A Dry Purse And A Wet Behind: What Tyler Perry and Zane Leave Black Women With

Last night, I saw Tyler Perry's "Temptation: Confessions of A Marriage Counselor," with a date and there were body parts dangling everywhere on the screen. Tyler's new boy toys (Lance Gross and Robbie Jones) took their shirts off and had women drooling in my popcorn. 

When I got home, I turned on Cinemax to see Zane's latest superficial TV experiment, "The Jump Off." (For those unfamiliar with Zane, she writes a lot of erotic fiction books geared to lonely overweight women of color who fantasize about being with pretty boys they can never have.) 

Sure, the show is not geared to me--but I'm not the only straight man who watches Cinemax After Dark for some new tricks to try on a special lady. The love scenes can be educational on the surface--but underneath, they send us back hundreds of years.

 

History not learned repeats itself

Hollywood is the new "auction block" where new age slaves are sold to the highest bidder based on how big their muscles or their breasts are. 

African-American male models (mostly former athletes with no way to profit from for their height and looks) have taken over the entertainment industry. In turn, the same entertainment industry has taken advantage of single African-American women with large disposable incomes.

These women don't want a man; they want a piece of meat. They want height, they want muscles, nice teeth--anything but a man who treats them with respect. If a fellow has all three aforementioned qualities, he is guaranteed an all access pass to free azz. (If he has a light complexion, he gets a bonus pass.)

Does that make me jealous? 

Nope.  

Jealousy is love and hate at the same time and I am indifferent. While I don't love what my low IQ having brothers do for money, I can't hate on them using what nature gave them to their advantage. 

Mrs. Cissy Houston says that people will only treat you the way that you let them. So, if these women want to give you money to take off your clothes--go right ahead and pay your bills. That is, until you turn 45 years old and your skin becomes more elastic. Then, your 8 pack abs turn into a 2 pack with a slab of fat.

Plus, the black gospel-stage play and urban erotica genres forget that "entertainment is the highest form of propaganda." Such propaganda leaves our beautiful sisters with a "dry purse and a wet behind." What that means is they exchange their hard-earned money for a cheap thrill. That 6'5 presumably closeted actor (who appeared on X Factor and Diary of A Mad Black Woman) ain't thinking about them. 

Which takes us back to slavery...

Families were separated by slave masters because certain slaves were valued differently by prospective owners. Now, black couples are being separated by the unrealistic expectations that women have about men due to images presented in Hollywood. Just because women like a 6 foot 3, muscular, multi-racial man doesn't mean that the feeling is mutual. 

Just like their athletic counterparts who actually made it to the NFL and NBA, the pretty boys have been reduced to their physical characteristics and encouraged to ride through life on their looks. (At least until gravity kicks in and they look bloated like Kenny from the Soul Food TV series.) 

Unfortunately, rippling abs and broad shoulders can't be substituted for payment with the cell phone company or the bank holding your mortgage. If your bill is 264 dollars, you have to pay in American dollars--not with a modeling portfolio. 

But what do I know?

I'm just some skinny, short guy hatin' on two black millionaires with a mission to lead black women astray.

In the words of Project Pat: "Don't save her, she don't wanna be saved!"