Imagine receiving sage advice from a “teenage girl” with an awful attitude, a very narrow outlook on life and a charming sense of social awareness.
The idea is that Jessica Ray is here to impart what little wisdom she’s amassed over the years…her very short, but eventful, years. She believes in world peace, not beauty pageant world peace where pretty girls with fake teeth, 6 inch makeup that defy nationalities and weaves tight enough to pop brain-cells pretend to know about, but the kind of world peace that’s achieved one day at a time.
She packs it all in her very own, strange guide in not being “Hobo”. Her views are bizarre, her tactics uncalled for and pretty much derogatory, but she means well.
Also, the views expressed by this well-meaning, misguided young lady do not in any way mirror that of Andile and his general belief of…humanity.
USE THE WORD HOBO CORRECTLY AND ENUNCIATE THE “B” OR GET READY TO BE PUBLICLY SHAMED.
I remember it like it was yesterday - the first day I ever uttered the immortal words “You’re such a hobo” - I was a four year old with the sass of an obese, African American forty-something-year-old with diabetes and a drinking problem, and my mom had a jerry-curl, hipster bell-bottoms that were indecently vajazzled (I fully understand in which context that word is rightfully used, but if you’d have seen those god-awful bell bottoms, you’d approve) and a god-awful rainbow coloured denim crop jacket.
It was every reason to hate the human race all rolled up in one and I instinctively understood the reason for my existence. I tried to fake a seizure, but realised, I’d have to see it through by dramatically foaming at the mouth and have my eyes roll back and do that spazing thing crack-heads do so well and it just seemed like too much work already.
She spun on her heel like she was proud of that mess of a decision and smiled that ridiculous “I did something right today” smile, and being the honest/forward/demon-spawn child I was, I let her know just how disappointing she was as a person and that she was “such a hobo”. She laughed it off, but there was a sadness in her eyes that told me she knew I was right, they always do.
So all through my life it’s been me valiantly setting the world straight and making sure that I wasn’t alone – like some one woman army against hobos the world over. Over the years I’d recruited other like-minded individuals who wanted to save the world, and so the revolution began.
Now step one is simple, I don’t feel like I have to explain much but I will provide examples on how not to do things. You’ll never go wrong under my tutelage, you can trust me. Now it’s very important that you not use the word hobo wrong. For example, when my good and possibly best friend Brittney had the gall to wear the same tank top I wore the year before, I had no choice but to call her out on it. Guys might not understand it, but to us girls there’s a law being broken here, one punishable by humiliation with a side helping of social probation.
This was an atrocity the likes of which cannot be left unchecked and unpunished and as the custodian of all things right in the world (Justice included), I had to do right by the laws that govern our very fragile society and set right the wrongs so carelessly dealt. We owe it to each other to fix one another, it’s what the Bible says somewhere – I’m almost sure it was in there.
Let me set the scene for you: the place, the school hallway opposite a bank of lockers, the time: midday, the offence: wearing an outfit previously worn and dominated by one of the inner circle members. The conversation went a little something like this.
“Look, hun, there isn’t an easy way of saying this so i’m just going to come out with it; I think what you’re doing is uncalled for, it’s below the common denominator and it’s revealing your hobo tendencies” Brit gave herself the once over and then cocked her head to the side with a blank stare – one of those ‘say something before I make a fool of myself’ stares.
“It’s not you exactly; it’s you wearing that tank top”
“I don’t understand” she continued.
“This isn’t about understanding; it’s about changing who you are because who you are, right now, is someone who’s made an unforgivable mistake. Do the right thing. Fix this” I insisted, this was serious business.
“I feel like you should speak sense now”
“Brittney, we have a responsibility to not look the way you look right now and to not make the kind of mistake you’ve just made; I wore that exact same tank top last year and it was amazing on me” I make no apologies for my pettiness. I’m almost an awful human being. So awful in fact that I three-sixty into being a great human being. It’s science, read about it.
“So you’re saying it doesn’t look amazing on me?”
“That’s not what I’m saying, friend; I’m just trying to tell you that you wearing that top now...a year later...is kind of hobo”
“You know what needs to happen now, don’t you?”
“You can’t be serious; I don’t have anything else to wear”
“I think you knew that, I think you wanted to throw yourself under the bus right? I think deep down you wanted to be punished. I think your subconscious needed some attention so it led you down this unrighteous path. But we aim to please so in a way, I’m making your subconscious happy; consider yourself ‘attention given’...I know. Anyway, I’m sure lost and found has some tops in there that will suit you just fine. You’re sacrificing your happiness for that of your subconscious, you should be proud of yourself”
And just like that, it was done.
Call me what you want, but you cannot deny my genius. I could have very easily torn her down, had her stuttering scriptures and worshipping the ground I walk on, but no, I extended a compassionate hand and gave her the kind of boost girls like her need from girls like me.
Some will call me a bully, that’s a moniker I’ve yet to fully embrace. Many more will call me a bitch, now that I can and will own. Are my methods mean and slightly condescending? Sure, but my intentions are pure.
We live in a world designed by white men, for white men, to glorify white men. I don’t intend on being one of the boys, I plan on being the best damn girl I can be and that means being strong, smart and looking out for my sisters.
The top in question was a crop top that did everything to hide nothing in giving the pimple faced boys in our school a lot of something to whet their late night fantasies. I’d made the mistake of wearing it the year before, and not a soul warned me against that awful decision, but I wasn’t about to stand by and watch Brittney make the same mistake at the expense of her dignity.
I’d rather be ugly to her in private to protect her, then have her shamed in public and have her spirit ruined by the leering, disgusting, borderline unlawful looks she’d get.
As insane as it may sound to you, not being a hobo isn’t an insult to the homeless, it’s taking that word and assigning it the connotation it deserves; it means not allowing yourself to be led astray by the fickle social constructs, not being swallowed whole by ‘The man’ and his sexist, fascist and ridiculously bigoted ideals…and it means not being lame.
That was the correct usage of the word hobo, the incorrect usage of the word hobo goes a little something like this. This is a typical conversation with the school idiot. He’s that almost deliberate type of stupid that shouldn’t be real, but actually is. He suffers from no form of mental illness, or so he says, but he acts like he’s forgotten. I’m not one to be unjustifiably mean or anything, but I strongly believe that his now deceased grandfather used to throw his pubes at him which made him crazy – I don’t know if that’s true nor do I understand the complexities of pube-throwing and its effects on people, but I’m glad to perpetuate that idea if it’ll help in dealing with him in future encounters. His name is Daniel.
“My mom made me peanut butter and jam for lunch, she’s so hobo right?”
This moment in time, in the world, in the universe, in my life is where my neck did a 360 and my eyes rolled to the back of my head and my tongue slithered out of my mouth and crawled into my nose. I was that appalled with his misuse of a perfectly simple and downright religious term.
“Just thought you’d want to chat a bit, you know, find out what’s up with each other’s lives”
“I don’t find you attractive”
“That’s totally unrelated to what I just said” he whispered wide-eyed.
“It just so happens that sometimes we think we’re attractive, but we’re not. You are not attractive” it needed to be said.
“I just wanted to say hi really”
“Do you know what you just did?”
“Said hi, or tried...” he shifted his eyes from side to side, making sure that the coast was clear, he knew what was about to happen; they always do.
“You just insulted the entire institution of the proper use of the word ‘hobo’. You denigrated a sacred psalm, sullied a special saying and spat on the faces of those who did nothing but strengthen the backbone of forgotten society”
“You did something very, very, very bad and now you have to pay”
“You kind of get scary when you’re like this Jessie” he backed away slowly.
“EEUWE! DANIEL I WILL NOT WATCH YOU MASTURBATE TO MIDGET GRANNY PORN! THAT’S DISGUSTING!” I shouted at the top of my lungs, not too loud that it sounded practiced or fake, but loud enough to turn some major heads and by major I mean every.
I stormed off dramatically with my luscious tresses dancing elegantly behind and he continued to use the word, but now he almost gets it right. That’s how you educate the ignorant. It’s like I’m Jesus, I took one saying, like he took one or two fish and shared it righteously with all those who need it.
Another very important point is that you should never, and I do mean never, use the word ‘hobo’ in front of an actual hobo. They don’t like it very much. I mean I get it, but I don’t at the same time.
We’re breaking barriers, appropriating that stigmatic word from the homeless and giving it life in a context that doesn’t degrade the men, women and children that have nothing as a result of a system and society that failed them. So should you find yourself in the company of your significant other with a homeless person close by, I’d suggest you not use that word in any way, shape or form. They’ll hit you, and they won’t go easy on you too.
It’s like they wait for some young fool to walk by and use it so they can kick the living crap out of them. They’ll beat you up and it won’t be pretty, there’s nothing more hobo than having an actual hobo throw his shoe in your face while you scream with all the masculinity of a tween girl at a Justine Bieber concert because he has your underpants in his fist. Nobody will help you, do you know how humiliating it is to be whooped by a homeless man in the street, and having the entire world bear witness to your very public lashing? That’s not how your life should be like. That’s not why the Backstreet Boys were made. That’s not why Mandela was released.
Here’s the perfect way to NOT handle a situation where you let the “H” word slip around the wrong ears. Bob and Tina were on their way to Bob’s place after a romantic date and it’s warm out so they decided to take a stroll to where he stayed, which wasn’t all that far.
“That was a very romantic dinner, thank you Bob”
“The night’s young and so are we; I can’t wait to make it an even better evening”
“You’re silly, but you’re right; I can’t wait either. Oh wait what about your roommate, won’t he be there?”
“You mean that fugly hobo, nah he’s on the other side of town”
“Say that again you little prick” came a croaky voice from within the darkness – that sounded like one of those modern, dark twisted, contemporary type...oh whatever, moving along.
This was the part where the actual hobo heard Bob and hell hath little fury like a hungry homeless man who got hold of the wrong stuff – drugs – and who feels insulted.
“I’m sorry, we don’t have any money for you man”
Two for one, now listen here kids, I don’t advocate violence, but Bob was asking for it.
“You want to repeat yourself little boy, because I ain’t heard none of that?”
This was where the old man hobo stood up and Tina knew that shit was going down, so she stepped back and tried pulling her idiot boyfriend with her.
“Bob maybe we should go” she almost pleaded.
“No we won’t, let me handle this baby. Now listen here...”
That was all that the hobo needed to let loose a barrage of face pumps and pimp slaps with a few bitch slaps in there for good measure. Have you ever seen one of those videos where a squirrel eats a man’s face?...no? Well it was like that, but the hobo was much scarier. He was bigger too, and faster, and stronger. You know, drugs might actually give people superpowers…
“Nobody’s going to remember what you used to look like boy!”
He was like a drunk, high and crazy rabbit on meth and he just went for our poor friend Bob. He slapped him like he’d wanted to get him from the moment his life went down the drain and once Bob was on his knees, the hobo went straight for the rear.
“NO MR HOMELESS MAN, DON’T RAPE HIM!” Tina screamed.
That wasn’t part of his plan at all; instead he grabbed the back of Bob’s boxers in a tight fist and made sure that Bob tasted the thin material as he pulled them up with all his might – so high and so tight that they were almost swallowed whole by his abused rectum.
“How you like that boy? That’s what this hobo has for you”
“No, I’m sorry sir, please NO!” Bob begged for dear life.
That was the moment Bob became an internet star; as a small crowd made its way up to the scene and just watched in silent awe – the night air was filled with the sounds of slapping, screaming and begging...someone grunted, I can’t tell you who but there was a definite grunt. Many of them pulled out their smart phones and immortalising Bob’s humiliation. Many others just stood there in disbelief as a man was being made a bitch – non-sexually – by a hobo out on the street.
“Oink boy, oink like the pig you is”
Nobody laughed, it was sad, it was hilariously sad so nobody wanted to be the fool that grabbed the hobo’s attention and had to oink. The crowd watched and Tina backed off slowly, disappearing into the now growing audience until she ran off, leaving Bob to his very public beating.
“I can’t do this with you Bob, not after this!”
Bob was too busy being had by the homeless man to notice that he’d joined the ever increasing number of sad, single people in the world. The hobo rode him like nobody’s business – not like a sex act or anything, mind out of the gutter please - and the insanity went on for a good few minutes until the hobo tired himself out and let go of an equally exhausted and thoroughly humiliated Bob.
That part must have been the saddest of the entire situation, but Bob was too busy nursing a sore rear to even grasp the tragedy of what had just happened. That’s why you should never, ever, use hobo next to an actual hobo because you’ll be made an example of; the hobos around the world are getting angrier and nobody wants to give them any reason to retaliate.
Just imagine; every hobo alive and barely alive coming together and forming some form of revolt. It’ll turn so ugly so fast, they’ll pee on your children and laugh. They’ll throw stones at us and rummage through people’s homes; that’s why we need to keep the balance and not provoke them in any way…
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