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Thank me later. Or else.
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I'm full of many things -- grace, charm, wit, intelligence, stunning beauty (to name a precious few). However, that's just like 15% of the Raven-pie. As demonstrated by the sentence before last, the other 85% of me is full of inane ramblings and delusions of grandeur.

That said, I will periodically reveal to some of the changes that I plan on instituting once the Mulatto Revolution arrives. That way, none of you can can say you didn't see it coming (well...most of it anyway)

So, without further ado, when the revolution gets here...

I plan to greatly increase the size of the "ethnic" hair care sections in supermarkets and drugstores and relegate the white people hair care sections to a 4 by 4 foot space next to the condoms and the KY.

Weave, industrial-strength ceramic flat irons, doo rags, hair mayonnaise, relaxers and curl activators will be readily available in the long spacious aisles...as far as the eye can see, at regular-ass stores. That's right. Move, bitch -- or in this case Paul Mitchell and John Frieda -- get out the way. You'll have to go to a specialty store to get that shit...and scrunchies.

On second thought, the scrunchies can stay, I suppose.




Let your soul glo...or get the fuck outta here.
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Consider youself warned.

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