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?

The song is “Itty Bitty Piggy’s” second cousin, once removed. It’s the kind of obnoxious, hyperactive song I enjoy when on a caffeine high. Nicki Minaj and all that she does is an acquired taste. If you didn’t like her before Pink Friday there’s no reason to feign shock about what she’s doing now.

To that end, I adore the visual for “Stupid Hoe.” If this is any indication of where she plans to go with her sophomore album, Nicki just may be ready become the kind of visual artist I anticipated her to be. It’s everything that Nicki has done in the last few years with her image on a grander scale. Perhaps some parts of the video are nothing more than a rehash of themes its director, Hype Williams, has already beaten to death in works from a decade or so ago, but it’s still a step up from past videos we’ve seen from Nicki.

First, she looks absolutely gorgeous. Blessings to her makeup team. They have her looking immaculate. The video itself is a sight to see — bright, colorful, and engaging. It’s exactly what “Massive Attack” failed to be. And based on the little bit she gave us, I see that Nicki has been studying her Twerk Team tutorial videos. One must remember rhythm is a privilege, not a right for the less fortunate souls trying to bust it open on beat. If I were near Nicki right now, I would do a Twerk Team kick in salute.

I’m sure it would help make up for the bird a lot of folks are flipping in her direction.

The word “clown” has been thrown around a lot to describe this video. Hello, Captain Obvious. I’m glad you arrived to your destination safely. I read someone say on Twitter that “Nicki is a clown in on the joke.” This is your life, Nicki Minaj, and that is exactly why I enjoy it so much.

One of my immediate thoughts while watching “Stupid Hoe” was that Nicki would make a great comedic actress. She doesn’t take herself too seriously so I wonder why everyone else tries to? This track and its accompanying video are nothing more than a big budget diss track. A colorful fuck you to Lil’ Kim, if you will. Complaining about a song called “Stupid Hoe” being simplistic is like expecting to get full off an empty plate.  Same goes for the lamenting the end of hip-hop.

And if you want to pretend that a goofy rapper who meshes her theater background from a performing arts school with what she learned about dissociative identity disorder by watching The United States of Tara is soiling the minds of children across America, you’re within your rights to have half-ass hobbies. Personally, I don’t think we give kids enough credit. I happen to think most of Nicki’s fan base gets what she’s selling: fantasy. A goofy, occasionally bratty and arguably immature fantasy, sure, but a fantasy all the same.  I certainly understand why some may hate it, but the babies will live and so will anyone who thinks otherwise.

The only criticism of the video I side with is Nicki pushing this “I am the female Weezy” shtick. Clearly her boss has had an influence on her, though she shouldn’t strive so hard to sell herself as the female counterpart of any man. You are your own person and you don’t need to be linked to a male peer to flourish. Isn’t that exactly why the person Nicki’s attacking has become such a target now? Never mind: I’ve already given enough thought to a song called “Stupid Hoe.”

Back to signing this song and making ridiculous noises and faces I go. Sing along. Or you know, don’t.

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.

Let’s start with one of the Care Bears since it’s obvious one of them produced this. I guess I should note that Amber’s song is leaps and bounds better than Kim Kardashian’s. Don’t award her too many cool points for that, though, because most folks have belched better gems than Kim’s  ”Jam.” Why does Amber sound like she forgot her No Doze the day she decided to record “Fame?” Why make mention of club and house music if your first offering is going to be so subdued? Not to bring up her past, but I was assuming that a stripper would release music a bit more lively. Then again, Trina and Eve always dance like they’re on the last few minutes of their shift at Puss and Boots on a slow day directly after the first of the month. Perhaps the newfound love of all things lackadaisical is a coping mechanism. Eh, call a therapist…and then DJ Khaled or somebody.

She won’t. Bless Amber’s heart. She doesn’t want to blow the whistle; she wants to heal the world, make it a better place for you and for me and the entire human race. I find it strangely ironic that her methodology for trying to do so is making a whiny dance track about her quasi-fame. Unless you’re on Michael Jackson levels of stardom, I tend to be annoyed by woe is me narratives espoused by celebs. This is what you asked for, isn’t it? And like Michael Jackson, who used to hit up tabloid magazines that ultimately only worsened an already bad situation, Amber invites the kind of “scandal” she’s cooing about on this track. Say, calling Kim Kardashian a “homewrecker” to TMZ. Then speaking to them again to say you shouldn’t have called her a homewrecker because it was a little mean spirited. A follow up to the follow up interview has been scheduled, too.

Didn’t Kanye West put her in a visible muzzle when he was her pretend Appolonia? If she didn’t want to be in the spotlight after their breakup she’s very much capable of returning from whence she game. I’m sure Orbitz or Priceline has a sale going on. If not, ask some of Kanye’s other special friends how they fell back. Not that Amber ever would. I distinctly remember a recent interview she gave in which she used to tell people that she’d be a star. Well, you’re sort of one now so enjoy it, love — preferably with a lot more chutzpah on future recordings.

If you’ll excuse me, everyone, I have to go get up and perform “Sex Shooter.” Those ladies knew how to work minimal talent for maximum effect. Learn from them and grow from (my) love (of them), Ambi.

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.

 For me:

If you can get past my eyes – which look sort of cockeyed in this photo – focus on what I’m holding. It’s a copy of Entertainment Weekly from March 2004. It’s their issue on the 25 Funniest People in America. I saved it for inspiration. I’m not even sure whether or not they still run that feature, but if they do I eventually want to be a part of it. I agree with the idea that I might be driving myself insane in the process, but it’s not like I haven’t gotten a leg up on that feat early on in life anyway. Just let me secure my lofty list of goals so I can afford a fancy therapist…which will ultimately lead to me getting a discount because I’m so darn successful.

I should also get my life together and go on a real vacation. Oh, and I did mention video blogging more when I converted to the Mac cult. Eh.

Evelyn Lozada: Expand your vocabulary.

As a fellow fan of the words bitch and fuck I understand how difficult it is to let go of something you love. However, in the interest of your tongue that surely can’t take another year of being forced to say the same damn thing every fourth word, it’s time to sign up for word of the day, boo boo. Besides, since Evelyn is a “writer” now it’s in her best interest to expand her repertoire of insults.

Jennifer Williams: Throw away your colored contacts.

“That ain’t hot.” — Tamar Braxton

P.S. Good for you.

Usher: Remember you’re primarily an R&B artist.

Yes, Oprah Winfrey and your second grade teacher, Mrs. Anderson, love them some “OMG,” but the people who supported Usher in the past prefer songs like “There Goes My Baby,” “Mars vs. Venus,” “U Remind Me” and “U Don’t Have To Call.” I read Usher is planning to release a new album next year. I’m not that excited as I suspect he’ll continue to sing like a disco ball in Belgium raised him. This is another reason why I wish 4 was handled better: He and others would’ve followed Beyoncé’s lead and help bring back non-homogenized R&B to the mainstream.

Donald Trump: Buy duct tape and proceed to loop it around your mouth.

Why do people still listen to this man anyway? Limit his press to blabbing talking points about Celebrity Apprentice and call it a damn day.

Olivia: Find a treasure map to humility.

Olivia seems to have the unfortunate impression that hard work alone reaps benefits.  How many times do you have to be told you’re boring and need to show you aren’t made of stone before it seeps in? Her arrogance doesn’t allow her to receive constructive criticism anymore. It also tends to have her treating aspiring entertainers like they’re beneath her. I read Somaya Reece – who Olivia repeatedly treats like the cleaning lady – say that instead of ordering Julius to bodyslam her, Beyoncé was nice to Somaya Reece & encouraged her. This is why your ass is singing sad songs about last “December” the same month a year later. This is why you lose, Olivia.

By the way, don’t question whether Beyoncé watches Love & Hip Hop. She’s the pregnant lady at the club. You know it to be true.

Christina Aguilera: Find a trainer, a vocal coach.

No sense in howling like a starving coyote anymore, Christina, because the moon has heard you and relayed the following message: Good morning and good night. As for the weight she’s gained, it’s not like she’s about to tip over and cause the next great quake in LA. At the same time, if you’re gonna wear tight dresses, hire a trainer or buy Spanx.

Jennifer Hudson: Learn to use your inside voices.

Pretty please.

D’Angelo: Finally release a new album.

This time won’t you save me? This time won’t you save me? Baby, I can feel myself givin’ up.

Kim Kardashian: Date off camera.

I think this one is pretty self-explanatory.

Anderson Cooper: Revise your talk show.

I adore Anderson, but there’s something odd about a man who’s never heard of waffles acting like your Average Joe who rides his bike to work, which happens to be a talk show with a really expensive set in an really fancy building. You’re Anderson Cooper: A man from wealth (nothing wrong with that) whose gone from television show host to man who climbs volcanoes in order to cover Hurricane Whatever. Act like it. I feel like the show should reflect that. He seemed way more personable co-hosting with Kelly Ripa on her show than his own. I still love you, though.

Bizarre, Drake, and like-minded obsessive people: Stop tattooing the images of celebrities on your body.

Nicki Minaj, Aaliyah’s ghost, and the mentally healthy are all afraid.

Lloyd: Stop sampling.

Notice how every so often Lloyd will come out of no where and score a huge radio hit before ultimately being forgotten about all over again? I realized much of that has to do with Lloyd essentially remaking already popular songs. That’s great for a cheap hit, but that won’t get people to care about you in the long run. C’mon nah: Don’t make it so easy for Trey Songz.

Miguel: Drop the pretension.

I am not the only one who’s noticed this trait. It’s the reason I had to unfollow him on Twitter. Sometimes you have to do that in order to remain a fan of someone. I love his voice and his debut album, but neither are enough to give homeboy a pass on that cooler than thou shit he’s sometimes on.

JoJo: Do more R&B records.

You know how good you are at singing them.

Meagan Good: A new role.

It might not be your fault, so I’ll pray with you.

Rihanna: A vacation.

I love you, but a break might do you a whole world of good. So take it, take it, baby, baby, take it, take it, love me, love me. After you finish making the full version of “Birthday Cake.”

Also: Cover “Sex Shooter.”

Rob Kardashian: Open yourself up to new experiences.

I’m ready when you are, sir.

For everyday people:

Stop speaking like a fortune cookie.

I get it: You want to accentuate the positive, but you are a person, not a daily affirmation.

Stop thinking you’re a celebrity if you aren’t one.

I’m all for people rising in stature if that’s their end goal, but people confuse a scant taste of notoriety with full-fledge stardom. Those that do tend to have the attitude of Keri Hilson with the actual popularity of…Keri Hilson.

Stop confusing being mean with being funny.

The two are not now nor will they ever be mutually exclusive. To quote Dr. Leslie Rosen: “Grow from love.”

Stop sharing every single detail of your entire life on social media.

I don’t need to know when you defecate, you piece of shit.

Stop offering unsolicited relationship advice.

Motherfucker.

Stop trying to get me to like those Negro Telenovelas on TV.

It’s not happening.

Stop fronting.

I don’t mind gay men talking about women of the opposite sex in a sexual way. I mean, I’ve talked about the Shredder as if he were a real person before. Unfortunately, many of these gay men do this yet never afford that same courtesy to the gender that actually sends a tingle to their testicles. Cut that shit out ’cause everybody knows like Phaedra. This actually applies to some of my friends, but they’ll get over it. So will some of you bisexual and gay women who hide under the guise of girlish flirts. I used to spot girls like that back at Howard University. Look, I’ve even told friends that I’m still wildly curious about Rihanna, enough to the point I might even let her do a lazy pussy pop on my face. BUT I KNOW I AM GAY. Fat Joe was so on point: “I’m a fan of, ‘Yo, I’m gay.’ The fuck.” And: “Fuck it if people don’t like it.”

Remember what’s most important. 

On his birthday, let’s remember the words of Pimp C: “It’s never too late to stop being a bitch.”

Happy New Year, all! Wishing everyone a great 2012. Thank you as always for reading.

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.

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.

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.

I don’t really know a lot about Just Brittany other than she’s from Houston, she is or was a stripper, and she’s signed to Cash Money. I have heard at least one of her songs, though. Last Christmas, while en route to San Antonio, I heard “Slumber Party” maybe 70 times squared throughout the day and night.

Oh, come on. You were curious. The song and video both remind me of that “Valley Girl” song that I wrote about last year (side note: as fate would have it the artist found me on Twitter not long after). That’s not really a compliment, but I do have some nice things to say about Just Brittany. I imagine that it requires a load of special talent to make your ass clap that hard in jean shorts so there’s that.

:::five minutes later:::

I tried to think of some other things, but I’m sort of stuck on her ass. Obviously, I’m not the only one. As You Tube user, SuperAWOLL, illustrates with the comment, “SHE CAN SIT ON MY FACE FOR AT LEAST AN HOUR!” He left off the exclamation point, but I assumed he would want one there if quoted. Yeah, I’d rather not, but give the girl credit for making her point. Problem is, the point is coincidentally where the problem lies.

Obviously, I don’t mind songs dedicated to ass, but there’s something about this video that’s way too gimmicky. Okay, so it’s probably my own fault for expecting something less blatant for a song called, “Right Cheek, Left Cheek.” I just can’t get over how much it looks like a sketch about a rap video than an actual rap video. As in the random words scrawling over the screen, noises such as “pow, bow, plow” masquerading as lyrics, and the use of other clichés such as the ”funny” ass-less white girl trying to emulate her big booty black sister in ratchet. Is there not another way to highlight the gift of ample ass?

I must admit if some go go boy wanted to dance to this in front of me I’m not going to deny him a couple of singles. We support the arts where Brittany and I are from. I’ll probably sing the hook, “RIGHT CHEEK! LEFT CHEEK! RIGHT CHEEK! LEFT CHEEK! BLOW PLOW! POW!” with a lot of energy, too. Does that mean that despite everything Just Brittany still won? Are you about to get up and try the dance yourself? Y’all know me: I need answers.

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.

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:

I have come a long way with my feelings about Rihanna. I used to want to call immigration on her. These days, I worry about the unnatural feelings she gives me. If I ever got into the girl thing (which ain’t happening, sorry mama, and some of y’all) I think I would have sex with her, but only because I feel like after I was done experimenting she would be cool if I said, “Hook me up with that bubble butt dancer of yours?” To which she’d say, “Which one?” and I would say in response, “One? Why are you being selfish?”

She’d laugh, offer me something I don’t do and then put me down.

Anyway, I like her a whole bunch now but a cute personality doesn’t prevent me from saying she’s got the game all wrong. When I watched Rihanna’s video I assumed it was a not so subtle reference to her ex. I also wondered what she was on (insert allegedly here). After that, I speculated with a friend as to whether or not Rihanna would be crazy enough to sniff pesticides and fuck on a farm the way she seems to constantly flock the fields in her music videos. Finally, I wondered, “No, really. Did she just fucking freebase on camera?”

None of my reactions to this was, “Oh, what a beautiful love story.” I will acknowledge that at the end of the video she leaves her bad romance and lessens the load she places on her nostrils (insert allegedly here). Unfortunately, it kind of comes across as an after thought considering the drug-induced “fun” she was having with Arnez Brown was glamorized far more in the clip than the break up. I was still hoping that some people would understand the context of the story and the message Rihanna sought to convey clearly. I now worry whether Rihanna even does.

If you watch this video and consider this to be a lesson on love, I worry for you. Tampons illustrate love better than anything in the “We Found Love” video does.

I know Rihanna’s deal: She thinks “sex, drugs, and rock ‘n roll” is cool. I’ve always found that attitude interesting considering that like me, she is the child of an addict. Whatever, as she repeatedly states she is not a role model. I have always found that claim funny from people who have no problem taking endorsement deals — which pretty much affirms that they’re well aware of the influence they yield on their fans (you know, like a role model). But, fine: She doesn’t want to raise other people’s kids. Who could blame her for deflecting that responsibility?

At the same time, she knows her power and she knows the power she has in conveying a given message to her audience. That’s what troubles me about this video to a small degree. This video is a lot of things. Cinematic. Intriguing. Beautifully shot. Well directed. Engaging. Funny. Strong. Impressive. A lot of good things, actually. Yet as far as pushing a message goes, this clip would serve Betty Ford far better than it would Cupid.

Every single one of us is prone to finding love somewhere that could be considered hopeless, but we don’t have to. That’s my issue with Rihanna’s retweeting of that statement. This video doesn’t teach me what love is. It’s merely a reminder that many of us are willing to call something love just for the sake of saying we’ve had it. And there’s an obvious danger in that. @RiRi_LoveU might have missed that message now, though she’ll certainly get it later.

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.

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.