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via my best friend gayle by summer of sam on 5/3/10I've grown suspicious of Sandra Bullock. And by "suspicious" I mean she's annoying the fuck out of me. Inspired by such pestilence, I'm thinking of starting a Youtube show called Summer M.'s Most Wanted wherein I become internet famous by videotaping myself hating on celebrities who do things I find aggravating--like adopting black babies and then publicizing it. I could do my best John Walsh imitation ("...and remember, you too can make a difference."), get some of the homies to re-enact the "crimes," and use one of these programs on my computer to make up rap sheets with fake mug shots of said celebrities. My pilot episode would include segments on Tyler Perry,
Let me make sure I'm understanding all of this correctly. Sandra Bullock begins 2010 by winning several awards, including an Oscar, for her role in The Blind Side, a movie I refused to see, but that my homegirl, Rachel certified as racist. (**SPOILER ALERT** Apparently, the final, humorous and heartwarming scene involves white girls on the quad at the University of Mississippi and a joke about castration. Yes, I feel warm inside, too. Must have been the strange fruit I just ate--
The question, of course, becomes: when did Sandra know? Not about the other women, but rather that her partner was such a "history buff" that he liked to don Nazi drag and fetishized swastikas. I've never been married, but my guess is stuff like that comes up during the dating phase, some time after discovering your partner can quote The Love Boat in the way others cite Biggie lyrics--or organizes her toenail clippings before discarding them--but before you all start the process of adopting a black baby. Surely, it had to have come up before any brooms were jumped. Which brings me to my point: How is this not the most egregious public relations stunt of the year? Badu taking off her clothes on her way to the grassy knoll wasn't for publicity. Sandra Bullock and her black baby on the cover of People Magazine in the immediate aftermath of news that her soon-to-be-ex-husband is an alleged neo-Nazi? Now that's publicity. Talk about damage control.
I don't want to have beef with Sandra Bullock, but it seems inevitable. And it's not because she makes really crappy movies. I vaguely remember tolerating 28 Days one (pre-Netflix) Blockbuster night, and I think I accidentally saw The Net like twice. But between this magazine cover and the idea that we're supposed to believe the lie that Bullock started the process of adopting a black baby four years ago is offensive. The only thing harder to give away than a black baby is a Toyota. If you feign interest in adopting a little Negro, they'll throw two in the back seat or your Prius faster than you can say "Mister Bojangles." Soon enough, Bullock will be on her way to sainthood as the gossip mill deifies her for her single motherhood, an act that, if Bullock were black, would garner nothing beyond a Kanye shrug or head shakes. But that's not why I hate her. Sandra is on my most wanted list because she took my advice without giving me credit. I mean, she literally saved a Negro, carefully took each step I outlined in an earlier blog inspired by seeing trailers for The Blind Side. I want my shout out, and I want it now.
Remember my advice?
Steps 1 and 2. Pick a pathology/disaster? Check. Little Louis Bardo Bullock is from New Orleans, and Lord knows that city has seen enough devastation. (F R E E L I L W A Y N E ! ! ! !)
Step 3. Adopt a boy? Yep. Little black girls still aren't trendy. Orphan black boys sell like Snuggies.
Step 4. Does this new baby have some value? Damn right he does. The first Barbara Walters interview after the ink has dried on Bullock-James divorce decree will wreak of, "If I didn't have Louis..." or "When I see Louis' face in the morning" blahblahblah. Besides, my guess is People paid a real pretty penny for that picture and the exclusive interview.
Step 5. Race has nothing to do with it? That's right. It's my fault for harping on the fact that Bullock adopted a little black boy. No one even thought to say, "Hey, Sandra, this white supremacist husband story is a total buzz kill, but talking about your new black baby will make everybody forget about that shit," until I did just now. Sandra doesn't even think in terms of race or racial inequality. When
Poor little Louis. Is there such a thing as a reverse adoption, or do you have to be Russian for that to happen? Can we at least get even? Get Will and Jada to adopt a white crack baby? Should we beg Courtney B. Vance to use some of that FlashForward money to adopt an orphan from Appalachia to add to the Bassett-Vance brood?
At the very least I want some damn credit. I gave Sandy a step-by-step guide to making her life meaningful by adopting black babies, and I don't even get a terrorist fist bump or a nod in People. I would have returned the gesture. Sent her a So You've Adopted a Black Baby Kit full of Blue Magic, Vaseline, kente cloth diapers, and Brangelina's cell numbers. I probably would've thrown in some Soul Train DVDs and a box set of Negro spirituals; I would have offered her a temporary hood pass until we could process her application. I ain't unappreciative. But now? Game over. I'd sue Sandy if I could. She better stop reading my blog, though. And she better not call me--or my mama-- when Louis's hair goes from newborn good to nappy.
You're on your own, Sandy. You're (off) on your own.