Guests of the Inner Sanctum

Hello, Sunshine…I Mean, Rainebeaux! The Debut of the Funniest Blogger EVER!!!

Some of you already have had the pleasure of e-meeting her. Rainebeaux is a self-appointed reformed hoodrat turned self-enlightened (thus the name and the obvious silver lining coming her way) funkyfreshblackchick. If you do not laugh when reading this, you might want to check how much cyanide you sprinkled in that last glass of Jim Jones’ Special Kool-Aid. I can only hope she blogs till Jesus comes back.

NWNW in Rainebeauxese, or For the Love of Maude, Won’t Someone With Some Damn Sense PLEASE Think of the Children?!
Cardinal Syntax aka Rainebeaux

Young ladies, listen to me carefully: Certain individuals online and off are hell-bent on convincing you that the OOW birthrate in [what’s left of] our community and (UNMARRIED) single parenting aren’t all that bad, beating you over the head repeatedly with the frozen trout of exceptions in the process (“my Mom’s boyfriend’s cousin’s Pastor’s adopted daughter’s professor’s barber’s niece is raising two kids by herself with a good job, a home-based side business, bakes cakes/pies for the homeless shelter [they won’t tell you that’s where her babydaddy actually LIVES], runs the Youth and Singles Ministries at church, and is just six credits shy of her Master’s degree”). They’ll even throw in some hooey about making more babies to increase our population in the name of “rebuilding our communities” and/or “grooming our future leaders”. Roughly translated, that ole “quantity over quality” mess. Deep down they know DAMN WELL human evolution dictates the reverse! These folks are the REAL SELLOUTS, in other words.

Now, one would think that most if not all of the unwed single mothers and married women would be on board with this movement. No such luck: they’ve proven the exact damn opposite! I can see why our political clout and overall credibility in this country are in tatters: we can’t seem to get on one dang accord (or Civic, or Fit…shoot, I’ll take a Hyundai *anything* at this point) for COMMON SENSE, STANDARDS or even COURSE CORRECTION…you know, the stuff all other societies are made of. The older my daughter and I both get, the more hyper-aware I become of these Tragic Negroids—and their white/nonblack co-conspirators—cheering on our continued collective destruction and eventual obsolescence. They’re essentially asking the rest of us to breed even MORE victims and victimizers…roughly translated, FORNICATE INTO DEEPER POVERTY AND THE PERMANENT BLACK UNDERCLASS. They can miss me by a country mile and Orion’s Belt with that foolishness….There is NO substitute for self-respect, self-control, forethought, maintaining standards, and just plain COMMON SENSE.

As it stands, no government intervention—financial or otherwise—is forthcoming: THE UNITED STATES IS EFFIN’ BROKE. Also? The Obama-ssiah won’t be handing out pardons FOR ANY OF US in ANY capacity. We’re on our own and thus have to save/heal ourdamnselves…in case you’re wondering, the only solution I have to this mess is to steer the children who are already here on the right path if for no other reason than to keep them off the stupid o’clock news!

They’re basically Crazy Uncle Larry (who doesn’t have one?) coming up with the bright idea–at the July Fourth barbecue, no less!–of holding a fireworks display IN THE LIVING ROOM:

Using said fireworks reserved for PROFESSIONALS. Ya know, the stuff you need permits and an engineering degree for.

With the windows closed.

And the A/C off.

In hella close proximity to every flammable substance/material known to man.
After stripping down to his 15-year-old BVDs and tube socks, dousing himself with lighter fluid that he mistook for his water bottle.

Because he just inhaled three blunts, two shots of NyQuil, and a fifth of Johnnie Walker Red. Not all at once, but still.

(What? Dude was hot and his smell was compromised by the six consecutive Newports he’d smoked. Number seven is hanging out of the corner of his mouth now. *side eye*)


“Damn, I know damn well there’s mad fuel in this [disposable] lighter…I just got it today!” :snort:




………….<--Uncle Larry's look of perpetual surprise, made famous by blatantly ignorant black folks--celebrities and civilians alike-- throughout the land...after his muffled scream and before his ample frame becomes a stick of dynamite. KABLOOEY.

Do you really want your future (and, by extension, your figure) blown to bits by a 30-second screw and what is essentially a shaky, non-binding verbal contract!? Eff what these people are talking about: the mouse that is having a child OOW WILL explode! Believe me, this is Ms. Conductor talking; I KNOW what I’m talking about! Besides, the “Richard” ain’t that good in retrospect, so consider that as well.

Let me clue you in on one very important thing these hypersensitive, (allegedly) ballin’-out-of-control babymamas and their enablers, and the Black Intelligentsia/CCBC [Central Committee of the Black Community] won’t:

In the most general, statistical sense, SINGLE PARENTING SUCKS. To put it even more bluntly, my daughter is a second-generation bastard!* I stay kicking my own ass as a result while slowly moving forward. More precisely, I look forward to the day I get to swap our names for Mr. Rainebeaux’s *swoon*. Oh, sorry, is this on? *ahem* Look, if you fall for dude’s lies IN THIS RAGGEDY ECONOMY, nine times out of ten you’ll end up like me, if not worse off: perpetually pissed off, tired and struggling.

You do NOT want to star in this block of prime time! Superwoman, my butt…you’ll be more like SuperCHUMP. Here’s the short version:
the nanosecond you tell JaDominick (or Jason, since some Negroes who look good on paper do this mess also) you’re pregnant, dude will LEAVE YOU AND FORSAKE YOU.
His mother will call you–besides just a plain old liar–everything but a child of God…and demand a DNA test more loudly than her “baby”. almost forgot: GOD HELP YOU IF EITHER OF YOU ARE/WERE FATHERLESS–that is the powder keg right there.
he won’t answer your calls…hell, he’d probably just forget you (and the baby) exist.
he–along with moms–will more than likely turn his ENTIRE FAMILY, plus his other babymamas (if applicable) against you.
of course, there’s that shame you’ll be bringing into your own family….
you will become a target for the hordes of fatherless male criminals and “career bachelors”.
Dating is out of the question, simply because you’re the DEAD LAST to be asked out on a real date: prepare to work two or three jobs for oh, I’d say the child’s first decade. Also, plan to spend at least five years to get a degree (in general, don’t bother with an Associate’s though–that’s like today’s HS diploma).
*I know most of you aren’t too keen on that word. TOUGH. There’s no more room at the inn for hurt fee-fees and PC talk! Too many black girls/women and their dreams are dying unnecessarily over this high-octane BITCHASSNESS…

Ladies, you have my full, unwavering support in holding out for marriage before the children. I applaud you. Loudly. There is absolutely nothing to be ashamed of; what you’re doing is normal, healthy, and what women ARE SUPPOSED TO DO. I implore you not to let these self-hating “skinfolk” tell you otherwise. Apparently, the hood has taken them under; by the time most of them get a clue out of layaway, they’ll be getting cut up by the barbed wire (or fried hard on the electric fence) attached to the upcoming peace walls, and it’ll be too late. Put ’em on nignore, man.

Once again, there’s no sex in the champagne room and no future in having a baby/babies OOW. you and your future kiddo(s)–who I’m guessing you’ll go half on with your future husband *smile*–deserve better than this. guard BOTH of your pocketbooks. Raise the drawbridge AND your standards.

Rainebeaux Junior and I both thank you in advance. You’re welcome.


Finally: I don’t suppose these critics prefer the slogan “MARRY ME OR PAY ME, SUCKA!!”?

For the last time, party people, we’re NOT frickin’ livestock.

Wait, let me repeat that last one for the skybox seats:







*drops mic Randy Watson style*

~This concludes my written contribution to/for NWNW. Get you a piece of that new dance craze, sports fans: THINK, PAUSE, THINK AGAIN. *slide optional*~

Thank you for reading; until next time, good night, Merri Dee, and have a pleasant tomorrow.

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