Niggers Don’t Know Shit

 

Whoa Whoa Whoa! Niggers don't know shit? Yea, basically. NIGGERS? WHY NIGGERS? Read on...

Fresh out of Rap Sessions an event hosted by the Black Student Union here at Lehigh, I feel compelled to write down what I have been thinking about for some time now. Please bear with me though, as I may bring up a few old topics during this rant. Today I will be talking about the word Nigger.

Let me start by saying I do not have much of a problem with the word 'nigga.' Although the word's origins began in a derogatory sense in the form of 'nigger,' it has since evolved after the black community embraced it and brought it under a better light.

I won't go into an extensive history of the word. That is what Wikipedia.org is for. As it relates to AAs today, only recently have the changes been put in place to bring the word nigger where it is today. Race relations between AAs and Caucasians have been steadily progressing since the reformative sixties. The sacrifices of icons such as King and X do not go unnoticed. AAs during this time faced many hardships, including being constantly assaulted by Caucasians who knew no shame. Part of the assault was the use of the word nigger. This blatant outward racism has existed since black people were brought to this nation up until much of the eighties. People then born in the eighties would be too young to ever have been affected by this. It is why nigger is a word that touches the wrong cord of African-Americans who were born generally before 1980. (This estimate can swing five years in any direction) AAs born after this period have not been attacked with the word nigger anywhere near as much as those before them have. I do not suggest that AAs are no longer called niggers in a derogatory sense because that does happen, but what I AM saying is that the numbers are most definitely down for the generation born in the 80s.

African-Americans born during this time then heard from authority figures that the word nigger is "bad" and that "don't say that." What do we learn when people are told they cannot do something? The word becomes bigger than it ever was. It transcends itself as kids hear the word (from their parents mouths no less) and then are banned from saying it. It is nebulous, yet when it is heard, comes with as sharp an edge as the word "fuck." But no, this word is especially bad. It degrades black people. So then why did all of these young children in the late eighties and nineties hear so many black people saying it. They would not have heard it come out of a white man's mouth, unless in a rare slip of the tongue. America had changed, it was no longer acceptable for that type of behavior from white people, at least in public. So now these young black people are more comfortable with the word than their parents could ever be. Not only have they never been assaulted with the word, but they ALSO heard it all the time in regular conversation AND are then banned from using it! Therefore, there is no understanding of how hurtful it was for their parents and their parents parents to be called a nigger.

Now it is a part of our vocabulary and we have adapted it to fit our needs. It is now mainly a general term for black people among black people, no one else. How did this come to be? Well as we got older realization set in, "dam this really is a bad word." We did realize what the word meant/means, I mean, we still get mad when it is occasionally used against us. So how to compensate? We cannot just stop saying something that has been a part of our vocabulary for about ten years, too hard… So the word was rebranded. It became our word. We, the blacks, took a little power from the whites… and we ran with it holding it above our heads and screaming it everywhere we could; in books, (that was a lie, unfortunately too many black people do not read) music, poetry, and everywhere else we could scribble, scrawl, or scream it. In addition, the rules were laid; it is OUR word and no one else's. We quite literally own the word. It is also currently under partial lease by the Hispanic community and anyone else we grant special pardons to. Attack anyone not authorized under Article C of the Fair Nigger Use Act.

So now that we have this word and we took their power from it, how do we infuse it with our own rules? Well first, we dropped the 'ol "er". We cannot have that! People might confuse it with the old word. Our word is now 'nigga.' It's like going from the iPod Classic to the new iPod Touch. Now it's all fancy and defies the rules by ending in a vowel! Never mind the fact that it's basically pronounced the same or that the Touch still just plays media like the Classic, they're different! Even though the Touch does email, and internet and… I want an iPod… ok bad example but you get my point. We have rebranded the word to fit our needs. It now refers to our friends, black people in general, sarcastic people, poor people, pathetic people, funny people, our enemies, and things generally associated with black culture. See that black man stealing TVs? Yea, he's a nigga. "Dis nigga…." we say.

We are not going to ban or forget the word anytime soon. It is a part of black culture that has been with us since we were first forced to set foot on this continent. As the Civil Rights generation passes away, so will much of their bias against the word. This is of course not to say that it may not be reinvented and rebranded again. This time with an 'o'!!! Niggo they'll say… who knows… But our current use of the word does not demean or degrade us. It shows how we, as a collective, were able to take one of the weapons that the white man beat us with, and partially desensitize and customize it for our own use. And now we beat them when they try to use it. While calling them a cracker…..

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A Perfect Day.....

Here I have presented two different perfect days. One for men and one for women. Read on....

PERFECT DAY FOR A WOMAN:

8:15 Wake up to hugs and kisses.
8:30 Weigh 5 lbs. lighter than yesterday.
8:45 Breakfast in bed, fresh squeezed orange juice and croissants.
9:15 Soothing hot bath with fragrant lilac bath oil.
10:00 Light workout at club with handsome, funny personal trainer.
10:30 Facial, manicure, shampoo, and comb out.
12:00 Lunch with best friend at an outdoor cafe.
12:45 Notice ex-boyfriend's wife, she has gained 30 lbs..
1:00 Shopping with friends.
3:00 Nap.
4:00 A dozen roses delivered by florist. Card is from a secret admirer.
4:15 Light workout at club followed by a gentle massage
5:30 Pick outfit for dinner. Primp before mirror.
7:30 Candlelight dinner for two followed by dancing.
10:00 Hot shower. Alone.
10:30 Make love.
11:00 Pillow talk, light touching and cuddling.
11:15 Fall asleep in his big, strong arms.

PERFECT DAY FOR A MAN:

6:00 Alarm.
6:15 Blowjob.
6:30 Massive dump while reading the sports section.
7:00 Breakfast. Filet Mignon, eggs, toast and coffee.
7:30 Limo arrives.
7:45 Bloody Mary en route to airport.
8:15 Private jet to Augusta, Georgia.
9:30 Limo to Augusta National Golf Club.
9:45 Play front nine at Augusta, finish 2 under par.
11:45 Lunch. 2 dozen oysters on the half shell. 3 Heinekens.
12:15 Blowjob.
12:30 Play back nine at Augusta, finish 4 under par.
2:15 Limo back to airport. Drink 2 Bombay martinis.
2:30 Private jet to Nassau, Bahamas. Nap.
3:15 Late afternoon fishing excursion with topless female crew.
4:30 Catch world record light tackle marlin-1249 lbs.
5:00 Jet back home. En route, get massage from naked supermodel.
7:00 Watch CNN Newsflash. Clinton resigns.
7:30 Dinner. Lobster appetizers, 1963 Dom Perignon, 20 Oz. New York strip.
9:00 Relax after dinner with 1789 Augler Cognac and Cohiba Cuban cigar.
10:00 Have sex with two 18 year old nymphomaniacs.
11:00 Massage and Jacuzzi.
11:45 Go to bed.
11:50 Let loose a 12 second, 4 octave fart. Watch the dog leave the room.
11:55 Laugh yourself to sleep.

What would your perfect day be? I'm sure it's pretty close to what's up top! Respond in the comments!!!!
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How To Concentrate On Writing During Dealines

Here are some useful tips for concentrating on writing when the all important, dreaded, deadline is looming.

1. Switch off email. I don’t start Outlook (or if I do, I disable all the notifications that tell me I have new mail).
2. Isolate myself. I use Bose noise-canceling headphones but don’t plug them into anything. The silence really is golden.
3. Greed and guilt. I remind myself how much money I’m getting paid for a particular assignment and how ashamed I will be if I miss the deadline. This actually works sometimes.
4. Stop with the blog already. When I’m pressed for time, distractions like blogging and hoovering become very compelling. Knowing this makes it easier to resist.
5. Get up early. 6am is the most productive time of day for writing. No distractions. It also feels more virtuous than staying up late with work.
6. Little treats. I bribe myself: ‘Matthew, if you write another 500 words, you can have a cup of tea and a biscuit.’
7. Chunking. Setting a timer or alarm clock for 15, 20, 30, 50 minutes and doing nothing but writing until it goes off and then taking a break seems like a good way to make progress.
8. Go full screen. Switching Word into full screen mode (from the view menu) eliminates all distractions but the piece I’m working on.
9. Shitty first draft. Splitting the work into distinct writing and editing phases breaks the job down nicely and it takes off some of the pressure to ‘get it right first time’.
10. Change location. Sometimes, if I’m really struggling to get started, taking a laptop or my notebook to a cafe and scribbling out something there - a fresh new location - is a good way to jolt-start an assignment.

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Different Types Of Women

The female race (yes it is a race of its own) CAN be very complex. This mostly depends on how hard guys make things for themselves. It is my experience that most girls just want some dude to chill with and to be there for them. Not a man to fuck the brains out of from sunday to monday. (Please notice I said most). This is hard for a LOT of the male species to handle. So much so, that girls that won't "put out" are often ostracised (big word look it up).
Every guy (including myself I must admit) sizes up a female when he meets her. He then puts her into one of three MAIN categories. These categories have many subsets though. The categories are:

1. Cute/sexy girl -- I'd want to/will bang her.
2. Average looking -- Probly stay friends but I'd bang her.
3. Fugly chick -- The most we could ever be is friends, but I'd bang her if she's really puttin out.

(Based on first impressions)

As you can see, a guy's mind is always on sex. I have not included any relationship thoughts because only crazy people fall in love on first impressions. Lust and attractiveness is not love.

It is important for us males to think past just our primal instinct to spread our seed. Many a relationship has fallen apart because of a dependence on sex to sustain it. If you are with someone, sex should be secondary to the real felings that you have toward that person. It should be a way for you two to express your feelings. This cannot be stressed enough because a relationship with no substance that is based in a sexual relationship is doomed to fail.

Men just remember to be patient and you will get what you truly want in the long run. Getting rid of a girl because she won't put out is foolish. She probably just wanted a deeper relationship before giving it up. If you care about her, it will come. But if you don't care then drop that bitch! Just remember that one man's trash is another man's treasure (no disrespect to the ladies).

This is especially true because we all know that girls are evil, as shown here in plain math:



But more on evil girls later.
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Friendships Between Men and Women

It's quite interesting to see the difference in the type of friendships that men have with each other and that women have with each other. And what makes this so funny is that it's so true.

Friendship Between Women:

* A woman didn’t come home one night…..
* The next morning she told her husband that she had slept over at a friend’s house.
* The man called his wife’s 10 best friends.
* None of them knew anything about it.

Friendship Between Men:

* A man didn’t come home one night…..
* The next morning he told his wife that he had slept over at a friend’s house.
* The woman called her husband’s 10 best friends,
* Eight of which confirmed that he had slept over
* Two said that he was still there

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All Men Are Assholes BECAUSE Women Make Them That Way

Are all men assholes? I propose that they aren't but most women seem to think so. Although I don't propose all men are saints, it is the women that cause all of this "All Men Are Assholes" talk.

I will elaborate in one of my next posts.
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A Creation Myth

On the first day, God created the dog and said: "Sit all day by the door of your house and bark at anyone who comes in or walks past. For this, I will give you a life span of twenty years."

The dog said: "That's a long time to be barking. How about only ten years and I'll give you back the other ten?"

So God agreed.

On the second day, God created the monkey and said: "Entertain people, do tricks, and make them laugh. For this, I'll give you a twenty-year life span."

The monkey said: "Monkey tricks for twenty years? That's a pretty long time to perform. How about I give you back ten like the dog did?"

And God agreed.

On the third day, God created the cow and said:"You must go into the field with the farmer all day long and suffer under the sun, have calves and give milk to support the farmer's family For this, I will give you a life span of sixty Years."

The cow said: "That's kind of a tough life you want me to live for sixty years. How about twenty and I'll give back the other forty?"

And God agreed again.

On the fourth day, God created man and said: "Eat, sleep, play, marry and enjoy your life. For this, I'll give you twenty years."

But man said: "Only twenty years? Could you possibly give me my twenty, the forty the cow gave back, the ten the monkey gave back, and the ten the dog gave back; that makes eighty, okay?"

"Okay," said God, "You asked for it."

So that i s why for our first twenty years we eat, sleep, play and enjoy ourselves. For the next forty years we slave in the sun to support our family. For the next ten years we do monkey tricks to entertain the grandchildren. And for the last ten years we sit on the front porch and bark at everyone.

Life has now been explained to you.



Source [ Turoks.net ]


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A Story Of A Girl, And Her Grandma

The love one shares for one's family, it seems, cannot be measured by conventional means. The people who we stand by, who stand by us. The people who we will share a bond with for life, even if we never speak. This, is family. Sometimes, however, loving someone is knowing when to hold back so as to keep them safe. Here... is the story of a girl, and her grandma...

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I'm here in the hospital. Grandma got operated on this morning at about ten. I'm not so sure of the purpose of the operation but she doesn't seem to be any better. I decided not to go to school today, I wanted to be there for her. Uncle Miguel accompanied us and stayed with me in the waiting room while grandma went from surgery to the recovery room and now into her own private room. At about three in the afternoon, Ma and Pa showed up and at about six thirty we were informed that grandma was awake in the recovery room. The nurses told us that grandma could not talk and to make sure she undertood this. She was still under the effects of the anesthesia. Only two people were allowed to go in at a time. Miguel and Ma went first, then Pa. I wanted to go alone. When I went in to see grandma I was shocked. I just stared at her lying in her white-sheeted bed. There were tubes in her mouth and nose to help her breathe. The IV in her arm was causing a large greenish-purple bruise to form, and the monitor kept beeping her heart rate. I looked down at grandma's eyes- so grayish blue, more gray than blue. So sad, she looked so miserable. I thought she knew, I thought she could tell. Did she know? I felt miserable keeping such a secret from her. I kept looking at her eyes, her sad eyes . She reached up her hand and this low whispery sound escaped her mouth. Mama, ssshhh. The doctor said that you can't speak. Please Mama." I said. I gently took her hand and sat in the blue plastic seat beside her bed. I got up again and repositioned her pillow. I sat back down and stared at grandma. I stared at her face, full of wrinkles that told of her history, little deep lines and creases that seemed like the map of her life. I saw myself in grandma. I had the same fierce dark-brown hair, and the same curvy lips that were a little darker than the caramel skin we shared. I was the youthful version of grandma. The only thing we didn't share were those grayish-blue sad eyes. My eyes were dark brown, like coffee, with the sparkle of youth still in them. I got up to go, and let go of grandma's hand. I kissed her furrowed forehead, blessed her with the sign of the cross and then I walked out. As soon as I stepped out into the hallway, I broke into tears. I couldn't keep hiding the truth from grandma. How could I stare into those sad.... grey... eyes and act as if nothing was wrong, as if life was perfect. As the hot tears rolled down my cheeks, my vision became blurred. My breathing began to choke. I let out a deep sigh, removed my glasses, and wiped my tears from my eyes. It was hard to lie to grandma, she reminded me of myself. How could I hold this secret much longer. I knew that I couldn't let grandma pass away without telling her the truth. I had to tell her, that she had cancer...

--Diana Camejo

Trouble seeing the video or reading this post? Click [Unrestrained Cognition]
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