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Snoop has failed to live up to the promise of Doggystyle, but I have to give the man credit: He has consistently found ways to remain relevant. I’ve even enjoyed some of his post-Death Row creations. Yes, that even includes some of his work with No Limit.

I’m almost afraid to admit this, but despite the likely scorn that will follow, I liked Tha Blue Carpet Treatment. And while the song may indeed be incredibly misogynistic, I love “Which One of You.” The song pretty much comes across as Snoop fooling around. Still, I secretly want to walk in a club and scream, “Which one of you bitches like me?” I wonder if I could a free drink that way. If you’re wondering, I would say it as respectful as possible.

Anyway, this time around Snoop has hopped on the T-Pain bandwagon and gotten himself a vocoder to use for the first single from his ninth studio album, “Sexual Eruption.” I’m not even bothered by the swagger jacking, because I think he sounds better than T-Pain with it.

The video for “Sensual Seduction” (damn you, FCC) is hilarious. It’s like a Mad TV sketch gone well (yeah, they’re not that funny). Who knew a video that lifts from old Prince and Rick James treatments with a budget of $3.75 could be so enjoyable? If he doesn’t get a nomination for this video, I’m going to be pissed. If nothing else, I appreciate the fact that he doesn’t take himself seriously.

He inspires me to pursue my backup dream of recording my would-be debut album, I Can’t Sing, But I Still Have Platinum Dreams. I want to be that guy that prompts you to say, “He can’t sing worth a damn, but dammit if his shit ain’t hot.” Someone known for their style, finely tailored image, and catchy over produced songs crafted for radio. I could be the male Rihanna. (It’s a compliment, I swear!)

Give me a few more months in the gym, a pole, and a vocoder and watch the R&B game become mine. My two step is that lethal.

Thank you, Snoop. I’m thinking about sending him a gift as a show of appreciation. I suppose he’d want something like a dime bag.

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If you remember Farrah Franklin (and if you don’t, I completely understand), you can recall her brief stint in Destiny’s Child that consisted of two video appearances, maybe four televised performances, and about five minutes in the MTV Diary special on Destiny’s Child that led to her getting the boot. Since then she’s been in a couple of men’s magazines, videos for R.L. and Mr. Cheeks, and appeared on Wendy Williams’ radio show – where Wendy said she’s fine as long as she has Pro Tools. Not sure whatever happened to her record deals with Nelly and Fabolous, but ever the trooper, Farrah Franklin proves that there ain’t nothing going on but the rent. She makes her acting debut in One Love Films’ Single Black Female. You can check out the trailer by clicking on the video above.

The film also features Slim Thug, Chris Rock’s brother, and that guy who was in that show from a while ago. I can’t knock the straight-to-DVD game: It gives black filmmakers a chance and it makes people money. Who buys these films? I don’t know, but ya’ll are out there, so I’m seriously considering grabbing my camera phone (Hey, it’s a Sony, which means it’s good quality! Don’t hate!), finding Teairra Mari, Keyshia Cole’s mama (she’s a star), and that Hispanic guy from Immature’s numbers, and pitching a movie. Spike Lee, watch out!

And if you were wondering, yes, Farrah still looks like Fat Cat to me.

Ya’ll are lying if you say you don’t see the resemblance!

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Possibly calling his weed man.

As we all know (or at least should know) most politicians are liars who will tell you anything to win your vote. If you tell a politician your child is a functioning illiterate, they’ll promise you old footage of Reading Rainbow and all the Curious George your heart desires.

If you speak on the plight of the poor, they will say they feel your pain as they rush to the exit to make their $500-a-plate fundraising gala on time.

Ask a politician their favorite Biblical verse and you’ll be sure to get anything from distorted lines of religious prayers to Yolanda Adams lyrics.

If you’re anti-war, they’ll tell you they’re all for bringing the troops home — though they remain reluctant to share any of the blame for giving President Bush the authority to go to war in the first place, will add that we can’t just pull out now, and more than likely won’t share with voters that they just voted for a bill with the same language that Bush and co. could use to invade Iran (Hello, Hillary).

But what politicians like to lie about most is their actions before they entered public life. If George Bush were forthright with his past as a cokehead, I’d be more sympathetic to his dimwitted decisions in foreign policy.

Then again, not saying anything is a lot less irritating than the Clintonian way of answering a question – which dictates you pop, lock, and drop around any tough question thrown at you, opting instead to throw out a lot of words without saying much of anything.

Take for instance, Bill Clinton’s response to a question about Monica Lewinsky in a deposition over the Paula Jones/Monica Lewinsky matter:

It depends on what the meaning of the word ‘is’ is. If the–if he–if ‘is’ means is and never has been, that is not–that is one thing. If it means there is none, that was a completely true statement. . . . Now, if someone had asked me on that day, are you having any kind of sexual relations with Ms. Lewinsky, that is, asked me a question in the present tense, I would have said no. And it would have been completely true.

You know what, he’s married, he’s the President, and he is a living testament to the song “Area Codes,” so in some respects I can understand why he chose to argue over semantics rather than be more forthright about playtime with his favorite intern. But one thing I never got was his response to a question about whether or not he’s ever used drugs.

“I tried marijuana once. I did not inhale.”

Say what? That’s like saying, “I only put the head in.” It’s like you’re admitting you dabbled in illegal activities, but only a little bit. My lips are guilty, but not my lungs. Whatever.

It looks like I’m not the only one who feels that answer is nonsense.

At a town hall meeting in Iowa, Barack Obama was asked whether or not he inhaled.

“I did. It’s not something I’m proud of. It was a mistake as a young man. But I never understood that line,” Mr. Obama said, pausing to recall Mr. Clinton’s insistence that he didn’t inhale. “The point was to inhale. That was the point.”

My cynicism dictates I point out that he already acknowledged this in Dreams of My Father, a book he wrote before he entered public office. He even admitted to trying cocaine, so essentially he had no choice to own up to it. But, I want to believe he was honest about it because he wanted to be.

Yeah, yeah even I can give people a chance.

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He revolutionized the music video, forever altered the way we judge performances, and his overall style of singing and dancing has become almost a genre in itself — complete with a decade’s worth of clones. However, there is one aspect of Michael Jackson’s phenomenal career in entertainment that’s been largely ignored: his weave game. You read that right: It’s about time the man known for his fierce falsetto gets his kudos for his hot presses, extensions, and impeccable lace fronts. But before I get into that, I suppose I should do a quick recap of the days when he bought out the beauty supply store to rock his own hair.

Back in the days when his melanin count was a tad bit higher, young Mike was known for his adult-strength voice as much as he was for the extra puffs in his afro. He would pick that ‘fro until Off The Wall.

Then came Thriller, when he traded in the ‘fro for the Jherri-curl. Not even Tropicana had more juice than Mike back then. Look at those front curls — they don’t even move.

When he became bad (…bad, bad, you knew it, shamon), he decided to morph into El Debarge. He flipped that Jherri-curl into a hairstyle you typically only saw on Puerto Rican girls. Mike bucked the system and went against genetics. Who’s bad?

I’m going to speed through the Dangerous to HIStory eras — only because outside of that Ricki-Lake inspired short cut Mike had in the video for “You Are Not Alone,” he looked relatively the same — y’know, ponytails, fresh presses, and the like. Always fresh, though.

Besides, I think it’s best I get to the point of this entry: Why Mike deserves his praise and an honoree Just For Me cover.

Exhibit A.

Are those freestyle braids or something? It’s sad when a black man can wear a white woman’s hairstyle better than an actual white woman.

Exhibit B.

I shouldn’t be able to see that, Beyonce. Mike dances a lot more than you do, and not once have I seen him sweat his glue out.

Mike even keeps it tight in his mug shots.

Foxy, Foxy, Foxy. How are you going to let Michael Jackson play you like that?

If any of you try to come up with excuses for them, I have five words for you:

Keep it in the closet.

Mike may be a hundred years old in pop star years, and his credit score may be lower than Britney’s position on the charts, but he still keeps his hair did.

When Mike hung around Diana Ross, he learned the tricks of the trade. Ultimately, the apprentice exceeded the talents of the master. Young girls, take note.

Tell me that lace front doesn’t look good? Vanilla showed out on Ebony.

He’s smiling because he knows he wears that hair better than the Korean it originated from.

When we go with this:

Here’s the result:

You’ll never catch Mike looking like the woman on the left.

He’s already been recognized as the King of Pop, now it’s time for game to recognize game and hail Michael Jackson as the King of Lace Fronts.

Respect the crown.

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Over the years, I’ve tried to defend Ashanti’s vocals. Well, let me rephrase that: I made the case that she’s not the best singer, but even every squealing hamster has its share of good days.

I mean, listen to that. She sounds decent…dare I say, good.

Of course, I’ve heard much worse from her. Her cover of Diana Ross’ “I’m Coming Out” from VH1 Divas comes to mind. I’m still shocked the supreme diva didn’t place a hit out on her for butchering the song.

Horrid covers aside, I would still try to make the case that like it or not, Ashanti tends to match the vocals found on her records. Not that she’s exactly wailing on any of her songs, but airy monotone vocals or not, she matches them.

Then I saw this performance, and decided, yeah, this girl doesn’t have a prayer of building any vocal strength. Bless her heart.

Speaking of prayer, Ashanti reminds me of a church choir: Every choir has that one member that doesn’t deserve a solo, but because everyone does, you have to hold in your laughter when their time comes for fear that you might be struck down — or at least be caught in the crossfire when that person is struck down for messing up the song.

That’s Ashanti.

I remember Patti Labelle saying she had worked with Ashanti on her vocal chops — that explains the screaming. She might now sing of miracles, but it’s obvious she can’t perform them.

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Never say that I don’t have any holiday spirit. On this of thanksgiving (ok, so I’m actually posting this early, but you get the idea), let me share what I’m most grateful for this year:

1. Loving mothers.

2. The Boondocks finally came back.

3. That you can never hide from your past.

4. Wilona from Good Times is still killing ‘em at 112.

5. Keyshia Cole found a new hair color.

6. There are still leaders trying to change the status quo…at least one anyway.

7. That this song is still more than just fine…fine…fine…fine…fine….fine….fine (whew!) after all these years.

8. We’re slowly but surely making progress.

9. The return of Salt ‘n Pepa.

10. We eventually learn to let go of what troubles us. Exhale, Terry. Everything’s gonna be alright.

11. The genius of Alexyss Tylor.

12. Celebrities that keep it real. Ya’ll better respect Helen Mirren’s gangsta.

13. Folks that make it too easy.

14. Dreams.

15. Memories.

16. That I know better. Imagine if Wendy’s took Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On” and remixed it for a Baconator commercial.

17. That this party promoter got all of his brown paper bags burned.

18. I gave this movie a chance.

19. The mute button. Bless it.

20. Places to release.

21. Photoshop: The gift that keeps on giving.

22. Graduation.

23. Family.

24. Friends.

25. I’m waving my stan card and Popeyes wing as I type this proudly. All hail the Queen and her lace front.

And last but not least:

Anyone that reads this blog. Thank you! Really, this year has not been the best, but I’ve tried not to show it on here. Thanks to anyone who’s left a comment, sent an email telling me that they felt I was talented or that they simply liked reading my work, linked any of my entries, or added me to their blog rolls. It’s very appreciated.

Happy Thanksgiving! Buy me something tomorrow (or donate…I have Paypal!). I’m in wealth training courses and right now I’m not passing.

By the way, just because I said some nice things in this entry doesn’t mean I’m like a simp or anything, so don’t go calling me a punk ass bitch in the comments.

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Well I can cross three names off my potential co-signer list as life has seemingly not been kind to any member of B2K not named Omarion.

Judging from these clips, I gather they’re trying to shop around a reality show (or “realty show”) in an effort to obtain some extra cash and another shot at 15 minutes of fame. Yeah…good luck with that.

I’ve never been a fan of their music outside of maybe two songs that I can’t even remember the names of. If you’re wondering, yes, at the time I was embarrassed about liking them. But, given the fact I can’t even remember the songs, I no longer feel any shame.

I’m not sure if they’re [really] trying to get back together, but even with Omarion, B2K only managed one platinum album, so I can only imagine the type of sales they could get without him should they be lucky enough to score a deal with Koch records. To be fair, Omarion isn’t exactly moving major units as a solo act either.

Anyone else notice that lost boys of B2K are cursing now? Nouveau BBD in the house!

I don’t see this show being picked up by any major channel. I’m actually more interested in a shows like The Adventures of Farrah Franklin, Naturi’s Negatives, or Mabel’s Mishaps (that’s Michelle Williams, to you). But if you’re gung ho about following around the remaining members of the would-be New Edition in their quest for a second shot at stardom, there’s always Youtube.

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Dear Michael,

I’m not selling as many albums as I thought I would. They told me with a new image I would go to the next level. I’ve done everything they’ve asked me to do. I locked Fefe Dobson in a closet and stole all of her clothes so I could have the perfect bad girl wardrobe. I took out Beyonce’s old tracks out and found the best new hair cut to spice up the new look. They told me I look like someone named Pat Benatar now. Who is he? Well whatever, he probably doesn’t look as good with this cut as I do.

Then Jay told me that it was time that I to show the world who I really am. He told me some producers would tell me who I really was as soon as I entered the studio.

“Umbrella” was my idea, though. It was supposed to go to Mary J. Blige, but I fought for it, y’know.

And it was the song of the summer! That’s like the hottest time the year, y’know? Hot!

That’s what I was telling my shero, Beyonce. I was soooo happy to see her, y’know? I was like hey, this is like my “Crazy In Love.” Then she looked down and whispered, “You try to collaborate with my man in any way again and you’ll disappear quicker than LaTavia.”

She was kind of scary. But back to my sales — they’re not high enough. I’m getting worried. I don’t want to be sent back to Barbados, y’know.

So what can I do?

They say sex sales and what’s sexier than performing with a whip?

See look at me! Was I not getting it? Why aren’t more people buying Good Girl Gone Bad?

Can you help me?

Ella, ella, eh, eh, eh!


Dear Rihanna,

I don’t know how much help I can be, because to tell you the truth, I don’t really care for you.

Well I’m sorry, but you kind of bug me. You seem so…manufactured. Are you a femmebot?

Look, I tried to compliment you a while back on here, but all I could manage to come up with is that you’re pretty and you take nice pictures. No matter how much you try to switch up your image, you’re still pretty dull.

Just revel in the fact that you are pretty.

What? That’s not enough. I guess you want it all, huh? Okay, okay. I’ll try to help. Consider this me partaking in the holiday spirit.

I actually think you have a good album. Did I buy it? No, but I thought about it before slowly backing away. Don’t pout. Maybe I’ll buy it on black Friday.

First off, I think your single choices have been kind of off. What happened to “Breakin’ Dishes?” That could’ve easily been released as the follow up to “Umbrella.” And that song with Ne-Yo: I mean, yeah, it has finally made its way to the Top Ten, but it’s basically another song borrowing from the beat of “Irreplaceable.” Why didn’t you go with “Say It” instead?

You see there, I really do like your album! Just not you, but maybe by the end of this, we change that. Don’t bet your green card on it, though.

You’re right about sex selling, but there’s something about the way you go about it. I mean, sure, the dominatrix get up sparks attention from the whip and chain enthusiasts, but I don’t know, when Madonna and Janet used sex to sale they crafted hits. You, on the other hand, just look like you’re ready to turn tricks.

You bend and you bend but the only thing riding up is your shorts, not your album sales. Try a different approach. And for the record, after watching that performance I was tempted to spray my screen with Lysol. I might even run it past the free clinic.

Another thing you can work on is your stage act. This is my typical reaction after watching one of your performances:

I’ll admit, you’ve gotten much much better, though.

You were pretty good the other night at the AMAs. Kudos on no longer sounding like Billy Goat Gruff.

Give me more of this:

Oh, and I’ve got to give it to you.

Right here you look like you’re actually blowing. Fake it ‘til you make it, Rih Rih!

I have to admit even though your sales might not be as high as you expected them to be, you’re still doing remarkably well. I’ve come to accept that you’re not going anywhere anytime soon. You’re the new Ashanti and I’m now at peace with it. If you were wondering, that was me and Teairra Mari calling the INS, but don’t worry, that ends now.

You know, as I’m writing this, I’m warming up to you a little. I suppose I can be a little nicer to you. As an act of good faith, I think I’ll nix that plan to bootleg your album to pay my credit card bill. Every little bit helps!

I’ll holla!


P.S. Since we’re like, going to try and be friends now, straight up: Were you drunk or is this just a regular night for you at the club?

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I have to be honest: I can’t remember any American Music Awards from this decade. I’m pretty sure I’m not alone, considering this show was more or less promoted as the “music special that features a Special Guest Appearance by Beyonce.” Way to reel them in, Dick Clark.

Speaking of Beyonce, you know you’re the star of the show when you’re not even listed as a performer, though you’re still the night’s headliner.

The countdown to Beyonce’s special guest appearance show kicked off with Fergie doing yet another Gwen Stefani impersonation while performing “Fergalicious.”

Then she segued into her hundredth single, “Clumsy” but by then I already got up to get some more water. By the time I made my way back Fergie was wailing the incredibly annoying “Big Girls Don’t Cry.” I started to contemplate grabbing my blanket and sleeping through the rest of this show.

Producers, under the false impression that we needed even more Black Eyed Pea members to perform, decided to let Will.I.Am stay on stage to try and get his Timbaland on. I have no idea what song he was performing, but I do know it was everything like a Fergie performance: A bunch of props, and simple choreography to compensate for a performer without an ounce of rhythm.

After back-to-back performances, Will.I.Am still refused to vacate the stage, and why would he, when there was another rhythmless front woman to join. Nicole Whatchamacallit decided to give us another example of why she needs to give the Pussycat Dolls a call. She performed flopped single #2, “Baby Love” — a fitting title considering you have to love your baby to deal with the really annoying noises many of them make in the middle of the night, though none are probably nearly as annoying as whatever note Nicole thought she was hitting at the end of the song. I like her, but what was going on?

Just when I thought to hit the bottle of Nyquil, Jimmy Kimmel’s Writer’s Guild strike-approved opening saved the half hour. Thank you, Jimmy Kimmel for waking me up.

Faux punk rocker Avril reminded me of the reason I stopped paying attention to her years ago.

Ashanti gave me another reason to turn on Brown Sugar after she read the list of nominees for Best Soul R&B Male: Akon, T-Pain, and Ne-Yo. John Legend, Maxwell, D’Angelo, can we get it together with the new releases?

Up until this show, I had never heard of the Jonas Brothers, so outside of noting the kid in the white fell and tried to play it off, I have nothing to say. I take it they’re like the brunette version of Hanson?

I’m still not a fan of the song, but Rihanna’s performance with Ne-Yo was pretty good. She’s improving.

So the big “special guest appearance” that “audiences would be talking about tomorrow” was basically a carefully planned joint effort between Dick Clark Productions and Sony/BMG to get this show ratings and Beyonce even more crossover appeal.

Still, someone please get me the mp3 of the country remix to “Irreplaceable.” The lead singer of Sugarland was feeling that song wasn’t she? “To de leff, to de leff.”

Beyonce’s team is on a mission to push her to as many different audiences as possible. Expect a polka version of “Get Me Bodied” any day now. That or a zydeco version of “Freakum Dress.”

I would ask why Justin Timberlake won the Rock/Pop award and the Best Soul/R&B album, but I doubt I get a credible answer — ahh well.

Chris Brown’s performance had a lot of lights, acrobatics, energy, and the like. Kind of makes me wish I wasn’t so fat and lazy when I took gymnastics back in middle school. If there’s one thing I think he can add to his act, I think it would be to perform with pre-recorded live vocals just to add something fresh to whatever song he’s performing.

I was really hoping to hear Alicia perform “Like You’ll Never See Me Again,” but she instead went with the shouting anthem, “No One.” There was a lot of noise to process, but I did enjoy the break into “Murder She Wrote.”

I must say, Alicia dances a lot like Mariah Carey. She looked like she was having a lot of fun, though. I guess that’s the silver lining. She looked great, too. I wouldn’t be shocked if she went backstage and lit it up with her accompanying dancehall artists.

By the end of night, we found out how they got Beyonce to show up and why they kept bringing up Beyonce’s name every other minute besides the need to keep ratings: She won the biggest award of the night.

Did anyone peep her go the wrong way after accepting? I love her.

Mary J. Blige was killing ‘em on stage performing “Just Fine.” She looked a lot like old Mary, even breaking out the old What’s The 411? moves. I actually like the song a little more now. Rihanna singing a long was cute.

Wow I must be in a really good mood or something.

I also liked Khadijah’s performance. I knew she could hold a tune, but her voice seems to have gotten a lot stronger. Go Cleo.

All and all I probably should’ve been reading a book or watching something on bootleg (I mean authenticity-challenged) than watching this tribute to the American Idol franchise, but I wanted to look at Beyonce, so I stuck around. That makes it alright.

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I swear Chris Brown is on a mission to make light skinned men go back out of style. What is up with this video for “This Christmas?”

Stop swagger jacking Michael Jackson. This means you, Chris, Usher, and Omarion (but he can teach me that moonwalk remix he did in the “Touch” video). I was ready for Chris to squeak out ‘shamon’ at any second. He’s even creeping around kids like Mike.

When your voice is aiiiight at best, don’t go remaking Donny Hathaway’s Christmas song. Go remake TLC’s shit. I’m trying to give this dude a break because we’re brothers in the big teeth fam, but c’mon nah. But, just to show that Bugs Bunny is still down for Roger Rabbit, I will say he sounds better. Now I need to look for Moonwalker on DVD.

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