Yeah, it took me three months to write another blog. I had a sea of ideas to write about but would dump them mid way through writing. It's the flaw of a writer/blogger.
Recently, I've had friends propose the idea of either getting a place together or moving in with them to help pay for bills. I do like the idea of having a place with someone I'm on familial terms with that isn't actually family but the conversation normally ends with my usual statement of "I'll think about it".
Am I afraid to leave my current living arrangements, I'm staying with family, because of the hassle of not having to pay as many bills as I would if I moved out on my own? Well, I have lived on my own before during my tenure at Wright State. Granted, it was student apartments so I wasn't directly paying for the places I stayed (this will come back to bite me on the ass in student loan payments) but I must admit, it felt great to have a place of my own, being able to have friends over whenever I wanted.
To be honest, I did have an experience where I moved in with a sorta friend and it went horribly wrong. Granted, I couldn't help him financially for a month but that did not call for being threatened with having my things thrown out and an ass kicking. When things were finally squared away between us, the animosity between he and his significant other became a factor. During these times, I would literally lock myself in my room while the two argued over the smallest thing. It was during these times that I am extremely grateful for the friends I made over twitter because I just felt isolated and alone and at time and I spoke to them to keep my spirits up. As weeks went by, me and my roommate mostly avoided each other, only coming out to grab food. About maybe a month and a half went by with mostly quiet until my roommate dropped a bomb on me one weekend.
My roommate let me know that due to being on the verge of a nervous breakdown, he was moving back home with his family, so I had to move out as well, being that I couldn't afford the place by myself. Now this would've been okay if I was given maybe a month or two to find a new place but I was given two weeks instead. Yeah, now this made me want to have a nervous breakdown. I scrambled HARD to find a new place, all while moving smaller stuff of mine back to my mother's. As I spent those to weeks looking for a new place, I ended up missing a lot of class time I practically flunked my Spanish class, which I liked. As crunch time continued, my roomie kept asking if I had found a way to get my stuff out, which I hadn't and this began his phrase of "I'm not trying to be an asshole, but...". Nothing irked me more than when he said that and he kept saying it to me at a time of extreme distress. After all, he had his family to help him move, I didn't.
When the final week came, I had to beg friends to help me gather some things and help me take them to my mothers in the middle of a Friday night, which scared the shit out of her. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to get everything out, delaying my roommates move by a week, which they surely let me know of. The very last night, I had to beg a friend who I hadn't spoken with in ages to come help me. As we gathered the last of my things out of the apartment, I turned to my roommate and the following; "That was a fun experience, now let us never, ever do that again.". He just looked at me puzzled and said "what's that supposed to mean?". I said, "EXACTLY!" and walked out the door.
So, this my fear of moving in with a friend, that various events will take place that will drive us apart like it did between me and my former roommate. Plus, I guess I'm a very private person and I like to mutter to myself a lot when I'm alone so I dunno if that would freak anyone out. But then again, any of my friends would be make better roommates than that neurotic drip so who knows...
If you're ever in the Cleveland area and you run into a bespectacled man or a woman who like using the phrase;
Guy: "I'm not trying to be an asshole but..."
Woman: "I'm not trying to be a bitch, I'm not trying to be a cunt but..."
Get the hell away from them AS FAST AS YOU CAN!!
Sunday, November 19, 2017
Thursday, August 10, 2017
Scary lady with a gun
I originally started on this blog entry in late June and doubted that I wanted to finish it. The subject has long passed and to be honest, Dana Loesch is just scary. I see the intensity in her eyes that Tomi Lahren wishes she could produce. She fully believes that without the NRA (National Rifle Association), the world will fall into complete chaos.
In her ad for the NRA, which honestly felt like a LOT of finger pointing,Tomi Dana lists off a number of problems of the United States. From people calling the president racist and sexist, organizations "masquerading" as peaceful actually being violent to celebs having the nerve to voice their opinions on politics. We all know celebrities shouldn't have political opinions, unless they're Scott Baio. She defends her opinion by saying that the NRA will be there, like G.I. Joe, to challenge anyone's opinion with the etiquette of a drunken frat boy screaming "Come at me, Brah!".
Funny how neither she or anyone else of the NRA has even breathed a word about Philando Castile, a registered gun owner who was shot in front of his girlfriend by law enforcement when he was reaching to give the police his license. Oh, yeah, and his young daughter was there to witness this. Yet, no words from Dana, the NRA or any other conservative party? How odd, I wonder why...
Needless to say that the ad did not sit well with some people as the commercial was lambasted for how it advertised current social problems. Some still agreed with the ad and when the Dana and her commercial became the ire of a trio of women from the nation of Islam, guess who Dana set her sights on.
Not only did she go after this trio of women, she pounced on them like Sabertooth on Wolverine. She told the women if they felt that her ad was racist, then debate her about it, face to face. Now if she would've stopped there, everything would've been fine but we live in a day and age where when it comes to politics, mouths spout off like a rocket and the sky's the limit. Dana goes on to say that how is it fair for these women to say that her ad was fear mongering when these women are part of the nation of Islam, whose leader, Louis Farrakhan has preached separatism and extremism. Now, I will admit, Farrakhan has said some crazy shit, the craziest thing said was that hitler was not a bad guy, but these women were not speaking on behalf of Farrakhan, they were speaking for themselves.To throw salt on the wound, Dani berates the women, letting them know that it would fine to debate her if the women can get permission from "Daddy Farrakhan". Jesus Christ!
Again, I don't condone a lot of things Farrakhan has said but he didn't need to be brought into this and to do say that these women can't live, let alone say anything without his permission is insulting. Let the women say that Dana couldn't debate them without "daddy NRA", pretty sure not only would Dana and the NRA would've shit a brick but so would a lot of right wingers. God knows how far they would've taken things.
I'm not saying Dana Loesch or the NRA aren't wrong for speaking their minds. They are in the U.S., which thrives on freedom of speech. However, to spread chaos and panic through words just so people will buy more guns is just disgusting. Instead of seeing those sides that oppose the NRA and the president as the enemies, see where they're coming from. See why Black Lives Matter was formed and why trump's action spark these action. But of course, the same could be said from the other side. Seeing things from the other side...yeah, that'll happen.
Maybe I'm being overly sensitive...here, judge for yourself; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XtGOQFf9VCE
In her ad for the NRA, which honestly felt like a LOT of finger pointing,
Funny how neither she or anyone else of the NRA has even breathed a word about Philando Castile, a registered gun owner who was shot in front of his girlfriend by law enforcement when he was reaching to give the police his license. Oh, yeah, and his young daughter was there to witness this. Yet, no words from Dana, the NRA or any other conservative party? How odd, I wonder why...
Needless to say that the ad did not sit well with some people as the commercial was lambasted for how it advertised current social problems. Some still agreed with the ad and when the Dana and her commercial became the ire of a trio of women from the nation of Islam, guess who Dana set her sights on.
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| Possibly what run of the mill debate looks like for Dana... |
I'm not saying Dana Loesch or the NRA aren't wrong for speaking their minds. They are in the U.S., which thrives on freedom of speech. However, to spread chaos and panic through words just so people will buy more guns is just disgusting. Instead of seeing those sides that oppose the NRA and the president as the enemies, see where they're coming from. See why Black Lives Matter was formed and why trump's action spark these action. But of course, the same could be said from the other side. Seeing things from the other side...yeah, that'll happen.
Maybe I'm being overly sensitive...here, judge for yourself; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XtGOQFf9VCE
Sunday, June 11, 2017
F**k Poetry...
For those of you, my normal readers, who were disgusted by my previous blog entry about racism and pornography, I hope this blog entry doesn't gross you as much.
If you read my blog (I'm beginning to realize I start a lot of my blogs with those words), you assume I like to write. For the most part, I do. News articles, interviews, fiction, non-fiction, comedy, movie reviews and even screen plays if I were given a chance. I used to write poetry, even had a poem published in a magazine about 12 years ago. It was something I enjoyed because it helped me express feelings I felt but was never sure how to say it.
But now, I LOATHE everything about poetry and I don't know where to place the blame.It's a toss up between the teacher of the advanced poetry writing class I took or possibly myself for being so thin skinned. Since this is my blog, I'm going to go with the former.
During my time at WSU, I had taken every writing class known to man and excelled at almost all. I decided to push myself, and in the senior year that I never finished, I took advanced poetry writing, thinking it would be a breeze. Work wise, it kind of was but emotionally, it was draining. I had a teacher so Goddamn dry, toast would fear him. I swear, the way he talked just put me to sleep most of the time. He would sometimes assign us subjects that were the most uninteresting subjects to write poetry about. I did not care about these poems but after I'm going to say a month of uninspiring poetry, the teacher, I guess, noticed how flat everyone's work was and let us write about whatever we wanted. This was exciting news, even if the teacher said he would assign us subjects to write about from time to time.
As I wrote more personal poems, I became frustrated because all of my work was met with a "it's good but..." while it felt like everyone else's work felt like it was being praised up and down. I wrote a particular poem about downtown Dayton and not only did was it met with a "it's good but..." but a douche in the class had the never to say "if no one cares about the downtown Dayton, no real point in writing a poem about it". Now most people I know would say, the SDS looks like he doesn't have a single violent bone in his body. Well that day, I was about to take the that violent bone in my body and stab this douche with it. Yes, folks, I almost got into a fight in the middle of a poetry class. Took two other classmates and the teacher to hold me back. Okay, maybe it was more of a big shouting match but it felt like I was gonna stab him. Instead, I decided that my next poem would be about the douchebag.
The day after I turned in the poem, as I was walking into the classroom, the teacher walked up to me and ask if I could step out of the class room for a moment. He asked if I was okay and I asked him why he asked and he said that he read my poem and was concerned that I would take action against the douche. I assured him that nothing would happen and proceeded to sit in the most awkward class sessions in all time. For everyone's concern, the poem was not threatening. I just pretty much used fancy words to call the douche...a douche.
One of last assignments, if not our last assignment, was to pick an influence of literature and/or poetry and write a poem about them. Everyone in the class was excited about this assignment, except me, of course. I know I've sounded like such a grump throughout this blog but hear me out. I was never influenced by poets or soliloquies, I just wrote about what I felt or saw. I didn't think I needed I needed a certain poet to influence me. And then I had an Epiphany, "that's what my poem would be about, the way the likes Angelou, Frost, Shakespeare, etc... didn't inspire me, I inspire me. I wrote this poem, putting all my heart into it, hoping to reach someone, anyone in what I was try to say (I forgot to mention that most of the class consisted of proto-hipsters). I turned it in, confident as hell that it would blow the socks off of anyone who read it. The next class, I sat in my seat waiting to hear the praises of classmates and, finally, my teacher.
When we read other students poems, I just said "Yeah, I really liked it". When mine was finally read, I was literally sweating bullets to hear responses. I heard "it was all right but..." from my classmates but at that time, their opinions didn't matter, only my teacher's did. When it finally got to him, I waited and waited and waited until I heard; "It's good but...". I was so pissed beyond pisstivity that I couldn't hear anything he said after that. It took every fiber in my being to not scream "WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!" in his face but I just nodded. When class was over, I made sure I was the first person to leave. There were a couple of classes left after this where I just sat in silence and turned my work in. I received a B in the class, which felt like the final slap in the face and at that point, I never wanted to write poetry again.
If you read my blog (I'm beginning to realize I start a lot of my blogs with those words), you assume I like to write. For the most part, I do. News articles, interviews, fiction, non-fiction, comedy, movie reviews and even screen plays if I were given a chance. I used to write poetry, even had a poem published in a magazine about 12 years ago. It was something I enjoyed because it helped me express feelings I felt but was never sure how to say it.
But now, I LOATHE everything about poetry and I don't know where to place the blame.It's a toss up between the teacher of the advanced poetry writing class I took or possibly myself for being so thin skinned. Since this is my blog, I'm going to go with the former.
During my time at WSU, I had taken every writing class known to man and excelled at almost all. I decided to push myself, and in the senior year that I never finished, I took advanced poetry writing, thinking it would be a breeze. Work wise, it kind of was but emotionally, it was draining. I had a teacher so Goddamn dry, toast would fear him. I swear, the way he talked just put me to sleep most of the time. He would sometimes assign us subjects that were the most uninteresting subjects to write poetry about. I did not care about these poems but after I'm going to say a month of uninspiring poetry, the teacher, I guess, noticed how flat everyone's work was and let us write about whatever we wanted. This was exciting news, even if the teacher said he would assign us subjects to write about from time to time.
 |
| A possibly less jaded me on the left. |
As I wrote more personal poems, I became frustrated because all of my work was met with a "it's good but..." while it felt like everyone else's work felt like it was being praised up and down. I wrote a particular poem about downtown Dayton and not only did was it met with a "it's good but..." but a douche in the class had the never to say "if no one cares about the downtown Dayton, no real point in writing a poem about it". Now most people I know would say, the SDS looks like he doesn't have a single violent bone in his body. Well that day, I was about to take the that violent bone in my body and stab this douche with it. Yes, folks, I almost got into a fight in the middle of a poetry class. Took two other classmates and the teacher to hold me back. Okay, maybe it was more of a big shouting match but it felt like I was gonna stab him. Instead, I decided that my next poem would be about the douchebag.
The day after I turned in the poem, as I was walking into the classroom, the teacher walked up to me and ask if I could step out of the class room for a moment. He asked if I was okay and I asked him why he asked and he said that he read my poem and was concerned that I would take action against the douche. I assured him that nothing would happen and proceeded to sit in the most awkward class sessions in all time. For everyone's concern, the poem was not threatening. I just pretty much used fancy words to call the douche...a douche.
One of last assignments, if not our last assignment, was to pick an influence of literature and/or poetry and write a poem about them. Everyone in the class was excited about this assignment, except me, of course. I know I've sounded like such a grump throughout this blog but hear me out. I was never influenced by poets or soliloquies, I just wrote about what I felt or saw. I didn't think I needed I needed a certain poet to influence me. And then I had an Epiphany, "that's what my poem would be about, the way the likes Angelou, Frost, Shakespeare, etc... didn't inspire me, I inspire me. I wrote this poem, putting all my heart into it, hoping to reach someone, anyone in what I was try to say (I forgot to mention that most of the class consisted of proto-hipsters). I turned it in, confident as hell that it would blow the socks off of anyone who read it. The next class, I sat in my seat waiting to hear the praises of classmates and, finally, my teacher.
When we read other students poems, I just said "Yeah, I really liked it". When mine was finally read, I was literally sweating bullets to hear responses. I heard "it was all right but..." from my classmates but at that time, their opinions didn't matter, only my teacher's did. When it finally got to him, I waited and waited and waited until I heard; "It's good but...". I was so pissed beyond pisstivity that I couldn't hear anything he said after that. It took every fiber in my being to not scream "WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!" in his face but I just nodded. When class was over, I made sure I was the first person to leave. There were a couple of classes left after this where I just sat in silence and turned my work in. I received a B in the class, which felt like the final slap in the face and at that point, I never wanted to write poetry again.
Sunday, April 30, 2017
Porn in Blackness
First of all, this blog is SOOOOoooo NSFW so if you have children and allow them to read the worst of my blogs, especially this one, you're a terrible human being.
Second, sorry about the title. It was the best I could come up with on a short notice.
Now that that's out of the way, when I was finally able to see "Get Out", one of the many characters that stood out for me was the ill-fated Logan. Seeing him with his "girlfriend" and how she talked about their "relationship" reminded me of two things. The first was Blerds Online blog post about pornography, which can be found here... http://www.blerdsonline.com/2016/01/i-dont-like-porn-anymore.html
The second is where my blog comes in. Yes, I am coming out and saying I watch porn. Oh, don't look so shocked. Porn is really weird when it comes to interracial scenes. I'm mostly talking about Black men with White women or Black women with White guys. These scenes COULD be treated like your typical sex scene but I have the unfortunate luck of finding ones that don't.
As told in the blog I linked above, vintage scenes tend to be uncomfortable because they are always pointing out that the porn actress/actor is black, like I couldn't tell just by looking at them. Words like "chocolate goddess", "my black buck" etc... always seemed to get thrown around. I've seen cases where nigger and black face were used outright. Good example would be "Deep inside Vanessa Del Rio", which does have an actress who plays Vanessa Del Rio's (who is Hispanic) mom and she is in blackface. Not making light of the subject but shouldn't she have been in brownface?
Nowadays, nigger and blackface is not thrown around so freely but interracial scenes and movies are treated like a sideshow. If it's a full movie, it's always given some embarrassing title like "Yo' mama got blacked" or "Negroes in yo' girl". If just a scene or two, it's treated, again, like a sideshow. "Hey, you remember that porn star from the 80s? Well, she's back and this time, she's going to the wrong side of town..."
We get it, porn industry, coitus between different races is still a little taboo, even in 2017 but this shit can really turn off your viewership. It's shit like this that make me see why women, at least the ones I know, are a little turned off by pornography. I remember watching a scene where a woman, who was mature, said the following; "I like to fuck strange men, black men..." and thought to myself; "Are black men a fetish now or something?".
P.S. Did anyone know there is a fetish of black guys getting off in interracial scenes by being called a nigger during sex. I heard this is sort of a fetish now but damn, how fucked up is that??
Second, sorry about the title. It was the best I could come up with on a short notice.
Now that that's out of the way, when I was finally able to see "Get Out", one of the many characters that stood out for me was the ill-fated Logan. Seeing him with his "girlfriend" and how she talked about their "relationship" reminded me of two things. The first was Blerds Online blog post about pornography, which can be found here... http://www.blerdsonline.com/2016/01/i-dont-like-porn-anymore.html
 |
| Logan looking at a possibly sequel... |
As told in the blog I linked above, vintage scenes tend to be uncomfortable because they are always pointing out that the porn actress/actor is black, like I couldn't tell just by looking at them. Words like "chocolate goddess", "my black buck" etc... always seemed to get thrown around. I've seen cases where nigger and black face were used outright. Good example would be "Deep inside Vanessa Del Rio", which does have an actress who plays Vanessa Del Rio's (who is Hispanic) mom and she is in blackface. Not making light of the subject but shouldn't she have been in brownface?
Nowadays, nigger and blackface is not thrown around so freely but interracial scenes and movies are treated like a sideshow. If it's a full movie, it's always given some embarrassing title like "Yo' mama got blacked" or "Negroes in yo' girl". If just a scene or two, it's treated, again, like a sideshow. "Hey, you remember that porn star from the 80s? Well, she's back and this time, she's going to the wrong side of town..."
 |
| Well, grannies have to stay busy too, I guess |
 |
| Subtle, movie, REAL subtle... |
We get it, porn industry, coitus between different races is still a little taboo, even in 2017 but this shit can really turn off your viewership. It's shit like this that make me see why women, at least the ones I know, are a little turned off by pornography. I remember watching a scene where a woman, who was mature, said the following; "I like to fuck strange men, black men..." and thought to myself; "Are black men a fetish now or something?".
P.S. Did anyone know there is a fetish of black guys getting off in interracial scenes by being called a nigger during sex. I heard this is sort of a fetish now but damn, how fucked up is that??
Sunday, April 23, 2017
Love me like facebook...
Yes, folks, I've become one of those people who judge their self worth by how many likes, responses and other types of attention on social media. It's a crippling disease that those of us without a real social life suffer from. It's started by looking at our friends' facebook page, seeing that they just had a new baby, had gone to Cancun or was just arrested and say to ourselves; "Damn, I wish that were me!". I know I mostly do it because the most exciting my life goes is folding laundry or going for a walk. Actually, I've seen post where some of my friends have gone on some exciting walks.
As hard as it sounds and is, a great man told me the best advice when it comes to comparing yourself to your friends on social media, DON'T!! Comparing your life to people you know on social media is going to drive you insane. If those words aren't any help, think of the examples I used, the friend having the baby. They're on lock down until that kid turns 16-18. That friend that went to Cancun, unless they come from money (most of the people I know don't), that's probably gonna be a one time thing. The friend who got arrested, kinda speaks for itself. To keep on comparing your life to theirs is punishing yourself for living. To keep doing so may lead you to do something that will probably get you the wrong kind of attention.
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| "Look, Gina's hair caught on fire while partying with people half her age. I wish that would happen to me!" |
Sunday, March 5, 2017
Saw a star shining bright: 5 years later)
This March marks the fifth year anniversary of the death of my friend, Candice Johnson. I've written previous blog entries about her but I couldn't not write one about her this year. It really doesn't feel like five years since hearing the news. I still remember my friend, Michelle, messaging me like crazy, telling me that we need to talk. I didn't pay her any mind because I just thought she just had another crazy weekend. I still remember the seriousness on her face when first seeing her and the words I said when she told me, "I just spoke with her on Thursday..." Also didn't help that I had a favorite cousin die literally on the same day.
Her death is still a mystery to me and Michelle but I speculated it was suicide. Michelle thought the same but it has been years since we talked about so her mind night have changed. In previous blogs, I stated that Candice possibly had a lot to deal with while we were talking. I have expressed my guilt because I feel as my pushing an ultimatum didn't help matters much. I think I was doing this because 2011 was a terrible year for me, worse than 2016 but not by much. I was looking for something good to fill the void and I thought a relationship would be it.
But I did want us to work and not just because Candice happened to have big breasts. I think we were two old souls, even though I am extremely immature. I really don't know how a relationship between two depressed black people would've worked but I was willing to give it a chance.
On the subject of depression, that's the one small thing I took away from her death. It made want to advocate for suicide prevention, for others if not myself. It's painful to feel the urge to want to die and it is a feeling that I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy and I have a LOT of those.
What I want to say to you, Candice Johnson, is that I miss you. I thank you for making me feel good about myself when I didn't. I wish I could've done the same for you. Every time I feel ugly about myself, I think of you and I feel better. I'm not sure how to end this so as the saying goes, until we meet again...
Always,
Your frog prince
Her death is still a mystery to me and Michelle but I speculated it was suicide. Michelle thought the same but it has been years since we talked about so her mind night have changed. In previous blogs, I stated that Candice possibly had a lot to deal with while we were talking. I have expressed my guilt because I feel as my pushing an ultimatum didn't help matters much. I think I was doing this because 2011 was a terrible year for me, worse than 2016 but not by much. I was looking for something good to fill the void and I thought a relationship would be it.
But I did want us to work and not just because Candice happened to have big breasts. I think we were two old souls, even though I am extremely immature. I really don't know how a relationship between two depressed black people would've worked but I was willing to give it a chance.
On the subject of depression, that's the one small thing I took away from her death. It made want to advocate for suicide prevention, for others if not myself. It's painful to feel the urge to want to die and it is a feeling that I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy and I have a LOT of those.
What I want to say to you, Candice Johnson, is that I miss you. I thank you for making me feel good about myself when I didn't. I wish I could've done the same for you. Every time I feel ugly about myself, I think of you and I feel better. I'm not sure how to end this so as the saying goes, until we meet again...
Always,
Your frog prince
Sunday, February 12, 2017
Conspiracy Theories
When you ride public transportation, you tend to hear a LOT of crazy stories. One story that I constantly hear is organizations always wanting to keep the African American community from succeeding or destroying us entirely. Normally, these organizations consist of white people in power whose sole purpose is to control the United States. While I do believe that there are mostly Caucasian authority figures who are out to make anyone who does not meet their criteria of an American's (i.e. minorities) life miserable, prime example would be the elections, I can't comment on whether or not I believe that these people have any supernatural ties. From talks to the Illuminati to Jewish Vampires, it almost feels like African Americans can't catch a break.
I honestly would like to know how these stories began because I admit, for stories like these to get circulated in the black community, there has to be some fact to the fiction. Kind of like the telephone game. As I've said, I do believe there is a system built to keep minorities down. However, when I hear stories of blood sacrifices and Gay Illuminati running Hollywood, I become a skeptic. Honestly, it reminds me of the 1989 horror film "Society", a movie that still creeps me out to this day.
So, if you're gay, you belong to a secret society in Hollywood, secretly funding Black entertainment, as long as those being raised up do you a favor. Jewish people also have their hand in entertainment and, according to an older man on the bus, are all vampires. Weird because the LGBTQ and Jewish community catch as much hell as other minorities.
I am NOT making fun of these people or whether or not they have mental health issues. That might actually be an issue because, honestly, I've never heard any other race of elderly speak like this. Then again, I've never seen many of them ride public transportation around here. And there are those elderly white people saying they wish society was they way it "used to be" so I just answered my own question there.
I honestly would like to know how these stories began because I admit, for stories like these to get circulated in the black community, there has to be some fact to the fiction. Kind of like the telephone game. As I've said, I do believe there is a system built to keep minorities down. However, when I hear stories of blood sacrifices and Gay Illuminati running Hollywood, I become a skeptic. Honestly, it reminds me of the 1989 horror film "Society", a movie that still creeps me out to this day.
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| Just adding this poster is going to land me in therapy. |
I am NOT making fun of these people or whether or not they have mental health issues. That might actually be an issue because, honestly, I've never heard any other race of elderly speak like this. Then again, I've never seen many of them ride public transportation around here. And there are those elderly white people saying they wish society was they way it "used to be" so I just answered my own question there.
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