"I Hate a liar more than I hate thief.. A thief is only after my salary a liar is after my reality" -Chubby, pre-fame 50 Cent
Taking a look at the above quote, one could easily say that this post's point has been proven long before the Bros tediously typewritten text has overtaken your over sized computer screens. Gold diggers, while scheming heifers and conniving paper chasers, are at the very least, honest. You know the perils up front and should you choose to accept the mission, you have subconsciously signed a waiver accepting all responsibility.
As a blog post, however, stating the obvious would be....well...obvious. If I wanted to be obvious I'd say that unless Beyonce's baby comes out looking Alladin's Arabian camel or a 50 year old Benjamin button man-child, Hov's old ass could not be the one who impregnated her. Well, I knew he kept Young Memphis around for something. Lol.
Anyways, What I will say is this...
Many women deal with drug dealers, cheaters and wild, dreadlocked fraternity boys because they enjoy a certain standard of living, be that posh Manhattan apartments or an atmosphere of constant partying. When the funds run low,liquor runs out and the hookah smoke clears, however, they quickly abandon their cash cow, and proceed to be chastised by us for being gold diggers as we allow these scantily clad 69...ahem...49ers to go mine for gold nameplates elsewhere. It happens, its expected and it's fact.
That was the exalting, which means eliciting praise for those of you who were unaware. I praise the golddigger for knowing her role.
A far more dangerous and treacherous female, however, is the Storm chaser. Let me explain.
A well known and respected drug dealer lays his heckler & koch 40 caliber pistol inside a hotel nightstand underneath a bible; The room was paid for in cash and booked under a fake alias. Making sure no prints are left on the gun, he leaves it there and proceeds to walk away...as far away from the shoddy days inn as he possibly can before reaching a payphone. His Iphone and 2 boost mobile "burner" phones lie somewhere in the Hudson, most likely shattered in pieces, but his younger brother has already received all of the important contact information.
He's handed over the reigns of his once lucrative empire. He's done. A sense of calming relief overtakes his body with the evasive presence of a vics vapor rub as he rides home with his wife in their 7 series BMW. It is in her name, like the house and cannot be seized. Keeping 6 degrees of separation between himself and the dope has proved successful as he has made it out the game, into legitimate business enterprises and has a safe full of cash as a back-up plan. He's made it...He's gone legit...and in two months his wife will be fucking someone else.
Tako: Ok Donald Goines, whats your fucking point.
Even financially set up for life some women just like the drama and excitement. Gold diggers are simple, keep cash and they will fight till the death for you. Stormchasers are not as easy to read, because storms are unpredictable and they LOVE that.
To make this even more difficult, reformed players, don juans and the like, like the fact that it was "their persona" which attracted their girl. If she was the type to like cornballs, you probably wouldnt like her. Everybody wants to be a "Live (exciting) nigga". People like to have reputations....they like to be known. Women are attracted to this as well, in the same way they want you to continue to be the guy that attracted them YET are ready to spaz on you the moment that personality comes out.
I'm convinced women dont want you to change your man-whoring ways because you'll be a boring L-7 square; they just want the RIGHT to flip out on your every time you act that way because your di*k is now being claimed. In exchanged for monopolizing her twat and gaining exclusive use during her most fruitful years, she has the right to nag and spaz. Fair.
Storm chasers, however, go a step further. They will exhaust all possibilities to inject excitement into a relationship, and I'm not talking role play. They will start fights, go through your text messages and basically "Look for trouble" like a Crip C-walking at a blood bank. And then, when they feel like you've finally matured enough not to entertain the silly arguing and they can no longer get a rouse out of you, they will move on to the next "live nigga" who will get so upset he almost beats her. The guy selling drugs on the bus but who'll get it popping, fight, and get a fresh outfit for the club.
"Ladies, do your man still have jail cornrows in 2011? You might be a stormchaser."
Your storm has passed so she's moved on, leaving nothing but destruction in her path. She will continue this cycle until she's the oldest ho at the party with the 16 year old drug dealer, looking like Lebron James's or Keisha Cole's mom.
This being said, as a Blog chastised for demeaning women and vehemently throwing vicious verbal assaults at chickenheads, we can honestly say that this time we support you...the golddiggers of America. In a country rooted in constitutional liberties, truth and the pursuit of wealth, you efforts seem almost patriotic. You use the same reason popularized during the Renaissance and enlightenment period...you think like men (chauvinist comment of the day.)
Most importantly, you are sane. You do not live for pure excitement and adrenaline but rather, realize that one day your arthritis will prevent you from doing the tootsie roll and giving head in the whip. Most people would rather endure a burglary than walk into a hurricane...We are no different.
May the Golddiggers prosper and the stormchasers be swept off their feet by decent gentlemen who eventually turn out to be adulterers.Lol.