14th Apr2008

Why Do White People Hate Shoes? And My Open Letter To Monster.com

by Will

“I’ve wasted all my tears, wasted all those years…”

Can somebody tell me: why do White people hate shoes? I swear, White people and shoes have been at war for centuries. It’s funny because the minute Black people were emancipated and allowed to wear shoes, they never took them off. Hell, they invented shoe collecting! Sure, you have your minority of White women, collecting their Manolo’s, but Black people buy shoes they don’t even wear! They have backup shoes, just in case something happens to the pair on their feet. White people, on the other hand, can’t wait for the first ray of Spring sun. The shoes and socks come off, and it’s Foot City! Why is that? Especially since the feet, oftentimes, are fucked up. Listen, Becky: if you’re gonna wear flip flops, get a damn pedicure. I swear, women love to say shit to me like, “I can’t believe you get manicures” or “I can’t believe you get your eyebrows waxed”. Don’t hate. A person should look as good as they can, so don’t pick on me for your shortcomings. You think I’m gay? So what; that’s your problem. It still doesn’t keep your feet from looking like talons. Keep your shit together and put some damn shoes on!

OK, I swear this is the last time I mention “Love Song”, but I just have to share this: When I sing along with the chorus, I like to replace “you see”, with “nigga, please” (there’s an extra beat, so it works). Something about that switch just gives the song a whole new dynamic. It’s funny, if just for a second, to imagine that Sara is singing to a brotha…

Man, Rock The Cradle just gets better and better as the train wreck becomes more horrendous. I wonder if MTV considers pulling the plug. I can’t imagine the ratings this thing gets, but I revel in the disaster that unfolds onscreen each week. Chloe Lattanzi…still there, huh? You have got to be the fakest chick I’ve ever encountered, but you’re still there. I especially loved your little spiritual walk through the rock garden. Nice touch. Anyway, I’ve gotta give it up to a chick who dares to wear high-waisted jean shorts with boots! Chrissy Snow couldn’t have pulled that off, so I don’t know why you think you can, Sandy’s Daughter. My favorite part of the show, however, is seeing the rehearsal footage with the session musicians. On any other show, the session guys are supportive and attentive throughout this process. On Rock The Cradle, however, they look at these nobodys as if they wish to smash in their skulls. They cringe when wrong notes are hit. They stare with intense loathing at the “singers”. If you’ve got DVR, go back and watch last week’s episode, during Chloe’s rehearsal. There’s a guy whose facial expression is saying, “If it weren’t for my fucking second mortgage, and a good for nothing whore of a daughter in community college, I’d walk the fuck out of here. I played with Herbie Hancock, you tone deaf bitch!” OK, it was a quick scene, but his look was that intense!

Dear Monster.com,
I have no desire to sell insurance or diapers to old people. When you asked me if “today’s the day”, I must say that my expectations were a bit higher than what you’ve provided. While I understand the world of telemarketing is always looking for a few good soldiers, I went to an Ivy League school. Hell, I even graduated from it. I know, I can hear it now: you think I’m one of those Ivy Snobs. Sure, I may not being doing a damn thing with that piece of paper, but that’s kinda why I came to you. You see, some people told me you might be able to help me, but I’m beginning to doubt your influence. After all, you’re not providing me with anything I couldn’t have found myself in a Lincoln Tech brochure. On second thought, maybe I should take them up on their offer. I mean, I am underemployed AND looking to turn my career around. So, Monster, I guess you can sort of see where I’m coming from. I think we’re just going in different directions. You simply can’t give me what I need. I’m not blaming you; after all, it’s my fault for being foolish enough to believe your empty promises. Sure, I’ve seen the commercials. I know you’re out there, changing the lives of others. If only you could’ve changed my life, Monster. That’s all I ever wanted. I guess I simply expected too much. Well, Monster, today is the day, the day that I’m taking back my life. I wish things could’ve been different, but I’m not sure there’s a place for you where I’m going. No, Monster, I didn’t forget my password – I simply don’t need it anymore…