The road of life was racistly windy,
and it was racistly windy,
then one day,
every white person in the world dropped dead
so the black kings and kweens of da earf finally could unite in harmony, and they perfectly, blackly, began PBC: Perfect Black Communism. And they all greeted each other as PBC: Perfect Black Communists.
Without the poisonous influence of white devils, all PBC lived in a paradise of equality: all black people were equally black, all black men were equally tall and hung, all black women were equally fine den a mufuka, and twerked equally well; and all black people lived in houses of equal size, wore clothes and ate food of equal quality, and drove the same kind of car: the PBC Potential.
Potential had an accelerator made of Motivation, and a navigator made of Discipline.
As for maintenance of Potential: PBC hated white devil’s capitalistic model of corporate monopoly, and, in white monopoly’s stead, PBC melaninly mandated a blackly perfect duopoly — two mechanics: 1) Excuses, and 2) Response-Ability.
All PBC citizens had an equal right to choose between the two mechanics, Excuses vs Responsibility, for the maintenance of their own Potential.
Perfect Black Communism released all the prisoners from jail — all were black; all were innocent. Immediately, magically the crack dealers and black-killing black killers all became like everyone else in the all-black utopia: all brilliant, perfectly-moral scientists and ethicists.
Perfect black scientists used perfect black science to resurrect Biggie The Baptist & Tupac Christ, as well as Thugvon Martin & Mike Brown — the two patron saints of Hip-hopcracy. And the perfect black world was an eternal house party, where every black king had 72 bad-ass bitches, and every black kween had 72 ballin-ass light-skinned niggas with green eyes.
I KNO DIS BC YA BOI, DA HUMBLE NARRATOR, BE A PBC TOO MAH NIGGA, WUS HOODY WICHU DOE?
One day, far into the future of Perfect Black Communism’s eternal all-black paradise, I started buggin than a mufuka, so a nigga paused the PS20, hit that purp L, and entreated, “Ay nigga, wif all dem evil ass white devils dead than a mufuka…who be disbursing niggas they checks?”
“Nigga is u glerpin?,” replied PBC Mandela Obama King, my day 1 nigga. “Yeah, nigga is u dippy-dopping?,” agreed PBC OG Silverback, curator of the Black National Museum For The Preservation Of White People Be Lame As Fuck And Niggas Be Fresh To Def.
“Yeah, ya nigga know than a mufuka,” replied I, “that after all dem white devils died, we kings and kweens of da earf mobbed deep on da white house, painted that shits black, and created a planet of the greats…”
“Yeah, nigga!,” interrupted Spike Lee the 13th, “so stop being a blunt-hog, and let’s continue our PBC paradise of sitting around all day, doing drugs, and playing video games!!!”
“HOLD da FUK UP MAH G,” ya nigga insisted, ever more perturbed by that which I perceived as an incongruity in the consistency of PBC, Perfect Black Communism.
“Da fuck!?,” dem niggas nigga’d, countenances of contrite concern visited, now, upon their visages, as they busted in the moufs of da thots who had been topping them off.
“Now then,” sighed I, “tho wholly aware am I that PBC da shit–”
“HELL TO THE YES,” geniused the others in unison.
“CHILL NIGGAS!;” I demanded, embattled all the more: a loaded-lux-like lost nigga hypocritically talking that lost-nigga real ish, “but mah niggas…how da fuck do niggas be getting they checks if all we does is smoke, game, and sometimes try to use that lame ass Potential — but just be crashing into trees, and otha niggas and shit? How da fuck this system solvent!?”
“First of all…”
…silence, like a thot getting trained, swallowed ya boi and da team: it was PBC King Bada$$ OG Cracka Killa Jaleel White 97th, president and head nigga of PBC. “First of all,” dat noble nigga repeated, “den a mufuka!”
“Word!,” we all agreed fervently.
“MOREUNDER!!!,” dat nigga yelled capslockedly, YALL NIGGAS GOTTA OVERSTAND THAT — NIGGAS BUILT DA PYRAMIDS!!”
“DAN A mufuka!!,” we all shouted in agreement.
“AND YALL GOTTA OVERSTAND THAT NIGGAS BUILT DA PEANUT BUTTER!!!”
“TALLY HO!!,” bleated we.
“AND YALL NIGGAS GOTTA OVERSTAND THAT, AFTER ALL THE WHITE DEVILS DROPPED DEAD FROM KARMA, THE FIRST THING WE KINGS AND KWEENS OF DA EARF DID WAS USE SUPERIOR BLACK SCIENCE TO BUILD DA SELF-MAINTENANCING MACHINES DAT BE PERFECTLY, BLACKLY, ETERNALLY RUNNING DA ECONOMY — SO NOW ALL A NIGGA GOTTA DO, ALL DAY EVERY DAY, IS BLAZE!!”
“OO OO AHH AHH!!!,” howled me and the troop, flinging our poop in frenzied camaraderie.
“…and more than anything,” dat nigga began, his eyes chingy den a mufuka from da dro, as we all leaned forward intently than a mufuka…
“…y’all niggas gotta overstand that PBC be da team, and fuk dem uncle ruckus ass house niggas dat say PBC stand for ‘Perfectly Bullshit Cause’; them right wing niggas ain’t shit. We wrong wing niggas know that PBC stands for ‘Perfect Black Communism’, or at least ‘Playas wit Big Cocks’. Pause. And them right wing niggas got us wrong wing niggas fucked up when dey say we be crashing the fuck out our Potential because our Discipline need maintenance. I’m like ‘nigga I talked wif Excuses and dey said our navigation is fine, we just need to pimp out our Motivation for more accelerator’.”
Coming up: Response-ability, self-destruction, strong black kweens, and aborted niglets