Nigga, You Turned Out Just Like Tyler. Pause.

I’ve been fighting off doing this post for weeks now because I didn’t want to speak ill of a show and a creator that I’ve long admired. But, it needs to be said: The last season of The Boondocks was really, really awful.

Honestly, the show has always been off and on since it began airing (when it’s brilliant, it is…when it’s not, yikes), but the final season was a huge disappointment overall.

Those of you who have been reading this site for years know that I’m a huge fan of the strip and Aaron McGruder.

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Can We Not Talk About This All The Time?

“Success is nothing without someone u love to share it with.” — Billy Dee Williams

I really despise Billy Dee Williams for saying this in Mahogany, because he truly put fear in many people’s hearts – fear that’s been since passed on to generation after generation.

Let it be known that while I am often single, this post is not reeking of couple envy. It is however doused in frustration over some people who only seem to want to talk about relationships.

All the damn time.

Their relationships, whatever relationship they feel I should have (sweet, but stop), the relationships of others, and maybe your relationships, too, if you shared so much as a first initial of whoever it is you’re dating.

Why? Well, because no one wants to end up alone, right? Not being married or at least living in sin is like the worst thing ever?

That is according to those creepy Washington Post articles about black women being bound to a life of loneliness. There have also been articles printed across the pond about white women developing “Bridget Jones” disorder. You know, the same sad scenario only in a different color and fancier accent.

And when I’m not dodging questions about my dating life or entertaining diatribes about the dating life of others, I’m seeing posts all across the Web dedicated to everything relationships.

Who wants to get married? Why doesn’t he want to get married? Where can I find a boo? Why don’t I have a man? Will I ever get married? Will they?

Meanwhile, I’m a workaholic who is the product of an embittered marriage. Combined with the fact that I’ve never had a real boyfriend (I’ve dated, had someone I called a fake boyfriend, obsessed over someone I would push you into traffic if it meant I could have him, and been annoyed with others) and you can see how far having a relationship ranks on my list.

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Can You Not Wish Death On Kat Stacks?

Kat Stacks is a simple, opportunistic, attention starved whore who thinks her crumbling vagina walls, loose jaw, and runteldat style of self-promotion is the key to fame and fortune.

Sadly, she’s sort of on to something. That is, if she were smarter than the average hooker – or at least half as smart as the Mrs. Garrett of tramps, Karrine Steffans. But she’s not so in the end, she won’t get as far as she’d like.

She may host “college nights” in D.C. (what the fuck, Washington) and collect a coin from World Star Hip Hop, but because she’s such an ignorant buzzard the chances of her developing an empire off several rappers skeeting down her throat like Mrs. Eddie Winslow are slim. Her chances of hitting the herpes lottery look promising, though.

With that in mind it’s understandable why so many would loathe such a loud, obnoxious, stupid piece of shit no matter how sad her story is.

Yet, over the course of days I’ve noticed that some people have been doing the most.

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Minding Your Manners

I like to think of myself as a pretty well mannered guy. I open doors for women when they let me, refer to women in certain settings as ma’am, and try my best to always be hospitable.  As a southern boy I feel like not being a rude jackass is essential to my identity.

Of course, moving around a lot to various cities outside of the south over the years has certainly tested my principles. I’ve been reminded plenty of times by women not to refer to them as ma’am because it makes them feel old. Usually, the women who sass me over ma’am are indeed old and insecure, but no matter, as you wish…my lady.

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Still Ready To Protest For Ciara?

After word let out that BET might have banned Ciara’s video for her first single, “Ride,” many a stan and contrarian for convenience was ready to stage a twirk off right in the front of Debra Lee’s house in protest. How dare BET refuse to air Ciara kegel instructional video?! Such a move was considered a harsh stance against Ciara’s creative freedom.

The common argument was, “Well, BET shows every damn thing else?! Why not Ciara’s video in which she teaches us the art of humping?”

As I previously wrote I don’t feel strongly either way about the video, but I do share the fears of the person who emailed a clip of two very young girls reenacting the video (to view video, click the bold text), though.

That fear being Ciara’s video would find its way onto the eyes of the young and impressionable. It’s not Ciara’s responsibility to be somebody’s parent. Also, as unpopular a sentiment as this is, I have to say that a child singing inappropriate lyrics or doing certain dances that puts fear in the heart of Chris Hansen doesn’t necessarily mean she will grow up to be Kat Stacks.

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It’s More About Commerce Than Complexion

In, nah, that ain’t it news, this morning I stumbled along a piece entitled “Alicia Keys vs. Fantasia Barrino.”

Writer and editor-at-large, Nsenga K. Burton, outlines her theory as to why Fantasia Barrino has been purportedly assailed in the mainstream press for her alleged role as homewrecker and not Alicia Keys, who is also believed to have involved herself with a married man.

Short admission: I maintained a blog entitled “The Recession Diaries” for much of last year and have written several pieces for The Root.

That said, with all due respect to the writer, this piece is nothing but failed projection.

Burton writes:

“I’m wondering why the mainstream media are so willing to let Keys off the hook for what many would call socially unacceptable behavior at best, and immoral behavior at worst, while taking Barrino to task for similar behavior.

Is it that Keys is too pretty to be pummeled?

Yeah, I said it. Keys, who is beautiful, fits the dominant standards of beauty in the black, white and brown worlds. Is that why she’s being handled with kid gloves by the mainstream press? We wouldn’t want to beat up on someone who is just so attractive.”

While I do agree with her core point – that regional differences, Eurocentric standards of beauty, and other things that can lead to bias in how people can be covered – I think in this instance it doesn’t apply.

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He Needed 14.66 For Their Lunch Date

I have been on some pretty awful dates in my time. There was my first date at 17, where I was driving so bad that the girl asked me to pull over and let her drive my mother’s car to her destination of choice – a Chinese buffet (where she threw all the way down). Afterwards, I didn’t bother making any kind of play for her.

Can you guess why?

I might have finally gotten the gender right, but I still can’t pick a reliant member of the Y chromosome to save my life.

Which leads me to the second date I ever had with a man. What was starting off to be a decent date went sour once he looked at me with befuddlement when I explained to him that I had no interest in women.

Him: “So wait, you don’t like women at all?”

Me: “No. I’m gay.”

To this day, I’m not sure why such a statement baffles the gay men I meet but I hell I’ve come across stranger things – like red velvet fried chicken.

There was this one date where I ended up being eaten alive by fire ants and becoming BFFs to Palmer’s to heal the scars.

I can’t forget to mention the last date I had in which it turned out to be a non-date that ended in me wanting to beat the shit out of the guy for wasting my time. This person previously asked about sexual positions and my belief in God all in the span of ten minutes. He then later claimed I was the one who came on too strong.

Why I even bothered with this person is a mystery only a future therapist may answer.

But yet like the saying goes there’s always someone worse off than you.

Enter my best friend of a decade, Kim, who over the weekend told me about a date so bad that I felt compelled to apologize on behalf of men everywhere.

Gentleman, if you ask a woman out for lunch, could you please have the money to pay for the meal?

Kim alerted me about her lunch date minutes before it started.

She said he was good-looking, younger, but broke.

Kim was never sure how broke, but she did notice he would always suggest the two go for a walk. In theory it sounds a bit traditional and romantic. However, in Houston, a walk in the park is like taking a tour ride through hell.

Yesterday Houston had a heat index of 115 degrees. On Saturday night it was still 95 degrees at 8:00 p.m. Would you want to walk in that?

No, so a cheap lunch sounded more appealing.

I told her that so long as she didn’t marry him moments after the date ended, it was alright to go out with him. You know, for the hell of it.

Yeah, I will never tell her that again. In fact, when you don’t want to go somewhere with a person, quote me on saying it’s better to not even bother. Otherwise, you might end up putting in on a meal you didn’t even want.

This man, ya’ll, ended up asking my friend to chip in on the food because he didn’t have enough cash on him.

Mind you, she did the man a solid by picking Chili’s for lunch. It’s not a place she would normally pick for a date (maybe not at all anymore, I heard they lost their touch), but she knew dude was light in the wallet so she was being courteous.

She was punished for it.

Kim tells me after the bill was laid on the table, the guy looked down, confused, and grabbed his iPhone to do the math.

“Yeah, I think Imma need you,” he told Kim.

Kim says she shot him a crazy look like, “Negro (with an igga), I ain’t paying for this shit.”

So he responded to her non-verbal communication verbally with, “Wait a minute, I gotta see if I can transfer.”

He looked around, pulled out an ACE card, and laid it on the table.

She asked, “What is that? A Rush Card?”

Close, it’s a card issued by the check-cashing place to people without bank accounts.

Now, the man has two phones – an iPhone being one of them (Yes, I know Walmart sales them now, but still) – but no bank account?

If that’s not a nutty Negro failure, I don’t know what is.

The bill total was $33.12.

She asked,  “How much do you need?”

He needed $14.46.

She had $14 on her.

He put the 46 cents on his credit card.

This is the type of mess that leads to shows like Basketball Wives.

So what did they order?

She had a Triple play, which is an appetizer, and a drink. He had a chicken sandwich and a drink. He could only afford his chicken sandwich and maybe two sips of drink.

Broke people, order water with lemon.

Or better yet don’t order shit and all.

I think he knows this, because he told my friend that next time he’ll just eat before he takes her out.

Bless his heart, they’re not going out again.

I don’t want to judge anyone struggling given you never know what ambition and fate can do to a person in their respective future. At the same time, though, if you can’t even afford a meal at a restaurant two bar stools ahead of a clean fast food chain, why are you asking people out on dates?

Do you have a horrible date story? If so, gon’ and share.

A Star May Be Born

I don’t know Montana Fishburne’s relationship with her father. Since announcing that she was launching a career in pornography, many assumed that the 19-year-old must harbor some deep seated resentment towards her pappy, Laurence Fishburne and that this stunt is nothing more than her attempt to bring pain to him. And yet, Montana says that simply isn’t the case — telling TMZ that up until her pornography press the two enjoyed a good relationship.

That could turn out to be proven false, but until it is I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt and believe her when she says that she looked to a sex tape as a launchpad for a successful career.

When I first heard her say this I assumed that she might have grown up with some learning disability that wasn’t treated in time. Her father’s career didn’t exactly start off on a high note (shout to Pee Wee Herman) so perhaps Laurence and her mother cut corners. Maybe they lived in an apartment building immersed in toxins, taught her how to read with a coloring book, let her top her Happy Meal fries with Wite-Out and whatever else might put fear into the hearts of your local CPS worker.

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Whoopi, Wake Up & Smell The Racism

In theory I can understand why Whoopi Goldberg wanted to defend her friend, Mel Gibson. Sometimes the most horrific statements can come out of our mouths at the height of our fury. We might not be able to take those comments back, but we can show the people we hurt that we didn’t really mean what was said.

At the same time, though, you got to know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold ‘em. Kenny Rogers never lied, ya’ll. If Mel Gibson had limited his racism to the drunken episode he had back in 2006 when he faulted Jews for every single major war, then it would be much easier to take him at his post-rehab word that he wasn’t some racist jackass. However, now that he’s screamed racial epithets like “wetback” and told his baby mama that her style of dress “may get her raped by a pack of niggers,” I think it’s pretty clear how easily Melly Mel could rock with the Tea Party at Happy Hour.

Some people vehemently feel otherwise:

To that I say:

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There Ain’t Nothing Going On But The Rent

In ya’ll ain’t shit, get out of the race news, one black woman is making headlines for doing her part to keep certain stereotypes about our cousins alive by beating the hell out of her 16-year-old daughter for not paying rent.

Indeed, police have accused 49-year-old Ranay Collins of knocking her daughter nearly unconscious with a cane. She’s also accused of slapping her across the face with an open hand and biting her breasts.

Yes, you read that correctly, this woman bit her own child in her breasts. Why did she treat her child as if she came with honey mustard and a strawberry soda?

Well, as she explained to police: “That bitch owes me $50.00 for rent.”

If you’re reading this from your phone, allow me to explain the cane swinger’s side of things.

She argues that her 16-year-old daughter is out of control. You know, the kind of bad ass teenager that allowed Sally Jesse Raphael to continue collecting checks long after the peak of her talk show. And apparently Bebe’s bastard has a violent streak of her own. She’s been accused of whooping up on her 66-year-old grandmother — scratching her face up and stomping her with her Timberlands.

That’s why Ranay warns, “I’m going to kill that bitch. Next time you come that bitch is leaving in a body bag.”

Oh, it gets better.

Ranay says she never wanted to be a mother (I guess that answers why she never raised her own child) and that her cane swings were the result of tough love. I’m not sure how one can truly show signs of love to someone they obviously didn’t want, but I digress.

Ranay also seems to follow the Saudi Arabian guidebook to dealing with crime.

Via ABC-13 (Las Vegas, these are your people):

“I put my cigarettes in my freezer. One day two packs is missing. I asked her about it. The next day all of mine are gone,” Collins went on to say.

On top of everything, this woman is dating Mr. Newport and/or Joe Camel.

Naturally, Ranay doesn’t think she deserves to be charged.

“She’s a trifling girl,” Collins added. “I said, Brittany you what, just like god punishes me, you’re gunna get punished.”

Now do you all see why I want to launch a national campaign to develop sterilization spray?