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.

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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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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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.

They’re Shows, Not Saviors

Like anyone with working eyes, I have an appreciation for Michael Ealy. Oh and I think he can act, too. You know, if you’re into that sort of thing. Be that as it may, I have to disagree with the comments he made about reality television during his interview with “The Breakfast Club.” Seemingly not a fan of glorious programs like Love & Hip Hop, The Real Housewives of Atlanta, and Mob Wives, the “Murrlyn” born actor took issue with the content found in multiple reality shows.

Light Eye Surprise said: “I think it’s disturbing and I don’t think it’s contributing to the betterment of society in any way. People like to see train wrecks and it speaks volumes about society as a whole but I’m worried abut the children coming up thinking the way to resolve a problem is to grab somebody’s head and start fighting.”

Yes, think of the children. Those poor, poor children exposed to such vile things like neck rolls, sass, profanity and slap fights via the idiot box. Heavens to murgatroyd.

Look, Smooth Voice Supreme has a legitimate point about people liking train wrecks. I’m sure several of you vehicle-operating individuals have hurled expletives at drivers who slow down traffic in order to see whose windshield has been destroyed worse than Keri Hilson’s mentions on any given day. Still, the same can be said about action movies, mob films, and varying forms of literature. That’s the whole point of escapism and while some people’s way to might be less “positive” than others, it’s not at all that different in the end.

As for the babies, no disrespect to you, Handsome Man’s Hero, but people need to raise their kids. It’s a cliché though no bigger one than blaming a television show for the fall of humanity. I’m quite aware of the effects what we see, read, and twirk down to have on the masses. That’s why I find the star of any Tyler Perry production offering this kind of commentary especially comical. Charlamagne used a horrible example to make this point, but it is still a valid one at its core.

The majority of the themes espoused in Tyler Perry’s plays, films, and television shows can be best surmised with: Stop being a stuck up bitch, you ungodly educated heifer, get right with the Lord and marry that light skinned bus driver, part-time postal worker. To be fair, For Colored Girls was somewhat different given Tyler was appropriating someone else’s material. He still managed to find a way to bastardize it, though. Say, stripping the joy out of the original choreopoem, depicting AIDS in the most trivial way imaginable (abortion, too), and whatever Whoopi Goldberg’s character was doing.

I find that more damaging than a reality show. At this point most of the audience of a given reality series knows what they’re getting, and thus, don’t take the content all that seriously when watching. Meanwhile, Mr. Madea presents his material under the false pretense that he’s giving his flock important life lessons.

Now which do you find more concerning?

Lastly, with all due respect, Pretty Boy Rock, regardless of what you feel about reality shows let me remind you of one teensy weensy detail: A television show is designed to entertain, not save the world. And that’s perfectly okay. By Friendly Face’s logic, we should send Pat Sajack to his home planet because Wheel of Fortune isn’t bettering society.

Some people get a kick going on these sanctimonious rants about reality shows. I will not be made to feel guilty about enjoying watching Yandy get at Chrissy or Baloo get called out on her bullshit by World of Wigs. No, sir. Even though we disagree on this, I still think you’re pretty great, Tempting Thespian. Skype me.

Help Me Understand

Can someone break down the reason Bow Wow is still rapping in very small words? For the life of me, I can’t figure it out. I haven’t heard anyone sing along to any of his music in several years — including people who aren’t tall enough to ride the mightiest roller coasters. Last time I checked, Shad was able to at least book film roles and was even up for the lead in some sitcom Ice Cube was doing. So, yeah, I don’t get it. It’s been a long time since anyone bounced with him, bounced with him. Been almost as long as anyone has poorly sang about no one being like him. The seven people who did enjoy his collaborative works with Omarion have either grown up or are somewhere trapped inside of a closet looking for their choir robe.

That leaves…uh, I don’t know. Who’s left?  I don’t want to criticize Mr. Baby’s business acumen, but I’m curious as to what makes Bow Wow at the age of 125 in child star years a worthy signee? Who’s trying to hear Bow Wow spit hot fire  in this decade? Don’t get me wrong, he’s not a bad rapper or anything. That is, if he’s even writing his own lines — which is still an acceptable question to pose. Whatever the case, God could be ghostwriting for Bow Wow and I’m almost certain that no one would still donate a damn.

Yes, I see all 90 of his tattoos (which I imagine  hurts his chances at becoming a full-fledged actor)  and the fact that he spends a large share of the kiddie tour he’s earned over the years on strippers. The pound puppy is a big dog now. Unfortunately, it’s a dog that needs to put one area of his life to sleep. Besides, I don’t believe in child stars of his hook trying to be on that hood shit. Lindsay Lohan’s exhibited more instances of thug life than Shad Moss has (watch out, Kreayshawn).

So c’mon nah, y’all, break it down for me. Why is Bow Wow still rapping and who among you are interested in this? I need answers. Right this minute.

Analog Thoughts For A Digital Girl

The other day, I was sitting on some tiny people’s plane en route to Los Angeles. As I sat there eating a turkey sandwich and twirking in my seat to Rihanna’s spunky ode to oral sex (that’s “Cockiness (Love It)” to you) simultaneously, I thought about all of the tweets and blog entries I read prior to boarding where many were joking about Talk That Talk’s first week sales.

Now more than ever do I try to stay clear of discussions where people – mostly bloggers and like-minded self-important individuals – play the role of A&R executive. As in, “OMG! WHY CAN’T RIH-RIH SELL NO DAMN ALBUMS?!” Then they proceed to break down the first week sales of every major female pop star of the last three decades before engaging in a back and forth over whether or not Rihanna will end up broke and teaching sex ed to Beyoncé and Jay-Z’s baby by 2017. Or some bullshit like that.

Of course, these conversations feature various theories as to how Rihanna can “improve” to boot.

I have to admit that I used to be a little too invested in chart watching as if I were collecting a check out of it, too. One difference between the current wave and me, though, is that I always tried to keep my commentary within proper context. Numbskulls don’t fool with nuance, so while this post might fall on deaf ears, I’m going to try my best to talk about Rihanna and her album sales with some of you fake ass music critics (ideally without my head exploding).

Look, Rihanna never having a number one album is not exactly news. Nor is the notion of her inability to sell a million or so copies her first week out like say, a Lil’ Wayne. We get it, y’all, and don’t need that pointed out every other week Rihanna decides to release a new project. The stale point is used as some means of playing down her success, which really doesn’t make sense given what she’s accomplished in a really short amount of time.

In sum: It doesn’t matter that Rihanna’s never had a number one album. She doesn’t need it. Ever.

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Just So You Know…

You can find me in shorter form on Tumblr. Don’t give me that look, I’m just saying.

Please Stop

It seems that a few of you out there are impressed with this. Perhaps I remember 1996 a little bit too well, but I don’t find this verse all that worthwhile. I suppose it is better than anything Lil’ Kim has realized recently, but that’s like saying the diarrhea you got from the taco truck is a lot more enjoyable than the constant vomiting that resulted from you eating bad seafood. If anything, I think this clip is additional proof that Lil’ Kim ought to take advantage of the free trial offer at Ancestry.com so she can find out if her ghostwriter is kin to Baby.

I wonder if the artists from the ’90s that Kim came up with laugh at her expense when together. Or maybe they do some impromptu group prayer to the Devil or whoever runs “the Illuminati.” No, I don’t really believe in the Illuminati, but I’d now more inclined to believe that some dark, mystical force could take over the world via a Rihanna or Lady Gaga record before Lil’ Kim one ups Nicki Minaj on wax.

Not only does verse not supersede the one Nicki offered on “Y U Mad,” but she sounds confused. Like, are we still on that Lil’ Kim clone thing? Uh, Glenda The Good Witch, the Harajuku Girls, and Lady Gaga’s self-importance each have far more reasons to watch war on Nicki Minaj over accusations of cloning than you do — no matter what your eager zealots tell you, Kimberly. Oh, and Mark Zuckerberg “can get it, ooh he can get it?”

Really? This is what you’re into now? You must really miss Scott Storch’s peak net worth. And you probably rue the day you decided to sell a mixtape on PayPal, too, huh?

I hate to belabor the point, though this needs to be understood: Lil’ Kim lost. Nicki Minaj is pulling the kind of numbers Kim and Foxy pulled more than a decade ago when people actually bought albums. Lil’ Kim can get blog hits and be the talk of Twitter for a couple of hours, but that’s not the same as a hit single on the radio. Not like having an album out that people can actually buy. Definitely nothing close to what Kim used to do. That’s fine because she’s made her mark. However, if you’re going to act like you’re still at the top, do something. Something that doesn’t suck and attach itself to Nicki like a nipple ring.

Again:

Help Me: Lil’ Kim

And for you enabling Eminem lyrics personified:

If You Really Loved Lil’ Kim You Would Find Her A Chair

I just wanted to show that I’ve tried to help in my own special way. But, she’s not getting it. I’ve since realized that’s been a running theme for her for years now. The other day I was randomly looking at old Remy Ma interviews and stumbled along one Remy did about her beef with Kim (which Remy won lyrically, by the way).

The best part begins 1:53 in:

Notice Remy is essentially making the same points Nicki argued a year ago. Nicki is picking at Kim a bit, but Kim should respond with a record that doesn’t make you turn on “Queen Bitch” to remember the good times. The diss game isn’t her cup of tea anymore. If you don’t believe me turn on the “Big Momma Thang” remix where she went in on ‘Pac and Faith or “Came Back For You” where she verbally stomped Eve out. She doesn’t seem to have that sort of bite anymore. Stop reminding us of this, Kimberly. Go cut some record that might get me do so a twirk in salute instead. That would do more for the dried up river that is her rap career than releasing 19 additional half-ass diss records ever will. It’s great to respect your elders, but stop lying to their asses, stans.

Damn The Down Low

I don’t know if you’ve heard, but there are men – and yes, that means black men – who have sex with other men, only they don’t identify as gay. And so, they might be in denial. So deep in denial that they have girlfriends. Which I suppose means they lead double lives. We should give them a name to help spread the word.

Let’s shoot for something super duper catchy. Uh, dicks and dopes. No, that’s not any good.

Wait, I got this.

How about poking pretenders? Too vulgar? Probably so.

Wait, wait. I think I’ve got it now. We can call them down low brothers. Yeah, that’s it.

So let’s do humanity a favor. Let’s tell everyone that we know via TV, radio, the Web, and print that there are some black men who have sex with who other black men but might have girlfriends, which means they live on the down low.

Do y’all think y’all can do that for me?

Oh, no, silly me, that trend started damn near 20 years ago.

Well, if that is the case why are we still talking about “down low brothers” as if this is something new and interesting?

I don’t go out of my way to knock people’s hustles, but how much longer can we keep up this narrative about the scary black double dipper?

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