White trashville in MA

Malcom Mac is trying to branch out readers. I don't feel good in calling people white trash, unless I have seen them in some of their most pitiful states, and last night that's exactly what I did. Last night, I, the prototypical militant, confrontational, dark-chocolate (well maybe caramel) black man went to a monster truck derby.

So, let's go backwards shall we, to see how I got there. Currently, I live in Boston, MA and let's just say....It doesn't exactly have a history of being a very pro-black city. The other week, one of my white classmates ask me, "Mac man, you want to go a a monster truck derby with me?" This is when my black sense went off, which is something like a spidey sense in the spiderman comics, and I thought it was a set-up. A bunch of white people, with shot-guns, mullet hair cuts, flannel shirts and cut off jeans. That sounds like a lynching party to me without the hoods. But, this is supposed to be one of my cool white friends, so I listened to his proposal. Ok, what the hell I thought, I'll try it out once. Besides, the Klan has upgraded to high tech lynching now, the television show CSI has scared them from the old methods.

Now it's the day of and there are 5 dudes going to the show. Their is the white boy, a Korean dude, a Vietnamese dude, a hapo (an aside on hapo...This is my new derogatory slang term that I learned last night. It stands for half-Asian person. Not only is it an insult between themselves, like oreo is to us, but when other's say it really sets them off. Let a white person call me an oreo! How come I didn't learn this word years ago, I blame the south!!!) Anyway, back to the car, white, Korean, half Chinese - half white, Vietnamese, and me.

So, the Korean dude is driving, and he's the biggest hip-hop head out of all. He asks me to bring my CDs, and then asks me what kind of shit is this, where is the real hip-hop? *Remember on kings of comedy when Cedric the entertainer was talking about the "I wish" creed? I felt like this right then, except he was driving, so I let it slide.* Now, this place we are going to, Worchester, MA (pronounced wus-ter) is about 45 minutes away, and going out there it is nothing but woods. This begs me and the Asian kids to ask the white guy "where in the f-ck you taking us?" If our phones don't get no service out here, we are turning around.

Everything is ok so far, there are a lot of pick-up trucks along the way, but everybody's playing dumb. At about 7:25 we get there, and we park, and the white guy starts running to the door. Everybody else is like "oh sh-t, he got us!" No he says, it starts at 7:30, we gotta get there so we don't miss anything. So we start speed walking alongside him. I'm thinking, concerts and plays, stuff like this never starts on time. But, after we pick up the tickets at will call, and find our seats it's 7:35 and the show really had already started. Amazing, black folks NEVER start on time, but these hicks did.

It's about time to wrap up this blog, so I will skip the trucks themselves, but it just amounted to big LOUD trucks, running in circles running over old cars. The moto-X bikes in there for a little side show, along with their version of a rodeo clown, who was horrible. Although, the show itself is fun, if you make it fun.

I'll end with the official count for the evening. After the show was over, and we got back in the car, we had a discussion about who was there. For some reason I saw a fair number of Hispanics, no Asians, and one other black guy, who had his five year old son with him. However, I need to say, his son and wife didn't really look like him (read between the lines here).

Moral of the story you ask? Where am I going with this blog? With my veiled attempt at excitement during the night to fit in, the only person who looked at me like I didn't belong was the black lady working the concession stand. Me and the hapo were getting a hot-dog, and then I could hear the trucks coming back out. So I told him, "hurry up man the show is starting again!" From that point on, the black lady never stopped staring at me in disappointment. I guess we are not all so open!

I can't win for losing

Hey cyber readers of the world! The song of today is, "I can't win for losing" on Gerald Levert's CD "Gerald's World", track number seven. If you can't relate to the title without any other help, then you have been living a hell of a life. Just like one of Mudbone's favorite Jazz songs, "I can do bad all by myself" it's self explanatory.

Where am I headed with this may you ask? Just to one of Malcom Mac's favorite topics...Women, you can't trust 'em. Pappa Mac was just telling me the other day, son, never love a woman more than she loves you. Now for you readers our there who don't know, the Mac man ain't no punk, and I tell a person what I want to tell them, I don't care if I hurt their feelings or not. But you know cyber friends, I'm getting soft. I left one of these lil' girls get to me the other day.

Again, as Malcom Mac always does though, I blame it on Mudbone. You see, my boy has a little play pal, and I was feeling left behind. I felt like I had to up my game and get one to. So, the first bopper that came around is the one I picked up. She was pretty, nice, a little young, but hell, so is Mudbone's. Everything was going good, as long as there was a lady catching the Mac's eye, I was ok.

Well just the other day, she dropped one of those bombs on me. Readers, which bomb it was ain't important, it wasn't a WWII bomb, but it did do a little damage. So, after hearing these words, Mac had to make a decision. Does he play it cool and say, 1) don't worry about it, we can work through this or 2) goodbye. Well, I chose the latter. For you see readers, Malcom Mac is a big mean ass introvert. So, much so that I will never show any of these boppers pain, or even the tiniest clue as to how I feel. I'm not looking out for her, but for myself.

Big picture you ask readers, what am I trying to get at? Well, the real M&M, Malcom Mac, needs to find a new one now. True enough this one ain't gonna work out, but I refuse to be left behind. You should've seen how Christmas went down in the Mac household when the youngest, best looking Mac male (Malcom of course) didn't come home with some sexy thing. My goal is still to find a replacement by this summer, and have no doubt that I will.

Mudbone, I blame you for this one again. But fear not, for you have won that battle, but not the war.