Yeah, I Said It

by Wanda Sykes

  So my advice is don’t put yourself in that situation. I know it sucks, but you gotta look out for yourself instead of hoping that the guys are going to have some self-control, because that’s not happening.

  A horny guy is like launching a nuclear weapon; there is no fail-safe on a hard dick. Once it’s up, it’s gotta hit something. There’s no stopping it, unless you have some girlfriends looking out for you. They rush in like a Patriot missile and shoot him down.

  That’s why I wish our pussies were detachable. That way you could just leave it at home. There would be no confusion. Leaving it at home says, “I have no intentions of fucking you tonight. My pussy is safe at home. It’s not even here in the building, because I know that I do not want to have sex with you.” That would be so cool. Don’t put it in your purse; leave it at home, because if you put it in your purse you’ll be telling the cops, “And then he snatched my purse and stole my pussy. Yes sir, he snatched my pussy right out of my bag. Can I press charges for purse snatching, too?” And you know what the cop would say, “Mm-hmm, pussy in your purse. You knew what you were doing.”

  Mike Is at It Again

  I was watching TV when the cops raided Michael Jackson’s place. Breaking news, there were over seventy patrol cars headed to Michael’s house. So many cop cars, I thought they got a tip that Bin Laden was hiding out at Neverland. I was like, “Damn, Mike, sleeping with kids is one thing, but hiding Bin Laden is too much. Man, you going to jail.”

  Well, no Bin Laden, it was just Michael being brought up on child molestation charges…again! Why are parents letting their kids hang out with Michael Jackson? That’s what I want to know. I don’t want to know about how Michael spends his money on gaudy, shitty art. I don’t care about his mask-wearing, who-knows-where-they’re-from kids. I don’t even want to know how he breathes through that slit that he calls a nose. I just want to know why parents are allowing their kids to kick it with Michael Jackson.

  On national TV, Mike said, “There is absolutely nothing wrong with sharing my bed with children.” Wait a minute. He said, “Not only was it not wrong, but it was beautiful.” Huh? “The kindest thing that you can do is to share your bed with a child.” What the hell is that? Why are parents still sending their kids over to Mike’s crib? You don’t see Jermaine’s or Tito’s kids over at Neverland hanging out with dirty Uncle Michael.

  I think the parents should be charged with child abuse right along with Michael. These parents are pimping their kids. “Go play with Michael, Mommy needs a new house.” I don’t want to hear this garbage about these kids have life-threatening diseases and Michael takes care of them. They’re Make A Wish kids. Well, I guess their wish is “I want to be molested by Michael Jackson.” Don’t stand in the way of the little boy’s dreams.

  First of all, Michael Jackson is not a kid. Why are you setting up a play date for your child with a forty-five-year-old man? No parent in their right mind is going to let their kid go hang out with a grown-ass man. Michael Jackson? Shit, I wouldn’t let my kid go hang out with Michael Jordan. And I love me some MJ.

  These parents are just as guilty. You know damn well if Jake the forty-five-year-old cable guy showed up at your door to play with your kid you’d call the police. “There’s a nasty-ass dead child molester lying on my porch.”

  Michael Jackson may not be a child molester, but he damn well has all of the trappings of a child molester. Pedophiles usually have toys and snacks to attract kids. Michael has a damn amusement park and a petting zoo. We aren’t talking Chutes and Ladders and a bag of Doritos. Mike has roller coasters and a candy factory.

  I don’t blame the kids for wanting to hang with Michael. Kids love that weird shit. Mike wears funny clothes. His face is strange. He probably lets the kids play with his face like it’s a Mr. Potato Head. Michael is the friendly monster to the kids. They love that shit. Kids love the Teletubbies. I know if a Teletubby popped up on my lawn, I’d beat it to death with a shovel. There’d be pieces of Teletubby all over the place. They freak me out.

  I’m so sick of hearing that Michael was robbed of his childhood. He’s a millionaire; ain’t nobody robbed him. A little kid in the third grade who has to get up at 5:00 A.M., no food in the house so he’s not having breakfast, has to dodge bullets walking through his project to get to the bus stop, take an hour ride to a decent school where he can learn something, now he is being robbed of his childhood.

  Michael is just a crazy bastard. Robbed of his childhood, please! Mickey Rooney was in show business his entire life. You didn’t see Mickey’s grown ass sitting in trees, playing with monkeys, or having plastic surgery to be taller. Mickey didn’t go get some extra legs put in. He didn’t go, “I want Wilt Chamberlain’s legs.” No, his little ass grew up to be a normal, sane man.

  Robbed of your childhood? You should make up for it now. Live your adult life to the fullest. Mike should be partying his ass off. You’re rich. Buy some hookers, go to Vegas, gamble with the high rollers, drive race cars, shit, pick up a drug habit like all the other normal child stars.

  I’m sick of people talking about, “That’s why Michael hangs around kids, because he feels comfortable with them.” That’s bullshit. To a grown person, kids are boring. I can talk to kids only for so long before I’m ready to throw myself in front of a bus. “Oh God, where’s the uptown express when ya need it?” Mike likes being around little boys because that is what he’s attracted to.

  You’ll put up with anything that you want to fuck. Ever talk to a really dumb date and it made you want to punch them in the head? You’re like, “Aw, Jeez, you’re an idiot. Please shut your stupid mouth.” But you don’t say any of that, you just sit there and smile and nod, pretending to be enjoying yourself. Why, because you want to fuck ’em. I’ve been there. I’m just sitting there, thinking, Please don’t say anything stupid in bed. I hope all of your smarts are in your dick.

  Michael don’t like hanging out with those kids for real. I bet as soon as the kid hits the driveway Mike is like (in a bass voice), “Jeez, he was so annoying.” Mocking the kid: “But why? How come? Can I play with your nose?” Mike probably takes off those silly-ass clothes, puts on some boxers and a wife beater, pours himself a scotch, lights a Cuban cigar, and watches SportsCenter. “Damn kids.”

  Catholic Church

  Michael Jackson hasn’t molested as many boys as the Catholic Church. They are in trouble. I was disappointed, because I thought the pope was going to come out and just put his foot down. Just get in they ass. I thought the pope would just step out there and be like, “Look, you nasty bastards gotta cut this shit out, right now.” And he should use those exact words. Because when you do something that wrong, the pope should be allowed to cuss you the fuck out. But instead, the pope didn’t really say too much.

  Then again, you know, pope is gettin’ kind of old. Who we foolin’? The pope is old, y’all. It’s time to start thinking about puttin’ the pope in the Old Pope’s Home. I’m sorry, the man can’t even stand up straight. The pope is all doubled over. And then, they don’t help by puttin’ that big, old heavy hat on his head, and all those heavy robes and stuff. Lighten the man’s load. Give him a little Burger King crown or something. Help the pope out. Instead of all those heavy robes, give him a pair of pajamas. Let him wear a little tank top and some shorts or something. That would be cool. Give him some house shoes or something. Help the man out.

  And now the pope has a hunchback. I guess that’s where he stores all the confessions that he hears from the priests. “Uh-huh, you did what? Oh Lord. Oh—oh, please, shut up. Oh, oh. Oh, y’all are killing me. Oh, I can’t hear no more. My hunch. Oh, oh. I hear them, the bells, the bells, the bells…”

  They gotta get rid of that one-strike policy. If you get caught, we counsel you and send you off to another parish. What is that? All you’re doing is telling the priests, “Okay, you can do it once, but that’s it. Don’t be a glutton about it.” The policy should be, “We call the cops and they haul your ass off
to jail.” Treat them like the little child molesters that they are. Don’t let them get away with that.

  Your job shouldn’t protect you from being prosecuted. The guy who works at McDonald’s, if he molests a little kid, they ain’t gonna ship him off to Wendy’s. “Oh, you can’t do Happy Meals no more. No, no. You don’t know how to act around the Happy Meals. A little too damn happy. Gonna put you on the Frosties. See if that’ll cool you off.”

  Transsexuals in Prison

  Convicts are getting sex change operations while in prison, and guess who’s paying for it? Yes, us taxpayers, unless you’re reading this book in your cell. We are paying for it. Why? Because the courts decided that it was cruelty for these criminals to continue living in the body that they were born with. These felons are really women trapped in a man’s body. Well, if that’s the argument, I’m really a rich woman trapped in a poor woman’s body. Give me Bill Gates’s money. Actually, I’m really a six-foot, ten-inch NBA first-round draft pick ballplayer trapped in a five-foot-two body. Give me Jordan’s jump shot and ball-handling skills. Put an end to my suffering.

  I believe in rehabilitation, but obviously it’s not working because they keep coming back. Now we’re just making smarter, stronger criminals. Instead of giving them a weight room, give them yoga mats. I’ve never seen any threatening-looking dudes in yoga class. You can get damn near any degree you want in prison. That’s cool, but shouldn’t we reward folks who are law-abiding? If you’re poor in this country, you’re just ass out…especially if you’re not a criminal. We damn near drive poor people to commit crimes.

  Ed: Hey, Lou, did you get that job?

  Lou: Naw, man, they said I need a degree.

  Ed: Go to school.

  Lou: Can’t afford to, nobody will give me a loan.

  Ed: My cousin is working on his law degree.

  Lou: What school?

  Ed: Rikers Island.

  Lou: How’d he get in?

  Ed: He shot two people.

  Lou: I just want a computer science degree, maybe I’ll just snatch a few purses.

  Let criminals get fat and out of shape. Maybe then they’ll be too lazy to commit more crimes and if they do…it’ll be easier to find their big ass.

  Stick It in Your Ear

  The Supreme Court finally overturned the gay sex ban. Just think, somebody is being legally sodomized in Virginia right now. “Come on, Betty, it’s legal; let’s do it for the commonwealth.” Why call it “gay sex”? Gay people aren’t the only ones who can appreciate a little oral and anal sex. You know there’re plenty of heterosexuals out there sticking it anywhere they can find an opening. “Damn, baby, you got some good belly button.” Although personally, when it comes to the anal, “no thanks.” I can’t imagine that I would find any pleasure in that at all, period. One time I was in the hospital and they had to give me an enema before surgery. It was so painful just going in my ass. I don’t want another enema. I told them the next time, just kick the shit out of me. That would be more enjoyable for me.

  It was a ridiculous law in the first place. How you gonna tell people how to fuck? Adults should be able to have sex however they want…well, as long as it is with another adult. Some things I’m just not down with.

  Having sex with animals should be illegal, mainly because it’s just nasty. Although there are some guys out there who barely made it into the human pool. If you put a gun to my head and I had to choose between some freak and a German shepherd, I’d take the German…naw, I’d take the bullet. It’s just nasty! Plus, it’s cruel to the animal because we don’t know if they are enjoying it or not.

  Metro What?

  I used to live in New York City. When I go back to visit, my girlfriends introduce me to their current boyfriends. They are what is known as “metrosexuals.” Apparently, this is a man who likes to take care of himself, is well groomed, well dressed, and appreciates the finer things in life, but is not gay. Okay, if you say so. But, hey, he might not be gay now, but by the looks of them, most of these guys are just a swat on the butt away from turning. They’re getting facials, manicures, pedicures, deep-tissue massages, they’re in counseling, and they’re taking yoga. Okay, so they’re not gay; they’re little bitches.

  Why would you want a man who’s more concerned with how he looks than he is with how you look? Yeah, some of them are very attractive, in a Prince sort of way. But if you were out on a date and some shit was about to jump off, who would you want defending your honor? Mr. Metrosexual, who doesn’t want to muss his suit and has to remove his pinky ring before he can throw a punch, or the guy just itching to head butt the shit out of somebody, even in church.

  I want to see the messosexual. The woman who just don’t give a fuck. She wears flannel shirts, boxers, never combs or washes her hair, drinks beer out of the can, fingernails look like she’s been playing in a dirty fan, but she loves dick. How many guys are going to be chasing after her ass?

  Bunch of Thieves

  I love music. It just helps you get things done. Any time you can bob your head during work hours, you realize you have a wonderful job. Nobody bobs his head on Wall Street. Whether it’s working out on the treadmill, driving a car, or waking up in the morning, music will see you through. That’s why I understand why people download music off the internet. I don’t agree with it, but I understand. Downloading music is like playing a video game. You got a joystick. There is danger involved. To them, it’s just another way of appreciating music. I look at it as a cheaper, criminal kind of way. And these people downloading music are the worst kind of thieves. They are too lazy to walk into a store, pick out what they want to listen to, and shove it under their shirt. They can steal thousands of dollars’ worth of music without leaving the house. That’s just disgusting.

  I was not surprised when I heard that Tower Records was having financial problems. I think me and maybe six other people are the only dummies who are still getting music the old-fashioned way—we pay for it. Whenever I go into the record store, I see the same faces. It’s almost sad; we feel like it’s a losers’ club meeting.

  People download because nobody wants to buy or listen to a bunch of music that’s not good enough to be released to the public. The majority of music artists have only a few good songs you wanna hear. That’s it. No more. CDs include a few good songs and some wacky bullshit. There was one of those hidden tracks on a CD I bought. A dude played the guitar and hummed for sixty minutes straight. I went through all that trouble just to hear an artist hum? No wonder he hid this. It’s shitty. Next time hide it on somebody else’s CD. Bottom line, artists need to make better albums so people will want to buy them. Who wants to spend their hard-earned money on one hit and ten demos?

  Artists get so upset about consumers stealing their music, but aren’t most songs today made by taking other people’s music? Let’s face it; new songs are just old songs. I love hiphop, but I find myself buying more rock. When I hear hiphop, I don’t think about buying it because I already have it. I’m in Tower going, “I really like this song. I’m gonna get—Wait a minute, that’s Chaka Khan’s ‘Through the Fire.’ I got that.” Everybody gotta bite off somebody. Everything is either sampled or remade. Although artists pay some type of licensing fee to do this, they still make lots of money off of these hits. If music artists who sample are against downloading, then they are just a bunch of greedy bastards. They are damn near extortionists. They want people to pay for what they stole.

  Personalized Tags

  I passed an ’89 Ford Taurus that had personalized tags that read JESUS. Wouldn’t you think He’d drive a better car? Didn’t He suffer enough? P. Diddy shouldn’t have a better ride than Jesus. Don’t make the Lord look bad by putting His name on your shitty car. That’s not good promotion for the Lord. Little kids see your raggedy-ass ride and think, Is that what Jesus gave you? Then they see 50 Cent getting out of a brand-new Escalade, sittin’ on spinnin’ chrome with a plate that says THUGG’D OUT. What you think those kids are gonna thi
nk? Hell, they’ll probably be like, “I’m gonna rob somebody right after church.”

  Part Three

  Don’t Give Me Death

  I wish I could be for the death penalty. I wish we had equality in this country so I could feel good about putting people in the chair. The problem is that the majority of people who get the chair are minorities, poor, and they committed a crime in Texas. Texas don’t give a fuck. They execute somebody damn near every week. That chair stays hot. That chair is the hottest seat in town. It’s like a U2 ticket. When the Super Bowl was in Houston, I was surprised they didn’t fry somebody during the half-time show.

  I’m against capital punishment because there is no equality. There are too many factors when it comes to who gets the death penalty. Race, wealth, lawyers withholding evidence, cops lying, witnesses being paid, and of course Johnnie Cochran.

  After that O.J. trial I started a Johnnie Fund. I’m saving up, just in case I kill somebody. Whenever somebody gets on my nerves, I go check my Johnnie Fund: “Not yet…you lucky my show got canceled. You’d be dead right now.”

  Too many factors involved. It’s not only who does the killing, but who did you kill is a big part of getting the chair. Black man kills a black man, he gets the chair. Black man kills a black woman, he may get life because judges are sympathetic. They know how a black woman can drive you to murder with all our “attitude and sassiness.” Thanks to quality shows like Ricky Lake and Jerry Springer, people probably believe that black women talk shit while they are being murdered. “Oh, I know you didn’t stab me in my chest. You gon’ pay me for this blouse, you stabbing muthafucka. And that’s why you got a little dick. Go head, shoot me! You can’t fuck no way.” Black man kills a white woman, he gets the chair. Black man kills a white man, he gets the chair and then the gas chamber.