Monday, December 6, 2010

The Antisocial Network

That term is ambiguous in the modern era of soul-less profiles of the social networks. Cell phone contact lists are rarely used for conversations, but more frequently used for texting with a broken up cyberspace language which rarely reveals individuality and sincerity.

LOL :) Takes the place of the exchange of laughter between two friends. It replaces the individuality of your facial expressions which can only translate between two best friends.

Best friends are reduced to two grains of sand in a sea of profiles which rarely use a real name or a real personality.

Is it the fate of the social network to drain the social skills of generations?

Friends hang out at the mall, I phones/Blackberries in hand, communicating with their other friends while in the presence of their friends. It is safe to say, that mans best friend has become a gadget, filled with cartoons.

I only have one real friend who calls my phone with real extended conversation at least three times a week. Others dwindle on the social networks, asking me to send #s to their inbox's to reveal how they feel about me. And on the phone, instead of conversing with me, They lethargically text yellow faces that look nothing like them. I am left liking their status and a phone full of yellow faces.

I can no longer hangout with anyone and expect their full undivided attention, I can expect a jingle to interrupt our conversation at least once every two minutes. Facebook, Twitter, Instant Messaging and Texting abruptly deflate all feelings of appreciation, sincerity and bond.

We multiply our friends lists while our dining room table sits empty. With 2000 friends we will be sure to have an audience. But the audience doesn't speak, it only applauds.

We spend our time, peeking into other people's lives, pretending we are apart of them while they secretly do the same thing. We are only as special as the pictures we post or the clever tweets we display.

Friendship, it could mean anything in the age of the social network, where being social has taken on a less social meaning. Where hanging out on Friday night needs only start with one application on Facebook and one Tweet pic away from, "Look at what I did last night." And last night, you met another internet disaster, during a Yahoo Groups meeting at the club where you happened to meet a middle aged librarian from E Harmony. She was supposed to be 25 in spaghetti straps...

Our lives are no longer private. We display them for the entire world to gawk at. For people to SHARE and your identity spreads like a virus, your loneliness successfully disguised by a "TOP 8" on MySpace when you know it's only your "TOP 5" on T Mobile who actually know your last name but who didn't make the social networks friends list cut. How backwards.

We all want to feel special and we all want to be POPULAR. The social networking age has effected the baby boomers who reinvent themselves at 50, becoming a popular comedian with a friends list of 3000 from 30 different nations. However the 90s babies and beyond, are only keen to this cyberspace existence. They don't know how to write a love letter in class, they only know how to send a "flirty face" on text.

Who are we becoming? Who really cares about you? When everyone is listed as a friend, to whom do you turn to for comfort?

Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Interview with Beyonce....and "Family"

Isayaah Parker: Beyonce, it is a pleasure to meet you and thanks for inviting me to your home! I feel honored that you're giving a rookie journalist like me a face-to-face interview for my new magazine, "DIVAFIED"

Beyonce: Rookie journalist? Nigga please. You said you write for Vanity Fair you lying ass stunt queen. What is a DIVAFIED magazine? You can get out of my mansion with that bullshit and take your dusty 90s tape recorder with you.

Isayaah Parker: Girl bye! I would love to get up out of this mansion. Your camel toe is stinking up this joint and its getting in my clothes, or is that your husband I smell? Crawling around in his cage. You only let him out for public appearances. Who let that camel out of Africa anyway?

Beyonce: Mathew, come get this hoe!

Mathew: Little faggot, raise up out of here, or I will blackball you from the entire media. You won't even be able to write for Mediatakeout once I'm done with you.

Isayaah Parker: Mathew, you know good and well Solonge is you and Beyonce's retarded baby. That's why she can't grow no hair. Take a moment and climb out of Beyonce's pussy and start paying attention to Tina's cobwebs.

Mathew: It's Mr. Knowles and me and Beyonce aint have no babies. But stay away from her pussy, it's mine!

Solonge: What the fuck is going on here? Mama, I mean Beyonce, can I have 20 bucks to go to the movies?

Beyonce: Bitch who the fuck said you can go to the movies? I told you to stay in your room. Where is my....umm....nephew?

Solonge: He's sick of seeing you; always holding him hostage on hay rides around your dry ass lace front with Joe Camel. He thinkin you his mama.

Mathew: You know Beyonce can't have any children, the least you can do is let her raise yours.

Beyonce: Umm hello, we got a journalist in the room! Shhh.....

Isayaah Parker: I knew it, bitch you aint no 20 something. Menopausal bitch. Looking like you were the House Slave that Harriet Tubman couldn't stand. Jay Z is probably younger than you. What's Kelly Rowland doing here?

Kelly Rowland: I'm here to set the record straight. Mathew is my daddy. He fucked my brokedown mama while she was working as a nanny at the Knowles compound. Mathew aint never done shit and Beyonce, you can kiss my bony cripsy black ass after you hand me my check!

Beyonce: Mr. Kelly please. You looking like an anorexic Serena Williams but manlier. Now take off that wack ass wig and un-tuck your dick, the cameras aren't here. My toilet needs to be cleaned, I just had diarreah and a period at the same time.

Kelly Rowland: Heffa please, you stopped having periods when you were making hoes "Say YOUR name." You dusty ass industry whore. I hope you fall down some more steps and go brain damaged. Then I'm gon' sell your gray pubic hairs on EBAY!

Isayaah Parker: Beyonce, why do you have that haystack on your head? You look like the scarecrow in the Wizard of Oz with that stupid look you always got on your face. Beyonce, how do you feel about global warming?

Beyonce: Global warming? I'm a Christian woman, I don't do those sorts of things.

Kelly Rowland: You stupid uneducated hoe. You know nothing about everything. Latoya just pulled up and she about to read you better than Jennifer Hudson did on the set of Dreamgirls.

Latoya Luckett: Beyonce, I've had enough of your non singing ass. I can sing circles around you and you know it. That's why you and your daddy always blackballing me. You scared cuz you know I will upstage you at any award show you raggedy ass bitch. Still wearin your mama's House of Disaster threads I see. I woulda thought with those millions you would at least get some Jimmy Choos, cuz them square toe heels make you look like a horse, or is it that dry ass weave you got sticking out of your neck. Rihanna is making you look like the clearance aisle of Marshalls while she paints Mac lipstick on your husbands camel dick.

Isayaah Parker: I have Keri Hilson on speaker. She has a question for Beyonce.

Keri Hilson: Beyonce you lying ass whore. I wrote 3 songs for you and you acting like you wrote them shits. You untalented bitch, me and Neyo been writing your shit while Latoya Luckett and Kelly Rowland been ad libbing your shit behind the scenes.

Beyonce: Bitch I told you before don't come for me! I thought I sent you to Singapore. Don't come for my voice. You sound like a ghetto Miley Cyrus in "Turning me On." Looking like an overgrown weed with eye balls. Bitch, you will never be on my level. Bow down like the rest of these bitches.

Tina Knowles: Anyone want some Creole biscuits?

Kelly Rowland: Fuck your biscuits you old Cowella Deville, Joker looking, curtain wearing Devil worshipper! How the fuck you owned a hair salon and you and Beyonce's kitchen is looking like Whoopie Goldberg's armpits?! Lookin like yall bought all the leftover wigs from the Beauty Supply store in the 9th ward of New Orleans after the hurricane.

Tina Knowles: Look hoe, I raised you, gave you some coin, you need to take your manly ass back to the white gay club. They the only ones whose checking for you.

Letoya Luckett: Where the fuck is my check? It's been over 10 years and a bitch is hungry!

Mathew: Bitch, the unemployment office is in my bedroom. Sit on my bed and take off everything but your tampon. Oh shit, what the fuck this hoe want? I thought I admitted her to the Los Angeles Zoo.

Michelle Williams: I escaped. A bitch is hungry, Tina, hand over that plate of biscuits.

Beyonce: Looking like a telephone pole with a hot air balloon on top.

Michelle Williams: Bitch you wish you was slender like me with your celluite and saggy ass titties.

Beyonce: Bitch don't come for my titties, you flat chested, whiny voiced, last minute Destiny's Child backup dancer.

Michelle Williams: I will fuck you up B! Say something else!

Isayaah Parker: I think I have all the information I need for the article.

Mathew: Security! Hold him down while I inject him. This is going to hurt Mr. Parker. Hand me the tape recorder.....

Kelly Rowland: I'm writing a book.

Mathew: Oh yea, grab these heffas too.

Wednesday, November 17, 2010


As a kid I had a sneaking suspicion that I wasn't "normal," aka, heterosexual. This feeling was no more pronounced than when something possessed me to write Sean a love letter in the first grade. I bet he's a hottie now!
I was born this way; GAY. Only I can know that, other people try and tell me that it's impossible or that if I tried a vagina, I would be turned out. (Specifically, their vagina)
The fucked up thing is that as a kid, I always fantasized about marrying a woman. Yes a fair skinned black woman with degrees and long hair. A big house with kids running around and calling me daddy. I wonder how I was able to have a crush on Sean and still be able to fantasize about a wife?

I'll tell you how, because I never saw anything else, I was never told that it was normal to take a husband or to merely embrace my sexuality. Instead, I was just told about Adam and some bitch named Eve. My dad would talk about my future wife, introduce me to girls while winking and all of my entertainment "role models" had heterosexual relationships.

Now in my 20's I live in world that's engaging in political warfare over gay marriage, people on podiums and pulpits talking about protecting the "SANCTITY OF MARRIAGE."

I was blessed to be adopted by a loving husband and wife couple and I always saw my parents as having a sanctified marriage, even though I was never a religious person, I have always noticed something divine about their union. However the divinity and sanctity of "normal" heterosexual marriages has not been apparent in overall society.

Most of my childhood friends had parents who were undergoing divorce or separation. In my eyes, heterosexual's haven't been the gleaming examples of marriage themselves.

The hypocrisy of it all is so glaring, yet politicians and preachers still have the audacity to rain this bullshit down on us. Acting as if gay marriage will be the end of the world as we know it.
Homophobia seems to be the last form of bigotry still allowed in popular culture.

Well everyone, brace yourselves, because the gays are here and they want to get married.
Yes our civilization will crumble and turn to anarchy as married gays parade the streets with their adopted kids who no doubt will grow up to be just like their heathen parents.

Oh yes, every child needs a father and mother figure they say, yet so many kids grow up in single family households already, so many kids are traumatized by separated and divorcing parents yet two women or two men can't raise kids as a stable couple? Why then is gay marriage deemed not sanctified and when was marriage sanctified?

If we are still on planet earth, marriage throughout history originated with "ARRANGED MARRIAGES" where families would marry off the daughter to a rich husband in order to ensure the elite status of the bloodline and to provide economic security for the woman. The woman could not create her own wealth so she had to marry a knight in shining armor to make her fit into society.
Men throughout history would take on many wives and this practice is still prevalent today, so is paying a dowry to the other family, which is pretty much the bride's family paying money to the grooms family before the marriage.

What's so sanctified about the skyrocketing divorce rates in America? What's so sanctified about drunken wedding chapel weddings in Vegas that are annulled two days later when the couple is sober?

Look, I'm not clamoring to get married, I'm just sick of the hypocrisy. I no longer dream about a mini van and a long hair, fair skinned wife, I'm not Ken and Barbie can kiss my ass.
I just think its fucked up that as a kid I was aware that I could never marry someone who I was in love with. I had to put on a tuxedo and meet a white veiled woman at the altar to please my parents or I could run away to West Hollywood. (Even in West Hollywood I couldn't meet a tuxedo at the altar.)
Too many men get married to women just because it's the NORM and what ends up happening is the down-low phenomenon which I'll save for another blog.
We need to stop preaching about what's sanctified and start talking about what's realistic.
God had nothing to do with Britney Spears being married to her friend in Vegas for under an hour, God had nothing to do with Bobby Brown and Whitney Houston shooting up crack while their daughter was neglected in her bedroom, God has nothing to do with the history of marriage which has always been a financial arrangement, a sexist exploitation of women and a contract that means nothing in the end.

My dad is a preacher and he is AGAINST gay marriage. Too bad he has a lesbian daughter and a gay son. And too bad he doesn't see his own children as equal.

But hey, I'm not a gay marriage activist, I am merely an activist against bullshit and hypocrisy.

Look my fellow humans, be honest, Just say you don't want gays to get married because you see them as less equal, rather than saying you're trying to protect the sanctity of marriage. Just admit that you hate us. Just reach down into your black heart and pull out that big blood clot of BIGOTRY and OWN IT!

If the worlds heterosexuals can have Vegas weddings, multiple wives, pay dowry's, get divorces and flaunt their husbands millions on the REAL HOUSEWIVES OF HYPOCRISY, then homosexuals need to be afforded the same sanctified opportunities.

Come on people, at least admit that it would be funny to see a gay version of BRIDEZILLA on tv.

Saturday, November 13, 2010


Director Tyler Perry is typically known for his Church Hat chitlin' circuit films where he dresses up in a girdle and explodes stereotypes faster than Flava Flav can eat a chicken wing; however with "For Colored Girls," he leaves the sanctuary behind and brings audiences into a more realistic gritty world.
Otherwise known as, Lee Daniels swagga jacking.
(The Oscar award winning/Perry endorsed film Precious, opened exactly 1 year before this; coincidence?)
Based on the groundbreaking 70s play "For Colored Girls who Considered Suicide when the Rainbow was Enuf," Perry's film version maintains the original poetry of poet Ntozake Shange's play, however at times, the poetry fails to mix with the less than cohesive dialogue's of Perry's characters.
In the theatre, you feel as if you are sitting in a Broadway play until you are awkwardly and abruptly yanked back to a Hollywood Soap Opera; the poetic stage play and the Hollywood film battle and sex each other at the same time.

"For Colored Girls" could have easily been called "When the Rainbow was Enuf" because I didn't see how the pigmentation of the women in the film, had anything to do with their struggles, not to mention the awkwardness of modern women referring to themselves as "colored." The play came out in the 70s, I was born in the 80s so I'm not sure what black people were called then, but in 2010, it sure aint colored. Perry probably missed loads of moviegoers just by the title since white women may have felt anxious about asking for a ticket to "For Colored Girls." The human drama of the movie was enough and the title misrepresents what it really is, a film about women's struggles, the characters just happen to be black. With a few race related Shange poetry lines thrown in there, one wonders if the films setting should have been decades earlier.

A high yellow Thandie Newton recites, "Being colored is a metaphysical condition, I haven't conquered yet."

Honey, if your BARELY COLORED ass aint conquered being colored in 2010 then you done missed the decade in the world when we chanted, "Say it loud, I'm black and I'm proud!"
Seemed a bit ridiculous.

**The film's setting is current as "Rihanna" is mentioned.


Tyler Perry just couldn't resist a topic that hits home for him, men on the down-low. As if his shopping buddy, Oprah, didn't wear the topic out enough, Perry is bombarding us with a sexy stock broker who just can't keep his penis out of male mouths while his magazine editor wife eats alone.
Janet is a great actress, unlike Beyonce, she belongs in movies, she has natural talent. However, Perry failed the bitch once again with his off-putting script and soap opera composition.
When a woman finds out she is HIV positive from her cheating gay husband, a bitch don't want to break out in a mundane irrelevant poem while sitting on the edge of her bed with a full face of flawless makeup, not one hair out of place. The poem clearly wasn't written about HIV or down-low men in the first place and having Jackson say, "You can take your HIV with you," in the end just seemed comical, especially since he can't take ALL of the HIV with him, the damage was already done. The plot felt forced and unnecessary considering the fact that there's rape, child murder, abortion and venereal disease also in the film.
Janet's presence felt more like a COVERGIRL commercial from Hell rather than a movie role. Diva worshipping Perry just couldn't resist making his favorite girl a DEVIL IN PRADA. (this is Jackson's third Tyler Perry film)
While the other women cried their eyes out with mucus running out of their nostrils, Janet's tears rhythmically rolled down her MAC face, somehow not being mixed with her mascara as the light perfected her profile.
Her delivery was spot on, but her positioning was boring, her eyes acted but her face sold makeup.

Kimberley Elise however, didn't even wear any make up as she played Jackson's personal assistant. Her crazy ass veteran husband beat her up and murdered her kids. Elise has to be THE MOST TALENTED ACTRESS IN HOLLYWOOD. Somehow she has managed to slip out of THE OSCARS radar, lets hope she gets noticed this time. You need only to look into her eyes and feel the pain of her character. Elise OWNED this film and if anyone should get an Oscar, she deserves it. Unlike Halle Berry

Lorreta Devine can be considered the comic relief of the film as she is a nurse and sex clinic worker. She counsels women about relationships and sex, yet she needs a miracle to bring her man home to her at night. Her story is the least dramatic of them all but Ms. Devine can recite a poem! At times I felt like I was at church and wanted to get up out of my seat and shout! That woman can act!

Anika Noni Rose was ELECTRIC. She plays a dance instructor, worldly and sexy. It's implied that she likes to play HARD TO GET (dick tease) No woman deserves rape, in no situation but she's a trusting woman, living behind rose colored glasses but she learns her lesson.
SIDENOTE: Perry did a fantastic job of capturing the food burning on the stove as Rose was raped.

Rose's path in Hollywood should no doubt lead her to the Oscar stage, along with Kimberly Elise, she needs to pick out her Oscar gown.

Thandie Newton and Whoopie Goldberg played mother and daughter and they had a great chemistry. Thandie played a slut and Whoopie played a crazy cult member and the dynamic between them was sitcom worthy.

Phyliscia Rashad's return to the big screen was a job well done. Her maternal quality made you want to lay your own head upon her bossom. It was funny hearing the perfect Cosby wife elude to a falatio.

Keri Washington, the outsider of the film was wife to the only good man in the movie, the sexy Hill Harper who played a cop. Washington couldn't get pregnant because of some STD, but her drama was rushed and irrelevant to the entire film. Her existence as a social worker was much more powerful, I didn't really care about her private life or her diseased vagina.


Thursday, November 11, 2010

A brainless MINAJ is fun but music needs LAURYN HILL

The music industry is in a state of emergency and I urge everyone involved to evacuate.
Lauryn Hill used to dominate radio waves with commercially viable music that could make you dance yet think at the same time. Furthermore, Hill's raw melodic soulful ballads helped you deal with a break up and celebrated the love that is your first born child. Ever since she left us, the industry hasn't been the same. The female rapper, doesn't even have a name, she has aliases, identity crisises and a bar code on her ass.
Do you remember when the radio sounded like this?? (BELOW)

"It's been three weeks since you've been looking for your friend
The one you let hit it and never called you again
'Member when he told you he was 'bout the Benjamins
You act like you ain't hear him then gave him a little trim
To begin, how you think you really gon' pretend
Like you wasn't down then you called him again
Plus when you give it up so easy you ain't even fooling him
If you did it then, then you probably fuck again
Talking out your neck sayin' you're a Christian
A Muslim sleeping with the gin
Now that was the sin that did Jezebel in
Who you gon' tell when the repercussions spin
Showing off your ass 'cause you're thinking it's a trend
Girlfriend, let me break it down for you again
You know I only say it 'cause I'm truly genuine
Don't be a hardrock when you're really a gem
Babygirl, respect is just a minimum
Niggas fucked up and you still defending them
Now Lauryn is only human
Don't think I haven't been through the same predicament
Let it sit inside your head like a million women in Philly, Penn.
It's silly when girls sell their soul because it's in
Look at where you be in hair weaves like Europeans
Fake nails done by Koreans
Come again"

Now we have a bipolar woman whose approaching 30, acts like she's 10, who graces our television screens with insane facial expressions, neon colored wigs and lyrics that equate to gibberish garbage.
She calls herself a Barbie, hides any trace of her Black Caribbean roots and saturates herself in Caucasian images while pretending to be inspired by the Harajuku of Japan. Clearly inspired by Lil Kim who was the rap Queen of the 90s, (yes she wore neon wigs and aspired to be a European but she commanded a mic better than anyone of that decade.)

What's left in the wreckage is a rapper who signs boobs and autotunes a hook. Somehow the masses are under the illusion that shes a rapper/singer as Ms. Hill was.


(BEYONCE *cough* *cough*)

The female rap game has flatlined while the male rap game is in critical condition. Lil Wayne fucked every girl in the world and 50 Cent wanted everyone to have a baby by him to become a millionaire.
The Minaj rap industry has taken the game to a place that RUN DMC AND MC LYTE would have never imagined it would go. They have got to be upset, as what they started has become a complete circus act.
Gone are the days of Queen Latifah's "UNITY" and rising are the days of "LIL Freak" where a Minaj is implied in less than creative lyrical arrangements.

We as consumers need to take back our music, take back an industry that used to promote art and now only exploits trends/gimics.

What upsets me most is that living legends like Queen Latifah, MC Lyte and Lauryn Hill, Hell even LL Cool J, are allowing this trash to perfume the airwaves. They are condoning this unnaturally large assed female "rap" game that leaves listeners wondering if they even know that the first lady of the United States is African American.
We have come thus far yet we now parade on stages and forget about the UNITY that we so wanted in the 90s, instead we adorn ourselves with ass pads and call ourselves Barbies while Lauryn Hill hides in her voodoo room, while Queen Latifah poses for Cover Girl sporting European cherry blonde tresses, and while MC Lyte does voice overs instead of 16 bars.

Back in the early days of the female rap game, MC's would battle it out for lyrical relevance, now they battle it out for ASS RELEVANCE. See "My Chick Bad Remix"

The radio is pathetic and leaves us wishing that Jazmin Sullivan could rap, then we would have something close to Ms. Hill, but even her vocals are overshadowed by a yoddaling Rihanna and a growling Beyonce.

Ms. Hill we need you back. We need the sermons that was your music. You can't inspire us while being silent and acting completely insane.
We need substance to balance out the monkeys in wigs.

We need to groove again, raise our fists again, be proud again, THINK again.

Thursday, November 4, 2010

True Black Stereotypes

Stereotypes exist for a reason, may be because, they are accurate for the majority of the group that it attempts to define.

Stereotypes didn't just come out of some bigots imagination. In my opinion, we all are the adhesives that help keep the stereotypes tightly fastened to our big black ghetto booties or stuck to our cars rear bumper that as an Asian, we just can't drive. We learn from the subculture that we are apart of and as far as African American's go, we learn how to be black from Church.

True Stereotype #1 WE LOVE CHURCH
As a black man, I have grown up surrounded by constant reminders that I am black. Being the son of preacher parents, reminders that I'm black explodes with tambourines and off tune big breasted soloists.
Church is something that 99% of African Americans subscribe to, usually do to mere family tradition. Oh yes, as black folk, we will hit the club on Saturday, smoke a fat blunt, fuck a couple of hoes and land our asses in church Sunday morning as to not upset our mother.
For black folk, church is a second home, a place to hang out with relatives and "church family." A place to show off your latest designer clothes and hair dos. God is the last thing of concern when you have Brother Thompson taking off his tie and waving it above his head like a helicopter because he done "Caught the spirit." Sister Mable catches it too as her larger than life breasts bounce up and down in her girdle that holds on for dear life.
And you better not walk up the center aisle of nobody's church without the assistance of an Usher, or you will have an angry woman dressed in white approach you with a raised finger and a map that directs you to where "walk-in's" are supposed to be seated. O yes, the Usher board doesn't get paid but they sure do take their jobs seriously.
In the black church, it is the norm to hear about how God hates faggots in subliminal language, yet so many "faggots" appear as "Ministers of Music," typically dawning a multicolored suit with gelled up hair wishing he could do a Beyonce "Uh OH" booty pop during the bridge of the song. But hey, lets not leave the preachers out of it, BISHOP EDDIE LONG: need I say more? Yet as gay men we are all going to Hell? Them preachers can kiss my gay unholy ass.

True Stereotype #2 SOUL FOOD

Black people love to eat & as a result most of us have big asses, even the men. I am not all the way black so my ass doesn't protrude like most gay black bottoms. But lets get into the high calorie food choices us black folk make. Oh yes, every occasion for black people must involve chicken. Drummetes will do, just have some mother fucking chicken, even at a baby shower a bitch will provide some KFC chicken tenders. We love our ham hocks, collard greens, candied yams with marshmellows and grease on top, chicken legs, thighs, breasts but most importantly CHICKEN SKIN and make that shit extra crispy like its potatoe chips. We love our grits in the morning covered in butter and sugar, we want our chitlins at the family reunion and we desire some macaroni & cheese and potatoe salad on Christmas. BRING THE HOT SAUCE!
Black women take pride in their phat asses and sweet potatoe pies, black men expect their women to cook up some SOUL FOOD and to keep that ass lookin like its stocked with food for the homeless.
And lets not forget the typical black folk libations which include RED KOOL AID, GIN and SWEET TEA (2% tea 98% sugar)

True Stereotype #3 THE MAD BLACK WOMAN

The wrath of a black woman is so strong that many of us black men done turned gay. I can testify! Black women will always get the last word, they don't argue, they dictate and if you think you are winning the argument then wait a couple of days, because she will be sure to bring it up again and win.
Black women hold more grudges than any other race of woman. If sista girlfriend looks at her funny then she won't like the bitch for the rest of her life. If you choose to interrupt her while she is talking then that is your own suicidal actions, she will shut you up and shut you down. A black woman will always talk shit about her black men, keep running to the same man, love the dick and tell all her girlfriends how much of a dog he is. I have nothing but black female friends and I constantly hear about how black men have done them wrong, how some bitch is hating on her and how she deserves better. Black women may not all be mad, but they sure like to argue and complain.

The film, "WAITING TO EXHALE" pretty much sums it up, I.E. Bernadine burning the damn garage down and in REAL LIFE Lisa Lefteye Lopes BURNING THE WHOLE FUCKIN HOUSE DOWN! (R.I.P.)

There are a lot more TRUE black stereotypes but these are the main 3 that ring true from my observations. Lets keep in mind that the most hateful stereotypes are untrue like all black fathers are dead beats and that we are violent, gang related uneducated niggers with hoop dreams. FALSE.

PRESIDENT Barack Obama, need I say more?

Tuesday, October 26, 2010


You fuck in graveyards while gazing up at imaginary rainbows.
Intangible pride.
You are the black faggot
Lower your head
Keep your promiscuous evil in your own bed.

Heathanist, unnatural colored faggot, don't step foot in the church or you'll get burned
Hypocritical Pastor sends you all to a Hell, worse than what you already live in.
Your own coloreds reject you, bury you.

We are all around you... sometimes in a whisper, other times in a roar.
Together we resemble a resilience to a storm
But colors mask darkness.

These are our stories. If you don't ask, we won't tell.
But journey into our ravaged minds.

This is who we were...

...before we committed suicide.

Delano The Prettyboy: At seventeen I was light skinned, a veteran of sex, lies and rape. Stereotypically fine; that is for a black faggot.
The boys at church thought I walked funny, like a "sissy." Church mothers told me take up some sports with hard sarcasm in their eyes.
Sunday school taught me about Rosa Parks, all those civil rights leaders, but I didn't feel apart of it. Especially since the sunday school teacher constantly told me to cut my nails.

By high school, I was attracted to masculine men, real men like heterosexuals. But these men wouldn't love me, they'd feign love with their erect dicks and slow jams for ambiance. Tinted cars, midnight rendezvous; He said he loved me, they said they loved me, but couldn't show it boldly, universally. Love spread wide open in a one bedroom apartment in the late of night, a weeknight so his girl would think he was sleeping for an early work day. I thought this was love between men, how a faggot should behave. I thought my body was my soul.

They'd come from behind, sizing me up, taking me back to dark rooms and afterward, they'd sweep me away with brooms. His hands rudely grabbed every strand of my curly long locks. Hard disrespectful man, led to an assembly line of torment. At eight teen he infected me but I was already diseased, or so they'd say. Freshman in college, senior in pain; I was poison. Branded for life by a disrespectful man who exploded my self hatred and shame. He would never call me by my name. He fucked me before his basketball game. I remember him, everytime I open the pill bottles twice a day. I've been called a prettyboy, handsome, but I've never been called amazing. My hand never been held, my soul neglected, my caramel skin exploited. My unsatisfied girlfriend enraged by the revelation. It was too much, a billion flames all over my body. Moms loved me regardless, even cried with me, held me. Dad turned away, said he wasn't dad to me. I was lonely. I wanted God to rescue me. Take me.

I let go and let God on my dormitory floor. Insense burning.

Tyson The downlow homo thug: Shawty was phat like that, had an ass I could grab on to while I dug deep in her guts with my thick nine purple dick. She screamed from the pleasure, yea I had them bitches whipped, addicted. They'd be all up in the salon reliving the conquest. My niggas would stand around me, ya know, thinkin' I was the man cuz' I always booked the baddest bitches and wore the flyest shit. I made a king pin look like a faggot. Lil fruity ass niggas would walk up and down my block, I wouldn't let em' get close. Wouldn't let one of them faggots look me in the eye.
He worked in the salon, did my girls hair once or twice. He said he wanted that fire, and shit, a sale is a sale. Money talks. He blew on the blunt, then blew on me...In the alley. My girl's best friend, Keisha, lost her bitch ass dog, musta ran in the alley. I didn't have time to get away, wasn't like she was wearing her stilettos like she usually did. Her Puma's barely made a sound against the pavement. The fag was on his knees and I was trying to get my True's up. Keisha screamed, "What the fuck?! You a faggot?" I'd never been called that in my life.
I'm a G.
I strangled that bitch. The fag ran away. The next morning, my girl told me what the salon faggot saw with his own eyes and the apology that he gave her.

I grabbed my .45

I always thought I'd die in the streets, but I was my own victim. What the fuck else could I do?

My manhood was compromised, I wasn't the faggot they'd think I was. I wouldn't have lived past the barber shop.

I didn't die like a G. But I would've lived a life as a faggot.

To the streets; Yo, I didn't mean for it to end like this.

No chalk outline, just my girl screaming.

But fuck what anyone say, I'm Tyson, King of the Streets, Slayer of the pussy.

Christian The ugly queen: I aint never have a problem with who I was. In middle school I had lip gloss, mase and a black belt. I wished a bitch would try me.

Cigarettes. I remember the burn.

The late queen from that other House was trying to slay me on the floor, she was mad because I got the trophy and she got embarassed. After the club, I was with my friends, laughing, I was in a good mood as always. Here come this late queen with her fake Gucci's and yellow teeth, coming for me. I grabbed my mase, but before I could spray, she dotted my face with the cigarette. It burned, everything went hazy then black. "Fat queen!" Thats all I kept hearing but shit I heard that my entire life. I got home past curfew because of that queen. Came home with burns all over my face. My brother called me a disgrace and punched me in my face. My mother said I deserved it and that all us faggots are animals. She always said that God was punishing her for having sex out of wedlock. I was her burden. She called me her burden. She handed me a bag and told me to pack. Started talking in that Jamaican dialect that I could never understand. She threw a Bible in the bag and threw her burden out in the streets.

I was homeless.

I was ugly.

I was fat.

I had diabetes.

And my so-called friends never helped me with those cigarette burns.

I took a stroll down the Brooklyn Bridge but I never got to the other side.

Inspired by real people, real situations.

Dedicated to all of us who never knew how to embrace ourselves

because no one told us that it was ok to do so.

Self love can save us all.

Love yourself. It's contagious.

Thursday, October 21, 2010

Reading the Real "Housewives" of Atlanta

Noticed any changes on the Real Housewives of Atlanta?
They're essentially replacements for the other two boring frauds, oops I mean wives, from the previous seasons...

Exit Lisa Woo Hartwell and Deshawn Snow. Enter stuck up prudish bitch #1 and 2

Phaedra Parks, a successful attorney, has represented "numerous" (pushing it) famous celebrities including Bobby Brown, but on the show, all we see her working with so far is some thug looking loser who has a marijuana possession charge. Do high profile attorneys represent such minor people with such minor offenses? I mean the guy looked like Red Kool Aid is his version of a Bloody Mary, I'm just saying. Phadrea does add some entertaining drama. She's polorizing like Kim Zolciak but not as triflin. She's a holier than thou, eye shadow overusing, diva bitch disguised as a southern bell. And her husband, though sexy, is more boring than she is, the most exciting thing about him is his tatted up biceps and criminal record. He's clearly not as successful nor as driven as she is. (usually walking around the kitchen in a tank top while she gets ready for work) I get the feeling that he married her to get access to the most beautiful women of Atlanta. ...Their pocket books that is... If he lands a more profitable vagina, he will divorce the bitch in a hot-flash. However, Phaedra did mention that he signed a pre-nup....Why she felt she had to divulge that information is beyond me. Sounds like a bitch is insecure. I'm just saying.

Cynthia Bailey is a self proclaimed super model who I've never seen or paid attention to, talking about she's been up there on the runway with the top models. She may have been but her personality sure hasn't garnered her Tyra or Kimora attention where she can hold her own on a reality show. She can't even hold my attention between blinks. The first few episodes barely even feature the bitch and when we do see her, she's bitching about how a guy wants to propose to her. (I can't even get dinner and a movie from a guy) She aint married, yet she's on a show about housewives, of course a lot of these "housewives" aren't married, but this bitch doesn't even want to get married nor is a divorcee like many of the others.
Cynthia and her commitment issues can be kicked off like yesterday!

Sheree finds herself a new man whose got a fat doctor bank account and a balding phenomenon that I've never witnessed before. A landing strip right down the center of his head, so pronounced, that I was waiting for Air Force One to land. Yes we can! And yes I did!

Nene opened the season with a hot breathed "you gave Greg 10 thousand dollars!?" rampage at a function; however it made me wonder if she was trying to pull what got Sheree so much attention last season. Remember the party planner? Yea the first episode was all about Sheree, and now this first episode was all about Nene and her attack on a defenseless little gay hobbit, oops I mean Dwight. (Calm down I'm gay!)

Is Greg sticking his AARP penis in Dwight's Latoya Jackson asshole on the downlow? I'm just asking...

Kim Zolciak and Kandi, the delusional "pop stars" of the show, provided musical interludes thoughout the season, but other than that, they were disposable. Kim provided some usual drama and if it wasn't for her, we wouldn't have been able to enjoy the eye candy at the gay white party that she performed her annoying, overplayed club hit "Tardy for the Party." She was almost tardy for her own damn performance in which Kandi ended up over-shadowing her in.
***Note to Kim, DON'T ASK A DEFUNCT R&B STAR TO ACCOMPANY YOU ON STAGE, THE BITCH IS LIKELY TO UPSTAGE YOU! (Kandi somehow thought that the gay shirtless dancers behind her were the ladies of Xscape)

It seems that every Bravo show has to have a token Queen (flamboyant homosexual)
And in ATL Housewives we get 2!
Dwight and the other Queen, forget her name, Sheree's hairstylist, informed Sheree quite matter-of-factly that Dwight is a "STUNT QUEEN" Which is popular terminology in the gay lifestyle defined as a person whose not as wealthy as they put on. Dwight wears polyester but if anyone asks, it's silk. He may have assisted with a few things at Sheree's fashion show last year, but if anyone asks, he spent $30,000 on the show. CATCH MY DRIFT...? Good.

And finally, I have to say that this season was not as exciting as season two, between Nene's televised nose job and Kandi's convenient musical endeavors, it seemed that the "Housewives" of Atl were a bit desperate this season.

Monday, October 4, 2010


"Have a baby by me baby, be a millionaire," was a hit song by gangster rapper 50 Cent that has since become an appropriate anthem for the era. A few years ago R&B singer Neyo, (who sang the hook on "Baby by Me") uplifted women with songs like "Miss Independent" and "You make me better," but it seemed to have fallen upon deaf ears and/or was overshadowed by the era of women having "babies by him" and becoming "millionaires" with fat child support checks that not only pay for the child's diapers, but for mommy's Coach bags and Jimmy Choos.
50 Cent was no doubt commenting on the rich-baby-daddy example that many of the hip-hop industries leading men seem to be. Who are their baby mamas? Defunct singers and actresses who can't get the lead role or the hit song.
What's the message that many young girls are getting? If you can't be "Miss Independent" then "have a baby by him and become a millionaire." A smart fix or a beginning of a disastrous trend?
Hip Hops 21st century rap king, Lil Wayne (Wayne Carter) delivered another womanizing hit in 2009 called "Every girl" where he candidly admitted that he would indeed like to "fuck" every girl in the world. The irony or in my opinion, tackiness of it all, was that in his reality it would seem that he indeed was fucking every girl in the world. When the song hit the charts, Mr. Carter had two women pregnant at the same time. Lauren London, a beautiful bi-racial "actress" (a stretch) who starred in the film "ATL" and has-been R&B singer Nivea whose claim to fame was singing about Laundromats and telling bitches not to "mess with her man." Well, honey, it looks like a bitch did mess with your man, and not just Lauren London, Lil Wayne has been linked to several models, video vixens and glamorized whores over his entire career, yet women like Nivea open their legs and gestate a baby that is just one product of Weezy's busy penis that is no doubt continuing to fuck every girl in the world.
And the most embarrassing part was that Mr. Carter was not in a committed relationship with either of the women, sure after they got pregnant did he put lipstick on the pig named Nivea, but she was still a pig or dare I say it, industry whore.
Nivea Hamilton, (age 28) of all people should have known better. This is the same woman who pumped out babies by successful R&B singer and producer The Dream (Terius Nash) Oh she was married to him? Sure she was married to him, but for less than three years. Three years of cheating. However during her cheating, she managed to have Dream's babies; Navy Talia (born May 10, 2005) and twin boys Chris and London (born 2006) Notice how one of their kids is named London, what foresight. I will not decrease the humanity of the children, they are innocent, but I will scrutinize the ratchetness of their industry whore mother. Shall we continue? We shall.
Coming to no surprise Nivea and her ATM machine divorced in 2007 so that she could properly continue to take Lil Wayne's rich black rapper dick. In late 2009, she birthed another baby, this time a bastard child named Neal and Lauren London released Weezy's other bastard, not long after.
The ratchetness didn't end there. Oh no, Christina Milian decided that Mr. Man-boobs AKA The Dream was going to pay her as well and they married early 2009, had a baby and soon divorced, this time due to The Dream who publically cheated with a woman who worked for him. They divorced and Christina, another R&B has-been like Nivea, became yet another industry baby mama child support check recipient.
It would be one thing if these women were workin their asses off and just happened to stumble on some late night drunken dick unprotected, but these women were unemployed, fired by their lables and in Laurens depressing case, overlooked by Hollywood casting agents. They were publically desperate and irresponsibly foolish.
And they STILL don't have jobs.
Especially Lauren. At least Nivea comes out with some cheap music videos once in a while with her half naked baby daddy Wayne. After birthing her bastard by Weezy, Lauren decided that her vagina needed more rich seed. Oh yes, she has a newborn and she can't stay out of Trey Songz bedroom long enough to give her baby a pasterfier.
That's right, Lauren London is ALLEGEDLY pregnant again with R&B star Trey Songz, seed.
But to anyone whose seen her in a maternity dress, its more than an allegation.
Ok slow down you say, don't put all the blame on the women. Yes there are cases like Halle Berry, who in her early 40s gets cum dumped into her aging vagina by a less successful European model who now enjoys VIP seating at night clubs and being a paid nanny for his own offspring. The Halle Berry pussy juice scented checks that he enjoys is a minority in the grand scheme of the game and in what young girls witness in the headlines. Young girls are using these women as examples, once it was the video vixen who got rich off of her falatio skills, nowadays it's, "fuck giving blowjobs, pop out some babies and tie that niggas Black Card to your account for life!"
Yes, young women are girating their Nicki Minaj asses in the clubs to "Daddy" by Twista. Yes, Twista profoundly instructs women that they need to call his fat sweaty ass daddy so that he can make it rain on them. No women, you don't need to get jobs and climb a corporate ladder, just call him daddy and make him a daddy. Have a bastard child and become a millionaire.
The message is all wrong and Neyo tried to save a hoe but it didn't work. Nicki came in with her insulting body image and Lauren and Nivea sold their uterus's in front of curious high school girls. These high schoolers sing along to Lil Wayne's "Every Girl" while watching little pubescent girls dance to the song on a 2009 BET award show next to Lil Wayne who included his own impressionable daughter in the controversial performance. These high school girls then proceed to call men daddy in the club that they used their fake ID to get into.
Babies are precious, innocent and full of potential, they do not represent their parents mistakes, but if they grow up in an environment of half brothers and sisters and drug using/women abusing musicians, then their outlook on the progression of life is bound to be a bit flawed.
The music industry is worse than Satan at this point. It spews out negative messages that aren't even subliminal. The lyrics to the music dictate that young girls allow Wayne and his possy to fuck them and young boys who listen to this crap are inspired to become these ballers who make their hoes rich off their dick. Buying a woman a "Make up Bag" as The Dream puts it, is not what the message should be. Women are not just something to buy and children should not equate to pay day. Women like defunct R&B singer Kelis are in the headlines moreso for their uterus and rich baby daddy than for their art form and contribution to humanity. The contribution that many young women are told to give to the world is a PHAT ASS and an OPEN MOUTH. Then write a book about it and get paid from the child support checks and the book sales.
This is a state of emergency for our youth an for the music/film industry.
We are all responsible for ourselves and our own children but lets be real, the celebrities do have a major impression on the youth, moreso than their parents/guardians who aren't home as much nowadays because they hold two or three jobs with this recession we are in. Children nowadays aren't looking like children at all with their style of dress and fast talking lips. They have I phones and blackberries that give them access to "HOEBOOK" and all things adult.
This is not meant to be a sermon moreso a list of observations but I will leave you with this; We are all responsible for each other. We are one humanity.