Bootleg

by Damon Wayans; David Asbery

  Mr. Louima, being from Haiti, probably thought he had some special privileges here, like freedom of speech. I can just picture him in the backseat of the police car yelling at the cops:

  Louima: Ya can’t treat me like this. I’m not black, I’m Haitian!

  Cop: Hey, look, nigger, just shut your fucking pie hole back there!

  Louima: Don’t talk to me like that, I’m not black, I’m Haitian! Take me down to my embassy! I got rights!

  Cop: The only rights you are going to have is this right hand going right across your face! You shut your trap! You want to talk shit to me, pal? You want to be a shit talker? Huh? I’ll shove … a … a fucking… uh … plunger up your ass!

  Louima: I dare you. I’ll report you so fast it’ll make your head spin! I’m not black, I’m Haitian!

  Cop: (to his partner) Tommy, pull over to that hardware store right here!

  They shoved that plunger deep in his ass, then stuck him to the wall.

  Louima: For God’s sake, get me down from here! I’m not black, I’m Haitian!

  I want to know what made these cops think they could get away with this crime? Did they think they could just falsify the report and it would go unnoticed?

  Cop: Ah, the suspect dhere tried to escape true the bathroom window. And after repeatedly falling on a plunger twenty-six times, we were finally able to apprehend him. P.S. He’s not black, he’s Haitian.

  Racism? What Racism?

  Brothers can’t afford to get too comfortable in show business ‘cause that’s when you become their pawn. They use your ass. Any time white people want to show how wonderful the world has become, they go get that rich nigger and put his ass on TV to represent all black people.

  Then they ask questions like, “Mr. Wilson, now that you’ve made thirteen million dollars on your last film—not that we’re counting—let me ask you a question. I’m gonna throw it out there and you just respond any way you want—Is there racism in America?”

  Now he’s sitting there on national TV thinking about that paycheck and this is what comes out of his mouth, “No, sir, an ifin there is, I ain’t seen nun.”

  White Sale

  It amazes me that we can send men to the moon, make cell phones that are smaller than the human hand, yet we can’t stop racism. I’ve come to the conclusion that it has to be about money. Hate generates big business. I believe the Ku Klux Klan, for instance, is just an excuse to sell sheets.

  Klan Salesman: Hey, Jethro, you still hate that nigger ‘cause he took your job?

  Jethro: Hell, yeah.

  Klan Salesman: Shit, you can’t go hatin’ no nigger in a pair of jeans. He’s liable to see you hatin’ him and kick your ignorant white ass. What you need is a disguise. You know what them niggers are scared of? Ghosts. Now, I got some sheets here that’ll make you look like Casper. That’s right, just $19.95 and I’ll throw in a pillowcase for free.

  Jethro puts the sheet on. He’s happy.

  Jethro: This is great! I’m gonna go scare me some niggers.

  Klan Salesman: Just hold on a minute, there, boy. Where are you runnin’ off to? You can’t go hate no nigger with just a sheet on. He’s liable to pull that sheet off your head and see you hatin’ him and kick your ignorant white ass. What you need is a gun.

  Jethro: Really?

  Klan Salesman: Hell, yeah, boy. Now, I got me one of these here shotguns that sprays buckshot so far you can get the nigger and any of his nigger friends that’s liable to take the gun away from you and kick your ignorant white ass.

  Jethro: How much is this here weaponry?

  Klan Salesman: For you? Only $49.95. Okay, now where you gonna find a nigger at?

  Jethro: I don’t know. Where do I find ‘em? It’s getting dark.

  Klan Salesman: See, I knew you wasn’t as dumb as you look. Now, what you need is a dog, boy. Not just any dog, you need a nigga-hunter. Now, this here dog I gots is kin to the very dog that caught Kunta Kinte. He’s just $29.95 and I’m fixing to throw in this here Ku Klux Klan secret membership patch which makes you o-fficial.

  Jethro: Thanks. I’ll take him.

  Klan Salesman: My pleasure. Y’all come back now, ya hear? And tell some of yo ignorant white friends.

  White Boys

  What is this obsession that white guys have with tits? They can be so creative when it comes to describing them.

  White Boy: Hey, man check out those cones, man. You see those babies? They’re titanic. No, they’re bodacious, dude. They’re like headlights, or door knobs, man. No, they’re cow tits, twin towers, hooters, cantaloupes, one-eyed melons, bowling balls. Half moons, Neanderthals, softballs.

  Black Guy: Yeah, she ain’t got no ass, though. That’s an ironing board. It’s like a crack in a wall.

  Another thing that makes me laugh about white guys is when they get upset. They can be so verbally aggressive, it’s scary.

  White Boy: That fucking guy over there pissed me off, man. I’m gonna stick my finger up his fucking nose and pull his goddamn head off his shoulders, then shove my cock down his fucking neck, that jerk-off, man.

  Black Guy: Why don’t you just fight him?

  White Boy: Naw, man, I’m not into violence, dude.

  Black Leadership

  I wonder who the next real black leader is going to be. It seems that nobody wants to step up to the plate and try to fill the void. I don’t think there is a real leader out there who would be willing to risk his life for the complacent black people who live in this country. I guess it’s because part of the job description is you must be willing to get shot in the head to be a good leader. I don’t blame them for being afraid. Any time someone starts talking pro black they’re liable to get shot. Here are three speeches given by the next three black leaders.

  October 3,1999

  Announcer: Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to introduce to you a man who will lead us into the twenty-first century. He’s a graduate from Harvard and received his doctorate from Columbia. He has been fighting for black people all of his life and now he’s here to speak to us. Give a round of applause for the one and only Dr. … Troy… Watson, (long applause with a standing ovation)

  Troy: Good evening, my beautiful black brothas and sistas … POW!

  November 3,1999

  Announcer: Ladies and gentlemen, we have here today the late Dr. Troy Watson’s younger brother, the Reverend Kevin Watson.

  Kevin: Thank you. You know before my brother was shot down he said that black people need to unite…. POW!

  December 3,1999

  Announcer: Ladies and gentlemen, the second cousin of Kevin and Troy Watson, Cecil Watson.

  Cecil: Hello.

  POW, POW, POWl

  So, now, all we have are the sell-outs. Their speeches are very accommodating.

  Sell-out: Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I’m here tonight to talk about racial harmony. Not of just black people but I’m talking total integration. One race, the human race. Black people need to know white people are people first, not the animals that they’ve been made out to be. They’re just like us, except they got a lot more than we do. And that’s okay ‘cause we should be happy with the meal that’s put on our plate. We have a lot of programs designed to ease our burdens that we don’t fully take advantage of, like welfare, WIC, and the newly instituted “nigga don’t work program.” And if black people want more than that then they need to come together …

  POW!

  Al, Jesse, and Farrakhan

  If you take a good hard look at black leaders today, there’s not much out there. Things, in fact, look pretty bleak. Take Al Sharpton, for instance.

  I must have been asleep the day they elected Al Sharpton as the black representative. He is the only leader in history to show up to a rally wearing a tight red velour sweatsuit. The suit was so tight that you could see his balls imprinted on the sides of his legs. It looked like he was hiding olives. I say, if you’re gonna be the representative have a bigger set of balls than that.


  And what’s up with the brother’s hair? It looks like he swallowed James Brown. One time he showed up to a rally with a roller in his hair. It wouldn’t have been so bad if he was wearing a whole set of rollers ‘cause we as black people can understand this, but no, not Al. He shows up with one big roller in the front of his head, looking like he’s Wilma Flintstone. I’m not sure Al is what Martin Luther King, Jr., had in mind when he was imagining the future of black leadership.

  Then there’s Jesse Jackson. I just have one question for him: Why is he at every sporting event that ever takes place? I just saw him at the Tyson fight. That’s strange to me. You never saw the old civil rights leaders at basketball games, right? You never saw Martin Luther King at a Muhammad Ali fight yelling, “Kick his ass, kick his ass. By God Almighty, kick his ass!”

  No, Martin had things to do. Marches to lead, rallies and speeches to give. He had an agenda. Jesse used to. But all that rhyming in his speeches diluted his cause. The last speech I saw Jesse give had everyone scratching their heads.

  Jesse: It is a fact that we are under attack by people that stab us in the back simply because we are black. Now I must go pack, I will be back. Going to Iraq to meet up with Shaq and have a Big Mac attack. They’ll be nick nack, no paddy wack. Or give a dog a bone like Macaulay Culkin who’s home alone. Pick up his phone there’s no dial tone.

  But I am somebody who rocks the party. I am somebody who rocks the body-body.

  Finally there’s Minister Farrakhan, who to me is a very interesting black leader. I can’t help but laugh when he speaks because he scares the shit out of white folks. He ain’t trying to make friends in the white community. White people are scared of Farrakhan because he’s such a passionate speaker who can get black folks riled up. His speeches are so powerful he can make black people stop celebrating Christmas.

  Farrakhan: Christmas is the Devil’s holiday. It started back in slavery where the white slave master would put on a red sheet and climb down the slave quarters’ chimney. And just like the devil he was, he wouldn’t get burnt by the fire. That’s why they call him Santa because you take the N in Santa and put it at the end of Santa and you’ve got Satan Claus. Then he’d grab that slave out of the bed ‘cause he knew when he was sleeping, and he knew when he was awake. He knew ‘cause he owned him, for goodness sakes. Then, he’d castrate that slave and start singing “Jingle Bells.” And when the slave’s woman would protest, she’d get down on her knees and beg, “Please, Massa, don’t take him. Let my man go.” And the massa would look down at her with those beady blue eyes of his and say, “HO, HO, HO, go back to bed before we hang your black ass, too.”

  Africans v. Americans

  I can tell you this, the next black leader is not going to be an African native. This may be hard to believe, but I’ve discovered that Africans don’t respect black Americans. I was at a party and I met this African guy. I thought, “Cool. He’s black, I’m black. He’s from the mother country. There can be a real connection here.” He wouldn’t have any of that, though.

  He said to me, “Why do you call yourself black? That means nothing. You are not black, you are a man, you are an American. You were born here, you are not African American. You are American, and that’s it, asshole.

  “I am African. My name is Kwanza. I’m from the jungle, baby, and I killed a lion when I was eighteen years old, beating him to death with my dick. That’s a man! You are here in America kissing up to the white man. You are a slave. All you blacks here in America want to do is play basketball and sing the rap songs. You think that’s the only way out of the ghetto? Just get a job, sucka. Do something that is going to make a difference. Me, I’ve been in the country two years, I’m already the manager of a delicatessen.

  “I don’t understand black faggots either. You kiss the white ass all day and then you go and suck his dick at night. What’s wrong with you? Where I come from we don’t have faggots, baby. We test every man. We take them out to the jungle and fuck them in the ass. If they like it, then we know and we kill them.”

  The Good Reverend

  And I’m not sure you can find the right kind of leadership in church either. Thanks to preachers, a lot of people have given up on religion completely. Today, going to church is like going to Vegas. You’ll leave thinking, “Man, I lost $75.00 up in this motherfucka.”

  Preachers give religion a bad name. But that’s the people’s fault. All they want is to go to church, sing a song, give five dollars and clear their consciences. You can’t do that because that’s when the preachers start taking advantage. He’ll have you believing that the only way to righteousness is by paying for it. And there’s nobody better at convincing people of that than the Honorable Reverend Edward Cash. His sermon goes something like this:

  “Good Evening. Welcome to the Hour of Power. This is TV prayer and my name is the Reverend Ed Cash—dollar bills, y’all. I’d like to begin this evening’s sermon with a few announcements.

  “Last week someone put a food stamp in the basket. Now, I know I said give what you can. Yes, please give what you can. But y’all keep the food stamps. Go buy the baby some milk with that. ‘Cause, see the Lord can’t use no coupons. No, sir. They don’t give out vouchers up in heaven. And we must keep in mind that this is the Lord’s account. That’s right, and the Lord got bills to pay, yes indeed. Ya wake up tomorrow there won’t be no sun in the sky. No, sir. The Electric Man came and turned that off. Then who looks bad? The Lord looks bad. ‘Cause He’s keeping you in darkness. Can’t get that light. Can I get an Amen? That’s right!

  “Now, there seems to be jealousy and envy in the congregation. And it’s pointed at me. Sister Shepherd came up to me and said, ‘Reverend Cash, you can’t preach the Word because you drive a Rolls Royce.’ She’s looking in my backyard, ya see. She got her nose all up in my business. And I had to tell her, ‘The Lord don’t like ugly and you’re fat and ugly so I rebuke you! You don’t belong in church. You belong in Jenny Craig!’

  “Yes, I drive a Rolls Royce. Yes, I do. But it’s not my car. It’s the Lord’s car. I’m just His chauffeur. The Lord’s in the backseat. I gotta take him around to where his spirit needs to be. Now, as I look out here at your faces, I see that some of you don’t believe that I have the spirit. No, sir. You are non-believers. So I must prove to you that I have the spirit every week. Now some of you say, ‘Well, how?’ By speaking in tongues. A-hem …

  “Al a weta. Al a weta. Jhon today tela vo. So ma loma tina. So mo loma tina. Ding Dong Ding. Ding Dong Ding. Donde esta y stades Bien gracias y tu Como esta les bibliotecqua.

  “… And I’m back. Sometimes the spirit just hits me and that’s to let you know I’m full of it.

  “Can I get an Amen?”

  Nigga Business

  When you’re black and successful there are two types of black businessmen you have to deal with. There is a regular black businessman, that can meet with you, iron out an agreement, and stick by it. Most likely after everything is said and done, everyone will make money and all is well. Then, there’s the nigga business. That’s where you try to do a favor for someone and they try to make an ass out of you, treating you like they’re doing you the favor. It goes something like this:

  1: I call you and leave your mother a message saying I need a driver, and I want to meet you at 4:00 to talk about the particulars. You don’t show up or call for a week because you had to get some pussy.

  2: I hire you as a chauffeur anyway because you say you’re my cousin. The first thing that comes out of your mouth is “Why didn’t I get the six hundred like Puffy Combs got?” And then in the same breath you ask me if can you borrow my car so you can go and get more pussy.

  3: Come Tuesday, you want me to pay you for the week and lie to unemployment and tell them you don’t really work for me, so that way you can collect two checks a week because I’m making money, and you feel you should make money, too, so that you can get even more pussy.

  4: Then I ask you to wash my car, and you get
mad because you feel you shouldn’t have to wash no damn car, especially since I ain’t going to let you drive it so you can go get any parts of pussy.

  5: I ask you to take me to a club to hear some music, and you tell me the club I want to go to ain’t got no bitches in it. At least not the type you like. You want to take me someplace where we can get all the pussy.

  No more nigga businessmen for me, thank you.

  One-Night Stand

  Last time I was in New York I stayed at a really nice hotel. One night I got back in late, walked through the lobby, and got on the elevator. I pushed my floor and stepped back, and this nicely dressed white woman got on, too. She pressed a button, then looked back over her shoulder in my direction and her eyes went wide. Just as the doors were about to close, the woman jumped out of the elevator. This scared the shit out of me, ‘cause I thought there was an ax murderer in there or something. So I jumped off right behind her. But she thought I was stalking her, so she took off screaming through the lobby, which scared me even more, so I started running and screaming, too.

  Handi-Man to the Rescue