So maybe it’s time for me to reevaluate my life goals and the methodology in which I plan to attain them.
It’s becoming increasingly harder not to be at least a teensy bit jaded about celebrity culture’s choke hold on the media. Yesterday, I read that New York Times best-selling author, Snooki, admitted that she has no idea who J.K. Rowling and Maya Angelou are. I still have yet to see a single episode of Jersey Shore (on purpose), but based on what I’ve seen of Snooki in the press that revelation doesn’t surprise me at all. She’s just one of many intellectually challenged personalities turned pretend writers who can claim to be best-selling authors despite needing a ghostwriter to help them finish writing their ABCs.
Another that comes to mind is Tyrese, who can also boast of being a New York Times best-selling author although he has trouble spelling the word author. Of course, all Coca Cola crooner did was follow a formula laid out by Steve Harvey. Basically: Give people advice on subject matter your own life suggests you know little about. Or in the cases of others, project your own insecurities about race, gender, relationships, and self-identity to people who have been beaten over the head with nonsense, and thus, are gullible enough to buy yours.
If you think I sound like rock and sea salt run through my veins, I can’t say that I blame you for concluding so. I will pay each of the aforementioned this compliment: Every one of them had enough sense to capitalize on their fame and broaden their appeal to maximize their earning potential. Still, this is madness especially since now your technically trained writers are beginning to follow their leads.
I read Tracy McMillan’s memoir, I Love You And I’m Leaving You Anyway. I also checked out that Huff Post piece she wrote about why women aren’t married. Something about them being bitches, shallow, and some other stuff that sounds like it came from the varsity cheerleading squad for male chauvinism. Naturally, that means she has a book coming: Why You’re Not Married…Yet: How To Stop Acting Like a Bitch And Start Getting Hitched. A show called Why You’re Not Married is on the horizon, too.
McMillan is a funny writer, but I don’t get the point in telling women to stop being bitches over a problem that can be statistically attributed to several factors. I really fail to understand how a three-time divorcee can pen a book shelling out advice on marriage. Then again, I’ve read people call Tyrese and his employment of various gender stereotypes insightful.
The other day, the homie Bassey Ikpi tweeted to me about my Beyoncé piece for The Root, calling it “thoughtful and measured.” She did note, though, “…so of course it’ll fall on deaf ears.” She’s right. I’m trying to write well-written material that seeks to make people laugh and think. That’s a horrible way to write in 2011. I’m hustling backwards.
I’ve decided to join the trend and consider writing a book about some shit I know not a thing about. I have a working title in mind: Pulsate The Pussy: A Gay Guy’s Guide To Straight Sex. Initially, I considered joining the female bashing trend and was going to pitch an essay called: “Your Life Is Meaningless If You’re 30 and Unmarried. Same For You, Gays. Your Day of Reckoning Is Coming!”
Unfortunately, I don’t hate women so I can’t go that route. But, I’m comfortable with the idea of pretending to be an expert to pay off my real loans. Doing it by merit takes an extremely long time.
Which leads me to the point of this post: I want to marry Rob Kardashian.
I have entertained the thought before this career epiphany for obvious reasons. What are they? Look at Rob Kardashian from behind. Hello, obvious reasons.
Undoubtedly, this would give me a great boost, but I think this would be beneficial to him, too. Yes, Rob’s doing Dancing with the Stars or whatever, but he’s still in the shadow of his sisters. At the rate he’s going now, he’s never going to get his own spin-off. I mean, he hasn’t been exactly doing anything on the Kardashian shows he’s already featured on. If he and I got married, he can snatch the gay icon crown from Kim and my future mother-in-law could flip that into a show.
I’ve already thought of potential plot lines for our reality series.
1. We get married in New York because it’s legal there and Mama Jenner doesn’t want another one of her kids shacking up. I’ll be happy to be back on the East Coast, Rob will miss In-N-Out Burger so thus, conflict. Then I will find out Rob had lunch with his ex-girlfriend (I’ll know because I sent the emails to her publicist), the one from 702 Cherish 3LW and The Cheetah Girls. I will confront her on the following episode where I quote Mokenstef. I’ll also let Adrienne know that she won’t be throwing KFC on me like the girl who upset Lil’ Kim ‘cause she wasn’t light skinned when playing her in a movie that she used to work with.
2. I don’t know, something about Twitter. That sounds mundane enough as a potential episode, right?
3. We hire trainers to get our bodies together. No shade to my future sister-in-law, Khloé, but there’s already one plus-size Kardashian. E! won’t accept two for much longer. And the finer he gets, the more he’s ogled. A gay Kardashian wedding is already worth at least two Us Weekly covers. New bodies will give us one more and maybe an In Touch feature. Since I’m black, I can try to finagle additional coverage, too. Kris will love me: I’m always thinking.
I have a feeling Kim will love me just as much.
See what I mean? Not to mention her favorite singer is the Queen and her favorite Nate Dogg featured song is Snoop’s “Ain’t No Fun.” We’re soul mates.
Khloé and I both curse a lot so we’ll be fine. Amerie Kardashian may potentially pose a little trouble, but I can check her if she comes for my husband. Then we’ll bond after or something.
I think this is a great idea. I’m pretty sure Kathie Lee Gifford and Hoda would let us guest-host the Today show (I’m into corporate mergers when it suits my own interests). We could become America’s favorite gay couple, or the very at least, place a strong second to Ellen and Portia.
I might be even able to convince President Obama to lay off the Kardashians based on our shared love of Beyoncé. And you know, I write about politics and shit. I also loved Dreams of My Father. I smell future White House invites when the administration needs some gays on their side.
For those of you ready to bark, “Didn’t you just write about not being the marrying kind?” Look, that was before I realized that these days it’s better to be a celebrity or at least celebrity adjacent before being anything else. Besides, see Rob in slacks. That’s worth giving marriage a try alone.
And there you have it. Rob will break out of his sisters’ shadow, find a job, and prove to Kris Jenner that she doesn’t have to go and set up a casting call to find a more profitable son. Meanwhile, I’ll earn cheap celebrity status that will get me closer to my dreams. Plus, I’ll have a big butt having pretty boy. This fairytale sounds sweet enough for Disney. I’m like Cinderella with a cock.
By now quite a few of you are thinking to yourself, “Michael is out of his damn mind.” Well, some of you probably assumed that anyway so there. I’m no less crazy than the society that has divorcees as relationship experts and functional illiterates with titles traditionally afforded to people above 8th grade reading levels.
Yes, hard work, perseverance and faith can still get me to my dreams, but fuck all that right now. If I married Rob Kardashian this shit would happen a lot sooner and easier. And it would benefit him, too. See how selfless I’m being? That will help our marriage last.
What do you say, Rob? Will you marry me? If the sex part of our marriage throws you off at first, do not fret, future partner-in-crime. Slow and steady wins the race – with lubricant. For the record, we’re not filming it. Would totally ruin my plans to be a children’s author (everyone’s doing that, too). If he accepts, my future publicist will let y’all know about the ceremony.