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There comes a point when you have to stop feeling sorry for someone and speak plainly. To wit: Britney Spears the performer sucks now and I wish the mainstream press would give up the act about her already. As soon as I heard word that she would be performing at the Billboard Music Awards, I knew how the post-show headlines would look. Bullshit headers like, “Britney Sizzles With Rihanna on Stage.” If by sizzle you mean draw blank stares from people who can remember Britney before she succumbed to sedation, consider my eyes set ablaze.

Rihanna looked amazing as usual and sounded okay at best per usual. She still danced like she was ready for her shift at the Puss and Boots to end, but at least she sang live. And you know, at least she bothered to move her body at all. Whatever, by now we know what to expect. Loud knocks and that’s enough for me.

Still, Britney Spears made Rihanna look like Tina Turner after being hooked up to an IV of Red Bull by comparison. I like her and find her to be sweet, but seriously what is the point of Britney Spears anymore?  If you can’t dance, you should at least sing. And if you can’t swing a pillow with energy maybe it’s best you just go lay on one.


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There’s a rumor going around that Nicole Prescovia Elikolani Valiente Scherzinger is bedding a music executive over at Interscope — explaining why despite failure after failure as a solo artist she keeps getting another shot at individual stardom. That’s pretty sexist to say and shame on you all for spreading such a rumor. Oh, who am I kidding? There has to be some explanation for this.

Is it pumps and bump with the boss? “Could be, could be not. Can’t say.” Whatever it is, though, I have a resolution: Stop trying.

Y’all know I don’t take pride in being a dream killer, but be that as it may can someone loan me a glock so I can take Nicole’s dreams of becoming a more successful Vanity out back and put it out of its misery? It’s like the Old Yeller of fantasies now. No sense in letting that dream suffer in ICU any longer.


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Let’s get all of the formalities out of the way first. Yes, I’ve seen Beyoncé’s new video. Of course, I am in love with it. Naturally, I think it’s the best video released so far this year. Actually, I do think it’s probably Beyoncé’s best video to date. Sure, she is putting your favorite to shame. No, I don’t care that you don’t like it. Uh, I’ll pass on arguing back and forth about it. Eh, if you think I have an obsession I think my genitals need a barber.

There, have we covered all of the basics? Seriously, if you like it, I love you, if you don’t, I still love you for caring enough to say so here (although, you should probably email this post to someone who does — they’ll like it more, no?). Anyway, I actually wanted to focus on the morons who are saying Beyoncé’s new video is yet another sign that she is a part of the Illuminati.

Yes, sights of Mufusa, those hating ass hyenas that took Simba’s daddy out, along with some wandering eye all has a village idiot near you thinking that if MTV still did Making The Video, the lost footage would show the devil teaching Beyoncé how to properly flip her hair while doing a sexy stanky legg.

I don’t understand you conspiracy theory loving dimwits are forever looking for the devil in a music video. Why aren’t you in Washington throwing holy water on your trifling ass congressperson and the lobbyist to which he or she serves? Don’t bother giving me an answer the requires a field trip to your acid-abusing friend’s YouTube channel. Just shut up.

Anyway, again, I love the video and since the world is apparently ending tomorrow I better get on the good foot and learn the Tofo Tofo two-step.

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When I heard that Keri Hilson covered a Whitney Houston song not named “Whatchulookinat,” I assumed it was a Beyoncé stan cracking jokes to pass the time until the video for “Run The World (Girls)” premiered. Then I found out the story was real. My initial reaction was obvious: I’d rather hear Lil’ Boosie cover “Like A Virgin” than catch Keri Hilson covering Nippy’s “I Have Nothing.”

Man, where is Ursula The Sea Witch and a Deal or No Deal host when you need one?

I will say, though, the girl has confidence. Maybe some assumed she had none after the way she flung her vagina around the dungeon room in that God awful video for “The Way You Love Me,” but oh no, folks, it’s there. Why else would she dare to sing a Whitney Houston ballad?

Curiosity got the best me of way, so after listening to her rendition of the song while I give her credit for daring to dream, I hope the nightmare she gave her throat brings her back to reality. I’m not one of those people who think Keri Hilson can’t sing. I think she has a decent voice, only one for pop songs like “Beautiful Mistake” and “Happy Juice.” Or you know, one of those Timbaland tracks. But this here, this shit here, yeah, that ain’t it.

Someone has been whispering in this girl’s ear. I need her ear to buy a flyswatter.

There’s confidence and there’s delusion. Don’t ever confuse the two or you’ll end up sounding like you’re paying homage to the WB frog versus Whitney Houston’s songwriter. Okay, maybe it wasn’t that bad but it’s not that good either. Worse, it’s further perpetuating this new trend that is artists from the 00s ruining songs from the 1990s and late 80s that we love. This means you Omarion, Sammie, and a couple of other people whose names escape me for good reason. Stop it. Stop it right now.

Or, stick to something like this:

If it helps, Keri, dedicate this part to me:

“Messing with my reputation, ain’t even got no education! Trying to mess with my concentration, ain’t even got a clue w/ what I’m facing!”

I can totally see Keri killing the dance breakdown at the end.

P.S. Keri looked awesome. Gon’….and use that fit and cut for another song selection.

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These days I enjoy Ciara about as much as a dyslexic likes a surprise spelling bee. Even still, after watching this interview, I have to say from the bottom of my detachable heart: Don’t listen to Rodney Jerkins, Ciara. At least not completely anyway.

When asked about Ciara and her dusty Starkist can at the 99 Cents Store career she currently has, Rodney told Rap-Up: “She has to get back to where she started. You know she had a lane that was specifically hers. You know that ghetto, urban lane with the 808s. No female was doing that and she had it. I think [if] she gets back to that, go back to the blueprint…”

If this were 2006 I’d be inclined to say listen to Rodney and his, “Sometimes you gotta stick to your formula and work at that,” piece of advice.

But after Ciara’s second flop I think it’s disingenuous at this point to say, “All you gotta do is take it back to the hood.” Wasn’t that exactly her aim with Basic Instinct? And how well did that do again.


I thought so. With her career where it is she’s going to need far more than an 808 to get back to musical relevance. Don’t you worry, though. I have tips. Yes, I’m thoughtful that way.


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Four years ago today I listened to (Mother) Oprah Winfrey offer me and the rest of the 2007 graduating class of Howard University advice that’s stayed with me. And naturally, saw my credit score rise just from merely being in her presence.

Though, I’m not exactly where I want to be I can take comfort in knowing that for better or worse I am supporting myself by doing what I love. I definitely want to accomplish more between now and the fifth anniversary of graduation, but in the moment, I’m glad I’m getting to put my thoughts out there.

This week I wrote about myths for two different sites. One myth may be deadly for some, the other just kind of annoying to me. In sum: Don’t let “the trade” or Baloo (that’s NeNe Leakes to you) fool y’all.

Now if you would be so kind to check out both, hit a ‘Like,’ share via the Twitter and all that good stuff I’d be most appreciative.

Do masculinity myths put black men at higher risk for HIV?

Yes, There Are Positive Images of Black Women on Reality TV

Oh and do not worry, the day before commencent at the School of Communications graduation, I walked it out on stage and dropped it low at the club. Smile and pop lock.

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I have no idea why Bravo ended up passing on Braxton Family Values. That show epitomizes all that is good about reality TV. While I do love each of the sisters and their little quirks and on-air tiffs, the more I hear Tamar Braxton go on and on (and on again) about wanting her chance at solo stardom (again) the more I think about the music from every Braxton not named Toni.

I’ve been playing The Braxtons’ cover of Diana Ross’ “The Boss” regularly for about two weeks now. It is the perfect song to spin around and be the occasional stereotype to. You know, if you’re into that sort of thing. I actually had their debut album, but for the life of me couldn’t remember this song or video.

I do remember their first single, “So Many Ways” and my favorite song of theirs, “Slow Flow,” but not this one.

Their songs weren’t as good as Toni’s, but in hindsight that wasn’t their only problem. For those of you under the age of or hovering slightly above 25 didn’t you think Tamar, Towanda, and Traci were much older than they actually were back then?

Maybe it was because I was still on the school bus and assumed them to be much older, but if Tamar is 34 now she had to have been barely in her 20s at the time of this video. Her sisters couldn’t have been that much older either. The way their people packaged them I could’ve sworn they were playing pitty pat with Patti Labelle in the ’70s.

Another thing I remember is a few folks making it seem like  they were such bugawolves when compared to Toni. Maybe a few of them look like Toni minus a few chromosomes now, but they weren’t mudducks then. If anything, I can actually see why the sisters pulled Traci to the side about her drinking in a recent episode. She was a lot smaller before she started throwing that brown back. And prettier!

I actually don’t see it for Traci or Towanda as solo stars, but I do see a missed opportunity for Tamar. I loved “No Disrespect” and “If You Don’t Wanna Love Me.” It’s a shame Tamar never got to be the star she wanted to be. I used to feel bad for her. That is, until I watched Braxton Family Values. Tamar may have all the right qualities to be a reality TV star, but those are the very qualities that makes it hard to take her seriously as an artist. Maybe she’ll get a spin-off in a year or so for her troubles. Something that chronicles her attempts to launch a solo career at 35. I’ll cop the iTunes single.

I’m getting a little sad about this show ending its first season so soon. They’re all kind of amazing. I’m happy they’re at least getting a second chance at some nominal level of success in entertainment.

As I wait for another episode to run tonight, I’m going to share a few of my favorites from their commercially unsuccessful catalog. Poor things.


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Last month a scenario that I knew was coming had finally arrived: My student loan payments were now more than my rent.

Unlike my behavior earlier in the year when I was first alerted that I would be abruptly making payments the size of mortgages in the South, I did not spazz out completely. I didn’t even curse as much as those who know me best would have expected me to. Don’t get me wrong, this shit still sucks. It also still feels like another distraction that prevents me from fully focusing on the work that would get me to the place where these sort of things will no longer bear that great a burden on me anymore.

I know that in the end, it is up to me that to achieve my dreams. I realize that sleep is a luxury people with my levels of ambition can’t always afford to enjoy. And yes, I know that I believe I can fly, that there ain’t no mountain high enough, and that age ain’t nothing but a number. Wait, I’m confused now.

Anyway, naturally with the higher the payment comes an even bigger workload and far more stress. I currently have some other really big burden on my back right now, but I won’t bother you with the details. I’ll be fine. I always will be.

I do want to say this, though: I’m still going to end up in the higher tax bracket that I belong in.

I hope it doesn’t take much longer, but it’s coming.

When that glorious day does come know that I’m going to shade the shit out of Sallie Mae, and more importantly act a true damn fool on that fucker of a financial institution, Citibank.

The week after my final check clears I am flying to South Dakota and staging a cut up of epic proportions outside of their corporate headquarters.

I’m going to show up dressed like a Saudi Royal and then proceed to stand on a crate with a megaphone and yell at those sum’bitches like a Black Israelite.

I’ll also have a BBQ pit out front and have random sympathizers join me in tossing ribs at the front door.

Later that day, I’m going to call out the big girl background dancers I hope will follow me around full-time in the future and hold a twirk off to Lil’ Wayne’s “Did It Before” and Beyoncé’s “Green Light.”

It won’t be all fun, though, because I’m going to curse and curse and curse.

Curse about how those assholes wouldn’t work with me despite my great efforts to be as responsible as possible. Curse about how flat out disrespectful they were to me at the beginning of the year. Curse about all of the people they’ve fucked over out of greed.

Oh and yes, I’ll curse myself out yet again for even turning to them to fund my education. But don’t trip: I’ll be directing much of my anger at their punk asses. Hopefully, I’ll have a camera crew there, too. I’d much rather show out with an audience.

If profanity offends you please skip the following sentence: I’m going to yell, “Fuck them! Fuck them! Fuck them! Drop dead, bitch ass Citbank! Fuck them!”


And then I’ll hit my dougie.

Don’t worry: I don’t want your sympathy, pity, or shade (some people are assholes, as evidenced by the piece I wrote about my plight for The Root in 2009). Just know that I’m going to pay it off and then I’m going to act a natural fool to spite these loan shark-like corporations.

Now as you were.

P.S. I’m going to start a scholarship fund, too. I have a heart.

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Less than five minutes into Lady Gaga Presents the Monster Ball Tour: At Madison Square Garden I was able to admit something I had been shying from saying aloud for quite some time: Lady GaGa is kind of corny.

As much as I’ve enjoyed her music, it’s hard to continue denying that she sometimes gives off a whiff of Frito-Lay. Especially given the  campy way in which she opened her concert special. Her faux Truth or Dare scene came in the form of GaGa suddenly bursting into tears.

When trying to explain the sudden tear flow, GaGa said, “I just wanna be a queen for them.”

Ah yes. GaGa is still singing that song about being some downtrodden loser in high school who has gone on to secure pop stardom and is now using it to inspire all of the other outcasts out there that they, too, are somebody special.

It’s a cute message albeit somewhat tainted given what’s come out about her in the last year or so.

For those of you who watch Glee, Lady GaGa is basically Quinn pretending to be Rachel.


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