Negropedia: The Assimilated Negro's Crash Course on the Modern Black Experience
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Patrice Evans is The Assimilated Negro, a hyperobservant, savagely pop-savvy instigator bent on pranking the crap out of our modern racial discourse. Since the debut of his popular “Ghetto Pass” column for Gawker.com, Evans has been the rare voice capable of speaking to junkies for both White Castle and Colson Whitehead with equal insight and aplomb. His first book, Negropedia, is a wide-ranging, deeply idiosyncratic tour through the tricky racial landscape of the Obama era, aimed at pop-culture consumers at the intersecting fan bases of South Park and Chappelle’s Show, Scott Pilgrim and The Boondocks.
Whether deconstructing Lil Wayne’s “no homo hypocrisy,” outlining the all-important Clair Huxtable code for finding a mate, or assessing Susan Sontag’s street cred, Evans provides a stream of daring outsider anthropology.
the only comic with a voice good enough to have released decent 1980s pop songs (“Party All the Time”). If Pryor took genius and made it personal, intimate, and face to face, Murphy takes genius and puts it high up on a faraway mountain. Cook with Chris Rock After Eddie Murphy, Chris Rock brought in more socially conscious intelligence and political awareness. Rock was sort of unmemorable during his own SNL days. Only once he left network television did we get the Chris Rock we know and love
came from, having some sense of integrity about your beliefs and art. It wasn’t a joke ripe for parody. It meant being about “something” and staying on that message. And if you didn’t keep it real, you would not survive as an artist. In this sense, keeping it real is an old-school principle, way older than hip-hop. And making fun of it amounts to laughing at the earnest sincerity of people who give a fuck, who care about their actions and words being representative of who they are. Chappelle
own Quentin Tarantino stunts. ManHunt A game with a name insidious enough to raise an eyebrow. Don’t be fooled just because it’s being played by children; the game is entirely as bad as it sounds. ManHunt is like hide-and-seek without the nonviolent pretense. You are seeking out one person, and when you find them, you’ll beat them up. No one ever wants to be “it” during ManHunt. Deciding to play is almost like choosing to live in the village in that Shirley Jackson short story “The Lottery,”
can say, “I’m short, Papi, but I’ll pay you later; you know I’m good for it” without getting backhand slapped to the beat of the last Nas album. FUN FACTS • Did you know the national animal for corner bodegas is the cat? Kittens may be spotted, but usually you will have a veteran cat who has seen them all come and go and will therefore pay you no mind as you try to get around his lounging in the aisle. • Did you know CoBo patrons are advised to ignore expiration dates and discern the age
into a tizzy by the sight of a good old-fashioned dap? The hubbub was not a good look for America. But the furor actually helped us fall for our new, exotic prospective first couple. We needed to be voyeurs, flies on the bedroom wall of black love, so we could demystify the unfamiliar terrain. This brief window into the intimate connection between Barack and Michelle became an extended window into black life—one that has only opened wider since that fateful day when Obama officially clinched the