Excuses, Excuses

I was ready to lay into the concubine with a cat daddy’s credit card after she bashed play actress, faux fashion designer, but fitter than a weight room Sheree Whitfield for “hanging around a bunch of ugly faggots ’cause she doesn’t have a man.” Then I saw Funky Dineva’s response and felt all I could add was a “Yeah!” That and the fact that Marlo, quickly realizing that bashing gays in Atlanta is like shouting “Allah, eat this ass” at a mosque in Mecca, issued an apology. Two of them at that.

The first read like a bunch of nothing, but the second was obviously tailored to be more sympathetic towards the group who largely fuels her popularity and encourages her obvious desire to join the cast of The Real Housewives of Atlanta. I appreciate her apologizing, though I do question one line from her blog post: “When I used this word, I was not mindful of the demeaning connotation that this has in the gay community.”

That is a crock. To quote my beloved Phaedra Parks, everybody knows that faggot is a gay slur. Every damn body, especially people like her who used the term in a derogatory way. It’s not like she was saying, “Oh, Sheree. You’re such a charming woman with Angela Bassett arms. No wonder those fantastic faggots adore you.” But, alright, Marlo. You apologized. Let’s move on…to the gay men who tried to excuse you.

Last nite I saw a few folks tweet something along the lines of, “I can’t believe y’all are pretending to be offended by that.” Motherfucker, she said faggot. She who sashays across the South bragging about designer clothes designed by gay men. How else would I feel?

I understand that some gay men use that word. That’s fine (for them), but even still it’s used negatively. It’s in no way on  on equal footing with “nigga.” Everyone might not agree on the use of that term either, though it’s evident that the context in which it’s typically used is different. There has been no attempt to add any sort of “positive connotation” to faggot so it’s obvious what Marlo’s intentions were she hurled that slur out there. So whereas some people are ready to “be offended by anything,” others are willing to laugh at whatever even if it’s at their own expense. I’d rather eat Sweetie’s old crotchet braids before I ever abase myself to behave similar to the latter.

Let Him Cook and Eat

Look here, y’all. I’ve been waiting for D’Angelo to come back for a very, very long time. Obviously, I’m overjoyed to see that not only is he back on stage, he’s back on it without sounding like a damn fool. This is a feat and anyone who’s heard any of those sorry (!) demos of his that have leaked in recent years is relishing in it. Indeed, glory be to God that he doesn’t sound like the WB Frog. To that end, I need some of you folks to do me a favor: shut up. Do not scare this man away. I need him more than you know.

Yesterday, Wendy Williams did an impromptu poll among her audience about D’Angelo’s return. The results? They want him to stop eating fried fat back and hire a trainer. They prefer D’Angelo shirtless and with hard rock abs. Go download some porn. Admittedly, D’Angelo continues to look like he ate ODB. Give him credit for at least doing some push ups and reps with the dumb bells. Or not. It’s whatever to me as I don’t give a single fuck about the way he’s looking right now. I’m just happy he’s singing again. So happy that I’m ready to fry his big ass some fish if he so desires.

Do you folks more fixated on his waistline than his vocal chords not realize how bad R&B has gotten, especially when it comes to male R&B artists? Most of whom don’t even deserve to be thrown in that category, for the record. I need D’Angelo — a legitimate soul singer with ability. I can’t take another year of fake R&B thugs naming more designer labels than a queen high on coke and hijacked credit cards.

Likewise, I am exhausted by this Europop dance trend. How much longer do I have to put up with American music artists theming everything around what was poppin’ in Belgium back in 1996? Give us free.

I need a break and D’Angelo might finally help usher in one. I’ve never been attracted to that man, so perhaps that only heightens my inability to side with the superficial. Whatever it is, that “D’Angelo needs to come back until he is cut again” talk needs to go the fuck on somewhere, yo. I remember reading some Spin magazine article a while back about his whereabouts. It seems part of what sent his psyche into a tizzy was him feeling ostracized. People didn’t want to hear the music anymore. They showed up to his concerts ready to fuck him — throwing their panties on stage and what not. We gotta be gentle with Michael Archer, otherwise he might go back to the trap house, the crazy house, or wherever he was hiding his genius from us. That cannot happen because I’ll be damned if we go through another year of a bunch of half-ass crooners giving us their best R. Kelly and/or Ace of Base impersonation.

So again, go hose your hot asses down until the coast is clear. Don’t blow it for me ’cause he doesn’t look like the man you used to wanna blow. Sometimes you gotta do baby steps on the hoe stroll.

Allow Me To Help You Understand

It should not be that difficult for people to understand why some are happy with Viola Davis’ most recent successes in acting, but not necessarily its source. Sadly, I tend to keep up with the habit of giving people the benefit of the doubt. I’m working on letting that virtue go. In the meantime, let me try to help explain sentiments that I assumed were as obvious as the color of Mary J. Blige’s roots.

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Do We Need The Walking Mattresses of Georgia?

Hello, hell. You look a lot harsher than I ever imagined. Don’t get me we wrong: While I think the trailer of this show will prove to be all the rage on You Tube and World Star Hip Hop, I seriously doubt any network will order it to series. Then again, strangers things have happened. As have worse shows. Regardless of whether or not it does make it to the telly, one thing is certain: Similar pilots like will be shot. I find that quite horrific. However, I can’t be too pious about the matter because it’s people like me that are responsible for it happening.

I watch The Real Housewives of Atlanta, The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, The Real Housewives of New York, Mob Wives, Basketball Wives, Basketball Wives: Los Angeles, and Love & Hip Hop. I have seen several episodes of The Real Housewives of New Jersey, The Real Housewives of D.C., The Real Housewives of Orange County, and The Bad Girls Club (which is awful). My Catholic guilt gene sometimes makes me feel sorry for things that I shouldn’t, but in this instance, I’m very much culpable. Even still, doesn’t The Mistresses of Atlanta sound trashier by comparison? Granted, mistress is a more appropriate title for many of the woman on the “wives” shows, but something about a show themed around infidelity hoe shit seems so…okay, fine, I’m not going to win this argument so I’ll move along.

From what I read, one of Drake’s ex-girlfriends is featured on The Walking Mattresses of Georgia. Just what the world needed: Another ex of Drake showing her ass on national television, potentially spurring more melodramatic lyrics from Droopy about the perils of fame. At this rate it won’t be long before The Real Cum Stains of Coke Rap is shot. After that, we can anticipate The Jezebels of Jig Music. Then once those two shows become huge successes, we’ll get the spin-off called The Jaws of Rap. No wait, it’ll be called Jocks & Jaws or Hoop Hoes. Whatever, this all makes me wonder whether I should retreat a bit on some of my viewing habits. I’m displeased that I even feel compelled to entertain such a question. I hate this new show already.

Now on a slightly unrelated matter, I’ve noticed quite a few criticism about the current direction of that Negro Telenovela now airing on BET. Many place blame at BET’s unpolished feet for the injection of various aspects of hood shit. Well, y’all need to quit it ’cause that’s not their fault. I have no reason to run to their defense, but those who make those allegations ought to look at their other original comedies and compare and contrast. If BET wanted to King Triton the crew at Sports Goes Soap to “color” up their show, they would have done the same to the other ones.

If anything, BET has become hypersensitive about past criticism and tries too hard to avoid doing anything that might cause the hair on the back of Jesse Jackson’s neck to stand. I hate it, because now I won’t ever find out why Rick Ross was smoking weed on camera (in this instance at least). I don’t give a damn if he’s getting high; just show a sad commercial of a crack head after with a stern warning. It’s probably more entertaining than a lot of these positively bad “positive” shows my remote control refuses to acknowledge.

I still don’t want to see On Call Asses of Atlanta, though. Nu uh. I have my limits. We all should.

But You Don’t Like Ladies

When I saw people tweeting about the latest episode of TV One’s Unsung, I tweeted, “Freddie Jackson is the ‘You Are My Lady’ dude who wore heels & was on that one episode of Family Matters, right?”  I was quickly informed that he was also on an episode of The Golden Girls. Come on, homie, we major.

Anyway, after watching his special in full I started to remember more about him. “Oh, he had that other song they still play on the auntie stations, ‘Jam Tonight.'” Then there’s that other tidbit I could recall: He was gay as hell.

A few days before the Freddie Jackson episode of Unsung aired, there was a story posted on Ebony.com teasing the segment — basically Freddie answering longstanding questions about who he chooses to do the dip ‘n pitts with. I’m thinking, “So he’s gonna admit the obvious? Good for him!” As you can see, that didn’t happen. All he did was a praise dance around his preference.

As a regular person, Freddie Jackson doesn’t owe anyone an explanation about Freddie Jackson. However, when it comes to selling fantasies – and the more I thought about his catalog, the more clear it became – he’s made money off selling a hetereosexual fantasy. He might not be selling it well considering he spent much of the 80s boppin’ around in sequens and flailing his wrist like it takes salsa lessons, but he’s selling it all the same. So it’s natural for people to wonder. Doesn’t mean he can’t continue to sell the fantasy as a performer/entertainer, but the curiosity is natural. But again, he doesn’t have to tell anyone anything. I just find it unfortunate that he chooses not to, especially so many years later after his peak (maybe he’s pining for a comeback…good luck, pimp).

Actually, that’s not it. What I find troublesome is the language in which he uses to deflect rumors about his sexuality. Namely “I’ve never had to explain myself to my mother” and “God will judge us for who we all and what it is that we do.” Homeboy is giving typical church queen open closet realness with each quote. It’s one thing to profess that your private life is just that, it’s another to state such with this sort of air that signifies that if you are indeed gay, you will be judged accordingly by the ultimate judge for your behavior like everyone else. That mindset is indicative of someone who may very well lead a gay life with those who know him personally yet still feels some sort of guilt about it because in their minds it’s wrong.

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Oh No, Olivia

As one of the seven people who purchased Olivia’s 2001 debut, Olivia, I feel comfortable talking about the knocked over ant-hill that is her music career. We often hear Olivia’s friends on both Love & Hip Hop and in this interview remind us that Olivia is beautiful and can sing, yet very little is said about how she kind of personifies why those qualities alone have never been enough; proving exactly why some of the tonally challenged vocalists of the world are able to usurp their more talented peers.

What’s my name?

To Olivia’s credit, she did try to dismiss talk of jealousy during her interview with The Breakfast Club, though she did up acknowledging that she occasionally thinks to herself: “You ain’t even half as good as me, what’s the problem?” It’s not like no one has tried to explain it to her.

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Yes, I Know She Meant Well But…

…in the future Charlize Theron ought to be quiet and let people finish their thoughts. If not for courtesy, at least to spare herself from annoying others. You can click here to check out my latest for Ebony.com. Gon’ head & click the link.

So I Love “Stupid Hoe”

Much like everything else that involves her, there’s a stark contrast in the responses to Nicki Minaj’s latest visual for the (buzz) single, “Stupid Hoe?” I’ve seen it panned as stupid, an insult to hip-hop and brain cells overall. Some have asked that we think of the children while others declare their desires to never think about the clip ever again. Then you have people aged 16-24, the people who keep Nicki’s Crayola box of wigs full, who majorly seem to adore it.

Based on the requests I’ve seen for me to cover this video, I believe some of you are under the unfortunate impression that I would share the grown folks’ disdain for the video. Uh, you all have read this site before, right? I mean, you may not follow me on the Twitter but if you’ve read The Cynical Ones then you know that I love me some Nicki Minaj. Yes, I’ll be fair in my criticism of her from time to time, but more times than not I’m for Young Nick. I think a better question is have most of you heard of Nicki Minaj before this video?

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Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better

I’m late on this, but Pope Benedict said gay marriage was one of several threats to the traditional family that will undermine “the future of humanity itself.” Yes, the former Hitler youth and pedophiliac priest protector who boasts about forceful-Christian conversion thinks me and Ryan Phillippe engaging in male on male miscegenation will doom you all to hell. Since I’ve given the clap back to Catholicism I know better than to pay this any mind. Unfortunately, the likes of him and other clergymen with a similar viewpoint continue to soil the thoughts of people both gay and straight alike when it comes to committed gay relationships and what they mean for the people not actually in them.

In my second piece for Ebony.com, I touch on the difficulties that come with trying to touch gay men who continue to view things through heteronormative lenses. Too much? Oh bother. Anyway, you can click here to read it. For the record, I’m still not completely interested in getting married, but not because I think it requires a vagina. I sure plan on continuing to relay this message as many times as humanly possible. I get divorced just as good as anyone else. Now here’s to planting seeds.

You’ve Got Me Feeling Emotions

…deeper than I’ve ever dreamed of. Trust me, it’s always okay to drop a Mariah Carey reference. Lamb game proper. Okay, on with the point of this post.

Ain’t it pretty? The new Ebony.com has launched and I’m happy to say something I penned is moving across their quite lovely homepage the day of its premiere. My first piece offers a point of view about reality television that isn’t disparaging or sanctimonious. Yes, that means you should still read it. C’mon nah. Anywho, it’s called “Reality TV: Male Stars Get Emotional.” You can click here to read it. Tell your mamas ’cause I’m about to email mine.

P.S. Congratulations and thank you to Jamilah, the scribe formally known as Sister Toldja.