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Things not to do on Facebook when I die

Yet another day of not minding my business on Facebook and of course we are back to 0 days without VI nonsense. I have to remember to do a series about that for another time. Entiwho, I have very few close friends so I know I don’t have to tell them this (and I’m not popular enough to have to deal with this fart), but this is just a PSA for folks who reach into the common sense jar and come up empty when it comes to handling death online.

I know a lot of people who have died, but what I don’t do is act the fool online. I’m not writing dissertations on the person or none of that. You’re lucky if I write R.I.P. That’s just me. I leave those behaviors to family and genuine close friends. To be honest, I even side-eye close friends on occasion.

For me, personally, I don’t want anyone showing out when I pass away regardless of the circumstances. Since I won’t be around to tell folks to cut the crap, I’m gonna leave this note here and hopefully, my friends will gather the fools who take part in these post-death shenanigans.

First things first, see those ugly ass, poorly photoshopped angel wings photos?

It might be cute for Sasha, but it’s not happening here. I don’t consent to this. First of all, yall photoshop skills are trash and you’re not about to tarnish my image to show off your pitiful attempt at composition.


Who even told yall that was cool? Look, if yall are my friends and you catch anyone doing this? You better snatch that photo all the way down or I’m haunting all yall asses. Every time you glance in the mirror I’ll be watching you. When you’re trying to get some nooki I’ll be right at the bedside making sure you can’t get it up/get wet. I’m pinching your elbow every time you’re in an important meeting.

I’m not even dead and I’m already a vengeful spirit so those wings just aren’t gonna cut it.

Next, yall BET not let anybody try to capitalize on my death either. You see anyone try to drop a SoundCloud track or radio jingle about anti-violence in my name yall stop it. I’m not for it.

I don’t know or have rapper friends so most likely that person is just trying to use the situation for a come up and I’m not about that falsity. I hate it in fact.

Don’t wait till some shit like that happens to try to make some coins. If you’re REALLY about it, that would be your message before. Hell, we’ve got at least over 30 homicides a year. How do you decide which one you’re going to pick to make music about?

Yall dead ass wait to use someone’s misfortune for a few dollars then the shit fades away. That’s sick. I don’t know how yall sleep at night doing shit like that.

And don’t use my death as a soapbox either! Yall know good and gotdamn well that Kumbayah spirit has 2-business-day shelf-life. Yall gonna want us to “do better” and “respect other women,” and then tomorrow you’re going to popping off and threatening folks because someone wrote something you didn’t like. Miss me with it. Don’t do it. Keep the Facebook live sermons to a minimum.

Also, Keep the essays to a minimum. Yall know I didn’t like people so there shouldn’t be any anyways. And check the folks who know they didn’t like me. Don’t let them get away with saying shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii (one eternity later) iiiiiiiiit.

You know folks turn bold as hell when you’re not around to refute the things they say.

Here are some things to remember 1) I didn’t pick on anybody. Those girls don’t like me over grammar/spelling corrections and the truth. 2)I only have 3 exes and I think one might be dead. Where is that dude? and with the exception of one, they don’t use Facebook. So there shouldn’t be any dudes popping up to claim me. Check my best-friend for who these guys are.

Also, don’t write on my wall talking about “pick up the phone.” I’M GONE. Heaven and the underworld don’t come equipped with phones. Heaven probably have sprint service anyways and that’s why Jesus keep dropping yall calls.  If I pick up the phone you better call a priest because something isn’t right. Hell, YOU might not be right. Get those demons checked out boo.

Lastly, and what prompted this post. Yall don’t let folks get too creative with mourning my passing. I know I’m the greatest thing since Thomas Bakery Titi Bread, but look let’s keep the nonsense to a minimum.

For one,  don’t put my name on your body, not via tattoos and certainly not via tape. Why you walking about with my name above your butt crack? Seriously? That feels right to you? Why? How did you even come up with that concept?

I need a play by play on how that “creative” tribute came about? Then I gotta be rolling in my grave figuring out what type of person I was, that you’d even think that’s okay! Did I like people going to hot, sweaty, stank ass jams with only iPhone charger fixing material on my pooschay?

Did I think that was okay? Because WHY would you go that far? That’s wild. Put the body and the person aside, how did that even sound like a good idea? You gonna go out naked with my name taped on your body, near your ass crack at that (not even your titties man) as a tribute at a got damn jam of all places. There were questionable fluids being dispersed all over this party and you dragged my dead ass up in there for the tomfoolery. Wild man. Wild.

I could just see my spirit at this party wondering what the hell did I do to deserve this shit.


Look. Let’s just keep it simple. Say your RIPs. I ain’t gonna read your long Facebook Status because we ain’t got no wifi in the afterlife, and make sure my funeral is planned after festival because I don’t want to disrespect the culture.



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