Maturity is the “bitch-move”
but....
I’m no thug.
I grew up in an multi ethnic neighborhood — except for a couple token white families.....but mainly Nikras, Cubans, Puerto Ricans, Dominicans, a few Red Dot on the forehead muhfuckas, and assorted others. I never had to worry about them “niggas on the corner” or getting jacked while checking the mail. My block was never hot — unless, of course, it was July … or a bunch of damn luminaries caught fire on Christmas Eve.
I’ve had a few fights, but they were mostly with skateboard white boys....And they weren’t fight-to-the-death type shits neither… they were much more tame and we usually ended being friends again by the next week......Until I came to Memphis for my senior year.
I remember once I tried one of my cousins who was older and taller than me...... I was used to my cousins doing what the hell I said because I was bossy…and i was the favorite grandchild cuz I had good hurr and was the only grandchild in Memphis that talked proper.
Scratch that.
Bossy is such a bitch word.......
Like, little girls holding fake tea parties with stuffed animals are bossy...... And I like tea… sweet tea…. real sweet tea… not some bullshit iced tea with a packet of Equal..... If your tea ain’t syrupy like Kool-Aid, then it ain’t sweet tea......See, I know tea… better than Lipton could ever hope to.... And as much as I know tea...... tea parties with crumpets to match in the company of Polly Pee-in-the-Pants and a nekkid Barbie Doll isn’t my bag… baby. I’m not bossy… I’m a boss.
In fact, I call shots like a boss.....Word to Freddy Hydro in this Bitch..... Even stack knots like a boss......notsomuch lately....but ill be back like Jesus.....
And my floss? Yes, that too is boss-like. Dental and minty.
So I wasn’t bossy, rather, I was …. managerial.
Yes, that’s it… managerial.
I was used to organizing whatever activities there were for the day whether it be chasing chickens at my grandma’s house or holding some fake-ass breakdance classes teaching muhfuckas wack-ass backspins and doing the worm an’ shit because that’s simply all I could do..... Moonwalk??....... Me?
My shit was never smooth… the soles of my shoes would have carpet burn fuckin around with that moonwalk… I’d pull up all the finish on the hardwood.
It was less moonwalk, and more wiping-dog-shit-off-my-shoes-walk........ But still....... I usually ran shit around my cousins which sometimes had to be translated into forceful coercion.
So anyway, I tried my cousin once, and he told me to “Stop.”
What??!!!......Nigga tellin ME what to do??...... Dude, I’m known in the streets!...... I ran Summerfield North!..... Oak Leaf!...... Old Deer Trail!....im suburban New Jersey's most wanted!!!.... Clearly, this would not stand....... So I kept fuckin with him.....
And then he punched me in chest. Hard.
I.sat.the.fuck.down. Quickly.
But despite the scenario I’ve laid out, I’m no punk....
I mean, dude, I’ve been to North Carolina......
I’ll take my shirt off nigga!
And twist that shit around my head like a helicopter!
You don’t want none!
Well, ok, maybe you do....... And if you do, that’s cool… and let’s just leave it at that....
I can think of several dozen other things I’d rather be doing than fighting some muhfucka in the middle of the club.
Oh, let Lil Jon tell it… in my car… blaring all up and down Collierville suburbs….
I will fuck security UP at the club!.......Whatchu gon’ do?? SHIT!
But umm…. in reality… I’m just trying to get my drink on, and maybe get on the floor with some girl that’ll put a hump in her back and shake her rump… ya know… shake a little salt on a brutha.
Because, for real, security?...... They some big niggas… and the only strappin I do has less to do with Tech 9’s and more to do with latex - nonoxynol 9.
I’m much more familiar with Berettas of the Chevrolet kind, feel me?
So when I happened upon a scene while in a local midtown Irish Bar during soccer season earlier last year, I watched with much curiosity.
Let me lay it out for you..... We’re in a bar in Cooper Young.
To the left of us was a group of drunk ass Irishmen.
They’d clearly been been suckin down vodka ALL.DAMN.DAY.
I mean they couldve been Russians....They were loud and obnoxious like they owned the place.....which I found out later one or two of them did.......
They were actin like… well… like a bunch of niggas. *lol*
In fact, they were worse than a bunch of niggas…. worse than a bunch of niggas at the movies!!
Laughin all loud...... Stumblin all around the joint..... Knockin shit over..... Talkin that Russian shit.
“Borscht Gorbachev Nikita Koloff Smirnoff Spasebo Nyet Moscow!”
My Russian is extensive, son. Recognize.
It was in fact some Irish or Scottish shit....but for purposes of this story....and because i cant think of anything irish other than Notre Dame....Im gonna go with Russian....
anyways....
Drunk white people are so fuckin funny...... The women get horny as hell and start looking for dicks to suck.... They start kissin each other and flashin their titties...... And I think there was one woman in the group of drunk Irish folx..... I can’t confirm she did any of that… but she was drunk… and white… so I’m sure it happened… probably while I wasn’t looking.
And then, of course, they pass out, at which point the dudes they are with stick foreign objects in every orifice just because the shit is there to be stuck.
Damn, was that last paragraph racist?
Or just stereotypical?
I’ll go with the latter… it’s easier to swallow.
*ahem*
TO STOMACH…
*blank stare*
It’s easier to stomach… to stomach…. men should never say “swallow” unless, of course, they do swallow things other than food, juice, and medicine.......So “stomach” it is.
But drunk white men are aggressive as funk. Belligerent even.
And they say “fuck” a lot...... And, just for my own edification...... somebody please tell me what in the hell a “Fuckin A” is???
I mean like… what the hell does that mean?? “Fuckin A man!!!”
I don’t get it..... I grew up around the shit, but guess I wasn’t inducted into the inner circle where shit like “Fuckin A”, NASCAR, and Coors Light were explained.
Anyway… drunk white dudes, after they get loud, they wanna fight.
And apparently, the drunk dudes in Scotland adhere to the same code of intoxication as that of drunk white Americans.
Must have been something in the water that hey found the Blarney stone in back in the day…
Again. Stereotypes. Stomach.
So while the rambunctious Vikings are actin all rowdy and loud like a damn Project Pat video, in walks some niggas.
Except, they weren’t.
The Black dudes that walked in were, dare I say, upper-crust.
They were clearly African.......not Mandigo.....but more like Dikembe Mutombo n nem.....like no spears or bowls in they lip or nothin......
And they were clearly educated Africans that came here from Europe and not the grass huts.
They came in in casual business attire, and sat at the bar for a few drinks.
They were well-dressed and mild-mannered....like CBU students...
So, I mean, you just KNOW what had to happen next right??
The world wouldn’t be the world if these two worlds didn’t clash!
Drunk Irish dude heads to the bathroom.
He passes African dudes on the way and starts talking PURE.TEE.SHIT to them for no gahdamn reason.
And he was saying shit that was true, but said it in such a way that he made the truth offensive! LOL
“HEY, YOU NOT FROM MOTHER IRELAND!!
YOU KNOW NO NOTHING OF MY COUNTRY!!!”
YOUR SOCCER SUCKS!
And he just went on…. and on…. and on.
And on.
And you know what the African dudes did??
Nothing. At.all.
They brushed off his drunken antics with a smile and dismissive “okays.”
Disaster averted....... Drunken dude went to the bathroom, came out, bought the Black dudes drinks, and even gave them some borderline gay affection…. which drunk white dudes are prone to do.
I was SURE that there was about to be a race war up in that damn bar!
But I underestimated the Africans resolve and their lack of the-need-to-prove-I’m-the-baddest-muhfucka-on-earth tendencies that Black Americans have....cuz I was expecting spear chunkin and elephant bone to the larynx action up in that piece...
‘Cause fa real fa real…. if that had been some US niggas (besides me -- cuz Im neutral like Switzerland) in there???
Oh oh OH!!
It would have been ON and POPPIN like Orville Redenbacher at a breakdancing Seminar!
Like, if it was me...... Me......Kav Boogie....... With my no-thug-yet-no-punk ass........ Hmmmmm, I wonder how that would have gone
**wavy lines**
Irishman: HEY! You don’t shit about the mother country!!!
Kav: Who is you talkin to son??
Irishman: YOU! You are not Irish!
Kav: Hey man, just chill out. You’re drunk. *to his friends* Hey, ya’ll need to come get your boy.
Irishman: *getting in my face* I’m DRUNK but I’m Irish!
*And this is where it gets ugly. I can hear all the Black people in Orange Mound saying shit like “DAYUM!! You just gon’ let him get all up on in your grill!! Fuck that mayne!”*
Kav: Dude, you need to get the fuck out my face before I make Shepard's Pie out your bitch ass!! I will fuck you up nigga!
Irishman: I’m not nigga! YOU nigga!!
*Now I HAVE to fight him!! He called me a nigga!! That’s unacceptable… from him… and others of his ilk.*
Next thing you know, I hit him with a glass of Boddington's Ale.
His friends rush me and my friend.....We dash out the bar and are apprehended by the police........ International incident...... All because my machismo couldn’t just be quiet and let some drunken irish Dude make an ass of himself instead of both of us.
Kinda like that mulatto bitch in Crash....... If she had just stayed her ass in the truck......she wouldn’t have gotten molested and made her husband look like a bitch ass.
Now, back to reality, what would I have really done??
I don’t know........ But I don’t think I could have handled it as well as the African dudes....... My fuckin bravado would have kicked in and I would have felt the need to get aggressive in return.
But what looked like a bitch move by the Africans actually turned into the most mature response possible…. and the correct one as well.
Had this scene occured in The Plush Club, Fire and Ice, The Premire, or any juke joint on Thomas Avenue in Mempis, or Ghettosburg, USA, the Africans would have been seen as punks and the thug niggas in the bar would have picked up their slack and beat the beets outta that Irish dude.
But it didn’t, and I saw first-hand that the “bitch-move” is sometimes the mature one.
This after-school special and life lesson of the day was brought to you by Lil Jon and the letters B, I and A (BIA BIA!!! Why you actin like a BIA BIA!!!??) and the number 5, for the number of Irish Dude/Russians that would have made a nigga get Red Dawn on that ass.
Now pass the vodka, comrade.
