As confusion as to which century we’re in continues to mount, DJ Khaled’s recent comments on a radio interview about not feeling obliged to give the mother of his child head because he pays the bills harkens back to The Sopranos. Because everything always does. With DJ Khaled blissfully oblivious to the fact that he’s about to overtake Kanye West’s “slavery was a choice” headlines, he comments without even the slightest impression of a second thought, “I believe a woman should praise the man, you know. The king. If you holdin’ it down for your woman, I feel like the woman should praise…and the man should praise the queen–but you know, my way of praising…hahaha…it’s called ‘How was dinner? You like the house you livin’ in? You like all the clothes you gettin’? I’m takin’ care of your family, takin’ care of my family–you know, puttin’ in the work.” One of the hosts of The Breakfast Club on NYC’s Power 105 then summed up, “So you’re sayin’ you don’t go down.” DJ Khaled flatly returns, “Naaaaa. Never.”
For those of you who have still somehow never seen The Sopranos (go start watching it now because it remains forever relevant), this mentality is directly helmed from mafia dons and members in general and Tony Soprano in particular. As the capo of the DiMeo crime family, Tony still technically cedes the best title to his uncle, Corrado Soprano, a man who actually calls very few of the shots. The lack of respect Tony feels for him is further augmented when he hears rumors about Corrado’s current girlfriend, who has talked up his generous oral sex abilities in the bedroom to other women. And, of course, when Corrado finds out that people are talking, he scolds his girlfriend for telling others, explaining to her that it’s a sign of weakness for a man to give a woman pleasure in this way. DJ Khaled, who also apparently sees himself as a mafia don despite the fact that the only way in which he resembles one is in girth (not of the penis kind, mind you), adds to his grave-digging interview, “You gotta understand I’m the don, I’m the king… It’s different rules for men. You gotta understand you know, like, we the king. There’s some things that y’all might not wanna do–it gotta get done. I just can’t do what you want me to do.” Shit, even Tony gave Carmela head once a year for her birthday (an occasion Angela Yee also brings up to Khaled as an important time to make a concession about one’s usual misogyny). And even Ricky Ricardo probably had more evolved views about how to treat his wife (especially considering Lucy held the key to his secured American citizenship. No one was gonna give him a work visa for “Babalu.”). In any case, one supposes Khaled’s “queen,” Nicole Tuck, might be getting some terrible head pretty soon as a result of this backlash. Meanwhile, Rihanna male alliances continue to prove fatal. Because diamonds are nothin’ when you’re not getting head from the person bestowing them upon you.
The trouble with Williamsburg’s female to “male” ratio isn’t just that it promotes trolling for pussy past 1 a.m., but also that it fosters the notion that “men” have to fuck every woman they meet. This phenomenon, presented succinctly by Dr. Melfi to Tony Soprano, is a sad elucidation of the male mind being run by an appendage that’s barely there.
A “man” who mistakenly thinks these women want to fuck him, and that he should fuck them all
I get that, with “men,” women are like cereal box prizes and they think they have to collect them all, but, ultimately, only one of the prizes is worth having–unfortunately by the time “men” have this revelation, they’ve already contracted every STD under the pubic hair (in large part thanks to the clientele that congregates at Verboten). So next time you see a group of women walking down Bedford Avenue, remind yourself to hone in on just one of them. You don’t have to fuck everyone. Freddie Mercury already did.
Gender reversal, in addition to the abolition of conventional gender perception altogether, has been steadily rising ever since Kurt Cobain put on a dress and called himself a feminist. As time wears on (and wears on women’s skin), the reversal has gradually become so complete that “men” have, in essence, transcended completely into women–though they’ve adopted all the worst qualities of the sex without seeming to take on any of the good ones (e.g. sensitivity and compassion).
Androgyny has become femininity
As the new women, “men” enjoy delightful perks like mani/pedis, not working, not putting out, wearing their hair in buns and generally acting like bitches. The death of masculinity as we have known it continues to become a daunting thought. As Tony Soprano once said, “Whatever happened to the strong, silent type? Like Gary Cooper.” The answer is, their genes have been stamped out, their Y chromosomes seemingly obliterated or absorbed by the power of X.
For a large bulk of “men” in search of an orifice in which to place his so-called lower appendage, the aim is not to find a woman who is unique or particularly memorable, but rather, to release the contents of his testicles, which is often why he tends to complain, “All women are the same.”
Tony Soprano, a sociopath with dick issues
Moreover, most “men” can’t acknowledge the fact that the purported sameness of the women they bone stems from the unavoidable reality that they’re all in search of a female who either blatantly or subtly mimics the personality and/or aesthetic of his mother. It’s a sad Oedipal part of life, but it’s true. Hence, every woman he dates, fucks or befriends tends to feel like a copy of the last. So if a “man” wants to get a sense that no two women are created alike, it is key for him to break out of his psychological mold, which can be a challenge when it’s being run by a nub of a penis.
Carmela Soprano once said, “If I had an ounce of self-respect, I’d cut your dick off.” This statement obviously does not apply to you as you are not Tony Soprano and most likely don’t have a dick to cut off. But the fact that dickless “men” are generally intimidated by an imposing, expressive woman like Carmela is telling not only of a certain callowness, but also an inability to “handle” a “strong-minded” female.
Apart from “men’s” overwhelming fear of women who look to Lorena Bobbitt or Left-Eye as an inspiration, their wariness of decisive, self-assured types comes from their own realization that, apart from their dick (which they don’t have), they don’t really have anything to bring to the table (Carmela’s already got that covered anyway with her baked ziti).