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It’s Cheaper To Keep Her

“I mean they don’t grade fathers, but if your daughter’s a stripper you fucked up.” – Chris Rock

I just found out I’m going to be an uncle for the first time in a few months. While I’m ecstatic for that opportunity, it’s also a sign I’ve long realized: I’m no longer a kid anymore, despite what the youthful appearance may suggest. In a way that’s a good thing; I’m at an age where I’m old enough to be allowed entrance into various 21-and-over venues across the city, but young enough to date someone five years my junior and it not being quasi-sexually debased. I know dating someone who just turned 18 is perfectly legal, but being closer to 30 than you are 20 while doing so is just a little suspect to me. Just saying.

While the child isn’t exactly mine I’m still going to be fiercely protective of the Udoh cub once it’s formally introduced into this world sometime next year, especially if it turns out to be a girl. With a family loaded with doctors and lawyers, the last thing I want is for my niece to end up getting phallically slapped around by some ‘roided out Lloyd Banks look-alike.

Unfortunately the shit’s easier said than done nowadays, with proverbially or literally whoring out for a dollar being as simple as breathing it seems. Legendary town bicycle Karrine Stephans has somehow become a New York Times-certified best-selling author for retelling her tales of being used as a celebrity bukkake rag to a national audience. Kat Stacks is… well, look at her; what more could be said that hasn’t been inflicted upon her face? Hell, just catch Twitter on “Titty Tuesday,” “Thong Thursday,” “Wet Wednesday” or any day women decide to flash the social networking collective their wares. Don’t they know that just saves us the trouble of having to take them out to eat to be able to see that? Just saying.

Thanks to the increase of the Coke bottle shape in popular culture, any woman whose measurements come in multiples of 12 is suddenly considered an “urban vixen.” Women already catch an enormous amount of flak in rap as is, so aspiring to have a bottle of expensive booze sprayed on you isn’t necessarily the best way to disprove the hypersexual theories their male compatriots have for women in hip hop. It’s to the point now where I’m personally scared to breed a woman into this world; I can’t imagine some random guy doing the things I used to do to other parents’ daughters when I was younger, or doing the things rapsters do to them when they’re older, without blacking out on some Wolverine-style berserker barrage.

Being a good parent (or in my case, uncle) can only do so much for the youth. I just hope that I do a good enough job to keep the future of my family away from those greased up poles and six-inch clear heels.

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