As I'm making a way too late PB&J I suddenly begin to think about Mrs. Doubtfire, naturally, and how truly fucking dumb it is. So, we are suppose to believe that even after Jonathan Lundy, the head of the TV studio place, finds out that the odd dinosaur rapper stock boy is actually a cross dressing sociopath that's mentally scarring his children and frigid ex-wife plus, not to mention, the attempted man slaughter of Pierce Bronson, we are suppose to believe, that he then went on to green light his after school children's show? Would Uncle Frank and Aunt Jack be accomplices when they took him to trial?
And so again it seems that it was a lot easier to get a job in the 90's.
I forgot to mention while it was still Black History month a touchy subject but I figured since it's now boring old Women's "Her-story" Month a.k.a. March that this post could very well work too. Gone are the days of women being forced to stay at home while being degraded. Now they are free to join the workforce and make sex tapes with hip-hop stars. I'm just saying that bitches have come a long way. So, please, ask me why that with all the advancements that women have made, especially black women, that they would go and let three assholes set them back to the days of mammydom. Of course, I am talking about Tyler Perry, Eddie Murphy and Martin Lawrence.
"I'm a good father."
The three of them have made a career out of dressing up in drag as fat black women to relative success. They are all multiple offenders. I think the Mrs. Doubtfire craze resonated and made it possible for them all because, as we all know, sassy black women are a hell of a lot funnier than deranged middle aged fathers pretending to be an old British woman so he can "play" with his kids. Mmhmm. All and all, when it comes down to it, I blame Eddie Murphy for starting America's love affair with tucked black penis.
"Sherman, Sherman, Sherman!"
Eddie really kicked off the movement with his multiple characters in the Nutty Professor. The only character he didn't play was that fat hamster. He played Sherman's force feeding mother and his foul-mouthed, sexually charged trashbag, er, I mean grandmama. To make matters worse, he goes on to make two more movies about that family of bowling balls. I mustn't forget his role as Raspusha in the movie Norbit, where Eddie made women proud to be fat, sassy and bikini-ready. Who the hell greenlighted this? I bet Maya Angelou crapped her Depends undergarments over this.
"How YOU doing?"
Oprah knew Gale would love this two piece on her.
Next we have Tyler Perry. Sheesh. That fool sure does love throwing his name out on the beginning of any damn movie or TV show he does. Tyler Perry 's This. Tyler Perry's That. Here's a good one, Rodrigo Reyes's Fuck off Tyler Perry. Out of all the fat black shemales, his is the worst. I'd like to think that I'm a good judge of character, well, physically that is. At least Martin and Eddie slap some latex masks on when they degrade themselves. All Tyler Perry does is put on a wig, glasses, lipstick and two sandbags for titties and voilà, Madea tranny trainwreck. How YOU doing?
Diary of an Angry Black Turd.
Lastly, we have Martin Lawrence. I know that there are a million things that I can say wrong about Big Momma like how she has Tyra Banks style calves but I'll refrain because I feel like out of all the 40something black dudes dressing up as women, he has the most integrity. A real air of sophistication. Martin gets a reprieve from my shit talking because he did something truly golden back in the 90's and that was the character of Shaneneh. Below is a clip of Shaneneh doing her thing.
That poor beach whale as seaweed on its head!
Go 'head now!
There is a lesson to be learned from all these he-shes and it sure ain't how to plug a weave properly. If there is anything to be learned from this, it is that black men want to be sassy old black ladies if only to ruin their reputations. With that said, honorable mention goes to the Wayans Brother for their award winning performance in White Chicks.
I had stated that earlier this month that I was going to reminisce about my all time great moments with people of color, rather, my black history. Trust, there are some whoopers or, in honor of black history month, some Whoopis. Some funny and some downright depressing. so I think to avoid the nickname Rodrig-woe, I will stick to the lighthearted moments. Sort of like watching the Cosby Show but with the neighborhood mexican kid.
Where's Sondra?
Many moons ago, my mom, Mary, decided to throw caution to the wind and get caught up in the radical movement of interracial relationships that swept the early 90s with such movies as Made in America, Jungle Fever and The Bodyguard starring my girl Whitney. I never thought Mary was one to purchase a "swirl" cone but sure enough before I could say NAACP, Curtis "Moe" McKinney became a regular around our household that eventually moved in. Here are some descriptors for Moe:
-loved cookouts
-didn't smell regular
-loved hot links
-had children named Reggie, Tyron and Mokey
-loved eating wings and never shared
-all around jackass
the Whoopster!
I really disliked him. It really had nothing to do with race or how his eyes seemed yellow sometimes but it had everything to do with him going out of his way to embarrass the shit out my sister and I when we were growing up. He would drive us to school in his '87 Chevy Jalopy and honk the horn the whole way to get everyone's attention and then dump us off in front of West Elementary School to be stared at like circus freaks. It sort of felt like the Scarlet Letter but in this case it was a black "A" which stood for affirmative action.
All of this came flooding back to me when I was lucky enough to catch the Khloe Kardashian and Lamar Odom commercial for their new fragrance Desegregation. It reminded me of how grossed out I felt whenever Mary and Moe would be affectionate with one another. It's really not that surprising that my short busty 65 year old Latina mother does in fact remind me of that Armenian transvestite linebacker Khloe Kardashian. If only Mary would have landed a basketball player instead of a roofer.
After an awesome workout late this afternoon, I decided to partake in a ritual that dates all the way back to 2002 in McClintock Hall at ASU. There is nothing like a cold beer in a hot shower, especially during this nasty winter storm that has crippled the Southeast. Beer in the shower makes me want to watch Arrested Development but more importantly, Tobias Funke with his never-nude ways. To commemorate this occasion, I decided to write a haiku.
