Coffee Rhetoric: Dumbass
Showing posts with label Dumbass. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dumbass. Show all posts

November 02, 2016

Lifestyles of the Rich & Nignorant: Fame, Money & Cognitive Dissonance

In case you missed it, a video clip of rapper, Lil Wayne, doing a very recent Nightline interview with ABC News correspondent, Linsey Davis, has been making the rounds. The lead-in to the segment lists Wayne’s musical accomplishment as one of the most successful rappers of all time; even eclipsing Elvis Presley for more appearances on the Billboard 100 Chart. With that kind of cultural impact and platform in mind, Davis decided to pick what’s left of Lil Wayne’s brain, and ask him about social justice issues and his proximity to them. Specifically, Nightline wanted to know his thoughts on the Black Lives Matter movement. Furrowing his face in confusion, a seemingly disjointed Lil Wayne asked “What is it? What—what do you mean?” 

When Linsey Davis (bless her heart) attempted to explain the movement and its reason for existing— (Oh, hi white supremacy, state violence, and systemic racism), Lil Wayne said he found the mere concept of Black lives mattering “weird.”
“It’s not a name or it’s not whatever, whatever. It’s somebody got shot by a policeman for a f*cked up reason.”
That statement isn’t even the most misguided part of Lil Wayne’s statement and seeming state of confusion. He further mumbled, 
“I am a young, Black rich motherf*cker. If that don’t let you know that America understand Black mother f*ckers matter these days, I don’t know what it is,” He said, throwing up his hands. 
“That [cameraman] white; he filmin’ me. I’m a nigga. I don’t know what you mean, man. Don’t come at me with that dumb [indecipherable bleeped expletive], ma’am,” continued; highly agitated.
“My life matter. Especially to my bitches.”

April 20, 2012

So I Creep: Men Who Don't Like Being Called Creepy


According to an article at the site Jezebel, men’s rights activists (or MRA); a movement that surfaced in the 1970s to address inequities in reproductive rights, divorce settlements, domestic violence laws, sexual harassment laws, education, fathers’ rights, health care, and genital integrity among other issues-including ensuring that their entitlements stay intact by challenging the tenets of feminism – don’t like us women, hurling the word “creepy” at them in response to what is deemed, (more times than not) legitimately shifty behavior while in our presence and/or space. 
Apparently the ability to“creep shame” is a special power men seem to think women have; used to ostracize them in the worst way, because earth, wind, and fire forbid we have the unmitigated gall to exercise the right to say “no”, “I’m not interested”, shut down in response to elevated levels of unwanted attention, or even change our minds about wanting to date somebody for whatever reason.  

Writer Jeremy Paul Gordon wrote of creepiness in a 2010 article for The Hairpin;  
“Without a doubt, creepy is the worst casual insult that can be tossed at a guy. A guy can publicly scoff at something you say and be a “douchebag;" sleep with your best friend, never call her back and become an “asshole;" cry while listening to Neutral Milk Hotel and forever be a “pussy.” But creepy is not that simple. It doesn’t relate to someone’s appearance, actions, or behavior. More accurately, creepy is a vibe. You can’t define it — you just know it. It’s when a guy looks at a girl for a little too long, when he friends her on Facebook a little too quickly, when he doesn’t understand that no actually means no, not “Try harder.” It’s a tag that isn’t easily dispelled.” 
In any event, the Anti-Creep Shaming Brigade’s shoddy attempts at advocating against women who use their instincts to protect themselves against douche-like behavior, is an exercise in futility. And it's an unfair demand, to expect women to pacify the male id, particularly if she's protecting herself. But at least allows me the opportunity to share this excerpt from novelist, Phaedra Starling’s 2009 guest blog post, originally featured on the (now defunct) site"Shapely Prose", Schrödinger’s Rapist: or a guy’s guide to approaching strange women without being maced. (Which I was fortunate enough to come across via writer and cultural critic, Son of Baldwin's  Facebook page).
You want to say Hi to the cute girl on the subway. How will she react? Fortunately, I can tell you with some certainty, because she’s already sending messages to you. Looking out the window, reading a book, working on a computer, arms folded across chest, body away from you = do not disturb. So, y’know, don’t disturb her. Really. Even to say that you like her hair, shoes, or book. A compliment is not always a reason for women to smile and say thank you. You are a threat, remember? You are Schrödinger’s Rapist. Don’t assume that whatever you have to say will win her over with charm or flattery. Believe what she’s signaling, and back off.

If you speak, and she responds in a monosyllabic way without looking at you, she’s saying, “I don’t want to be rude, but please leave me alone.” You don’t know why. It could be “Please leave me alone because I am trying to memorize Beowulf.” It could be “Please leave me alone because you are a scary, scary man with breath like a water buffalo.” It could be “Please leave me alone because I am planning my assassination of a major geopolitical figure and I will have to kill you if you are able to recognize me and blow my cover.”

On the other hand, if she is turned towards you, making eye contact, and she responds in a friendly and talkative manner when you speak to her, you are getting a green light. You can continue the conversation until you start getting signals to back off.


October 02, 2009

Dear Juan (say it with the spit in the back of your throat),
While it was (not) somewhat of a pleasure meeting you at the bus stop last night, let me assure you, I have no interest in hanging out with you while your girlfriend is in the hospital, preparing to push out your seed.
Juan, propositioning a woman at the bus stop because you felt put upon for having to get your betrothed some jerk chicken at a nearby Jamaican restaurant and run various other errands for her, is the least you could do, considering she's indisposed and can't really do those things for herself. Also, the fact that she literally lives right down the street from me- a fact you so eloquently pointed out in addition to telling me you live in New Britain, are originally from Oakland, CA, and that you don't really know anybody from Hartford- is just not a good look.
I am unemployed Juan, and am desperately pounding the pavement so that I can get employed. I honestly don't need your girlfriend kicking in my front door, cursing me out on my voice mail, or whatever fallout that may result upon learning you're keeping company with me. Trust me, I do not want anymore annoyances in my life... especially of that sort. When I tried to reason with you, and tell you how asinine you sounded, you responded with: "It's not really that serious. We don't mesh well together. I'm hyper and she's more laid back and mellow. I'm bored, I need to have fun! Her ex-boyfriend is always calling her... even though she keeps telling him it's over."
Puzzled, I asked: "If it's not that serious, then why is she in the hospital about to have your baby?" "Yeah, well, she wanted a baby. I mean, we have another child... and we broke up, but it hasn't even been two months since we got back together and she got pregnant already, again!"
Since vomiting the lemon pound cake I ate prior to leaving my apartment, all over the front of your shirt wasn't really an option, I asked, "She got pregnant by herself?? TWICE? Fascinating!" Confused and slightly unsure you said, "Well, I mean, I got her pregnant, but she really wanted a baby, sooo... Can I just get your phone number? I'll just give you MINE then. I just need to kick it with someone and have some fun. I don't really know anybody around here. And she has me running all over the place getting jerk chicken and all this other stuff... I'm trying to take care of her business and mine too" you said, nodding towards the black duffle bag laying at your feet. Then you proceeded to ask me if I indulged in the chronic, if I had any children, and "Where're you headed now?? Do you drink? Can you call me tonight?" I blinked incredulously at you... Juan, none of these things are cool. They aren't sexy, and your approach is just... garbage. It was cute that you thought I was 25 years old though. I'm a firm believer in moisturizer. Anyway, that was THE ONLY charming thing that came out your mouth.
Please get your act together Juan. Juan get your life here! I hope I never run into you again.
xoxo Coffey

July 16, 2009

Order In The Court

I've noticed an annoying trend in courting rituals. One more small annoyance to add to the already difficult process of dating. Texting. I am not one of those self-righteous, anti-technology people who goes on boring rants about the evils of social networking, texting, and mobile phones. As annoying and impersonal as those outlets can be, I am very pro-gadget and technology. While it has it's cons, technology and social networking has made it easier to keep in or get back in touch with long lost friends, enemies, frenemies, and prospective employers. Many things in life have negative aspects to them... you couldn't pay me to travel back to the dark ages. Advancement in technology is not the sole vice or annoyance society has to grapple with. The phenomenon is only as stupid as the moron accessing it... which brings me to my primary point.
Men- (I can't speak for women, because I don't date women and many of the ones I know aren't this inconsiderate, but I'll be fair and say I'm sure they're just as guilty)- if you've just met a woman for the first time, made out with her, groped her, etc... and you've decided "Wow, I like her and I want to talk to her and get to know more about her beyond this point" and you insist... DEMAND that she give you her phone number... and you make a point of programming it into your phone while she's standing there, then CALL her. This texting bullshit as the FIRST official attempt at communicating ... "Hey sexy" and "wat u up to?" is nothing short of rude and disrespectful, and it's not a good first impression. Not to me and many of my friends anyway.
How do you expect to develop any type of rapport with someone you supposedly like... or want to hop in the sack with by TEXTING grammatically lazy phrases??
Behavior like this is vexing and agitating. Myself? I may give your brusque and short messages the side-eye, and after careful consideration, might even respond a few times. I may even give you the benefit of the doubt that you'll actually CALL and I'll hear a live voice either on my voicemail or in real-time at some point throughout the course of the courtship. I'll do you one better; In the past, I've responded to text messages by leaving a voicemail, saying "Hi," asking to "Give me a call when you get the opportunity." Which means, TAG, you're it! Your turn! Only to get yet another text in response, RIGHT AFTER I've left the voicemail! After a VERY short while, your texts WILL go ignored! Trust this.
I will flat out refuse to respond, assuming that you have no desire to actually TALK for 5 or 10 minutes, which is enough time to determine someone's personality and whether you want to ask them out on a date. I'll assume that you aren't interested in setting up a time to meet up and that you have no real interest in me as a person, and that you're only wanting to waste my time by playing electronic footsies with your cyclical, same sounding two word sentences. ... "Hey sexy. Wat u doing? Wat u wearing?" Level headed and tech-savvy folk in the know realize that "wat u wearing?" is code for, "send me a topless photo, and I'll send you a pic of my genitals."All before being asked out on an ACTUAL date for coffee or a glass of wine, because you'd rather wile away valuable time sexting messages like some sexually precocious preteen: "i want u so bad. wish u were here."
Listen, I text more than the next person, but I'm usually texting with people I KNOW. People I have connections with. People I also chat to on the phone. My close and best friends, my sisters, my mother, acquaintances I pal around with, someone I've dated, don't despise and have maintained a friendship with, so forth and so on and I'm not making an ALL DAY AFFAIR of it. If I don't KNOW you and am making every attempt to GET to know you within the context of dating, and you don't reciprocate that gesture, then you may as well kick rocks. And don't you DARE send me a message at 1:00 in the MORNING asking, "hey u up?" OMG!! R U SERIOUS!? How dreadful! Moreover, don't respond to my obvious exasperation with your thoughtless time wasting, texting : "I thought u liked me ???" or "It's just easier to txt cuz am on the run." If you're on the run, then BE ON THE RUN! How about contacting the person of your desire when you AREN'T "on the run" and have a moment to spare.
Look, I'm not one for walking down the street or going about my daily activities, jabbing at my phone's keypad like crazy. I understand that some people love it, but my thumbs get tired, it wears on my nails, more importantly it's distracting and detracts from whatever it is you're doing. As many people as I see running their pie holes on the phone while en-route somewhere, that "on the run, can't actually call" excuse is utter doo-doo. Texting sentences on a small keypad, on the run, seems like it takes more effort than talking to someone for 3 seconds to say, "I'm out and about, just wanted to call to say hi and that I'm thinking about you, we'll talk later though!" and then you hang the eff up. Don't ask for someone's phone number if you have no intention of talking to them. Get their email address instead if you want to type at them.
Cut this foolishness out. It's not a good way to connect with someone you supposedly want to learn more about. KNOW them first before you start texting them a bunch of nonsense. That is all.

May 02, 2009

Casual Encounter

I love these random, casual encounters I come up against. Now, my friend says that I'm a"maneater" and a "temptress," who has left a trail of broken men leading from my door, but her opinion is born out of bitterness because she can no longer eat delicious cupcakes and cream sauces and I can. So her opinion is pretty much moot at this point and time and nothing can be further from the truth, but I digress.
I always find myself in the midst of foolishness. Whether it be a strange man wanting to take photos of my shoes to another insisting on removing his prosthetic foot at a trendy wine bar... I am a magnet when it comes to the bizarre.
This Friday was no exception. While leaving a diner, clutching a tasty pepperoni grinder, with peppers, lettuce, tomatoes, black olives, cheese, and mustard (former vegetarianism be damned)- a Mailman stepped back out of the way to let me pass (the aisle is narrow and my hips span across many nations and universes) however, I didn't think I needed that much space... but I thanked him anyway for letting me through.
"That's okay. I wanted to see how you looked anyway."
he said smugly. Both amused and annoyed, I hurried past and across the street back to work. Amazing. I am back on meat (for the past 3 years now) and am also a PIECE of meat to be appraised, judged, poked, and prodded. What clownery! Here's a thought... Instead of sidewalks and aisles, why not just make the landscape one, long catwalk for women to walk down... just to make things more convenient for you all? What a novel idea! (insert side-eye here). Men-beasts... you never cease to amaze this simple woman. The grinder was tasty by the way.

April 26, 2009

Brilliant!

Dear Male (or Female- I'm fair) Populace,
Here's a NOBLE idea. It's a brilliant suggestion in fact. Listen close! ...

Don't date a woman, tell her how much you like her, engage in an adagio dance with her, and then blindside her out of the blue with: "I REALLY like you, and would obviously much rather be with you, but I'm old, desperate and lonely and am about to push my seed in the bush of some dysfunctional, narcissistic bitch who once treated me like dog doo-doo and had a gang bang in a hotel room once with 4 (or so) random men and called and told me about it, knowing it'd make me feel inadequate.

It's a horrible idea, she's not my soul mate, my friends think I'm stupid for being equivalent to toilet paper, I hate her guts, BUT I feel like this is my last shot to have a kid. I don't want to be lonely like the old men I see sitting in Borders Books and Music. I have to at least try. She called me a week ago, and said she'd be willing to bear my rotten seed, even though she agreed to once before when we were dating and then abruptly changed her mind, leaving me depressed and suicidal."
Okay, perhaps not in those exact words, but close enough true to life. Anyway, don't ever tell a woman that mmmkay? Casually dating or not, it sucks and is downright weird. Moreover, don't ask the woman on the receiving end of such nonsense, to agree to resume contact with you, to continue being your friend and "hang out" with you while you attempt to or are considering impregnating another. More importantly, don't ask her if you could still see her if things "don't work out" with getting said other hooker knocked up, and don't guilt trip her for mocking and cursing you afterward by whining...
"I know it's a bad idea, but you aren't interested in having children, and I feel like this is my only shot. I should at least trrrry. I doubt it'll even work out but I gotta try."

See, engaging in this type of behavior is a surefire way to get laughed at, verbally berated, cut, pepper sprayed in the eyes, or shot at. It's just not cool. Procreating with someone who treats you like dirt, you don't even love, and who loves you even less makes you seem desperate and pathetic. Fortunately there are still those of us who have the wherewithal to laugh and politely ask the likes of you to go to hell and to disappear out of their lives STAT. Of all the bizarre dating episodes, this rates right up there. It even has foot guy from this post beat.

The dating world is teeming with extraordinarily dumb fart knockers like this middle aged one (yes, douchery is universal and crosses all ages, economic levels, races, and levels of intellect. The shit is widespreading, like the swine flu.) I'm overwhelmingly amused and can't stop laughing. What clownery! Also, what a rotten reason to have a child. What a selfish and inconsiderate way to bring a child into existence, other than from the love of two people, who aren't in need of anti-depressants. You'll always be lonely. You don't need a kid, you need intense therapy. Batshit, loony, drama-filled women of the world UNITE. You'll always have some el stupido, insecure, manic depressive jackass to love you long time, and return like a lost dog finding its way back home. That is all.

January 03, 2009

M.Y.O.F.B. or Waiting for WALK

I trust that everyone had a productive and safe New Year's Eve and Day. Mine was quite interesting... fun but very interesting. Someone offered to stick his tongue in my ear and suck on my left breast for an extended period of time before switching to the right one. I, being the classy woman that I am, politely declined, but not before laughing hysterically in his face. Hopefully this year wont leave as many battle wounds as 2008 left. I shall start this year off the right wrong way, with a rant that's been brewing in the vault of my angry soul for some time now. It's about certain types of people who should be kicked in the delicates for not minding them and theirs. I call them unofficial and unwelcome crossing guards. Reckless pedestrians who have the huevos mas grandes to get angry at other responsible pedestrians for waiting for the right of way to cross!
I can't count how many times I've had to snap at, give the side-eye and or finger to people who deem it necessary to school me on how to cross the street, because I choose to wait for the effing WALK signal before stomping carelessly across with reckless abandon. Pardon ME for doing what I think is necessary for my own survival and safety! I've had men stand next to me and exclaim, "GO! You can cross now, GOSH!" while I waited for the street signal for me to WALK. "I know how to cross the (insert expletive) street!!!" I've often spat in their direction, prompting them to throw their hands up in exasperation at my refusal to be bullied out into the middle of the road before it's time.
I even had a police officer, buffalo stancing close by tell me to "Go ahead!" once while I waited at the crosswalk downtown. The light was green and traffic was busy and steady. After work rush hour travelers from every direction! "I'm waiting for the WALK signal!!" I yelled back at him, annoyed. "I'm in charge! No one's gonna hit you while I'm standing here!!" he yelled back. I simply sucked my teeth, rolled my eyes and waited for WALK. What could he do? ARREST me for waiting for the WALK signal??? Just yesterday, a gentleman and I were waiting at a particularly busy intersection, also downtown for the signal to WALK. A young mother who carelessly (without looking) strode out into the middle of the street with her young son in tow, nonchalant about just missing getting hit by an impatient turner had the nerve to say to us impatiently, "You can gooooo, the light's reeeed." The man cut his eyes at her and waited. I in my large shades lifted my leather gloved finger and gave her a signal of my very own. She rolled her eyes, but got the hint nevertheless. I could not have made myself any clearer.
What the EFF is it with you people?? Does seeing others wait for the WALK signal really get under your skin that much, that you feel it absolutely crucial to be obnoxious and rude about something that essentially, has no impact on you and the choices you decide to make?? Mind your own EFFING business! If you want to carelessly take off across a busy street sans a care in the world and risk getting creamed, that's your right. I prefer to wait for the WALK signal before deciding to cross. So if watching me waiting for the WALK signal agitates you so, then get over it.
Kisses
Coffey

December 06, 2008

Gene's Coffee

Overheard Friday morning, while I was standing in line at Dunkin Donuts for breakfast and coffee...
Random, middle-aged White woman (standing in front of me, in line, talking to an older white man standing next to her): Gene asked me to get his coffee for him, I forgot to ask him how he takes it.
Random woman yells across at someone standing a few feet away, to my left.
Random woman: I am picking up a coffee for Gene! I forgot to ask him how he takes it! Do you know how he drinks his coffee?!
Man's voice yells: He takes it just like he takes his women! Black! The woman grows silent, and faces forward.
I smirked and frowned at the same time. I refused to turn to see where it came from, however. I felt like me snapping my head to the left was almost expected. I didn't feed into it.

June 26, 2008

Intellectualizms

I'm no prude. My mouth and mind emit and harbor some rather colorful and randy thoughts and commentary. That aside, every now and again I will meet the acquaintance of a phrase or piece of slang that'll make me either giggle with glee, shrug my shoulders indifferently, or roll my eyes, perplexed by its sheer stupidity. Yesterday was no exception, for I recently discovered the term "No Homo." Which has been in use for some time, apparently. Ridiculous and awkward sounding... its meaning is even more nonsensical. Urbandictionary.com basically defines No Homo! as a phrase one shouts out after having inadvertently said something, well, 'gay'. Anonymous contributors offer up a wide array of witty examples (and I'm copying and pasting them verbatim. Grammatic errors and misspellings intact) such as: Hay man, pass the nuts. No homo and I cornered him in my room and nailed him with a board. No homo. Or my personal favorite: 'yo homie, i just spent five hours talking with my man on the phone, no homo'
Apparently, yelling out "NO HOMO" after having made an ambiguously homosexy sounding comment, is supposed to cancel out a heterosexual man's femme side or make him seem even more virile. How butch. Non? I opine that it's just another way for some chauvinist, insecure fuckknob- (conflicted over his own sexuality)- to unnecessarily assert his manhood, because he may perhaps (I'm just speculating) harbor some deep, dark, sexy fantasies involving Leather Bear Daddies, lithe... sinewy Twinks, and silicone butt plugs.
What better way for a man to feel like a MAN than to indulge in a daily dose of homophobia? It's simply not enough to hoot and holler in a strip club or pour Cristal and money all over a hooker, for that's just a whetting of the MAN'S appetite for destruction. I'd be willing to wager that this term is born out of the RAP (notice I said RAP and not Hip Hop) culture of posturing, dick swinging, and champagne dreams and delusions of making it rain on some ho's. Just saying... NO HOMO!

May 09, 2008

This Little Bird's Coming Out of It's Nest

Dear What'syourname,

I thought it over for the briefest of moments... a very brief moment. As I sit here, even now, munching on Cherry Berry Nut Mix, interrupting my red wine thoughts to ponder your proposition... the answer is fat chance. I don't think so. Absolument pas! Nunca! Aller merde vous! Basically the totality of my final answer is the equivalent to No. But thank you anyway... which is an unequivocal and emphatic, Not in this lifetime... ever again. Have a great weekend though... sans moi.

xoxo Coffey

April 08, 2008

In Which Coffey Learns

During these stuffy sinused, work filled and busy days, I've finally had the opportunity to reflect on conversations heard whle out and circumstances I've run across. I've been taken to school, if you will. Inadvertent lessons taught to moi. As my ears pop and my nasal passages clear up, I'm suddenly awash in a brilliant sea of clarity. I've realized, in this current cult of personality, that people will simply continue to be themselves in all their loud, stank, uncouth glory. Bad, ugly, unhygenic, and overwhelmingly raunch. This much I know is true. I realize that people have no qualms about boarding the bus, early in the AM, taking their seat, and then breathing heavily... their breath reeking of jungle rot or hot garbage on a particularly humid day. I can sit here and ask the universe whether it's too much to ask or wish for certain people to floss, brush or scrape their tongue, gargle and take it to the back, perhaps pop a mint before venturing out into the world... But why bother? The answer is yes, it is too much to ask. And so I suffer silently. Fate decreed that this is the cross I must bear sans questions. I also learned while en route to the mall (on the bus of course)- this past Saturday, that a young Hispanic lass I'll call Romeo (all of maybe 16 years old) was headed in my direction to meet Lissette. Lissette, apparently, was going to meet Romeo at the mall, so that he could "fuck her." ... "Yeah," proclaims Romeo to his buddy, "Lissette's gonna meet me there so I can fuck her." To which his friend replied with a spitty chuckle/chortle combo. Ahhh, I learn something new every single day. Is this what young people do now? Do they have trysts at the mall?? Whatever happened to sitting in the dark, at the back of the theater? Or going to the park after dusk? Folks our future depends on these very same young people. In which case, I'd rather not be cryogenically frozen. I'll just go head and rot. I also learned that a mall is NOT the place to be on a Saturday afternoon, with a sinus infection. It was hot, it was extremely crowded, and I couldn't concentrate for I found myself wondering about Romeo and Lissette. I didn't want to run into them in some sort of compromising position. Speaking of young people, I also learned that in their quest for fame, they like to videotape themselves beating the living daylights out of some poor unsuspecting victim, in hopes of uploading it on YouTube. Yup, don't freeze me, just burn me and throw my ashes in the nearest ocean. Life's little lessons can be a bit overwhelming when swallowed whole sometimes. Now pardon me while I go wait for my food to digest ...

March 12, 2008

Par for The Course

Dear Elliot "Mr. Clean" Spitzer or Client 9,

The fact that you, as Attorney General of New York State, once laid down the law on a call-girl ring, locked up numerous people for corruption, money laundering and prostitution, and came down HARD on Wall Street executives is commendable. In any event, and without further ado, the call-girl ring leaders you busted and the Wall Street execs you chastised asked me to deliver a message ... BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. That's it.

P.S. the fact that you hired a high priced hooker and shamed your family are not what has people perplexed and shaking their heads with amusement. But your sense of entitlement, your arrogance, your perceived invincibility, your sheer daftness, and your hypocrisy are what reek of piss. I can't say I'm surprised though. Regardless of what team a politician plays for, essentially, they're all the same; Untrustworthy, sanctimonious, hypocritical, ironic, and inconsistent in their behavior. THESE are the reasons why people in NY and the entire Northeast think you're a douche of massive proportions. So big in fact, Summer's Eve should do a study on your stupidity. That's it.