Markie B. Moodie

Let’s Talk About It:

Can a Blind Person be Taught to be Racist or Prejudiced? Let's Get Real!

Hey there, folks! Let's dive into a juicy question: Can a blind person be taught to be racist or prejudiced? At first glance, it seems like a no-brainer - how can someone who can't see possibly understand racism and prejudice? But, hold up, it's not that simple!

The Lowdown:
Blind individuals might not see the world like we do, but they're still human, and humans are complex! They can still be influenced by the same societal norms, cultural vibes, and personal experiences that shape our beliefs and biases. So, can they be taught to be racist or prejudiced? The answer is... complicated!

Blind Individuals Speak Out:
There are blind folks who've shared their thoughts on racism and prejudice, and it's eye-opening (pun intended)! They've faced discrimination, and some have even spoken out about it. This raises questions - how did they develop these beliefs? Were they taught or socialized to think in certain ways?

Socialization is Key:
Socialization is a powerful thing! Blind individuals are exposed to the same cultural and societal norms as the rest of us. They might not see visual cues, but they can still absorb verbal and auditory messages. They can be taught or influenced by others' beliefs, attitudes, and biases through conversations, media, and more!

The Bottom Line:
So, can a blind person be taught to be racist or prejudiced? The answer is... yes and no! While they might not see it visually, they can still be influenced by the same societal forces that shape our beliefs. Let's keep it real, folks - we're all complex, and our beliefs are shaped by a mix of factors!

What do you think? Share your thoughts, and let's keep the convo going!

In the land of grown-ups, where the wild things play
There's a certain activity, that's done in a special way
It's sucking khock, with a twirl and a spin
A trick that's quite tricky, but oh so much fun within

You'll need some skill, and a tongue that's quite fine
To suck it up, and make it all mine
It's a talent, that's hard to refine
But with practice, you'll be just divine

In the land of grown-ups, where the wild things play
Sucking khock, is the game of the day
So come one, come all, and give it a try
You'll be the king, of the khock-sucking sky!

“A Bad Bitch In The Making”
A short story.

As the all-black van with heavy-tinted windows pulled up to the prestigious Beverly Hills plastic surgery center, Drake, dressed in all black with dark shades, a hoodie, and a leftover COVID-19 mask, rushed in, hoping to go incognito. He breathed a sigh of relief once inside, shedding his disguise.

Receptionist: "Hey, Aubrey! So great to see you again! You're looking...well, a little disguised today, huh?" (wink)

Drake: (laughs) "Hey, just trying to keep a low profile, you know how it is."

Receptionist: "Of course, darling! Right this way."

As he was escorted into the nurse's office, Drake couldn't help but think, "I was running through the 6 with my woes, but now I'm running from my love handles and man b***s." (chuckles to himself)

Nurse: "So, Aubrey, we're doing the 360 liposuction and ab etching today. I know you get a little sensitive before procedures, so I'll give you some alone time."

As the nurse stepped out, Drake started talking to his love handles and back fat: "Yo, guys, it's time to go. You're holding me back...literally."

Suddenly, his stomach love handles and man b***s started a rap battle:

Love Handles: "Yo, Drake, you're a sellout, going under the knife,
Instead of working with us, you're trying to deny,
The real you, the one with the extra flab,
You're trying to be a bad bitch, but it's just not fab!"

Drake: "Hold up, hold up, I got something to say,
I'm trying to upgrade, get a new physique today,
I'm not a sellout, I'm just trying to improve,
Get a six-pack, not a keg, you know what I prove!"

Just as the rap battle was heating up, the nurse walked back in, oblivious to the exchange: "Okay, Aubrey, time for prep! Let's get you ready for surgery."

As the anesthesia kicked in, the nurse said, "Count down from 10, sweetie."

Drake started counting: "10...I want to be a bad bitch...9...I want to be a bad bitch...8...I want to be a bad bitch..."

Markie's masterful massage manipulates his marvelous marbles, making many mesmerized by his manual machinations.

Big Back Bobby was walking down the street
He didn't know what to do, so he bit into a wing
Big Back Bobby was walking down the street
He didn't know what to do, so he bit into a wing
I said, "Get on Bobby, eat them wings, eat them wings, eat them wings!"
I said, "Get on Bobby, eat them wings, eat them wings, don't stop!

What’s the difference between a cactus and a school bus?

The cactus has all the little pricks on the outside. 

What’s the vibe this summer? ME BITCH!
Catch me at an Air Conditioner near you.

I don't know who needs to hear this, but if you're only dating someone and they're asking you to put them on your life insurance policy, run. Don't walk. Find someone who loves you for you, not for your money. And if you're thinking of putting bleach in my coffee, just know that I'll be watching you, and I ain't afraid to call the cops. Don't get caught slippin'.

The 4/20 Chronicles: Markie and Raven the Rager

It was a chill afternoon in the Boogie Down Bronx, and I was sittin' pretty on my recliner, puffin' on my purple pipe and sippin' coffee like it was goin' outta style. I was watchin' some Geographic vids about animals that could talk like humans, thinkin' to myself, "Damn, that's some cool stuff right there." When suddenly, I hear this voice comin' from the window, sayin', "Yo, what's good, Markie?"

I look over and see this Raven bird perched on the ledge, lookin' all cool and whatnot. I'm like, "Ahh, damn, you can talk?"

"Yeah, bruh, I'm Raven the Rager, nice to meet you," he says, flappin' his wings like a boss.

I'm mind-blown, but I'm also excited 'cause it's 4/20 and I got a new homie to celebrate with. "Yo, Raven, you wanna come in and join me for some coffee and cannabis?" I ask, gesturin' to the couch.

Raven the Rager hops in and we get to smokin' and sippin' together like old friends. He starts tellin' me 'bout his wild adventures as a raven pimp, how he used to run the skies, lovin' and leavin' all the female birds. He's like, "Man, I loved 'em all, but I knew I couldn't make no babies, so I had to keep it movin'."

I'm like, "Damn, Raven, that's cold." But he's just shrugs and says, "Hey, it's the life of a raven pimp. You gotta keep it real."

He tells me 'bout the time he got with this parrot and she claimed she was pregnant, but Raven was like, "Nah, I ain't the daddy, I know you been with other birds, girl." She got all mad and flapped her wings in his face, but Raven just laughed and said, "You can't tie me down, baby."

I'm dyin' laughin', thinkin', "Damn, bird drama's real." I ask him, "Yo, Raven, is it true y'all get drunk off fermented fruit?"

Raven the Rager lets out a loud squawk, "Oh, hell yeah, bruh, that's how I lost my ex-wife, a beautiful owl! I got too tipsy off that apple juice and kissed her sister... man, that was a mess!"

We both bust out laughin', and I'm like, "Damn, Raven, you got some stories, foo'!"

Raven the Rager's like, "Yeah, man, I been around. But for real, it's good to be back in the Bronx, where the real birds at."

We keep gettin' higher and higher, and I'm like, "Yo, Raven, what's the deal with the bird world? I heard there's some drama goin' on."

Raven the Rager lets out a loud squawk, "Oh, man, where do I even start? Alright, let's go to Pelham Bay Park, and I'll fill you in on all the tea."

We head to the park, and Raven the Rager starts tellin' me about the beef between the ravens and the crows and the pigeons. "See, Markie, the pigeons think they're all high and mighty, but they ain't got nothin' on us ravens and crows. We're the ones who run the skies, not them pesky pigeons."

I'm like, "Damn, that's deep. What about the seagulls and the parrots? I heard they're gettin' a little too friendly."

Raven the Rager lets out a sly chuckle, "Oh, man, those two? They think they're sneakin' around, but everybody knows what's goin' on. They're gettin' freaky, and now there's all these mixed-breed baby birds poppin' up everywhere. It's like, we see you, seagulls and parrots! We ain't blind!"

I'm dyin' laughin', thinkin', "Damn, bird drama's real." I'm glad I met Raven the Rager, and I know we're gonna have some more wild adventures together.

As we're leavin' the park, Raven the Rager turns to me and says, "You know, Markie, the bird world's got its own rules, but at the end of the day, we all just tryin' to live our best lives. And if that means gettin' a little messy, so be it."

I'm like, "Ahh, hell yeah, Raven, you're a real one."

And with that, we head back to my crib, ready to keep the good times rollin' and the bird drama flowin'!









#420

Most prudes are just sneaky hoes.

Stop lookin' to social media personalities for relationship gumidance. If they had the solutions, they'd be in a healthy relationship, not just a viral moment.

It's important to acknowledge that some people see us as their go-to source for amusement, rather than as genuine friends.

Idc how many times you introduce ya self to me if i dont remember you we never met 🥴🤷🏽‍♂️

The Queen of LA in the Bronx

Karen woke up early, feeling like a queen as she stretched her arms and legs. She yawned and tossed her hair over her shoulder, ready to take on the day. She got dressed and grabbed her trusty Stanley Cup, which was always filled with extra hard, strawberry, kiwi, White Claw hard seltzer. She took a sip as she headed out the door, ready to tackle the morning commute. First stop: Starbucks. Karen pulled up to the drive-through and ordered her usual venti-sized coffee with extra foam, extra syrup, and a dash of cinnamon on top. But as she waited for her coffee, she noticed that the barista seemed to be taking her sweet time. "Come on, can't you see I'm busy?" Karen snapped, tapping her fingers impatiently on the steering wheel. The barista, a sassy and confident black woman named Samantha, smiled sweetly. "I'm doing my best, ma'am. I promise your coffee will be ready in just a minute." Karen huffed. "Well, it better be. I don't have all day to sit here waiting for my coffee." Samantha chuckled. "I understand, ma'am. But sometimes things take a little longer than expected. Can I offer you a pastry to go with your coffee?" Karen rolled her eyes. "No, I don't want a pastry. I just want my coffee. And make sure it's made right, or I'll be leaving a review." Samantha nodded. "I understand, ma'am. I'll make sure your coffee is perfect." But as Karen waited for her coffee, she couldn't help but feel a sense of annoyance. She checked her phone and saw that she was running a few minutes late for work. She tapped her fingers impatiently on the steering wheel, willing the barista to hurry up. Finally, Samantha handed Karen her coffee. "Here you go, ma'am. Enjoy your day." Karen took a sip of her coffee and immediately spat it out. "This is disgusting!" she exclaimed. "You got it all wrong!" Samantha apologized and offered to remake the coffee, but Karen was already fuming. She pulled over to the side of the road and grabbed her phone, determined to leave a scathing review on Yelp, Facebook, Twitter, and TikTok. As she arrived at the office, Karen was still fuming about her coffee. She stormed through the door, not noticing the janitor mopping the floor. "Hey, watch out for the wet floor!" the janitor called out, but Karen wasn't listening. She didn't see the wet floor signs or the janitor's warning. She just kept walking, her heels clicking on the floor. And then, suddenly, Karen's feet flew out from under her. She felt herself falling, but she couldn't stop it. She hit her head on the Stanley Cup, which was still in her hand, and everything went black. When Karen woke up, she found herself in a hospital bed, surrounded by unfamiliar faces. She looked around, trying to make sense of her surroundings. "Where am I?" Karen demanded, trying to sit up. A nurse rushed to her side, helping her back onto the bed. "You're in Coñazo Hospital, dear. You were brought in after a fall." Karen's eyes widened in shock. "A fall? What are you talking about?" The nurse smiled patiently. "You slipped and fell on a wet floor. You must have hit your head pretty hard." Karen shook her head, trying to clear the fog. "But...but I was at work. I was on my way to my desk." The nurse looked at her confused. "Work? Desk? I think you might be confused, dear. You're in the Bronx, New York." Karen's eyes nearly popped out of her head. "What? How did I get here?" Just then, Markie walked into the room. "Hey, girl! I heard you were awake," he said, approaching Karen's bed. Karen's eyes fixed on him, her mind racing. "Who are you? And how did I get here?" Markie smiled. "I'm Markie, your new friend from the Bronx! I found you passed out on the street and brought you to the hospital." Karen's face contorted in disbelief. "I don't understand. I was in LA, and then I was here?" Markie shrugged. "I don't know, girl. But you're here now. And I'm here to help you." As Karen was discharged from the hospital, Markie took her to his apartment in the Vietnam Housing projects. Karen was shocked by the towering buildings and the bustling streets. "This is where you live?" she asked, her voice laced with disbelief. Markie nodded. "Yeah, girl. This is home." As they approached the building, Karen noticed a group of people loitering outside, drinking and laughing loudly. She wrinkled her nose in distaste. "What's going on here?" she asked Markie, her voice laced with disdain. "Can't they see I'm trying to recover from a head injury?" Markie chuckled. "This is just the neighborhood, girl. People like to socialize outside." Karen shook her head, her eyes scanning the scene. "I don't know how you can live like this." As they entered the building, Karen was hit with the smell of urine and mold. She covered her nose, her eyes watering. "What's that smell?" Markie shrugged. "Just the building, girl. It's not the Ritz." The elevator was small and cramped, with graffiti covering the walls. Karen's eyes widened as she saw a puddle of urine on the floor. "Oh my god, is that...?" Markie nodded. "Yeah, someone had an accident. Don't worry, it's not a big deal." Karen's face was a mixture of disgust and horror. "This is disgusting!" As they reached Markie's apartment, Karen was greeted by Marty, Markie's feisty little Poodle. Marty growled and barked at Karen, showing his teeth. "Hey, Marty, chill out," Markie said, laughing. "This is Karen, my new friend." Karen hesitated, unsure of what to make of Marty's aggressive behavior. "Hi, Marty," she said tentatively, holding out her hand for the dog to sniff. Marty sniffed her hand, then growled and barked again. Markie chuckled. "Don't worry, girl, he's just playing. He's a feisty one, that's for sure." After settling in for a bit, Markie suggested they head to the Bodega to grab some snacks. Karen agreed, eager to explore this new world. As they entered the Bodega, Karen's eyes widened in shock. The shelves were stocked with unfamiliar foods, and the air was thick with the smell of spices and meat. "What's that smell?" Karen asked, wrinkling her nose in distaste. Markie chuckled. "Just the usual Bodega smells, girl. You'll get used to it." Karen's eyes fixed on the Bodega cat, who was lounging in the sunbeams that streamed through the window. "Ugh, what's with the cat? Can't they keep it clean in here?" Markie shrugged. "The cat's part of the Bodega experience, girl. Don't worry about it." Karen approached the counter, ready to place her order. "I'll have the Jennifer Lopez special, please," she said, trying to sound confident. The Bodega worker raised an eyebrow. "Ham and cheese on a roll, orange drink, and a small bag of chips?" Karen nodded eagerly. "Yes, that's right!" The worker rolled his eyes. "Okay, anything else, Jenny not from the block?" Karen's eyes widened in indignation. "Hey, I'm just trying to fit in!" Markie chuckled, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry, girl, we'll get you sorted out." As they walked back to Markie's apartment, Karen noticed a smoke shop along the way. "Hey, what's that place?" she asked Markie, her curiosity piqued. "Oh, it's just a smoke shop," Markie replied nonchalantly. "Want to come in with me?" Karen hesitated for a moment, but her curiosity got the best of her. She followed Markie into the shop, where she was immediately hit with the pungent smell of incense and ci******es. Markie greeted the shop owner, a friendly older man with a thick accent, and they chatted for a bit while Karen browsed the shelves. She was surprised to see all sorts of paraphernalia, including b**gs, pipes, and v**e pens. "What's all this stuff?" Karen asked Markie, her eyes wide with surprise. Markie chuckled. "Just some smoking accessories, girl. You know, for w**d and stuff." Karen's eyes widened even further. "W**d? You mean like, ma*****na?" Markie nodded. "Yeah, that's the stuff. It's legal here in NYC, you know." Karen's jaw dropped. "Legal? I had no idea!" Markie laughed. "Yeah, times have changed, girl. Now, let's get some w**d and White Claws and head back to my place." After a quick refill of Karen's Stanley Cup, they headed back to Markie's apartment. As they settled in, Karen couldn't help but feel a sense of culture shock. Everything was so different from what she was used to in LA. But despite the initial shock, she was determined to make the best of it. She took a sip of her White Claw and leaned back on the couch, trying to relax.

RIP to O.J. Simpson the first black man to ever beat the system.


Yo, wassup! It's What's Poppin' Wednesday! Markie's sippin' on his Markie Mocha and gettin' his day started in the Bronx! How about you? What's poppin' in your world today? Share your Wednesday vibes with Markie!

Markie woke up feelin' like a brand new person, ready to tackle the day with a spring in his step and a swing in his hips. First, he hit the shower and got his coco brown skin glistening like a freshly waxed surfboard. He moisturized his skin like a boss, makin' sure he was hydrated and ready to slay the day like a hungry stripper on a pole.

Next, he brushed his teeth, gettin' that fresh breath, and ran a comb through his bed head hair, lookin' like a whole new man - or at least a slightly less hungover version of himself.

Then, he headed to the kitchen to whip up his signature coffee concoction, The Markie Mocha. He mixed up some Bustelo Café coffee, Swissmiss hot cocoa mix, and condensed milk like a pro, creatin' the perfect blend to fuel his day of shenanigans.

With his coffee in hand, Markie settled into his throne, the recliner, and tuned into Miss Jones in the Morning on 94.7 The Block. He was ready to dish on some celebrity gossip and hear the latest tea - or at least the latest rumors about P Diddy's alleged jail time for Rico charges. When they started talkin' about P Diddy's possible stint in the slammer, Markie had to chime in. He called the radio show and shared his two cents, "Yo, Miss Jones, it's Markie! P Diddy better watch his back, or he'll be droppin' it like it's hot in a whole new way - in the prison showers, yo!"

After gettin' his gossip fix, Markie switched to the news to stay woke about the 2024 presidential elections. He couldn't believe the shade Donald Trump was throwin' at Joe Biden - it was like a sorority catfight, but with more tweets and less actual sense. "This dude is delusional!" Markie shouted at the TV, "He's gotta be sniffin' that covfefe again!"

As he sipped his coffee, Markie took a break to people-watch out his window, watchin' the Bronx come to life like a raunchy reality TV show. He loved seein' the hustle and bustle of the city - and the occasional catcaller gettin' shut down by a sassy New Yorker.

Just as he was gettin' comfortable, Markie remembered the eclipse was happenin' that afternoon. He couldn't wait to see the conspiracy theorists in their tin foil hats, actin' like they knew what was up - or at least pretendin' to, while secretly wonderin' if aliens were gonna abduct them and probe their booties. "Gonna be a whole buncha crazies out there today," Markie chuckled to himself, "but hey, at least it'll be entertaining!”.

Markie and B-Boy were vibin' on a lazy Sunday in Markie's Penthouse pad in the Boogie Down Bronx. B-Boy, the eccentric Dominican dude, suggested, "Yo, Besty, let's rip the rubber ducky b**g and watch some old Señora Laura episodes, fam! We need some trashy talk show drama in our lives, ¡ay caramba!"

Markie laughed, "You know I ain't gonna understand what they're sayin', B-Boy, I'm as lost as a Dominican in a vegan restaurant...with a gluten allergy!"

B-Boy replied, "Don't worry, Besty! I got the translation skills, ¡yo soy el rey de la traducción! My abuela used to watch this show, I know the tea, ¡la verdad! And if I don't know the words, I'll just make 'em up, ¡improvisación, baby!"

After a few hits, they were both hella high. B-Boy started translating the show for Markie, "Ay, Besty, listen! Señora Laura saying that Pablo's mistress is trying to sabotage his marriage, ¡esa mujer es un problema, she's more drama than a Kardashian on a reality show!"

Markie, giggling uncontrollably, replied, "B-Boy, you're like a Spanish soap opera whisperer, but more like a whispering, dramatic, sassy Dominican auntie with a bad weave!"

B-Boy, in his flamboyant flair, responded, "¡Eso es nada, Besty! I'm just using my Dominican powers to break down the language barrier, ¡viva la República Dominicana! And if Señora Laura throws one more drink, I'll throw my own, ¡yo tambien tengo líquido...and a few choice words for that messy mistress!"

As they watched, B-Boy continued his colorful commentary, "Oh snap, Señorita Santos just threw her drink on Don Pedro's new mistress! ¡Escándalo, ese mujer es una loca, she needs her own show, 'The Crazy Mistress'...or a psych eval!"

Markie burst out laughing, "B-Boy, you're the best translator ever, ¡el mejor traductor del mundo! You should get a Nobel Prize in Trashy Talk Show Translation, ¡el Premio Nobel de la Traducción de Basura!"

B-Boy proudly declared, "¡Gracias, Besty! My abuela would be proud, ¡mi abuela estaría orgullosa! She'd say, '¡Este muchacho es un rey, un traductor de reyes...and a few queens'!"

The two continued their hilarious commentary, totally lost in their stoned world of Señora Laura, rubber ducky b**g rips, and trashy talk show drama, creating their own ratchet and wild storyline, "¡La Historia de Markie y B-Boy, los Reyes del Melodrama y la Basura!

I am a 36-year-old gay man, of course I take bubble baths on wacky Wednesdays. 

Last night I had Chipotlé and now I’m stuck sh****ng lava out my ass. 💩 🔥 🚽

Got a secret for ya - there's a treehouse in Manhattan, and it's open to the public! 🌳🏠 Located in the 6BC Garden in the East Village, this hidden gem is a real-life fairytale come true! 🎨📚 Climb up, and you'll find a peaceful spot to chill, read a book, or just vibe with nature in the midst of the concrete jungle! 🌆🌱 Volunteer-run and donation-based, this spot's a true NYC treasure! 💚 So, go ahead, find your inner child, and check it out! Just remember, it's a secret, so keep it on the low, aight? 🤫👀

https://secretnyc.co/secret-treehouse-in-manhattan/ There’s A Secret Treehouse Tucked Away In The Middle Of Manhattan

There’s A Secret Treehouse Tucked Away In The Middle Of Manhattan You're newest hideaway, a secret treehouse in Manhattan, can be found covered by twisting trees in the depths of a community garden.

I’m NOT a fan of Beyoncé’s version of Joleen. Maybe it has to grow on me but I doubt it. ́

I don’t trust parents who let any and everyone around there children when dating. Especially if they’re trying to force someone to be a parent figure. It’s super cringy. That says to me that you don’t respect your children and only cares about what benefits you and the situation. 

What’s the difference between the refrigerator and a butt hole?

The refrigerator doesn’t fart when you pull the meat out. 😂 🍆