The women who have complained to me about blondes, who have groaned when Rod Stewart’s song, Blondes Have More Fun, plays over the radio, who have literally snarled at the sight of a stunning blonde, who have hooted with glee when a formerly attractive blonde woman’s skin begins to break down earlier than most in Middle Age, have lately been resurrected in my mind. I have recently had numerous white women complain to me about black women being hostile to them. Of course this jives with a number of other observations:
1. Latinas and Asians often show a passive disdain for white women
2. White women control print publishing.
3. White women control the feminist agenda.
4. White women are the most prominent type of person featured on local or network news, with a very high proportion of blondes compared to the general population.
5. White women seem to have a lock on America's political correctness meter, with white women even influencing NFL policy decisions, despite the fact that a higher percentage of black women like football than white women, and that the fan base is predominantly male.
6. People who commit violent crimes against white women are more likely to receive harsher sentences than those who commit crimes against others
7. Media coverage for the search for a missing white female child are more extensive than for others.
8. All races of men prefer to have sex with white women, by a vast majority.
9. White women win the majority of international beauty pageants even though they are a minority.
10. Even among African Americans, lighter skinned mixed-race women are usually regarded as the most attractive.
11. Overall, Anglo-American beauty standards have been adapted in most cultures as a worldwide standard.
12. And, most importantly, women who change their hair color [as opposed to highlighting it or dying it in a more uniform tone] usually opt to be perceived as a blonde, with few blondes dying their hair black.
The History Of Blonde Sex Appeal?
I have diligently searched the historical record for the blonde beauty standard end present my findings below.
Paris the Pretty Boy and Helen the Ho
Helen was the famously beautiful queen of Sparta, who has often been assumed or believed to have been blonde. Today she is remembered in the name of a hair product company, Helen of Troy Hair Products! I exfoliate you not!
The greatest warriors in the world gathered for nine years to murder each other over who got to have intercourse with Helen, Paris the Pretty Boy, or Menaleus of the Wine Gut. Indeed, the entire Greek civilization referred to themselves, not as Greeks [which was a Roman term] but as Hellenes.
In pre Turkish times blonde hair was as common among Hellenes as it is among Anglos.
Helen was referred to in antiquity as possessing ‘The face that launched a thousand ships’.
Now, Paris—who the bumbling French named their capital city after, which famously could not keep an invader out anymore than Helen could keep Paris away from her loins—could look at Helen all he wanted at state dinners. He could even have had his rich daddy pay for the best painter to do her portrait so he could sit back like the sissy he was and whack off while Hector battled Big Daddy Priam’s enemies. But no, he had to bring her home, to his darkened chamber, where her famously beautiful face would be obscured by his own lusty shadow.
David the Gangster and Himmy the Hittite
King David, the adult form of the kid who smashed in Goliath’s head with a sling stone, had a band of killers—a diverse assortment of heavy hitters from various nations. Among these killers were men descended from those who had fought the Trojan War, and had scattered with the death of their civilization.
King David behaved more like a heroin kingpin than anything. His one particular warrior was Himmy of the Hittites. The Hittites lived in what is now Turkey. Although the Anatolian peninsula is now a stronghold of luxuriant black hair, it was once in the blonde zone before the Turkish invasions. Therefore, Himmy [who has gone into history as a dude with a less narrative friendly name] may well have had a blonde wife.
Himmy’s wife was named Bathsheba, a babe to die for, who David coveted. David sent away Himmy on a suicide mission just so he could bed his wife…
King Kong and Faye Wray
As a boyhood fan of King Kong, who turned his nose up at black native women in his quest to posses the doll sized Golden Woman, I suppose I knew the answer to why white women, despite being the wimpiest humans on the planet, boss everyone around and why men of all colors are seemingly obsessed with the whitest women of them all, when I was six.
Pizza John
In 1994 I sat in Pizza John’s pizza truck, after helping him merchandize all day. He was a black man from Texas with a flamboyant accent who now reminds me of the Clay Davis character from The Wire.
Pizza John knew that my marriage was on the ropes, as he correctly deduced that my working six jobs was a doomed attempt to throw money at a problem I had not yet figured out. We were having lunch outside of a store we had served when two of the cashiers left for the day and waved up to us, a pretty blonde and a pretty black girl. He had bought me lunch and decided that he would also dispense some wisdom for my young ears.
“Okay Jimmy, just sayin’ you was to step out on the Mrs., which one, the blonde or the sister?”
“Whichever one was nicest to me.”
“Is you serious! No wonder you miserable boy! Now, again, decide like a man, not like some boy who wanna be loved, but a man who wants what a man wants!”
“Okay, the black girl.”
“May I ask your clueless ass why?”
“Bigger tits, nicer ass—could probably go for longer.”
“Oh, white boy a marathon runna aye. Well Pizza John got some shit from shinola fo you son. So you gonna run a marathon en make the mistake of havin’ some bitch fall in love with you, en maybe even knock her ass up wearin’ dat condom out? Now that shit is dumb enough. But the real dumb shit is gettin’ stuck with that black pussy.”
I recall looking at the man dumfounded. I had worked with many a black man who had expressed admiration for white women and disdain for black women, but none had been as aggressive with this line of inquiry as John.
“Okay, so whiteboy all up in dem big black titties and that cotton pickin’ ass, then all of a sudden reality will dawn on his dumbass!”
“You see, there is a very good reason why cultivated black men, such as myself, want that white pussy—and most particularly that blonde white pussy, and it is not because we have a desire to be shot or lynched. Before I lay it out, you surely took a mixed race school shower. If you recall you white boys have big pink balls and us black boys—though we packin’ more dick as a general rule—have these shrunk up, black leathery nuts. Now why you think that is son?”
At this point, in my early 30s, I had only been with two women in my life, both white brunettes. I just sat in wonder at all of this wisdom being dispensed, wondering what I would ever do with it, but knowing that one day the retelling of the story would make for a good story of its own.
Pizza John slapped me on the shoulder with the back of his hand and laid out the secret of the ages, the clue that eventually told the back story behind why Agamemnon led a coalition of warlords on behalf of his jilted brother Menaleus across the Wine Dark Sea in a thousand ships, so that the unmatched warrior Achilles might play out his cursed fate at the gates of Troy…
“First we got the extra dick length so we don' have to scrape our balls on that SOS pad. En—cause a body get eager—we got this leathery nut-sack to be able to bare up against that unsightly mess. Brother, it’s like this: you run you marathon on some nice white lady you good, apply a little anti chaffing ointment on those soft pink balls of yours and you good to go—the wife will be none the wiser.
“But you go run a marathon on that cute little jungle bunny and your shit will be raw. Brother—unless you get you some high yella or red bone mixed-race thang, you dealin’ with a brillo pad down there. That pussy will tear you up every bit as sure as the jungle tore our asses up when I was in Nam! You will go back to your woman without a hair on your balls, lookin like you dropped them suckers in a coffee pot—I shit you not brother!”
“How—eva!” as he pointed to the two ladies pulling off and waving again, “You slide up in that blonde thang there son, you runnin’ the Walker Mile foevea! That blonde pussy there—that’s what King Kong was after, what I’m after, and what your young ass should be after—the pot of angel soft, golden pussy at the end of the womanly rainbow!”
I recall sitting kind of numb and giddy, with a surreal sense that I had been taken along on the wings of some other man’s imagination like a magic carpet ride. Pizza John was one of those rapturous speakers from the south who should have been a preacher or a pimp and was surely wasted on the frozen pizza business. I have retold this story dozens of times just to keep it in my mind. And now, finally, writing this book for you oversexed knuckleheads, I have found what seems to be the proper venue for Pizza John’s wisdom.
Come to think of it, the most famous photo of the Baltimore Riots is of a black man holding a value pack of Angle Soft tissue over head in victory. Maybe old Pizza John was more right than he knew.
Is this why women dye their hair blonde, and why it seems every babe under 30 has defoliated the approach to her reproductive precincts?
It is something to consider.
White women rule the world. Everybody else either wants to be with them or look like them.
I got over that wishful thinking after a couple of early grade school years, which was actually immigrant child syndrome & not a simple wish to be blond with blue eyes. By time I was in HS, I didn't even like blond men. Just wasn't my type. In fact, growing up in Philly, getting involved in Greek and Middle Eastern Dance, I hardly even saw blonds. And I looked down on the ones who had dark eyebrows with dark roots showing, like they were showing their underwear, with the dirt of self-rejection for all to see. I was a snooty immigrant, critical of the brain washing, stupefying, soporific effects of the media and refused to accept mainstream America's gods and goddesses being peddled by them. Still can't watch tv without getting pissed or bored.
As for the younger women shaving, I always saw it as a rejection of the obvious sign of their womanhood and of having reached sexual maturity, which looks really pervy to me, in light of the pedophile and porn influence.
Now those would be interesting topics to explore... A culture with an overwhelming number of deadbeat dads, the mangina development, a disconnected and inappropriate attraction to children, and whatever the porn industry does to piggyback on whatever trend is lucrative, and how the media, the porn and gay fashion industries all conspire to make women hate what is natural, beautiful, and varied about themselves. That would be subtitled: why your woman lacks desire, keeps herself covered up, and avoids light like a vampire, or, it's not your fault that she doesn't enjoy or want sex...
Really enjoyed your story,
Habibi
I just want to go off up in them !