’s list of “137 completely practical and non-racist reasons why i never have and most likely never will date a white woman”

—the last random thought listed in yesterdays ‘six things i’ve thought about tiger woods, elin nordegren, and golfgate’.

although the tone of my writing might occasionally paint a different picture, i actually don’t dislike white women at all, and i really appreciate a few of their unique talents.

they gave us natalie portman and the best teacher i ever had (r.i.p., sister roberta). they also usually make for great senators, copy-editors, and baristas, and no one is better at running “corporate game” (the ability to use office politics and mores to their benefit) than a professional white woman. in fact, some of my best friends have friends who know people who have married them.

despite this, i wasn’t using any hyperbole yesterday when i mentioned having “137 completely practical and non-racist reasons why i never have and most likely never will date one”. although actually having 137 reasons why you havent dated someone of a different race seemingly contradicts the whole “non-racist” thing, this list is comprised of more personal quirks and odd idiosyncrasies than anything else

while time and space and liz prevent me from naming all 137, i’ve decided to share four of them today. Continue reading →

six things i’ve thought about tiger woods, elin nordegren, and golfgate

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1. a nurse at a hospital for albino roaches. the guy who rocks the michelin man costume outside of the jiffy lube on penn avenue every monday afternoon. the head dishwasher at tuesday’s state dinner. the person from alcoa in charge of nicky minaj’s ass-upkeep.

these are just a few of the things i’d rather be than a global celebrity. while the perks of fame and fortune are definitely attractive, i can’t fathom gaining them at the expense of losing the ability to keep even a modicum of privacy. while none of us know exactly what went on in tiger’s driveway thursday night, we can all bet on the fact this story will be perpetually regurgitated and recycled at least until 2010.

i even felt kind of bad for tiger for a minute last weekend, at least until i remembered that the number of square feet his home sits on is bigger than my yearly salary.

with that being said…

2. between shelly o’s ascension from national prominence to world icon, golfgate, and the steve mcnair incident, the whole “black men with money are better off with non-black women because they’re easier to deal with” argument has had a worse 2009 than kanye’s hair

3. apparently elin nordegren is a big jazmine sullivan fan. who knew?

4. i’m not a fan of calling people f*cking f*gs (no mcclurkin), but any grown-ass man pouting about the domestic battery double standard between the typical public reaction about golfgate and the chris brown case probably deserves that title.

yeah, yeah, yeah. i know hitting and scratching and busting blasian cats upside the head with titanium putters is wrong, regardless of gender. and, an episode of ‘law and order: special victims unit’ i caught on the usa network last year taught me that male spousal abuse is a very serious issue.

but, come on, man. you can’t compare an (approximately) 5’8′, 115 pound woman getting her ass kicked by a man who’s six inches and 60 pounds of muscle bigger with the world’s most dominant athlete getting chased out of his thirty-two million square foot crib at 2 in the morning by a swedish nanny, and you especially can’t use this as your basis for why “some b*tches need their asses kicked” (overheard in my barbershop saturday afternoon. admittedly though, while i don’t agree with the sentiment behind his statement, i do agree that some b*tches do need their asses kicked)

5. as of monday, november 30th, 2009, the list of black male celebrities who’d get the least amount of R.A.U.S.A.S (“relationship acrimony unconditional sympathy and support“) points with sistas reads as…

1. tiger woods. 2. michael jordan. 3. wesley snipes. 4. kobe bryant. 5 (tie). taye diggs, terrence howard, and that n*gga who played the father in ‘precious’

6.  as of monday, november 30th, 2009, i’ve officially filed “since i’m not a billionaire, i don’t think i’d have any chance of getting the benefit of the doubt if any random legal mess occurred” as reason #137 on the champ’s list of “137 really non-racist reasons why i never have and most likely never will date a white woman”

—the champ

ask the champ: movie edition

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***as written in the champs new contract, from now on, at least once a month the champ will directly respond to a question that was sent to the champs email address. the champ doesn’t really enjoy doing this, but since it’s in the champs contract, the champ will continue to do this because the champ has made it known that the champ will do things that the champ doesnt really enjoy doing, as long as there’s money involved. the champ is a whore. btw, if you haven’t noticed, theres also a clause in the champs contract disallowing pronouns.***

being that you’re a movie buff, i wanted to ask you a simple question: out of all the movies that you’ve seen, champ, which one had the strangest, most inane plot? i’m not asking for the worst movie, just a premise that made you wonder “what the f*ck were they smoking…and where can i get some of that sh*t for myself??”

for me,it would have to be “underworld“. think about it: a bunch of underwear model slash werewolves and vampires running around with capes, diesel jeans, and doc martens, speaking in old english but with australian accents and shooting each other with assault rifles. just completely weird, but, for some reason, it kind of works.

be easy

–t.j.

thanks t.j.

as you know, the champ is an expert in myraid capacities. from how to achieve the perfect standing “o” to orbitofrontal cortex hypoactivation, i am the master of many domains, and one of said domains is obscure movie knowledge. if you haven’t seen it, you can bet that the champ has.

with that being said, after racking my brain and “teasing the midget” clearing my thoughts, one movie stands out more than anything else. one movie with a premise so absurd, so inane, so inconceivably inconceivable that…well…it just leaves you speechless.

this is a movie about an undead black former slave/serial killer who only attacks white women.

please re-read that last sentence three times, just so you fully grasp the levity of that statement.

go ahead. i’ll wait.

done yet? ok.

an undead black former slave/serial killer who was “murdered” 100 years ago by a swarm of bees that he still occasionally carries around in his throat. an undead black former slave/serial killer who they say will only appear if you say his name in a mirror five times, but somehow always finds a way to circumvent that little rule.

yes, faithful readers and concubines, i’m talking about the one and only…

…candyman,

seriously…just take a moment to think about this. a black former slave serial killer who only haunts snizzles???? how the hell did this movie even get made? who green-lighted this sh*t? and how many wangs did the producer have to hold in his mouth to get this sh*t through?

can you imagine a producer going to an executive meeting trying to pitch this premise?

producer: “so, yeah…at the end of the flick, they’re gonna have a giant bonfire in the middle of cabrini-green, and i’d really like the blonde protagonist to be butt naked, and to get all of her hair burned off. that would be perfect”

exec one whispering in exec two’s ear: “who the hell is this guy, how the hell did he get into our building, and why haven’t we called security yet??”

exec two, whispering back: “ummm…this is the security guard. remember we said we’d allow him to pitch a movie to us as long as he kept the “sticky stockings incident” under wraps.”

exec one: “dammit! wouldn’t it just be cheaper to have him murdered???”

exec two: “we’ve already killed two security guys this quarter. a third might get the cops suspicious. your ass just needs to leave those baby goats alone? let him make his flick. with any luck, one of the coloreds in cabrini-green will murder him while they’re filming anyway”

how come i’ve never heard of anybody picketing a showing of “candyman“? “friends” would get protests and angry emails during their run because they didn’t have enough black characters (save for b.a.a.t. ***bad ass aisha tyler***), but a movie about a crazy black ex slave haunting white women somehow slips through the cracks like a fart in a stiff fall wind?

and, to make matters worse, the movie was actually scary, lol. sh*t, i’m 29 years old with a nice 403b and i’ll be a great uncle soon (seriously), and you still wont catch my black ass saying “candyman” five times in front of no freakin mirror, lol. i’m not taking that chance, i’m sorry. call me a b*tch if you like, but i’m just not too keen on getting impaled and disembowed by some 6’10 former slave thirsty for some white “gotdamn”

anyway though, excessively “gasfermating” joyous people of vsb, how would you have answered that question? whats the weirdest, strangest, and most inane movie you’ve ever seen and am i the only one still scared to say candyman five times in the mirror?

—the champ

the first perfunctory race-specific entry

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panama and i are both aware that the url we chose, verysmartbrothas.com, is about as nuance-less as a typical tyler perry movie title. we chose it because we figured it would be easy to remember, and also because we’re, ummmm, two very smart-ass brothas. duh. thing is, despite the “brothas” part and the fact that the majority of our regulars are black, neither of us have written anything race-specific yet. sh*t, if you look at our entry topics, this site could have been created by worldlywittywhitemen.com and nothing would be any different.

this is not an accident. i don’t know about p, but for me personally, entries written from a “man who happens to be black” instead of from a “black man” allows for a bit more creative freedom and overall resonance. at the same time, i’m not so naive as to think that my experience as a black man hasn’t uniquely influenced my perception of everything i’ve seen and done, it’s just that i feel like i bring more to the proverbial table from the “man who happens to be black” angle

with that being said, i’m still not planning on writing any race-specific entries (ie “a smart brothas perspective on interracial dating“), plus, the people over at racialicious have probably covered it better than i would, but if i ever decided to put the “black mans hat” on and write a smart brothas perspective on interracial dating, i’d want to bring a couple new points to the table, points such as…

1. it seems as if black women occasionally forget one very important factor when thinking about black men: the fact that we’re, ummm, men, and, for the most part, we’re more loyal to the man part than to the black part.

***don’t believe me? okay, lets do a little exercise. imagine that there’s a gun to you head, and the only thing stopping the trigger from being pulled is a choice you’re told to make: you must either change your gender or your race. (ie, a black woman would have to choose between either becoming a white woman or a black man) without even reading the comments, i bet the majority of black women will keep their race, while most black men will choose to keep their gender. ***

this is paramount in the interracial dating discussion for one reason: men are generally less discerning when it comes to sexual partners than women are, and, since black men are men, physical attractiveness and availability typically trump racial loyalty. this is true for all men, regardless of race. i date black women exclusively because black women are the bangingest women and i’m surrounded by them, but not solely because of any perceived loyalty. sorry.

2. i’ve never bought the claim that white women are less sexually inhibited than other races of women (either i live in a vacuum, or the people who make these statements have just never met any of the women i’ve dated, lol). in my opinion, the basis of this myth all comes down to one factor: ubiquity. easily outnumbering every other demographic group in this country, caucasian women are literally everywhere. you can’t leave the house without tripping over a white woman. sh*t, i think theres one baking a cake in my kitchen right now, and this reality skewers sexual perception.

for instance, lets say theres 5000 incoming freshman at a university. of those 5000, roughly 22-2500 of them will typically be white women, as opposed to maybe 200 sistas. now, lets assume that roughly 10 percent of these incoming freshman women are super freak nasties, willing to do any and everything to any and everybody. this means that while maybe 20 to 25 of the sistas are freaking off every night, as many as 250 freshman white women are budding porn stars, a number which outnumbers the entire black female freshman population, a fact which can easily lead to all types of misconceptions. its not that all white woman are snizzles, its just that theres so many white women that the number of snizzles by themselves outnumbers pretty much everyone else

3. to all the sisters who are deeply ambivalent about stepping out and trying “something old”, its really not that serious. if you’re lucky you’ll be on earth for approximately 80 years, and I’d hate for you to spend a good portion of that time sacrificing your own happiness for some romanticized technicolor loyalty.

do. you.

and don’t worry, you can bring him to the vsb.com barbecue too. we’ll even make him a plate.

i could continue, but this “black man’s hat” is heavy as hell. no wonder i keep it in on the shelf.

—the champ

sadie’s shady

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you know, its always good to have a few radical feminists (radfems) in your sphere of influence. they make great drinking buddies because they love to buy rounds, they always have many pairs of glasses with angular frames, they always seem to rock belt-less jeans with pockets full of trader joe’s coupons, and, after 13 a few jack and cokes, they’re usually pretty good in the sack. in fact, if i had to choose, my optimum 20 person crew would include at least two radical feminists of equal stature, just so that they could serve as go-to weekend human crutches (when you wrap each arm around a friend while leaving the bar and too drunk to walk)

a couple weeks ago, i went out for a drink with my lone remaining radfem buddy, who was mildly upset with her string of (her words) “wack-chunk relationships”. apparently, there’s been a distinct pattern with each of the last 5 or 6 guys she’s dated: initial red-hot intensity (read: “frequent and delirious sex”), followed by the men becoming aggressively nonchalant and losing interest…a literal beginning bang and ending whimper

now, although my radfem bubby is an, ummm, radfem, she possesses all the stereotypical characteristics men typically look for in women (read: she’s pretty banging. i’d even say she’s the best looking white woman i’ve ever been cool with. )…the last person you’d think would have men lose interest, and i was curious to figure out why this was happening.

this curiosity lasted for approximately two minutes, ending soon after i asked her one question:

“how do you typically meet guys?”

her response…

“you know me. if i see someone i like, i pounce”

…told me everything i needed to know.

this, the “aggressive nonchalance” is what typically eventually happens when women approach men, which is why i’ve always maintained that women should never do it.

now, admittedly, most guys would probably say that i’m nuts for saying this, that they wish more women approached instead of just standing patiently in the weeds with their thumbs up their finely coiffed asses, that theres no bigger ego boost than getting propositioned by an attractive and sober woman, and i understand that sentiment, because i feel the exact same way, lol.

thing is, from a relationship standpoint, a woman making the first move usurps one of a man’s most basic duties: to show a woman that he has enough balls to approach her. stripping us of that can give us the (usually true) idea that things will be excessively easy (pun intended and double entendre intended), and strips the women of one of natures inherent bitchassedness filters. the aggressive nonchalance typically occurs because he’s not really that interested…if he was he would have approached her

now, again, I’m not saying women don’t have a part in this. just as it’s our job to approach if we’re interested, its their job to make themselves somewhat approachable if they’re interested. smiling, eye contact, starting conversations, subtly making your relationship status clear, responsive body language fedexing thongs to his cubicle all of this is perfectly within a women’s wheelhouse. walking up to him and saying “hey, i’ve been noticing you for a while and i think you’re sexy. lemme have your number” is not

honestly, and i’m challenging the readers to prove me wrong, i’ve never actually seen it work. yeah, they may have dated a few times and exchanged some seminal fluid for a while, but i’ve never actually heard any first-hand testimony from a long-standing couple who initially met when the woman “bagged” him. not once. again, good people of vsb.com, i’m challenging someone to prove me wrong.

of course, i told my radfem friend all of this, and, of course, she didn’t listen to any of my advice. a few hours later, she actually approached a guy at the bar who she thought looked like a “hotter, younger, and straighter anderson cooper”.

moral of the story: i think i have an alcohol problem

—the champ