And suddenly I feel all …

Well, seizurey for damn sure … but then I take a step back and ponder Scrawberreh Shoatcake a while longer and suddenly I’m all …

… nah, still seizurey.

I mean, I get it.
I know we can’t all be Sahar!
Hell, Sahar can barely handle being Sahar!!

But try, ‘kay?
Maybe just a little?

Because jammin’ your hams into a mess like that is among the wrongest kinds of wrongs.

That pank is stank, yo!

I’m serious.
Stop it.

Because perpetrating this kind of absolute rock-bottom fashion fuckery is ick and blech and ptooey and I’m pretty sure illegal in several states because of all of the aforementioned reasonation-type shit not to mention it hurts my fucking EYES!

MY EYES!!!!!!

So seriously — stop it.
Frealz.

Because landing your bedazzled butt on POWM or Poorly Dressed should not be your goal, your fallback position or your alibi.

So, like, seriously really — stop it.

Because some things you just can’t un-see.

That crack is WAK, yo!

Because I just don’t see it.

I don’t!

I mean – I can FEEL that shit, but I don’t SEE that shit.

See, that’s my knee down there (HI KNEE!) and, according to the HBIC at the walk-in I limped-in yesterday it’s cracked … maybe … possibly … so go see an orthopedic surgeon to find out for sure if that bitch is truly busticated.

So I did.
‘Cept he wasn’t sure either.

So now The Cookie’s gonna get her MRI on (NO SNEEZING, LIE STILL) tomorrow and maybe, possibly find the fuck out for good!.

Which makes me all ‘Really?!? Didn’t you guys learn how to read an X-Ray on, like, day 1 of doctor school or something?’

Because I sure can’t. But I don’t have to.
Because it’s a pretty well-established indisputable 100 kinds of true FACT that I am not a doctor or a nurse or a nurse practitioner or a medical assistant or the front-desk lady who gives out lollies.

But they are, which is why this ho hooks up with healing-types when her shit brings the hurt.

I go see people who are supposed to know shit so they can look at my shit and tell me how to fix that shit!

‘Cept modern medicine’s not as hot shit as all that.

Because it requires multiple examinations by multiple people over the course of multiple days to maybe, possibly find out why pain is radiating down my leg from the outside of my right knee and maybe, possibly fix that fuckery so I can get back to bidness!!

Sheeeeeyut!

NOOooooooooooo!

I may have to say farewell to love for my (other) boo … my comedic counsel … my satirical soul-mate … ‘cuz he has brought the WRONG, y’all!!

My hopefullyhecanredeemhimselfbecasueIdon’twanttosaygoodbyetomy Ihopenotsoontobeformerlove Katt Williams was supposed to bring the hee hee during a performance in Phoenix last weekend but instead he just brought the ‘Oh HAYULL NAW!’

Because he went there.
Because Tracey Morgan’d himself and that, my friends, is a taint you almost can’t terminate.

During his show, the Pimp Chronicler singled out a man seated near the stage and asked him if he was Mexican.
::: ruh roh :::

“It appears to me y’all like it over here a lot,” Williams then said.
::: here we go :::

Cue the tirade in 3 … 2 …

“If y’all had California, and you loved it, you shouldn’t have gave that motherfucker up! You should have fought for California, goddamn it! Since you loved it.”

The audience member then stood up and said “This is Mexico, motherfucker!” to which Williams replied by turning in his direction, stomping his foot and responding “You think I’m dissing Mexico and I’m defending America. Do you know where Mexico is? No, this ain’t Mexico, it used to be Mexico, motherfucker, and now it’s Phoenix, goddammit. USA! USA!”

Now, kiddies, this is the part where I don’t have to tell you that this heated little exchange headed straight for the land of NOT GOOD with no detours, pit stops or bathroom breaks … because it did.

Because NOT GOOD is disparaging another person’s culture and heritage and should never be confused with defending your own.
Because it’s not.

After singing a bit of the national anthem — which Williams apparently either doesn’t realize or doesn’t care was written by slave-owner Francis Scott Key — he exploded with “Fuck, we were slaves, bitch! Y’all just work like that at the landscapers, motherfucker! It’s not even racial, you’re a bitch!”

Except that, well, I love you Katt, but let’s put it out there, ‘kay hon?
It was racial.
And it was undeserved.
Which makes it, like, you know — wrong ‘n stuff.

It wasn’t ‘edgy comedy’.
It was ignorance and undeserved mean-spiritedness toward someone else on the sole basis of ethnicity.
Which — stay with me here — makes it racial.
Which also like, you know — makes it wrong ‘n stuff.

Outrage over the incident has roundly risen everywhere, including the national Latino advocacy group Presente.org, which petitioned for — and seems to have perhaps, maybe, on some level received — an apology.

A very dry white toast, probably publicist-penned apology, that is.

“My remarks were not meant to be offensive. I want to apologize if my comedy act was taken out of context. I sincerely appreciate my fans within the Mexican community and would never intentionally go out of my way to offend them.”

Not exactly dripping with sincerity there.
Just sayin’.

Katt, baby, if history is any guide toward the future – we’ll see if you do sincerely appreciate your fans — from all communities.
Or if you just appreciate their money.

I know which one I hope it is.