I Ain't Scared of You by Bernie Mac Page B

with her ass—I fall in love with Ping Pong—fine. I can’t say. I probably would. I ain’t into that. People talk about things that have happened, but those are isolated incidents. Those are isolated incidents. What that got to do with me falling in love? That’s apples and oranges.
    â€œOh, they dragged a nigga down in Texas, so I can’t marry no Filipino. Ain’t no need in me messing with you.”
    She’s like, “We been oppressed, too. We were sold—for rice!”
    Black folks were oppressed, yeah, but we have to get past that. We got enough millionaires now, we can start our own businesses, our own networks, something of quality, substance. We got cats making $20 million a movie. We getting back end. We can put together our own independent films. We can buy our own doggone station now, have black soap operas.
    But who gon’ run it? Who gon’ be in charge? That’s where the fight gon’ start. “I been doing this 30 years, you ain’t gon’ tell me—”
    â€œI don’t know what you talking about! Your day is over! You had your day. Nigga! That old shit you talking nigga, ‘Up with Hope. Down with dope.’ Get an apple, hope you choke! Ain’t nobody going for that bullshit.
    â€œMartin Luther King? Sick of that dream! Can’t nobody else have no muthafucking dream? That’s why they called it a dream. He woke up!”

Chapter Three
Entertainment
    I’m watching the U.S. Open golf tournament the other day, and I’m tripping on all the people who are standing on the side watching. Muh’fuckas are just lined up in the crowd lookin’ at these cats hit the ball. Somebody hits the ball—
whack
—and they go, “Ooooo . . . Ahhh . . .”
    I’m waitin’ on somebody to hit the ball like a regular human being.
    Because somebody’s going to get fucked up.
    See, white folks are something else. They’re all standing out there with their heads poked out. I want to see somebody get fucked up. To teach them white folks to keep they heads inside.
    I’d knock somebody upside the head. Bust ’em right in the scalp. It’ll look like their toupee is hanging off.
    I can hear people talking ’bout, “Bernie Mac is hitting! Get back! Get back!”
    All you’d hear is me hittin’ the ball . . .
whack.
    And then . . . Pow!
“Ahhhhhh!”
“Call the ambulance!”
    Man, mark my words: one day, somebody is gon’ get fucked up standing out there. They’re too close. I’ve seen pitchers get hit by balls. I’ve seen the football slip out the quarterback’s hand. These athletes are great, but they are human.
    But these golf muh’fuckas ain’t gon’ be satisfied until somebody gets hurt.
    And I bet it’ll be a black person who gets fucked up. They come, doing like them white folks and stick their head out. Watch it’s gonna be a minority.
    That white ball gon’ find one of them. It’ll put yo’ eye out.
    I can’t fuck with a lot of the athletes today. A lot of them have the talent, but they don’t put in the work. They aren’t trying to match up to the legacy of the older greats. They more concerned with makin’ money or being famous.
    One of the bigger disappointments in sports has to be Mike Tyson. Mike’s my man, but he never did realize all the potential he had. That was because he was more concerned with being a bully than with being one of the greats of his division. Anybody who stood up to Tyson, who wasn’t afraid of him, beat his ass. From Buster Douglas to Evander Holyfield, twice. Holyfield matched up with him too damn good. He couldn’t intimidate Holyfield. Plus, Holyfield hit his ass back.
    In my neighborhood, Mickey was a bad ass sum’bitch. You’d be on the corner talkin’: “Oh yeah, man, that’s—uh-oh, here come Mickey.”
    E’erybody just