“I’ma Break My Foot Off In Yo’ Royal Ass!”


So like any good negro I had to do it up for MLK day. I celebrated by getting followed in a high-end boutique and making only 70 cents on the dollar as my white counterparts! Yuk, yuk, yuk. But seriously folks, I had a blast that’s why I’m blogging a whole year later on some serious African time.

In honor of MLK day I watched my favorite black movies of the eighties directed by white men: Coming To America and The Color Purple.

On the latter, Color Purple is a triflin’ ass movie but not for all the reasons that I remember. I remember it being a snapshot into rural black life post-reconstruction with picturesque fields brimming with southern charm.

Now, looking at that foolishness with 23 year-old eyes it’s a bunch of Samboes running amok in Go’gia where instead of gettin’ their schoolin’ they fiddlin’ around with the corn liquor and bedding each other like field rabbits.


And, I left the subtitles on for some crackhead reason and jesus, that is not the movie on which to have subtitles. It would be helpful if the subtitles deciphered some of the foolishness but it just adds another dimension of WTF to the film. How cracked out did I feel reading subtitles like:

“I’s feelin’ mighty down…And when I see’djou in the sto’, Ms. Celie, I knew dere was a GOD!”

Like w.t.f. This just makes me want to get my learn on something fierce. Although, I will applaud the fact that every time a white person appeared (Ms. Millie, fool in the General Store) they fucked everything up. Just like in real life.

But Coming To America is easily the best movie ever made. There should be some crazy Star Wars-like following with grown-ass nerds dressed like rosebearers and McDowells employees, wearing two-foot long Prince’s Luck and looking for their bride in “Queens.” It is so on next Halloween. Fuck that, I’m coming into work with a lion’s head covering my coat and see if anybody steps to me.

I could go into how fantastic the costume design, the makeup, the plot, the acting, et-fuckin’-cetera is but I’ll just discuss a few choice moments:

The Miss Black Awareness Pageant (whatever the fuck that title means) and my man shouts out “The Hugh Hefner on High” in response to how fly the women are. Fuckin’ perfect.

In response to Akeem’s apprehension about marriage – “You see my son, there is a very fine line between love and nausea”

The whole engagement scene where dude is selling the royal engagement T-shirts and where girlfriend pushes through the crowd to announce in the ill stank-ass Brooklyn voice “Miss. Amani A-zee.” I love how both of them have the dumb American accents when they belong to the Zamundan royal court, or whatever.

The Soul Glo commercial! The whole thing. Just You-Tube it cuz that shit never gets old.

Paul Bates’ solo including the line “completely free from infe-ection!”

Perhaps I’ll just add on as I remember because that movie made my life.

Also this was the time when the best people worked on stuff. If you wanted a sick soundtrack you didn’t call Marty from the SAG union to tinker with some keys, you got the man who produced Like A Virgin or Thriller (Nile Rodgers and Quincy “I only eat white meat” Jones, thank you). If you got a tribal African dance scene you call the hottest midget Laker girl on the planet (Ms. Paula Abdul – who, btw, is going on my list suspected trannies).

Dammit, the eighties were hotness. Oh, yes, and black people are awesome.


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