This past weekend a friend of mine blessed me with tickets to Chris Rock’s Total Blackout Tour. (I have some amazing people in my life!) It was a pretty dope show, although I’m probably a little biased because Chris Rock is one of my favorite comedians. Jeff Ross roasted a bunch of people — two of which looked like a brother & sister couple from Children Of The Corn — Yvonne Orji’s jokes were hittin’ (wit her ol’ fine, Nigerian self), and Rock was his vintage, story-telling best.
One of my favorite parts (and there were many because his set was about 2 hours long) was when Rock talked about raising his children and how he ensures his daughters know that when they leave the house no one outside their humble abode gives a fuck about them. (He also stated that the level of fucks given by people in the house may be in question at times.) It’s a notion worth instilling, especially given the constant disregard society shows for Black and Brown lives. But racial context aside, it’s a sentiment that EVERYONE needs to be reminded of from time to time.
Like the middle-aged, white guy who felt compelled to tell me how the retailer I work for used to carry “really cool shit” like “leather jackets” and “thick ties” and other fashion trends that died in the late 1980s. And how “it’s a real shame” that the company I work for has begun catering to “Millennials” and their obscenely “tight clothes.” And how selling stuff crafted outside the US is Un-America. And how society needs to stop being so sensitive and politically correct. And how white people are under attack for exercising free speech, and other dumb-ass, privileged shit a middle-aged white man might say to a (not-that-young) black man.
It’s commentary that I could’ve done without, mainly because it wasn’t useful in helping me locate the XL polo shirt he requested. Also, I genuinely didn’t give a fuck. I perpetually don’t give a fuck. Because despite whatever disclaimers people use to preface their offensive bullshit, I already know it’s just their way of expressing just how much they don’t care about everyone who isn’t just like them.
Whether it’s celebrities like Tyrese who stay stuffing their foot in their mouths about what’s acceptable for women in terms of dress, sexuality, and beauty choices. Or overzealous parents like LaVar Ball who feel the need to call out folks’ deceased mothers for not being present in their child’s life. Or journalists, who feel it’s necessary to tell us that a Japanese racer winning the Indianapolis 500 on Memorial Day weekend hurt their fucking feelings. (Because, Murica, y’all!) People can’t wait to tell you the many ways their limited viewpoint is just so right. Hell, I got cousins and ‘nem who stay tryna Chefboyardee some bullshit under the thin veil of “truth” or “transparency”. STOP IT! I’m not here for it.
I don’t care that everyone is entitled to their uninformed (or misinformed) opinions. I’m not obliged to listen. (Unless I’m at work because a nigga got bills and child support to pay.) Engaging with nonsense won’t help either of us. You’re not going change your opinion. And I’m not going to be suddenly enlightened by what you’re telling me. The world would be a better place if some of you spare us your false prophesies. And your dumb ass advice. And your judgmental thoughts. And your short-sided ideals. We want that shit about as much as 45 wants to be President right now. Not. At. All.
Just live your life, b. And if one day the zombie apocalypse finally comes and somehow the universe reveals your opinion to be the most supreme and righteous in all the land, then good for you. But at that point, it won’t matter. Because dead motherfuckers will be trying to eat you. You’d be better served beefing up your cardio and stocking your shelves with Bush’s Baked Beans than giving us your thoughts. Your breaths are limited. Save them for yourself.