[ATA #11] The Pied Pipers of Patriarchy: The Rise and Inevitable Fall of Digital Charlatans

WARNING: Across the Aisle features a generous helping of exploratory writing, gratuitous pop culture abuse, and complimentary Funyons. This is Hive Mind 101. That glorious moment when Wonder Twin powers activate. Jay Connor + Alex Hardy = the triumphant return of Voltron. These ain’t no studio tricks, and such brilliance is solely intended for mature reading audiences.  Enjoy.

Episode 11

Steve Harvey, The Zoot Suit Don. (Photo: NBC Chicago)

The Pied Pipers of Patriarchy: The Rise and Inevitable Fall of Digital Charlatans 

Alexander Hardy: The State of Florida, blue contact lenses, and the quest for respectability are destroying Black people. The first destroys us with lopsided legislature and bullets, the second with the scorn of 1000 ashamed ancestors, and the third? Well, the quest for respectability leads us, the Coloreds, into the valley of the shadow of debt, stupidity, and reality television. We relish every opportunity to assert ourselves as more refined than those niggas over there morally, sexually, and financially superior to our peers, facts and easily verifiable bank statements be damned. Our collective need to be regarded as worthy of admiration and retweets keeps jewelers who make neck art from gold-dipped baby Jordans and certain self-proclaimed self-help czars in business. Yes, I’m talking about Steve Harvey, Tyrese, Tony Gaskins, Chey Bostock, Farrah Gray and the rest of the chocolate charlatans who sell generic quotes and patriarchy to the masses, bundled with a janky interpolation of da (alleged) werd of da lawd. It’s too much.

Jay Connor: The game is to be sold, not told. Be it a wise old adage or a Snoop Dogg album title, their gravy train is screaming down the tracks, making it rain alopecia and synthetic perspicacity. Besides, who needs a bible when chapter Tony verse Gaskins is just a leering meme away? Draped in ascots and deceit, these social media apex predators feast on the vulnerabilities of Black women, issuing cleverly disguised mandates culled from Romany Malco tangents and fortune cookies. Their natural habitat is gullibility, an environment in which they thrive since nary a matador can be found to sidestep their bullshit. Which in turn makes them adept Vagina Whisperers, who take great pride in telling women what to do with theirs. Because entitled. Because lucrative. Because patriarchy.

AH: When I happen upon some morsel of vending machine wisdom by one of these gents, my inner angry Black man perks up and reaches for his shotgun. I can’t quite grasp why it’s en vogue for bescandled Black men to dole out advice on Black womanhood, and for that advice to be accepted, quoted, and followed. But, somehow, by hook, crook, and fuckery-filled self-help book, these dudes have weaseled and veneered their way into the hearts, bootyholes, and wallets of countless women, respected for their misogyny-fed prosperity ministries and unabashed scoundrelhood. How did it come to this?

JC: If Sway ain’t got the answers how the hell am I supposed to know? You would think the drive-thru windows they slang guidance and onion rings from would give their prey pause, but I digress. Farrah Gray, chieftain of the Sigma Zeta Fraud fraternity, can commonly be found contaminating the Internet with gossip, or in the loving company of his imaginary friend, Facial Hair. “But wait a minute!” said anyone with even an ounce of sense. “Isn’t this guy supposed to be some kind of financial savant? A bepenised Iyanla Vanzant who peddles Buddy Passes of caste salvation, yet happily accepts retweets as an honorarium? If this guy is so enamored with uplifting his disciples, why does his website pillage the dreck of TMZ for its content?” Great fucking question. Is it “Ooochie Wally” or “One Mic”? Is it “Black Girl Lost” or shorty you owe for ice? But then again, we are talking about a dude whose claim to fame is becoming a millionaire at the same age the rest of us were sprouting whiskers from our armpits. Though oddly enough, there is no evidence of said windfall. Oh? He must’ve buried the receipts with Whitney.

AH: When I made my way over to Farrah’s page, looking for something, anything to explain why minds, wallets, and Facebook timelines open to accommodate his musings, it was like walking onto the set of “Woman, Thou Art Not Good Enough, For Anyone, Ever, Ya Bish.” Are you unknowingly turning men away and in need of a dose of demeaning generalizations to get your love life on track and end your journey into vile womanhood? Let this man with the most obnoxious website this side of Bossip tell you what men find unattractive, but won’t ever tell you:

3. Remote Control - don’t hog the remote control. Meaning don’t be the one making all the decisions all the time

Translation: let a man be a man. Whatever the fuck that means. What’s the first thought that comes to mind when you see a lady friend reposting wisdom from one of these pish posh pushers, telling them how to be better breasted humans and attract/keep a man?

JC: Bereavement. A crippling anguish and loss mirrored only by the dissolution of Keenan & Kel. It hurts my heart to know that someone with so much to offer the world could succumb to such unfortunate circumstances, but I wade through the tears and wish them well on their journey to Facebook exile.  And don’t call or text me either. You belong to the Other inbox now.

Yourself?  

AH: Confusion, surprise, and then more confusion. What happen? Why it happen? Can I be infected by whatever is ailing these people? Elsewhere in Awful Blackness lives Tariq Nasheed, creator of the Hidden Colors documentary series, giver of Mack Lessons, and full-time hater of Black women. Now, while there may be some necessary info contained in his films about Black history, that good is Sharkeisha’d by his anti-woman rants and pimping advice, packaged as goodwill. One recent gem, revealed to me by a former Facebook friend, decreed: 


And all of your cousins came to the yard to touch and agree. It appears that slinging this Dollar Store wisdom is lucrative as he has become a junkyard savior to dusty niggas worldwide, guiding them towards the light and into the land of Milk and Imaginary Honeys. Are we in the wrong field?

JC: And all this time I thought a woman with more than three tattoos was Wiz Khalifa a WNBA player. My mind is irreparably blown. Why do you feel as though these ardent Title XI antagonists have been able to sustain their influence? Aren’t child vaccinations supposed to prevent these type of things?

AH: I think if you take one part of a decently faced man in a decent to niggerish suit, projecting a lifestyle of Relative Negro Success (fancy car, McMansion or better, mixed kids, etc.) and a mastery at doling out stale to stab-worthy Fake Deep Hood Wisdoms and, gatdammit, you got yourself a hit. Maybe, just maybe, their greater purpose here in this post-Teen Summit world of ours is to further the cause in favor of Super Duper Late Term Abortions, also known as “The Adult Recall.” Because if you put together a spiffy montage of all of their collective abysmal personhoods, we could get that petition right onto President Obama’s desk by sundown. Let’s put them on the Magic School Bus and fling them back to slaverytimes.

JC: Ah, yes. Slavery: the great equalizer. Harbinger of Hollywood blockbusters, pigs feet, and the Donald Sterling collection of NAACP Lifetime Achievement Awards. It would hurt my heart to watch Steve Harvey soil one of his signature zoot suits in the bowels of Lord Ligonier, but that’s probably something he should’ve thought about before unleashing his mustache unique brand of lunacy to deprave his minions. In a perfect world, he would wake up tomorrow in dire need of a maxi pad. But sadly, I’m told karma has other plans. Hopefully they involve an encounter with ChapStick.

AH: I'm not one to knock the next Negro's gravy train. This is the Age of the Young and the Terrible, and a lack of authenticity never stopped anybody from cashing out. *Rick Ross grunt* So I can't shouldn't fault these brothers for carving their own lanes to prosperity. It is unfortunate that simple requests for some receipts from these brothers (who have built brands and wealth on being better than you) are met with rage and accusations of Hateration, which is the go-to Negroidian deflection tactic. I want to believe that one day a chocolate charlatan will be made to directly address the misogyny and sanctified fuckshit in their messages. I want to believe that selling respectability wishes and dusty nigga dreams of all-you-can-hump romantic flourishing isn't sustainable, but book deals, radio shows, and conference rooms of spouse-hunting Coloreds, all entranced by a zoot suit and a smile, don't give me any hope at all.

Follow me on Twitter: @chrisalexander_
LIKE me on Facebook: Colored Boy

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A million thanks to my partner in crime:

Jay Connor is a prized pupil of the esteemed Professor Xavier and a Los Angeles based freelance writer. When he’s not preoccupied with accruing overdraft fees while chasing the dream, he can be found disseminating terrorist threats on Twitter and Facebook. Direct all business inquiries, sexual innuendo and Nigerian email scams to deathtoadverbs@gmail.com.

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