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I was not exactly impressed with Just Brittany’s “Left Cheek, Right Cheek.” As much as I’m inclined to support fellow Houstonians, the song and the video weren’t the move. However, my inner bird cockle, doodle, doos with glee to another track of hers called “Call Me 4 Dat Good.”


It’s a song calling for a healthy dialogue about sexual appetites. I find it rather profound, but of course, by my own cluck count, I would.

As a friend of mine put it on the Twitter, “‘call me 4 dat good’ is the best song i’ve ever heard.”

If you find that statement hyperbolic, your hips are some hater bitches. Thanks to his tweet, I now have this gem in my life. I’m grateful, but I have specifically asked my friends in Houston to keep me in tuned with the regional shit I’m missing out on.

So did they tell me about this over two-year old song? No. I’m disappointed, but I’m dancing anyway. That’s what’s most important. Still, don’t let that shit happen again, y’all. I won’t be as forgiving in the future.

If you don’t know who Just Brittany is, she’s a stripper (ex?) signed to Cash Money. She’s kind of like, “What if you combined Karlie Redd and Joseline’s wildest dreams?”

I’m not sure what Just Brittany is doing with herself these days, but if she makes at least 10 more songs exactly like this for an album or EP, I’m willing to at least spend $8 dollars to support her musical career. That’s better than just tweeting a link to her free mixtape on Datpiff.

I could only find the screwed and chopped version of the song to post here, so if you’re not a fan of the sound I hope you manage to still pick up some of the magic in this song. It makes me want to stop everything I’m doing and dance as if my rent depended on it.

In other words, experience sheer bliss.

I may not have any love for that ditty about your switching cheeks, Brittany, but I’ll always treasure for “Call Me 4 Dat Good.” Let’s be friends and shit.

As for the rest of you folks, if you know of some songs I am missing out of, send them to me. That’s what I am here for. Don’t be stingy with the goods now.

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After watching this interview, I owe Diamond an apology. Anyone who has seen me in the club drunk, or at least terrifically tipsy, knows that when Diamond’s verse on “Rock Yo Hips” comes on a feeling of great joy consumes me as I repeat everything she says line for line. Insert your clucks here. That said, my love for Ms. 32 Flavors shifted a bit after listening to Momma Dee and Lil’ Scrappy rip her reputation to shreds. I was wrong for allowing that smack sway me.

I am so, so sorry for letting their shade sink into the psyche, Diamond. Whether or not what that pimp and the other tity boi say about you is true is a moot point. You helped me rock my hips, then make it wiggle, wavin’, sippin’ in this bizzle when I needed to most. I am forever grateful to you.

I, too, now understand why Diamond didn’t bother with Love & Hip Hop: Alanah. Though the show has become one of my favorite things in life, Diamond is trying to be classy now so it wouldn’t be a good look for her. As classy as anyone who releases mixtapes under the “Bitch Musik” label can be anyway.

I was under the impression that Diamond simply didn’t want to get choke slammed by Momma Dee in the Kroger’s parking lot while the camera crew zoomed into her butt cheeks mid-cement back crack.

Diamond aims higher. She’s trying to be the kind of hood person who doesn’t just to go Pappadeaux’s on somebody’s birthday. Shouldn’t we support that?

I want it to work out for Diamond. Rap still needs more women and I happen to dig a lot of the solo songs she’s released in the last few years. Especially “Superbad,” that song she did with Cee-Lo, which I resent each of you for not supporting ’cause that shit was hot.

Don’t get too PC on me, though, lady. You are from Crime Mob, after all. Trina ran too far away from what made her special and you see where that got her.

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Ever wake up to get yourself a cold pop soda water and smell what you presume to be burnt ribs? Sweet Brown sure did, yes, Jesus. However, before she could grab her barbecue sauce (can’t trust everyone’s) and red Solo cup to walk over for a late nite plate she had to grab her house shoes and high tail it out of there before she caught on fire…Jesus.

Now, normally when I’d see a person like Sweet Brown on the damn news I’d turn away from the screen and pray that no one else watching noticed she was Black (as them putting her on TV seems at least partially rooted in racism). This time, though, I’m just gonna laugh Sweet Brown. Well, kind of anyway.

Hear me out. How many times have you found yourself with ailment and had to explain to your homeboy or girl, “Ain’t nobody got time for that?” I know exactly how she feels. Like, we gots work to do, Jesus. I feel you, Sweet Ashy Brown. I do.

AsI sit here working on three hours of “sleep” and trying to figure out how I’m going to get all of this work done so I can enjoy a birthday fish dinner in peace on Thursday, I feel a bit of a sniffle coming on. The damn weather keeps changing. My body is fighting, but it’s like a blue belt trying to take out Bruce Lee with roid rage. Still, I’m gon’ shake it off. As Sweet Brown says, “Ain’t nobody got time for that.” Damn sure don’t.

Yes, Jesus.

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I was more than ready to talk about the Lord’s toothless crooners, otherwise known as Miss Kitty and The Holy Angels. However, after reading more about them I’m afraid I can’t. Well, not completely anyway. Trifling or not, I’m a teensy bit sad over it all the same.

From the YouTube page of this future online video classic:

Before you make fun of this video please consider that Miss Kitty and the Holy Angels are part of a Homeless Ministry Mission at Friendship World Outreach. They, themselves, are homeless. They are on the same spiritual journey as many of us. Perhaps, singing isn’t their “gift”, but I have a feeling that God is enjoying every minute. Instead of putting them down, we should be lifting them up. We don’t all start at the same place in our walk.

Damn. Not only did Jesus take the wheel, he bust a U-Turn on my ass and sped off. I will say that anytime you have to start off with “before you make fun of this video,” you know good and well that you’re asking for it. I’ll refrain, though. It is Good Friday, after all.

I guess I can focus on the positive or something. Uh, how about we start off with their uniforms? So they’re like coordinated and shit; gold star for them. Yes, I heard John Witherspoon’s voice in my head while typing the word “coordinated.” I’ve got to entertain myself somehow.

Moving on, shout out to the two Holy Angels who led the Soul Train line to heaven. The man in red had a mean (and holy) bop while Miss Kitty (presumably) had a very nice two-step going for God. Oh, and her drop for Jesus: Praise the Lord and the mercy granted to thy limbs. For if not for the most high you most certainly would’ve stayed low on the ground.

Look at God, Miss Kitty. Look at God.

Speaking of Miss Kitty, here’s what one person posted on the message board I found this video on said about her:

She’s an ordained minister, but they won’t let her preach. My friend said they let her do it once, and it was awful. She started talking about Job, and then segued into Moses parting the Red Sea. She said, Miss Kitty was up there for 20 minutes telling them there were dolphins in the sea, turtles, sharks, eels. Everybody was just sitting there clapping and saying amen Miss Kitty. And, then she said, “Yall know what else was in that sea Moses parted.” She waited until everyone said,”What Miss Kitty?” She leaned in on the mic and replied,” Niggers was in that sea.” They haven’t let her preach since.

“Niggers was in that sea,” folks. I don’t know about y’all, but I wouldn’t mind getting a copy of one of Miss Kitty’s sermons. She sounds mighty entertaining as an orator if you ask me. I believe those church folks who feel otherwise are what Beyoncé and us Beyhive members now refer to as “wasps.”

That said, I’m going to cut myself off now as I feel as though I’m circling a wee bit too close to the first few sections of hell. To those of you who are still Christians, enjoy your Good Friday fish dinner and have a Happy Easter.

And remember: Niggers was in that sea.

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Oprah Winfrey has been quite candid about the mishaps her latest venture, the Oprah Winfrey Network, has endured since it’s admittedly premature launch last year. Speaking with Charlie Rose and longtime BFF Gayle King on CBS This Morning, Winfrey acknowledged not knowing as much as perhaps she should have before diving into the cable business. The former talk show deity added, “I didn’t think it was going to be easy, but…if I knew then what I know now, I might have made different choices. If I were writing a book about it, I could call the book 101 Mistakes.” She added: “It’s like, having the wedding when you know you’re not ready. And you’re walking down the aisle and you’re saying, ‘Oh, I don’t know if we should be walking down the aisle.’”

That said, the OWN CEO also noted, “Actually, I feel better about our network now today than I ever have.” That response was in reference to a question about the wave of negative press that has plagued OWN since it’s initial solid ratings at launch quickly plunged amid cries of bad programming or just programming that didn’t include enough of Oprah to keep viewers interested in the channel.

While it’s great to see Oprah more comfortable with her channel and its future, I’ve been wondering for a while now why is so many are so vehemently supportive of a narrative about the purported failure of OWN despite the network’s life thus far being as lengthy as the same amount of time Rihanna keeps a hairstyle?

Has OWN been a runaway success? Evidently not judging from the cancellation of select programming and stories of layoffs. Does the network have its own unique identity? No, but aren’t we forgetting how long it typically takes for a network to find that and the success to go with it?

Read more here.

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Do you all really think I hate everyone and everything?

Someone suggested such, but if you’re a long time reader you should know that is totally untrue. I like each of you for reading about all of the people who irritate me for whatever reason. And I like you even more if you agree with why I dislike whomever I’m talking about.

Kidding, well, not really, but I don’t mind if you post a discerning opinion on my site (hint, hint…some of you longtime readers).

Anyhow, just because I have something to say about someone in a given instance doesn’t mean I hate them at all. Granted, I am harsh in my criticism but that’s a reflection of my upbringing (cue the “woo, woo, woos”) not necessarily any particular contempt about a given celebrity, politician, or village idiot.

Now one legitimate criticism about me (hi, you) is that I never completely compliment the people I routinely jab at. When I have tried in the past I’ve noticed most people feel that it reads insincere. I can’t be mad at that because it often is.

So, I’ve decided to give myself a challenge: To offer some genuine level of praise to the ten most bashed people on this site.

That way no one can say all I do is clown these folks.

Some of them I like about as much as jock itch, others I don’t really have anything particular against. Ya’ll know I get at everyone – including myself – if I feel the urge to. Still, I’ve been mean to some people and THAT’S NOT NICE!

And on a blog called The Cynical Ones, shouldn’t kindness reign supreme?

OK, after you laugh at that question peep under the hood and watch me get my nice guy on:

(more…)

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While she may be a decent songwriter, Solange’s attitude has always irked the hell out of me. I’ll forever remember her stomping around Houston saying, “Do you know who I am?” at a time when Destiny’s Child was only a few years shy of being booed at No Limit concerts and still clamoring for mainstream popularity.

Delusions of grandeur aside, I think Solange deserves credit for making the effort to set herself a part from every other R&B video out there. She could have easily drove around the city, hit up a club, or walk around looking lost in a rented mansion in her video, but she instead opted for something more visually stimulating.

Initially, the song gave me strep throat when I first heard it. It sounded like the vocal arrangements were inspired by Harriet Winslow. But thanks to the video, I dig the song now.

I’m starting to think she’s about to make the album Beyonce wanted to make before “Work It Out” caught a brick. Solo still gets a bit carried away with her posturing “I’m an artist” shtick, but I’m a lot more curious about her project than I was before.

Someone do me one favor, though: Solange likes to put random words together and call it a song. Like “Wendy’s Absolut Disco Sun,” or “Wing Dinner With Fries” and “Corona Lime Love Fest.”

Can someone tell her to cut that freebasing shit out?

Good looking.

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You might have picked up on this, but I’m not the biggest Alicia Please fan. But today, there will be no screeching cat pictures, nor will there be any pictures of Queen Latifah as Cleo in this Alicia Keys post. I’m taking a break to give props when they’re due. I like her new video. I think it’s dope. I liked School Daze, and this video serves as a good tribute to the one of the best Spike Lee joints. I would like to add that while I don’t always like the final product, I appreciate that Alicia tries to be creative with her video treatments versus the typical look at my lacefront, look at my lacefront, watch me coochie pop, watch me coochie pop videos that dominate R&B and hip hop videos these days. Having said that kudos to Alicia and her side eye for thinking outside of the fan and wig glue factory.

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I believe I may have mentioned my thoughts on Rihanna once or twice on this blog. Something about her sounding like a goat; my desire to throw her on a boat back to Barbados; criticism of her often lackadaisical performances; her Lolita-esque sexually charged image. You know…the little things.

Over the past few months, though, my venom has subsided. I suppose I should admit that that for some entries, that move was forced. There was just something about her that irked the hell out of me, and I wasn’t very good of masking that.

As time passed on, though, I’ve acknowledged that I enjoyed her last album. But, I think it’s time that I get over myself and say it:

This chick is bad. I mean, just…fly. Stunning. Beautiful. Gorgeous. Cold. I’m this close to conceding that Rihanna is indeed that chick. Yes, that includes Beyonce. I love Beyonce (although not as freakishly stantastic as Kelly does) but I have to admit Beyonce hasn’t looked herself lately. She looks tired, or maybe I’m tired of seeing her so much. Either way, I wouldn’t be mad if I walked on the street and saw a random chick bust a black girl with piss-colored hair upside the head with her umbrella.

Don’t get me wrong, some of the same things that bothered me about Rihanna still do.

She bends over more than a gay prostitute…and between that and the whip and chain themes of her performances, I still find that to be a bit much for a 19-year-old.

But who cares. Look at her. She’s dope. She’ll grow into her S&M getup, I guess. You don’t have to like everything about an artist if you’re a fan. I’ve advised Beyonce to wear a muzzle, called the suburbanite out for her hood obsessions, bashed her choice to make videos themed after the mentally unstable, and so forth. So yeah, some things bother me about Rihanna, but not enough to contain my new found fandom for her.

Her voice doesn’t bother me as much as it used to (sans “Unfaithful,” which still swagger jacks Billy Goat Gruff), and I’m almost tempted to help her study for her citizenship exam should she wish to become an American. I get that most of her success can be attributed to her image, but hey, look at her! If you’re going to make everything about how you look, then you better be on point and make it work. She is. It does.

Bow down.

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My challenge – which I choose to accept – is to write a solely positive entry about one of the blog’s favorite targets: Rihanna.

Can I do it? I don’t know, I’ve been putting it off for a couple of weeks now. I am carefully watching each and every word I type just to make sure I don’t go off and write something like this or that.

A friend of mine is a Rihanna fan and swore that they would get me to like her. This entry is about as close to that goal as they will ever get.

Operation Love Bajan kicked off with a few of her songs being sent to me via IM. And by sending via IM, I mean, sending me a list and requiring me to purchase the tracks on iTunes. Of course.

Some of them were cool, others I won’t touch on as I’m striving for positivity. Ok, I’m lying. I liked all but one of them. I just didn’t want to admit that publicly.

This all occurred during the promotional build up for Rihanna’s third album, Good Girl Gone Bad.

I tried to hate “Umbrella,” but I eventually gave in. It’s a nice song. I really like yelling ‘ella-ella-ella, eh-eh-eh’ for no apparent reason. There, my first compliment.

Second compliment: I like her haircut. She looks a lot better with a shorter cut and with black hair. Moreover, her look this era has also been quite consistent. A lot more consistent than artists that I’m a fan of. Yes, that includes Beyonce. Love her, but last week I saw a picture of her looking like I Dream of Jeannie. Time for a break.

See that. I’m on a roll.


I even have a revelation to disclose: I like her album. There. I said it. Did I buy it? No. I almost did, though. Being stubborn and recalling what I said here, I slowly backed away from the disc at Target the day of its release. I should have went ahead and bought it. It’s a well produced album and a step in the right direction for her musically, should she chose to stick with this sound for future releases.

Have I mentioned an improvement in Rihanna’s on stage presence?

Wipe me down because I’m on.

I’m starting to run out of things to say, so I’m going to rely on one of my best qualities: shallowness.


Rihanna looks beautiful on this cover. It took me a minute to type that sentence, but I played “Say It” in my head, which made it a little easier.


She has great tattoos. Check me out. I am complimenting her from her head down to her feet. Is this not progress?

As for the main picture of this the entry, let me just say nouveau dominatrix wear is being slept on. And no, that is not a backhanded compliment. The leather looks…good…on…her.

I’ll admit, in the past I would threaten to call INS and request that her work visa be revoked, but I no longer feel that way. She can stay.

As for my friend, know that I really really tried with this entry. You know how I feel, yet look at what lengths I went to prove that I can change and be kind to her.

Say it.

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