I Ain't Scared of You (17 page)

Punk ass!

See, I respect women. With a man, you get into it, you can tear some furniture up. With a woman, you hit her, she'll go in that kitchen and open that drawer up and start messin' with them knives.

You hear that silverware jinglin'; that drawer open, and she start screamin' “I'll kill ya!”

Get the fuck on outta there! She start cussin' you out with her eyes closed—“Motherfucker, I done told your motherfuckin' ass!” Get the fuck on outta there!

When you go get the gun and don't know how to put the bullets in that motherfucker? Get the fuck on outta there!

When she go in the garage and get that axe and come back swingin' that motherfucker backwards? Get the fuck on outta there!

When she get up and break the glass and hold a piece in her hand while she's bleedin' like a motherfucker?
Get the fuck on outta there!

A woman will kill you, man. A woman will fuck you
up
!

My wife a lil' short motherfucker and always wanna argue all the time: “What? What?”

Short motherfuckers always wanna argue with somebody. “Who? Who?” Lil' Miss Shortsum'bitch wanna argue with me. Lookin' up at somebody.

*  *  * 

My wife like to argue on bullshit. She think I ain't goin' nowhere. She think she gon' be with me forever. She's complacent. I just might flip out and do a brother move on her motherfuckin' ass. You know, how a brother get a lil' money and just go. Get a white woman or somethin'. I might act like I forgot to get gas the other day. She gon' blow a motherfuckin' gasket.

They'll just make up a song on your ass.

I'm lookin' at this crazy-ass sum'bitch.

They think because you're staring, it's gotta be related to wan-tin' to hit her. But I'm just lookin'.

What the fuck that mean, “cause I'm here?” Now, I done got caught all up in the shit.

I accidentally slapped my wife the other day. I ain't gon' lie to you. She kept fuckin' with me. I told her to go on. I told her!

She kept fuckin' with me and aggravatin' me. She “marked” me: Everytime I'd say somethin', she'd say it.

I said, “Quit playin'!”

She said, “You quit playin'!”

“All right!”

“All right!”

“I done told you!”

“I done told
you.”

“You think I'm playin'?”

“You think
I'm
playin'?”

“Say somethin' else!”

“Somethin' else.”

Kept fuckin' with me. So I tagged her. I must've enjoyed it 'cause I hopped. In the back of my mind, I'm screamin',
“Beee-yatch!”

She left, didn't come back for nine hours. Now, I'm callin' all over the place tryin' to find her. I called my mother-in-law's house. She knew what happened 'cause she was short.

I hung up.
Fuck you, too!

*  *  * 

Black funerals? Don't go to no more black funerals. Bar 'em. Because black funerals are full of shit. I'm serious. They make me sick. Layin' up there in the fuckin' coffin for three days, and we gotta go see this motherfucker, and he dead for three days. What the fuck we gotta go sit down and watch this motherfucker in the coffin for three days for?

White folks, you die tonight they bury your ass tomorrow. I like that about them. They have a funeral for 45 minutes and the lights on. It's bright. Bright curtains and everything. The guy sings,
Oh, Lord I'm so happy God saved me!
And then they close the fuckin' coffin. If you ain't see him, you fucked up.

Us? Three fuckin' days. He die, we gotta take some clothes over there, like he goin' some-motherfuckin'-where.

And something about black people: When somebody dies, black people love to find out how you died.

Bernie Mac and daughter Je'Niece at his surprise birthday party.

Then you got the wake. Why they call it the wake? He ain't wakin' up! You gotta sit there and watch this motherfucka in the coffin! Every now and then it look like he breathin'.

And she down at the end of a bench, “I was rollin' my hair.”

Shut the fuck up down there!

And then black preachers . . . I'm sick of 'em. Why black preachers can't just come out and say, “For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son. Yes, he did. And whosever believes in Him shall not perish, but shall have everlasting life.”

Why they can't just say that shit? It's gotta be dramatics, theater. Why the preacher gotta growl at us?

SHUT THE FUCK UP!

Then after they do all that, they gotta introduce some fat woman to come sing some song. Now, don't nobody know this heifer. The funeral parlor people don't know her. The deceased's family don't know her. Ain't nobody asked this heifer to sing.

She wanna make you cry—on purpose. She gon' sing an ol' song, “Precious Lord.” But she gon' rewrite the shit. So here she come with her fat ass . . .

This how she wanna make you cry. She clears her throat.

When I want to get in tune, I go back into the city. That's what got me here, that kind of humor. We don't know what we have until we don't have it anymore. We lose perspective on what life is really about. Money, success—all that's fine. But everybody ain't living like that. They don't have the mentality. They're still under the struggle. Still living check to check. Something get broke, they
gotta prioritize. We had to prioritize. You need gym shoes for gym, but your auntie need glasses. I think we better go with these glasses before she go blind.

You miss those days. Do I want to go back? Hell, naw. But I can't forget either.

I have an agenda. My office is downtown, right in the middle of the city. When I go, I let it flow. I'm spontaneous. That's where my humor and my life comes from. I don't know what I'm gon' do. I don't know. That's when I have the most fun, when it's not scripted. When I go to the city and I see something, I put it on tape. That's how I write. I let it come to me. I don't come to it.

I just got news today that my man Art Porter—he died not long after doing Midnight Mac; his boat tipped over and he drowned—I just found out his wife died in January. Now his kids are orphans. I asked my assistant to find more information on them. I want to see if there's anything I can do. I like doing stuff like that.

I don't like to be told where to give. I don't like to be told what I need to do for the community. I like to give for many different reasons. I don't give for superficial reasons. Because it sounds good or because I want to be commended on something. I do it because I believe in that donation. I believe it's going to benefit the people.

I was listening to Whoopie Goldberg. Brother asked if she gave back to the projects she come from. She said no. Audience went “Ooooo!” Whoopie said, I don't give a damn.

I left 69th in 1971. I don't know nobody from over there. And I got a tribe of nieces and nephews who need my help. That's my community. I ain't been criticized. I don't have to make an announcement. It ain't nobody's business where I give. That doesn't bother me.

I give where I want to give. You worry about where you give and what you give, those who want to will criticize.

I used to sponsor summer programs. Wasn't making much money. It was $70 a kid for the summer. My wife looking at me like I was crazy. I had to “help the children,” you know. But we sittin' over here hungry as hell.

I was doing 12-hour days, opening and closing. Dealing with the kids. Swimming, basketball, football. And I enjoyed it. Because it gave me joy. When I saw those kids, I saw me.

I think it's unfair. First of all, it's none of your business. That should be your main focus, on yourself. It's not your business to tell Oprah Winfrey what to do. Some people are politically endowed to do stuff like that.

Bill Cosby done helped a lot of people. He done sent a lot of people to school. All those things are great. Richard Pryor has helped so many people. Redd Foxx was a giver. It's their business to give to whom they want to. People critize for numerous reasons: they're envious; they want something and they want to bash you.

I'm lookin' at
Real TV
recently, and I'm lookin at these bulls tearing these cats tails up. White folks crazy. White folks crazy. They be messing with wildlife. I saw a lion caught in some trap. This cat gon' go release the lion from some trap. That lion ate his butt up. Ate everything, his clothes and everything. He ain't got no business messin' with the lion.

White man, he sees a bear in a tent, he go over there with some fruit. The bear thought
he
was the apple.

You better leave well enough alone. I was watchin' one show where this deer was laying down. He was sick. Guy went over there to where the deer was. Man, the deer was on two legs fightin' this guy. He was kickin'. Those hooves was knockin' hair off his head.

White folks better leave these things alone. They always meddling. If I see any kind of wildlife,
maaan
. . .

There was a fox in my shed one time. Rhonda said, “There's a fox who done made himself a home.”

I'm not going back there. I'm not messin' with no wildlife. That's why they say “wildlife.” That mean they ain't tame. They ain't got no sense. A lot of animals have nervous breakdowns, man. They'll tear yo' ass up.

People see a cub in the woods and they want to go and mess with it. “Oh, look at the cub!” But they don't be thinkin' that if that cub is there, that mama is not somewhere far off. All that cub gotta do is whistle. That mama'll come kill you.

Then people want to take up a collection for somebody who died like that. “Um, he died last week. A lion killed him in the forest.”