The LAST thing I want to hear is Cornel West’s hate fest.  Period.

While I’m probably one of the President’s biggest critics  (and I have the blogging gunshot wounds to prove it), West, Mike Dyson and Tavis have all gotten on MY LAST NERVE.

They sling anyone under the bus who’s not cheering on their bullshyt.  I want some evidence of something they’ve taken back into the Black Communities to uplift and save them.  All I see are their books – and some I wouldn’t buy even if they were found in the bins at the local Dollar stores (although I give a prop to Mike Dyson for “Why I Love Black Women” – however, even THAT book doesn’t excuse all this haterade).

After the week we’ve had, I want these “brothas” to answer the following questions:

1.  Why the hell should the POTUS be begging you jackasses for….ANYTHING?  For God’s Sake, he won the friggin White House WITHOUT YOUR ASSES.  Chew on that.  Even Jesse Jackson, minus the “cut off his nuts” comment, is looking like he’d rather make peace with Obama rather than fight with the man.

2.  You think because Tavis gives you a platform at the Annual Negro Super Bowl, that makes you the leader of all African-America.  News FLASH – we see your asses for who and what you are…and we don’t like what we SEE.  You hating because Obama didn’t fall down and kiss your asses – you are hating worse than women who see a good looking lady come into the midst and starts hating because they think she’s going to be after their men.

3.  Obama ran the score up on your asses – Y’ALL CAN’T COUNT THAT HIGH.  And pleaaaase, stop with the “doing it in Love” or, “community service” in order to GET YOUR HUSTLE ON.  You hawk rhetoric, big noise and books that in this economy, ain’t nobody going to be throwing down $25.00 for, when that money can go to keep their lights or gas on in their house, or to buy groceries.  Call what you do what it really is: A HUSTLE.  Like I’ve said – I don’t mind you getting your hustle on, but please, stop calling it “CIVIC DUTY” because there’s nothing civic or dutiful about emotionally exhorting Black people to frenzied status to further feather the nests you’ve built on the back of the Civil Rights Industrial Complex, while you virtually diss sistas that have had your backs since your asses were in cloth diapers.

After the week we’ve had; a young man in the prime of his life – a husband and father – a brotha who was too legit to quit; he was gunned down in the course of doing his job as a security guard at the Holocaust museum by a Cracker so old, he’s still fighting the Civil War and I hope, if that cracker survives that bullet he caught in the face, that he’s going to JAIL or getting fried in the Chair.  I don’t give a rat’s ass how old he is – he was old enough to go to the Museum and start shooting – he’s old enough to either die in jail or get executed.

After the week we’ve had – where Dick Cheney is virtually daring the Obama Administration to come and get his ass for treason and crimes against the nation and humanity, because he’s flapping his yap and admitting he lied this country into a war for bootstrapping, fun and profit, you deign to insult the highest honor your dumb ass will ever receive – an invitation to join Obama’s staff.  What’s the matter; which skeletons are going to come creeping out of your closets?  Will it be how many women you’ve slutted around with and left high and dry?  Will your number of baby mama’s equal Desmond Hatchett’s?  I don’t know – I’m just asking.

After the week we’ve had, when the POTUS you hate on with such passion, you are acting like his ex-girlfriends that he dumped in favor of Michelle – is putting half assed legislation on health care on the table, reversing his position on gay rights and looking like he’s going to give the very industry responsible for our economic mess a free pass, I’d rather hear well-reasoned discussion come from your collective asses, but you appear to be suffering from cranial-rectum syndrome and you are so drunk on your own stink, you don’t realize that your fifteen are up and you need to just  STHU.

After the week we’ve had….do us a favor – if you remember how to stand in a classroom and actually teach some knowledge instead of your bullshyt covered in a race card in case Harvard, Princeton or Georgetown decide you’re useless, I’d rather you do that than foul up the airwaves with your shyt that leaves sistas out, sounds loud AND SAYS NOTHING.

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