CrackAH
The Jackhole’s love of his life purchased tickets to the Def Poetry Jam. Surprisingly it wasn’t about some illiterate, hard-of-hearing poets. It was better than I had thought even though the lesbian poet wasn’t exactly the type of lesbian that you’d fantasize about. So besides being one of the few crackers there, it wasn’t bad.
However, on the way out a couple dudes stopped us and asked me;
“Hey cracker, what are you doing here?”
I said;
“Excuse me sir. Only my cracker brothers can call me ‘cracker.’
For example, when driving around with my homies listening to NPR and one of them asks me, ‘Hey cracker, pass me some of those Wheat Thins.’ to which I reply; ‘Hey cracker, you don’t get any of those Wheat Thins in MY ride and cracker, you’ll have to wait until we get to the art gallery.’
Now sir, you can call me crackAH, but you can’t call me crackER. Only other crackers can call me crackER.”
They then gave me my props and we each went to our vehicles, his a Lexus with gold rims and mine a Surburban with a Ryan Newman NASCAR sticker on the back. One should be careful with racial terms and stereotypes. Word.
Seriously though, my favorite poet by far was Poetri. He did his Krispy Kreme poem, fast food poem as well as a new one about driving. For some unknown reason I spent about $25 at various fast food joints shortly after we left.
While most of the poems were “directed” toward black audience members it was interesting, informative and entertaining for THIS crackAH.
Although I always have to ask myself that the stereotypes that they made of both their own race and other races, while normally humorous (even on low rated websites), is constructive in the long run.
