Funny Black Man Quotes & Sayings

He had the prettiest hair she had ever seen on a man: dark brown, almost black, and soft like sable, it fell down to his shoulders. She wondered what he'd do if she threw some mud in it. Probably kill her. — Ilona Andrews

The door to the situation room door opened, drawing her attention to a tall, lean man with eyes as sharp as razors.
The sound of a metal chair scraping on the tile floor filled the room as Reed shot to his feet, stood at attention, and saluted crisply.
The man stopped, scowled, and heaved a heavy sigh. "All right you clown. At ease. It hasn't been that long since I've been here."
"Just showing my respect, sir," Reed said with a smart-ass grin. "It's not often we're fortunate enough to be in the company of such greatness. — Cindy Gerard

Have you heard his new song? 'Cause he thinks he's a black man now. — Natasha Leggero

A man doesn't like to have his ego popped, especially when he prides himself on his sagacity, and then to be proved wrong by a man who claims he doesn't know anything. — E.A. Bucchianeri

My dad was a complicated man. He was a huge racist, my dad, but he still tried to be a good father, you know? Like, he would tell me that Santa Claus was black - that way, when I found out he didn't exist, it wouldn't be that big a let down. — Anthony Jeselnik

The lawyer was a short, ugly, little man. He stood about three feet taller than his desk's two foot eight inch frame and he had dark eyes. Lois couldn't tell if they were black or an extremely dark brown. His hair was dirty blonde and very messy. He looked as if he had just crawled out of bed. His white button up shirt was tucked in on only one side and the other side hung out freely. He wore a pair of tan khakis and a pair of black loafers. His skin almost matched the khakis which was extremely creepy and Lois kept thinking the man wasn't wearing pants. — Rebecca McNutt

He looks like a horse in a man costume! — Dylan Moran

White man makes guns? No problem. Black rapper says "gun"? Congressional hearing. — Chris Rock

You know your problem, Quentin? You keep expecting people not to be themselves. I mean, I could hate you for being massively unpunctual and for never being interested in anything other than Margo Roth Spiegelman, and for, like, never asking me about how it's going with my girlfriend - but I don't give a shit, man, because you're you. My parents have a shit ton of black Santas, but that's okay. They're them. I'm too obsessed with a reference website to answer my phone sometimes when my friends call, or my girlfriend. That's okay, too. That's me. You like me anyway. And I like you. You're funny, and you're smart, and you may show up late, but you always show up eventually. — John Green

Farrakhan got everybody together for the Million Man March and everything. But Farrakhan don't like the Jews. Which is bugged. I get my hair cut on Dekalb Avenue. I never been in a barbershop and heard a bunch of brothers talking about Jews. Black people don't hate Jews. Black people hate white people! We don't got time to dice white people up into little groups. I hate everybody! I don't care if you just got here. "Hey, I'm Romanian." "You Romanian cracker!" — Chris Rock

How's your head?" the larger man asked.
"Do me a favor and cut it off," Black muttered. "It's more pain than it's worth right
now. — Tricia Owens

As I sorted through my confusion, I started to get mad. More and more, this had turned into one grotesque comedy of mishaps, and I didn't think it was funny. How much did the rat know? And while we're at it, hot much did the man in the black suit know? Here I was, smack in the center of everything without a clue. At every turn, I'd been off base, way off the mark. Of course, you can say the same about my whole life. In that sense, I suppose I had no one to blame. All the same, what gave them the right ti treat me like this? I'd been used, I'd been beaten, I'd been wrung dry. — Haruki Murakami

She opens the book. Each sheet has one or two antique photographs stuck with corner tabs. The images are neither black and white nor gray, but hold that brownish gold of time and exposure to air.

"This man is your great grandfather. Look at that face, Pedro. It is a mean mean face." He's standing in front of a wood pile, holding an axe. "I think he was only a teenager there, a long time before he met my mother. But look how handsome he was. And how mean."

It's funny the way she smiles when she talks about him. Saying he's mean has a perverse joy for her, as if she can stick her tongue out at him and his hands are tied so he can't slap her for doing it. She's right, though. There's no lingering smile, no potential for mirth in the burlap of his skin. I notice snow on the ground at his feet, but he's wearing a thin, unbuttoned shirt, showing no sign of cold. — Laurie Perez

What you fought was a dead man, possessed by a disease.' - Setrakian
'What
like a pinche zombie?' - Gus
'Think more along the lines of a man with a black cape. Fangs. Funny accent. Now take away the cape and fangs. The funny accent. Take away anything funny about it.' - Setrakian — Guillermo Del Toro

Right now, I couldn't have cared less if someone had waltzed across the room in a large flower costume with a sign saying GET YOUR BLACK TULIPS HERE. Every nerve in my body was on man-alert, screaming, incoming! — Lauren Willig

Jace?" She offered him the glass.
"I am a man," he told her. "And men do not consume pink beverages. Get the gone, woman and bring me something brown."
"Brown?" Isabelle made a face.
"Brown is a manly colour," said Jace and yanked on a stray lock of Isabelle's hair with his free hand. "In fact, look-Alec is wearing it."
Alec looked mournfully down at his sweater. "It was black," he said. "But then it faded."
"You could dress it up with a sequined headband," Magnus suggested. — Cassandra Clare

Then there was the man who declared in court, he wasn't a person. "Excuse me, sir, why haven't you paid your taxes." "Well, as you can clearly see, I am not a person." "Well, you look like a person." "No it's all done with mirrors, trust me!" — Lewis Black

Religion is like a blind man looking in a black room for a black cat that isn't there, and finding it. — Oscar Wilde

Once more Mary Jo, Bobby, Kevin, Dennis, Raymond, Lucille, Frankie, Coddles, Lyle, John, Andy, Miss Ursula, Jim, Lonnie, Postmaster Jones, William, Travis, Todd, Tony, Dennis M. . . . On the ride home from Sheriff's office, everyone was again on porches or at windows. Daron didn't call out their names this time, and this time no one waved. Where do the black people live? In the front yards! It was funny. (I guess that's better than the back of the bus, Louis had later added. Daron had thought that funny, too.) Louis's absence was always noticeable. Though skinny, he'd filled space like a fat man on a crowded elevator, except a welcome addition, not someone who provoked strangers to regard each other with situational solidarity. He had, in fact, induced people to regard each other with suspicion, to question the known. — T. Geronimo Johnson

As Eve strode down the bright white corridor of the dead, Peabody hustled beside her.
"Man, this place is always a little spooky, but this is beyond. You know how you half expect one of these bags to sit up and grab at you?"
"No. Wait out here. If one of them makes a run for it, give me a call."
"I don't think that's particularly funny." And watching the still black bags warily, Peabody took her post at the door. — J.D. Robb

Everybody clapped enthusiastically and Dr. Marx popped up from behind the podium, where he had been hiding all along. He was the hairiest man the pirates had ever seen. Several of the crew were actually worried for a moment that the Seaweed That Walked Like a Man had returned from one of their previous adventures to ambush them. His nose was hairy. His forehead was hairy. Even his hands were hairy. And his beard was a great bushy black number, which looked like he had sellotaped a bunch of cats to the bottom of his face and then frightened them with a loud noise. — Gideon Defoe