Help Me: Lil’ Kim

Dear Michael,

Who the fuck want war?!

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Help Me: Chris Brown

Disclaimer: This post is intended to be satirical. Meaning, if your ass can’t take a joke, slide down the silly aisle and bypass this post.

Now if you can tell a joke, enjoy!

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Help Me: Karrine Steffans

Dear Michael,

People can be so simple. It’s what happens when you go through life without reading, without interacting with individuals outside of your socioeconomic status, without doing anything to personally evolve.

This leaves one stagnant, ignorant, and more inclined to fall in line with such trite stereotypes.

None of that will get you on Oprah.

By now I’m sure you’ve seen some of the unfortunate interviews I’ve conducted while promoting my third book, The Vixen Manual.

video platform

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Can you believe this? And here I thought it was just the niggas who behaved this rudely.

How dare they speak to me that way? I am a married mother of two. As I pointed out in that interview, my dating life in my 20s was normal. Who hasn’t had a fling or twenty with various entertainers and athletes? Every girl has her secrets.

I’ve come to the realization that most of the flack I get stems from jealousy. My haters won’t let me live.

Like her. Who is this and why is my name in her mouth? She says I wasn’t known for being a video vixen. Excuse her.

Take that, bitch.

Actually, let’s stop talking about her because I’m the only FAMOUS one in this conversation and since I am FAMOUS we should only be talking about me.

You’re lucky I’m even talking to you because I’m so FAMOUS.

Isn’t a shame I haven’t been allowed to promote my book properly with all of these distractions?

I’m on a mission to enrich the lives of young single women everywhere. So many lack role models, and through my book, The Vixen Manual, I’m helping them prepare for life as young adults. We all deserve to be courted, and my aim is to show women how to get in tune with their singular selves as they search for companionship.

Here’s a taste of the insight I share in my book, The Vixen Manual.

“Romantic companionship can be tremendously enriching, enhancing all areas of our lives, under the best circumstances. There’s something uniquely beautiful about Blockbuster nights under a fluffy duvet with someone special, our feet touching, our bodies entwined as we steal each other’s warmth. If only for a season, we all experience a very visceral need to couple, to be touched, and to at least feel loved. If it happens with enough repetition and mutuality, you may soon find that you’re no longer single. The trick, however, is to still be you. Even though you’ve found Mr. Wonderful, or just Mr. Seasonal, it’s important to remain singular and not get so lost in this wonderful (possibly seasonal) bliss that you disappear as an individual.”

No one was around to instill these valuable lessons to me as a child, and now I want to give back.

Yes, I know it’s quite thoughtful of me. That’s the type of person I am.

I’m always giving something to someone.

I just want to know when are people going to let that first book go?

Can I live? Are you people that unhappy to the point you have to project your negative feelings onto to me?

I’m gonna pray for ya’ll, because I’m good.

Remember: I’m FAMOUS.

You haters keep my name in your mouth and I’ll continue not knowing of any yours.

Ciao,

Mrs. McCrary

First off kudos to you and your jaw muscles for using tales of pursing your lips to various industry penises and taking it all the way to the New York Times best-seller list.

Some people would throw you shade for helping perpetuate negative stereotypes about video models and black women in general, but hey, you gotta eat – and not just rappers’ semen, I imagine.

Granted, when you pass yourself off as some literary great (is Karen Hunter still co-writing your books?) I have to stifle laughter, but hey, you’re on the best-seller list and I’m not (yet).

Bravo, cashew breath. Bravo!

Still, I can’t stand you and I wish the APA would come up with a name to describe whatever mental disorder you suffer from already.

If I were a wee bit slower, I’d buy this little speech you gave these students.

But the fact is you do care what we think. If we’re not talking about you, no one is buying your books; we’re not fooled.

As for you no longer doing the nonsense you did in your 20s.

What about this? And really, Bow Wow? Who are you supposed to be? The naughty babysitter?

Oh and there’s Lil’ Wayne.

Didn’t you write this:

“In the meantime, he’s like my best friend. He’s my John Lennon, I’m his Yoko Ono, and together, it just works.”

Yoko Ono? They should’ve never given you hoes cable.

Oh and we can’t forget you saying the relationship isn’t about sex, but then added that he called you to say “Prostitute Flange” is about you and how you listen to it every single day.

As if the song including the word prostitute in the title wasn’t bad enough, the lyrics include lines like, “Yo pussy is like a drug to me?”

Not a relationship based on sex, right? Uh huh. This is why people only believe you when you’re talking about gargling up half the line-up for the BET awards.

I love the fact that you trashed black media for asking “ignorant questions” yet you’ve been reduced as nothing more than an opportunistic whore by the mainstream media.

Not to mention your ex-boyfriend. How are you going to complain about the way black men and black press treat black women then go date a white man who buys into the same bullshit?

Don’t bother answering with your reverse psychology bullshit. I took Psych 101 in college, too.

Then there’s your husband. Or whatever he is to you.

Did you ever end up giving those ass beads back, or did you play a game of poke-a-hole with Shad?

One thing I never understood was if you’re head game is that tight of all the people to end up with you marry Eddie Winslow? I guess anyone who buys The Vixen Manuel now has a chance at bagging Calvin from 227.

Your delusions of grandeur and false senses of entitlement don’t bother me as much as you not owning up to who you really are does.

You suck, you slurp, and you write about it. When you were on your redemption tip, though I didn’t believe you, I at least appreciated the gimmick. Then you went off and went back to your antics literally a millisecond after appearing on The Oprah Winfrey Show.

I’m surprised Gayle hasn’t given you the clap back for lying to Oprah.

You like to position yourself as someone “above it all” yet you’re constantly knee deep in it. Or constantly on your knees. Take your pick.

That’s fine as it’s your business, but be real about it.

Don’t act offended when people bring up your past. It’s still your present. You’re still using your sexual relationships with male celebrities to boost your profile.

Try not to act all high and mighty when people reduce you to something you already have yourself to with your first book.

With “advice” like this:

“This isn’t to say that independence has no value. There’s worldbound influence, where you are able to hold your ground professionally just as much as a man. That’s fine when you’re on the phone handling business or brokering major deals. When your man walks through the door, however, there’s a softer more homebound independence that you can show. It means you know how to cook and clean, and you don’t need someone like his mother (or your mother) showing you how to do so. You can do laundry without turning his whites pink. He can relax in knowing his woman has mastered their domestic terrain. Just don’t look up and find yourself lonely because you were trying to be too worldbound and dominant at home.”

You’re nothing more than a little fortune cookie for patriarchy.

You might want to take her advice:

From one fake ass to another: Face the hoe in the mirror. She’s there…waiting on you to reveal the results of your last trip to the clinic.

And if I were you, I’d rather come with a new gimmick or revamp the old one. First week sales in the book world are no different than those in music. Sure, you can continue to score bragging rights, but you’re not moving books as much as you used to.

You could care less about what I have to say, but you ought to be concerned that the hoe tale market is growing stale.

I hope you’re investing your book earnings. I doubt a fraction of the residuals from Family Matters will be enough to cover your ass.

Help Me: Ciara

Hey, Mike.

It’s ya girl Ciara (pronounced Cee-erra). Now I know your whole thing is advice or whatever, but I’m sure you’ve noticed that I don’t really need any advice per se.

This time in my life I’m very happy. I’m going out more.


See? That’s me out. I’m sure you know who that is. Kim Kardashian and I are very good friends. Like total BFFs or whatever.

It’s good to meet with someone who totally helps get me more press understands me and supports me in my evolution as a woman and entertainer.

And she also knows what it’s like to deal with the negativity out there. You know, the kind of negativity people like you throw out on the internet.

Quite frankly, I find it pretty pathetic. What have I done to any of you?

Why sit there and nitpick and judge me online? Why sit at your computer staring at me trying to find something – anything – to bash me with? You know what? You must really like what I do for you to sit there and analysis it.

I look at it as you all have too much time on their hands.

Unfortunately, we live in a negative world so ya’ll have been successful in derailing my Fantasy Ride. It’s not right. I worked hard on that album!

I took my fans on fantasy ride through music. I gave so many shades of myself.

I really pushed myself as a woman, as a writer, as a producer, as a performer. I have grown so much. Unlike a lot of artists I didn’t rush my project. I wanted perfection, because I wanted to give fans my all.

I am in love with my music, it’s my lover, my friend, my everything. I gave my fans a first class ticket to music. Everyone else is giving them stand-by on Southwest.

But you all won’t let that be the narrative. You’d rather still crack jokes.


You know I’m not a man.


Whether or not I’ve bench pressed 50 Cent’s penis doesn’t matter.

What matters is that I’m an artist and should have my music heard.

So how can we get people like you to stop being negative and make that happen? My Fantasy Rise shouldn’t be treated like MARTA.

Like I said I don’t need your advice. I need you to quit hating.

HATER. HATER. HATER. HATER.

Now if you’ll excuse me, me, Kim, and LaLa are headed to the Ivy.

Kiss my swag,

CiCi

Dear Ciara,

Have you heard of the phrase “sucking at life?”


If so, how about you stop, pose for the frame and be the visual embodiment of the term?

Since I’m behind the post that got past around more than copies of Rihanna’s last album (you mad?), I caught the not-so-subtle digs at me and those with similar opinions in that interview with the writer who took the stan approach to interviewing.

Let’s share two fun facts for the day:

1. It took me 20 minutes to write that post. If you can write, and the subject matter is easy and the target is even easier I’m not wasting that much time or brain cells highlighting the obvious.

2. When people point out something bad, don’t think they’re secretly in love with it. That’s a delusional and narcissistic way of taking criticism. Trust me: I meant what I said when I wrote it.

There are times when you have “nothing to do.” Same for the rest of the world. Keep that slick talk in the jar.

I was actually a fan of yours. I bought Goodies. I found you refreshing.

Sure you looked a little familiar and was riding the crunk trend, but you keeping your legs closed for most of your debut. That separated you from the rest of the pack.


Then someone whispered in your ear that sex sells. You were encouraged to ‘step it up’ – not musically, not performance wise, but hormonally.


Then came the muscle butt shots.

The splits.

Your glorified audition for The Player’s Club 2: EBT Don’t Keep Me in Fendi.

It’s not that you can’t be sexual. I mean, I loves me a whorish pop star. But there’s something that you and other singers like you don’t seem to get.

When Janet and Madonna spread their legs from east to west, it seemed as if they owned their sexuality. It tied into their music and image and was something that seemed organic.

You, on the other hand, seem to be following a formula.

A formula that’s now taken you from potentially being the new Janet to likely turning into the heir to Mya’s shoulda, coulda, woulda throne.

I heard that it really bothers you that Rihanna’s become a superstar, hence why you fired all of your old team.

Just between the two of us, did you want to push her off the stage? Or were you too busy frowning at the woman from E! that kept mispronouncing your name.

Here’s the thing: You were doing everything you needed to do to be a star.

You were different because you were one of the few who actually danced.

Not just dip it, pop it, twirk it, stop it.

You actually had some level of extensive choreography. Now all you do is twist a little and spread ‘em wide eagle.


Even he’s dancing more than you now.

Sex gets attention, it doesn’t sell music, especially not in a recession.

Do you really think we care about you licking Justin Timberlake’s ear? Half of us ain’t felt him since he ran away in tears from Janet Jackson. You didn’t excite anyone but Jessica Biel.

Wanna know why Keri Hilson is doing well despite dancing like the slow on in dance class?

Her songs are catchy. The end.

She’s doing songs you should be doing. Were you late on your check the last time or something? Forget that diss and call her for a session.

A hair cut isn’t going to save you.

And as your ex-hairstylist put it:

“She has no identity. Still trying to find a look.

The pics of Ciara on the post for her twitter is my work, the beautiful makeup head shot was done a year ago in Atlanta, that other crap is Kiyah, wack . Please make a correction. We spent hours trying to find this child a look and she still bites and don’t listen to a list . She’s a year behind all of it . Crazy !, she would have been rocking it all before all if she listen ,now she looks like a knock off.”

You’re late!

You don’t want my advice, but if I were you I’d:

1. Fire whoever has you dressing like Rihanna’s drag queen of an older brother.
2. Burn that wig and the person who handed it to you.
3. Call Jazze Phae and Lil’ Jon so you three can make a comeback together.
4. Stop being late. If you hear a song that’s catchy and think, “Oooh this song will sound even better three years from now when I try something like it,” delete the mp3 asap.
5. Stop acting so damn pretentious. Your are known for the matrix, not fighting world hunger.

In five years you’ve gone from multi-platinum burgeoning solo star to fading solo act who’s one or two flops away from being a judge on So You Think You Can Dance. Speaking of dancing, get you a new jig while you’re at it.

I think you have a lot of potential, but figure out who you are yourself for your next project. Let your label figure out how to market your actual persona after the fact.

Get it together soon or:
…will be the only goodies you serve to the kids.

Dueces up, your chart position is DOWN!

Your welcome,

Michael

Help Me: Christina Milian

Dear Michael,

Heeeeeeeeeey, Mike.

It’s me. Christina Milian. OMG, so many things are happening. I’m sure you’ve heard by now, but just incase you haven’t I’ve made a new friend. I believe you know him.

Ahh! I know right. It’s crazy. I’m signed to his label, Radio Killa. I really think he can take me to the next level. We have such great chemistry together.

Of course everyone thinks we’re a couple now. It’s so silly. I have no idea why the thought would enter their minds. I guess when two people gel so well together people naturally assume that they’re together.

But I’m so excited to be working with him. He has been killing the game for a while now. Radio Killa! Heeeey! Sorry just felt like saying it again. I’m super excited about the future now.

Have I mentioned that people think we’re dating? And that we’re engaged. It’s so crazy how the blogs are suddenly paying attention to me non-stop about a silly little thing like that.

Is that what gets attention these days? It’s ridiculous. What about talent? What about heart?

Wait what about this picture? Do we look like a couple in it? I mean, not that it matters, because I totally don’t want people giving me attention for this. But let’s just play along and say that we are a couple, how do we look together? And what’s the contact info to Crunk + Disorderly, Bossip, Concrete Loop, and Media Take Out again? I’d love to get their opinions about it.

Oooh, and can you send me Necole Bitchie’s link, too? I mean, gotta get everyone’s opinion? Let’s see, who did I leave out?

After I send this pic and ask each blogger if we look like a couple, I’m totally going to set them straight and inform them that Christina Milian only wants to be known for one thing – my music.

Ugh. Did I mention yet how The-Dream and I hate this picture? The-Dream and I have so many other pictures together that look much better than this shot.

Like that one. The-Dream and I love this pic. We look great together in this picture – kind of like a couple, but really not because you know, I’m not ENGAGED TO THE-DREAM. THE-DREAM AND I ARE JUST FRIENDS.

We make music together. Music that is coming soon. That’s right Christina Milian brought to the world by The-Dream. Radio Killa! Hehehe. Sorry, just had to say it again.

Oh, yeah, I’m writing you for help, right? OK, let’s see, I really want to make it this time. They say the third time is the charm, and three is the square root of the number of chances I’ve been given to blow up so maybe things will finally pay off!

I mean, I’m working with The-Dream now!

That’s just a taste of what’s coming. OMG. Are you ready? Radio Killa!

Bye….gonna go work on material with The-Dream!

Christina Milian (friend of The-Dream)

Dear Christina,

I think you’re a cute girl who can dance her ass off, but musically, I think you should have retired years ago and tried to get a sitcom.

It’s not my place to tell someone to quit, so if you’re a glutton for punishment, by all means, keep on going. Maybe The-Dream can give you a couple of hits…on Billboard, that is.

But, if I’m being honest I believe your time to shine came and went several years ago.

This is when you should have blown up. Then you came with that Disney channel inspired single and Ashanti came and took your spot.

Then you had that chance when “Dip It Low” drop. That was a dope video. You truly are a great dancer. Yet, you blew that one, too.

Oh and when you were given another chance and offered “S.O.S.” you turned it down.

You see how that panned out.

And now you want to try again. Here is the world’s reaction to word of a new Christina Milian album.

It’s been eight years now. You’re kind of like the female Ray-J in that once in a blue moon you may score a hit song, but you’ll never have a hit album. Fortunately, albums are starting to become less and less relevant.

That could give you an opportunity to give people a reason to give a damn, but I doubt it. You may get another hit here and there, but those big solo star dreams evaporated when Ashanti cooed baby 89 times in a single song and dried out completely when Rihanna rolled around in Beyonce’s old tracks.

If you fail again, I’m sure you could find another producer to “befriend,” but is it the production value or is it that we just don’t care that much.

Who knows, but good luck with Teddy Graham.

Listening to a Beyonce album and thinking, “Thank God she’s not you!”

Michael

Help Me: Keri Hilson

Dear Michael,

I am so excited about my album dropping. I’m very proud of it. I can’t wait for the world to hear it. I’m a musical flower child and I’m so glad the world will finally get to learn that when they hear In A Perfect Worldin stores, thank you. Not an advanced copy or some bootleg zip file of tracks. The real thing! Like for real, for real.

I was beginning to think Polow and Tim were going to have to beg Jesus to jump on a track for the label to get a set release date, but finally I’m here!

There’s one problem, though.

I’m sure you’ve heard about it by now, but let me just reiterate: I was not talking about Beyonce or Ciara, or Keyshia Cole, or Rihanna. I was talking about my haters in general. But no one believes me! I don’t understand why.

Oh…that. What?! I was only explaining that they took me off the “Love In This Club” remix for Beyonce and that she doesn’t write her everything she touches. It’s not like I came out and said the bitch ain’t God. They asked a question, and I answered it.

“Check the credits hoe?” I mean, my name isn’t even there on “Love In This Club” remix so why would I be talking about Beyonce then, huh, huh, huh? Oh…the go have some babies thing.

You know, that could be about any singer with a uterus.

Alright, so I laughed at that a little bit when I saw it on the blogs, but I swear I wasn’t talking about Beyonce.


OK, so I laughed at that, too. But I’m not talking about her.

Or Ciara. See: These bloggers got my homeboy mad at me. I tried to explain to her that it wasn’t like that, but ya’ll have her thinking I’m dissing her.

It’s not like I made this:

I snickered a little bit, but hey, it’s funny!

I don’t want a stan war.

That’s just not good for business. And it doesn’t seem to be too safe either.

Who is he and why doesn’t he need a permit to go on YouTube?

I don’t need this pressure. How can I fix this before the record label changes its mind again?

Keri

P.S. Are you gonna buy my album?

Dear Keri,

You coming at Beyonce is like David vs. Goliath, Nicky vs. Paris, Tia vs. Tamera, or Janet vs. Rebe.

Oh, wait you weren’t talking about Beyonce or Ciara? Uh huh. Sure.

I aint tryna start no mess, it’s just something on my chest that I need to get off ‘Cause You turnin me off.

Your Vision cloudy if you think that you the best.
You can dance, she can sing but need to move it to the left.
She need to go have some babies, she need to go sit down, she fading… .

That could have been anyone. Monifah, Athena Cage, the really light skinned girl from Shades, the girl who clowned your dress back in 4th grade…who knows, right?

Stop. You’re a writer, but you’re writing for Britney Spears and Mary J. Blige, not Stevie Wonder. The lyrics aren’t that clever. We can figure it out.

You say you read the blogs so you know no one thought you were talking about Rihanna or Keyshia Cole. Everyone assumed it was Beyonce, Ciara, or both. Most figured Beyonce based on the fading and baby lines.

I saw that video before you took it down. You waited until the very last second to mention Beyonce’s name as if you forgot she wasn’t the main name thrown around.

You didn’t like being replaced on the “Love In This Club” remix and you wrote the verse Beyonce sang. She wasn’t credited for it and neither were you. The song itself flopped. Consider yourself lucky.

I’m sure it was Polow Da Attention Whore who told you this would be a great idea, but yeah, it wasn’t. I tend to think R&B beef is corny, but if you’re gonna Sisqo yourself, you might as well go all the way with it.

Which brings me to your second problem: You come out swinging and then you back down.

You did this for a few seconds of attention, and when you get it, you play coy. What was the point?

If you’re gonna come out talking noise but want to be vague enough to not answer for it, do yourself a favor and don’t say anything that will lead to people drawing conclusions.

Coming at people seemingly unprovoked calling them hoes isn’t going to do much good for an artist who took like 17 tries to get one hit.

Here’s what you should do:

1. File a restraining order against that dude in the YouTube video. He looks dangerous.

2. Stop listening to Polow.

3. Put your album on sale for like 7.99. It’s a recession.

4. Try and see if you can still get that opening spot on the Sasha Fierce tour. Yeah, we know you were trying to get put on.

5. Hope Ciara doesn’t have roid rage.

Good luck with that album.

Michael

P.S. This is Beyonce’s response:

Help Me: Aubrey

Hey, Michael!

So, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but Diddy decided that he wanted to take Danity Kane in another direction – Dawn’s. He wished me well – or told me to go to hell, I can’t remember – but whatever I’m not in the group anymore. I’m totally on my own now.

Of course, all the girls are still friends. You know, the kind where you don’t call, you don’t write, and you avoid whenever you see at parties unless they catch you leaving a stall in the bathroom. Like totally that.

Now that that chapter of my life is over, I’m trying to plan ahead, and I could really use some advice. Diddy told me my attitude would be my downfall, but what does he know? He’s been using my personality to make child support payments.

Then again, a lot of the blogs have been talking trash and I gotta get people to realize I’m the same girl they met a couple of years ago.

I’m tired of people calling me a hoe. Like what is that? Just because you see me with:


Him.


Or him.


Or this guy…hmm, what’s his name? I don’t know, boy #3.


Bachelor #4.


The boss.


And Donnie, but c’mon, Donnie? You know he wasn’t getting that.


She saw more of me than he ever did.

Anyway people even talk about my friends. What is that about?

I mean these are good girls I hang out with.


Kim is such a sweet girl. She just happens to have a sex tape. Oh and Jenna Jameson, I mean yeah she’s a porn star, but it’s commerce, not Chlamydia. She’s totally clean, and sweet. Why am I a hoe for just being friends with them? It’s not like I have a sex tape yet.

People can be so judgmental.


I got totally trashed for this. I mean this is art! Do you know how long it took them to paint on that tan? Geez.


And this is performance art! It’s so not fair. Why don’t people focus on the positive?


Like me doing Broadway. What, blogs can talk about me not wearing any panties or me and Kim doing sexy poses but they can’t talk about me on stage?

Really, I’m just a girl who wants to have fun, make some new friends, and sing. If I just so happen to end up with my own reality show then call it good luck, right?

See it’s the same Aubrey give or take 20 pounds. What can I do to get people to realize that?

Dear Aubrey,

That last picture is proof of two important life lessons: Water is your friend. Whatever you’ve been eating isn’t.

As far as getting people to believe you’re the same old Aubrey: If you want people to believe you’re the same Aubrey, you need to go dig her out of the closet you locked her in.

If that option isn’t available I encourage you to file domestic abuse charges against life, time, and vodka.


It’s obvious they all jumped your ass.

You’re right about Kim Kardashian. She does seem like a sweet girl. But, she gained pseudo-fame from her association with Paris Hilton. You can tell the world that you wouldn’t even touch a penis wrapped in a winning Powerball ticket if you’re not married and folks will automatically hoe you down by association.

I try not to be too stuck on the adage, “You are who you hang with it,” but in a lot of ways, it’s true. Is it true for you? I can’t say, but you rolling with a porn star and posing like you have a Kwik-E-Mart between your legs isn’t really helping your ‘I ain’t a hoe’ cause.

Now onto your career or what’s left of it. Look, you’re out of shape, Britney is back, so pop superstardom doesn’t seem to be in the cards for you. If the 70s coke whore look were in, you’d be on it. Too bad, so sad.

If I were you, I would take a bath, lose the Dolly Parton meets Courtney Love hairstyles, and try and book a reality show. You are extra as hell, but it made far better TV than Dawn and Que’s awkward love. That may have gotten you the boot, but hey, there are always other cameras.

Remember Dove Cares,

Michael

Help Me: Usher

Dear Michael,

It’s you boy, Usher (Ush-sha, Ush-aaah)!

Yeah, man!

I wanted to shock the world with my latest project, and show the world that I am a man now. This album is a journey that captures the moment in my life when I realized one very important thing: My mother is getting old, and I’ve got to find some other lady to nurse me.

Who’s gonna love me when I’m down, ya dig? Who’s gonna be there for me when my star fades (like that’ll ever happen, but let’s pretend)? Who’s gonna burp me?

And so I found Tameka…A BEAUTIFUL, STRONG BLACK WOMAN.

Look at her! Yeah, man!

And you would think people would be happy by the fact that I found a woman who would both take care of me and cut up my carrots! Not to mention help me make my future masterpieces: Usher V, Usher, VI, and Usher VII.

Yeah, man!

But instead of people being happy about that, people keep starting rumors. Talking about my wife changed all the locks at my house, my wife tried to put my mother in a home, my wife tried to have Chilli sent back to 1992.

No, man!

And I can’t even focus on my masterpiece (well, second masterpiece, you do know Confessions is the new Thriller – YEAH MAN!), because of all this shade.

I love her to death and I’m a strong Black man in America standing up for my people. I coulda been like any other man who has a child and live with that woman and continue to mess around and make another Confessions album. Instead I’m doing it the right way – for my wife, my son, and my family. This is how you’re supposed to do it. I’m giving the fellas knowledge.

Yeah, man!

Knowledge like my wife is not 40 years old.

Stop that!

So I’m tired of ya’ll talking about me and my wife. What do I have to do to convince people of our STRONG BLACK (super duper BLACK) LOVE?!

I’m so happy, man.

Happy. Happy. Happy.

Dear Usher,

First off, if you’re happy, that’s wonderful. Having said that…

That’s a sippy cup full of “shut the fuck up” juice. Take it to the head.

You try to portray yourself as so much more mature than you used to be, but so far you’ve been acting the same way only now you found someone willing to be legally bound to your bitch fits.

Whenever you drop an album, you typically irk me with your delusions of grandeur, but I normally dismiss it because I like your music enough to ignore it. But since your album sucks, here we are.

What does you marrying a woman 40 almost 40 have to do with standing up for Black people? Is your being married a gesture to Black folk? Why do some people demand praise endlessly for something they’re supposed to be doing anyway?

And if I’m not mistaken, you were cheating on Chilli with her while she was still legally married. Yeah, that’s how you do it, fellas. Wait, that’s probably not true at all, but that’s part of my point: You won’t shut up about this stuff, thus leaving it up for debate in the public.

I respect your right to defend your wife, but you bring your personal life into the public, so why do you act surprised when people comment on it? Better question: Why do you care?

Let me give you an example: You’re a Big Ben Vereen looking sum bitch. Now you could come at me, call me a fake ass Debarge or clown my teeth and toss a carrot at me. Or you could remind yourself that you’ve largely been considered a sex symbol, so who cares what I think about your looks. Especially when I like them. That makes sense, right? Why not apply that logic to criticism about you marrying your wife? You know she’s not a bugawolf so why care about what faceless strangers say?

You feeling compelled to reiterate again and again (and again) that you and Tameka are so happy makes you look insecure. Do you think Beyonce cares that some people are worried that her first born might come out looking like a KOOL cigarette ad, or that Jay pays any mind to talk that his daughter’s first word will be lacefront?

They haven’t even confirmed or denied whether or not they’re married. When it comes to answering questions about their relationship, they drop subtle hints then release a single together the second people stop looking at them. That works for them. Go find your own way, because this whining every other day shtick is not the business, pimpin’. Stop worrying about people comments on your happiness.

Rambling on about Tameka when you ought to be apologizing for that album. Here I Stand? Man, I should trip your ass.

Now go finish giving Tameka her pedicure. That pretty lady ain’t got all day.

Michael

Help Me: Hillary Clinton

Dear Michael,

I just don’t get it. I am Hillary Rodham Clinton. Just who do these people think they are to tell me that I am not going to be the Democratic nominee? I have amassed over 35 years of experience and in my 35 years of experience, I have never seen anyone with 35 years of experience be insulted this way. Just because someone loses a couple dozen states, runs their campaign finances into the ground, and has no foreseeable way of overtaking the lead of the other candidate – the candidate without 35 years of experience, I might add – does not mean they’ve lost. It just means they’re being tested. And really, you might as well call me scantron, because no one has been tested more than me.

Do people really expect me to drop out just because there’s no way I can be the nominee without pissing a couple million people off?

I’m Hillary Rodham Clinton, bitch.

Wait, wait: I don’t think they heard me.

I will be the nominee. Do you know what all I’ve put into this campaign? I’ve spent mine and Bill’s money. I’ve kissed babies. I’ve dodged fake sniper fire. I’ve pretended to like beer, hunting, and race cars.

I’ve even had to fight a coffee machine. What is with those things anyway? When I become president – and don’t you dare give me that look because I will be President – I’m banning those things. They’re sexist! If any woman tells you she can use it, she’s probably not a real woman. Just like the white people that have voted for Barack Obama aren’t real white people.

REAL American white people don’t live in Iowa, Colorado, Utah, Montana, Maine, North Dakota, Kansas, or Alaska. REAL, hardworking, blue collar, white Americans live in Pennsylvania, Ohio, and Michigan so long as Barack Obama’s name isn’t on any ballots during their time of residence. Duh. They will only vote for me. ME. ME. ME.

And do you want to know why?

Hahaha. Yeah, you know why. Two words: Jesse Jackson. That’s something I learned in my 35 years of experience.

Let’s get real: This is as close to the presidency as members of his constituency is ever going to get.

So really, isn’t it time we stop pretending to follow the rules – which my husband and people who now work on my campaign wrote anyway – and hand me the nomination that is rightfully mine, so I can start preparing my campaign against John McCain?

I’m sure a couple of states will be put off that I no longer consider them a part of the union because they didn’t vote for me, but we all have to be punished for our mistakes. Who still lives in Missouri and North Carolina anyway?

And yes, I realize a lot of African Americans will be angry that the first Black person with a “legitimate” chance at becoming President has to be told to accept my birthright and concede the race to me, but really, what will you all do? Not vote for a Democrat? Please.

If it helps, maybe I can get Bill to go on BET and do that little Superman dance Chelsea keeps telling me about. That should settle that.

Meanwhile, I’ll be on Univision with America Ferrara pandering to expanding my base.

I just want to say that I don’t hold any grudges. I understand the power of a great speech. But now is the time to get real and fall in line. I am the next President of the United States. Deal with it and perhaps I’ll let you keep your citizenship. Help me tell others to do the same.

After that, go to HillaryClinton.com and help me pay back myself.

I am Hillary Clinton and I approve of this message.

-

Dear Hillary,

You are lucky I don’t hit women or get shot by Secret Service, because I’ve been wanting to dropkick you for a couple of months now.

Oh that’s right, you’re a ‘fighter.’ Knuck if you buck, witch.

I used to like you, but now I’m considering donating to whoever runs against you when your Senate seat is up for reelection.

Yeah, I said it.

Let’s just face facts: You lost.

L.O.S.E.R.B.I.T.C.H.

Do you know what that mean? And before you even try to brand me a sexist, I’m a gender neutral bitch basher.

Your campaign is broke. No matter what happens in the next couple of contests, it’s not going to change the fact that there’s no way you can catch up with Obama in the delegate count and the popular vote. I avoid math like STDs and I still know that. Unless Reverend Wright drops a mixtape that offers some sort of diss track against white folk featuring Barack Obama, I don’t see the superdelegates taking the risks of handing you the nomination.

Accept it.

Your own people aren’t fooling with you anymore.

Supporters and opponents alike maneuvered to get face time, whether it was 73-year-old Rep. James L. Oberstar (D-Minn.) patiently waiting his turn or Rep. Alcee L. Hastings (D-Fla.), a Clinton supporter, giving Obama a big hug.

Rep. Yvette Clarke (D-N.Y.) had the man autograph today’s copy of the NY Daily News. (Cover: “It’s his Party.”) Reps. Charles B. Rangel (D-N.Y.), a Clinton backer, and Jesse Jackson Jr. (D-Ill.) gave him bear hugs on the floor, as well.

I know, I know. It hurts. I could call you Lawry’s right now, couldn’t I?

Even Republicans were star-struck. Rep. Illeana Ros-Lehtinen (R-Fla.) said she was escorting a group of elementary school students onto the House floor when Obama made his entrance.

Ros-Lehtinen said the children noticed the presidential hopeful and screamed, “It’s Barack Obama!” in unison. The congresswoman then led the students across the aisle and over to Obama, who chatted briefly with the three students.

“The kids were very excited,” said Ros-Lehtinen. “Like rock star excited.”

Speaking of kids, look what happens when children get around you:

Now look at them with Obama:

You are the mean old lady to kids, and you’re the crazy woman to us all.

And don’t be surprised if some of these “real Americans” you speak of turn on you. Indeed, there are some whites who will fall right into you and your husband’s race baiting antics, but not all. Some might even be offended at the suggestion that they will never vote for a Black man. But as a regular ole Scranton gal from Illinois, Arkansas, and New York (and who knows where else by June), one would assume you knew that.

If you had run a much more organized campaign, you would be the nominee. If you hadn’t been so divisive in your approach to campaigning, perhaps your negatives wouldn’t have reached all time highs and people would still tolerate you. But, because you decided to be yourself, you’ve reinforced every negative stereotype people had about you. And thank God for that. I knew you weren’t shit.

Look at you. Five dollars, Hill? You might as well hold your next fundraiser at the corner store.

You would think with “35 years of experience,” you would have learned to run a real presidential campaign. That’s what you get for underestimating Barack Obama and running an arrogant, incompetent, unorganized campaign.

It’s now time to go sit your silly ass down somewhere.

BYE!

Help Me: Ashanti

What’s poppin’, Mike, it’s your girl Ashanti. Hitting you up for a bit of advice…y’know.

Yo, I’m dropping my new album in June…or July…or September, hmm, Christmas ’09 at the latest. But MAN, the album is BANANAS. Like the kind Mighty Joe eats. It’s that crazy! YESSSSS!

But you know a lot of people are dogging me out. I feel like the underdog, know what I’m saying. It’s like people trying to act like they weren’t singing all those babies with me a couple of years ago. I know they remember, because those joints were BANANAS! Curious George at a banana buffet BANANSAS!

No, bananas in pajamas bananas!

HAHAHAHAHAHA!

So, it’s like I feel pressure, but in a good way, know what I’m saying? I’m nervous, but I’m excited at the same time.

I think that definitely since it’s been so long that people might be ready for me to come back. My last album was ’04, y’know. Wait, maybe you don’t, because not many of ya’ll copped it. What was up with that anyway? How ya’ll gonna just stop buying my rec-kerds like that?

Oh, I know: Be-yawn-say. That bitch. I mean, what was so hot about her anyway? She doesn’t even know what déjà vu means. At least when I say baby it makes sense. Like you can’t mess up baby, feel me?

I gotta admit, though. She kind of caught me by surprise. Wasn’t expecting to be just blown away like that. Maybe those rumors about her breath were right, because she like huffed around my position on the charts and blew me away. Who knew that gravy at Popeyes was that strong, right?

But aye, I finally figured out the brand of glue Beyonce’s using for the wigs. And I been taking dance lessons again. The game ‘bout to change, man. It’s murder! – or the Inc., or wait, I’m saying derrty now. Re-do: The game, man – it’s derrty! HA!

Anyway timing is everything, and it’s like, everything’s falling into place, know what I’m saying? Like I’m here and I’m back!

Have you heard my new single? Crazy, right? And yeah, Babyface is on the new album. When I found out we got him for the project, I was thinking, “Yo, the first part of his name is Baby, my favorite word is Baby, bam we got this!”

But man, the song isn’t doing as well as my previous ones, nah mean. I mean, it’s doing a lil’ something on the R&B charts, but I want it to POP, y’know.

I kinda feel like the underdog now. It’s been a four year gap beyond my control. It’s not like I decided to chill. It was taken away. Irv was trippin’, man. I mean, man can’t plan in advance for an FBI indictment? Now he not tawking to me, acting all funny. Whatever, little Black Vienna sausage man.

So this comeback, right. What do you suggest? I mean, I got Shia ready to bust Rihanna’s kneecaps, and Mom’s said she’s shanked a tranny before, so Ciara’s no problem, but that Beewildering Breath having chick better stay outta my way this time. I don’t want to have to do her in Glen Cove style, feel me!

So, man, I’m trying to put the puzzle back together, only dolo this time. I need your help man. I want to get those hits back out there. YES!

Oooh baby,

Ashanti

Dear Ashanti,

You know, when people actually hated you, I mean starting petitions about you and plotting to bomb Glen Cove, I didn’t really think you were that bad.

Don’t get me wrong, you did look like Harry and the Henderson’s was your kinfolk and what not, but after a fresh makeover, I thought you cleaned up pretty nice. I though all of those hairy comments about you were out of line. They had you looking like Smurfette after a couple of good waxes, and Smurfette was pretty for a blue blob, so tell the haters to take that!

Besides none of that had to do with what matters most: the music. So yeah, after I stopped debating on whether or not you were a disgruntled teen mother because you kept hollering baby in every song, I liked your music for what it was. Did I buy any of your albums? Hell nawl, but I thought about buying that second. I have a promo copy, if that counts for anything.

Your voice – well, that’s another, story, but let me put it this way: You’re sounding a lot better than Mariah Carey these days.

Still, I have to know: Why haven’t you had the slightest bit of vocal growth in five years? I watched that performance you had last week and you sounded like you were struggling something awful. Like your throat was trying to runaway from an abusive relationship. Stick to singing softly, okay? You can get by doing that. The minute you try to really sang, whew, you sound like a commercial for kicking a chick in the throat.

Now on to your career: Uhh…ooh baby. Look, the song is alright, but if we’re going by third time’s a charm and you’re still not blowing back up well…

To be kind, I think you might go gold (at best), and maybe you might put out a few R&B hits. But your previous mind-boggling fame from a few years ago — yeah, homie, those days are over. Might not be a bad idea to call Monica and Brandy and talk about a “We Ain’t Dead Tour.”

If that’s not enough for you to keep going, maybe you might want to work on getting a sitcom. That way you can step out of yourself and play someone that’s so unlike your true self – like a person a rhythm or something. You got a few decent chops. I saw you on Buffy!

If that doesn’t work, I don’t know what to tell you.

Have you saved your money from your royalty checks? If not, punch a hole in a condom and go make a trip to St. Louis. Best investment you’ll ever make in your life.

That’s the best I can do. You should have hit me up in 2005.

P.S. Before you fade into oblivion, I have to ask you a few things.

Did an ewok have to die for you to wear this shirt? I’ve always been curious.

And you didn’t really bang Irv Gotti, did you? I don’t know why, but the dude reminds me of a ham sandwich. Tell me you didn’t, Ashanti.