? I am the stone The builder refused ?
? I am the visual The inspiration ?
? That made lady Sing the blues ?
? I'm the spark That makes your idea bright ?
? The same spark That lights the dark ?
? So that you can know Your left from your right ?
? I am the ballot in your box The bullet in the gun ?
? The inner glow That lets you know ?
? To call your brother sun ?
? The story that just begun ?
? The promise Of what's to come ?
? And I'm a remain a soldier ?
? Till the war is won ?
? Chop, chop, chop Judo flip ?
? Chop, chop, chop ?
Hey!
Watch where you're walking, nigga.
H-hey, what you say, nigga?
Watch closely.
You're about to experience a "Nigga Moment. "
Webster defines the "Nigga Moment"
as a moment when ignorance overwhelms the mind
of an otherwise logical Negro male-
What did you say, bitch nigga?
Hey, squeeze it, nigga!
-causing him to act in an illogical,
self-destructive manner, I. E., like a nigga.
You want it? Right here.
Nigga Moments are unpredictable.
Hey, wait, man. Wait. This is stupid.
Hey, you right, dawg.
Look, let's put the guns away and go on about our business.
Freeze!
But they all end up bad.
If they had their own category, Nigga Moments
would be the third leading killer of black men
behind pork chops and FEMA.
It's a fact.
Now, let's see how a Nigga Moment
affects a white man.
Prick.
Watch where you walkin', bitch.
What did you-?
Wait a minute.
I'm white.
Where you goin'?
Don't you ignore me.
This is a perfectly good moment
to throw your life away.
A big misconception about the Nigga Moment
is that it can be avoided
by simply moving away from niggas.
If only it were that easy.
See, niggas always got a new trick
right around the corner.
? Ha-da-da-da, ha?
? Doo-dah-dah-deh-deh?
? Tuh?
Listen up, boys.
I'm about to sing the "New Shoes" song.
? New shoes?
? New shoooooes?
? Woo-hoo?
Boy, Nike makes some good shoes.
Hoo!
? Ave Maria?
Oh!
What the hell?
Hey! What's goin' on, man? Damn!
I know there's nobody in my space.
This is handicapped parking. Isn't it?
Don't do that, don't do that!
Yo, man, watch where you're going.
Stupid son of a bitch!
Every Nigga Moment begins with the nigga.
Without that key element,
all you're left with is peace and quiet.
Colonel H. Stinkmeaner is, and always has been,
a cantankerous, ornery old man.
He spent his childhood disagreeing with most things,
especially things involving happiness,
unity and kindness.
Stinkmeaner got no pleasure seeing sunsets and trees,
dolphins or rainbows.
Man, this some old bullshit.
So he didn't particularly mind
when at age 15, he lost his sight to cancer.
At least I don't have to look at your ugly ass no more.
The doctors gave him three years to live.
So he dedicated those three years
to spreading a lifetime of misery and hatred.
You danged fool!
Nobody knows how Stinkmeaner managed to live so long.
He believed it was his love of hatred that kept him going.
Who in the hell parked in my space?
That's like calling 1-800-Collect-An-Ass-Whupping.
And no, that ain't no toll-free call, partner.
You hit my car!
Are you blind?
Yes, I am! So?
Wait. You're blind?
Yes!
Blind!
You got a problem with that, ni-yagga?
You could have killed somebody.
I-I'd be doing them a favor.
Getting run over by me
is as close to an honorable death
as most of these people are gonna get.
Some days, I'm quite the humanitarian.
I think I hit a wheelchair on the way over here. Heh.
Oh, look what you did to Dorothy.
You'd better have insurance.
Ni-yagga, you better have insurance!
Ass-whupping insurance.
And you about to pay a deductible.
And just like that,
my granddad was trapped in a Nigga Moment.
At this point, he can:
Let's see which one he chooses.
That's right.
I backed into your car, ni-yagga.
What you gonna do?
Oh, hell nah.
Granddad, let's whup this nigga's ass right now.
Bitch-ass, faggot-ass,
punk-ass, pussy-ass, bitch-ass nigga.
Do you wanna do something,
bitch-ass ni-yagga?
Hold up.
I smell new shoes.
Awe, man.
Oh! Not the shoes!
Fool, what you- Hey!
I've said it before.
Expensive sneakers are like $150 land mines.
Step on one and boom!
A perfectly rational black man can explode.
Yeah!
They ain't new anymore are they, ni-yagga?
And that nigga's spittin' on you.
You better hit him, Granddad.
Hit him. Hit him! Yeah!
Hit him!
Oh!
Uh-oh.
Yeah! My bad knee!
Oh, Lordy-Lordy-Lord.
What you doing, man? My bad knee.
Oh, man.
Huh?
This fight is over.
? It's the eye of the tiger It's the cream of the fight ?
? Rising up to the challenge Of our rival ?
I hate this damn song.
I can't believe you got
your ass kicked by a blind man, Granddad.
My knee went out. You know I got a bad knee.
Bad knee? That nigga had bad eyes.
He couldn't see, Granddad.
He beat you like a piņata.
Nah.
Yo, we can rent Granddad out for Mexican birthday parties.
We can call him Seņor Piņata.
Hola, Seņor Piņata.
Stop it, boy! Stop it.
Where's my belt?
Whoo. Whoo.
I must be blind too,
'cause I sure didn't see that ass-whupping coming.
Boy. Riley.
Yo, how bad you gotta telegraph your punches
for a blind nigga
to see 'em coming, Granddad?
Riley, the man had a heightened sense of hearing.
Oh, I thought Granddad had a heightened sense of falling.
Now, that's enough.
Now, you just stop laughing at your granddaddy.
What's wrong with you? Granddad had "hit me"
written on his forehead in Braille.
I said, that's enough!
Okay. What you gonna do?
Beat me?
Maybe I should get a blindfold first.
Okay, I'm ready.
Wait.
Maybe he gonna fall on me.
Riley, stop.
Granddad... Rodney King just called,
and said...
"Damn, I thought I got my ass whupped!"
Ow!
That night, I dreamt of a blind swordsman.
? Poisonous paragraphs Smash ya phonograph in half ?
? It be the Inspector Deck On the warpath ?
? First class Leavin' mikes with a cast ?
? Causin' ruckus Like the aftermath ?
? From guns blast Run fast ?
? Here comes The verbal assaulter ?
? Rhymes runnin' wild Like a child in a walker ?
? I scored From the inner slums abroad ?
He knows my every move, yet, he cannot see.
As my mind fights to make sense of the impossible,
he has turned my sight into a liability.
? ... To electrify ?
? With voltage of an eel Truth that I'll reveal ?
? Crush the amateurs Who screamed to keep it real ?
? Caesar black down Hoodied up and fatigues ?
He has no just cause to want my life.
There is no forethought, no logic in his actions.
This isn't just any swordsman.
This is the Blind Nigga Samurai.
What's good, nigga?
What's really good?
Niggas.
A Nigga Moment isn't necessarily over
when you think it's over.
It kind of hangs around like a unpaid bill.
And in a case of the blind beating the dumb,
security cameras from the Woodcrest Square mall
captured a fight between a blind old man
and an unidentified assailant following a parking dispute.
Aw...
Man. It's just local news.
CNN has now confirmed that it was this man,
Robert Jebediah Freeman,
who got beat up by a slightly older,
significantly blinder gentleman.
Police aren't pressing charges against Mr. Freeman.
They say that ass-whupping was punishment enough.
We at CNN agree.
Granddad, I don't think
you should watch this anymore.
El residente de Woodcrest, Robert Freeman,
tiene un nuevo apodo: Seņor Piņata.
Oh, Patty.
Granddad, you gotta ask yourself,
would you really be better off
if you had beaten up a blind old man in the street?
It was a Nigga Moment, Granddad.
You gotta let it go.
Maybe you're right.
You have reached the Freeman residence.
If this is a lovely cutie-pie,
please leave a message.
Everybody else should just hang up right now,
because I'm not interested.
Come on, Robert. Pick up the phone.
I know you there in hiding.
I seen you on the news getting your black ass whupped
by that blind, old monkey.
That's why they shouldn't let niggas go shopping.
Call me back.
Don't you walk away from this answering machine.
Granddad, just let it die.
I promise you,
nobody's gonna call you a punk.
I will.
Well, Riley will.
Granddad.
I can't believe Granddad went back to fight that man.
Yo!
Check this out, Huey.
All right, all right.
Wait. Wait, wait.
Watch. Watch, watch. W-watch this.
Here it comes. Here it comes. Oh!
Eat this right here!
That song's shit.
Hey, you ever notice
whenever someone throws a chair,
a brawl jumps off?
Aren't you worried about Granddad?
Look, you wanna see it again?
Hey, look. Look. L-look, look, see?
I think you don't even have
to hit nobody with a chair.
And niggas will still start wilin' out.
Well, you don't look hurt.
Two weeks.
Good for you. A rematch in two weeks.
This'll be great.
Hey, we might be able to make some money off this.
"The Slugfest in Woodcrest. " Yeah.
You don't understand, boy. I have to do this.
Follow me.
I want you to see what you're up against.
Holy shit.
You remember the way he dodged your punch?
Your enemy is the Zatoichi.
The Blind Swordsman.
His ears give him more information
than all your senses put together.
If you underestimate him, he will kill you.
Ah!
You must train.
I won't fail you.
I'm not afraid.
Oh, you will be.
You will be.
And a one, two...
And a three... Wa-ta!
Ah. Between me and you,
your granddad shouldn't be too worried.
Everybody knows niggas can't fight.
I'm sorry?
You heard me, nigga. Niggas can't fight.
They don't possess the strength of character
or the mental quickness to be a great fighter.
That's why all the best fighters in the world
have always been white men.
Jack Dempsey,
Rocky Marciano,
"Slyvester" Stallone.
And don't forget Ralph Macchio.
You name me one great black heavyweight fighter.
Name one. Go ahead. Try and name one.
See that? You can't do it.
What? What, what, what?
Oh, oh, oh. You wanna pull Ali out your ass?
That what you thinking about?
Muhammad Ali?
Well, if that nigga's so tough,
then why he didn't go to Vietnam?
I'll tell you why.
'Cause he was scared. That's why.
Shoot. "No Vietnamese ever called me nigga. "
I call him a nigga eight times
before I have breakfast.
Now, what he gonna do? Hold on, I'll make it nine.
Nigga!
I don't understand why I'm blindfolded.
Because the enemy cannot see.
But, see, the thing is,
I don't have super hearing, so I don't get why I'm...
Fight!
Ow!
Stop!
Jean-Claude Van Damme
is the best martial artist in the world.
He killed a man with his butt cheek power.
Steven Seagal, David Carradine,
Chuck Norris.
Shoot. Walker, Texas Ranger?
Now, that's a karate man right there.
Word got out that my granddad was training for a rematch,
and it quickly became the talk of the town.
What was that?
An exhibition?
You need emotional content.
Now, try again.
Oooooh-ah-da!
Damn! That hurt.
Damn it, boy!
Hoo. Haa.
Ooh.
Everybody knows niggas climb trees, not kick 'em.
Riley had the brilliant idea
to take advance orders for the DVD release of the fight,
and take a little action on the side.
Ugh! Pain.
He hired a street team to create the necessary hype.
The fight had a huge turnout.
Come on...
Seems like watching niggas act stupid
was becoming America's favorite pastime.
Hey, listen up!
I'm gonna tell y'all one more time.
This fight ain't startin' till I get $10 from all y'all.
Hey. You. Nah, nigga, I didn't get yours yet.
Give me that.
That's the difference between private Nigga Moments
and public Nigga Moments.
A private Nigga Moment shames you.
A public Nigga Moment shames the whole race.
Ooh, this is it.
I'm gonna kick some ass now.
Granddad, the only way to win is not to fight.
That's right, Robert.
Nobody's gonna call you a fruity boy
or a pansy pants if you don't do this.
I will.
Right. Well, Riley will.
I mean, everybody's real focused so far.
Here we go.
You scared?
Yeah. You scared, ain't ya, bitch nigga?
I can smell the bitch in ya.
Hm, hm, mm...
Ooh, that's vintage bitch.
You must have Alzheimer's, old man.
You already forgot that ass-whupping?
Uh-oh. Huh-huh.
Oh, I hear ya coming.
And as I watched Stinkmeaner move blindly around the ring,
I had a terrifying realization.
He wasn't a trained swordsman,
and he didn't have super hearing.
He was a blind, old man who had just gotten lucky.
Granddad! Wait! No, stop!
Come on, Granddad.
I'm gonna keep comin' anyway!
Damn! Kick him in the nut.
You know, we could all be reading a book right now.
He got what he deserved, man.
Come on, now.
Wait a minute.
Oh. Oh, my goodness.
I can't believe it.
Dang, Granddad!
You didn't have to kill him.
And so, Granddad emerged
from the Nigga Moment victorious.
Congratulations, Robert.
I told you a nigga that black couldn't fight.
Whew! Good goin'.
Hey, that wasn't worth it, man.
I had my fingers crossed.
I want my money.
You owe me money, man.
Gimme my money back!
I want my money now.
Gimme my damn money, kid.
Oh, my God, a chair!
Hey, what does he think-?
I'm mad, man!
Necklace.
As he contemplated spending the remainder
of his natural life in prison,
Granddad never stopped to realize
that he had gotten the respect he so desperately wanted.
Yo, that mug killed a blind, old man with his bare hands.
Now, that's gangsta.
Robert Jebediah Freeman?
Tom and I had gotten the fight licensed
by the state boxing commission at the last minute,
legally indemnifying Granddad against Stinkmeaner's death.
But he was still pretty shook up by the whole thing.
Colonel Stinkmeaner had no family and no friends.
He lived a life without love or companionship,
or even pets.
He was a horrible, awful human being.
And in truth, the world was better off with him dead.
Still, he was our brother.
Lord, please forgive us for taking this man's life.
Why you say "us"? You killed him...
Shut your ass and pray, boy.