Rule Number One: Any dude over 50 years of age (be they black, white or Hispanic) who gets caught wearing a baseball backwards can be bitch-slapped into next year on the spot, no conversation necessary. I’ll help pay for a lawyer if you get arrested.
Rule Number Two: If you can’t be anything else, you can be on time. There’s only one kind of time, and Einstein proved this years ago. No one, no group of people, get to make up their own kind of time. You see what constantly being late got Jimmy Dimora, don’t you? There’s a lesson there. And, speaking of time, you really should learn how to return phone calls in a timely manner, especially if you call yourself a professional businessperson; you’re not all that busy … or important (even if you really think you are). You’re only a legend in your own mind.
Rule Number Three: Women have the privilege of entrance and exit from elevators first, even if they are too dense or ill-raised to politely say “Thank you.” Same rule applies when you hold the door for one of these dumb cows and they act as if you’re some kind of doorman being paid to do it. And that size 10 dress is no longer fitting your size 16 posterior. Donate it to Goodwill.
Rule Number Four: When you can’t find a babysitter ,it’s OK to bring your new bundle of joy or young child to an adult event — come on, everyone loves babies, right, I once was one myself. Honest! But the minute they (it?) begin to get cranky and start caterwauling, please take them (it) out of the room so that the rest of us can hear the speaker in relative peace. Or, you could just consider staying home (optional).
Rule Number Five: If you are a preacher and are asked to give the innovation or benediction at an event, please realize that not everyone in the audience is necessarily Christian, so instead of constantly invoking the name of Jesus Christ, please say “Whatever God you pray to.” Also, please remember, you were asked to give a brief prayer, not deliver the Sermon on the Mount just because you have a captive audience. Please observe the “30-second rule.” Additionally, no amount of praying over over-cooked, dry chicken and soggy-assed veggies are going to make them taste any better.
Rule Number Six: While you might be from the “call and response” Baptist tradition, when in a public meeting, please don’t loudly shout “Amen” to everything the speaker says; it’s not church. You’re only attempting to draw attention to yourself or your belief system. And believe it or not, no one came to the event hear you.
Rule Number Seven: When you’re 15 years old, “sagging” is kinda cool. But when you get out of your teens, no one wants to see the crack of your ass or your dirty underwear. And that goes for you too, Snoop Dog Kolowalski, hanging out over there in Parma. And quit calling other little white dudes “my nigger” just because it sounds cool. You’re going to grow up and get a $35-an-hour trade union job, courtesy of your father, uncle or cousin, while the “real” niggers are still going to be hanging out on street corners at age 50, drinking cheap wine, and wondering what happened to their lives.
Rule Number Eight: Wearing a platinum blonde wig when your skin tone is as dark as mine only makes you look ridiculous, not “ghetto fabulous” as you might think. And what’s up with those nails? Don’t spend all of the hard-earned money you make scrubbing floors, cleaning toilets or working at Wal-Mart on something shiny. Buy some books for your kids — and then read the books to them.
Rule Number Nine: If you’re driving around town in a $75,000 Benz, don’t keep circling the block looking for a meter because your ass is too cheap to pay $10 for valet parking. We know, you’re just trying to conserve as much money as you can to pay the mortgage on that house you can’t afford in Solon or Pecker Pike. In other words, quit “frontin’” — your ass is as broke as the Ten Commandments.
Rule Number Ten: Pay your child support. It really doesn’t matter if she’s now shacking up with another dude; it’s still your child. You were man enough to make a child, be man enough to help raise the child. And that goes double for those wealthy control freak dudes who just want to punish their ex-wives by keeping them poor. What’s the matter, did she make fun of the size of your little wee-wee?
Rule Number Eleven: Taking a woman out for a night on the town doesn’t automatically mean she’s obliged to have sex with you. No really means no, you asshole.
Rule Number Twelve: Turn down your car radio. Not everyone wants to hear those inane lyrics that you think are so cool; no one over 40 can make any sense out of them. And if you are going to blast your music, why not spring for a decent pair of speakers?
Rule Number Thirteen: When someone says they want to end a relationship, learn how to take “no” for an answer. Don’t become a male or female stalker. And kicking someone’s ass because they want to cut you loose really is a crime in all states — but Mississippi might be the exception.
Rule Number Fourteen: If you’re white, don’t constantly reference “all of your black friends” when you’re around black people just because you’re uncomfortable. Tacky. And if you’re black, if you get invited to a gala being held by an all-black female group like the Deltas, you really should think twice about taking your white wife. I’m just sayin’.
Rule Number Fifteen: If you’re five years out of college and still trying “find yourself” while living in your parent’s basement and playing gigs with some tone-deaf indie rock/grunge/punk band on weekend, realize that even Jesus left home at age 30. Additionally, a job as a barista (or pizza delivery dude or dudette, for that matter) is not considered a “career path.” You’re just a slacker.
Rule Number Sixteen: When you show courtesy by allowing another driver to make a left turn in front of you in crowded traffic, and they don’t raise their hand in thanks, it’s not OK to ram their vehicle with yours, pull them out and then proceed to pistol-whip them to within a inch of their life. Again, that’s probably against the law — except in certain counties in Mississippi.
Now, if there’s anyone I left out or failed to offend — don’t worry, there’s always a next time.
From Cool Cleveland correspondent Mansfield B. Frazier mansfieldfATgmail.com. Frazier’s From Behind The Wall: Commentary on Crime, Punishment, Race and the Underclass by a Prison Inmate is available again in hardback. Snag your copy and have it signed by the author by visiting http://NeighborhoodSolutionsInc.com.
One Response to “MANSFIELD: Mansfield’s Sixteen Rules for Life”
Peanuts
We might not agree on some stuff, Mansfield, but this nails it.