Big Booty Ho (Kanye West) aka A Bronx Tale

Yesterday I delivered a singing telegram in the Bronx. It was one of those where it was such a disaster it was classic. I embarked on my adventure and Bruce called me cause it was a last minute thing. Anyway, I got to the Bronx and the client had given me the wrong train stop. So I asked a local who barely spoke English and directed me to the correct train stop.I got there and took a cab to third avenue. I thought I would finally be at Applebees. Oh no, I had gotten the wrong address too. Maybe in a haste my boss had copied it down wrong. Or maybe the client had given it wrong. Either way I was in middle Earth, it was getting cold, and my day was sucking supremely.

Well I called Applebees and instead of being 3750 it was 4752, which kind of put me in another area of the Bronx entirely. I kept trying to hail a lime green cab but those assweeds kept passing me. Since it was rush hour, the buses were crowded and there was no way I was getting on, especially since every damn woman in the world had a freaking stroller and kid she probably couldnt afford hanging off of her. I thought fuck me, fuck my life, fuck my bad decisions. It was too late now though. I kept walking and figured this was the end of the eventfulness. The telegram would go well, right?

Oh no. I got to Applebees after a half hour walking. I felt like Moses and the Jews wandering the ancient desert for 40 years. I called the client. This was the correct Applebees. While I was so tired I could have died, I had a show to do. I got there and the manager was quick to help me get changed. The population of this Applebees was mostly black and Spanish. Some of the folks were scared as hell of the pink gorilla, where some waved and got their kids to wave. I was in the Bronx. This was a different planet.

Anyway, I went to sing to the birthday boy. The population at the table was kind of rachet hood, but they were good people and wanted to have fun. I started to do my thing rapping to the birthday boy, and a second later a manger comes over. This is how the first exchange went:

Manager: She can't do that here.

Client: I got clearance from the manager.

Manager: I am the manager. She can't do the telegram in that suit.

Client: I talked to the other manager, the pregnant one. She said it was okay.

So the manager walks off. The client instructs me to continue. I decide as long as Applebees is going to harass me, I am going all out. So I started rapping to "Big Booty Ho" by Kanye. While insulting the birthday boy was turning 21. Our table and the surrounding tables joined in as we sang this rap anthem that is incredibly insulting to women but fun as hell. So as we are having a good time this West Indian security dude comes over and he should have had asshole tattooed on the middle of his forehead. He walks over with his ethnically ambiguous Applebees employee climbing up the ranks. This is how this exchange went

Security Guard: Excuse me, Miss, you have to leave.

Me: Okay.

Client: She is a singing telegram. I have permission to have her here.

Security Guard: What?

Client: Yes. Now continue.

I sang Happy Birthday and decided it was best to get the fuck outta Dodge. While the client was supposed to tip me I also didn't want to end this adventure in handcuffs. So I finished my skit and was on my way out. Just then the client called me back in.

Client: I wanna give you a little something. You did a good job.

The client's family member, who by the way is missing a very important tooth near the front of his mouth hands me a twenty.

Security Guard walks over. This man is not going to lose and he is taking his job way too seriously.

Security Guard: I know you are trying to help her but she has to go. Come on, Miss.

Client: No, I was giving her a little something. She is a singing telegram. I ordered her.

Security Guard: She needs to go.

And what happened next would shock us all. Yes, she even wagged her finger hood style.

Client: LISTEN MUTHERFUCKER, I ORDERED THIS!  Yeah, that;s right. I paid for this! I paid for this with my money, mutherfucker!  And here you were all up in our shit when we had permission from the manager to do this. Oh, and you fucking ruined my video!!!

The Security Guard: I'm sorry.

Client: You better be, mutherfucker. I am so mad I could cut you.

Security Guard: There will be no need for that m'am

That is when she lifted her hands and I saw the biggest pair of Edward Scissorhands hood nails. The security guard, asshole on a power trip, was now afraid he was going to be sliced to shreds. This table perhaps had a weapon or two on them, but those nails seemed to be the most effective one of all. And who would have thought this would all occur at Applebees. That is when I waved, ran out, and jumped on the Metro North which was right there. Yeah, it ate up a few bucks. But it got me to Grand Central and I figured I had enough adventure for one day.

I say at the end of every shitty adventure there are not tears but punchlines. This was pure comedic gold. Note to self, come back in the next life as a West Indian dude just so I can say nasty shit with a cool accent. Or better note to self, come back as a rachet black lady and that way people will take me seriously when I threaten to cut them.

Either way, I am thinking of putting this one in the sequel.

Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.aprilbrucker.com

Jesus is Black

Over the years I grew up in a church and we had a white Jesus. Despite the gap in the story about his skin color I bought it. After all, in Sunday school and such it was like Jesus loves you now go and color. More like white Jesus loves you. Our hymns havent been updated since the Dark Ages. That is what gets me about the Roman Catholic Church. Our pope is a raging homophobe who is anti-woman to boot, but they are changing some of the responses like that is the big problem and not the pedophile priests. I digress though.

I remember the first time I saw a black Jesus. I was a kid and my parents used to get these leaflets from Mary Knoll. When I opened it I saw a black Jesus. This distressed me. Jesus was fair. Looking back he would have burnt in that hot Middle Eastern sun. Actually he would have blistered like I often do. Me and my fair Jesus baking an dying. Nevermind a dying on the cross. Jesus was going to get heat stroke and in those days they didn't have sun block.

My mother explained Jesus was in their likeness and according to them Jesus was black. There was nothing wrong with it she explained. And it would have made more sense for Jesus to be dark skinned. Still, this was a lot.

Years later, we made friends with a family who were Christian missionaries in Africa. Bringing the word of God to lands torn by famine and war, they rode motorcycles everywhere. I asked if they were scared because missionaries are not often well liked on first arrival. Sometimes they are even killed, and more often than not tortured. They explained, "If you have fear and do not trust God, don't go." They worked amongst the jumping tribe, you know, like the guy in The Air Up There. Anyway they explained that all the Jesus's in those churches were black. I suppose whatever floated their boat, right?

When I got older I delivered a telegram to a black church where I saw a black Jesus for real. I write in my book that I felt Kanye West decorated the place. Personally I began to like the black Jesus depiction a little better. Not only was it more honest and real, but Jesus actually had better abs. He looked like someone who worked with his hands and lived hand to mouth as he was a wanted fugitive from kings. No, not because he was black. Although the hooker gal pal does not help the stereotype and neither does fish eating, but the depiction was more honest. Pat Robertson would have died, and I would have cheered.

I remember visiting a friend's more liberal church, New Light Presbyterian, when he was going to be ordained. In that church God did not have a gender pronoun. For the most part, the church was much more warm and welcoming than the Catholic congregation I grew up in. There was also a large gay and lesbian population. As progressive Christians everyone was welcome as long as they were baptized. I remember once I was talking to a woman and her partner after church about some of the coloring books for the kids and how they were older. They said it was a dead giveaway because Jesus was white.

Over the years I have seen depictions of Jesus as black, white, Asian, Spanish and everything else in between. He's like Madonna, always changing his looks. Wonder that they aren't better friends.

I mean, it's a wonder he doesn't hang out with Bill Clinton too. Jesus could have been classified as a pimp with his hooker girlfriend. Bill Clinton was jokingly referred to as the first black president because he smoked  cigars, liked white women with a big booty, and not to mention played the sax.

Who knows? We have a black president now. Perhaps America is finally ready for a black Jesus. As people we all have many colors. Hell, my third cousins are Jewish, part African American, and part Indian. If they want Jesus in their likeness I am for that too.

Happy Easter Everyone!

Love

April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Spring
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to RAINN