A new blog at stashonline.com:
Fuck Bitches & Ho’s… and while we’re at Cunt’s too!
Let me start off by saying this, when Stash approached me about doing a blog, I didn’t want to lead with a piece on Hip-Hop’s over-exaggerated state of the union issue. But seeing that Al Sharpton isn’t going away (being that without any TV time, he gets no money L) – and another story such as Anna Nicole’s death hasn’t come along to take over national news networks– I figured I should write something because the obvious take on this isn’t being said.
For starters. I’m white, raised in middle class neighborhoods and am 25 years old, born Nov. 9th 1981. I began swearing in 1st grade in a little town called Albany, CA. Where did I pick the habit up? My parents and Movies. I was listening to Michael Jackson, The Police and whatever else my Dad was in to. No rap music whatsoever. So when I was on the playground and got into a “dispute” with another white girl who was in the 2nd or 3rd grade (as I recall) she bit me on my arm straight to the bone. I called that Bitch so many “bitches” ‘til I was blue in the face. The moral of this story is that without hearing a rap song, that bitch is going to be a bitch for the rest of my life.
Read the rest at: StashOnline.com
Fuck Bitches & Ho’s… and while we’re at Cunt’s too!
Let me start off by saying this, when Stash approached me about doing a blog, I didn’t want to lead with a piece on Hip-Hop’s over-exaggerated state of the union issue. But seeing that Al Sharpton isn’t going away (being that without any TV time, he gets no money L) – and another story such as Anna Nicole’s death hasn’t come along to take over national news networks– I figured I should write something because the obvious take on this isn’t being said.
For starters. I’m white, raised in middle class neighborhoods and am 25 years old, born Nov. 9th 1981. I began swearing in 1st grade in a little town called Albany, CA. Where did I pick the habit up? My parents and Movies. I was listening to Michael Jackson, The Police and whatever else my Dad was in to. No rap music whatsoever. So when I was on the playground and got into a “dispute” with another white girl who was in the 2nd or 3rd grade (as I recall) she bit me on my arm straight to the bone. I called that Bitch so many “bitches” ‘til I was blue in the face. The moral of this story is that without hearing a rap song, that bitch is going to be a bitch for the rest of my life.
Read the rest at: StashOnline.com
