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In the age of “There’s no dense opinion not worth sharing,” I came across one of the most frustratingly stupid articles of all the time. The Guardian’s Orville Lloyd Douglas has officially upped the ante in his misguided and dumb essay over his exhaustion with slave narratives on the big screen along with a call for Black people – presumably Black Americans in particular — to just “get over” slavery already. Ad hominem attacks aren’t always ideal, but neither is the asinine advocation for the erasure of such an integral part of history. As irony would have it, Douglas wants Hollywood to stop making White people “feel bad about slavery,” but is peddling this nifty form of nonsense in a mainstream paper for major White consumption.

Referring to movies like the box office hit “The Butler” (pictured above) and the much-buzzed about “12 Years A Slave,” Douglas writes:

I’m convinced these Black race films are created for a White, liberal film audience to engender White guilt and make them feel bad about themselves. Regardless of your race, these films are unlikely to teach you anything you don’t already know. Frankly, why can’t Black people get over slavery? Or, at least, why doesn’t anyone want to see more contemporary portrayals of Black lives?

I, too, share the longing for more contemporary portrayals of Black lives being told on the screen. That is to say, more than the ones that require Tyler Perry donning a dress and informing some uppity, educated woman to lower her standards, get her some Jesus, and ride off in to the sunset with the blue collar supermodel-looking boyfriend the Lord just blessed her with.

But a-ha, Douglas! That’s already happening if you bothered to pay attention.

Earlier this year, the New York Times highlighted a new wave of Black films spanning a number of subject matters, including musicals, romantic comedies, social dramas, and holiday-themed comedies. Such is my issue with lamenting a point that could easily be debunked if one managed to waste precious seconds using that magic, information finding product called “Google.”

Even if that was not the case, though, that point has nothing to do with the significance of continuing on with slavery-focused films.

Would Douglas tell the Jews to get over the Holocaust and other instances of anti-Semitism? Should Americans get over their obsession with presidents like Abraham Lincoln and John F. Kennedy? What about our past wars? Do Asians not have a right to bring greater attention to America’s own dark history of concentration camps? What about those flicks focused on the Roman Empire? Cleopatra?

You can read the remainder of this essay at NewsOne.

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When I planned to write about Tamar Braxton, I intended the focus to be on Love and War, the excruciatingly-long awaited follow up to 2000’s Tamar. Tamar has never been too complimentary of her debut project, though I’m not entirely sure why given it was a solid release. Funny enough, her sophomore effort doesn’t stray from that album’s concept: a mix of classic R&B ballads that could easily be sang by big sister (post The Heat) coupled with sassy uptempos that match the finger rolling, neck rolling, catch phrasing spewing person we’ve come to learn thanks to reality television. The key difference between Tamar in 2000 and Tamar in 2013 is that the latter offers music more polished in sound and presented with a mightier machine.

I’ve been wanting to stress the point the album is worth a listen and purchase to those who don’t want anything to do with Tamar due to her antics. Then this interview happened.  Tamar is always volunteering ways to remind people of what an insufferable, petty shrew she can be at times. Where is Janet Jackson to scream “FIX IT!” when you need her?

I’m happy to see the Love and War perform so well in its first week, but it’s mind boggling to see how someone who ought to be happy continue to project such a nasty attitude. I can’t even fault “The Breakfast Club” for “baiting” Tamar Braxton because there’s really no such thing. She is known for being catty and antagonistic.

She’s taken shots at Beyoncé and Joseline Hernandez on Tiny Tonight and uses Twitter to throw digs in the direction of her peers like Alicia Keys and K. Michelle. It’d be one thing if she owned that behavior, but she’s feigning victimhood — dismissing K. Michelle’s gesture and peace offering while professing herself to be the victim of bullying. I saw her exchange with K. Michelle on the day K. appeared on 106 & Park. Tamar started that by acting as if she is the originator of a Black woman with blond weave and K. Michelle finished it by clowning the absolute shit out of her.

In turn, Tamar pretended to be so above the likes of Joseline and K. Michelle during an appearance on Watch What Happens Live — pretty much on par with what she did in this interview. And yet, she’s been “bullied” by K. Michelle because she called her a muppet in response to her calling her a wig thief. So, what about her insinuating that Blue Ivy came out of someone else’s vagina and that Joseline doesn’t own one?

I’m sick of celebrities bastardizing the world bully. K. Michelle didn’t bum rush her, pull out a razor from underneath her tongue and demand that she hand over her blond tresses. She didn’t jump on Twitter, berate her for seven hours, make her cry and call Ms. Evelyn who in turned called on Traci to fly up to New York to whoop K. Michelle’s ass. None of that happened. All K. Michelle did was bark back at someone who should’ve kept their nasty comments to themselves.

Did she have to insult her face? No, but did Tamar leave herself open to that? Has she not done a similar line of attack before? The only thing worse than a person who throws a rock and hide their hand is someone who does all of that and behave as if they are the victim of a crime.

If you’re so above it all, Tamar, you could’ve kept it cute, no? Say something along the lines of, “Thank you for the purchase, I’m over it and don’t want to talk about her.” Instead, she had to act as if she is so much above K. Michelle.

I salute Tamar’s success, but sis, you have two TV shows, a major radio hit for your demographic, and a very powerful husband. You also had that album on sale for $4.99 at select online retailers. Smart, yes, but c’mon nah. Yes, you’ve sold a couple thousand more than K. Michelle, who garnered press from a reality show but used mixtapes to build a genuine following, but is that something to brag on? I wouldn’t be surprised if both sold close to if not a little bit over 500,000 units. That’s a feat for most acts independent of genre, but particularly good for an R&B artist.

Why can’t they just get to the money together?

This pretty much explains a lot of the basis of their lingering tit for tat. As shady as K. Michelle sounds in this clip, Tamar often behaves like a bitchy queen. If you didn’t know, most bitchy queens are insecure somebodies looking for validation and all of your attention. When they don’t get it as they prefer to receive it, they lash out.

Tamar, I adore thy voice, but you must cut the shit.

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By now you’ve heard of Pastor Makeda Pennycooke who made national headlines, after sending an e-mail to parishioners that “only White people” should greet visitors at the 9:00 a.m. service at Freedom House Church. Why? Presumably because colored people wouldn’t be greeting visitors until 9:15 a.m. at the earliest.

In all seriousness — or, I should say, as serious as one can be in a stupid story like this — Pastor the White Man’s Ice Is Cooler wrote the following:

We anticipate having an increase in the number of people visiting and attending Freedom House over the next few weeks.

So what’s the issue at hand?

Well, “first impressions matter” and the church should seek to put ”the best of the best on the front doors.”

Where is JJ Evans’ picture of Ned the Wino as Black Jesus when you need it?

Pastor Yeah, I Luv Dem Whites continued:

We are continuing to work to bring our racial demographic pendulum back to mid-line. So we would like to ask that only White people be on the front doors.

In other words, in order to court White people, Pastor Keep It Bright and White believes that only Whites can attract other White people.

Read the rest at NewsOne.

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If VH1 doesn’t pick up Strip Club Queens: Atlanta and run it immediately after part two of the Love & Hip Hop: Atlanta reunion, someone should die. Well, not really, but they need to go find something else to do. I would tell BET to air it, but since y’all punked them into thinking they had to run nothing but wholesome shows (that are largely ignored), that’ll never happen. TV One isn’t an option, but maybe if VH1 makes the mistake of not scooping this brilliance up, perhaps OWN might give it a go.

At this point, Oprah seems like she’d air a Jesus sex tape if it’d win her the key demos. There’s always Oxygen, who could air this as one major fuck you to the folks who stopped Shawty Lo’s show before it truly began.

Whoever decides to pick this show up, though, someone needs to. Stat. This is like the reality TV version of The Players Club.

I am so fascinated with strippers. Unlike the more stuck up wing of the world, I don’t begrudge the women who strip. I do have issue with some of the reasons why women feel they have to strip to survive, but I also acknowledge that women who work in adult entertainment are just as multifaceted as other people. Now, I’m not entirely sure we’d get that from a show that looks like high grade World Star Hip Hop, but there are elements there.

Say, the woman with the huge neck tat with three kids, two houses and a pet pig. That one woman named Sinna who has the green mo hawk action going. Okay, I’m tired of spinning this in my favor. I want to watch this show every single week and I could give a damn what kind of ticket the morality police tries to write me.

Like, I need to see this show. Did y’all hear Boy Toy say, “I used to be a slum bitch from the ghetto and that’s what you gon’ make me be again ’cause you so worried about why my pussy famous and why yours is not?” A star is born.

And the one who said, “Financially, though. A bitch paid.” Girl, I am so jealous of you. I think about stripping every day I pay a student loan. To hell be with the lenders.

I don’t see it for the stuck up white girl who’ll probably get beaten to the white meat by episode five, but “MLK on that, bitches” is quite the memorable line.

There are episodes already available online that you can watch for .99 cents an episode. Uh, I don’t know how I feel about paying to watch something on the Web, but I suppose the hood needs its own version of Netflix and Redbox. I cannot deny that at this moment, I am very tempted to spend that dollar on this.

Still, this is must see (on) TV programming.

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Yesterday, I read on the Twitter that Shay and Momma Dee got into an altercation at a Red Lobster in Birmingham, Alabama. I shouldn’t want this to be true, but I find this story too hilarious to not want to. I can envision this happening in my mind so clearly that I’d be a bit hurt if it wasn’t brought up at the next Love & Hip Hop: Atlanta reunion.

Apparently, they were at separate tables so allow me to paint a picture. Butt hurt over love Shay sits one table over from the empress in her mind, Momma Dee. As a waitress comes back from the liquor store next door to fill Momma Dee’s order of Thunderbird with a splash of Dr. Pepper, Shay rolls her eyes, pissed off that Momma Dee shorted her on their shared club fee. Momma Dee catches that and Shay whispering Shade into some queen’s ear, takes a sip of her drink and proceeds to toss it at Shay’s head with half a cheddar bay biscuit in her mouth. Shay stands up, ready to plex, but someone wisely snatches her by the dyed ponytail she got straight from the Kentucky Derby. After all, as an ex-pimp and drug dealer, Momma Dee is trained well in the art of pistol whipping and bitch bodying.

Okay, so maybe it didn’t happen exactly that way, but I think we should run with this version of events anyway.

Meanwhile, if these two do indeed get into a scuffle it may mean that Momma Dee might finally stop trying toss Shay into Lil’ Scrappy’s sac despite that current space being occupied by his fiancée. I know Olivia Pope gave a lot of you unrequited love having folks false hope with that hilariously ironic “If you want me, earn me!” line on last week’s episode of Scandal, but in reality, you already gave it up so there’s no much else to earn as you’ve got silver and/or broze stamped on your ass cheeks. For the love of Beyoncé, Shay, if you’ve got to turn to your man’s mama to get a man, that ought to tell you all that you need to know.

Yet, here she is, like a stubborn buzzard, huffing, puffing, and chirping over a man who embarrassed the absolute hell out of her on national television by proposing to another woman right in front of her. I have certainly played myself over love, but at some point you’ve got to look in the mirror and say, “I’ve got to let my jaw heal from all the trauma I have put it through.” I hope Shay lets her cracked face repair itself.

In fact, if Shay’s looking for love, maybe she turn to Momma Dee. They’ve got a lot in common. They’re both obsessed with Lil’ Scrappy. They both can’t stand Erica. They both need some business. They’re both into Shay’s ass. I would not be surprised if Momma Dee has told Shay off camera, “I can at least get 300 an hour off that ass.”

Shoot, even if y’all two did fight inside of Red Lobster like some Facebook trash, gon’ head and kiss and make up and go on a double date in Alannuh with Monifah and her lady. If that doesn’t work, use that VH1 check to find each of yourselves a man (or woman, noh8 and shit) on BlackPeopleMeet.com. Do anything besides…clucking like this on purpose, Shay. Unless something magically changes in the middle of the season, it looks to the victor goes the baby mama. Hell, even if you did manage to sneak in and get some cut, Shay, look at what you had to go through first?

Would you look at that? I’m a life coach and relationship expert now. Wipe me down, or better yet, find me a dashiki so I can give Iyanla Vanzant some competition.

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If you were to close your eyes and simply listen to this interview, you would be under the impression that the person speaking was a multi-platinum selling superstar with a litany of hit singles who played a crucial role in the shape of contemporary R&B. A person so accomplished that even if they chose to take swipes at their peers – an act most usually perceive to be done in poor taste – there’s not much you can say considering they’re so supremely talented and successful. Like, God personally shaped their vocal chords, Jesus produced their entire catalog, and Allah sent Mohammad on a white unicorn to saddle on back to Earth to demand that every Muslim cop their disc — securing said artist an all-time sales record.

But as soon as the okie doke begins to take over, you open your eyes, see that it’s Lil’ Mo speaking and immediately find yourself dumbfounded. Lil’ Mo has the confidence of Beyoncé with the success of Lil’ Mo. What am I missing?

I actually bought Lil’ Mo’s first album and remembering it dropping the same day as Alicia Keys’ debut. I still even listen to some of the tracks. Say, “How Many Times,” “Ta Da” and “Player Not The Game” with Carl Thomas.

However, take a gander at the closing of this All Music review of Based On A True Story: “Probably the best reference point for Lil’ Mo’s winning blend of street smarts and classic soul divaship is Mary J. Blige, and Based on a True Story suggests that Blige could have some serious competition in the years to come.”

Anyhow, I don’t pay much attention to Lil’ Mo and her ongoing social media jihad on the Twitter, but I imagine if she’s going to be like this on the Los Angeles spinoff of R&B Divas, she’s going to be a contemptuous cackle worth catching weekly. And even if she does come across a wee bit delusional about her place as the Godmother of Hip Hop and R&B, I’m entertained. A whole bunch.

Hell, I could stand to be less critical and play up my strengths the way Goddis Love’s mama does. It seems to do her a world of good. Helps her hold on, all that.

I mean, this was Mo only three years ago.

Look at her now: Earning TV checks for shade queen. I’m not sure why she doesn’t get along with Negro Twitter better. Is this not a shining example of where your self-important bitchiness will take you?

For the record, I looked up the source of Mo’s ridiculous moniker.

As she explains in an interview with Soul Train:

Soul Train: You call yourself the Godmother of Hip Hop Soul – can you elaborate?

Lil’ Mo: It’s actually the Godmother of Hip Hop and R&B.  I did a show a few years ago for the LGBT community. Before I left the stage the host grabbed my hand and told the crowd to applaud for the anointing over my life.  He went on to say that God has his hand on me and though many won’t like it, nor what I do to survive, never compromise and always stay humble. “For I am the Godmother.”  I cried and ever since then everyone calls me Godmother. Heyyyyy…

My apologies, breeders, for thy gays tried the absolute shit out of it and now we must hear this title forever more.

 

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Oh, look, you guys. Abigail Fisher has a little sister. Suzy Lee Weiss wrote what she called a “satirical” piece about her not getting into the colleges she wanted.  In it, she whined and whined about why “diversity” kept her from attending her preferred institution of higher learning and excessive tuition. Never mind that her grades and scores weren’t up to par or that she got into other good schools that, when combined with her race, will still result to her leading a life better than most who live under much different circumstances.

However, because Weiss threw in a few “jokes” with her rant, she doesn’t understand why people – us people – have any reason to pick at her.

After all, she’s the one who likely got her parents to fork offer large sums of money to enroll in SAT prep courses. That is, those standardized tests already culturally biased in her favor. I’m sure she also had them waste funds on school trips and interviews. Yet, it’s all so very, very unfair that of all the privileges she enjoys in the world, going to an Ivy League school isn’t going to be one of them.

Well, until she wrote this nonsense in the fucking Wall Street Journal:

For starters, had I known two years ago what I know now, I would have gladly worn a headdress to school. Show me to any closet, and I would’ve happily come out of it. “Diversity!” I offer about as much diversity as a saltine cracker. If it were up to me, I would’ve been any of the diversities: Navajo, Pacific Islander, anything. Sen. Elizabeth Warren, I salute you and your 1/32 Cherokee heritage.

So just like Abigail Fisher, whose Supreme Court case that might completely decimate affirmative action all over, her pity party is being treated by conservative-leaning entities who want to use their messages to further their anti-diversity initiative agenda. Now she’s being offered internships. Plus, as you can see, it’s come to my attention that she’s been furthered awarded for her musings on her mediocrity not being rewarded enough to her delight by being booked on Today.

I suppose it will never dawn on her that this whole hoopla demonstrates the kind of advantages she has in life and how a few ‘no’s’ cannot stop her show. Ditto for the realization that other folks with actual things of importance to say won’t get their voices heard in such far reaching media outlets.

But why would she care? It’s all about her, remember? Her. Her. Her.

Meanwhile, what a smug little something, she is.

“I was attracted to the sexy ivy league names.”

Gee, why wouldn’t anyone want you around, girl?

“It’s like 30 Rock taking on things politically correct.”

She’s young, so obviously what Tina Fey did on that show went completely over her head. Hopefully someone can cover the cost of a clue and send it fast delivery to her.

“We’re being judged on things that we cannot control as opposed to things that we can.”

Welcome to life. Don’t let it get you down, though. In the end, you are white, so gon’ flip that naturally straight hair of yours, girl. The system continues to be set up for the organically pale to be pushed into the promised land.

That said, damn you, Today show. There are millions of students who could only wish to have the options this brat does and you ignore them all the damn time. I don’t know why bratty white youth being obnoxious has become a recent trend in coverage about higher education in America, but I’d love for it to die a swift death. The sooner the better.

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So this happened. At first I couldn’t figure out why this deranged 12-year-old from 1996 was randomly tweeting me a threat. Then it hit me that it was probably the post I wrote about Lil’ Kim the other day. Or it could’ve been this post. Or this one. Or that one. Maybe the piece I wrote for EBONY.com last year. Whatever it was, clearly this crazy sum’bitch to become quite upset with me.

When in the business of speaking your shit to earn your supper, you get used to be told that you ain’t shit, ain’t ever been shit, will likely never be shit or are a piece of shit in return. It’s the circle of shit, if you will. When I was writing political pieces every week for AOLNews.com, I routinely got emails from cranky conservative white people who saw me as Assata Shakur’s long lost ornery son — and in some cases her ornery gay ass Black ass son. Insert more racism and all sorts of vileness here. I’ve also had numerous insults directly sent to me within this space and all of the other various places my writing has appeared.

So I’m used to people having words for me, though none have ever been on some “stay inside fo’ I kill you, bitch” sentiment.

After I saw this post, I initially thought to say something like “Fuck you, fuck the bitch that bred you, and fuck whoever didn’t lock up their wifi, which outlawed your Internet thug ass to keyboard goon.” I opted not to, because well, it’s not worth it. In fact, I feel bad for anyone who not only makes a celebrity the centerpiece of their life – to the point where they want to inflict bodily harm on a complete stranger if someone speaks ill of them – but does so for a celebrity who star is more faded than a pair of acid wash jeans from 1986.

Whoever didn’t hug that ridiculous, jello-nose loving asshole in his or her youth, you failed us all. All that said, fuck this idiot. Before I ended up making fun of this psycho in real time on my timeline, I definitely reported their tweets to Twitter directly. I went outside this weekend and will be outside tomorrow and every day thereafter, but anyone so stupid enough to make a traceable threat for the world to see is not worthy of the service.

Even gang members and drug dealers on social media use codes. How do you have the nerve to be both dumb or crazy? You can only be one or the other. There is no sense in trying to overcompensate when it comes to flaws.

I like Kimberly Jones, circa before all this bullshit happened, and I wish her and her Batman-villain manufactured body well. But rest assured, if she’s doing something ridiculous and/or awful and I am so inclined to write about it, I will continue to.

God bless you, too, motherfucker.

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So Tamar Braxton finally put some beans in that oven, and while I’m happy for her womb, as soon as I read the news I started mourning her sophomore album. Children are great if you’re into that kind of thing, but yo, what does this mean for that hot sugar, sugar? Tay-Tay singing to Epic already prolongs the release of her new project, but between breastfeeding and diaper changing, who knows how long it’ll take now?

I realize harboring these sentiments places me right in the top five of the universe’s ain’t shit list, but you know, if the almighty Beyoncé can still struggle promoting an album during pregnancy, what chance does a mere mortal have? I’m not just selfish, I’m concerned. That makes it somewhat less trifling, right? No, well, I’m entitled to my feelings. I’ll ultimately get over it. Not before I hit publish on this post, though. So, yeah, let’s keep this going.

I mean, I wouldn’t have a problem with Tamar Braxton shooting a video for “Hot Sugar” with a baby bump. I’ve learned over time to stop judging pregnant women in the club. It’s like, so long as they’re not taking shots, shots, shots, shots with everybody, or giving her fetus blunt breath, have at it…in your private section preferably.

I just wanted Tamar to finally enjoy the kind of musical success worthy of her talent. I’ve waited more than a decade for a second album. I suppose another year will be fine. Eh, probably not, but I’ll still buy it, girl. You know I love that voice.

That said, salute to Tamar for announcing her pregnancy by saying “I have a love on top.” #Beyhive ’til she die. And now baby makes two.

Oh and Toni: You can drop the bit about retirement and call Babyface now. If I have to wait until Tamar is done with postpartum (I’m going to hell), you’ve got to carry the weight of the Braxton family’s musical legacy. Yes, again. Sorry, Trina can sing, but not enough are here for acting like Ke$ha’s Black nanny trying to get her groove back as “Black Britney.”

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If I had any lingering doubts in my mind that Miguel has gotten his life from “Freakum Dress” at least thrice, consider them confirmed now. Oh, wait a second. That comment is part of the reason why Mr. Pimentel is doing this, isn’t it? Eh, maybe but even so someone should explain to this young man that it gets better and it will even sooner if one doesn’t start air wrapping their dicks in preparation to simulate sex on stage in Sweden.

I’m sure Left Eye is somewhere above smiling at the realization that her lessons of safe sex have carried over to her follow processed hair artists. Or maybe it’s from laughing her ass off with Rick James and Eddie Murphy’s singing dreams in the afterlife. Pick your poison.

Look, I really like Miguel. He’s a nice songwriter who is trying in earnest to evolve R&B and soul music. Also, I’ve run into him a few times out in LA and he’s a very nice guy. Not at all like some of the pricks I’ve come across who don’t possess even a fraction of his talent or morsel of his potential.

Plus, his sophomore album is sublime and I’m actually still a little put off that it hasn’t gotten as much attention as channel ORANGE. It lacks the backstory that makes Frank Ocean’s debut so powerful, but as total a body of work Kaleidoscope Dream is a bit more versatile (as opposed to Frank’s, which I think has stronger songs but a bit lopsided when looking at it wholly). I think there remains a disparity in terms of attention given to each artist, but the above clip is yet another reason why I can see Frank continuing to be the critical darling that gets the sort of accolades Miguel’s more honest about wanting to get.

Little pretty man with the press and curl, you’ve already pressed your head so there’s no sense in giving the rest of you that treatment.

I, of all people, would never discourage anyone from using their sexuality if that’s what moves their heart. Hell, I think “T-Shirt & Panties” is one of the most underrated records of all time. Nevertheless, this all feels like overcompensation, party of one.

Dude, we get it.

You like girls or something. You’ve been working out. No need for the oddly simulated reminders.

Bobby Brown would hump the stage back in his day, and if memory serves, Trey Songz has faked fellatio once or a dozen times during a concert, but as much as I like those artists, they’re not on the sort of creative wavelength you’re on, man.

Those two seem like 13-year-old boys who just discovered an erection (for the rest of their lives) whereas in this clip you’re sort of giving me the one who wants to prove you’re just like them so a kickball won’t be hurled at your head. I get it, but quit it all the same. You have enough talent to fill up Andre the Giant in your Prince barefoot short frame. Act like it.

You don’t have to do this, especially not that hard. Yeah, what was with that grind, dude? Not to mention you throwing your hand back to make sure you bangs didn’t move too much out of place while you hit your daddy stroke. You out here fucking like Trade Little Richard?

Meanwhile, between this and the Los Angeles District Attorney giving Chris Brown failing marks on his progress report, Frank Ocean is having the best week ever.

P.S. As my homie, Devon put it: “And somewhere young gay men are making million of gifs to use for their personal time. Well played MigMoney. Well played. lol”

See? Didn’t stop it.

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