By Michael Harriot
While out for my daily run this morning I noticed a small book on the side of the road. I was curiously drawn to it, so I picked it up noticed it was a small journal. When I looked inside, I began to realize it was the diary for the actual month of February. Unbeknownst to me, every month on the calendar actually keeps a chronicle of their time here on earth. Here are some excerpts from the diary of February 2016.
January 31st, 2016
Wake up motherfuckers!!! It’s time! The next 29 days are about to be Black as hell, so get ready! Y’all ain’t never seen nobody like me! Shit is about to get real, son. I’m tired of all these white months looking down on me because I’m Black. Even the fact that I only have 28 days is reminiscent of the Jim Crow era. Now they wanna act like this 29th day is reparations for all I’ve been through. But now it’s my time to shine, nigga. Just wait. Just wait.
February 7th, 2016
Damn, I’m tired. I spent most of the day helping Beyonce with this whole “Formation” halftime show, and was so busy I forgot to check on the game and my nigga Cam. Oh well. At least Sasha Fierce turned it out. Oh, and the Black Panther backup dancers was my idea. Beyonce is so trill in real life. As soon as I told her about the idea of a tribute to the Panthers a few miles from where they emerged, during the fiftieth anniversary of their founding, she went into a silent contemplation for a few minutes, then she stared into my eyes and said quietly:
“That’s why you’re my nigga.”
Bey was already mad because they were billing the halftime show as being headlined by Coldplay. She was pacing back and forth muttering how she was gonna show these bastards and how Chris Martin couldn’t carry her rhinestone encrusted onesie jockstrap (Yes, Beyonce wears a jockstrap, to protect against cameltoe). I had to beg her not to end her routine with a black fist. She wanted to do it so bad, but I told her Taylor Swift would probably be watching, and you know Taylor still has PTSD panic attacks about anything Black since the Kanye incident. The only reason ‘yonce didn’t do it was because she loves Taylor Swift, and doesn’t want Taylor weeping and popping Xanax. White people are still pissed, though, so all in all, I consider it a success.
I woke up this morning with the police knocking at my door asking me all kinds of questions about my whereabouts last night. I told them I was out buying April and May some Valentines Day gifts (No, I don’t fuck with white girls, but there are only twelve of us, so I try to be nice. April is kinda fine, though…) Anyway, they wouldn’t leave until I showed them my receipts and proved my alibi. When I asked them why they were grilling me so hard, they told me Antonin Scalia was found mysteriously dead last night. Man, I couldn’t even hold it in. I started crip-walking and cabbage patching all over the place. Hell yeah, nigga! I didn’t do it, but ding-dong, the Black-hating, asking-why-black-students-are-dumber-than-white-students, witch is dead! You know what that means! Obama gets another Supreme Court appointment! And Hennessy, nigga. Lots of Hennessy.
Did you see me onstage with Kendrick Lamar last night? Our, turn up was so real that the white man didn’t even know what to think. They were so hypnotized by the prison imagery, the fire and the African dance, they didn’t even know that K Dot was telling them to go fuck themselves. Not white people — just “the white man.” They are gonna get tired of all this “Black Lives Matter” stuff real soon, but IDGAFF (the first F is for “flying”). Let March deal with it. They say “beware the Ides of March.” I don’t even know what “ides” are. It’s probably something good, though. The white months get all the good shit. All I get is Valentines Day and people doing the running man in McDonald’s commercials. Not this year, though. This year I’m going off.
So this happened:
That’s right, the motherfucking President gave me a shout out!
That new Yeezy is riding. He seems to be undergoing a complete meltdown, though. I think it’s my fault. I tried to wake him up, but Kardashian pussy is the Kryptonite of woke-ness. It must be hard going through Black History month in the Kardashian household. Of course I’ve never been invited over, but I imagine having a Black penis around the Kardashians is like walking through an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting with a fifth of Jack Daniels. Not to mention the fact that you have two mother-in-laws, and — the one with the penis and breasts has probably had the least amount of plastic surgery. Plus, he probably has to listen to Tyga freestyles all day. That has gotta be hard. So I told him to vent his feelings. I didn’t mean on Twitter.
But if the world has to put up with him calling out Wiz Khalifa and making Taylor Swift cry again to get another “Ultralight Beams” or “30 Hours…” I’m cool with that.
Mischonne and Rick!?!?!?
Oh hell naw!
And during Black History Month?
That’s so disrespectful.
This just happened.
From the girl who climbed the flagpole to take down the Confederate Flag in SC ,to Beyonce’ to this. Maybe Black women are the new warrior class.
Black Lives Matter. Stay Woke
I thought I was gonna just relax for my last couple of days of work this year. Then I heard through the grapevine about how MSNBC has been treating Melissa Harris Perry. You know she is the love of my life, and I don’t even like light skinnedededed women that much. So I rushed over to her house to give her some advice. I told her to let her staff know what was going on, and she had begun writing a letter when I left, but damn, I didn’t know MHP was going to go off like that. Melissa Harris Perry is so “woke” she damn near scared me a little bit. If you haven’t seen it, she said:
I will not be used as a tool for their purposes. I am not a token, mammy, or little brown bobble head…
I have been shut out from coverage. I have a PhD in political science and have taught American voting and elections at some of the nation’s top universities for nearly two decades, yet I have been deemed less worthy to weigh in than relative novices and certified liars.
- Melissa Harris Perry
Melissa Harris Perry ain’t no joke (notice how you have to use all three of her names, but you can just use Beyonce’s first name. That’s respect. )
Did you see the Oscars last night? I helped Chris with his monologue, and you know I like making white people uncomfortable. They squirmed in their seats through the entire thing. That joke about Jada boycotting the Oscars like me Boycotting Rhianna’s panties was mine. I’m pretty proud of it. I’m proud of Leonardo DiCaprio winning an Oscar, too. I’ think he’s overrated, but for the rest of his life, when he’s asked what he won an Oscar for, his answer will be “falling down, shivering and being raped by a Kodiak bear.” Everybody knows the guy who played Eazy-E or Samuel L Jackson should have won that award. If January wasn’t so racist and they would have at least been nominated, but you know how it is.
Anyway, tomorrow is leap year and I always get drunk on the 29th, so I will see you next year. I’m thinking of bringing Cam back to the Super Bowl, having him wear a daishiki in all his press conference and ending every interview with “Ashay.”
Peace out, and Stay Woke.