Let’s Not Advocate Death Over Droopy

I didn’t think people were still pressed about Michael Vick and assumed that the public was collectively over it. Now that President Obama has called the Philadelphia Eagles owner for giving Michael Vick another chance (along with creating jobs in the Philly area through cleaner energy initiatives) and all hell broke loose as a result of it, I know Team Boo Boo still has beef.

On one side anyway. I would certainly love to not make this an issue of color, but the anger directed at Vick on behalf of the cast of Goof Troop still appears to be overwhelmingly one-sided. Yes, there are some black people who wouldn’t mind hurling a dog bone at Michael Vick’s neck but they are in the minority.

I’ve seen plenty of slick comments directed at both Obama and Vick since the Obama story made the rounds, but it’s officially gone too far now that someone has said that Vick deserved to be executed as punishment for his participating in Puppy Wrestlemania.

Roll it:

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Go Away, Go Far Far Away

Between traveling, deadlines, and projects I’m working on the updates have been rather scant around here. Things should be back to semi-normal once I’m back in my own place. In the meantime, though, do check out my latest piece for The Root. The title is straight and to the point: “Celebrities Who Need To Go Away In 2011.”

Click here to read it. Please ‘Like it’ on Facebook, pass around on ‘The Twitter’ and all that.

Yeah, it’s very likely none of them actually will but read it anyway. I should have another link to share, too. That is, if I get off this thing first. Bear with me.

Sweating With The Oldies

This Saturday many of you of a darker hue may be asked to teach your auntie, uncle, and too cool for bingo grandparents to teach the latest dances. And by latest dances I mean the ones they’re only now hearing about because Wolf Blitzer, Barbara Walters, and Justin Bieber are all being featured doing them during the evening news.

Wait, who am I kidding? Half of them heard about it on radio but couldn’t “play it on the YouTube” because they got confused with the spelling (silly old people and being taught correct grammar). That’s where most of you come in.

More times than not, you don’t want to be put on the spot to dance or at least I don’t. Telling old heads this will usually result in elderly ridicule — the sucking of teeth, the non-sharing of alcohol, and the littlest piece of meat or you plate, what have you.

That’s where this video comes in. Child, old folks done found their own groove. I say this with the most sincerity: I am proud. Look at this video, people. It’s like Glee meets Soul Train. These VIP in the hole in the wall club older black people with friend have said forget you kids, we wanna jig like we used to. We should encourage this, which means if you’re asked to teach someone how to do a dance you quit doing this summer, pull up this video.

Personally, it’s too many damn steps in this choreography for me. However, my first vote in a presidential election was for John Kerry, not Jimmy Carter so this stuff ain’t for me. Still, I champion it.

Do ya’ll hear Pops kick off by saying, “Let’s bust this?!” Well go ‘head then, sir.

Why do I feel like after they finished this shoot they settled up on some ribs, Thunderbird, and performed Ashford and Simpson? And I bet Britney Spears’ mama in the front to the right kicked it all off with “Solid.” Get it, girl.

Also, have you noticed the song they are all dancing to was made by Jamie Foxx. I have stayed clear of as much of Jamie’s latest music as possible. Sorry, I’m just not comfortable with him making songs with Soulja Boy.

I hope someone sends this clip to him and reminds him that old people love him. If he keeps up trying to sound like a teenager all of the people in this video are going to turn him off and put that old Luther album back on. Then again, if you’re of a certain demographic making up dances and uploading them online chances are you think you’re “hip.” So “hip” that you’re probably making up a dance to all of  Jamie’s new album as I type.

In fact, someone’s pappy is telling nana, “Yep, that’s me. Yep!” at this very moment.

Whatever makes them happy. Anyway, if you or someone younger that you love don’t feel like playing the game of “get up and show me that dance,” here you go. You’re welcome.

If I Were A Claus

Despite not having watched A Diva’s Christmas Carol yet, or snacked on too many of my mama’s cookies, or cursing out a relative for cursing out all of the other ones, I’m slowly starting to get in the spirit of Christmas.

Well, as much as a heathen who hasn’t gone Christmas shopping at all (or church, for that matter — Jesus is the reason and stuff) possibly can.

[Read this part in a Kat Stacks voice, please.] “Anyway, doe.”

Regardless of how I’m feeling (or not), I still want to chime in and continue on with the holiday tradition of slick ass talk from me under the guise of gift giving.

That said, let’s get going, kids.

If I were Santa, here’s what I would give some of your favorites – particularly your least.

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C’mere Wolf Boy

I know what some of you are thinking: “Negro with an igga, you been ghost for more than a week and you come back blogging about this shit?”

Look, I’ve been working hard on…other things. Plus, if I’m being perfectly honest, ideas were a little scarce as I hit up various editors with pitch after pitch in order to avoid hitting the pole and potentially catching a permanent itch.

But hey, it’s better than not posting, right?

Probably not if I’m coming back talking about a movie called Wolf Boy, huh?

Well whatever, I might actually see this. Probably not because this looks like a cinematic masterpiece or anything. Full disclosure: I only clicked on the trailer because the preview image on the homepage of World Star Hip Hip was of Romeo Miller with his shirt off.

Now that he’s allowed to buy us a drink without catching a club a case, I can say that without shame.

In theory, I support the idea of black filmmakers going for the genre less traveled. Not every film needs to depress me or try and make me laugh at a joke only funny to people who can’t define the word stereotype without stuttering. At the same time, though, I’m not sure what to make of a movie called Wolf Boy starring Master P’s kid.

There’s only two scenarios for such a flick: Either you’ll be surprisingly entertained or predictably pissed off you didn’t use your time better — like say, pouring Four Loko into your ear for the hell of it.

Show of hands: Who plans on watching this on YouTube in six or seven months? And am I the only one who clicked on the link for incredibly shallow yet still very much satisfying reasons?

Be honest even if you’ll be clowned for it the way I’m sure some of you are about to clown me.

You Don’t Have To Like Dick To Enjoy Diddy

Trust me when I say that it was extremely difficult for me not to kick off this blog entry by titling it, “Fuck you, Charlamagne!” and then proceeding to write “Fuck you! Fuck you! Pause that, nigga!” over and over again.

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Please Don’t Come Back Into The Studio

Disclaimer: The following post is themed around a sad, sad song called “She Said (Don’t Cum In Me).” Therefore, I’m letting you know this may not be totally safe for work unless you have headphones and/or don’t have some nosy ass co-worker all up in yours.

If such is the case for you, feel free to proceed:

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Large Women, Plastic Guns and Sad Raps

Hark, the herald hood harlot sings. It appears another female rapper (or something) has decided to take their manufactured beef for attention with Nicki Minaj to the World Star Hip Hop home page. This time the beef comes in the form of someone who is best described as the Lady of Rage’s meaner auntie. Or uncle, I haven’t quite decided.

Yes, you see Mowett Ryder has joined Keys, Lil’ Kim, and a bunch of other women you don’t give a damn about in launching tirades at the new Queen Bee of Female Rap.

There are many things one could say about Mowett. The first being the obvious: She has the stupidest rap name ever. I’m assuming her name is some sort of homage to liquor and I don’t know, motorcycles, the record label, or someone’s face and/or penis. Whatever the name is rooted in, it’s corny.

Then there’s the other obvious thing about her: She sucks as a rapper. Like she’s really, really terrible. So awful that I now think Hi Dolla Honey may be the second coming of Eminem by comparison.

I happen to share Minaj’s notion that at this point it’s best for all women in rap to get along. However, I realize that Santa isn’t real (spoiler) and that one person’s success sometimes spawns stunts from jealous suckers. So, I get Mowett’s shtick but my thing is if you’re going to take that route can’t you at least make it interesting?

All I see in this video is a large woman with her co-workers from that bail bonds place across the street from Church’s Chicken toting plastic guns in a rented car making veiled threats via trite lyrics for a low budget rap video.

Bah humbug.

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World Star Hip Hop Can’t Help You, Fool

I’m going to go out on a limb and say at this point the general consensus is that something in the milk ain’t clean when it comes to Raz-B and his growing list of accusations. However, what some of us may differ on is the methodology this Huey, Dewey and Louie lookalike is employing to plead his case to the public.

In my latest essay for The Root, I chime in on whether or not Raz-B is taking the very serious issue of molestation and making into something nothing short of spectacle.

You can click here to check it out. Feel free to register and leave a comment.

I Need Answers

1. Is anyone else wondering if a North and South Korean are somewhere now in a joint chat session on Skype going, “Man, this Lil’ Kim/Nicki Minaj beef needs to cool down before something serious happens?”

2. If Katy Perry can score an Album of the Year nomination at the Grammys, can I be nominated for a Nobel Peace Prize for the hell of it?

3. Will Raz-B stop testifying on World Star Hip Hop and go try his luck with a real jury?

4. Now that I have Miguel can I stop trying to force myself to like Bruno Mars?

5. Will Rihanna ever realize that just because she keeps saying anyone who criticizers her is unhappy with themselves that doesn’t make it true?

6. Can someone confirm to me that Lori Petty is indeed still alive so I can let go of my theory that Eminem stole her face and body?

7. Wouldn’t it be nice if those who can’t stand Nicki Minaj shut the fuck up about it already and move on with their lives?

8. Will someone please alert the California music scene that Texas artists created their “new dances” two-three years ago and that it’s okay to come up with their own ideas?

9. Although he’s on track for “redemption” with the ample amount of praise for his new album (deservingly so), will Kanye West find some new and interesting ways to mess up all over again?

10. Has anyone set up a virtual prayer circle to ask God to make sure that illiterate illegal alien Kat Stacks gets sent back to Slutonia yet?

11. Did the Kardashians actually think no one was going to criticize them for their Rush card remix?

12. Doesn’t this posthumous Michael Jackson album seem like a bad idea?

13. Try as he might to make us forget, R. Kelly still sticks out like a urine stain on a pearly white toilet, right?

14. Am I the only one who still can’t confirm if Jason Derulo is a real person?

15. Don’t you miss the days when Katrina Kardashian was simply just da baddest bitch?

16. So Diddy = Pam, Dawn = Keisha, Kaleena = Kima?

17. Why are Mortal Kombat fighters in battle friendlier to each other than Trey Songz is to most interviewers?

18. What’s up with the latest tracks from both Lil’ Kim and Foxy Brown sounding like they were recorded on a refurbished BlackBerry?

19. Ever get that feeling that an usher holding a moneybag is standing behind you after you finish reading Monica’s Twitter timeline?

20. In the issue of fairness, can both Raheem DeVaughn and Keri Hilson fall through a trap door?