This is a hilarious book with a whole lot of swearing. So if you're put off by that sort of thing, maybe you shouldn't read this. Otherwise, it's a very clever, entertaining book.

White people don't know how to tell the difference between one black man and another. If they could, we'd all get along. It would solve everything. But to the white man, we're all the same.

Trouble.

They see two black men together and it's a crowd. A dangerous mob. To white people, even Ed Bradley and Bryant Gumbel hanging out, waiting to cross the street together, is potentially scary. Clarence Thomas in an Adidas warm-up suit will not get a cab in Washington, D.C. He will get followed around in the mall while he tries to check out athletic footwear.

White people are so blind that they can't even tell the difference between me and a larger-than-life character like Suge Knight. But my friends, there's a BIG FUCKING DIFFERENCE. You can tell just by looking that one of us is not to be fucked with.

Blacks, however, can immediately distinguish between white guys. For instance: Pauly Shore and J.F.K, Jr.

See what I mean? You know immediately.

Why is this so? Because blacks have had to learn to differentiate. We're confronted by white faces on TV. We pay our rent to a white guy. We work for white guys. White people don't have to know anything about black people to survive. They can go their whole lives and never even know a black person. (11)

Segregation kept the white man in check. But black people have some money now. We have as much money as broke white people. We're coming up. Now broke black people live right next door to broke white people, and the white people don't know what the hell's going on.

They're wondering, "Oh shit. There's a lot of niggers out here. Am I becoming a nigger?" (31)

I've watched those "Peanuts" specials for twenty-something years, and they never let Franklin say anything. Every other character has an identifiable trait. Charlie Brown was awkward. Lucy was a bitch. Linus was co-dependent. Schroeder loved music. Peppermint Patty was a lesbian. That's right Peppermint Patty was a lesbian. (I'm sure if you could ask her what her favorite song is, she'd say "Constant Craving.") Anyway, they never gave Franklin anything to say.

Come on, Charles Schulz, help us out here. Give him something. Maybe a Jamaican accent. (47)

I once asked out a fine sister. She turned me down.

Her: Sorry. I don't date black men.
Me: Girl, how come you don't date black men?
Her: No reason.
Me: No reason?

So I punched her in the face. Now she's got a reason.

Okay, I didn't really do that. I'm not really violent or intolerant. Especially if I see a white guy with an ugly sister. My first thought is, "Hey, thanks a lot, man. Thanks for taking her ugly ass off our hands, because we didn't know what we were going to do about her." (108)

Relationships. Easy to get into, too hard to maintain.

At first you can't stop talking, but at some point you quit because you have heard everything this person has to say. And it makes you sick to your stomach.

Her: Remember that time -
You: Yeah. I remember that time.
Her: Ever tell you about the time - ?
You: Yeah. You told me. Stop telling me. Why don't you go out and get kidnapped and have some new shit happen to you?

It's sad. (140-141)

My whole thing about God is simple: I want to find him before he finds me. Usually, when God finds you, it's after you've really fucked up. These days a man will kill his wife, kids, and neighbors, and then say he's found God. I don't think he just "found" him, lying under some couch. He went after God. Pursued him. Good thing God isn't hard to catch. And being a forgiving God, he'll always take the fuck-up in. (196)

try reading this before you get all upset at me for having cursing on this site.

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