Bill

Photo courtesy of blkmnds.com

:-)

Happy New Year, everybody! I hope whatever you guys were doing was awesome or whatever. I had a very peaceful January 1, thanks for asking. I even made some resolutions, which I typically don’t do. More specifically, I made three particular yearly declarations that I plan to abide by for, at minimum, the next twelve months. Resolution One: People are dumb. Is that technically a resolution? I guess it’s more fact than anything. But, again, people are dumb. I even made a hashtag: #YallDumb. Because y’all dumb. But I digress. Resolution Two: I’m going to stop mentioning how dumb people are. Even if I DID just create a hashtag called #YallDumb. No more calling people dumb. Even if it’s true. Resolution Three: I vow to only speak to you guys in a positive tone. No more calling people dumb and rationalizing it with ‘but I just created a hashtag!’ So let’s talk about some stuff…

Who is more awesome than Oprah Winfrey? She’s a total class act and a role model to young white women around the globe. There are so many reasons I admire her. Golly, where to start? I think I would have to say her newfound respect for Jay-Z is quite appealing to someone like me. It gives me something to strive for, actually. How cool is it to have someone admonish your profession and culture, gain their respect by making an insane amount of money in the process, and have that same person wrap their arms around you and gently whisper ‘love the sinner, hate the sin’ in your ear years later? Oprah is downright decent. It only took hundreds of millions of dollars to redefine the lines of what’s unacceptable. Maybe if the ‘leaderless’ youth in Ferguson she so rightly criticized (constructively, of course. Oprah don’t be hatin’) or these underserved inner city children she so rightly lumped into a colored ball of wanton sneaker fiends could just stop making excuses and earn $520 million, then Goddess Winfrey shall bless you with her approval. And what on Earth is more coveted than Oprah’s consent to be a citizen deserving of respect?

People are entitled to their opinions, even when they are blatantly wrong and grossly off base. Please let me guide you to the right side of the argument since we are all about uplifting each other in 2015. The women (or “victims”, as some people have come to calling them) accusing Bill Cosby and the people bringing light to sexual assault aren’t terrible people, they’re just a tad misguided. They just don’t understand the issue doesn’t lie in the seriousness of the allegations levied against Cliff Huxtable; it lies in the attempted assassination of Black America’s TV dad. What is rape when THEY’RE TRYING TO BRING DOWN OUR FATHER BILL?!? Plus, Jill Scott said as much and the Founder of the Shea Butter Mafia always knows the score. Even Claire Huxtable said this is all a conspiracy. They’re trying to discredit him and, by pulling reruns of The Cosby Show off the air, are doing just that in the most systemic way possible. Now, if PHYLICIA RASHAD is saying this, then it has to be true. Why would she care about losing any residuals from her show being pulled? She was in a 2007 episode of Everybody Hates Chris; money is no object. Stop letting The Man (or woman. or women. Many women of differing races and nothing to really gain as a whole so many years after the fact) jade your opinion of Our Father, Bill Cosby.

Every generation, Black people get a leader that speaks for us and represents us in a way we all universally agree with. For the post-M.L.K. generation, that person has GOT to be Lupe Fiasco. Mr. Fiasco (née Wasalu Muhammed Jaco), for those that don’t really give a shit, is an outspoken rap artist. Here’s why you should care, though: his music consists largely of telling Black America that we are living our lives completely wrong. As accurate as this is, the true genius lies in Mr. Fiasco’s unwillingness to give us logical ways to remedy the problems plaguing our societies. This speaks to true leadership:

“Let’s point out what’s wrong and say it’s wrong! Providing alternatives isn’t what we need concern ourselves with!”

How can you not march with this man?? Furthermore, true leaders abide by one simple idiom: do as I say and not as I do. I don’t know about you, but I would hate to follow any man that actually LIVED the words he spoke. For example, Mr. Fiasco rails against the drug game that has dogged Our communities for years. However, Chilly, the co-founder of Fiasco’s music imprint, 1st & 15th Records, was indicted and sent to jail for the very same thing Lupe tells us to eschew. The fact that label- and his very stardom- can be directly attributed to heinous activity that also very well has contributed to even MORE violence in Mr. Fiasco’s hometown of Chicago, Illinois is merely secondary. How can people say he’s “hypocritical”, “disingenuous”, and “sanctimonious”? The man has a right to tell us how to live while shielding his own life at his convenience.

It’s a simple thing, really. Content of character does not lie in one’s actions. Clearly, it is their words that truly show us who they are. To many young Black boys and girls, Oprah Winfrey is that little poor girl from Tennessee by way of Wisconsin by way of Kosciusko, Mississippi that made something of herself. I doubt she even remembers that, and why should she? Becoming a billionaire isn’t about who you were; it’s about appealing to those that can make you more. What’s so elitist about that? Cosby taught generations of boys and girls to support his business interests. Him APPEARING to be a good person is way more lucrative than him actually BEING one. What’s so evil about that? Lupe Fiasco is a pseudo anti-establishment puppet with real outrage at the people he “represents” while maintaining faux-indignation at those that force him to acquiesce to their caricature sketches of Us. But why is that so fake? Seriously people, let’s applaud these titans of Black Excellence! And lastly, don’t forget to smile. All the best to you guys in 2015. For this and all other blessings, I pray to Our Father, Bill Fucking Cosby.

A.J. Armstrong truly believes in Our Father, Bill Cosby. At the risk of jeopardizing his resolution a mere 9 days in, all of these totally logical arguments that don’t stray from the fundamental issue of right and wrong are absolutely ridiculous. But he is also the Creator of The Fly Hobo and His World of Oddities. ❤ you, Oprah

My Last Post About Women Ever, Part IV: THOT-ful: A Jump-Off Story

Jump Off

Now, I’m sure most of you have a general idea of what a jump-off is; for those not as educated, Urbandictionary.com defines them as ‘a woman of dubious sexual practices’.  They go by many names (rollers, crankers, tip drills, shones, etc.), as do their…”talents”. I refrain from using more derogatory words because they have different meanings for me; if that’s how you choose to identify them, I can’t really do much about that, now can I?

Where was the avenue for these types of women birthed from? Nobody knows the true origin story of jump-offs, nor do we know the primary characters. We just know some dude found some woman to do what he “needed” her to do one day. While I don’t know the exact date, the creation of the modern jump most likely happened something like this:

OCTOBER 1991

Two dudes- we’ll call them Los and William- were lounging in a Washington, D.C.-area strip club in October 1991. Los, dressed in a black Champion hoodie, Karl Kani jeans, and Nike Air Max 180s, was in stark contrast to the well-groomed William who was clad in a grey three-piece suit and blue tie. These were very different men of two different generations, castes, and classes. However, what they did have in common built the foundation of what I speak on today.

“Lemme get a quarter to call my girl,” Los asks over his shoulder, eyes still fixated on the voluptuous Carmel-colored woman on his lap. Two songs and $10 later, he grabs the quarter and saunters to the pay phone. Placing the quarter in, the only thought he could muster in his hazy mind is broad better be woke. After misdialing twice, a ringtone finally becomes audible in the receiver.

“Aye…you woke?”

“…Mmm…”

“Get up, young.”

“For what, nigga?”

“I’m trynna see you.”

“…Bye.”

As he hangs up the phone, he subconsciously scans the dimly lit building for an answer to his sexual tension. Three hours in a strip club tends to do that to people. Unable to find anything of value that wasn’t on the stage or the pole, Los, in an act of desperation and excitement, pulls aside a waitress. “I got a hundred if you trynna do something.”

The indignant look on the high school senior’s face probably would have been an indicator to a more sober and rational Los to stop, but the Crown Royal only urges him on.

“One-fifty, slim…no wait…two hundred. Only cuz I ain’t seen ‘em,” he adds with a sly grin as he points to the frilly lace bra she wore.

Something about money- the prospect of receiving it in particular- really piques a true jumps interest. The waitress, who had been disgusted and offended at Los’ crude courting, was not seriously considering his offer…at first. All of a sudden, she senses an opportunity to bargain with the young man; he doesn’t even look that bad, she rationalizes.

“$300.”

She knew Los was not going to accept; she just wanted a place to begin negotiations. Los’ arched eyebrows of disbelief were a bonus.

“Hell na…$250. That’s all I got. If you would have hit me up sooner, I might’ve thought about three. Your bad, slim.”

“$250?”

“$250.”

“…Mmm…I’m with it. Lemme finish giving these drinks out and I’ll come get you.”

William, noticing the whole exchange take place, shared Los’ dilemma. Not only was his wife sleep, she was in Arkansas. His problem was further compounded by the fact that he was a high-profile public official. Hell, even being at this club at two in the morning was questionable. Being high and tipsy made this situation downright scandalous. There was too much risk for him despite his urges to do exactly what Los had so fearlessly done minutes prior.

FEBRUARY 1996

While on a conference call, William motioned to a young intern to enter his office. As this was the fourth or fifth time, the slightly overweight 22 year-old was well aware of what he desired. Taking her position under his desk and away from view, she began her spectacular and sudden ascent into pop culture infamy. The scene in the club had stuck with him all these years and he reveled in finally being able to wildly live out those whimsical fantasies. The intern’s careful positioning under the desk proved heady, because shortly afterward, the office door slowly creaked open to reveal an aged man with a stack of papers in his arms. “These are urgent and pressing documents you need to address immediately, Mr. President.”

Now you know how jump-offs became popular knowledge, by a man in a strip club and the 42nd President of the United States (sure, some of those facts are debatable but that’s how I remember it). That totally true scene also…er…okay, this is absurd. This was also probably not the best story to share with my little cousin’s third grade class. I’m going to go re-evaluate my life; I’ll see you guys next Thursday for the My Last Post…finale. In the meantime, you can read Part I, Part II, and Part III to occupy your time.

A.J. Armstrong will be finishing his five-part exploration next Thursday. He is also the creator of The Fly Hobo and His World of Oddities…? Right?