Dear Black People,

I know we're ashy knee-deep of the Age of Obama, so we may be feeling more aspirational than in years prior. You may have even scaled back your Olde English intake. Good for you. It's great that you want to file your taxes on time, wear clean underwear, and sign up for your own wifi at home, rather than whoring from your paying neighbor. Even though (emphatically points) YOU insist on supporting BET and holding onto kinky twists as if this is some never-ending 1997-themed costume party, overall, I see you trying. Trust me, I do.

All of that is commendable. You may even attempt to pay your bills off (which may or may not be in your child's name), and transition your family into the beautiful world of home ownership. Here in the Age Of Obama, there are some nifty tax breaks and other incentives for first-time home owners. So, again, bravo. On this road to home ownership, however, it becomes necessary for you and prospective mortgage lenders to evaluate your history of debt repayment. They'll look at it all: student loans, bankruptcies, credit card charge offs...everything. They'll even see the note for that ashy 1987 Toyota Tercel you cosigned on for Geraldine, that floozie whose bendy legs and talented tongue had you thinking he/she was THE ONE. You win some, you lose some...but let's not get off topic.

Here's the point to all of this:

If you want to be taken seriously and be approved for a favorable interest rate, much less allowed to live in a house outside of the Bronx, I'm gonna need you to understand something.

There is not now, nor has there ever been such as thing as...

"Yeah...I got the money, but my CREDICK aint no good!" 

This black person, based on this statement alone, will only be qualified for a one-bedroom shanty in Compton or the most hellacious, isolated, corner of the Bronx. You don't want that type of life for little DaShaQuandelle III, do you?


He may deserve that life, but No. You don't.

One of my mother's friends who used to babysit a teething Colored Boy regularly nags about her CREDICK PROLLUMS. She also dines on strimps and fishES and is lactose intolerant, unable to handle mirk. I love her, therefore I judge her.
 
The word is....CREDIT. CRE-DIT. with a T, coon.


In the name of simplification, learn it this way: BAD CREDIT. You'll probably only ever hear it that way when people mention you, anyway.
 
Read a book. Hell, read Jet Magazine (but not really). Read anything!

GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER before you initiate a conversation with me bring a child into this world.

Otherwise, you WILL be talked about and frowned upon.

Luckily for you, it's no longer Black History Month. Feb-yoo-ary....is coon-free. You've got one year to getcha mind right.

Have a nice day.

~colored boy

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