I noticed I often tend to make typos within this blog; I correct them shamelessly.
Wait, what? Sometimes when I type, I don't really think, and I just type, and then when I read the words on the screen, it's almost like I'm thinking those thoughts for the first time. But not really, because that would be crazy.
Dayum, hows a nigga gonna cop some creme-covered Or-yos this time of day? I want dem, really, I do. I saw some at Terget today but they were of the Mint Chip variety. Da hale!?
And a related note, while stereotyping blacks is on the agenda: I refuse to watch "Precious." I don't care what sort of Emmy/Grammy/Nobel prize talk there is, it seems dumb to me. Apparently the protagonist thinks it makes sense to steal a bucket of chicken? I know I'm taking it out of context, I read this bit on a certain someone's Facebook shitatus, but still, the situation would have to be pretty outstanding for me not to think badly about a scene from a movie in which a black girl, from the ghetto, steals a bucket of chicken in rabid desperation. I can't help but imagine all the other black people within range rushing out of their homes to chase after Precious and her coveted chicken. (Accompanied by the Benny Hill Theme Song, of course.)
Just not my type of movie, I guess. Plus, everyone knows the general American audience has a 400x harder time empathizing with an overweight protagonist, it's proven scientific fact. Unless you are Chris Farley (fat guy, little coat) or Fat Albert (fat guy, plays in garbage dump), it ain't happening. John Goodman, maybe.
I mean, seriously, stealing a bucket of chicken, really? If the character really had to stoop that low, why not make her do an equally desperate and harmless, but more exciting, crime? Like indecent exposure? I'd pay to see that in a film. (And I
have. Ladies.)
I mean, is the audience supposed to be on the edge of its seat as Precious, the beloved protagonist, goes on the lam with a receptacle of fried poultry? (Synonyms.)
And who are we supposed to feel bad for? There are too many parties involved.
You have to consider Precious, the chicken, the owner of the restaurant, PETA, the rightful owner of the bucket of chicken, and Precious (she's fat enough to count twice).
And wouldn't the chicken get cold from all that wind shear? It makes no sense, guys.
Don't hate me for hating Precious.
Labels: Am I using the semicolon correctly?
