Mattiesko’s Overtly Racist Christmas Special 2010: A Black Christmas!

25 12 2009

Happy Christmas, all.  Just a few days ago, I was just searching through the many ancient documents on my computer, when I happened to come across probably the most racist thing I’ve ever concocted.  If I concocted it, that is.  Truth be told, I have no idea where this came from or how it got on my computer, but I’m the only one who has it and no matter how I got my hands on this gem, I can’t pass up posting it here, especially on Christmas, so without further ado, here it is unabridged and unedited, I’m Dreaming of a Black Christmas, straight from the depths of my hard drive.

(Note: I actually did add the pictures/captions, but nothing else was changed).


Today I will tell you a Christmas story that takes places in the Johnson household in downtown Compton.  Young Tyrell checked back over his Christmas list to make sure he hadn’t missed something: a basketball, a giftcard to Popeye’s Chicken, “Soul Plane” on DVD, a bicycle, a ghetto blaster (or “boombox” for you honkies), an XXXXL Mac Dre tall tee from that mall kiosk that’s run by a smelly Persian guy, stunna shades, and a pack of menthols.  He hastily scribbled at the very bottom of the list “gum surgery” then sealed his letter to Santa and slipped it into his dad’s bulletproof wall-safe.

Downstairs little Keisha was also reviewing her list: an insta-weave, a pair of sweatpants that said “BOOTY” on the ass, the collector’s edition DVD boxset of “Roots”, anal lube, and a grill that had her boyfriend’s name, Jamal DeAndre, on it.  Just then their daddy, DeQuan, kicked down their shoddy ghetto door with two empty 40s in his hands.  He jutted his huge nigga lips into the open mouth of his pregnant wife, Ebony, and asked in a gruff voice “YO MY LITTLE NIGGAS WHERE BE YO CRUNKMAS LISTS, DADDY’S GOIN’ DOWNTOWN TO GET YO BITCH-ASSES SOME PRESENTS.”  He then smashed a bottle against the wall and flashed a gang sign at Ebony.


based on a true nigga!

“Damn, pa!” exclaimed Tyrell in his adorable 8 year-old niglet voice as he handed him the lists, “we got ’em right here . . . hey how come mommy don’t get no presents?”

Ebony z-snapped in DeQuan’s face and said “Yeah DeQuan how come I ain’t gonna get no presents!  I want me some fine-ass Obama stickers for my Honda!”

and who wouldn't?

“GET OFF MY ASS BITCH,” said a clearly high DeQuan “I AIN’T GETTIN’ YOU NO PRESENT ‘CUZ YO TITTY MILK IS SOUR AS FUCK . . . BITCH!”  Tears welled up in little Keisha’s eyes and DeQuan said in a more calm tone “I’ght i’ght I’m sorry my little brown sugga baby, don’t cry.  Daddy’s gonna go hit up the Walmart before all the good shit get’s stolen.”  Then DeQuan tucked his Beretta into the crotch of his sweatpants and drove off in his lowered Escalade, bumping Tupac.

At the store DeQuan loaded a cart with the finest ghetto shit a nigga could ask for; he got everything on his kids’ lists and a little something extra for himself (a twelve-pack of dew rags, and a set of 30” spinna rims for his “pimp-mobile”).  At the self-checkout station, DeQuan got in line behind a home-boy decked out in all blue; he was a crip from downtown.  DeQuan casually pulled out his switch, screamed “Ckrab what’s up?!  BLOODS FO’ LIFE, BITCHES, WHAT’S UP?!” and then shanked a mothafucka.  The dead crip fell to the ground, and then DeQuan socked the nearest attendee and felt up them big ‘ol titties.  He walked out the door, but before he reached his car, he quickly ran back in to the chaotic scene saying “shit son, I forgot to buy diapers for the new baby.”  He grabbed a pack of diapers, and on the way out the door he further explained, “I fucked my wife, yo.”

all the commotion probably had little effect.

When he reached his Escalade there was a ticket on the window, that said he owed the county $400 dollars for parking in a handicapped spot.  DeQuan fell to his knees and shouted to the heavens: “FUCK THE POOLLIIIIIICCEEEE!!!!!!!”

. . . To be continued?


So there you have it.  A mysterious sonnet of stereotypes, origins unknown, in celebration of the season to be jolly.  However, this is a promising start for a new tradition.  In years to come I may attempt to top this saga of sectarianism, but only time can tell.  Until then, happy holidays.

this MIGHT be the most racist thing ever, but on the other hand, i also found a file called Mexican Star Wars.



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