lowquality.net

So Kim warns me the other day that her best friend, Dee (who is black) might be getting me a Christmas present so I should be sure to find her something, or throw in on the gift Kim is buying her, so that, when she comes to visit, I don’t look like a heel. Fortunately, Dee lives in the Washington DC area and will visit sometime after New Year’s so I have some time to look for the best possible gift, but I like to shop early, and I knew this was going to be difficult so I started looking for it in advance.

Shopping for Dee became one of those moments where I realized that even though I have spent so much time with Kim, I don’t know her friends all that well. I know a little about Dee, we’ve met quite a few times now, but I don’t have a lot in common with her. She’s really awesome and funny to hang out with, but she has tastes that I just don’t feel right supporting– like an out-of-control love affair with Dave Matthews and John Mayer (I assure you, she really is black). I know she’s an avid reader but I don’t really have any idea about what she reads other than Oprah Book Club books about the Ya-Ya Sisterhood of Devils wearing Dolce & Gabana and whatnot. No offense to anyone who likes that stuff, but you should all know by now that it’s not my thing. I wouldn’t feel right buying or giving a gift like that. I wouldn’t buy a fat kid brownies for just because I knew he’d eat them (I’d eat them myself… mmmm). Also, I have no idea what she owns already, I suppose a gift card would be acceptable, but I think those kinds of gifts are a cop out.

So, yesterday I am sitting at my computer and electronically beating my head against the walls of Amazon.com and eBay, trying to figure out what the hell I should get Dee. I start typing in keywords based on what I know about her. Keywords like “gifts for women books.”

Then I tried searching for some music she likes, thinking I can use Amazon’s “Customers who bought _____ also bought ____” feature to my advantage to find something new: “Dave Matthews,” Jason Mraz”, “whiteboy soul,” “stupid hat,” “crooked face,” “impotent Starbucks soul” (ok, I admit that I got a little sidetracked by Jason Mraz’s stupid hats, face, and music.)

Next I went for broke and thought about finding a stupid deal on something expensive: “designer handbags,” “Tiffany,” “Coach,” “a boyfriend” (Dee is one of these girls who stays single for long durations and for no really explainable reason) and so on and so forth.

Finally, in what can only be described as a Michael Richards-esque meltdown, I approached the threshold of my frustration and typed a keyword search for “black people.”

And this is what came up: Making Friends With Black People by Nick Adams. Reading the title, I snicker and snort and giggle a little bit (like a lot of white folks do when we see funny books about black people), read the brief synopsis and shoot Kim an email asking her if she can find the book at work (she works at the library). Then I forgot about it completely and moved on with my life for the rest of the day.

Around 9PM, when she gets off of work, she stands in my living room, holds the library’s copy of book up in one hand and announces that “This is the funniest fucking book, ever! This guy is reading my mind!” Then she rambles about talentless white musicians claiming famous black artists as influences to gain credibility (a portion of which is included below). Topics such as “The N Word,” “White Rappers,” and “Britney Spears” aren’t groundbreaking topics from a comedian these days, but the eloquent prowess that Nick attacks them with is fresh, vital and just plain fucking brilliant:

from the chapter “When White Rappers Attack or Five More Things That Make Me Want to Travel Back In Time to Shoot Kool Herc in the Head“

“Whenever I see [Insane Clown Posse's] albums on the on the shelves in record stores, I feel like that old Chinese man in the movie Gremlins. White people have handled hip-hop the way Zach Galligan handled his mogwai. They simply weren’t ready for the responsibility.”

_{from the chapter “To Ebonics and Beyond!!!“}

“What started off as “off the hook” became “off the heezy,” which then became “off the heezy for sheezy,” which begat “off the heezy for sheezy my neezy.” Honestly, don’t you have something better to do than keep track of the etymology of “heezy”? Not to mention the “chain” or the “Richter” or any of the other thing that it’s possible for something that is most excellent to be off of. I warn my white readers away from these words specifically because they’ve proven difficult to navigate even for a seasoned veteran of Negro vernacular like myself.”

_{from the chapter “A Memo to Britney and Justin“}

“If I have to listen to another of these no-talent, white media creations talk about how much they love Stevie Wonder or much they were influenced by Michael Jackson, I might just go insane. If you love Stevie Wonder so much, why don’t you actually play an instrument on your album? [...] Is it too much to ask of one of these Mickey Mouse Club has-beens to stop shopping for low rise jeans and trucker hats long enough to actually contribute something to their album besides the cover photo? If you are so influenced by Michael Jackson, why don’t you stop lip-syncing and try singing live?”

These probably aren’t the funniest moments of the book, but parts that stand out to me at this point. A lot of the work is dedicated to the dumb ass things well-meaning white folks say to non-white folks without even considering how insensitive it might seem. Nick Adams does this very well and without subjugating, demeaning, or otherwise ruffling the feathers of sensitive white readers. It really takes genius to be able to write this brand of race-relation humor and make it appealing to a wide audience and then not seem like you are being overly careful and ultimately deflating the whole point of laughing at race relations. Additionally, Nick avoids the Def Jam Comedy Hour template of “This is how a white man does something [insert 30 year-old Richard Pryor uptight white guy impression everyone has heard already]” followed by “Now this is how a black man does that same thing [insert overly extroverted ebonicized black guy impression while bouncing around the stage in a 30 foot radius].

So, hopefully, Dee doesn’t read this site, because I am totally buying her this book for Christmas.