Precious, Or How I learned to Love the NiggaBomb

America loves a trainwreck, especially – a BLACK one.  Sure, scandal sells and green is the oneliest color that the New World Order ever knew….

But…the culture’s regurgitation of the same ole tawdry thang would be curious if it wasn’t so pathetic.  Let me say it loud with feeling:

White people need “NiggaBombs.”

I’m not speaking here of terrorists, mind you, though they need those, too. No, I mean, this culture has room for only two black narratives and a strong preference for the explosive, second kind:

(ONE) The Magical-herb boiling-crystal ball carrying-craven-tea leaf reading-handkerchief head wearing-step ladder for white folks aspirations.

Or,

(TWO) The Evil-low down-thuggish-devilish-monstrous-inhumane-un-hooved-beast.

Film is the perfect medium – like a herb stuffed blunt – to spread, to propagate broadly the obsessive-addictive HIGH of the “NiggaBomb.” And here comes the film “Precious”, bloated, like a pinata of contempt, disease, farts, piss, warts – in other words – Black Life!

The good news is that there are several good high-yella-white folks on hand to save the niggas from themselves (I mean, how else will we be saved?!).

This is the black life that American society, mainstream, Middle American, Red/Blue American society likes, nay, needs to see, to remind itself that America that it is America, to remind them who the niggas are and aren’t, to demonstrate ad infinitum who exactly is the disease and who is its solution.

“Positivity” is passe, movin’ on up and pushin’ was a “60’s thing.” We needs to keep it realz and nigga’ do their part in keepin’ it funky and real…really funky and ignorant, especially by signing on to this kind of refried cinematic voodoo.

…’cept there is more to black life than the stories that get told by the mainstream.  I was thinking of Garvey’s words, paraphrased, “where is the black man’s government, his men (and women, damnit!) of big affairs?!” I would add, where are our filmmakers who refuse to sell out and their grateful audiences who thirst for intelligence, depth, range, vision????

No, we know that the Oprah’s and Tyler Perry’s and the other black devil who made Precious would sell/do sell their soul to the devil for another dollar every day of the week. I was tempted to scream that there are digital cameras available that can be used to make videos of high quality, tell stories of great dignity and cost pennies compared to film.

Where are the black pioneering cinephiles who are telling the stories that we need to hear. I know them bills need to be paid; why we gots to pay them our minds and souls and spirits be damned. It just ain’t necessary…

Let he without sin cast the first stone…Look for a video by me in the near future!

2 Responses to “Precious, Or How I learned to Love the NiggaBomb”

  1. Because movies made for entertainment take capital. Movies made for revolutionary purposes are rarely entertaining. Documentaries and hoe movies don’t pay the bills and most people don’t buy them unless they are controversial and “pumped by the mainstream”.

    I am actually a filmmaker and while its not all guns and drugs, those things are all the pop culture world buys into.

  2. Thank you, thank you and thank you! For saying what I’ve been thinking and screaming to my friends and family. They usually just give me the greasy eye and say, “Why you talkin’ crazy?! Don’t say nothing bad about Tyler Perry and Oprah! Precious is a good movie! Why are you always looking for racism?” I just shake my head.

    It’s like they’re brain dead.

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