Debra Dickerson.

Debra. Baby. I love you to death but right now I’m mad as hell at you. Do you want to know why? Because when I stumbled across your book “The End of Blackness” it was like my mind was elevated to another whole plateau. Well, actually, I was just glad that somebody black finally had the balls to tell the damn truth instead of skating around the truth with safe, diplomatic soundbites and comments. I was so enthrauled by your book I decided to find out if you had a site. Low and behold there I was at Debra’s site reading through her daily blogs and combing through her many links to various afrocentric sites. Now, this is why I’m mad as hell at you:

Your site has been UNDER CONSTRUCTION for the last 5 years of it’s existance. At least a few years ago I could mess around over your old ass blogs and peep various other black links. But now even the blogs and links have been removed because, once again, your site is UNDER CONSTRUCTION.  Even my girl, Lashawn Barber, gave you some love on her weblog (even though her shit is a couple of years old too). But while my mind is  on Lashawn - Lashawn, baby, I know you’re a fine sister too. I’ve seen your pictures. The clothes you wear do not do you justice.  I can also tell from the way you pose in your pictures there seems to be some kind of insecurity going on with you. You need to losen up. Okay, back to my girl, Debra. See, Debra, babygirl, sweetie pie, I stood in your corner when I ran into one black person after the next, online and in person, and they talked about how stupid and ignorant you and your book sounded. Then I was further frustrated as well as confused and angry when I ran into a white dude, one of my former professors from grad school (The fucking no good, racist, egotistical, controlling, manipulating, Irish son-of-a-bitch),  proceeded to tell me how he was so flabbergasted by your book that the asshole even had the damn book with him, under his arm mind you, and started a whole discussion with his colleages about “Deb”  being right about black people while he was waiting for his reserved table at a local Mexican restaurant.

Then, I peeped you on C-SPAN  when you interviewed Dr. Michael Eric Dyson (By the way, how the hell did you get the gig through C-SPAN to interview Michael Eric Dyson?) about his book: “Is Bill Cosby Right?” (I’m not even going to waste my time to make a link to this bastard’s book) where he lamblasted Cosby for what has been affectionately called his “Blame the Poor Tour.” Let me drop some weight on Dyson for a minute before I get back on Debra’s round, sumptuous ass.  I met Dyson several years ago at an Alpha Kappa Alpha Boule in Orlando, FLorida where he was the Keynote  speaker. It was that day when I saw him speak before over 5000 sisters of AKA and had em’ swooning with his intellectual articulation that I had to find out more about this dude. I bought the book he was pushing at the time called: “Why I Love Black Women.” I was fascinated by this dude’s book and he was forever engraved in my mind as a solid brother - or so I thought - until he came out with that whack ass book: “Is Cosby Right?”

Now, back to you, Debra. From the way you articulated yourself in your book “The End of Blackness”, I got the impression that you would have kept Dyson in check while you interviewed him one-on-one on C-SPAN but you didn’t.  How could you let Dyson clown you on C-SPAN? He practically called you a simpleton - of  course in his own scholarly, superfluous way - but you didn’t have to let that idiot take over your gig like that.  I mean, sure, the man has vocabulary of a cybernetic organism with a titanium endoskeleton and living tissue that mimics the epidermal layer of a human being but he’s still just a man. He had you bumbling, studdering, and backtracking like you didn’t know what the hell you were doing. And to top it off, Dyson had the gall to challenge Cosby, while on C-SPAN, to a televised debate, which Cosby didn’t even acknowledge.

Then, here comes this fool, Dyson, making an appearance on one of BET’s hip hop shows spittin’ slang and talking out of his ass like a misplaced, out-of-touch old man - trying to bridge the gap between the generations through his pitifull portrayal of a lover of hip hop and it’s many positive facets (sic) and giving shout outs to his son. The hell is wrong with this grown ass, ivy league, man of the cloth, negro?  It was then that I lost all respect for this clown. Apparently, I’m not the only one that think’s Dyson is an idiot. Eventually, Dyson had to make a public apology for acting like a damn juvenile delinquent because he acted like a geriatric 50 cent.  By the way, Don’t go nowhere, Dyson. I ain’t through with your ass yet.  

Okay, back to you, Debra. Here you are talking about how black people allow themselves to succumb to “blackness” - being lazy and complacent while blaming white people for their misfortunes when you’re acting like a typical BLACK NEGRO by letting your site go unattended indefinately.  Now, Debra, baby, I know you don’t know me but I feel it is my responsibility as a fan and as a blogger to tell you that you slippin!!! Wait a minute. YOU DUN SLIPPED!!!  but I’m not going to put you on complete blast because I still love ya. You know what? I don’t even care if you never ever run across this site. I don’t care if no one cares about you. All I wanna do is tell you at least SOMEBODY cared about you for a minute.

Okay, I know I said I wasn’t going to put you on complete blast but I’m going to have to at least speak my two cents on this: Even Lashawn pointed out in her blog how PLAYED that picture is you use of yourself. Come on now, Debra. Is that the ONLY picture you have of yourself? Damn! You can do better than that. Everywhere I look there’s that ugly ass, old maid, Aunt Jemima, Little House on the Prarie, school teacher-looking hairstyle and outfit when I know I’ve seen you in person and you are fine as HELL. How you gonna play yourself like that, Debra? Okay, I’m done. I’m through. It’s nothing personal, Mrs. Dickerson. Much love to ya, Deb.