Uh-oh! Big Cynth in the house… I mean on the house.
You know, MR, You don’t actually like this song or this video. Rather you are captivated by the audacity that something so sub-human and disgusting could have, at a subconscious level. It’s like a kind of reverse-catharsis. The confidence of these people is incongruent with what one would expect of them, so there’s an irony there that fascinates in the same way that it disgusts. You wanna say ‘go Cynthia, do yo thang, girl’ because you take pleasure in being able to so casually pardon the joke that these people are. At the same time, you push into the back of your mind how appaling this really is. It demonstrates an feigned abundance of power to be able to not take this so seriously. A philanthropy that temporarily lets those worst examples of the human species sit at the top for just a moment and do their thang. You don’t take pleasure in these people. You take pleasure in yourself for allowing these people to pretend to forget how dispicable they truly are.
I don’t think you have any idea how decadent this is in so many ways. The garbage music, the low intelligence of the people, the glorification of permiscuity and riches (bling), the gross obesity, that ‘I’m the shit attitude’ that only a society that fosters this disgust allows.
You know what comes to my mind when I hear the phrase ‘she workin’ that nookie thang’? I picture in my head a females negro’s three-toned ass of brown, black and purple the size of a spare tire, dotted with pimples of assorted sizes, with stretch marks all over it. Then she lets one go… a long, deep bellow that sounds like a tuba. The fat in her ass cheeks ripple like jello pudding as the stench of a three week old Kentucky Fried Chicken grease pit floods over me like smog. She looks at me with those beaty eyes, winks with those three inch fake eyelashes and goes “ewwwwww, that one musta got away from me, shugga,” smiling at me with those gapped teeth.
No, MR, I do NOT want that nookie thang, nor would I wish that nookie thang on my worst enemy.
I wish I could plug you into my brain so you could see this. What’s that movie where the dude touches the hand of the other dude and all those visions suddenly pass through his head in fastforward and he almost falls over he’s so shocked?
You know what I hate? When a negro says something mundane and the other negro acts as if he’s surprised. Go to :16 when Cynth says “we got a contest going on here, something something” and Tyree says “come on now!”… like he just can’t believe it!
Negroid pleasantries always involve inflective devices like this in language. Thay try to build up and make more profound what is simple and mundane. They over-extend a pretension to be surprised or impressed with what the other says. Why? Because nothing they say or do is impressive. They compensate for this by enriching the dialogue with these false devices. Over excitability, histrionic behavior. Have you ever seen a negro run a circle around the room holding his stomach and laughing at a joke that isn’t even kinda funny?
The other day I heard a female negro at a store say something about getting a new car, and the other black dude goes ‘I know that’s right!’ He is trying to empower her with the feeling of achieving something significant, as if buying a car is an earth shattering event or occasion that the struggling negro (on welfare no doubt… you shoulda seen her) has risen up to.
I should write a book on this shit dude. It would be a best seller… then I’d be shot by a militant, black nationalist gang-member at my book signing, for sure.