I know some of you have recently shown me a full eclipse in light of the infrequent updates over the past few weeks. To that I say: Thank you for pushing me to blog regularly, but until I turn a profit from this thing some days won’t see any updates. Ya’ll trying to have me sell pills and parts.
And since [the man] took away my health insurance, I have to save. I’m driving a Camry, folks. I could be riding dirty so unless I take my brother’s advice and fake an accent in an emergency room, chances are I might need to worry about a potential bill.
That said, if you’re wondering what I’m doing in the meantime I’m still writing.
My most recent piece for AOL News deals with homophobia in Africa. A lot of our fellow black people are out there being persecuted among several nations. If they’re not being jailed for simply being who they are, they’re being slaughtered for it.
And indirectly, many Americans are helping facilitating this criminalization of homosexuality.
If you know you can’t stand gay people and don’t want to read this, no worries, I’ll be back to scolding Wacka Flocka’s English teacher in no time.
However, if you’re open to hearing a different perspective on the matter I invite you to read this piece. Then retweet, Facebook, and email it.
I don’t have a problem with black conservatives in theory. That is, those who fall in line with the pull yourself by your own bootstraps philosophy that conservative ideology is largely based on. I disagree with it as it relates to the role government should have in most instances, but I get it.
Yet for the life of me I’ll never understand these silly colored conservatives who spew out as much of the nonsensical bullshit as their common sense deficient white counterparts do. Most specifically, the asinine accusations and dimwitted theories related to President Obama. I would like to give them more credit than that, but again and again I’m shown instances that tell me that I shouldn’t bother.
By no means do I think the name Barack means, “Slim, Trim, He Is Who Without Sin,” but really, did this jackass just suggest that Barack Obama has something to do with the increased incidents of domestic violence?
He can’t really think something that stupid, can he? I imagine he’s simply saying this for the sake of of garnering himself attention. As pathetic as that may be it at least alleviates my fear that someone slipped wite out into his mama’s breast milk as a child.
Or maybe he is really that simple?
If you don’t remember James T. Harris, he’s the guy who stood up at a McCain rally and said, “I am begging you, sir. Take it to him.” Him would be a then Senator Obama.
I think the left side of my brain tried to commit suicide after seeing that video played over and over again throughout that day’s news cycle. Stupid is as stupid does indeed.
Speaking of stupid, the other day I was greeted by a conservative writer who purposely misinterpreted the recent gallery I wrote for The Root. He tried to say that I placed black conservatives on the same level as dictators. Nevermind that the gallery specifically noted that it spanned pop culture and politics and that those on the list only had one shared characteristic: they’re perceived to be embarrassing.
Truth be told, it wasn’t my idea to include the dictators as much of the post was done in jest, but really, their inclusion didn’t really negate that the gallery was obviously intended to be tongue-in-cheek. And to be blunt, if you see Dennis Rodman, O.J. Simpson, Clarence Thomas, and a dictator, do you really think they’re all equally as offensive?
It would make too much sense to just go with something plainly spelled out to you as is. No, you have to go one step further and remix it so it can point to your invented truth and give you something to bitch about.
This was a white conservative writer, mind you. Apparently he was picking a “fight” all in the name of defending Clarence Thomas. Of course, Alan Keyes was also on the list but he sure did leave him out of the “argument.” I’m sure Alan wouldn’t mind, though. He’s an obedient pet for the GOP.
I suppose the same can be said of James T. Harris.
I guess if you can’t beat ‘em you pretend he’s helping others get beat. Funny how the party of personal responsibility never wants to accept responsibility for its actions. One thing that isn’t funny is how ass backwards so many of the talking heads are.
I’m not shocked that this stray from the last presidential election would mouth of this nonsense, but I still find it no less pathetic.
Do people have no shame?
No need to answer, I know. I want advocate violence in a post themed around heinous accusations of helping facilitate it, but I’ll just say I wouldn’t be mad if his tongue ran away from home the day of his next booked appearance on Fox News.
I believe I miscommunicated my intentions with a previous post. When I asked that you send me new music, I should have prefaced it by noting that I only want ya’ll to send me good music. Something just can’t be ign’t; it has to be jiggable and ign’t. It’s the difference between someone like Lil’ Boosie and this fool, Ken Dahl:
Now I hope the person who emailed me this didn’t think I’d actually enjoy this. Walk the plank? Who in the hell do you think I am? Captain Hook? Not only can I not get jiggy to this shit, I’m tempted to Google Ken Dahl to see if he was born in America. If not, well, don’t be surprised if you see a follow-up post about his deportation.
The first wrong thing about this video is that it starts off with a child and the words, “BITCH, BITCH, BITCH!”
That’s not OK. There had better be a tutor on set or at the very least, a copy of Hooked on Phonics.
Even worse is this goes on with a Pacman like graphic. Uh, Pacman is a legend and Ms. Pacman is video game world’s greatest bust it baby. To quote my NO homie, “Don’t do me that.”
There’s also the issue of his sunglasses, whom he obviously stole from a teenage girl. Or a queen who tries too hard. Whatever the case is, give those glasses back to that girl, sir.
Ugh, and then there’s this jig. What is he doing? There’s a choreographer listed on the YouTube page of this. I’d love for that person to answer. I mean, I was named after Michael Jackson but I can’t pop lock him so by no means am I waiting in the wings to be jumped by Omarion on MTV. Still, I can break these heauxs off if you give me a couple of drinks. That has to count for something, no?
That said, that side to side move combined with a Muhammad Ali impersonation won’t bring anything but a brawl inside of a club. Consider yourselves warned.
The one positive thing I have to say about this song is I enjoy the line: “No one got no where without taking the risk, without doing something different, without pushing the envelop.”
It’s unfortunate that it doesn’t apply to this song, though. This is very much in line with the school of thought that dictates that you can come up with any random beat and throw in a catch phrase and two step and – bam – fools will dance to in the club with no shame.
I count myself among said fools, however, you can’t just throw me any ole’ thing and expect me to throw my hood to it. Granted, this nonsense may be stuck in my head but the same can be said of the stomach virus I had at the beginning of the year.
Jig fail folks. Send me something else.
P.S. I see that this Ken person is on Twitter. I imagine he’ll be cursing me out by sunset. Follow me at @youngsinick if you don’t already.
I know some of you all must be ready to jig, get it big on my skull for not being as frequent with updating as I have been in recent months (and shut up in advance to friends with jokes — I have been updating fairly often), but you all have to understand this blog isn’t earning me Magic City money yet.
That means I have to use what I got to get what I want. Translation: I use my keyboard to hit up editors to write pieces that will get me money and attention. And possibly heaux shit if that heaux Sallie Mae doesn’t hop off my…ya’ll know what I’m saying.
I have something else that should be running this week, but in the meantime, check out my most recent piece for The Root.
They suspended all blogs back in late November, so despite The Recession Diaries being a wrap I still contribute from time to time.
Like now. So do me a favor and go check out the gallery, “Black Folks We’d Like To Remove From Black History.”
If you’re familiar with my overall style you’ll be able to make out which folks were my brainchild.
Updates on The Cynical Ones are on the way, but in the meantime please check out the post and pass it around. Let them know how wonderful I am. If you don’t think I’m wonderful, click the shit anyway.
It’s time to play another round of “Guess if it’s satire.” Admittedly the last time I tried this I failed. That’s what I get for no longer giving people the benefit of the doubt. Nevertheless the latest contestant in “Is you or is you ain’t a fool?” is Nicki Mirage:
Yeah, she’s serious. Game over. Next topic.
A few weeks back I was having a conversation with a friend and as I tried to stress to her, teenagers, gay men, and now straight women of the more hood variety have all fell in love with Nicki Minaj and thus, it’s only a matter of time before the mainstream crowd jumps on and seals her fate as the first female rapper to matter in nearly a decade.
She countered with claims babies don’t buy albums and that Nicki likely won’t even push gold. But last weekend said friend was in Dallas and noticed a trend. I got a text from that said, “You were right all of these women down here look like Nicki Minaj.” And these days you can’t go to the corner store, turn on television without hearing her coming through the radio, TV or computer speakers. She is everywhere! Not to mention on magazine covers galore.
She countered with claims babies don’t buy albums and that Nicki likely won’t even push gold. But last weekend said friend was in Dallas and noticed a trend. I got a text from that said, “You were right all of these women down here look like Nicki Minaj.”
I don’t lie, folks.
As for this Mirage girl, I think I may let you all handle the clowning. I have yet to file my taxes and something tells me taking digs at people who may or may not be sense-deficient can’t be good for my karma.
Wait, who am I kidding? I can’t help myself.
I won’t talk about the girl for falling for Nicki’s shtick – that’s the point for Nicki and this girl is young, so it’s likely just a phase – but I will note that certain things happen when you only read the title of the Hamburger Helper box to your children.
Some people, such as sexyDIVArichbitch, are for crueler than me and let Ms. Mirage have it on YouTube:
u cant be bad when ya whole room is decorated from Target and ya weave is Grammy which cost $10 a pack(I do hair) bitch dont strive to be a Barbie( a fake plastic white girl) just be a bad bitch…u need more time sweetie
I’d like to point out that there’s nothing wrong with Target. And what does Grammy mean? Obviously not the little statute people want to throw at Taylor Swift anymore.
Anyhow, I along with that bitch who shits on Target might not have the full story. Maybe this person could be an aspiring actress and is using this video as an audition reel with the hopes that she’ll net that starring role in Mama, I Wanna Twirk Something.
Whatever it is, it’s between this girl’s God and her pharmacist so let’s focus on what matters: Me being right.
I can’t guarantee the girl’s sales, but I have a hard time believing Nicki is about to tank. As for those mainstream fans coming along, take note:
That is Michelle Trachtenberg Harriet The Spy/Buffy’s little sister and Dawson, no more creeks and paddles in the car proving they know of Nicki’s existence. I think I love Michelle The Spy now. I would post a video of someone who tapped me doing Nicki’s part on “Lil’ Freak” while I was slightly under the influence of a beverage we’re not going to discuss, but I’m no idiot.
In the meantime, let the record show there’s a good way to play along with Nicki and a much scarier way. Please choose wisely.
California readers, why do you hate me? Is it because I’ve said nightlife in LA ends at 12:15 MT? Have I offended my LA brethren by saying Roscoe’s Chicken and Waffles is the “We Are The World” remake equivalent of soul food? Or does it have something to do with that tangent I unleashed on Twitter after [the man] gave me a ticket knowing damn well the meter was broken?
In my defense, I’m not lying about the clubs but I’ll push it back to 12:22 MT as a compromise. Uh, I’ll eat at Roscoe’s if someone else pays. And well, as for that Twitter tantrum, I fought that ticket and it was dismissed so as soon as the state finds another way to come up with the money to fix these raggedy roads we’re all good.
And I like the weather, you know the sun is pretty. And there are pretty people, which really helps bring out the sweet superficial side out of me.
But whatever individual gripe you may have with my slick talk, please don’t let me out of your jigs. Especially if said jigs involve something Texas-based.
Thanks to the lovely, Stiletto Jill, I’m now aware of “Teach Me How To Dougie.”
There’s only one problem, though: This video was added August 8, 2009.
Is that how we’re doing it, Cali? Ya’ll leaving me out like that? I don’t appreciate it. I’m not even going to talk slick about the actual video and the fact that it’s rooted in another city’s sound. I’m actually happy Cali’s finally realizing the correct way to get cheeks moving in the club.
Now that said, I’m going to need all of my readers to quit holding out. If you are aware of new dances and/or songs that are riddled in fuckery then you need to email me.
And if you’re unsure of the sort of songs I’m looking for I have two helpful hints:
1. There needs to be a distinctive beat.
No beat, no chance. It doesn’t even have to be some fancy or overly complicated beef. I am from the south, need I say more?
I’m trying to jig, get it big and that’s it. Respond accordingly.
2. Disrespectful lyrics are probably a good sign.
Do you hear all of these niggas and bitches in the song? Yeah, it’s unfortunate, but chances are once I’m in the club or at the gym or just rolled out of bed I’m not going to be thinking about lyrical content. The best ign’t dance songs are ign’t as all hell.
So if you hear something like “bitch, fuck you, hoe” the song pass it on. I’ll reflect and then feel bad about myself the next day.
Also look for key words like “ratchet,” “crunk,” “aye,” “jig,” and “bounce.” Other words like “independent,” and anything related to money (that the rapper probably doesn’t even have, but I digress) should be looked for, too.
I’m getting older, which means I am unfortunately letting nonsense like knowledge, morals, and maturity thwart my endless search for a pointless club anthem.
But that’s why the internet is so helpful. I have you all to lean on. So Cali, forgive me for the shade I’ve been throwing. If it helps, the weather is still lovely and I plan on buying some bougie shades soon. I bet that’s probably more important to you all than voting in your local elections.
I hope this post has settled any confusion. Send me songs. Now.
And before anyone says it, don’t act like you have no means of contacting me.
Look at the “About Me” page to the right of your screen: My information is there so you have no excuse.
I haven’t been much in the way of practicing Catholicism for quite a while now. What’s quite a while? Uh, I didn’t know Ash Wednesday was this week until about 36 hours ago. Please don’t tell Mama Sinick. A lecture is sure to follow and it would hop, skip, and jig around the theme of, ‘I don’t want you to go to hell.’
Anyhow, while I’m not going to even pretend that I plan on giving up anything for Lent this year I will encourage Christians, and well, everyone with a belief in something or nothing to give up bullshit like this for Lent and hopefully the rest of their lives.
Kanye West did this years ago. Jay-Z already refers to himself as Hov. 2 Pac was paraded around as Messianic well over a decade ago and now lil’ sperm dropper is joining in on the action.
If there was ever a dick-measuring contest of great proportions it’s comparing yourself to a deity-like figure in your art.
Explain to me why Lil’ Wayne is comparable to Christ? Jesus would’ve paid attention in his D.A.R.E. classes, probably wouldn’t have gave New New the business, and I’m highly doubtful he would’ve been into the idea of face tats.
Most people do this for shock value but given so many either ego-strong individuals have already done this, isn’t his cover more of an example of parading around a stale concept?
Is there no other way to get people to take notice than putting yourself on a cross like the fake ass martyr that you are? If Wayne is not responsible for this cover art, my mistake. But to whoever that conceptualized, designed, and approved of this, Jesus be a strong karate chop to the throat. And new ideas.
This short and sweet rant has been brought to you by sometime heathens with clues and fears of lightning bolts.
Yesterday, AOL News posted a piece I wrote about the idea of post-racial America. In short, I feel this country will become “post-racial” the second after Waka Flocka Flame beats Akeelah in the next spelling bee.
What ended up being published was a very tamed and poll-stat friendly version of the sentiments I sought to convey.
Only a week or so ago was I trying to explain to a friend why I wasn’t all that fond of John Mayer. Musically, he’s a good guitarist and a so-so vocalist. In short: He sings like he’s gargling. Mayer’s artistry aside, he always comes across as a jackass in interviews. The sort of guy who likes to be incendiary because he feels it makes him look “cool.” That’s always a telling sign of someone who didn’t grow up with many friends or much attention. Once folks like Mayer get it they do and say whatever to keep it. It’s often hard to separate John Mayer the artist from John Mayer the verbal toilet because the later is so hell bent on outshining the former.
That brings me to his now already infamous Playboy interview, where Mayer gives me another reason to contemplate embracing the term “douche bag.”
Certain sects of the Christian population have become so desperate that they’re willing to sell out their core values for the sake of boosting their numbers.
It’s evident by a slew of new churches selling the message “Jesus wasn’t no punk bitch” as a means of getting more men to join their congregations.
The New York Times recently published a report on the Jesus meets Fight Club marketing plan:
Recruitment efforts at the churches, which are predominantly white, involve fight night television viewing parties and lecture series that use ultimate fighting to explain how Christ fought for what he believed in. Other ministers go further, hosting or participating in live events.
The goal, these pastors say, is to inject some machismo into their ministries — and into the image of Jesus — in the hope of making Christianity more appealing. “Compassion and love — we agree with all that stuff, too,” said Brandon Beals, 37, the lead pastor at Canyon Creek Church outside of Seattle. “But what led me to find Christ was that Jesus was a fighter.”
Old Testament and certain instances of Jesus cracking the whip out against those that disrespected his pops aside, isn’t the focal point of Jesus’ message about compassion, love, and charity? Are those not the themes he fought for in the most non-violent of ways?