I thought I was well versed with the Christian Right’s stance on gays. We’re degenerate perverts with cooties so massive that God sends the clap back to society at large by way of devastating earthquakes, horrific hurricanes, and vengeful monsters like NeNe Leakes.
What up doe, Pat Robertson?
Also, we’re highly contagious so please stay away from us, breeders. Like if you tolerate us, you’re prone to some gay assaulting your private areas with lust in their eyes and lubricant in their back pockets the moment you least expect it. Should you watch anything in media that’s gay friendly you run the risk of literally turning into a big gay flag. Oh, and Jesus will spit in the holy water used to baptize your child if you’re in favor of gay marriage and letting them adopt children no one else wants.
I’ve heard this sort of bullshit conveyed in varying ways over the years so I just knew I had all of the basics down. However, it has come to my attention that the zealots on the far, far right have gone and upped the ante on their lunacy levels. Apparently, a straight man teeters on turning team same sex depending on how he masturbates. This new information comes courtesy of Pastor Mark Driscolll.
Last week I read an article on The Root entitled “Beyoncé’s Incredible, Miraculous Pregnancy,” in which the writer basically assailed my lord and gyrator under the false allegation that she was shoving her pregnancy down everyone’s throat and that she needed to quit acting as if she’s the only person in history to be with child.
Part of the piece included jabs like this:
I’m happy for you, Bey, but the joy growing inside your womb is not the blueprint, and it is not biblical. It isn’t the Visitation; nor is it the dawn of a new epoch in the human calendar. It’s a baby.
Not to mention a subheading called “A Mom-To-Be Who Knows Her Place.”
Now you know I had to write a response to that. In my latest essay for The Root, “It’s Not Beyoncé, It’s You” I hit back at all of the author’s off base accusations and remind her and others that it’s none of our places to tell a woman to tame her excitement about becoming a mother. You can click here to check it out.
Feel free to hit like, tweet, and email the piece around. You an also hit your sexy and slow stanky legs, too. And remember: Watch you what you say about the Queen. The hive ain’t having it.
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.
I wanted to call this post “Conspiracy Cunts,” but I figured that might not be the best thing to have on my Twitter feed and Google index. I blame the Puritans. That’s still pretty much how I feel about this ridiculous story about Beyoncé faking her pregnancy all the same.
I noticed on the very night Beyoncé casually announced being with child that the headmistress of online sensationalism quickly barked that it was all a farce. That was to be expected if you’ve ever read the blog. Unfortunately, I gave other people the benefit of the doubt. I never learn, damn closet idealism.
There are people who actually believe Beyoncé is fronting about her growing fetus. And not just fronting: She’s cut her fancy pillow up into the shape of a prosthetic belly, which folds in front of foreign journalists. This video is tagged as “Best Proof Ever Beyonce is faking her pregnancy!! But Why? What u think?”
I think an insanely sad number of people are fucking morons.
I suppose in theory I ought to find this feature on Japanese youth mimicking the hip-hop influenced sect of black culture somewhat offensive, or if nothing else, painfully patronizing. I don’t. To be honest, it comes across as a little endearing. These folks seem to possess a genuine affinity for a black aesthetic.
Unlike these idiots who are clearly mocking black people. It’s women like them and Kreayshawn that make you almost want to wish a yeast infection on someone. Almost. The karma isn’t worth it. I learned that from Mother Oprah.
Anyway, these Japanese ladies are different. I get the feeling that if they took a field trip to Brooklyn they would find a way to stay permanently. Then they would go off and find the Asian dancer from Soul Train on Facebook in order to get a blueprint on how to find their place in a different world. The proof lies in the comments they deliver with a big cheesy grin in each and every instance.
I wasn’t aware that gospel artists remixed contemporary music until about 10th grade. That’s when my Catholic parish got a curly-wig wearing priest who would soon import the black gospel choir from his old church. I didn’t mind the shift in musical offerings considering the alternative was an organist and a soloist who sang in a style my ears never found to be that interesting. I think I would’ve appreciated her way of singing more had I been born before Vatican II like my mommy.
So yes, I liked the gospel choir better because it at least made a largely European themed way of worship feel more familiar. There were times when the choir would make me wince, though. Namely when they shifted from Kirk Franklin to Puffy and Jermaine Dupri. One memory that sticks out in particular is when the choir decided to remix Musiq Soulchild’s “Love.”
Lord So many people use your name in vain Lord Those who faith in you sometimes go astray Lord Through all the ups and downs the joy and hurt Lord For better or worse I still will choose you first
They also threw in some other corny verse and a guest rapper from the choir. I immediately started laughing out loud during mass. I couldn’t help myself. I found it corny as hell. The changes weren’t exactly a stretch given the original song, but it still sounded bad to me all the same.
Since I stopped being a regular church goer I’ve been largely oblivious to future remixes. Unfortunately, thanks to my friend and obvious demon, Lauren, I’m now reminded that these reworks are still being done — and uploaded online for all the world to see. If Jesus wept, it’s probably over the embarrassment that comes with being linked to such crappy reworks.
I initially thought it was satire or something, but Lauren assured me that these Dallas-based rappers were serious. She’s right. Sadly.
From their Facebook page:
Attempting 2 Take Gospel Music 2 a New-Level, while Reaching out 2 others and Minstering the Word of GOD at the SAME TIME….
Why can’t Christians let the heathens have their own songs? Especially songs like Waka Flocka Flame’s “No Hands.” When I hear this song I’m thinking, “hands on ya knees, hands on ya knees” versus fall on my knees and pray to the Lord.
I also noticed that their are gospel remixes to sexually-charged songs like “Motivation.” Whoa, savior? While I’m certain that Kelly Rowland loves her Bible, she made that song to get biblical. Why won’t you folks let her sin in peace?
I find this all to be selfish. Okay, so maybe I do adore the screwed and chopped version of “God In Me,” but I didn’t change the lyrics. Never once have I said anything like, “It’s the Pimp (C) in me!” I know my limits. It’s time holy rollers learned theirs.
No one wants to hear, “It ain’t no fun, if my Jesus can’t have none.” Or, “Say his name, say his name. When no one is around you say, ‘Jesus I love you,’ if you ain’t running games.” The same goes for, “Bless that demon that you like so bad. And when your with it, know that God’s in your head.” Oh yeah, a big no, too, for, ”Stop! Now the let mother blesser pray for y’all.”
Let “Saved Faces” “Sex Faces” and “Christians In Jerusalem” “Niggas In Paris” be free. If gospel singers want to reach the youth, try your own bounce friendly works like Mary Mary. Until then, cut this shit out.
Popeye The Sailor Man’s illegitimate seed wants the gays of rap to be free. You know, so they can stop giving women AIDS and shit. The Game’s shared these feelings during an interview with Vlad TV. When asked about homos in hip-hop, the rapper said Beyoncé should’ve named her song, “Run The World (Gays),” ’cause you know, we’re everywhere. Isn’t he clever, y’all? If your answer is yes, do me a solid and look to the right and click on that X. Gon’ now. Get.
Anyway, like most people who say they’re not homophobic but say plenty of homophobic things, The Game added that he doesn’t judge gay people. No, he only fears those in the closet are killing other men and women via disease — a theory long debunked yet continues to be uttered from the mouths of the uninformed. I suppose this is what happens when people get their information on sexually transmitted diseases from poorly adapted films like Tyler Perry’s For Colored Girls instead of CDC studies. Cough, cough, Janet.
Oh, The Game had some other breaking news to share, too: We live in a free country, thus can do and say whatever we please.
Like Exhibit B:
“It’s a lot of man fans out there in hip hop. I see how you n-ggas be lookin’ at n-ggas when I be around. They be looking at n-ggas crazy. You might see a rapper looking at another rapper like he got a problem but he really looking at him like he a man fan.”
Man fan, eh. I guess that’s better than the numerous times I’ve heard him say “faggot” on wax as if the word is his personal teeth whitener. It’s always the people who help incite the desire for discretion among select gay men chastising them for keeping secrets. Nothing screams gay pride like AIDS associations and Gossip Girl inspired discussions about the same sex sect. Who run the world indeed.
When I saw this video I instantly thought to pass it off as another example of a rapper saying stupid things. That’s still true, though in recent weeks I’ve encountered two separate instances where much smarter people essentially made the same dumb mistakes. I don’t think The Game or the aforementioned mean any harm, but folks know when a person doesn’t accept them. They also know when they’re being vilified. That ultimately is where the harm comes in. No one is going to open up to a anyone who clearly has a problem with something very personal to them. I can’t say that I blame them even if the secrecy bothers my core.
It’s nice in theory to hear a rapper like The Game say, “be gay, be proud,” but him wrapping the statement up in a big stereotypical blanket probably helps gay acceptance in hip hop about as equally as it further hinders it. Here’s to hoping some day soon someone a bit more eloquent can look out for the homos a little more thoughtfully.
In the meantime, I’ll add “man fan” to my lexicon. No way am I going to let that phrase continue to be used disparagingly.
A year ago, my friend of more than 10 years allowed me to blog about her nightmarish lunch date with a man who literally had to ask for her $14.66 to pay a bill that totaled $33.12. All my friend ordered was a chicken sandwich with fries. He invited her and didn’t have the money. She had $14 on her so he put the rest of the amount owed on his credit card. If you’re counting that means he put 66 cents on his damn debit card.
I told her to never talk to him again. I don’t think she listened, but she didn’t go out without him again. Guess what, y’all. That man is married now. My friend said she heard from him and he shared his happy news.
Did he win the lotto? No. Did he at least find a job? Wrong again. He did none of the above, but some woman decided to both marry and procreate with him. A school teacher at that. I suppose in his mind he feels like he did win the lotto.
Isn’t love grand? While you mull on that question, I invite you all to relieve (or discover for the first time) the blog post, “He Needed 14.66 To Cover Their Lunch Date.” Read that and process it. This man is married to someone. Someone who let him knock her up. Maybe he’s found some ambition or at the very least an EBT card.
I’ve always assumed that Bert and Ernie were fucking. I never had a strong reaction to it one way or the other, though. It was sort of like one of those unchallenged truths in which you know something to be true, but you don’t put any real thought into it. The sky is blue, Louisiana hot sauce rules over all, and Bert and Ernie were boyfriends.
I see a lot of people thought the same, which is why they pushed the producers of Sesame Street to marry them off now that it’s legal in the state of New York. I understand that equality must be had for all, but give me a break. What does it matter if two puppets of the same imaginary species get hitched? Would that show kids that being gay is normal? Sure, it could help, but the same can be said of merely telling your children that.
Like any people in a relationship that they’re comfortable with, the last thing they need is a bunch of nosy people telling them to change their dynamic for their own selfish reasons. So: Get off their nonexistent dicks, folks. Bert and Ernie enjoy their current life as is.
Bert and Ernie are best friends. They were created to teach preschoolers that people can be good friends with those who are very different from themselves.
Even though they are identified as male characters and possess many human traits and characteristics (as most Sesame Street Muppets™ do), they remain puppets, and do not have a sexual orientation.
Do I believe this? Hell no. I mean, maybe men can live together, have story time and occasionally cuddle and it be totally platonic. However, they sure do have the closeness many people long for. Still, people need to mind their business and more importantly, know when and where to push their agendas.
Besides, any gay person knows that some people will never come out. Especially not fictitious characters in the form of cartoons and puppets. For example, my home boy Snagglepuss, who I recently referred to on Twitter as my one and only favorite queen.
Now obviously, Snagglepuss is a little effeminate, seemingly not into kitties, and gay even! Yet, he lets you make whatever projections about his lisp that you want to because he’s too busy trying to live his life. He’s not worried if anyone can tell he can toot it and boot it better than most.
The same can be said about Pepé Le Pew probably being bisexual, Dale from the Rescue Rangers being trade, or Fred Flintstone’s boss being a secret bear. I’m not about outing people unless they’re in positions of hurting gay people — i.e. Republicans, influential preachers, and other stupid high profile figures. Otherwise, one needs to know when to hold ‘em and know when to fold ‘em. And in the case of two puppets getting symbolically married, it screams a big waste of time.
Oh, and by the way Sesame Street protesters, you should’ve contacted Big Bird. Much easier sell on gay marriage. Duh.
I would’ve jumped on this sooner, but I was trying to see if I could collect a check for checking him first. My efforts proved to be in vain. I can’t say that I’m surprised considering it’s not 2002 and I don’t write for Word Up! magazine. I’d still like to touch on this albeit briefly. I know many lesbians and more importantly, I get how annoying it is for them to have to deal with men constantly trying to tell them that their love of vagina isn’t genuine. You know, because they’ve yet to formally greet their magical genetic changing penis.
Speaking of those, Omarion is a dick for this tweet. I saw a few people in my timeline try to defend his ignorance as him merely “voicing his opinion.” I encourage those suffering from Captain Obvious disorder to do humanity a favor and go find their very own S.S. Minnow and tropical storm. Of course the tweet in question is an instance of Omarion expressing his opinions. That doesn’t negate the fallacy of the opinion or the narcissistic-rooted logic behind it. If you need a treasure map drawn for you to figure out why some would take offense to what he said, God bless you and the ability to think analytically that was evidently stolen from you.
Then again, I imagine certain thinking caps would be tightened had the little musing of O’s had something to do with them personally. Whatever, even if it were “just his opinion” that pretty much paves the way for others to share theirs in response. To that end, I need someone to let this little munchkin know that he surely doesn’t do it for everyone.
I mean, he does for me…or at least one magical area of him does anyway. I may have mentioned it once, twice, way too many times on the site. I know, I know. However, I also understand that isn’t exactly the kind of attribute that would send a lesbian reeling. Neither would his ability to penetrate her. See, breeders, not every girl is into that. Why? Because she’s a damn lesbian.
Sexuality is indeed not black and white for all, but some ex-boy bander turned – uh, fashionista – needs to calm down on claims that he literally has the magic stick. One, ’cause again, what he’s saying is absolutely simple. Two, gay people have a lot to do with whatever nominal level of relevance he still has. Sure, it’s mainly gay dudes but some of that fanfare trickles over to their sympathetic lesbian friends. You would think an artist – especially one a fledgling one – would understand that he needn’t alienate any particular group.
But I suppose when the person is he quoting Jehovah one minute and his overinflated ego the next he is bound to forget the fact that even if his ass is his greatest attest he needn’t give airs that his ass literally does the tweeting for him. Then he had the nerve to ask people to respect his disrespectful opinion. I respect an individual’s freedom to blurt out the asinine, but I don’t have to be nice to you about it if you’re being offensive.
I don’t know if his publicist ran away from home or left him behind when his last record deal retreated, but Omarion did get one thing correct: He most certainly is an example — of why some thoughts need to be placed in a private journal versus a public forum.
I’m sure he’s a nice guy, but even nice people mess up sometimes. So, please, O, offer lesbians the only kind of solid you can give to satisfy them and shut your fashionably late ass up. Oh and God Bless You and stuff.
