Shit like this is why our kids need less supersoaking and more studying. Don't be ashamed to put little Javon in the slow class if he needs it neither.

“'Shout out to the slave masters,' SB told Toure. 'Without them we’d still be in Africa. We wouldn’t be here to get this ice and tattoos.'” -Soulja Boy Tellem, The Daily Beast via

Toure and that snarky, high-yeller, I’m-better-than-you grin of his have done it again. Officially hip-hop’s current YN of interest, The Negro Channel's closer reels in another monumental moment of moronic monkey mumble.

[Blogger's Note: Say that shit three times fast. I Amistad Dare you.]

I've defended Soulja Boy's right to be young and fun-loving in the past. Early Halloween evening [when my homegirl Nessia put me on to the original piece] I officially resigned as Soulja Boy's counsel and Civil Liberties Union representative. Norman Siegel be damned.

I tried to give SB the benefit of the doubt in my mind. I thought, "This is print. Maybe he was joking. How the fuck would I know?" Unfortunately, Toure's reaction gives zero indication that there was any implied sarcasm in the BAPEville, Alabama-native's rich nigga rhetoric. I can imagine YN v2.0 gave Soulja the same face he gave R. Kelly when dude answered that famous question with another, more famous question.

"My jaw, at this point, was on the ground.'We wouldn't be here,' he continued, having no idea how far in it he'd stepped, 'to get this ice and tattoos.'"

Mr. Boy's apparent love for massa provides a whole new perspective on "Yahhhhh, Bitch! Yahhhh!" At first I thought I was wrong to make fun of this direct descendant of Chicken George for his incoherent slave ramblings over dance instrumentals. Now I realize it is our collective responsibility as a people seeking progress to bring him to justice.

Flavor Flav can breathe easy for a spell. He's free to impregnate skrippers another week while we embark on this international manhunt for the leader of the teen crew with most excessive acronym ever [Sodomite Money Cash Gang or some shit]. Actually, scratch that. Flavor had best continue hiding as I don't think it'll take too long to find SB and Aye-rab [Money?]. They'll be at the damn mall either buying hoodies or playing Time Crisis at the pizza shop.

I guess the question for any aspiring lynch mob is what to do with Soulja Boy once captured.

Also of note is that Soulja Boy is 18 years old and has inexplicably been allowed to vote. He has expressed a desire to exercise his right to stop crankin it for a second to do so. When he provides his signature of "X" and tries to convince poll workers that his grandfather voted, I do sincerely wonder who he's casting a ballot for. Were it legal for me to speak publicly, make eye contact with white folk or gamble, I'd put a ten whole cents on "Cap'n Jackson."

In my day an entire bushel of cereal meal only cost a nickel--except for Cap'n Jackson's brand. It's particularly crunchy and delicious, but I digress.

As the gift of voting is bestowed upon the nineties baby, it shall soon be repealed for the Negro baby. We're soooo fuckin done if SB is the voice of this new generation as the onset of the cranking, popping and birdwalking pandemics would indicate.

Doesn't this ass-ignorant marmoset know that if his ancestors didn't come here by force centuries ago he likely could have acquired bigger, better pinker diamonds and far more impressive body art while residing on The Dark Continent?

That is, provided he weren't born into slavery.

Negroes, please... If you have any children in your family you should so happen to love, it is your responsibility to snatch them up and drag them away from the TV whenever you see this top-5 race offender on the screen. You can explain to little Tay and Man-Man later in life. They'll thank you in 15 years when they're not incarcerated.

Questions? Comments? Requests? Ever see a bird walk with one foot?

P.S.: This the same low-expectation-having embarrassment of a human being who told Tay and Man-Man to strive for barely-passing grades in school.

P.P.S.: Ice and tattoos are akin to the non-entrail parts of the pig a slave would get to eat on holidays.

P.P.P.S.: By "holidays" I mean "whenever massa doesn't feel like finishing his ham."