I was at the barbershop when I saw Brandy looking extra geeked to be invited somewhere to talk about music in 2008. I was planning to write more about this, but just when I thought to start blogging, I started choking. You know how on TV you see a character by themselves eating and then all of a sudden they start gasping for air because their greedy ass couldn’t wait to chew? That was me a little while ago.
Maybe she has a sensor, because for a minute it felt Brandy was driving right up and down the back of my throat, so I’ll be damned if I make any cracks about her.
I think I’m going to settle down and chill. I got nothing for ya’ll until Monday.
But in the meantime, Keith is breathing, so maybe you ought to give his blog a look. If you like my sense of humor, you should love his.
For shit talking from people not choking on Tostitos multi-grain chips (they are so good so long as they don’t slice your throat open), click here.
Twenty-seven years ago a man with dreams of becoming the Berry Gordy remix and a woman with Supreme aspirations got together to create a child they could both live vicariously through.
And God, am I so grateful for them for doing so. Happy Birthday to one of my generation’s greatest performers and bedazzlers. Don’t ask me what I mean by bedazzlers — I just feel like whenever you talk about Beyonce, you have to interject that word somewhere.
One of my friends called Beyonce a bitch yesterday. As blasphemous a thing as that is to say, Beyonce stans have to remember that some people fight their better senses. When some people see her sing beautifully and coochie pop her way through one of her noteworthy performances, they don’t get it or at least they refuse to. That’s why you sometimes have to shove someone down their throats. Sure, it may irritate them at first, but eventually they give in…and when it comes to Beyonce, give in they will.
OK, let me stop posting like I’m sitting beside Yolanda Saldavar. It’s Beyonce’s birthday, so here are some gifts I want to send her.
1. A date with a masseuse. She needs one for all of the years she’s carried people on her back.
2. A new fan. After a while, even the best fan can lose its power blowing all of that blonde weave for effect.
3. A pair of scissors. She needs to cut her hair because we need a change. Word to Obama.
4. An extra biscuit two-piece. She’s given us so much. We should give back to her for a change.
5. A gift certificate to L’Oreal. She ought to get this stuff for free, but apparently Solange cashed out all of her coupons a few years ago when she rocked those multi-colored braids. After I used ‘the Google’ I discovered L’Oreal has a variety of hair coloring products. Beyonce should try to find a new look to go with her shorter hair. Or hell, if she wants to use the scissors to cut Kelly’s gripe on her, that’s fine, too. Just get another hair color. Something new. Something different. Something actually shocking…
…because that isn’t it, Queen Bee. Love you, but I’m just saying you looked like that in 2006, 2006, 2004, and 2003. I’m more shocked the people of India and Asia haven’t signed an international treaty to stop selling you that hair color.
6. A all-expense paid trip to Borders. That way we won’t have that expression after reading and/or watching one of her interviews.
7. Letting her breathe. This means you, hating ass hater. Roots are real, ya dig?
Yeah, I’m done now. She doesn’t need anymore gifts. She’s already rich as hell and married to someone even richer.
I remember turning over to the B-Side of my cassette copy of the “Will You Be There” single and being instantly spooked out of my mind by the sound of Michael Jackson singing as if he was holding back tears.
I didn’t think anyone outside of the Jackson family (both real members and imagined) actually liked that song, but a couple of days later I learned otherwise. My friend said he loves this song because it reminds him of his own childhood. And no, I don’t mean that in a Papa Joe beat him and gave him such a poor self-image he wanted to alter his race and gender, too, sort of way. He said he just remembers liking the song as a kid, and whenever he hears it, he thinks of the past. I can relate because when I look back on my childhood favorites, I instantly think of playing Sade on my Fisher’s Price record player, and listening to Eightball and MJG’s Sittin’ On Top Of The World as my sister drove my brother and I to school (“Friend or Foe” was our favorite).
But this is where it gets tricky. When he told me he liked the song, I blurted out how “Childhood” was depressing as hell. He didn’t know what I meant by that. My response was, “Have you listened to that song? The whole thing is about him never having a childhood and being sad as hell about it.” And then I kept going. And going. And going. He said I ruined the song for him. That wasn’t my intention, but I mean, have ya’ll listened to that song?
As I’ve made clear several times, I love me some Michael Jackson (my namesake), but that song is gloomy. Let me check your wrist after you’re done singing gloomy.
At the time of the conversation, I could only remember the line, “Have you seen my childhood? I’m searching for the world where I come from.” Then I vaguely remembered him in the video looking extra pitiful in the forest like Peter Pan just kicked him out of the Lost Boys. Even back then I knew that song was about Michael Jackson getting his ass beat and never having fun as a child.
I have my own childhood issues. The last thing I needed was another reminder from the poster child for repressed memories of that.
Anyway, when I tried to explain why that song just wasn’t right then or now to me, he quipped back, “Who was paying attention to the lyrics at that age?”
Help me out, ya’ll. I can’t be alone, can I?
Maybe, because after telling another friend about what happened, she chimed in that she loved the song, too. And like him she wasn’t paying attention to the lyrics like that. She just thought it sounded nice. That I can understand, but someone tell me they can understand why someone – even a kid – wouldn’t be leading the sing-a-long to “Childhood.”
I’ve since looked up the lyrics to this song, and if I weren’t convinced Michael needed to go see a therapist after recording that song (or a few decades prior), I am now.
Have you seen my Childhood? I’m searching for the world that I come from ‘Cause I’ve been looking around In the lost and found of my heart… No one understands me They view it as such strange eccentricities… ‘Cause I keep kidding around Like a child, but pardon me…
People say I’m not okay ‘Cause I love such elementary things… It’s been my fate to compensate, for the Childhood I’ve never known…
Have you seen my Childhood? I’m searching for that wonder in my youth Like pirates in adventurous dreams, Of conquest and kings on the throne… Before you judge me, try hard to love me, Look within your heart then ask, Have you seen my Childhood?
People say I’m strange that way’ Cause I love such elementary things, It’s been my fate to compensate,for the Childhood I’ve never known…
Have you seen my Childhood? I’m searching for that wonder in my youth Like fantastical stories to share The dreams I would dare, watch me fly…
Before you judge me, try hard to love me.The painful youth I’ve had Have you seen my Childhood….
The song is beautifully written, but I still want to write him a prescription. And before the MJ Unit e-got’s me, I see the appeal in the song. It’s sweet and shit, all that.
But all of this has got me to thinking do people really not pay attention to lyrics?
I remember trying to explain how Rihanna’s lyrical content was overtly sexual and obviously penned by a man and people looking at me as if I told them I just spotted Jesus doing “My Dougie.”
Most of the time, I refer to “Lemme Get That,” where she’s saying stuff like, “Wish I was in a flick, and I ain’t talking movies.” She also mentions something about “Why complain, he buying Gucci, babe?” Sounds like Tweety and Big Bird penned it, right?
I usually miss a lot of things when I first hear a song, too. Like the remix to “Your Body’s Callin’.” I had no idea a minor Aaliyah was telling Pissy, “Are you hungry? Do you want to eat?” Why wasn’t that included in his trial?
I would think these days most people could catch the lyrics on any most songs out now given so many of them have a 50 word, two syllable limit.
Besides, what if they’re giving away lotto numbers in a song? You would be missing out.
So c’mon nah, fill me in: Do you pay attention?
P.S. Mike could’ve added a little bit more color to the cast. He knows he could have let the Black boy fly, too.
And if I have ruined “Childhood” for you, too, I’m sorry. Don’t blame me, though. Blame Joe.
I had a feeling the upper echelon of “Black leaders” (generally self-appointed) would not be impressed by Barack Obama’s speech last week. Heaven forbid someone not speak solely through the prism of race. By their standards I would probably be ushered out of the Black community for saying this, but I’m glad that despite taking place on the 45th anniversary of the “I Have A Dream” speech, Obama didn’t spend half an hour talking about Dr. King. Instead of going on and on…and on about the dream, Obama opted to step out of a time warp and not kill his chances at becoming President — thus putting him on pace to achieve part of what Dr. King hoped for.
I don’t know why so many in their positions continue to act as if we elected them to be President, Senator, and Congressman of Black people, but someone ought to donate a clue. For all the legitmate reasons to criticize Obama, they choose to rant about him not speaking on their terms. This is exactly why no one outside of their circle listens to them anymore.
If Obama ran a campaign to their standards, he wouldn’t be in a position to possibly plan an inaugural ball. No, he would be at Kim’s Beauty Supply shopping for a Duke Kit so he could audition for his role as the new Jesse Jackson at Hillary’s inauguration.
Maybe I’m just a little tired of the Black bourgeoisie driving the wheel and leading us to a dead end, but this video serves an another example of why there is such a huge discontent generationally. People my age don’t really relate to this way of thinking, which is why so many are open to Obama. I understand the idea of having to know where you’ve been to know where you’re going, but in order to move forward, you have to be forward thinking.
Dry Eyes on Barack Obama’s chances this November: “I think if I may say so, there’s just too many people not going to vote for a Black candidate — especially a Black angry candidate.”
I love that he follows up that statement with, “I hate to say that because I abhor racism.” Ye ain’t got to lie to kick it, Ben Stein. You’re on the channel where Black people are often treated as the station’s arch nemesis, so there’s no need to couple a lie with an even bigger one. Especially when the premise of the question you’re answering is already loaded.
Barack Obama is about as angry as a Sade record. If the poster child for mild mannerness is considered angry, I can only imagine what I would be considered if I decided to become Senator Sinick.
