Black people, i love you but...

So lets face it, black people are loud. Everywhere they go they bring their loudness with them. They are the antithesis to soft-spokenness. Never will you catch anybody saying to a black person, "exuse me, what was that again? I didn't catch ya". No black person will ever need to repeat himself. Now this isn't necessarily a bad thing, unless they're chillin outside of starbucks, being loud when a bunch of white people are trying to study - including me. And I swear, they were being loud just to spite us. Like, awww shit look at all these crackas trying to learn and solidify their future, lets bust some shitty flows and distract them. So this group of black dudes are sitting behind me, busting out the rap equivalent of bad teenage poetry at the listening expense of us crackers. One of them was really struggling with his "prolific" flows, so in a last minute attempt to save face, he busted out with this: "Yo yo, i hit that switch, I FUCKED YO BITCH". He said it loud enough for the whole area to hear him. He them comes up to me to ask for a cigarette, but here's the twist. He was a crackah. I had my back turned to their table the entire time, so i just assumed they were all black people. But no, the loudest one of them all was a crackah. Has nature suddenly gone awry?

It makes sense though. If you're white, you're gonna have to do some crazy ass shit to gain the respect of black people. He had it down in the clothes department. He was postin up with an XL large jersey draped down to his knees, with an extra baggy pair of jeans peeking out from underneath, overlapping his Err Force Ones. Now all he had to do, was be utterly laquacious in public and keep it gangstah. Which he was doing, or at least attempting to do. But his presence among his African American peers brought up an interesting philosphical question in my mind. What is better: being the white-boy odd man out, constantly struggling to fit in and earn the respect of black people whom he admired? Or, being the cool white-boy with with g'd up flavah, leading a pack of wiggered out crackers and earning the respect of his "lesser-thans"? In the former situation, the respect from black people is more meaningful, but at least in the latter, you're a leader. Shit i dunno what i'd do. I'm kind of content in my crackerness. OKAY fuck, you got me, i'm not a cracker. But for the sake of simplicity just pop me in the oven and call me a saltine because i'm white compared to black... If that makes any fucking sense.

So for the record, i'm not racist. I judge people on their actions and not their color. Yes yes, I know, the oppresive foot of the white man has forced black people to develop a sub-culture marked by a hedonistic glorification of the spoils and overexcessive pride. And with all that entails their obnoxious behavior in public. Now i can understand not being able to make rent because that shiny black escallade drained the bank account, but shit. Tone it down in public. The entire world doesn't need to hear you talk about beatin dem bitches guts and laying the pipe on that breezy white slut with jungle fever and gettin dome on the back of the bus. Sound-waves are a beautiful thing. They travel. Let me do my cracker tasks in peace. At least i have one thing in common with black people. I too, have a big cock. I kid I kid!