kevINda

John Mayer — Wanna Know Where You Can Put Your D*ck?

“I don’t think I open myself to it. My d*ck is sort of like a white supremacist. I’ve got a Benetton heart and a fu*kin’ David Duke c*ck. I’m going to start dating separately from my d*ck. …I always thought Holly Robinson Peete was gorgeous. Every white dude loved Hilary from The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. And Kerry Washington. She’s super hot and she’s also white-girl crazy. Kerry Washington would break your heart like a white girl. Just all of a sudden she’d be like, ‘Yeah, I sucked his d*ck. Whatever.’”

Dear John Mayer, (not that you will ever read this, but there’s always a snowball’s chance in hell, right?)

Wow. You are an enigma. I’ve always thought so. You seem to have this duality that puts you firmly on the side of righteous and cool one moment, and then smack-dab in the middle of stupid jock in the next moment.

I always thought your music aesthetic was kinda cool and soulful. You hung out with old, Black blues musicians. You performed at Michael Jackson’s memorial, and you kicked ass. I own one of your albums. Actually paid for it. And you’re ridiculously communicative and forthcoming with your fans, using the internet as not only a marketing tool, but as another form of artistic expression. Cool John Mayer.

But then, there’s the dumb-ass side. You’d always date, in incredibly blatant and public fashion, other celebrities who appear incredibly vapid, unartistic and just plain dumb. As if you-the-artist and you-the-man had never even met each other.

And now these comments in the March Playboy interview. I don’t think it’d be possible to piss of more African-American women than you have just now. I’m too confused to even be entirely angry at you. I keep re-reading your words thinking that I’m just not getting what it was that you were trying to say. I keep wanting to excuse the you-the-artist John Mayer, because the you-the-man John Mayer must have been drunk or sleep-deprived or slipped a mickey or concussed or something. Because, well… damn.

Once you get your foot out of your mouth, maybe that can be the new home for your David Duke dick. Because clearly it’ll never find its way anywhere near a Kerry Washington, a Holly Robinson Peete, or any other sister.

- Inda