When I played a game of tennis recently with a younger opponent, I became engrossed in the ground beneath my feet. This is why:
The cracks in the cement of the high school tennis court resembled the San Andreas fault, and I suddenly felt concerned about earthquakes. It was also a good way to distract my competitor. But I soon found myself distracted as well. By stupers (short for remarkably stupid persons).
The high school football team was practicing on the field just outside the tennis courts. Stupers (possibly the coaches or other adults in charge) played what some might call music, to entertain the team during practice. But I don’t believe it was music at all.
If I was scrubbing out a sewer pipe, it’s what I’d listen to, to accentuate my misery and doleful mood. These were the lyrics:
Me and you, yo mama and yo cousin
Baby we can make love to a rap song
A milli, a milli, a milli, a-muthaf-cka Im ill…
What? I asked no one in particular.
Then the next tune came on. It was another uplifter:
First things first, I poppa, freaks all the honeys. Dummies – playboy bunnies, those wantin’ money…
I did a quick translation of the lyrics to make sure I wasn’t making a big thing of something small: Generally, I engage in deviant sexual activity with all kinds of women, including, but not limited to, stupers, nude magazine models and prostitutes.
Is this what we want our young to listen to while on school grounds, or any grounds, playing sports or whatever? This was not a high school in an oppressed area, unless by oppressed we mean consisting of a high stuper population. But, of course, stupidity is a worldwide epidemic.
I’ve heard a lot of talk lately of alien landings. And not the E.T. brand of friendly, cute and cuddly aliens that sit nicely in bicycle baskets. Is this new alien form messing with our young? I placed a call to the UN. Some of my concerned readers may be asking right now, what happened to your tennis match? I successfully stalled the game with the discussion of earthquakes, rap music and aliens, which was a good thing, as I was leading 3-2.
Why did I call the UN? Because I wanted to speak with Mrs Othman, who is currently head of the UNs little known Office for Outer Space Affairs (Unoosa). She is the designated official greeter to aliens. I wanted to know what the aliens, if any, that she’d recently encountered were like. Are they tired of sabotaging our nuclear missiles and instead replacing Mozart, the theme from Rocky and Queen’s “We are the Champions” with rap music in order to corrupt the minds of our young while they practice sports?
Mrs. Othman would not take my call.
I’m guessing, based on all of my previous studies which, as you know, I often conduct at the spur of any moment, that the onslaught of rap was the handiwork of idiots. Instead of making the worthwhile effort to uplift, inspire and motivate young minds or any minds, stupers prefer to fascinate those around them with the depressing, the obscene, and oftentimes the morbid. Don’t fall for it.