Happy B’Day

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Merry B’Day, people. I tried to explain to some people that today is a holiday, but a few of them (only a few — game recognize game, for the most part) gave me the side eye. I told them they were acting like Solange. Don’t be petty, ya’ll. Bask in the moment.

Today is the day we honor the Queen by giving her our money. If you say to yourself, “That b-tch is already rich!” you are a hater, pimp. Maybe that excuse works for everyone else, but not Beyonce. Why? Well there are some things in life we just can’t explain. Other things have no real explanation — a person simply makes some shit up and pretend it makes all the sense in the world.

I don’t care which one you choose to believe as long as you go buy her album. I would suggest the double disc version. I’m more of a fan of Sasha. She seems like the type that will get drunk and show the stripper how to really work the pole. And when she eats Popeyes, she won’t feel bad about it. These days the other one seems like she’s currently eating a lettuce flatbread sandwich listening to Sheryl Crow.

Now should you choose not to buy her album and actually tell me you downloaded it without throwing $9.99 – $13.99 (get it on sale, folks) to the crown, I’m reporting you to the RIAA. My friend made that mistake last night. She ought to be getting a little notice soon. Don’t do Bee.

If you’re reading this and thinking to yourself, I sound Yolanda Saldavar-ish, you’re not being fair. I would never take a job from Kelly Rowland. She needs all the work she can get these days. It’s merely that Beyonce has been so good to us, we ought to return the favor.

Janet’s got major headaches, and judging from her last couple of albums, a serious ear injection. Ciara or Super C seems to be having both an identity crisis and a case of wackitis. Rihanna is pretty, but she doesn’t have the thighs of power like Beyonce. And Mya, well see the previous post. I would name other people if it were still 1998, but it’s not so why bother.

Beyonce is the best we have. Enjoy her now before has Jigga’s little Kool cigarettes and spreads like Chaka Khan. So if the mood strikes you to dance in the street, the sidewalk, the gym, or Target, go with it. I do that all the time.

P.S. A friend just recommended I do a rendition to “Single Ladies” and post it on YouTube. I would rather let my balls play in the California wildfires than do some shit like that. I celebrate with a receipt, a biscuit, and a jig.

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