Dedicated to Those with Bruised Egos

It’s hard for me to open my mouth these days; everyone is so deep in their feelings that even the most wide-sweeping statements I make touch a nerve or two. I drop my two cents here and this one’s offended, I chime in about this and that one is feeling some kind of way, so I guess having my say is saying too much these days.
F that!

This great country in which we live was born out of dissenting opinions, the right to free speech and telling it like it T-I-is on general principle. In other words, a damn has never been given about how you feel. That is, until the term “politically correct” was hatched and all of sudden what and how people said things were scrutinized all the way down to the italics in print media. Overnight fat people became obese and crazy was replaced by a bible of disorders.
However, tacky, trifling, ignant and Black like how your cousin’s act should never be displaced from our lexicon, because they are displayed at the highest level on a daily basis. Yet, when I call a spade a spade, I’m told it’s a club. For instance, if I point out that a majority of the folks that went to see the new Twilight movie at midnight last week, didn’t make it to the polls in a 12-hour period to vote, I’m attacking a new institution and not protecting one that allows the poorly oiled machine to function.

Yeah, then I call social networking an indictment on the public school system and folks don’t understand what I’m talking about. Then they turn around with the most grammatically F’d up posts and I’m supposed to ignore the fact they had the same English teachers as I? You must be out your damn mind! Then I’m the a**hole because I refuse to read the inboxed chapter of your autobiography because I can’t get through the first two sentences. Please understand, writing is far from a hustle, it takes passion and years of practice to improve the skills that began on those pages with the huge spaces to craft your first sentences. All of these so-called “authors” kill me with their fabricated hood drama and actual mental deficiencies, but I’m not supposed to say that.

This is dedicated to Niggas with bruised egos! Yeah, this goes out to those with delusions of grandeur that border on megalomania, but at the first breath of constructive criticism take it to the streets. This goes out to me too; because none of yall can’t tell me nothin’! I’m good at this and many other things and have no problem tell you just that.

And women that live Reality TV segments then wonder why men continue to play them like Modern Warfare 3 or worry about the wrong things, like: Nene Leakes, haters and celebrating elementary school achievements. I guess if you stumbled through 3rd grade, it is cause for celebration that your child got perfect attendance. Oh, I’m not supposed to say that, we’re pro-education these days. If that is true, why aren’t you setting a better example and picking up a book or three to read with or in front of your child that may actually help increase their aptitude and expand their worldview?

Then again, I don’t have children, so I can’t tell you how to raise yours. I also can’t tell you that if you can’t feed your baby, then don’t have a baby, but Planned Parenthood didn’t get the message across. Hold that thought…

Maybe I should pipe down and stop expecting people to be concerned with the world around them and allow them to live in the world they know? Maybe I should be OK with college-aged young men and women being clueless about the #occupy movements and their mothers too, yet listen attentively to their delusions and rants about fiscal matters. That’s what I’m gonna do, I’m gonna ignore all of which I abhor and sip my pink lemonade while the world goes one way and you stand still wondering where life went.

But that wouldn’t be me, it’s wouldn’t be right, it wouldn’t be Teef and quite frankly, I’d be bored! So if you’re a little soft in the drawls or slow in the medulla oblongata, you may want to keep on truckin’ with Eddie Kendricks, because this right here, ain’t for you!

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