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If he weren’t possibly the worst President in history, George W. Bush might actually be likable. Of course, I only mean that in a funny drunk sort of way. He’s the type of person that would make you laugh at the bar and give police someone else to watch for the night. Double your pleasure.

That type of person shouldn’t be President, though. For everyone that voted based on the premise that you wanted to say that you could see yourself having a beer with your elected leader, take a good long look at what that logic leads to. Yeah, you could meet this clown at the bar for a beer, but you had to sell your sperm and eggs to buy enough gas to get there. Not to mention sooner rather than later, you’ll probably be getting in knife fights over the last bag of rice at Costco. And most people from Europe and China are likely spit on you if you try to give them American dollars.

Be proud of yourselves.

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I still consider myself to be a part of Team Rih-Rih, but she’s starting to get on my nerves again.

The Umbrella singer – who is rumoured to be dating R’n’B star Chris Brown – admits she enjoys spicing up her sex life by wearing her often revealing and provocative costumes at home.

She said:“I like to push the envelope sometimes. It depends on the mood and the occasion. It’s always fun to take some home. Sometimes I get to do that.”

That statement is as contrived as the career-changing haircut her A&R rep suggested.

She’s adamant about forcing this “bad girl” image down our throats. Sorry, Rihanna: You “date” a dude that looks like he still goes to recess in the middle of the day. Sit down.

But you know what? I get it. You’re edgy. You’re innovative. You’re a trend setter. Go you.

Happy now?

I think that’s great that she embraces her inner S&M freak, but when are people going to ask her some serious questions like:

1. Have you learned how to dance yet?

2. Are you working on how to not sound like a goat when you sing?

3. What are you doing to make sure that in five years some younger, prettier, freakier chick with less shame and vocal talent than you comes out and tries to send you back on a boat to Barbados?

Or better yet, why do you refuse to release “Breakin’ Dishes?” Why has your label instead opted for this generic “Disturbia” instead? Have ya’ll heard it? So mad at the ‘bum bum be dome’ shit she’s doing. Sounds like something Scooby and the Gang runs to.

Bring the whip to the studio next time!

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Xenophobes everywhere rejoice: You’ve scored yet another win in the ongoing battle to demonize anything your intolerant, paranoid, flat out ignorant heart desires to!

To the average person, there’s nothing remotely disturbing about Rachel Ray’s attire in a recent ad shot for Dunkin Donuts. However, to conservative writers like Michelle Malkin, Rachel Ray is donning the scarf of an American hating jihadists.

Yes…she’s serious.

In a recent column, Malkin writes:

The keffiyeh, for the clueless, is the traditional scarf of Arab men that has come to symbolize murderous Palestinian jihad.

For those of you who don’t know who Michelle Malkin is (lucky you), she is an Asian woman who wrote a book defending the racial profiling that produced the Japanese internment camps launched in World War II as well as championing the current profiling now targeting Arab and Muslim Americans. That being said, it’s not actually surprising that she can defend prejudice — even when she herself is a victim of it.

Still, one can’t help but ask: Don’t people like her have something better to do? Or better yet, why did Dunkin Donuts cave into the pressure of a bigot?

‘In a recent online ad, Rachael Ray is wearing a black-and-white silk scarf with a paisley design. It was selected by her stylist for the advertising shoot. Absolutely no symbolism was intended. However, given the possibility of misperception, we are no longer using the commercial.’’

Instead of ignoring her and giving her some indication that she really needs to get a glazed clue, the suits instead opt to give her the idea that she was in the right. Way to go, Dunkin Donuts!

It’s refreshing to see an American company show sensitivity to the concerns of Americans opposed to Islamic jihad and its apologists. Too many of them bend over backwards in the direction of anti-American political correctness….

Fashion statements may seem insignificant, but when they lead to the mainstreaming of violence — unintentionally or not — they matter. Ignorance is no longer an excuse. In post-9/11 America, vigilance must never go out of style.

If she’s so pressed about this scarf, why doesn’t she go after the other possible jihadists?


Like John McCain’s daughter. Let’s see Michelle go after her. What about the American troops? I’ve seen a few of them wearing them. Are they terrorist sympathizers, too?

The stupidity and paranoia of some Americans knows no bounds. I imagine bananas, duck duck goose, and Plato are all next.

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If you didn’t know already, Solange’s ex-husband now raps. Taking on the moniker of Yung Sosa, the former brother-in-law of Beyonce has his own album due at the end of the year.

In the video they refer to Yung Sosa as “The Nas of the South.” If you’re wondering, no I don’t really know what that means either. I imagine it doesn’t mean he has multiple personality order, so I gather it suggests he’s like…’deep?’

The South’s answer to O.D.B. sounds more fun to me.

Anyway, I’m not going to comment either way for once (Indeed miracles do happen, ya’ll). That’s mainly attributed to me remembering Yung Sosa as Daniel before he knocked up the other Knowles sister. With that being said, you can listen to Daniel’s Yung Sosa’s track and judge it on your own.

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I feel sorry for all of these poor suckers ready to sign their life and piece away for four and three quarter seconds of fame. And by fame, I mean making the top 100 YouTube videos list on a slow Tuesday. I understand that people have dreams, but these people should ask themselves this: Do I really want to end up like Raz-B?

Or better yet really stop and think about what success means to Chris Stokes.

Then take a moment and consider the source of all “fame and fortune” courtesy of a career with TUG Entertainment.

Oh and don’t you forget the aftermath.

Good luck contestants. I can’t wait to not see you in House Party 7: R. Kelly’s Costume Ball.

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So this is what it sounds like when puberty skips you over and weed takes the place of your vocal coach. No wonder he bothers to only whisper and talk-sing his way through his corny tracks these days. Can you believe people are actually applauding him for this? I guess you have to treat botched renditions of the national anthem performed at sporting events the same way you respond to the tone deaf, no talent girl addicted to Newports getting a solo at church. It’s like you know Jesus is grabbing his ear plugs, but you have to bear through it without bursting into laughter or booing.

In the future, the only thing Ray-J should be allowed to cover is a woman with no shame.

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If a lesbian and a Republican can have a civil debate about gay marriage without using the terms “bigot” or “Godless adulterer” certainly there’s hope for us all, right?

Maybe?

Possibly?

C’mon nah, have faith.

Anyway, my second piece has run on Newsone.com. It’s my take on the controversial ruling by the California Supreme Court overturning the ban on gay marriage. Personally, I think everyone has the right to marry and later divorce anyone they want regardless of your sexual orientation.

Whether or not you agree with that, you should still read it. No really, you ought to. Read it, try not to call me any bad names, then send mass emails, all that.

Click here to read it.

And if you don’t agree with my stance, don’t go trying to email me a virus. I’m already expecting that from one of Chris Brown’s stans. Be original.

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It’s official: Usher has Mary J. Blige disease. All the signs were there. It started with the constant clamoring about how in love he was and how happy he finds himself because of it. Then the nuptials came, followed by the declaration that he is a brand new person. On a personal level, it’s pretty commendable. Musically, it makes for pretty dull and repetitive compositions.

Here I Stand, Usher’s fifth studio album and follow-up to the diamond-certified Confessions, could easily be called The Power of Starkist (think about it for a little while, you’ll get it) or Tranny Love. One listen to this album and you realize that new wife Tameka Foster-Raymond must have the Midas touch or one hell of a hookup with a voodoo priestess.

Yes, she’s that bad – or at least that’s what Usher would have you believe. Although he reminds you throughout the album that he still faces hurdles as he approaches a new phase in life, he reminds you even more that he’s dedicated to staying true to his new life as a husband and a father. As the album drags along, one can’t help but think: “Ok. We get it already.”

In many respects, Here I Stand is still your typical Usher album. Many of the themes presented on this album have been constants in Usher’s ten-year-plus career for some time now. The difference between those works and ones found on this new album are that the singer behind them now comes across as a tamed version of his former self – therein laying the problem. When you’re an entertainer, tamed is never the adjective you want used to describe you.

Though he tries his best to put on airs to ease fears that he’s no longer like the rest of us with the first single, “Love In This Club,” it’s pretty clear Usher’s subject matter is different from here on out. He can talk about making love in the club all he wants, but “Best Thing,” featuring another now oomph-less artist these days, Jay-Z, gives us a good idea of what he’s really doing these days. On the track, Usher boasts, “No matter trickin’ and kissing miscellaneous chicks, acting like a jerk, woman, I’ve been to church.” While it’s nice to see him in the pews, if he’s that pressed about delivering sermons on the power of love on every song, he can kiss his spot on my iPod goodbye.

Although Here I Stand takes a detour from the route that produced the celebrated Confessions, the album is not a sign that a married Usher is now permanently incapable of making quality music. Songs like “Trading Places” and “This Ain’t Sex” offer some indication that Usher can still appease the appetite of his listeners who have yet to match his glee. Usher will simply have to take some time to strike a proper balance between the fun of his past and the new responsibilities he welcomes in his future. Hopefully, someone lets him know he doesn’t have to be so preachy, and pass along word that it’s ok for him to still have a little fun. That or Tameka needs to pulls back the whip.

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There is a child roaming this Earth named Jodeci, and surprise: He’s already running into legal trouble. Don’t ask me how I know this, but trust me when I say this is not a joke. Now do you see why I start so many blog posts about the importance of not naming your child something crazy? What options does a boy named Jodeci have? He has no choice but to be a rapper or singer because to HR, the name Jodeci screams he probably spilled ‘rnge soda all over his resume. That and fish grease.

Don’t get me wrong, I love me some Jodeci, but I wouldn’t name my kid after them. “Let’s Go Through The Motions” wasn’t that hot, was it? You couldn’t name that fool Dalvin? Stay or Feenin’ are even better names than Jodeci! I’m sorry if this sounds cruel, but some people need to be spayed.

To top it off, when I told one of my friends this, after I convinced her that I wasn’t lying, she informed me that a third grade teacher told her that she has a child named Dafinest. Da what?! What’s next? Da Coolest N’gga? I need people to stop drinking around their child’s birth certificates!

I pray for the teacher that has little Jodeci, Beyonce-Ashanti, Keyblige, and Dafinest all in one classroom.

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