Remember that movie The Sixth Sense with Bruce Willis? He walked around living his life, treating his patient, trying to understand why his marriage was falling apart. Spoiler alert. The nigga was dead. That movie works on so many levels, but mainly because it plays to our inability to take a hard look at ourselves. Every time I am at a club and I hear a Ratchet whisper about another girl being ratchet, I think about The Sixth Sense. Ratchets don't know they're ratchet, and it is so funny to watch Ratchet A rag on Ratchet B for doing the same things she does. That's fun and innocent, just another day in ratchetville. What bothers me are the Basic Bitches who dare to call other women Basic. Ratchets have swag, they have self-confidence, and regardless of how flea market they look, you can't tell them they aren't the hottest chicks in the club. Ratchet Rochelle will be in the spot, tampon string dangling, while she's booty popping to "Bring It Back". But she's not embarrassed, she's like, "Least I ain't pregnant, hoe" as she proceeds to pop a birth control pill and wash it down with Ciroc Coconut. Call it what you want, but that is a woman sure of herself. Basic Bitches are worse than ratchets because they are arrogant for no reason, their confidence doesn't come from who she is, it comes from who she thinks she is. Basic Bitches are in denial, they're like Natalie Nunn screaming, "I run LA", clinging to some notion that she's a celebrity because she can get into a club for free.
Basic Bitches are the weakest women in the world. They mask their inferiority with brand names. Blame their shortcomings on others. Hate on things they don't have. And put way too much stock into what others think of them. We men love basic bitches; it's like shooting ratchets in a Rainbow dressing room. Basic Bitches get ran through by men of a higher class and then call them jerks. He used you for sex, so what—you are not 12 years old you know what men want. Maybe if you spent more time ...