So I Love “Stupid Hoe”

Much like everything else that involves her, there’s a stark contrast in the responses to Nicki Minaj’s latest visual for the (buzz) single, “Stupid Hoe?” I’ve seen it panned as stupid, an insult to hip-hop and brain cells overall. Some have asked that we think of the children while others declare their desires to never think about the clip ever again. Then you have people aged 16-24, the people who keep Nicki’s Crayola box of wigs full, who majorly seem to adore it.

Based on the requests I’ve seen for me to cover this video, I believe some of you are under the unfortunate impression that I would share the grown folks’ disdain for the video. Uh, you all have read this site before, right? I mean, you may not follow me on the Twitter but if you’ve read The Cynical Ones then you know that I love me some Nicki Minaj. Yes, I’ll be fair in my criticism of her from time to time, but more times than not I’m for Young Nick. I think a better question is have most of you heard of Nicki Minaj before this video?

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The Pains of Quasi-Fame

Immediately into Amber Rose’s single, “Fame,” I wanted to tap out. You just knew it was going to be a cheesy and schmaltzy pop ditty the second you heard the voice of the “nerd” saying he was from No Hair, Don’t Care magazine. I decided to push through because I like Amber Rose. The end result of that decision is me developing a greater appreciation for the musical stylings of Paris Hilton. Now someone must pay.

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Resolutions For You, Me & Them

If I had to surmise my thoughts about 2011 in three words, I’d go with the following: Good riddance, bitch. The year wasn’t a total wash, but I’m ready to move on all the same. But before I do it’s only right that I deliver the second edition of “Resolutions For You, Me & Them.” My first resolution is to actually keep up with this post each year versus every other, but that’s neither here or there.

As you know, there are some who like to remind the rest of us that they don’t bother with resolutions at the start of the New Year. Good for them. Email those fine folks a coupon for a cookie before you pass them the link to this post.

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You Are Da One I’ve Seen Before

Intoxicate the videos for “Umbrella” and “Rude Boy,” send them into a seedy club bathroom for a quickie, and bam, you have the visual for Rihanna’s “You Da One.” It’s not that I don’t like the video, only it’s not as memorable as the one who preceded it. That’s a let down after you realize the Los Angeles Times was right to highlight how important Rihanna has become as a visual artist. Then comes this rehash of vanity shots coupled with crotch grabs and ass shots. Two months ago I noted how well Rih-Rih’s gotten by with her flair for public masturbation and this clip all but further confirms that sentiment. That’s fantastic for people who want to fornicate with Rihanna. Hell, I could see Drake wiping tears from his white wine glass after viewing this for the nineteenth time.

Still, we’ve all seen better from her. Hopefully, future videos for “Watch ‘n Learn” and “Cockiness (Love It)” build on the promise of “We Found Love.” Oh and there has to be a video for “Birthday Cake.” I don’t care if the song is only four seconds love. It is the greatest four seconds imaginable. It’s imperative that Rihanna toots that thang and make it roll on camera. Just don’t get accused of plagiarism after. She and big sister Beyoncé gotta watch who they employ and who they draw “inspiration” from.

Tip Taught Me

For someone who initially pegged reality television as a bit of a nuisance to his family life two prison sentences ago, it was surprising to learn that T.I. chose to partner with VH1 and allow the network to chronicle all things most private to him. Now that I’ve seen the first two episodes of T.I. and Tiny: A The Family Hustle, I’m even more shocked that not only did he decide to finally hop on the trend, he’s better at being a reality personality than most — including his wife, the ex-Xscape singer turned Tiny & Toya star.

Tiny is the sweetest thing ever. Like in my mind she is from the hood part of the Lolipop Guild section of Oz. That’s great and all for her character, but not much in the way of a television show. She seems more at ease now and perhaps that’s simply because she’s happy her honey is home. Whatever it is, she ought to stay this way when on camera. I didn’t really have any expectations about their show, but I’m glad I gave it a chance because it’s highly entertaining. And I’ve already learned a few things about T.I., Tiny, and their family since watching.

Yes, I said I learned some things. I didn’t necessarily say they were all good things or anything of note, only that I learned some stuff. Shall we?

T.I. was reading in jail.

You know when someone starts reading and learns a bunch of new words that they can’t wait to share with their friends? That’s totally T.I. on this show. Fortunately, he’s held on to phrases like “light skinted” so that his fans from way back have something to hold on to. Oh, and he still talks like he’ll eat leftover turkey necks for breakfast. No shade, I got a leftover turkey leg in the fridge myself.

We live in the devil’s world.

That’s according to one of Tiny’s homegirls, anyway. Somewhere God is going, “Bitch, please.”

They really want us to forget that T.I. was born some named some dude named Clifford.

I heard Tiny say I married “Mister Tip.” And anyone’s that’s seen any of T.I.’s thespian roles know that he’s credited as Tip “T.I.” Harris. I guess if I were named Clifford I’d be reluctant to remind anyone of my legal name, too. My dad doesn’t go by his first name either. He opts for “Doc” or “Crazy Joe.” Well, I think other people call him the letter, but you get it.

The most law abiding citizen of America (his phrasing, not mine) T.I. knows is a dude named Snake. 

That explains so much.

Tiny and her folk pray over liquor.

And T.I.’s ass is hilarious as hell for pointing that out. When I finally find a bottle of Peach Ciroc, I totally might do the same thing. Or you know, not.

T.I. takes his king label very seriously.

His home is his kingdom, Tiny is his queen, and T.I. rules over all. Somewhere King Ralph is saying, “Man, why so serious?” Or am I acting like a hating ass peasant towards your highness?

Tiny has an alter ego.

Called Ryder Harris. I seriously want you Negroes to stop pretending to have dissociative identity disorder. If you don’t have the prescription you need to quit posing.

T.I. and Tiny are frisky as hell.

No wonder they had those pills on them when T.I. got arrested on Sunset Blvd. So long as they’re not violating the terms of his probation, I kind of love how they’re all over each other. I notice some people continue to question why he’s with her, but that’s the Old Bay in their souls speaking. You can tell that they really love each other. Isn’t that and the fact that he can’t keep his hands off her ass all that matters?

Now I sometimes do get eat the cake vibes from Mr. Harris, but I’m guessing he’s just assertive. Tiny seems to like it.

T.I.’s teeth are a work of art.

I bet the people who bought drugs from Tip are mad as hell, too. Seriously, who wants to order me a pair for the holidays?

T.I. likes ranch and fruit together.

I find that nasty as hell.

There is a game called booty tag.

…and I totally have a list of names of folks I’d like to play that game with.

Can you tell how much I love this show? Between this and Braxton Family Values, the black family-centered reality shows are much more entertaining than these black sitcoms floating around.

Turn The Other Cheek

Does anyone remember any of those sketches from the last two decades that mocked the hell out of hip hop? You know, the ones satirizing the videos featured on outlets like BET’s now cancelled case study on blue balls, gross sexual imagery and the late nite TV viewer known as Uncut. Well, it’s becoming a lot harder to tell the difference between the punch line and the real thing. Case in point.

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You Sent It (Ugh): He Likes Boys

Look everyone: The recording industry dipped Katy Perry in Hershey’s kisses and created yet another banal pop song knee deep in stereotypes guised as some sort of cutesy anthem. Can you feel my excitement seeping through this post? I can barely prevent myself from spinning around and flying into the sky and dry humping a fucking rainbow in a state of euphoria.

I don’t know Simone Battles because I don’t watch The X-Factor, but I know enough to complain. I can’t tell whether or not she can even sing since her voice has been computerized enough to make even Britney Spears wonder, “Damn, girl. Where you even there when the recorded this song?” I’ll let you actual viewers fill me in about her vocal ability later.

I do imagine Simone is probably a wonderful person. I mean, she has to be because super attractive men want to recreate scenes from Clueless with her while watching Desperate Housewives. I don’t even have that yet (although I’d prefer staring at Victor Rasuk on HBO and marveling at Julianna Margulies on CBS every Sunday). This guy even wants to do fun seemingly romantic (to her) things to like go shopping, get manicures, and talk about Lady Gaga’s Born This Way. You know, that album with the title track aggressively and transparently telling ab-happy homosexuals “don’t be a drag, just be a queen.”

But alas, as you can unfortunately see and hear love wasn’t meant to be. Fret not, though, because now Simone has a new gay best friend. What a special, special song. Almost like a sequel to My Gay Pet “Gay Best Friend.”

My official verdict on this song is if bulimics need target practice, direct them to a physical copy of this single. Okay, that was a little mean. Let me make amends. I promise to put five dollars towards her Match account or buying a clue if she drops this song into the abyss.

We Found Drug-Induced Euphoria and Called It Love

My initial reaction to Rihanna’s latest tribute to Europop, “We Found Love,” seemed to be a lot different than everyone else’s. It’s not that I feel that it isn’t a good video. Rihanna’s videos are always appeasing to the eyes whether they’re glorified extended cosmetic ads or something like this, which shows Rih-Rih pushing herself far more creatively than in previous videos that I can recall. As a whole “We Found Love” is very well done. Still, I am a bit irritated by it.

What spawned those feelings was the initial sight of pills flying all over the screen. Worse were the shots of her and what looks like Chris Brown as a gay man (or a better looking Arnez from One on One) freebasing on camera. Yes, I get it. The song has about 13 lyrics and seven of them are “we found love in a hopeless place.” Obviously, that hopeless place wasn’t a TGI Friday’s. So don’t worry, I understand the point of the video highlighting volatile relationships, how destructive they can be, and how co-dependency can often be misconstrued for love or soil love or whatever had her looking crazy as hell in the video.

My concern is Rihanna’s 14-year-old fans, a loyal bunch constantly ready to threaten to steal your nana’s insulin should you shade their supreme being, will miss much of that. As the day passed I was ready to let that fear go and just salute Rihanna for a well-made video.

Then I saw this:

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Laying Down For A Leg Up

What is so sexy about a slinky? Forgive me, I haven’t touched one since 1988 and therefore am unaware of its aphrodisiac appeal. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate the video. Who can hate a body of work that can take Reynolds Wrap (I’m assuming the recyclable kind because it’s on trend) and make it into something so pretty and sparky? Plus, Kelly even managed to hit up a local zoo and borrow Barbar to help her break it down.

Somebody’s appreciating that boost in the budget post “Motivation” peak on the charts. I see you, Kelly, and I’m sure one of the production assistants smelt your success. By the loads.

Alas, there are some things not to like about the “Lay It On Me” video. The first would be Kelly Rowland’s hair. I’m no owner of a Kim’s Beauty Supply, but I know wack weave when I see it. Kelly Rowland has an amazing body thanks to her trainer and surgeon. If you’re going snatch hair from the scalp of an unsuspecting Indian woman, the least you could do is mold it into something that better accentuates all of the other positives that Kelly’s got going for her.

The second problem I have stems with brand of jig used. Granted, I will probably do one of those little moves she does if this song comes on in the club (or my iPod shuffle puts it on in my car while I’m sitting in traffic, which is far more likely considering…). However,  it’s a move I would have done on instinct anyway. It’s all basically a two-step and quick grind. Like, somebody’s current aunty could’ve helped craft that dance break. I read someone describe her dancing as “bish looks like she’s parking a car.” I have to agree: Kelly does have a parallel parking thrust going in throughout the video.

The biggest problem I have with the video is that it’s arriving so late the term “colored people time” would cut you for blatant disrespect. When I first heard “Lay It On Me,” I thought it sounded like that Keri Hilson song that pretends to be that Rihanna song. Or the Nicole Scherzinger that doing a similar impersonation. It’s since grown on me, though, which leaves me boggled as to why this video didn’t drop in the summer. It’s such a summery song. I suppose we ought to just celebrate Kelly even getting a second video.

I’m going to give Kelly Rowland some big ole praise for something: It seems like she’s finally getting it. Usually, I’m annoyed with people who fall back on sex because they haven’t a clue as to what else to do with their music and image. In Kelly’s case, I think it’s the smartest thing she could have ever done. I realize some people love Kelly doing rave music or what have you, but haven’t you been keeping up with the news? The Euro ain’t what it used to be. Neither is the dollar, but c’mon nah, if branching out no longer produces the same kind of check what is the point? She can watch American gay men dance to this song high as easy as she could some Europeans with the stuff David Guetta gives her.

Kelly has come home…and proceeded to toot it up. Anyone that has heard Kelly Rowland on Avant’s “Separated (Remix)” or “Bad Habit” or “Game Over” knows that she is great for straight R&B records. And sex music. I’m talking “Motivation,” “The Show” with Tank” and that new joint, “Slow Motion,” with Travis Porter. That works for her and “Lay It On Me” is still in the same family. I don’t mind Kelly doing uptempos. In fact, I encourage it. Who remembers Kelly boppin’ out Beyoncé to “Soldier” and twirking her life away on the dance breaks to “Lose My Breath?”

If she can’t be as much of a leader as some of the other girls in pop, she can at least work a format known to produce success. To quote the brilliant, Fresh, “Go and Sell That Ass, Girl.” I don’t object largely because Kelly seems to be able to do this without looking desperate like some of the other lessers. See this post for point of reference. So while the video isn’t perfect and it’s late like hell, Kelly gets a gold star as it is decent in the end. Well, she deserves a silver one, but the sight of Big Sean gave her an upgrade. Same for her Harem of Homeboys that she keeps around.

Next time, though, Kelly, try to angle Big Sean in a way that makes me think of Hammertime.

Try Again, Cali

For years now, I’ve shaded the state of California for lifting their dances from rappers in Dallas, Texas. And before you dare try it, see Lil’ Will’s Dougie and a dance called the rack daddy. Yeah, I thought so.

So yes, a few rappers out in sunny Cali have a problem with taking things that don’t belong to them. It’s shame, too, considering their rich history of originality.  However, I have to give it to California rappers: One of them has tried to come up with their own thing.

As soon as I giveth, I must now taketh away: This is the worst dance I’ve seen since that shit Missy tried to get us to do in the “Get Ur Freak On” video. I wish CaliKiddRome all the luck in the world with his rap career, but this dance isn’t the move. In fact, this dance looks a lot like that same move Chilli is always doing on stage whenever TLC performs.

I mean, technically it has all of the components of a mindless dance that would get kids and people like who me who should know better to embrace it. The song attached to it  offers a simple yet familiar beat. The song’s lyrical content is so dense that no one ever really remembers any of the lines until the song is playing (and even then it’s just the hook). Everything is there except the dance itself. The nonsense they’re doing in this clip makes you long for the sophistication of dances like “Laffy Taffy.”

By the way, I’d like to know what is Kel Mitchell doing in the video? Keenan is on Saturday Night Live and this is all you’ve got to do, man? Maybe they saw him drunk at a local taqueria and said to him, “Hey, wanna be in a video?” That’s the only way his cameo will make sense to me.

As for the other trendy folks who take part in the presentation of “G Swagg,” I’d like to note that I’ve actually seen fake Chad Hugo and the Justin Bieber impersonator out before. They were trying to have a House Party-like dance off at some random “fashion show” (that I went to see a friend…and an open bar). Had they not move like Kid ‘n Play high off too much medication for treatment of arthritis leg pain maybe more people would’ve joined in on the “fun.” All they did was sober me up.

I’m pretty sure California is much better than this. So with that said, I encourage the resident regional rappers to dust themselves off and try again. The G-Swagg isn’t going to happen. Trust me. No one outside of CaliKiddRome’s cousins are going to do this. He’ll probably have to pay his cousins in Fun Dip packets to do this on stage with him, too.

And Cali locals reading this blog, don’t take it as shade to you personally. You all still have the better weather and red velvet everything. Still, if you’re going to try and do a dance tune in the style of the South, you’ve got to do much better than this. Or hell, you know what? Go steal something else. Now I understand. Just pay homage this time.