Are you a member of the Justin Timberlake Fan Club? I almost was, until he let Janet Jackson’s breast fly free in the wind on a cold, windy Superbowl Sunday, (she’s lucky she had that giant nipple piercing weighing that big’un down). Brothas, how many Eminem cds do you own? What about that one white Sigma on the step team that really defied all white-boys-can’t dance stereotypes? Kid Rock had mad black chicks on his tip when he was a hip hop dj, and say what you will, but I know for a fact that many a heterosexual brotha was feelin’ Madonna (the THICK version) back in the day, before she came up with that strange British accent. Don’t let me get started on how many brothas fantasize over Rachel Ray when she turns her back to the camera making those 30 Minute Meals, or Angelina Jolie’s lips. And even Nilla Bean has to confess that a white guy with a low-cut ceaser and a goatee connected to the mustache (created at a BLACK barbershop of course), wearin a fitted and spittin some gangsta spoken word can turn my head quick…ok, sorry, personal moment…

So what is it about these “Blaucasians” (borrowed from the Tiger Woods school of racial synergy) that we love? I think we appreciate the idea of another culture’s fascination with and homage to us, even though the lines between adoration, envy and mockery sometimes get crossed. We certainly didn’t appreciate Al Jolsen’s blackfaced “mammy” and when Bo Derek showed up with beaded cornrows- insert loud West Indian teeth sucking sound here-, “gurl, puhleeeze”!

If a white person openly and publicly acknowledges the efforts and contributions that we have made to the global society, then their adoption of our habits and trends might be more palatable. It’s when the opposite occurs that we are subjected to listening to our folks like Little Richard loudly gesticulate and pontificate on how “they” stole, umm say for example, rock n roll, from us. And they never gave us nothin…NOTHIN!!!

But I digress….