Soul brother too beaucoup, too beaucoup

every once in a while i am met with the uncomfortable situation where i have to somehow convince a sweet young girl that i am not the man that the ghostwriters have built me up to be.

if you’ve ever seen the Kubrick classic “Full Metal Jacket,” perhaps you’ll remember the scene where the soldiers are being propositioned by a beautiful asian working girl who eyes up the soldiers and offers them some sweet love for fifteen dolla. When my man, “Glitter” star Dorian Harewood, reaches into his pocket for his $15, the young lady suddenly reserves the right to refuse service complaining that “soul brother too beaucoup, too beaucoup,” because we are, after all, hung like the ancient redwoods.

“8-Ball,” Harewood’s character, has to diminish the myth to the headstrong hunny, and explain that although he is quite proud of what the Lord gave him, it’s nothing to be afraid of. An unusual situation, indeed, since men can oftentimes be boastful about themselves and their majestic manliness. Luckilly 8-Ball has Stanley Kubrick writing his words.

“Excuse me, ma’am. Now what we have here little sister, is a magnificent specimen of pure Alabama blacksnake, but ain’t too goddamn beaucoup,” and with that he shows her and all is well again in Vietnam.

If only my problems were so simply solved as that. Could you imagine? Unzip, display, and all a girls troubles go away?

Recently I mustered up the courage to ask a hotter-than-most chick out. Unfortunately the discerning damsel had read this very page and replied back with a polite “no” claiming that she is sure that I ask out way too many other young women – suggesting that either she is not as special as I would imply, or that there is somehow something deficiant in me.

“Some chick thinks you go out too much?” Ashley said.


“She really doesn’t know you at all, does she?”

“Nope,” i said. “That’s one reason I want to go out with her.”

“Well she doesnt know what she’s missing, and if you went out so much, you probably wouldnt have to lie so much in your writing.”

Ashley’s just 20, but she’s sharp as a tack.

“Well, I hope she didn’t really mean that, and she just didn’t like me.” I said.

And Ashley said, “ok, enough talk about her, let’s talk about me.”

My problem is I’m lazy. And I like the idea of love at first feel– I mean sight. Sure I like the playful dance of advance and retreat and yesses and no’s and how-about-this and okay’s, but i wont chase a girl forever cuz i just dont have forever any more. and there is just soooo much on the other side.

Sonny says it’s like an analyst trying to rent a car. They’ll go to Hertz and Avis and Dollar and spend all day comparing prices and features and trying to establish trust with the counterperson, and they might even take another day to go to Alamo and Budget and some independent ones, when the fool who hopped into the car that he liked actually got to drive up the coast and explore, and tan, and eat, and sleep. But what does Sonny know?

Me, I have crime to fight. Beaucoup crime to fight. And I must give thanks to JC, for coming through on the Eleventh consecutive day. Now that, is a beaucoup Soul Brother.

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