When “Pudding Pop” becomes a Euphemism for Pussy

Bill Cosby is in my favorite movie of all time, Let’s Do it Again. Before I became a Richard Pryor fanatic, Bill Cosby’s More of the Best of Bill Cosby was my favorite comedy album. I loved Fat Albert and the Cosby Kids. Simply, I liked the guy. I wouldn’t say that I loved him because I didn’t know him. And strangely, there was something about the guy that always seemed unknowable.

I remember when, while still a student, he came to one of my Alma mater’s homecoming games. He was still the Big Star, in the middle of killing it with The Cosby Show on NBC. As he filed past the crowd, hand extended to collect high fives from all that would offer, my hand was more than certainly in that mix too.

A year later, when a student protest at our school took place right as The Cos was about to be awarded an honorary degree, I chanced to wonder how he must have felt. Who was he siding with? Was he with the school’s administration, or with the kids?

Cosby and his wife Camille were long known to give big money to struggling colleges and universities. Surely, the man deserved to be awarded with something. Little could I have known then that what Cosby was likely ‘awarded’ with, he was also likely awarding himself with. And it was probably a little something he picked up in one of the girl’s dorms; the younger and lighter-skinned, the better.

Long before Hannibal Buress made a name for himself by reminding people that Bill Cosby had been accused multiple times of rape and sexual impropriety, it was obvious that there was something wrong with the guy.

And even though I couldn’t put my finger on it back before all of the allegations started to surface, I knew it for a fact the minute he started on his preaching tour. That’s right, the second that he started his bullshit sermonizing about the poor and underclass Blacks that weren’t “holding up their end of the bargain” as far as racial advancement is concerned, things congealed in my mind like refrigerated jello liquid (pardon the pun).

Just like the only cops of value are the ones who haven’t deluded themselves into thinking they joined the force “to help people” and can look you in the eye and explain that they took the job for the benefits and the pension, none but the most severely fucked up personalities ever take to preaching by vocation.

Even Jesus Christ, alleged Son of God, was a carpenter by trade. He only taught on the side because he knew the damage being done by the religious hierarchy of his time.

And no, I don’t think Cos raped all them bitches. I’m sure that some of them gave him the pussy willingly. He was, after all, a Big Star. But since I’ve started on this Christian motif, let’s stay here for a while. Turn with me in your bibles to Genesis Chapter 18, Verse 16.

Long story short, Abraham is trying to stop God from destroying Sodom and Gomorrah. At first Abe says, “God, if I can find 50 righteous dudes in those fucked up towns, please don’t send the hell fire through” (paraphrased, of course). Longer story even shorter, they whittle that number right on down to 10. Still, we know what happened there.

But I’ma do both God and Abraham one better by working from the opposite direction: hey Cos, if a single one of your accusers is actually telling the truth…

About the Author

dickiebhee
Dickie Bhee is a self-styled lunatic, a Renaissance showman, a Class A, Grade A buffoon, a nigga that believes in the greatness of Niggerhood a social gadfly and a genuine Man About Town. Also: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B01E7NYMP4

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