Ask Blognigger: Coloreds in the Theater

Astute reader White Quiet Riot writes:

Date: Tue, Jun 3, 2008 at 7:09 AM

Subject: Dear Blognigger

To: Blog Ngr 

Dear BN,

I marched my ass off to the Sex and The City premier this weekend, and I would have had a totally tubular time if it wasn't for one thing: a group of black women sitting behind me who didn't quite get the memo that they should be using their "inside voices" in the motherfucking movie theater.  I swear to you, these four chicks were having a full on conversation (replete with tongue clucking, screaming laughter, and knee slapping), at full freakin' volume, during the whole damn movie.  I tried turning around and going the dirty look route, and that just produced a buzz of low level whispering and "mmm hmmms" that, quite frankly, scared the living shit out of me.  

Can you please tell me, once and for all, what the eff is up with black women and talking loudly in movie theaters!? Is there some sort of cultural thing going on here that I'm missing? Also, are there any tips you can give me for me for dealing with this sort thing in the future that won't result in me getting my ass kicked all up and down the popcorn strewn aisle?  

Help!

Sincerely,

White Quiet Riot.

Man, fuck Gawker son; now I know I've arrived! Just one year ago, it was beyond my wildest dreams to think that a white girl would someday email me and ask me to publicly break down the dilly on this all-time-classic conundrum. God bless America.

Ok, White Quiet Riot - say, that's a mouthful - you don't mind if I call you "Katie" instead, do you? Ah Katie - my favorite white girl name. 

Ok Katie, here's the deal.  Newsflash: Ignorant blacks are VERY FUCKING LOUD in movie theaters. Whether it's cultural and somehow dates back to oral tradition, I don't know, and I don't really give a fuck. They are loud because they are ignorant, and they enjoy making damn fools of themselves especially if it fucks everything up for you and your white friends. Pissing you off is not why they do it, but it's one hell of a bonus.

Now that being said, I have to point out that for your convenience, the types of movies that ignorant blacks attend are generally those in which LOUD IGNORANT AUDIENCE PARTICIPATION is the least disruptive. For example, I would think that having some dumb black bitches in the theater shouting at Carrie Bradshaw might make the experience that much more enjoyable, no? I mean really - what exactly was their ruckus distracting you from? Juxtaposing Fellini's postwar neorealism with the cinematic context of Miranda's twat?

I'm afraid you'd have a better argument if the film you were experiencing was more demanding of silence and a clear head - and the point is that you're safe in those cases since the colored geniuses wouldn't be caught dead spending blunt money on such heady bullshit anyway.

If they did follow you into those movies though, that would be some funny shit:

On The Waterfront: 

"Oh SHIT that nigga say he been in contenda pooky!"

Rain Man: 

"Bitch please how the boy gonna count up all that toothpick?!"

Shindler's List:

"Oh you cou stay off the train girl you know that nigga have you on his liss!"

You get the idea.

Finally, when it comes to actually confronting the coloreds, Katie, my general advice is don't.  It's true that like little bitch terriers, they bark loud and almost never have switchblades- but why start pressing your luck. 

In all seriousness, far more likely than causing them to shank you, a direct confrontation is liable to provoke them into what sociologists call the Probe n' Drill formation - an attack maneuver in which they focus on whatever physical feature you are most insecure about and then proceed to loudly and repeatedly call attention to it for all bystanders to study.

(One time I was on a subway and some poor white woman accidentally bumped her purse into a crazed black woman's arm - though the terrified white woman immediately said excuse me and apologized profusely, it was too late! The ignorant black woman launched immediately into Probe n' Drill formation, and after a quick but efficient perusal of the white woman's physical person, shouted at the top of her lungs "No no, excuse ME -- witcha wrinkled face; WRINKLED FACE! WRINKLED FACE! WRINKLED FACE! WRINKLED FACE!"

During this hellish incantation, commuters in the subway car casually peered up from their newspapers to perform their own cursory assessment of the victim's attribute in question. The woman's face wasn't even particularly 'wrinkled' but she still probably commit suicide later that afternoon.)

But we all digress. In summary, the answer to your question is a simple one:  Zipcar / Connecticut / Whites-only movie theater. 

Warm regards,

Blognigger.