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Monthly Archives: December 2009

He was so cute on Kenan & Kel, but we guess some black folks can’t resist coonin’ for the man. And when that man in Saturday Night Live‘s Lorne Michaels, black actors get seriously coonerific.

A repost from Racialicious on Kenan’s misogynistic and, ultimately, wholly unoriginal depiction of black women.

Seriously, don’t black men ever get tired of clowin’ black women in a sad attempt to advance their careers in the patriarchy?


Huh. Sad.


BUNA’s resident Technista likes this parody of blackness:

Some might say it’s classist. BUNA say, “Bahahaha!”

It should follow, right, that if one can be “cured” of being gay that one can be cured of being black, no? If so, please, please, please, Jesus, Yaweh, Zeus or whomever one deems almighty (Madonna, Oprah): make Caleb Brundidge not black.

Why is BUNA trying to disown this man and mandating that all staff be shorn of their dreadlocks? Because Caleb is the front line for the hateful homophobes peddling their warped “psychology” that one can un-learn being gay to the diabolic forces behind the bill to seek out/punish/persecute/murder people for being gay in Uganda. Caleb spoke at an “ex-gay” conference in Uganda on behalf of the International Healing Foundation and helped lay the foundations for Uganda’s anti-homosexuality bill.

The bill requires people to tattle on people they think might be gay or face jail time. Nooo, that’s not a recipe for spitefulness! The bill also offers life imprisonment for anyone caught having gay sex. Does this include straight people doing anal?

The white religious hypocrites who’ve been peddling this mess to different African nations are now all, like, “Oh, wait! We didn’t mean for you to KILL anyone who we decide is unclean and sinful. We just meant you should pray for those we falsely and erroneously accuse of diddling children. Erm…amen!” Surely, they don’t need folks like Caleb coonin’ and being their minstrelsy frontman?

BUNA also has a visceral reaction to the name “Caleb” thanks to Joss Whedon and Nathan Fillion’s brilliant, evil character of the same name on Buffy. Hey! If crazy fundies make basic-ass claims that one can pray to some invisible force in the sky not to be gay, BUNA can make similarly basic-ass links between bad TV characters and bad emissaries of homophobia in true life.

There’s a protest rally at the Ugandan High Commission on Thursday, 10 December from 12-2pm in London. Now if only that opportunist, racist and suppressor of academic freedom Peter Tatchell weren’t scheduled to speak. With friends like him, who needs enemies? BUNA will write their MP instead.

Undoubtedly, when BUNA clambers into the company Yugo and heads for the local cinema in the ‘hood, we expect, nay, we demand to have a fully interactive audience. Call-and-response is not lost on us. Horror movie? Shouts of “run, bitch” better ring from the rafters like a rousing chorus of “Lift Ev’ry Voice and Sing” on Juneteenth.

But when we pay upwards of £30 for tickets to see, not one, not two, but THREE of Black America’s best and brightest trod the boards, directed by another of Black America’s luminaries in London’s typically lilywhite West End BLACK FOLKS NEED TO LEARN TO SHUT THE HELL UP.

Does my ticket say, “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof…Location: Teron and Teshawn’s Living Room?” No, it says “You are in a public space, so stop talking because you are not cute, unwrap your loud-ass candy at the intermission, and turn your phone off.” Nothing like a little T.I. ringtone interlude to break the mood.

It was some straight-up, country-ass Bumbleton Green behavior from black folks. Granted, black communities are rarely served well by the West End Productions, but that doesn’t mean we don’t have some inkling of how to act like we got some kinda hometraining.

And when you have James Earl Jones, Phylicia Rashad, and Sanaa Lathan directed by Debbie Allen, you want absolute, pin-drop silence. That’s what BUNA gets for being cheap and sitting in the nosebleed seats.

Relocation to the view obstructed seats might not have allowed us to catch every swish of Miss Lathan’s hips nor Mrs Rashad’s expressive demeanor, but Mr JEJ’s voice absolutely filled the space, so all was eventually good and we will return for another viewing…in the most expensive seats possible.

Really? Is anyone surprised that Tiger got caught? Well, I guess he is.

But the headlines are ridiculous with the best being the ones that wonder how Tiger could cheat on his hot wife? Ummm, because he’s a man and that’s what men do? That is not misandry, but truth. Black, white or “Cablasian” (as Tiger labeled himself when he hit the big time), women know it, men know it.

What’s infinitely more offensive is his mad scramble to save his endorsements and his complete lack of social consciousness in selecting for whom he shills. David Zirin over at The Nation gives some well-needed perspective on athletes and social accountability.

Does BUNA care if a Cablasian man cheats on his white wife with another white woman? Not one Fig Newton, no, we don’t. Do we care if Tiger makes corporate slavemasters like Chevron look good? Yeah, we care, especially if kids are being encouraged to emulate him and want to be like Tiger.

BUNA knows: it’s been a long time/ shouldn’ta a left you/without some dope beats to coon to. Lo sentimos.

Herewith, BUNA vows to its reading public (big assumption that there is one, we know) to post more regularly. Lord knows, there are enough fools out there clownin’ to give us enough fodder for days, so let the internal-critique-made-external begin!