Bitches and Hoes

Nicky prompted me with "Bitches and Hoes." What is disappointing about this prompt is that she doesn't even remember the whole statement. To think I spent a better part of my adolescence chanting this misogynistic mantra and she doesn't have the decency to remember the whole statement, how bitchy and hoeish is that? The whole statement was, "Bitches and Hoes better pay the man!"

"Bitches and hoes" meant many things to me. Obviously, it was a call for bitches and hoes to fulfill their fiscal responsibility. It also provided me with a convenient way to fill silence. Most importantly, like all of my "maxioms" (cause I don't believe they qualify as axioms), it got funnier each time I said it, thus fulfilling the "repetition is the the key to learning" standard I carefully crafted for Nicky's edification.

The Bitches and Hoes mantra, like all my repetitive statements, had contextual powers that provided me cover for cruelty, boredom, and insecurity. How can you stay mad at somebody when all they say is, "Bitches and Hoes better pay the man"? If that didn't make Nicky happy, I could always whip out, "The Girls swing on my jock, you see!" or "Repent for your sins against your lord," or "'Fraid not my feline friend!"

As I have aged, I have crafted special statements for all the people in my life. It is my gift. I remember Karen and I singing, "Friend or Foe let me know or else this relationship will never grow" in our adulthood. To build a deeper relationship with my family I shared my "I have feelings and emotions" mantra. When I was 29 I went to complete stranger's New Year's Party and pretended to be a record producer for MC GOLIS' debut album More Original than the Aboriginal. When I wanted my friends to keep throwing disc with me, I tried to keep it entertaining by screaming ABC's one-hit rap wonder "Ieasha!" with every throw or I would go on about "Taking it to the next level" which eventually got whittled down to "elevation!" Somehow my friends tolerated and actually embraced these statements. I still bust out, "These guns stormed Normandy." When nobody is around I can't resist rapping my sixth grade classic, "My name Margolis, my look that of Ralph Lauren, the ladies are on their knee before I utter the word bend," which brings me back to my two current mantras, "Thorry!" and "Please Help Me!" Perhaps I have some form of tourettes. Anyway, Sesame Street is ending, I will explore this further soon.

A prompt for all my bitches and hoes: What is your favorite Maxiom and how has it changed your life?