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She just looks like she’ll whoop a *&$#@’s ass. That or she’ll cook Hazel and Gretel.

If you’ve read one interview with Beyonce, you’ve read them all. They’ll start off with the story of Destiny’s Child: four little girls with a dream to be music superstars who went on Star Search, lost, but persevered and ultimately became one of the most popular girl groups in history. Then it segues into the story of the first break up with LeToya Luckett and LaTavia Roberson, which builds to a blip about the second breakup involving Farrah Franklin. Beyonce will then not reveal anything too personal about herself, choosing instead to hype her material. You know, like calling a song about being pissed off that some trife dude you bought a lot of things for moved on to another fool a new anthem for female empowerment. Jay-Z will come up, and she’ll uh oh right around that question, despite purposely being photographed with him every chance she gets and spinning the “Are they? Aren’t they?” factor to promote her singles.

Beyonce is never asked any of the hard questions and if by chance some lucky journalist bypasses her publicist to pose a question not included in the press release, Beyonce will give you an even blanker stare than she normally does. If you ever wondered where she gets it from, take a look at this link. It’s a video from an interview with a local CBS affiliate in Chicago about the House of Dereon line. Tina is quick to cut off the reporter who relayed messages to the “fashion designer” from boutique owners complaining that their clothes don’t fit their clients. It’s a fair question given both Knowles’ touting the label as something catering to the curvy woman. Unless you’re telling the Knowles’ how great they are and how wonderful everything they produce is, they don’t want to hear it.

“Question?” Sure, if it’s pre-appoved.

Spotted over at Concrete Loop.

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Dear Janet,

You didn’t read my letter the first time, did you? Probably tossed it to the side like one of Rebe’s telegrams asking for money. That’s cold blooded, Damita. I prayed for your ass and everything, too. Anyhow, the point of my letter this time is to have a little talk with you about your tits. Don’t flinch on me. You show them off like you’re breast feeding the world, so let’s not be coy now. Like I said, you’re sexy, you like having troll sex with Jermaine, and you’re happy to have lost those pounds. Now I know you’re going to show your body off over and over again. That’s a given. But, maybe you can, I don’t know, not show your tits so much. They get you into trouble. Haven’t you learned? I’m only speaking out of concern for your new album’s performance. I think it would be a good idea if you didn’t remind people of why the media bitch slapped you the first time, you know? Try showing your ass more. A thigh or something. At this point flashing your big toe might help fight off the lingering backlash. And while I have your attention let’s talk about a recent tidbit you revealed about your sex life (you know I really love how you find so many new topics about yourself to tell the press): “You can’t do ‘Nine Inch Nails’ everyday. You’d be bruised, cut up and a little raw.” That’s you on playing Nine Inch Nails to vamp it up in the bedroom. See, I didn’t need to know all of that. If some loud ass man screaming at you over a hard rock beat helps you get off, do your thisel, Jan. It’s sort of one of those things you just don’t share with too many people, though. I’m just saying.

Just helpful tips from a fan. Hopefully you’ll take some of them to heart, or in your case, breast. Good luck with the album…you’ll need it.

P.S. I’m watching you on the Today Show. You look fly as shit. Thanks for never bringing Khia on stage with you. 🙂

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My last entry about Brad Pitt was mostly done in jest. Poor wording aside, Brad meant well, and it says a lot about he and Angelina to go out of their way to educate themselves on how to properly care for Zahara. I’m stating this merely to get the point across that I’m not I’m hypersensitive. Alright, now that the disclaimer is out of the way, let’s take a look at this magazine cover, shall we. My intial reaction was what the fuck? My reaction five minutes later is the same. Was Naomi busy the day of the shoot or something? Is this supposed to actually help drive the point home? Blackface is never right under any circumstances. I understand what they’re trying to do with this cover but this, like those “I Am African” ads, are executed poorly. Oh how out of touch the liberal elite continue to be. Or maybe it’s just me. Does Kate Moss in blackface make you care more about the AIDS crisis in Africa?

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This makes me laugh, because I know he meant well, but it’s so poorly worded, you can’t help but initially give that statement the screwface. That’s more of an editorial issue, though. I actually appeciate Brad and Angelina’s effort to do something with Zahara’s hair. The girl is beautiful, and she shouldn’t be walking around with a dry ass Afro because mommy and daddy are confused. Now when she’s old enough to be featured on Page Six, she will have a bomb ass do.

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In the latest issue of Sister 2 Sister, rapper, actor, reality TV star, and colored version of Steven Segal, DMX spoke candidly about fathering a child with a Washington D.C. woman. The rapper claims that the woman raped him, which resulted in her pregnancy.

“She raped me,” the rapper told S2S editor Jamie Foster Brown. “I mean, you know, that might sound like some bullsh*t. No man has ever been… you know what I mean, like never? Is that the only thing in the world that’s not possible?”

Mrs. Simmons recalled an earlier encounter with the woman. “Before the stuff hit the fan, she came up to us while we were in court and said ‘I work for kids that are sickly,’ said Tashera. “So he said ‘Give her my number.’ That’s how it goes all the time. At first, I said OK. But, then I thought she looked deranged and obsessed with him.”

While his wife “blocks out” the experience to cope, X gained a more valuable lesson: “Turn on the light before I go to sleep,” he said.

I have a couple of questions to ask DMX.

What type of fool do you take us for?

How exactly does this rape thing work? I mean, I could see if you were raped through coerced anal penetration or even oral, but how did she manage to get you sexually aroused, erect, and have sexual intercourse with you through brute force?

Are you aware that you and this story both sound as backwards as this question mark? Explain this to me. Was this woman the size of former WWE female wrestler Chyna or kin to Mo’nique or the Lady of Rage? You seem quite strong, and we all know crackheads can lift an Escalade when high. I need for you to elaborate, so that I understand and feel your pain.

Is this all just an attempt to get a second season of “Soul of a Man?”

Does your wife really believe you, or do you have her smoking whatever it is fooled you into believing the general public would buy this story?

Get at me, dog.
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I am no fan of the Rosie O’Donnell of recent years. She seems bitter. She seems petty. She comes across as a word that’ll launch a massive U-N-I-T-Y email campaign directed at me should I use it here. But, for all of her faults, I will concede that she speaks candidly and passionately. She says what she feels is her truth – that’s a quality I can always appreciate. Earlier this week on ‘The View’, O’Donnell responded to co-host Elizabeth Hasselback’s comment that radical Islam is a grave threat with, “Radical Christianity is just as threatening as radical Islam in a country like America.” Another View co-host, Joy Behar, responded to O’Donnell by boasting, “But, but Christians are not threatening to kill us. There’s that difference. This group is threatening to kill us.”

When your President is a born again Christian and his foreign policy more or less is based on facilitating the Rapture, I don’t think comments like O’Donnell’s are as far fetched as some people, mainly Christians, would like them to be.

As for Behar, there’s that whole war in Iraq that has been proven several times over as baseless that she may have heard about.

And just when you think only Elizabeth Hassleback and Joy Behar are foolish enough to place the sole blame of current conflict on radical Islam, Pope Benedict XVI decides to chime in and add more fuel to the fire. Offering a lecture on the relationship between faith, reason and violence at Regensburg University in Germany (what a place to deliver a message like this, Father), on Islam, the Pope said, “Show me just what Muhammad brought that was new, and there you will find things only evil and inhuman, such as his command to spread by the sword the faith he preached.”

What an interesting comment to make from the leader of the Catholic Church, because obviously Catholics, or should I say Christians in general never used force to spread the faith they championed. Perish the thought.

Besides, Christians never initiated the violence that spurred holy wars such as the Crusades. Never.

The Pope has since apologized for his remarks, saying he is “deeply sorry” and that the statement issued did not reflect his personal opinion. “These words were in fact a quotation from a medieval text which do not in any way express my personal thought,” said Pope Benedict XVI. That’s right. Earn your invite back to Turkey.

Were O’Donnell’s comments really out of line? Let’s ask Jerry Falwell. One year after the attacks of 9/11, Falwell placed much of the blame for the attacks on the Federal Courts for “throwing God out of the public square.” He also criticized those “who have tried to secularize America: pagans, abortionists, feminists, gays and lesbians who are actively trying to make that an alternative lifestyle, the ACLU, and People for the American Way.”

Great way to bring the American public together under this great threat Islam is purportedly placing on us.

This hate-filled rant doesn’t differ much from bin Laden blasting Western society for its “evils” that threaten Muslims and their way of life.

Not to be outdone, Pat Robertson has always made his feelings about Muslims clear. “These people are crazed fanatics, and I want to say it now: I believe it’s motivated by demonic power. It is satanic and it’s time we recognize what we’re dealing with.” On Islam in general: “Islam is not a religion of peace” and “the goal of Islam, ladies and gentlemen whether you like it or not, is world domination.” Pat Robertson, meet European imperialism.

One week prior, Osama bin Laden’s second-in-command, Ayman al-Zawahrir, invited all Americans to convert to Islam. Like Robertson, I recall bin Laden once likening American culture to Satanism.

The more things change the more they stay the same. Zealotry continues to be cause of major world conflicts. Hello modern-day Crusades. Thank you, Rosie O’Donnell.

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A spokesperson for Whitney Houston has confirmed to Access Hollywood that the party is over. Earlier today, Nancy Seltzer, speaking for Houston, revealed that the star has split from my favorite New Jack era crooner and Kang of R&B, Bobby Brown, her husband of 14 years. The Kang and Nippy have one daughter, Bobbi Kristina, whose myspace you’ve probably viewed dozens of times (she ought to be doing some homework). According to Access Hollywood’s report, Houston, previously praised as a vocal marvel but in recent years has hit every note but the right one due to a battle with drugs, made a surprise appearance at the Beverly Hilton Hotel (which is quite spiffy) at “The Society of Singers Presents the 15th Annual Ella Award honoring Johnny Mathis” (whew, what a long title). She appeared with Clive Davis and her cousin, singer Dionne Warwick. In the article, they make note of how healthy she looked. Here’s a picture of Whitney from the event:

I’ll say it for you: drugs kicked her ass. I mean that powder got up, bodyslammed her, spit in her face, then sucker punched her after she got back to her feet. But, I will admit, this is an improvement. All jokes aside, it’s nice to see Whitney working towards improving her health and her career. Still, it’s very sad to see her marriage end. Join me tonight as I sing, “Saving All My Love For You,” “Roni,” and “My Name Is Not Susan” (The Karrine Remix).

Now Osama is really going to try to get at Whitney.

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In honor of the release of her sophomore album, B’Day, Beyonce decided to ride the B train to the site of her cd signing. Yes…I’m serious. I love how happy she looks to be there.

Beyonce’s equivalent to riding the yellow school bus on the way to the museum.

Beyonce: So you people really have to ride this thing to get to and from places?
Woman to her right: How many times do I have to tell your ass yes?
Woman to her left: I’m going to keep looking this way. Hopefully she won’t ask me any dumb ass questions.

Roll your eyes all you want. I got a ride.

Beyonce: Sigh. I couldn’t sit with them anymore, they haven’t copped B’Day yet.
Woman at the bottom right: Yeah, you better hold that chain.


Ok, hurry up and snap the picture so I can hop back in Jay’s Maybach.

Damn! I’m glad I’m rich.

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This is how I flush the toilet. When I’m not heading for the tub for water to flush, I discover that mice have climbed on top of my Microfridge to eat the bread I had to ask my younger brother to help me pay for, the cable and internet service I enjoyed in the past have been cut off, and plumbing is now considered a luxury.

Not to be outdone, Howard University did its typical dick over only in new, more complicated and annoying ways.

I don’t have any money to think, much less eat, and I waited in line for nearly two hours (on top of the other two hour lines that day) to discover my schedule will be far too difficult to do one in a single semester so I will be stuck in D.C. for two.

Currently sitting in the library forgetting about the original reason why I came in here because I just found out one option for new housing is no longer one. I’m multi-tasking – also silently hoping that the holds on my account that the people in student accounts admitted are of no fault of mine are finally removed. Pleading up above that the millionth loan I’ve had to take out to pay for this massive nearly five-year long headache has finally been disbursed so that I can find a new place to live. Oh yeah, and actually live, too.

Back home I’m hearing stories of other siblings and friends going through worse. I never feel better when someone tells me that there’s always someone out there worse off than you. That only makes me feel even worse for the next person suffering.

Someone earlier in the week told me I was depressing them. Someone else asked me to smile. Yes, that’s the type of feedback you want from your friends.

“You never come to D.C. with the right attitude.” When this person comes to D.C. they’re on Cloud Nine. When I come I get guns pointed in my face, and I black out from all of the stress I’m under. That stress usually stems from trying to figure out how to pass my classes when the place you’re living in continuously has its lights turned off.

I should have found a new place to live. That is my fault. As is foolishly attempting to tackle a 42-credit course load in a single year. Those were all my mistakes, and I’m still paying for them. I don’t make apologies for them. It’s mostly my fault (the other portion goes to Dick Over University), so it is what it is.

But come on, let me be down. I’m trying to move. I get back in every single line I have to get into to get things done (which they’ll only fuck up again, but I digress). As bad as I’d like to at times (even after knowing I could have a job), I’m not dropping out. And despite someone telling me all I ever do is talk about myself, I listened to my good friend for two hours last nite pour their heart out. Selfish (and depressing) me.

I’m not including the debt that’s hitting me from all sides. I should have gone to school in Texas. I would be driving a Lexus if I did.

This blog entry really serves no purpose other than just letting me vent my frustrations. I’m frustrated. I’m angry. I’m sad. I’m alone. I’m not smiling and I’m not apologizing for it.

Everyone can’t be strong all the time.

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5, 4, 3, 2, 1….

You miss cable the second you no longer have it. Thanks to the generosity of a friend, I was able to view the 2006 MTV Video Music Awards. Is it wrong to say I’m refraining from commenting too much because Viacom has been good to me? Probably so, but lemme ‘lone. I just want to host the show myself. I’ll leave it at that. But I will ask why would an award show whose premise is to award those for putting forth excellence in the [lost] art of music video making hand out an award for best ringtone?
In a word, yawn.

Yawn for Justin. Did he say “Bye Bye Bye” to his choreographer? His rhythm seems to be…..goooone.

Yawn for Christina “I Will Beat You With My Voice Until You Realize I Can Saaaang Dammit” Aguilera. She started off just fine, and then the over singing that was bound to happen did happen. Subtly goes a long way, Christina. Just ask Mariah Carey.

Yawn to that band on the treadmill that I’ve never heard of. People find that clever? Really?

Snore to Jake Black. I know he has a following but his humor has never provided me with any significant amount of laughter. Nacho Libre just made me yearn for Taco Bell/Cabana/Pappacito’s.

The only thing that really caught my attention was all of the sore loser looks on the faces of Christina Aguilera, Chris Brown, and Mr. Humble himself, Kanye West. Chris looked like his mom just yelled, “Didn’t I tell your ass to be in the house once the street lights come on!” I feel bad for him.

Beyonce looked genuinely shocked she won for Best R&B Video. Sort of like, “Ya’ll really giving me an award for this song? It was a joke.” Slim Thug looked happy as hell to be on stage, didn’t he? Like, I damn sure wasn’t going to make it on stage doing videos with LeToya. Just kidding, Toya. I’m sure she’ll get there soon. Shout out to Hiram Clarke.

Back to Beyonce. “Ring The Alarm…I been through this too long…but I’ll be damned if I don’t bite the dance routine of my favorite Janet song.”

I guess since Janet is no longer welcomed, she might as well be there in spirit. Good job for keeping the spirit of Damita alive, Beyonce Jackson.

T.I. was dull. I usually like his energy, but the song he performed is almost as old as the story of the Amistad, and watching little off beat chirren snap to an unsnappable song isn’t entertaining. Neither was watching Ludacris, an awkward looking Pharrell, and a strutting Nicole and her slave dolls perform “Money Maker.” Is it me or does Ludacris look like a mini Steve Harvey. You know, young Steve Hightower back in the ’70s when he first penned the lyrics to “Break Me Off A Piece of That Funk.”

That’s all I can remember from that show, which just goes to show you how hard I’ve been attempting to get my current dilemma(s) off my brain.

The show needed three things: Me in a house with internet and cable. Me not needing a bucket to flush the toilet. And a performance from Britney Spears.

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