Most of you who know me know I am rarely interested in talking in much depth about race. I’m grateful that those who came before me paved the way so I have a choice as to whether I want to discuss race or not, but as it stands I find it boring and pointless to expend too much lifespan discussing the pros and cons of something none of us chose. Love who you are, love your brothers and sisters whether they descend from Wales, Israel or Mozambique, and focus on living well in general while you’re here.
That being said, I’m tired of news networks parading all these black correspondents and analysts in front of me just because Barack Obama’s running for president. I love Eugene Robinson, but if you think he’d be on TV every other night if John Edwards and Hilary Clinton were scrapping for the nomination, I’d want some of whatever you’re smoking because you are high as hell.
I should be more specific, I’m not really upset about them being on TV right now. I’m upset thinking about 3 months after the election’s over or after the Obama administration’s over, when all these talented brothers and sisters very quietly get “downsized”. Won’t even have to wait for news that Obama’s day is done, I’ll turn on my TV and we’ll be back to “the norm”, 20 different news channels and all the anchors look exactly like Stone Philips.
“Obama must’ve lost the election, there’s only three black people on NBC again, and two of em are Lester Holt.”
The last straw was seeing comedian Chuck Nice on MSNBC’s “Morning Joe” a few months ago. Chuck Nice? Really? Now I don’t have a problem with Chuck Nice or his comedy, “Best Week Ever” is a good way to kill the early part of a Friday night before you feel like going out and paying $20 to stand around awkwardly on a dance floor for four hours, scared to make a move because every hot girl you see either has a circle of trolls masquerading as friends or a super-jealous phantom-like boyfriend who thinks it’s cute to pop up outta nowhere and ask what the hell you think you’re doing… What was I talking about again? Oh yeah, Chuck Nice, I don’t have a problem with him, I just think as a rule you should never trust a black man named “Chuck”, that brother’s got to be up to something. It just feels like a talkin’-to every black child named Charles must’ve received as a kid, you gotta be willful to overcome that hard-wiring.
“Baby, don’t you let these people out here just call you anything. You’re not Charlie, you’re not Chuck, not Chaz, your name is Charles baby, and don’t you never let me hear otherwise. I don’t care if I’m dead in my grave, I’ll come right back just to pop you upside your head…”
Moms always have to specify they’re going to “pop you upside your head”. Has anyone ever been popped downside? It’s been a few generations since this phrase was coined, think it’s safe to assume that any popping is going to be in an upside direction from now on. Doesn’t matter anyway, being struck is being struck; direction is the least of our concerns (it’s not like we’d have a preference anyway).
Chuck Nice sounds like a fake name a naturally militant brother would think of to keep from scaring white people at a mixer.
“Don’t worry guys, my name’s Chuck Nice and I’m your friend. I love golf, reserved church services, and Mandy Moore, but purely in a platonic way. Ooh, is that brie? Outstanding!”
Kinda feel bad now, just singled this man out for no reason. Probably get some hate mail in the near future, wouldn’t be surprised if he brought a camera crew to record himself punking me out…
“Listen you little b*tch, I’ve had just about enough of all this sh*t talk, you think I’m soft cause I wear a blazer motherf*cker? Do you think I’m soft cause I wear a blazer? Answer the damn question! Oh you ain’t got nothing to say now, huh? That’s good, cause I will run these wingtips all up and down yo ass, I will stay in your ass like a thong boy. I’m from Philly baby, you should’ve known better than to get started with me… lemme hear about you saying something else, see if I don’t come right back to this muthaf*cka, disrupt yo sh*t again, only next time I’m comin’ with five nuthin’-to-lose muhf*ckas who ain’t worried about having two strikes. Talking smack about my name like I ain’t nobody… I know your grandmamma done told you about that mouth, you need to listen up and mind your damn elders…”
While I’m in the background mumbling something to the effect of “This was a horrible misunderstanding, it won’t happen again Mr. Nice…” he looks into the camera and says
“Hey people, This is Chuck Nice and I’m having the Best Week Ever! I’ll be coming soon to a comedy club near you, check me out at the Richmond Funnybone July 3rd, 4th, and 5th!”
From that point forward, the rest of my blogs entries will be about cashew peanuts and how much respect I have for that guy who played Mr. Belding on “Saved By the Bell”. It won’t be funny, but at least I won’t have to worry about Chuck Nice and his Two-Strike Legion of Doom.
For the record, I don’t think you should trust any grown man named Chuck, there have only been five great Chucks in all of history so far, Chuck Taylor, Chuck Yeager, Chuck Brown, Chuck Jones and Chuck E. Cheese, All the other Chucks? Selling hardware and tackle boxes down at Costco.
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