White People Really F*cked Some Sh*t Up, Didn’t They?

Colonialism is a motherf*cker, ain’t it? We all know that the “man’s” intrusion into Africa royally screwed up the world. But maaaaaaaaan, everybody in DC should look at the closest white person and just be mad like we all collectively decided to watch Rosewood. On a jumbotron. At the White House. On a Tuesday.

See, according to a recent book by Craig Timberg and Daniel Halpern called “Tinderbox” imperialist douchebags came in the door (we said it before), and took HIV/AIDS from its closely knit community at its point of origin and sent that ho travelling around the world. First Christopher Columbus “discovered” America, then pilgrims handed over blankets of death to unsuspecting non-ticket scalpers (that was f*cked up…Hail To The Redskins), and then random ass slave trader dudes come to the Congo, run into the one mothertrucker who had HIV who had smanged somebody else and next thing you know we’ve created the AIDS epidemic in the early 1900s because the man couldn’t keep it in his pants.

I’m paraphrasing of course, but this recent story – actually a reprint from the book – published in the Washington Post entitled “Colonialism in Africa helped launch the HIV epidemic a century ago” was interesting for so many reasons. Here are some excerpts (in case you miraculously hadn’t heard about this yesterday somehow):

So HIV’s first journey looked something like this: A hunter killed an infected chimp in the southeastern Cameroonian forest, and a simian virus entered his body through a cut during the butchering, mutating into HIV.

This probably had happened many times before, during the centuries when the region had little contact with the outside world. But now thousands of porters — both men and women — were crossing through the area regularly, creating more opportunities for the virus to travel onward to a riverside trading station such as Moloundou.

One of the first victims — whether a hunter, a porter or an ivory collector — gave HIV to a sexual partner. There may have been a small outbreak around the trading station before the virus found its way aboard a steamship headed down the Sangha River.

For this fateful journey south, HIV could have ridden in the body of these first victims, or it could have been somebody infected later: a soldier or a laborer. Or it could have been carried by a woman: a concubine, a trader.

It’s also possible that the virus moved down the river in a series of steps, maybe from Moloundou to Ouesso, then onward to Bolobo on the Congo River itself.

There might even have been a series of infections at trading towns along the entire route downriver. Yet even within these riverside trading posts HIV would have struggled to create anything more than a short-lived, localized outbreak.

Most of this colonial world didn’t have enough potential victims for such a fragile virus to start a major epidemic. HIV is harder to transmit than many other infections. People can have sex hundreds of times without passing the virus on. To spread widely, HIV requires a population large enough to sustain an outbreak and a sexual culture in which people often have more than one partner, creating networks of interaction that propel the virus onward.

To fulfill its grim destiny, HIV needed a kind of place never before seen in Central Africa but one that now was rising in the heart of the region: a big, thriving, hectic place jammed with people and energy, where old rules were cast aside amid the tumult of new commerce.

It needed Kinshasa. It was here, hundreds of miles downriver from Cameroon, that HIV began to grow beyond a mere outbreak. It was here that AIDS grew into an epidemic.

It really is an interesting article. Mostly because much like everything else negative that happens in the world, there’s a plausible link to slavery, imperialism, and colonialism here as well. Most people think that HIV made its mark in the 1980s and while its true that’s where mankind collectively began to notice it, apparently HIV was traversing the Central African plains for decades.

Anyway, I don’t have much else to add here aside from the fact that you can probably now say that if something’s wrong, it’s probably white people’s fault. And no, not individual white people…but the institution of whiteness. That institution that refuses to move off the sidewalk when I’m walking towards it. Or just move out the way.

I wanted to share this article for those who hadn’t seen it. What do you think? Is it surprising? More of the same? Or Does it even matter?

Personally, my only thought was one of, “that sounds about right”. And for some reason, that disappointed me. I shall delve into that.

-VSB P aka THE ARSONIST aka MR. GO THE F*CK BACK TO AFRICA aka GIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRL HE A 3

 

Five Legitimately F*cked Up Things All Men Do To Women (Yes. All.)

"You sure you don't want some Kool-Aid? I'll even get you some ice. And a pickle."

We’ve all been there before.

Girl invites boy over for movies, lukewarm purple Kool-Aid, and the unspoken assertion that, unless Boy shows up smelling like pickles or dressed like Chris Brown, Boy and Girl are going to have sex that night. Boy manages not to mess things up, and, lo and behold, the night ends with Boy and Girl making the beast with two backs. Boy and Girl have had sex with each other before, so this is no big deal. But, for whatever reason, sex seems to be a bit more intense tonight. The “mac and cheese” sound¹ is in full effect as moans are a little louder, growls are a little deeper, and the concept of time is a complete non-motherf*cking factor. Boy has a laser beam-like focus on Girl’s various spots, making Girl speak languages that have been dead for five centuries. When Girl eventually climaxes, the earth will shake, the moon will blush, and the ghosts of Ikea will place a phantom order to replace Girl’s soon to be broken bed. Girl enthusiastically lets Boy know that she’s 32 to 47 seconds away from orgasm, a statement that excites Boy and forces him hit spots with even more precision. Unfortunately, Boy becomes a bit too excited, and Boy climaxes right when Girl has hit the 5 to 8 second mark. Boy, realizing Girl’s thisclose to a cop calling orgasm, tries to finish the job, but isn’t erect enough to hit Girl’s spots anymore. Seconds later, Boy is completely flaccid. Boy rolls over, says “I’m sorry” and offers to get Girl some lukewarm Kool-Aid while Girl lays in bed and wonders if a female judge would acquit her if she happens to kill Boy but tells the judge her reasoning for the murder.

Regardless of age, color, creed, and feelings about Linsanity, every sexually active man reading this has “stopped short” before. We can’t help it. Even though we know that if we can hold off for just 10 more seconds your body will turn hot day fire hydrant, sometimes we’re just unable to stop.

Sure, there are certain ways to prolong things when this happens (i.e.: think about Kurt Cobain, switch positions, scream “Don’t move a gotdamn inch!!!!”, etc), but sometimes things reach a point of no return, and the woman’s near climax will be forever lost to the deep, dark, surprisingly damp, and surprisingly angry space in space where “close, but not quite orgasms” eventually settle.

Anyway, “stopping short” is just one of the many legitimately f*cked up things all men do to women, and here’s four more. 

2. Eat all of your food, and drink each of your beverages

Out of all the things on this list, this one isn’t really our fault. You can’t say things like “Make yourself at home.” and then get pissed when we take you to your word and eat all of your leftover pizza, half of your Cheetos, each of your lettuce wraps, and a full slab of your turkey bacon. 

3. Pretend like we did absolutely nothing to encourage women to continue flirting with us

It’s usually nothing too disrespectful or too egregious. But, despite how much we feign ignorance, we know when women are flirting with us, and we also know that all it takes to dead the flirting is to act indifferent, apathetic, or even occasionally annoyed. Despite this knowledge, we’ll still return the smile or the hug or the lunch invitation or even ever so slightly laugh at her attempt at “Ok, I’m going to say something that’s supposed to be funny. It’s clearly not, though. Let’s see if he takes the bait and laughs” humor.

4. Intentionally give awful dating advice

My favorite is when men suggest that, since it’s the 21st century, chicks need to “woman up” and start approaching guys.

Nevermind the fact that no man in the history of mandom has ever been in a happy and healthy relationship with a woman who approached, bagged, and pursued him. We’re generally lazy motherf*ckers who just enjoy when women put in some of the work…even though these “working” women probably aint ever gonna make it past the 2am Wendy’s drive-thru.

5. Pretend like we’re completely unable to remember birthdays, anniversaries, plans, shopping instructions, and any other information more important to you than it is to us

Admittedly, I probably do this more than anything else on the list. I can tell you exactly what Michael Jordan’s average PPG was in the 86-87 NBA season without googling it (37.1), but if a woman I happen to be seeing asks me to remember to pick up some eggs and celery from the store before I come home, my brain all of a sudden turns Tyga as I’ll faux-try to remember those difficult-ass details so hard that I’ll start drooling; a elaborate subterfuge with a clear and precise goal in mind: She never asks me to do that again

Anyway people of VSB, I’m sure I’m forgetting a few. Can you think of any other legitimately f*cked up things all men regularly do to women? Also, fellas, can you think of legitimately sh*tty sh*t that all women do to us?

¹When sex is very good, it sounds like a pot of mac and cheese being mixed with a wooden spoon.

—Damon Young (aka “The Champ”) 

I Motherf*cking Hate PETA by Panama Jackson

To PETA, dogs and slaves? Same sh*t.

There are few organizations that I detest more than PETA. For the short bus crowd visiting with us today, PETA stands for People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals. Now, I’m an animal lover through and through. I like cats and dogs. One of my dogs is actually on my credit card. Yes, you read that properly. My dog is on my credit card.

My mother has geese, the most annoying denizens of the bird world. No Amber Rose. Well, yes Amber Rose, but in this context, no Amber Rose. Real birds. Taylor Gang.

Moving on. Despite my love for animals I recognize one very real truth: animals are not people and do not trump the rights of people. That isn’t to say that I think people should be able to treat animals any type of way. Animals are much like children, especially domesticated ones: defenseless and ultimately looking to humans for food and protection. To that end, I make it a point to always treat animals with the highest of respect. Dipset, b*tch…nahmean? But PETA? Them bastards take stuff too far.

Especially when it comes to the ways in which they choose to get their point across. PETA has this stupid f*cking uncanny ability to equate the plight of animals with the plight of slaves. Yes. PETA thinks that animals and slaves are basically the same sh*t. I remember seven years ago (I wrote an article about it back then…egads I’ve been writing for a long time) when PETA created a display where they hung up pictures of cows and animals who were about to be made into bacon and steak next to pictures of lynched Black people as a way of equating the treatment of animals to a system of Jim Crow and intense racism.

Needless to say, Black folks were upset. Everybody except Cam’ron who I’m fairly sure is and/or was PETA’s public enemy number one after his line about his closet looking like a pet cemetery on the song “Down & Out”. Great song by the way. Oh and why wouldn’t Cam’ron care? Because his computers were to busy ‘putin’ for him to notice.

Hmm…not to be all extra tangentially Black here but is that the first time that a word was abbreviated in such a way that it warranted an apostrophe at the beginning AND end of it? Without it being a kids name? From the hood? Seriously, would you be surprised if you met a kid named ‘Putin’…and those weren’t quotes? After meeting a chick named N”D’Biane at my cousin’s graduation a few years back, I realized anything is possible. Zone 4 stand up.

I’ve lost my point.

Ah yes, the latest in the line of PETA f*ckery and nincompoopery was the motherf*cking LAWSUIT that they filed on behalf of FIVE orca whales who they felt were being held as slaves by Sea World.

Please. Read that again. I’ll wait.

*humming “Down and Out” by Cam’ron*

Luckily the lawsuit was tossed out by a judge who obviously has common sense but was forced to ACTUALLY decide on this case. But the fact that PETA was going to try to run a motherf*cking Thirteenth Amendment okeydoke on the American people on behalf of five whales who didn’t ASK for the lawsuit is beyond me. But there goes PETA again, lumping animal rights into the civil rights debate. The Thirteenth Amendment outlawed slavery OF MOTHERF*CKING PEOPLE and these fools are trying to use it to basically free Willy??????

U.S. District Judge Jeffrey Miller stopped the case from proceeding two days after he became the first judge in U.S. history to listen to arguments in court over the possibility of granting constitutional rights for members of an animal species.

“As `slavery’ and `involuntary servitude’ are uniquely human activities, as those terms have been historically and contemporaneously applied, there is simply no basis to construe the Thirteenth Amendment as applying to non-humans,” Miller wrote in his ruling.

 

People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals filed the lawsuit in October and named five whales as plaintiffs. PETA says the wild-captured orcas are enslaved by SeaWorld because they are held in concrete tanks against their will and forced to perform in shows at its parks in San Diego and Orlando, Fla.

Again, I motherf*cking hate PETA. Who needs the KKK when you have PETA trivializing the entire struggle of African-Americans in this country by equating the rights of ferrets with the rights of people who were killed because of the color of their skin. Which is why I got SO much pleasure out of the skewering the The Daily Show with Jon Stewart did. Wyatt Cenac, I salute you.
Peep the video below. It’s beautiful. And it’s Friday. F*ck PETA.
What do you think about PETA’s campaigns? Do you also hate love like they do? If so, Michael Vick deez.
-VSB P aka THE ARSONIST aka MR. F*CKPETA aka GIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRL HE A 3
Also, don’t forget about the VSB/Urban Cusp discussion on Black Identity & Culture in Mass Media panel coming up on Wednesday, February 22, 2012 from 6-8PM at the Washington Post Buildling. It’s going to be a dope conversation, I promise. Plus you can hang with Panama Jackson and throw things at people. It’s free and food will be provided. Not like half chickens or nothing, but finger foods and whatnot. See you there. Peep the flyer below.

The Gangsta’s Guide To Watching Chick Flicks

Make her colored and we're in business.

I saw The Vow. It was a lot like seeing the signs, except Ace of Base left me and all I got was Swedish meatballs.

*rimshot*

How and why I ended up sawing The Vow is unimportant, just know that I did and I may never forgive myself. Any movie being billed as the 2012 version of The Notebook is already starting in the lower rungs of hell so it was no easy convincing to get me to go. But I went, I saw, I conquered. We are Sparta and all that jazz. And it turns out that it wasn’t a bad movie. Overyly sappy? (America) F*ck yeah. But that’s to be expected. But it had some very real moments too; moments that I could totally relate to. And ironically the very thing I HATED about another romantic comedy (The Vow is not a comedy) is the very thing I appreciated about this one. Eh, go figure.

But that’s neither here nor there. While I was sitting in the movie theater waiting for the movie to start I noticed a cadre of men being dragged by various women and all of them looked uncomfortable…as did I. See, no man wants to see this movie. Well, most men don’t want to see it anyway. But see it they did because somebody of the boob either forced them, won a date via a bet, or lied and said they were going to see Safe House and pulled the ole switcheroo.

Look, any man will tell you and we all know that watching chick flicks is just the price of doing business. You start dating a woman and at some point you will be required to sit and watch some sh*t you’d always hoped you’d never watch. Like the entire lineup of Bravo. Or WEtv. Or anything on Lifetime. And I do mean anything on that network.

Moving on.

Here’s the funny sh*t about men and chick flicks: we don’t hate them as much as we claim. We just hate the ones that try to manipulate our feelings and draw out emotions and sh*t in crowded, public places. That? Is not cool. That’s how ninjas get robbed. And that is not gangsta. We have to protect our women after watching some movie that drew tears that other people may have seen? Maaaaan, listen. That’s not gully son. Men cry in prison and in the dark. That’s the real spit.

So I’ve compiled a quick primer for men out there on how to watch a chick flick and maintain your gangsta.

1. If you feel emotions rising up in you, kick the chair in front of you…or go to the bathroom

The only thing really ungangsta about chick flicks is that they make us feel chicky. Or what we presume is chicky. So the best way to undo that drama is to start beef with somebody in the theater…by kicking their seat. This works especially well at a Black theater because you know ninjas are ALWAYS down to squab. Excusing yourself is the more sane and educated route, but nobody loses there. And for ninjadom to prosper, somebody has to stay losing.

2. Laugh at inappropriate times

I remember a looooong time ago in college, me and a group of friends went to see Why Do Fools Fall In Love?, ya know, the movie about the life of Frankie Lymon. Well there’s a scene where Frankie ODs and two chicks I was with BUSTED out laughing. It was then I realized what wusses they were. They were laughing to attempt to mask the fact that they were truly saddened. So as a real G, that’s the way to go.

3. Pretend that you really aren’t getting caught up in the movie

Face it, these movies are meant to get you caught up. At first your not really tuned in until you look down and realize that an hour has passed and you’re totally engrossed in the life of this skinny white chick on screen who just wants some love. That’s all she wants. And your girl just wants you to love it to…which brings us to the ironic next point…

4…pretend you love it

Huh? Explain that Panama.

Will do.

Peace at home my friend. See, if you mock the chick flick, your girl will claim you have no heart, which is probably true…and she dated you anyway. However, acting like you LOVE the movie gets you all types of sensitive man points and since many women believe that if they like a movie it must be a good movie, then your girl will think that you have good taste in movies so when you attempt to throw on that pr0n entitled, “Staying Down Under” she’ll look forward to your movie selection. Or not. Or at least not after that.

Those are 4 ways to enjoy chick flicks if you’re a guy. Fellas, do you have any other tips for watching chick flicks? And ladies here are two questions for you: 1) why do you all want us to like these movies KNOWING that they’re not meant for us know they even exist? and 2) Do the men in your lives seem to like these movies way more than they let on? My mind is telling meeeeeeee…yes.

Talk to me.

-VSB P aka THE ARSONIST aka MR. VOW DOWN aka GIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRL HE A 3

FOR ALL THE DC PEEPS: Come out for a Black History Month panel discussion entitled “Black Identity & Color in Mass Media” hosted by Very Smart Brothas and Urban Cusp on Wednesday, February 22nd, from 6-8pm at The Washington Post (1150 15th Street, NW). The panel will be moderated by Panama Jackson and Rahiel Tesfamariam (Urban Cusp). It should be a great discussion featuring an interesting mix of panelists. It’s FREE and light refreshments will be served for your culinary pleasure. Peep the flyer below.

That “Cuddle Bunny” Bullsh*t

That rabbit is not happy.

I have no clue how or why women come up with the terms they come up with for the various random instances of affection and attention.

Boo.

Boobear.

Love muffin.

Skeetskeetmookmook.

Cuddle bunny.

It’s no wonder why our kids in the Black community have the most random first names or are named after medical conditions like Rosacea. Or Excema. Or Herpesia. But motherf*cking cuddle bunny takes the cake. I remember the first time a chick used that term while telling me she’d met a guy that she might be willing to make her cuddle bunny. I was like…whaaaaa? Cuddle what? Did you call that ninja a bunny????

Real spit, calling a man a cuddle bunny is another in the long line of male emasculating terms. Just like calling him harmless or weak or limp-d*ck noodle slanger. If a woman were to actively refer to me as a bunny I might be forced to commit a felony just to keep my own esteem up.

But what is a cuddle bunny? Women all know that its the male equivalent of what happens during cuffin’ season. It’s that guy that women call over to…cuddle. Nothing more, nothing less. Sure the possibility for smangage exists. If you put enough air and opportunity between a man and a woman with an attraction for one another, there’s a strong likelihood that the woodpecker will take care of the morning wood, if you know what I mean, heheheheh.

But that’s not the goal. For many women, having a man be willing to just spoon and cuddle shows her that this man views her in such a light where he’s willing to not have sex with her. He actually just wants to be there with her. Holding her. Wrapping her body tight. My my my. And I think we can all agree that’s the highest form of glory for many women. This man values her as a person, not just a piece of meat. And that’s lovely.

Wonderful even.

But I kind of wonder how many men know they’re being cuddle…bunnied? It’s kind of like the infamous term that we all know and love, jumpoff (as was pointed out to me recently). Men turn chicks into jumpoffs all willy nilly. Or something like that. Except I reject that deposit. No pr0n swallow. Actually…yeah. See, any chick who’s been turned into a jumpoff more or less knows it. Short of pure unadulterated delusion, women know when a man wants nothing more than the snappy nappy dugout. Remember, men suck. We disappear. We only call when its that time. Most chicks who are afraid of being jumpedoff ask a million and one questions to ascertain their status pissing us off in the process but hey, we get it.

A cuddle bunny on the other hand…

[...quick aside...did anybody think Jumping The Broom was a good movie? Do you remember that this movie ever came out? Me neither...]

…is a man who’s trying to get in there – and the chick knows this – who is willing to do what it takes to get there. And ye olde women are exploiting that man’s god nature and heart for personal satisfaction and affection.

Disgusting. Just terrible. That poor sap is over here with balls bluer than Cookie Monster on the 27th ring of Saturn but he’s putting in his work because he’s hoping he’ll get to the promised land, which doesn’t just mean smangage, it could also mean relationship. Basically, any man willing to put up with spooning on multiple occasions actually likes the chick. Except she’s likely not decided what she wants from this dude, ya know, aside from the temporary foot warmer he’s become.

Most women will say that by being the cuddle bunny he’s gaining access to a slot…well not a slot per se but a position…well not a position per se…but a connection that a lot of other men either would love to be in or just wouldn’t have a chance to see. He gets to come to her place and lay up next to her and watch a movie…with her. The lucky guy!

*leprechaun heel click*

Except, she hasn’t decided if this will last past her options or her attention span. And she’s calling the motherf*cker a bunny. So dude’s putting in the simp work, being emasculated, and paying for carry out from Pei Wei Express all for the chance to hopefully get some drawz that actually are on 50/50 status. And yes, I know that sex is a privelege and not a right. Woopty woop woopty woop woop.

All I know is that for all the women out there who feel like they get played by men, if you’ve ever had a “cuddle bunny” then you are just as bad and you should get a stern talking too and finger wag. Let the bunny go. Figuratively and metaphorically.

And stop calling men bunnies. It’s not right. It hurts. It might be provocative and it might get the people going. But it just not right…okay! You can’t just leave cuzzin’ Harold in the street to die.

Real talk.

Ladies, do you believe in having a cuddle bunny? Do you think it’s part of a man’s work to show you he’s worth it? And what’s up with the damn “bunny”? Men…how do you feel about being a cuddle bunny? You’re probably one right now and don’t even know it.

Sad.

Talk to me.

-VSB P aka THE ARSONIST aka MR. CUDDLE DEEZ aka GIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRL HE A 3

Also, check out Panama’s article at Ebony entitled “Motivation: Daddy’s Little Girl” and Champ’s article, also at Ebony entitled “Don’t Be Like Mike”. Ball so hard.