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Michelle Obama offered what may ultimately be considered the finest speech ever delivered by a First Lady last nite at the Democratic National Convention. Unfortunately, an alarming number of people appeared to miss much of what made it all so special because they were so engulfed in one of those “me, me, me” moments that blinded them from what was actually being said in favor of the recurring storyline playing in their heads. I joked about it yesterday on the Twitter, but heavens to Murgatroyd heterosexual Negroes of America, not everything is about you, your dating life, and your search for a Barack or Michelle to match your Michelle or Barack.

Speaking of that fantasy, if you watched Michelle’s speech yesterday and immediately though to revisit the same argument always brought up in some Black romantic comedy, you are nothing like Barack Hussein Obama or Michelle “Do you see these arms? Do you see this hair flowing? Get into this ensemble, dear!” Obama.

Not a single thing. Let’s make that clear. Like, the only thing you have in common with them is you, too, use soap and water to clean your body. Obviously, not the same brand, though.

I don’t have anything against breeders. My mother is a breeder, most of my friends are breeders, and the overall majority of you fine readers are breeders. However, there is something so strange to me about straight Black folks who never miss an opportunity to talk about why they’re single, what men and women do and don’t do, blah, blah, blah. This must be why the Washington Post and the New York Times along with Tyrese won’t leave y’all alone.

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Perhaps it’s just her on-air character I can’t stand. Or maybe she’s a lovely person when you meet her. Who am I kidding? The way she behaves on camera is very likely the way she is in “real life.” Suffice to say, I can’t stand Evelyn Lozada. She’s so mean and spiteful. I don’t find her to be that particularly entertaining — at least certainly not after the first season.

My favorite, Rich Juzwiak, wrote a piece on why she’s the reason to watch Basketball Wives. She certainly gives her all, but if anything, Evelyn is the reason why it’s becoming increasingly harder for me to continue watching this show. The previous season of Basketball Wives wasn’t all that great, but if the fourth season opener is any indication this season might not be something I want to indulge in week after week. Yeah, they’ll be fights on fights on fights, but these ladies seem like they’re gonna be trying far too hard on topping the outlandishness viewers saw on Love & Hip Hop. At the helm of this is the biggest shrew of the show.

Don’t get me wrong: I realize why she is the breakout star of the show. I understand that this genre of programming requires a villain, and again, she plays that role exceptionally well. Too well. Can she take a break? Why are you always pissed at somebody, Evilyn? Must you always be a bully? Don’t you ever get tired of being you? I suppose she’d respond to all of this with “hell motherfucking no, bitch” and/or “you a bum.” Or worse, she’s whine about “the haters” like most self-important folks who can’t stomach criticism. I blame y’all for encouraging her.

This includes many of my friends – and even select relatives – who all love themselves some Evelyn. I’ve heard varying reasons why — most of which center on her dressing nice and being funny. Meh.

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If you watch VH1’s Love & Hip Hop Rap & Relations, you saw Kimbella’s ass greet her old friend, the ground, once again following a track snatching themed brawl with one of her fellow reality personalities on the show. In Kim Vanderhee’s defense, she did precede that fall with a moving tribute to the fighting style (if you can call it that) of Evelyn Lozada. Her adversary this time was Erica Mena, another model who boasted of taking part in New York Fashion Week, hair care campaigns, and you know, other gigs that don’t involve ass cheeks and titty tantalizing. What’s that covering Kimbella’s light? Erica’s shade, of course.

While I’m not exactly Kimbella’s biggest fan given the way she opted to symbolically slap the taste out of Emily’s mouth with her sexual past (that includes Em’s baby daddy), this incident wasn’t her fault. She was being polite to that over eager beaver who came there with the sole intention of picking a fight with her as the cameras rolled. Then Emily had the nerve to call the laws after. To quote the great Pimp C, “You ain’t no pimp, you a fairy.”

If all of that weren’t bad enough, now this model turned aspiring singer is babbling to TMZ about how her appearance on The Real Housewives of Hip Hop has derailed her career. She told the site, “My whole image in my career is now affected by this. I wanted them to pull this clip because I don’t want to show this side of me.”

This is the same person who shook her breasts in the face of another woman during a business meeting. The same person who picked a fight and proceeded to threaten the woman on camera. See a pattern here? I bet the producers of this show did when the first interviewed her in casting. I imagine Erica was proud of her stunt up until she looked at her mentions on Twitter and realized more people prefer her showing her ass in a thong over showing it via a fight with Juelz Santana’s lady. Oh well. Her bad.

You would think she’d know how to act by now. According to my own mentions on Twitter, Erica used to work as an “employee” of Dash on Kourtney & Khloé Take Miami. And my friend Google filled me in on some of her modeling work:

Word to the wise, Erica: Telling Kimbella you’re on a higher level than her because you got to lay on your back for King while Kimbella tooted it up for Black Men is like someone munching on dark meat from Church’s Chicken telling me I’m not worth shit for ordering wings and shrimp fried rice from the hood carryout a few blocks up.

If your aim was to transition into singing you should’ve went on this show acting like the person Olivia refuses to be. You either let the producers gas you up or you should really retrace your K-12 education and figure out where your critical thinking went wrong. Whatever the issue is, it is your own. This show’s ratchet levels were just fine without you. If you want to go, please. In fact, your segment could’ve gone to Somaya Reece, who I noticed is complaining about much of her footage being left on the cutting room floor. I can’t blame her. I would want to have my story of crawling out of the attic chronicled, too. Wepa! Or you know, whatever “gon’ girl” means in Spanish.

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I don’t know a whole lot about Taylor Lautner. I tried watching one of those Twilight movies once, but I fell asleep about 20 minutes after it kicked off. I was full with the spirit of fried fish and bored out of my mind with the few moments of blandness I saw. You understand, right?

While I don’t know much about him as an actor, I am aware of his celebrity. I recall hearing something about Taylor’s diet and how it resulted in his 97 abs or something. If I remember correctly, though, it wasn’t legal to lust after him at the time so I went about my damn business. Since then I’ve seen him in a couple of interviews and realize that he’s been touted as the next Tom Cruise. I can see that albeit not for the reasons many would state on record. You know, allegedly or whatever.

Taylor has a rather, uh, jovial spirit and that tends to get some to wonder about where he chooses to hit his daddy stroke. Or be hit with the stroke, I suppose. That said, many didn’t seem to flinch when that fake People cover featuring him coming out of the closet spread across the Web. Even Russell Simmons fell for it, taking to Twitter to say he’s “proud of Taylor Lautner for his bravery and courage.” After someone alerted him to the truth, he quickly pulled his Rush Card to note: “Let Taylor Lautner be whoever he wants to be.”

That’s curious wording if I’ve ever seen it.

Be that as it may, folks need to stop being such assholes. I’m not a fan of outing people unless the person being outed is in a position of power to do gay people wrong. Say, the Republican dick enthusiasts dissected in the HBO documentary, Outrage. Or Bishop Play Daddy, Eddie Long. Those are people using their positions of power to hurt others while they suppress their natural urges. It’s not the same as actor playing a role on camera. Their jobs are to sell fantasies anyway, for the most part.

Does that mean I think Taylor is straight? I didn’t say all that, but I do think Taylor Daniel Lautner (I just hit Wikipedia, my goodness, what a wonderful full name he has) needs a break. He is 19. I believe I was still trying to force myself to masturbate to the images of women with the same level of interests as I did men back then. Shut up: the oversharing is in proper context. Curious wording or not, Russell is on to something: Let Taylor be who wants to be, especially in his own time.

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Now, should Taylor know who he is already and would prefer not to divulge such facts at present moment he is more than welcome to contact me. I don’t mind signing a nondisclosure agreement. And he’s a burgeoning producer, optioning non fiction works for film projects. We are perfect for each other. I’m a little concerned that he was born in 1992, however considering all of the above plus that face, I have two words for him: Hey, boy.

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I don’t know much about cocaine. I’ve never seen it despite growing up around unlicensed pharmacists who sold it. I’m almost certain that I am one of maybe seven gay men who have never been offered the drug in the bathroom of a club. Suffice to say I know very little about the relations between fiend and pusher. Maybe I’m thinking too much of people who turn to the selling of illegal substances to make a living, but I expected coke retailers to exercise more restraint than this. You know, since disclosure agreements don’t seem like a realistic option in these sort of instances.

We already know Nippy can sniff all the way back to Spring 1987. Do we really need to know the specifics about what she used to do with her nostrils? I wish I had Dionne Warwick’s email address so I could send this to her and watch her call her goons to handle this failed drug dealer. If you watched Celebrity Apprentice earlier this year you know Dionne is an old school goonnette. I swear, I’d pay good money to see her and Cissy Houston slap the snitch out of this sum’bitch.

Y’all leave Whitney Houston the hell alone. Better yet, y’all leave Whitney Houston fans alone. We’re already traumatized that Whitney went from sounding like an angel to an angel’s colon after food poisoning. It’s simply cruel to be so graphic about how this came to pass.

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Even though the show was obviously secured through her celebrity, Toni Braxton has very little to do with why I watch Braxton Family Values. Don’t get me wrong. I love me some Toni Braxton and will continue to sing off key to “How Many Ways,” “Love Shoulda Brought You Home,” and “Always” whenever the spirit calls. But as a reality personality Toni is kind of dry. She’s gotten better, though I think the root of the issue has to do with her feigning shyness on camera. As you can tell from this clip, that quality isn’t limited to just her reality show.

Bless her heart for pretending like her inner slut is some imaginary friend who suffered a tragic fate not unlike a victim on Law & Order: SVU, but I’ve seen Toni Braxton’s tits and ass on multiple occasions for at least a decade now. In fact, her fixation with cooing and coochie popping has a lot to do with why her music has suffered over the years. Who exactly is she fooling? Never mind, there’s a bigger problem found in her interview with Chelsea Handler.

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Hear ye, hear ye: I hereby decree all doubters cease and desist efforts to draft Drake into the gay community. It is a waste of time because that Canadian is into coochie. No matter how persistent you are in arguing otherwise, it won’t change the fact that the man is into women exclusively. Case in point, this video being cited as “evidence” that Aubrey is into male ass play.

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I’ve always assumed that Bert and Ernie were fucking. I never had a strong reaction to it one way or the other, though. It was sort of like one of those unchallenged truths in which you know something to be true, but you don’t put any real thought into it. The sky is blue, Louisiana hot sauce rules over all, and Bert and Ernie were boyfriends.

I see a lot of people thought the same, which is why they pushed the producers of Sesame Street to marry them off now that it’s legal in the state of New York. I understand that equality must be had for all, but give me a break. What does it matter if two puppets of the same imaginary species get hitched? Would that show kids that being gay is normal? Sure, it could help, but the same can be said of merely telling your children that.

Like any people in a relationship that they’re comfortable with, the last thing they need is a bunch of nosy people telling them to change their dynamic for their own selfish reasons. So: Get off their nonexistent dicks, folks. Bert and Ernie enjoy their current life as is.

Oh, and apparently, they’re not gay at all.

Sesame Street’s Facebook goon broke it down:

Bert and Ernie are best friends.  They were created to teach preschoolers that people can be good friends with those who are very different from themselves.

Even though they are identified as male characters and possess many human traits and characteristics (as most Sesame Street Muppets™ do), they remain puppets, and do not have a sexual orientation.

Do I believe this? Hell no. I mean, maybe men can live together, have story time and occasionally cuddle and it be totally platonic. However, they sure do have the closeness many people long for. Still, people need to mind their business and more importantly, know when and where to push their agendas.

Besides, any gay person knows that some people will never come out. Especially not fictitious characters in the form of cartoons and puppets. For example, my home boy Snagglepuss, who I recently referred to on Twitter as my one and only favorite queen.

Now obviously, Snagglepuss is a little effeminate, seemingly not into kitties, and gay even! Yet, he lets you make whatever projections about his lisp that you want to because he’s too busy trying to live his life. He’s not worried if anyone can tell he can toot it and boot it better than most.

The same can be said about Pepé Le Pew probably being bisexual, Dale from the Rescue Rangers being trade, or Fred Flintstone’s boss being a secret bear. I’m not about outing people unless they’re in positions of hurting gay people — i.e. Republicans, influential preachers, and other stupid high profile figures. Otherwise, one needs to know when to hold ‘em and know when to fold ‘em. And in the case of two puppets getting symbolically married, it screams a big waste of time.

Oh, and by the way Sesame Street protesters, you should’ve contacted Big Bird. Much easier sell on gay marriage. Duh.

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I would’ve jumped on this sooner, but I was trying to see if I could collect a check for checking him first. My efforts proved to be in vain. I can’t say that I’m surprised  considering it’s not 2002 and I don’t write for Word Up! magazine. I’d still like to touch on this albeit briefly. I know many lesbians and more importantly, I get how annoying it is for them to have to deal with men constantly trying to tell them that their love of vagina isn’t genuine. You know, because they’ve yet to formally greet their magical genetic changing penis.

Speaking of those, Omarion is a dick for this tweet. I saw a few people in my timeline try to defend his ignorance as him merely “voicing his opinion.” I encourage those suffering from Captain Obvious disorder to do humanity a favor and go find their very own S.S. Minnow and tropical storm. Of course the tweet in question is an instance of Omarion expressing his opinions. That doesn’t negate the fallacy of the opinion or the narcissistic-rooted logic behind it. If you need a treasure map drawn for you to figure out why some would take offense to what he said, God bless you and the ability to think analytically that was evidently stolen from you.

Then again, I imagine certain thinking caps would be tightened had the little musing of O’s had something to do with them personally. Whatever, even if it were “just his opinion” that pretty much paves the way for others to share theirs in response. To that end, I need someone to let this little munchkin know that he surely doesn’t do it for everyone.

I mean, he does for me…or at least one magical area of him does anyway. I may have mentioned it once, twice, way too many times on the site. I know, I know. However, I also understand that isn’t exactly the kind of attribute that would send a lesbian reeling. Neither would his ability to penetrate her. See, breeders, not every girl is into that. Why? Because she’s a damn lesbian.

Sexuality is indeed not black and white for all, but some ex-boy bander turned – uh, fashionista – needs to calm down on claims that he literally has the magic stick. One, ’cause again, what he’s saying is absolutely simple. Two, gay people have a lot to do with whatever nominal level of relevance he still has. Sure, it’s mainly gay dudes but some of that fanfare trickles over to their sympathetic lesbian friends. You would think an artist – especially one a fledgling one – would understand that he needn’t alienate any particular group.

But I suppose when the person is he quoting Jehovah one minute and his overinflated ego the next he is bound to forget the fact that even if his ass is his greatest attest he needn’t give airs that his ass literally does the tweeting for him. Then he had the nerve to ask people to respect his disrespectful opinion. I respect an individual’s freedom to blurt out the asinine, but I don’t have to be nice to you about it if you’re being offensive.

I don’t know if his publicist ran away from home or left him behind when his last record deal retreated, but Omarion did get one thing correct: He most certainly is an example — of why some thoughts need to be placed in a private journal versus a public forum.

I’m sure he’s a nice guy, but even nice people mess up sometimes. So, please, O, offer lesbians the only kind of solid you can give to satisfy them and shut your fashionably late ass up. Oh and God Bless You and stuff.

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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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