Back when I actually cared about basketball (I believe G.I. Joe still aired), I remember hearing about the great (mouth) Charles Barkley mulling a potential run as governor of Alabama…as a Republican. A decade later he’s still talking about running for governor of Alabama, only this time don’t bet on him running on the GOP ticket.
Blitzer: “And when exactly will you be running for governor?”
My ears, my eyes — both burn at the sound of her voice and the sight of her thighs.
I like her business savvy and independent spirit, but in Khia’s mind, she is a creative genius for producing such marvels as “My Neck, My Back” and “Ass Talk” (Sidenote: That song title suggests gas, not the sexy.)
Too Old For That Y.O. I don’t know who told Janet that fake ass “Dilemma” was going to do anything, but hopefully they lost their speaking privileges.
The funniest part of this video isn’t Khia’s delusions of grandeur; it’s the YouTube posters stuck in 1993.
Going on the record and dissing Janet Jackson is like committing musical suicide.
Back to Khia: She should be happy the jungle she used as the backdrop of the picture above didn’t snatch her back and leave Janet alone. Besides, if “Ass Talk” is any preview of what lies ahead for her musically, I’m not trying to hear anymore songs from her anyway. I’ll just stick to Fresh’s postings of her advice column. Ign’tness is bliss.
I may be in the minority, but I prefer Ciara when people thought she wore Hammer pants to hide her penis. With “Goodies” essentially becoming the blue balls national anthem, despite hitting the scene with a familiar look and style (Aaliyah + Janet with a dash of Michael Jackson = Ciara), the song helped push Ciara as the antithesis to her young hook-crazed female peers who made it seem as if having any inhibitions past the age of 18 was some sort of character flaw. She took that virginal tone in “Goodies” and moved three million units of her debut album of the same name.
Then somewhere along the way she morphed into something that looked a lot like everyone else.
Ciara decided to hire a stylist and glam herself up, no doubt to convey a more polished and sophisticated image. In other words: I’s a woman now, watch me pop lock. To her credit, it started off brilliantly. Armed with Janet Jackson’s old choreographer, Ciara out-Janet Miss Jackson herself, offering the perfect visual to her Prince-inspired first single, “Promise.”
But after a while she started to take herself and her “evolution” way too seriously. How much of an evolution can one truly make between their first and second albums? If those interludes on Ciara: The Evolution were indication, Ciara likely can’t answer that question herself.
Ciara, like so many other artists, probably let someone whisper into her ear that it behooves her to change every single thing that helped make her popular in an effort to remain fresh versus heeding the adage: “If ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”
This strategy tends to blow up in the artists’ face. It’s pretty evident in Ciara’s case given that none of the singles – including “Promise” – have matched the success of “Goodies,” “1, 2 Step” and “Get Up.” And despite its heavy promotion, Ciara: The Evolution hasn’t come anywhere close to matching the sales of Goodies. Maybe it’s because her fans are more interested in her dance routines than her rumored love life with 50 Cent.
Though Ciara tried to distance herself from the “Queen of Crunk ‘n B” tag, when she finally released a follow-up to her second single, the underperforming “Can’t Leave ‘Em Alone,” she chose “That’s Right” — a song from the very producer who let her ride his crunk beats all the way to the top of the charts. Too bad by the time the video was released, audiences were already distracted by other artists who had crafted much more believable images.
So what does Ciara do to counter this? Continue to play up the sex kitten bit, of course. I’m sure that this is all in fun, but the last dancing R&B singer I’ve seen give a lap dance is now without a major label deal.
I’m all for personal progression, but there is something about Ciara that seems naturally tomboyish and this new, uber-feminine, temptress-like image seems so contrived. Like some chick in the WNBA being forced to put on a freakum dress when you know she’d rather be in some basketball shorts, Nike sandals and socks. It just seems like she’s trying too hard these days…and it’s not working.
I’m curious to know if Ciara ever wonders whether or not she let the goodies out of the jar too soon.
Cassie is a well dressed example of how this country’s obsession with thinness, beauty, and racial ambiguity can lead to a career in the entertainment industry. While she did have a monster of a hit single that soared all the way to #3 on the Hot 100, that number is close to the amount of copies her first album sold. You would never know this, though, given that whenever you look at pics of a major event there she is.
She’s here.
She’s there.
She’s everywhere.
Why?
Me thinks Miss “Just Tell Me How You Like It” convinced Mr. “Take That, Take That” into giving her an all access pass to every major social event in the country. I wonder how.
ly. At all. Not even in a little bit. I doubt that she can even hum correctly. That tidbit about her talent or lack thereof is not going to stop her show, though.
talking over a beat singing the song she contributed to the Step Up 2 soundtrack called, “Is It You?” If this were performed at Mrs. Chambers Third Grade Class Talent Show at Martin Luther King elementary, I would say her Chipette vocals could evolve into something as she gets older.
Word to Brittany.
After showing one of my friends this cover her response was, “Snoop looks like has a disease.” Though she did add that Pharrell was, “a hot skinny guy,” I started to wonder if she, like others I’ve come across, was thinphobic. Yes, I made that up.
For far too long the thin man has been assailed for his underweight status, and enough is enough. It’s about time people start appreciating the underweight lovers of the y chromosome. As someone who’s gone from looking like a sun burnt Pillsbury Dough Boy to someone of a taller and leaner stature, I’ve encountered many a thinphobe.
One of them is my brother, who although not fat at all, thinks his “average” weight gives him the right to quote Mo’nique’s shtick about “skinny bitches” being evil. I don’t know how everyone feels on the matter, but I believe a little diabetes and mild stroke did hurt somebody. I saw Big Mama die in Soul Food because of her diet, and unlike her kinfolk, I learned a lesson (Notice at the end of the movie they all ate the same damn food that killed her — not even bothering to change ONE recipe). Skinny people aren’t evil. Insulin is.
Stop waving pork chops in front of people’s faces. I’m not a hater, but not everyone is down with eating Porky Pig. It’s just some people prefer they die in their sleep peacefully— and not suddenly in crowd of people.
“You need to eat.”
“Here: You take these last eight pieces of chicken. You need them more than I do.”
“You were meaner fatter, but I don’t know, you’re a lanky somebody.”
These comments usually come from people who would prefer a drive-thru grocery store. Oddly enough, the bulk of these thinphobics weigh about ten pounds more than me. It’s like Kelly looking at Michelle going, “Girl you need to eat!”
It’s time we stop disparaging the skinny man. Everyone should really stop and think about the contributions the thin men of the world have given us in entertainment and politics.
Ok, so maybe his legs look like 6 inch thermometers, but Snoop has proven through the years that you can be a 100 pound gangsta. If you watch his show, you know he’s not on the stick-and-move diet (stick your fingers down your throat, move to the toilet) or munching on carrots all day. He seems to love Roscoe’s almost as much as he loves weed. Quiet as it’s kept, he’s outlasted many of the emcees of the 90s, and that’s probably because he stayed true to his tall and lanky self. Suge was too big to outrun the IRS. Look where he is now. I rest my case.
If not for this thin man’s brilliance, ya’ll thicker folks would have no song to “Shake Ya Ass” and watch ya selves to. Say thank you.
Skinny = funny. Word to Pryor.
The funnier, and most talented Wayans Brothers. Obviously missing a couple of meals has given him the sadness he needed to tap into to portray dramatic roles like in Requiem For a Dream more seriously.
He was considered skinny in the 90s. I heard Uncle Phil say it on an episode myself, so don’t try to dispute this. Of course, since he’s bulked up he now commands $20 million a movie, so I will keep drinking Protein Whey and get up on my protein just incase.
T.I. is one of the south’s greatest rappers, and he probably weighs only half of most of them. For those of you thinking, “I bet if he ate more, he wouldn’t be so angry, and wouldn’t need those guns” need I remind you that it was his Napoleon (and the fact that he needed to grasps that he wasn’t in the hood anymore) complex that got him in trouble, not any “Feed the Children” curse.
He has a long ways to go before he gets to platinum status (like a couple hundred thousand), but Trey Songz is my role model simply because he’s breaking barriers for my kind. He’s lifting up people who can’t get enough of that slim swagger thrice his size at concerts. We shall overcome.
I’m just using him as a filler, but yeah, he fits the mold if we’re talking 2001. Kidding. He had a hit. That song, y’know…hmm, well I can’t think of it, but I’m sure my niece jigged to it a couple of years go. Thanks, Shad.
He weighs like 88 pounds wet, but who’s contributed more to music, the music video, choreography, and tabloid fodder in the last three decades than the Michael “That’s Lite Mayonnaise, Thank you” Jackson ? Don’t waste your time trying to think of someone else. The skinniest Jackson brother is the only choice.
I was reading an article about Obama’s stumping in Louisiana a week ago and apparently some woman patted him on his stomach and said, “You’re too frail, baby. We need to fatten you up.” No you don’t. Give him one piece of boudain, not four. Being in his weight class has gotten him this far, don’t go trying to change him.
I know you’re looking like, “Who the hell is this?” That’s me, so watch your jokes. Actually, email them to me: I might share them. I watched Top Model the night before, so cut me some slack. But yes, I am hoping to join these thin men in triumph one day.
Now we do have our embarrassments like Fonzworth Bentley, but y’know, can’t win ‘em all. I wish he’d go hit a buffet, though, and stop messing with our status.
Anyway, I hope I’ve given any thinphobics out there something to think about. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go decide if I really want this protein shake.
Am I wrong for thinking Ray-J is the lamest man alive? Obviously a glutton for punishment, I saw this video on Crunk + Disorderly and decided to watch it. See why procrastination is wrong, people? I became annoyed with him in the first thirty seconds of the video. I didn’t think it could get any worse, but it did. Impressive, Ray-J. Most impressive.
No really: Am I wrong for thinking Ray-J is the lamest man alive? How long ago was this sex tape? Why does he keep talking about it to the point you have to wonder if it will be mentioned on his tombstone? (So much for that Pharrell + Chad shout out!) We get, Ray-J: You had a sex tape with the injection princess. Go you.
Has he not been able to find any other line of work or something? Paris Hilton found a couple of careers. Kim Kardashian landed a show on E! Why hasn’t he picked up a new gig for his attention whoring antics? Has using sexual voyeurism to get Q-list celebrities reality shows become passe?
He acts like that lame in class that got the dope girl to give him soon and now you can’t tell him anything. Y’know, like on Saved By The Bell when Kelly kissed Screech on the cheek. You couldn’t tell him a damn thing. Or like when Lisa Turtle finally showed him a lil’ affection for a millisecond. That’s Ray-J.
I long for the days when Ray-J was just known as Brandy’s better. Better yet, I yearn for the return when a question about Ray-J would be met with, “WHO?!”
Why didn’t this person walk in the beauty shop when this was being done and dropkick some sense into Fantasia? I don’t know if I need to go warn the Dalmations or leave the room and grab a can of Air Freshener, but I do know one thing: Fantasia needs better friends!
Nas is a poser. An attention whore who masks publicity stunts under the guise of calling attention to some cause. The cause more times than not is his album sales.
Since Hip Hop Is Dead didn’t work, now Nasir is on to bigger, more controversial attention grabbing album titles. The pseudo hip hop intellectual showed how far he’s willing to go on Grammy red carpet: He wore a shirt with the word NIGGER plastered over it. His wife, Kelis – ever praised for her fashion sense – abandoned her trademark eclectic look to embrace the light bill paying cause of her husband. Sweet.
Trying to explain his nonsense to the curious CNN reporter, Nas said something about ethnicities all sharing the experience of discrimination, blah blah blah. Then he said something about us all being niggers.
So profound.
Nas is that dude that gets a library card, reads two books, and suddenly think he’s Cornel West.
Case in point, here’s his thoughts of the upcoming presidential election:
What the hell is he talking about? This is the same person who told people at a Central Park concert not to vote the last go ’round, so why would he care anyway?
Wait, voting is in again. I forgot. With Nas he goes wherever the wind blows. One day it’s shake your ass, the next kids need to dream.
I’m going to start pretending he retired after Illmatic.
In an era of music where success can now be determined by how many ringtones you sell, I wasn’t entirely excited about “the biggest night in music.” It’s more like, “Oh. That still comes on?” Nevertheless: Hey, ya’ll, it’s Grammy time!
For days there was word of a “big surprise” performance at the beginning of the show. That turned out to be Alicia Keys looking like the lovely Lena Horne performing a ‘duet’ with the dead Frank Sinatra. Though it was really awkward and almost laughable to hear Alicia say, “Yeah, uh huh. Sing it, Frank. Yeah!” to the ghost of Grammy past on video, she did well. Sleep-inducing, but she did well.
Prefacing the performance with a montage honoring the Recording Academy’s 50-year-old awards ceremony, I imagine the bigger surprise is that we’ve gone from Frank Sinatra and Ella Fitzgerald as nominees to Soulja Boy.
The minute they gave Alicia Keys an award for vocal performance for “No One,” I knew this was going to be a long night. Hate aside, it says a lot of last year’s music scene when an artist that isn’t nominated in any of the major categories performs twice. Get the ratings how you can, CBS!
Speaking of multiples, must we honor the Beatles every year on some award show? Don’t ask me how the tribute went. I went to bathroom.
While it’s no “Achy Breaky Heart,” I’ve warmed to Carrie Underwood’s “Before He Cheats.” It sort of reminds me of the white woman’s answer to “Not Gon’ Cry.”
Best Duke Kit honors no doubt go to Morris Day. His hair seemed fresher than most of the female performers — but I wouldn’t expect anything less from anyone affiliated with Prince, a man who should have thought of “Stilettos (Pumps)” first.
It was a somewhat random segue from “Jungle Love” to “Umbrella,” but the performance was cool. Am I the only one who thought Rihanna looked a lot like that androgynous villain in Ghostbusters? You know, the one that asks Peter Venkman, “Are you a God?”
Yes, she looked great on stage and the red carpet, but c’mon nah. Doesn’t she look a little bit like Zuul?
Oh yeah, another thing: Tell Morris to slow his role. She’s old enough to be his great grandson’s first wet dream.
I really want Aretha Franklin to get to a healthy size. The front of her neck looks like Oscar, the back Meyer. I read that she’s working to drop those excess pounds, so good luck Re-Re! Be healthy!
I pretty much laughed the first two minutes of the Tina Turner/Beyonce duet. Granny is not playing with ya’ll. The performance was fine, though I was really hoping they would switch from “Proud Mary” to “Get Me Bodied.” I so wanted to see Tina do the scissor leg.
So this is what he meant by Glow in the Dark tour, eh? Sometimes when I look at Kanye, I think of queens and extasy. He just seems to be on some “LOOK AT ME! BITCH I SAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAID, LOOK AT ME” type shit. But hey, folks seem to dig it, so it obviously works for him.
Having said that, it was nice to see him perform something for his mother. I can only imagine how difficult that must have been for him.
Who told Cuba Gooding Jr. it was acceptable for him to say “know what I’m saying?” Let’s all remove it from our vocabularies.
Well, she certainly dances like a crackhead. And either she had that crack itch, or she was about to masturbate on stage. Don’t worry, dear: Blake will be out soon.
It was good that she was given the chance to perform. It’s a shame what should have been the biggest nights of her life couldn’t completely come to fruition because of her addiction. Hopefully she pulls together. The shout out to her Bobby Brown, Blake, somewhat worries me.
As for her acceptance speech: Ray Ray and Joe? Shouting out her main in jail? Big ups to London? Didn’t I tell ya’ll she and her husband were the white Bobby and Whitney?!
Sigh. My people, my people. Who invited them?
Edit.
As for the awards, which seems to be the backdrop of the show these days:
Record of the Year: I gather the votes must have been split, because I know I heard “Ella, ella, eh, eh, eh” and “To the left, to the left” more times than I can count. I like “Rehab,” but that’s actually not one of my favorite songs from the Wino. Rihanna and Beyonce had the biggest songs of the year, so maybe it’s time people who actually have the biggest songs of the year finally win an award for it. I still feel Beyonce was robbed for “Crazy In Love.” This is the first time Beyonce hasn’t won a Grammy just for showing up. Someone’s wind machine is broken right now.
Album of the Year: In typical NARAS fashion, the members of the Academy voted for the oldest name on the ballot. Out of all of the awards Amy Winehouse was nominated for, that was the one award I hoped she would have won. That was a superb album, and one of the finest R&B/Soul offerings to be released in a long time. It’s a shame she didn’t win that award, because I would have loved to hear her shout out Junebug and ‘nem.
Then again, the Academy seems to consider Amy’s music “Pop.” Now, I get “Pop” means popular, but this is a category Britney Spears has an award in. Why wasn’t Amy placed in the R&B categories? Her sound is more rooted in R&B than the likes of Beyonce and Rihanna, who arguably could be placed in the Pop categories themselves. Stop placing artists in categories based on race.
Best Female R&B Vocal Performance: I know I’ve made my thoughts about Alicia Keys clear, but I genuinely don’t think she deserved that award. She won that award off of name recognition. Like Beyonce, Alicia Keys benefits from the notion of name factor. It’s when uninformed voters look at the ballot and say to themselves, “Don’t know her. Not a clue. Ok, who are these people? Oh wait, I know that one. Winner!” Alicia Keys sounds awful on that song. Now if we were talking about “You Don’t Know My Name” then I would say yes, she deserves it, hands down. But on “No One” Alicia is straining throughout the entire sing, and even if that were the intended goal, it’s not the best vocal performance. Chrisette or Fantasia deserved this. It’s not like Alicia isn’t going to win 80 more Grammys next year.
I was talking to someone last night who pointed out that Jodeci and En Vogue have never won Grammys…not even for their vocal performances. Isn’t that ashame?
Best Male R&B Vocal Performance: Prince won this because they know his name and NARAS loves the oldie but goodie (to them). Love Prince, but “Future Baby Mama” is no “Adore.”
Best R&B Performance By A Duo or Group With Vocals: You mean T-Pain and Akon didn’t have this one in the bag? 
Best Urban/Alternative Performance: Well it’s cool that Lupe Fiasco can call himself a Grammy winner (and Jill Scott at least won something), but I really love Alice Smith’s “Dream.” If you haven’t heard it, find it. Now.
Best Contemporary R&B Album: Frankie ought to look into shanking someone because Keyshia Cole’s Just Like You deserved this.
Best Rap Performance by a Duo or Group: UGK and Outkast should have won this. R.I.P. Pimp C.
On that note, after watching this, I have to go work on my beats. I have to make sure Young Sinick wins Best New Artist in a year or two.
Despite being two or three decades late, Laurie Ann Gibson makes her debut performance on 106 & Park and all I have to say is boom kack power. Don’t sleep on that begging swagger, folks.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen a 106 audience that quiet, but I can’t say that I blame them considering Soulja Boy probably wasn’t even conceived when Laurie Ann was doing the doo doo brown on In Living Color.
Still, this performance seemed more appropriate for a Thanksgiving gathering of Laurie Ann’s family where her nieces and nephews are forcibly made to watch their crazy, possibly drunk Aunt Laurie Ann try her darnedest to prove she’s still got it, but hey, I ain’t mad at ya, boom kat. You want to be a superstar, too. Janet did it. A boom boom kack. Madonna did it. A boom boom kack. J.Lo did it. A boom boom kack. Even Paula Abdul had a few years on top. A boom kack boom. Sure, it’s not 1991 anymore, but that’s what time machines are for, right? Say that boom kack.
Do your thizzle, Laurie Ann, even if you are swagger jacking Fergie and scaring the young folks. Show Puff you are the star of Making the Band and not Babs Bunny, Danity Doll, and 112 Edition.
Oh yeah, make sure you text boomkack to Laurie Ann. And buy a hoodie.
