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:
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?
Good Luck With That, Cadillac Kimberly
We all have a right to our opinions, but that doesn’t necessarily mean we should encourage people to cling to such stupid ones. Especially if the opinions in question will more than likely stunt their growth. Enter Cadillac Kimberly, who I’ve noticed in the last two weeks is not particularly fond of gay people. She doesn’t specifically say so, though. No, she wraps it up in the bow of being a Christian woman that essentially hates the sin but loves the sinner.
Or some bullshit like that.
Though she is free to hold this point of view, as a southern black female comic looking to make inroads in the entertainment industry what are the chances of her getting far with tweets like this:
I’m pretty sure Tracy Morgan can answer. As can today’s Eddie Murphy, who has since apologized for his homophobic tirades back in the 1980s. You can chalk it up to hypersensitivity spurred by political correctness or people finally waking up, but there aren’t too many entertainment mediums left where you can blatantly compare gay people to drug abusers, murderers, or perverts.
It’s for good reason, too: The comparisons are ignorant as fuck. So you know I’m about to put this hypocritical country crock of shit she released onto the Web on full blast now, right?
Not The Marrying Kind
In my mind, I know exactly how it should go. After months of working out with an annoying, but highly effective trainer I find myself standing in front of the mirror freakishly observing myself in an obnoxiously expensive and impeccably tailored tuxedo. It fits perfectly. Yes, I’m being self-involved. So what if I am? I’m within my right given the occasion.
One too many looks soon prompts my friends to chorus in, “Please get over yourself. We need to start.” Reality checks, they never bounce. There inside some fancy room that I can now afford (Who shot ya, Citibank?) I cue the DJ and my march begins. Well, following a celebratory shot. My nerves are bad.
Beyoncé’s “Get Me Bodied” is blaring. I proceed to jig, get it big all the way down the aisle. Not long after the participants in the front down to the back proceed to stand up and join me and the other groom as we drop down low and sweep the flo’ with it.
Imagine me like this the second after I pick it back up:
If I can’t get Beyoncé there in person, she will be there in spirit. Got dammit. The reception will be catered by Mia X, who will do double duty with a performance of “Party Don’t Stop.” The other groom and I will fill in for Foxy Brown and Master P. I’m not sure if I want to be P or Fox Boogie yet. I mean, Foxy’s voice sounds deeper on the song and her part goes much harder than Percy’s.
The reception will call for non-stop dancing to 1990s era hip-hop and R&B and southern rap of every decade. And you know, I’ll be sure the DJ throws in some Teedra Moses and tracks like Beyoncé’s “Lay Up Under Me” for the folks in need of their emo moment.
This is how my wedding would go if it were to happen. I thought of all of this way back when during a conversation with a few friends obsessed with how their weddings will go (or maybe just obsessed with getting married period). We all have friends like this and given I don’t ever intend to play the role of spoiler and avoid such a scenario at all cost, I played along. It only took a few minutes to conceive. I’m a fool with it by nature.
Now, once the New York State Senate voted to allow gay marriages (but say “marriage equality” in group settings, it sounds better for the cause) a few people mumbled verbally or electronically to me that hey, maybe one day my wedding plans will really come to fruition!
The truth is, though, I don’t see that happening. While I surely will continue to donate money and use whatever status I have as a working writer to contribute to the advancement of marriage equality (see what I did there…better, right?), I don’t anticipate myself enjoying the fruits of such labor.
You Don’t Know If She’s A Hoe
I have a soft spot for Amber Rose. Not because of that one magical moment a year ago when I got to dance on the soft spot of hers that’s made her a household name (well, at your cousins and ‘em’s house). Clearly, that’s a case of the right pitch for the wrong player.
My affinity for Amber can be mainly attributed to the fact that she’s a rather nice girl. I didn’t need to meet her to know that. You can tell in her interviews and tweets. I do sometimes roll my eyes at some of her messages, but to her credit, I do that towards many people. Y’all remember “You’re As Deep As A Wad of Spit, Shut Up,” don’t you?
Her occasional make believe wisdom from a kitchen magnet moments aside, Amber seems cool. That’s why I wish she didn’t catch so much heat from folks. Much of it seems shortsighted. Take for instance criticism over her noting that there are young girls that look up to her.
What I say? Are we really feigning shock over the idea that a young girl would dare look up to Amber Rose as inspiration? If so let’s put things in perspective. Amber Rose is poor girl from the hood that’s fancy (huh) now because a famous man liked her. Y’all shocked she has admirers for that common tale?
If you really think about it, it’s not that different from those corny ass fairy tales, i.e. superficial, patriarchal, materialistic etc. Girls are sold the image of being “saved” at an early age and she’s but yet another instance of “the dream.”
Or as La puts it, “Isn’t this a Sex & The City episode?” You know, with much better production value. And lots of privilege.
Giving GaGa Another Go
I am beginning to have second thoughts about “Born This Way.”
That’s not to say I suddenly find it to be a great song. I still find it rather banal and shallow. And I still get the urge to suddenly go, “Don’t go for second best, baby! Put your love to the test!” while listening to it.
Not to mention in some ways, I worry that while it may inspire self-acceptance among some young gay people it may have the direct opposite effect on others. You know, given it’s a song about self-love yet perpetuates the sort of stereotypes that discourages gay people from achieving such a feat. Wait, does saying that make me a drag or a queen?
Nevertheless, despite the song’s shortcomings as the days go by I am increasingly warming up to the sentiment that it’s better than nothing at all.
Much of that has to do with the discussions I’ve had in recent days and the ones I’ve been privy to witness.
Sing To Me, Kim
If I’ve never said it on my site before, let me be perfectly clear: I kind of adore Kim Kardashian.
I often feel like that is the sort of declaration that ought to be prefaced with an apology given the circumstances. So, if it makes you feel any better for me to say it, let me say I’m sorry that I like her so much. Does that make it any better?
Probably not, because I’m not actually sorry about liking her.
No, she has no discernable talent. Yes, I realize that her claim to fame isn’t so much the sex tape fiasco as it is the news cycle having to generate “celebrities” just for the sake of feeding the monster that is our society’s obsession with all things “star.”
Kimberly slurps men up at a speed that would even draw shade from a hare-besting tortoise. So sexy as she may be to some, if her staying afloat depended on her sexual prowess she would die in two feet of water. That said, it has to be the face cause that pussy seems dull.
But that doesn’t matter, you guys! She’s pretty, she’s nice, and I don’t know, really pretty so long as she stops tweaking her damn face.
Her reality shows – as contrived yet still very much plot-less as they may be – are entertaining.
Kim Kardashian is the Beyoncé of the famous for nothing world, which means she can do anything, right?
I thought so until I read on TMZ that The-Dream has been filling this girl’s head thoughts that she, too, can take her non-talented ways to the music industry.
For Colored Boys Who Wonder Why Wasn’t A Woman Enuf
I want Tyler Perry to rise to the occasion. I want him to prove to people that he can be a filmmaker of nuance and depth. I’d like for him to prove naysayers – including folks like me who haven’t always been his biggest fan – that he can step it up when called upon to.
When I found out that Tyler Perry would be directing a film adaptation of For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide When the Rainbow Is Enuf, I didn’t start conceiving potential alibis ahead for fear that my rage might get the best of me.
Mind you, I haven’t read the play. I recently ordered it and will read shortly, but I did have enough backhand knowledge to know that the play does deal with race, gender, sex, abortion, and domestic violence all through poetry and very much from a feminist perspective.
Those are all certainly more complex themes than you’d find in many of Tyler Perry’s plays or films – which typically deal with black women solving all of their life’s problems after marrying the garbage man Jesus sent them via Heaven’s version of eHarmony.
Much Better, But I’d Still Like A Lil’ More, Please
In hindsight, maybe last year I was bit too harsh on Ciara. I don’t take anything I said back as I still believe the direction she chose to go in was ill advised and your lack of monetary support to her recent creative efforts proves it. But you know, maybe I could’ve been a wee bit nicer in how I articulated the fact that Ciara was heading down a road to irrelevant island.
I have to give the girl some credit, though, she’s really trying to do whatever it takes to regain her momentum.
