The Honeymoon's Over, Old Ladies

I can't take this anymore, it's as if I'm not even a human being deserving of basic civil liberties. These old ladies on the subway clearly didn't get the memo, I automatically get a seat (read: reserved), especially the end spots above the heat. You see, these puppies aren't meant to deal with that much standing that early in the morning (my family has a history of heel fissures so I really need to stay off me feet as much as possible, periodic foot massages and pumice stone treatments are also necessary). So it burns me when these old broads play the "won't you please give this poor, pathetic, decrepid, disgusting old lady your seat?" card. This false sense of entitlement stems from...? Yea, I don't know either. The way I see it, they are already over the hill and ghastly, I need to preserve this youth as much as possible. I mean, it's not often that you see a 22 year old guy with the princely feet of an 8 year old.

Don't worry, I'm well aware of the protocol, even if I wasn't those bitches love to remind me of decorum. I'm here to say, I'm not playing by those rules anymore, how many times is enough? Five? Ten? 100? For what it's worth, I've given up my seat for the last time, go bother some other young guy who you think owes you some sort of kindness, I personally, have had enough. Besides, your heart probably needs the excerise. Oh and be sure to stand up straight, posture is very important, we wouldn't want that osteo acting up again now would we.


(Not buyin' it, Honey.)

I Have Seen the Light

Black men, I have seen the light. Black asses, I'm sorry, excuse me for being so crass, ghetto booties are simply gifts from above. Sir Mix-A-Lot was never so right.

It all happened recently while I was shopping at J.Crew. While perusing, I found myself staring not at the wares, but at perhaps the most magnificently cultivated pair of ass cheeks ever to be concealed by hip-hugging trousers. So mesmerized were my baby browns that I failed to even notice the employee asking me if I needed any help.

I know what you're thinking, "but Bruce, how did you know? Was there a tingle in your loins?" No. "Did your heart flutter?" Sort of. "Did something just click in your brain?" All I can say is that this Nubian Queen had the most rotund yet comely posterior ever created and it rocked me to my very core. At first glimpse, I was spellbound, a sense of euphoria came over me in the way freebase cocaine gives you instantaneous extreme pleasure. To all the health teachers around America, you are wrong; crack/cocaine is not the most addicting substance to human beings. That honor goes to ghetto booties and consider me hooked. Call me a junkie if you want, I'm just chasing that first time high.