Shame on you, Netflix





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Shame on you, Netflix
By Byron Crawford • Issue #446 • View online
The families of Jeffrey Dahmer’s victims already had to cope with the fact that their loved ones were eaten, among other things. They shouldn’t be forced to relive this trauma in the form of a 10-episode limited series on Netflix.
I join Lil Boosie in expressing my utter disgust with Dahmer, for killing, eating and improperly storing teh ghey black and Asian runaways, and with Netflix, for thinking this would make a good TV show.
They couldn’t just get the Friends reruns back?
It’s hardly any wonder that many on Black People Twitter were discussing, nay, threatening, to cancel Netflix before the Dahmer series even dropped. It’s not just that the service has become too expensive for people who don’t work for a living. It’s that they’ve run out of good ideas.
The nerve of these people, to announce that they were jacking up the price on people who share their passwords, knowing good and well that many of our parents are on a fixed income. How are they supposed to pay for their insulin and make sure that my entertainment needs are met?
I’m not 15 years old anymore. There’s a hard limit to the number of times a day I can watch pr0n, and I refuse to do anything productive, or socially acceptable, in my free time.
Arguably, Netflix already owes the black community. Because we’re especially sensitive to smell, and the thought of a guy doing anything sexual with another guy, we were all traumatized by Jeffrey Dahmer.
I’m triggered anytime I go into a Taco Bell and someone obviously forgot to put the “meat” back into the freezer, let alone when I see a nutty CAC taking a bite out of a black kid’s rotting ass—er, when I see that as an option while I’m scrolling to see if I missed any of Dave Chappelle’s lectures on why he’s not a TERF, i.e. the GOAT comedy specials.
If Netflix is going to distribute the proceeds from Dahmer to the victims, as Lil Boosie has suggested, they should distribute them to all black people, provided they’re not from Africa or the Caribbean, where people are more accepting of “exotic” foods (if not alternative lifestyles).
It would be wrong to give that money to the families of the victims, who likely disowned them before they became a white guy’s lunch, their sensitivity to smell notwithstanding.
I didn’t hear a peep from these people in the 30-year span in between those meals and the present, and now they’ve got their hands out? Pshaw!
It’s a wonder some of them are still alive, given how many rappers are dying before they’re even old enough to get the AARP magazine in the mail—including Coolio, who’s in heaven doing that “Rollin’ with the Homies” dance with the late, great Brittany Murphy. (Queen Elizabeth II is nowhere to be found.)
The average black male life span is short enough as it is without having to worry about being eaten. If we wanted to be on constant lookout for predators, we could have stayed over in Africa. If Viola Davis knew anything like this would happen, she wouldn’t have sold our ancestors into slavery.


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Byron Crawford

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