It’s Over, B*tch!

Hours before the VMAs began, another Top Model marathon aired, followed by a repeat of The Hills – proving what we’ve known all along: music videos are no longer the bread and butter of Music Television. They have become a novelty on the network where if you’re lucky, you might catch a few moments of a video on the fledging TRL, or if you’re really lucky, early in the morning, you achieve the bigger rarity of viewing a video in its entirety. With that understanding, it’s no surprise that an awards show centered on awarding excellence in music videos on a network that no longer celebrates the medium to lose its sense of self and face a severe decline in relevance.

Speaking of loss of self and declining relevance, MTV has spent the last days leading into the award show promoting the ‘comeback’ performance of pop queen turned tabloid shrew, Britney Spears. There’s been video posted of her rehearsal posted on MTV.com, articles detailing the performance, and artist advice to Britney on the performance all in an effort to build anticipation for the performance (and give the show its first possible ratings bump in four years).

If only she had listened. Wearing a costume that would have been a perfect fit before the children and addiction to Taco Bell, Britney leisurely executed her choreography in her best impersonation of an intoxicated robot. She also looked heavily medicated; if only she shared her prescription with us. With shots of the audience either looking stunned or holding hysterical laughter in, everyone saw what seems to be sure fire proof that Britney’s career may not ever recover.

Fortunately for Britney, MTV did very little to raise the bar.

I’m not sure if I’m supposed to count the random performances that occurred during the Kanye, Justin/Timberland, and Foo Fighter parties that MTV wrongly assumed we needed to shoot back to every couple of minutes, so I’ll just forgo addressing most of them. I will ask whose bright idea was it to promote a slew of performances and only show a handful in their entirety?

Chris Brown’s performance would have been great if it were on So You Think You Can Dance. When performing a song, it would be grand if you actually took out the time to sing some of it. Points for originality go to him for being the billionth person to try and re-do Michael Jackson’s old moves on an award show.

When Rihanna appeared on stage to strut sex and sing a verse from summer anthem “Umbrella,” during Chris Brown’s set, one would assume that maybe Chris would join her in a duet given his appearance on the “remix.” That would make too much sense, I suppose.

Rihanna, in her best “bad girl” get-up, gave me another reason to call her a wackass by lipping the lyrics to “Shut Up and Drive” with a live band.

The highlight of the lowlights was Alicia Keys. Not a fan of the song, but she didn’t suck, so that alone will stop me from being hard on her. I won’t even talk about her stage attire. Nope. Won’t do it.

I couldn’t tell you who won what award, since they served as a backdrop for the entire show. I did catch Rihanna winning the night’s highest honor for video of the year. Talk about hard times.

I think the show’s only real winners are the advertisers.

Shia LeBeouf got to plug Indiana Jones 4.

Rhapsody very annoyingly tried to get me to log on to their site to pay to watch extra performances online every five seconds.

Curtis and Graduation received even more attention, giving me even more incentive to go out and support Kenny Chesney.

Jive promoted Britney’s album and the “Gimme More” ringtone, which I think took a lot of balls, because after that performance, why bother?

The only other winner I can think of is Christina Aguilera, whose pretty still laughing as I write this.

Last week several articles were written dissecting MTV and its relevance (or irrelevance) in pop culture. For years MTV defined what and who mattered, then somehow managed to find itself a step behind with the short attention span having generation they helped create. The pressure was on for MTV, and its chosen savior, Britney Spears, to deliver a show and performance that would serve as a testament to the durability of both brands.

Both Spears and MTV fell flat on their faces, exposing all of its ugly flaws to a world so ready to write both off into oblivion.

Neither did little to dissuade me from logging on to Youtube to see Britney at her peak and see the growing video site beat MTV at their own game.

Perhaps the network had the right idea with the Top Model marathon.

No Comprende

After watching her do the southside in the video for Destiny’s Child’s debut single, “No No No (Part II),” Beyonce found a special place in my heart. So special that I’ve always tried to make sense of her comments, no matter how untrue, poorly worded, or ridiculously stupid they may be. That includes everything from ‘unique interpretations of actual events’ dealing with ex-bandmates LeToya, LaTavia, and Farrah to ‘inaccurate but probably purely accidental’ claims to penning songs like their remake of BeeGees classic, “Emotion,” the megahit “Crazy In Love,” and her B-Day sales-saving smash “Irreplaceable.”

I’ve overlooked many of her indiscretions, including a performance at President Bush’s 2001 inauguration in which she commanded to the crowd, “Now let me hear you say Bush” without following up with the words “You stole the election!,” “Go fuck yourself!,” or “Please don’t ruin this country!” afterwards.

I even turned a deaf ear to thug-lusting, hood glorifying songs like “Soldier” while sternly warning my impressionable young niece to date a good looking nerd out of fear that the multi-tasking pop star’s message may have resonated with her.

Over the last few years, though, it’s become increasingly difficult to ignore such inane comments from her to the press like, “In order to be a strong woman, you must have a strong man.” I remember once suggesting that she look into wearing a muzzle, but after a while I thought that was a bit harsh. Not so much anymore.

At the age of twenty-six, one would think Beyonce has developed a certain degree of knowledge about the ways of the world, or at the very least, the ways of a highly-skilled publicist that can help guise the fact that she couldn’t get a clue on sale to anyone not privileged enough to know her personally (or willing to shill out $500 to meet her on tour). I’ve always known this, yet I chose to pretend it didn’t bother me; but now, I simply don’t know how much longer I can go on pretending – especially after reading her interview with Latina magazine.

Always looking to expand the brand and drain a project for all its worth like a merciless vampire (but no shade: get as much as you can while you’re still on top), Beyonce has released an all-Spanish EP dubbed Irreemplazable, featuring songs from the already re-released with Spanish songs B-Day album.

At the conclusion of the Q&A, Beyonce was asked if she had any thing that she would like to share with her Latina fans. She thanked her fans for embracing her. This embracement must have been overwhelming. So overwhelming Beyonce seems to be bitten by the jealously bug. She told interviewer, Angie Romero, “With the Latino stations, there was so much love and everyone is so genuine. I’m just jealous that I wasn’t born Latina. I wish I had been because the culture is so beautiful.”

Say what? Just last year was she not speaking about her Creole heritage, her proudly being a part of an all star black cast for a big-budget Hollywood musical, along with other feats she would like to accomplish as a black woman? Lest we forget she also said she makes ‘black records.’

How am I supposed to make sense of this? Should I be at least happy the interview wasn’t done in February?

I get that she’s just trying to crossover..and over…and over. I’m sure she’d tell a Beijing-based publication that she wish she learned Mandarin in second grade if she thought it would help her increase her profile in China.

Maybe she didn’t mean it the way it sounds, but this is yet another example of what happens when your parents let you drop out of school. I blame them.

The Ill Lockdown

Foxy Brown’s dreams have finally come to fruition: she has officially become Lil Kim.

After leaving New York twice without informing the court or the probation department, changing her address from Brooklyn to Mahwah, N.J. without permission, failure to tell the court of seven traffic summonses in New Jersey, forgoing attendance at anger management classes, and busting a neighbor upside the head with her cell phone, Judge Melissa Jackson has sentenced Inga Marchand to a year at Rikers Island.

Foxy, who has been promising us a new album for several years now, decided to go the demure route this time for her court appearance, dressing in what has been described by the Associated Press as an “elegant gray pantsuit.”

Begging and pleading for another chance at freedom, Foxy told the judge prison isn’t where she wants to be, and that she now realizes the error of her ways, and is willing to do whatever it takes to change. She said she’s been humbled.

“I’m not going to give you any more chances,” the judge told Brown. “I hope you turn your life around and never again have to stand in a court of law.”

Jackson replied, “Ms. Marchand, it’s too little, too late. I’m glad you’re learning something; that’s a positive.” TMZ also reports that the judged called her a great actress.

Ouch. Sounds like someone’s been listening to “Tambourine.”

I’ve always liked Foxy as a rapper, but over the years, her nonsensical rants, delusions of grandeur, and reported Korean-attacking antics make it hard to be sympathetic. I can’t feel bad for you going around acting as if you’ve had a hit within the last two years. Hell four.

I only worry about her because she’s pregnant, and I hate the idea of anyone having their child in prison.

Then there’s the issue of Lindsay, Paris, and Nicole all getting off. If Foxy wanted to act the fool and get away with it, she should have moved to California. On second thought, I’d rather they all be cellmates.

Ahh well. Maybe Foxy will finally learn that “Hot Spot” can only get you so far and that you don’t steal clothes, attack nail technicians, or impersonate Naomi Campbell. If we’re lucky, maybe someone at Rikers will hip her to a new lipstick color. Foxy’s lips have been looking like Barney for as long as I can remember.

Someone let me know when those “Free Foxy Brown” shirts are printed.

A Hunnid Years

I swear I’m not trying to make a new home via soapbox, but I just saw this video on a message board, and I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t point out how another part of me just died inside.

I love the South, I’m proud to be from the South, and I think a lot of the criticism southern hip hop gets isn’t fair given stupidity in music transcends regional boundaries, but in this instance, there’s not much I can refute.

We’ve gone from It Takes A Nation of Millions To Hold Us Back to this.

I’m sure Plies meant well, but when you speak like your tongue had a stroke, no one will take what you say seriously, no matter how profound it is.

Every other word being nigga doesn’t help much either. Or maybe I’m expecting too much despite knowing nine-year-olds that are more articulate. I’ve been warned about being a ghetto snob.

I’m sure this will be played on 106 and Park and the radio constantly all the same.

Carry on.

They Grow Up So Fast

Chris Brown strikes me as one of those nice kids that get corrupted the second they start taking someone’s bad advice and start trying to be something that they’re not.

It started with his tattoos.

It’s a problem when you presumably have money, or at the very least, a large enough advance check and access to the finest everything, yet you still have tattoos that look as if they were etched into your skin with a number three pencil. I’m broke with a better tattoo. That’s not right.

If you’re going to have ugly prison tats, get them in places that won’t prevent you from securing roles. Or if you’re going to be marked where all can see, get something better than a skull and…I don’t know what that’s supposed to be. A ring, I guess. Whatever it is, it’s corny, because Chris Brown is not hard.

Thugs don’t dress like Urkel and proceed to spin and dip. I know where you got that from, Chris.

Not fly. He looks as if the photographer caught him between a bad case of gas or jock itch. Either way, smooth criminal you are not.

And then there’s the video sitting atop of the entry. While I am impressed by his strength, listening to some grown man that looks like a Ja-Fakin’ version of Homie the Clown tell you what to do on stage isn’t the way to start off adulthood.

Don’t get me wrong, I like Crust Brown (thank you, Blu), I really do. He sort of reminds me of Al B. Sure only with rhythm. You know, light skinned, can’t really sing. But I do like him, which is why I’m worried.

I began to tolerate “Wall to Wall” despite the video. I can’t get into “Kiss, Kiss,” though. I’m sure it will be a hit, because T-Pain is on it, but the idea of someone that’s been declared the future of R&B already seeking out an easy hit isn’t a good sign for his thrown.

It’s like his handlers saw something obviously working, but being the geniuses that they are, decided to change everything in an effort to perpetuate the status quo. It’s doing wonders, with one single already tanking, another rushed out, and a third single with an accompanying video set to be released before the album (that’s been since pushed back) is released in Novemeber.

If I were Chris, I’d have that etch-a-sketch inspired-tattoo burned off the second after I tell my A&R rep that’s a special place he or she can kiss, kiss.

Are You Reading?

I take it CNN decided to go with Tony Harris because he’s black and already working the shift, but in future debates, I think it would be best if they went with someone who actually watches BET. If you have to ask if “A Bay Bay” is aired mid-afternoon you’re not watching BET. Very anchor-like, he’s talking over the guests to throw out his own opinion, but he’s clearly misinformed about the network’s programming. Way to prove your point, Tony.

When I first saw it, I thought it was satire. It sounds like Lil Jon’, the lyrics are telling children to read a book the same way most current songs on the Hot 100 tell them to bend over, so I pretty much got what the people behind the song and video were going for early on.

Perhaps the notion that you have to speak to audiences in this way to grab their attention is an issue, but I didn’t personally find it offensive.

If anyone should be mad about the video, it should be Aaron McGruder, because it’s swagger jacking his style to the nth degree.

I’m more intrigued by the BET being behind this. The irony.

Now that mainstream media and Jesse have all pounced on this, I get the feeling this debate will only intensify.

If only this show were still popular.

Is This Your Cup Of Tea?

I really don’t like the idea of me seeming old at the age of 23, or even worse, a prude. But after listening to a song called “Teabag Dat Hoe,” I think I’m ready to grab my walker and turn on Hi- Five’s “The Kissing Game” as I’m beginning to value subtly.

I have been called vulgar, once, twice, more times than I can count — and that was just last night. But, I’ve never said “drop them nuts all in her throat” over a Casio-made beat. I do have standards.

I heard of this song a long time ago, only I blocked it out with the hopes that if I didn’t hear it, it would never become real. So much for that.

The poetic geniuses behind this masterpiece make 2 Live Crew look like Boyz II Men down on bended knee.

Despite the misogynistic lyrics, this special ode to oral therapy has still managed to find fanfare among some impressionable young girls everywhere.

Check out the comments of the song on Big Booty 21′s imeem playlist.

DIS SHYT B GOIN OFF SHAWTYYYYYY ~!#$TEABAG DEM H0EZ$#@!~ LMMFAOOO

teabag dat hoeeeee lol this is the shit haha

lol ya gotta do my folk..dis shit crunk ass hell…….And Ya Kno Dis ……..nisha

It’s times like these that make you appreciate the illiterates of the world.

If you want to hear the actual song, you can click on that link. I opted not to embed the stream on my blog. Call it a hunch.