In old news today, a fella named Farhad Manjoo who writes for Slate did a piece called “How Black People Use Twitter“. He came to the facinating conclusion that Negroes use the social networking site to network socially. It was the equivalent of the time that White folks discovered that sweet potato pie is our de facto brown-veggie based custard pie at the holidays, as opposed to pumpkin. Not exactly earth shattering, but fascinating to some. What REALLY set people to cutting up was the accompanying illustration: a rendering of the Twitter bird logo wearing a fitted hat with a hashtag on it. A “fail whale” draped with the Pan-African flag may have been more fitting.

A lot of other bloggers hit the nail on the head about the whole ‘Black people are not monkeys in an online cage. We just would like to continue living, loving and laughing without being othered by random strangers’ thing, so I didn’t feel the need to take it on (though I do want to raise a public eyebrow to the fact that the dude who wrote the article is non-White and yet he seems to see the world in terms of ‘White as normative’, which is bizarre).  And some SPECTACULARLY IGNANT BROWN TWITTER BIRDS were created. It was funny beyond measure. If you want to read more, check out this, this, this and this.

Now, Afro-Twitter IS already using the site as a resource to pass along information about important stories that don’t get enough run from the mainstream media. Much like the blogosphere, the #browntwitterbird kept us informed about the Oscar Grant case, the death of Mitrece Richardson, the Black August events taking place this month…along with some pop culture and social commentary stuff that may not be as weighty, but is specific to *us* and how we do.  And you have people like me who use the site as part of these agressive low-budget marketing campaigns to push their writing, music, films, etc. This didn’t make the Slate story and that’s fine, because that’s why we have Afro-Twitter anyway, right?

On my end, I’m thinking…we got White folks-and people who perhaps think they are White folks- real fascinated by what we are doing online…maybe we need to kick it up a notch. ‘Invisible man’ tweets and got the whole world watching…perhaps we need to do some tricks. We are a creative and crafty people.  This has inspired me to dust off the whole “Five For Friday” format and pitch a few ideas that will help us take Afro-Twitter to the next level.  Let’s get get tweet it!

1) Twitter Families: Black folks are notorious for having lots of cousins, play cousins and the proverbial ’auntie’s best friend’s daughter’s neighbor who is just like a sister to us’. Perhaps we can form extended families on the Twitter, which will lead to Twincest, Twanksgiving dinner, Big Mama speeches and fabulous family reunion shirt-avatars each summer. And for those of us who don’t have big Madea-esque families (*sob*), it may give us something to hold on to. This Twitter family has got to be that fist!

2) A Twitter Numbers Runner: We can bring it back to the days of the policy wheel, which made a lot of your aunties and cousins real fancy on the block. People can play their number each week and pay the number runner via PayPal. Um…this is as good a time as any to remind y’all about making those monthly donations to The Beautiful Struggler fund, right? If we get the Twitter policy wheel going, y’all get to play your first book free.

3) Twitter Record Labels:Because all Black people must be involved in the creation of a record label at some point in their lives (hell, people send ME demos like I’m an A&R and like I ain’t been listening to the same damn Albert Brown records since 1993, but okay…), we can just get this out of the way while we on Twitter. My label is gonna be called “No Limit Toldja Records”. Ughhhhhh….na, na, na, na.

4) Twitter Car Clubs: Now, where I’m from (C-H-I-C-A-G-O), membership in a car club is based upon ownership of a particular make and/or model of whip. For example, the Renegade Cavalier Club. Where I live right now (Planet Brooklyn), the clubs are simply for people who are owners of cars. That’s all it takes. There is a fella around my place of work that pushes an Astro-Van that is not only branded with his club’s logo, but also features a permanent tribute to Michael Jackson (of which I am NOT mad at). As a non-driver of anything, I don’t have a vote on which sort of car club Twitter picks. I will just player hate from the sidelines bus stop.  Just make sure you put your @-sign on the window very clearly, so I can tweet my hate.

5) Twitter Adoption:This may fall under the ‘family’ suggestion, but I think it deserves it’s own category. You know how our grandmothers are for scooping somebodies fast-tail daughter or knucklehead son off the block? Well, perhaps we can use this online. I see some people on my own timeline I’d like to re-raise myself. Take their tweets in and mold them with some good old-fashioned. This Twitter family has got to be that fist!

What other suggestions do you all have for using the Twitter to bring our Blacks’ Magic to our legions of adoring fans and pesky reporters?

Friday, Friday, glorious Friday!

I had a weightier topic in mind for today, but I have already emotionally shifted gears to weekend-mode. So iCan’t and iWon’t go there until Monday. However, I do have something bearing heavy on my heart and I need to share. Has anybody seen my childhood? Oh, there it is on YouTube, rolling through the hood and smoking trees:

ARE YOU SERIOUS? “Mr. Calvin from 227″?  Gain Green Records??? And really, Christopher Williams riding shotgun in Ed Hardy Couture? What did I do to deserve this? Some people should make a comeback, but others need to stay gone so that I might preserve the image I had of them in my heart.  That said, can we get Bumper Robinson into a safe house? I just can’t bear the thought of Clarence ending up on a Smack DVD doing hoodrat things with Tevin Campbell. Christopher still looks good though.

If you’d like to catch up on my latest work, here’s a recap. I’m grinding hard in these internets:

A Modest Proposal+ The Second Worst I Ever Had: Support the Struggler, so that she may continue to provide wicked social commentary…and tragic date stories such as this one (appears right here at home, baby)

Bottom Heavy- What if you’re a Black woman, but don’t have a “Black woman’s body”? (via Clutch)

Can Sex Really Be Casual?- My take on the age old debate for my new ”Girl On Top” sex column ( via Madame Noire)

Cease and Desist: Flo Rida- Flo Rida makes Bryant Gumble look like Jay-Z. I want him gone. (via Blind I)

Over Concious- ‘Concious’ is a silly word for rappers, let’s let it go. (via Soul Train)

Support Kevin Powell for Congress- I have a lot of respect for this brother and I urge you to take a look at his campaign and get involved (again, right here at The Struggler)

Thanks to everyone for their support this week and always! Have a great weekend and I’ll see you Monday for a discussion of the fallacy of “reverse racism”. #nosuchthing

I got hip to The Boondocks comic strip when I was in high school. You know that feeling Roberta Flack described in “Killing Me Softly”, the whole “singing my life with his words” thing? Yeah, Aaron McGruder gave me alla that. I’d read the strip online daily, print it out and share it with my parents, hang it up in my locker. I bought every collection of strips that came out and totally obsessed over all things Boondocks. I was extremely hyped about the animated series…until it aired. It’s funny, where the strip was hilarious and smart, where the print comic was brilliant. I have some other complaints too, but overall, I just find the show to be decent.

But then you have this week’s episode, “Pause” (CLICK HERE TO WATCH). McGruder takes on both Tyler Perry and the “pause”/”no homo” phenomenon in one fell swoop. Brilliant. Hilarious. And, most of all, courageous. The writer isn’t hardly the first one to criticize Mr. Perry’s work publicly; Spike Lee has done it and lesser known writers go at him all the time. But McGruder goes in quite differently than anything I’ve seen or read thus far.

The plot: Granddad decides to audition for a “Winston Jerome” play. We learn through Huey’s narration that Jerome’s plays typically feature an educated, successful and virtuous Black woman trapped in an unhappy marriage to an abusive dark complexioned man, until she is saved by Jesus and the love of a light-skinned blue collar man.  Granddad is chosen as the “light-skinned, good haired” leading man in “Ma’ Finds Herself A Man” because he’s Jerome’s type. He then finds himself forced to join the playwright’s “homo-erotic Christian theatre cult” (I TOLD YOU HE WENT IN!) and temporarily abandons his family for the chance at stardom.

McGruder nails the likely reason a lot of actors reduce themselves to the Perry factory via a brief appearance by Kadeem Hardison as himself. Sitting next to Grandpa at the audition, he quips “What, I’m supposed to wait for the next Akeelah And The Bee to pay my mortgage?” He also lampoons the way in which Perry seems to use his relationship with Jesus as his line of defense for any criticism of his work:” …(I) would never ever kiss a man. That would be homosexual and against my Christian faith. But Jesus wants us to be actors first and heterosexuals second…but when I go on stage, Jesus wants me to become (Ma’Dukes)…“, quoth Jerome in his attempt to convince Grandpa to kiss him on stage.

Mark Anthony Neal, one of my favorite writers, wasn’t so impressed with the episode. He found there to be a strain of homophobia running through McGruder’s depiction of Perry, who he paints as an impossibly effeminate tyrant who finally confesses at the end that he “made up the cross dressing Christian cult” to sleep with men. I disagree. I didn’t see it as “look at this silly gay man” so much as “look at the irony of this *allegedly* gay and somewhat effeminate man, dressing up as a woman and telling the world that Jesus wants him to help women by dressing up as one“. Now, I do acknowledge that by taking Tyler’s mannerisms and cross-dressing as evidence that he’s gay is an act of heteronormalizing, which is counterproductive to fighting homophobia. But I don’t see hateful homophobia in McGruder ‘s “it looks like a duck, talks like a duck, the blogs say they’ve seen him out with other ducks…it’s a duck” presumptions about Perry’s sexuality. Furthermore, I abandon any sympathy I would have held for Perry in wake of McGruder loudly rapping on his closet door due to the awkward gay jokes and a big homophobic OMG moment in WDIGM2.

Was it a cheap shot? Perhaps. Mean-spirited? Quite possibly. But when you have a figure as ridiculous as Perry is in the eyes of those who aren’t drinking his “Kool-Aid”, it’s not hardly surprising that someone like McGruder (the counter-cultural militant Afro-nerd) took it there. He doesn’t need a few phone calls from Perry’s people to get him on any blacklist. The domination of Perry is an automatic roadblock for someone making the sort of snarky, intelligent work that is the McGruder brand. And while Perry himself is not to blame as much as his millions of loyal consumers, I don’t see the problem in the comic tossing a few sharp rocks at the figurehead that represents all that he hates.

From Neal’s essay:

“….In the end we are left with a brilliantly funny episode, that offers little with regards to meaningful cultural criticism. To go hard at Tyler Perry, is not to present him as some freak—as suggested in the camp nod to The Rocky Horror Picture Show midway through the episode—that is marginal to the mainstream of Black America. The reality is Perry’s success and influence is buttressed by a nation of millions, who buy upscale cars, beach-front time shares, worship in mega-churches and dutifully believe in heterosexual desire (at the very least the performance of it) or, perhaps most importantly, aspire to those things. To go hard at Perry is to go hard at us—and in that regard, McGruder didn’t even live up to his own reputation. Perhaps that might explain, why this is the last season of The Boondocks.”

I will agree to some extent that the more important criticism regarding Tyler Perry’s work is that which engages Tyler Perry’s audience. For all the times we’ve tossed around the words “cooning” and “low-brow” in regards to his brand, he does have a large number of class mobile, educated Black patrons .  I think that by skwereing Perry’s constant assertation that he has Jesus ‘on the mainline’ (literally: in the episode, we see a number of “phone conversations” between Jerome and Christ), he identifies one of the biggest reasons that Perry fans are so loyal and so willing to overlook inadequacies in scriptwriting, plot, direction, etc. There is also the demand from many Black audience members for “positive” entertainment, which McGruder subtly nods to this via local buppie Tom DuBois’ gushing over Ma’Dukes plays for not using the N-word.  The irony in that is that Perry’s reliance on hackneyed stereotypes and his troubling portrayal of gender dynamics aren’t “positive” at all. They aren’t innoctuous, either. For all the protheltyizing and self-agrandization in regards to his calling to tell Black (women’s) stories, Perry’s work reinforces a lot of complete BS about Black folks.

McGruder didn’t explore or engage the Perry audience on any truly in-depth level, but I definitely found it to be “meaningful cultural criticism”. By pointing out some of the glaring absurdities of that which “Tyler Perry Presents”, he has given the audience the option to examine think criticially about these ‘positive’ works of art media. As far as Perry criticism goes, if Hilton Als’ “Mama’s Gun” is the honors thesis, then “Pause” is the snarky video the kids in the A/V club. The cartoon medium frees McGruder up to be more silly and sardonic and it doesn’t quite lend itself to the sort of dissection Als’ was able to accomplish in print. Both are valid and worthy of the conversation about this man and his homo-erotic Christian empire. This is the Aaron McGruder I grew to love in print and I hope that he either changes his mind about ending the series or chooses a new method for getting his biting criticism to the masses.

Next on deck- Perry, McGruder and this whole Jesus thing…who’s really wrong: the guy lampooning the Christian filmmaker or the one cross-dressing for the Lord? Stay tuned.

As we all know. the Single Black Woman Scare of 2010 hit a ‘crescendo of irrelevance’ (phrase mercilessly jacked from my hero, Melissa Harris-Lacewell) via a Nightline special which aired this past Wednesday.  A motley crew of your cousins, including Sherri Sheppard, Steve Harvey, Jimi Izreal and others were allowed to embarrass us in front of some White folks as they saw fit in the interest of their careers   making me upset God knows what.  I offered my thoughts about the premise of the show in advance here and here, but I chose not to watch in the interest of preserving my own blood pressure. I’m selfish like that.

Since Nightline has been so kind as to put Black women’s “issues” at the forefront of the national consciousness, I thought I’d come up with a few equally reasonable ideas for their next round table discussion.

1. Presidents George W. Bush and Bill Clinton join ex-FEMA director Michael Brown for “How Haiti Can Rebuild”: Bush and Brown can use all the hands-on information they learned through their response to Hurricane Katrina and Clinton can use his expertise from the years he spent helping Haiti to, er…well…
2. Tyler Perry Presents “Tyler Perry’s Panel on How Black Women Can Better Themselves, Child“: Perry can reprise his Medea role and serve as a moderator for a panel of assorted Black men and women, also played by Perry. This could be an excellent opportunity for him to explain plainly to us his belief that class mobile Black women are the architects of their own inevitable unhappiness and how we can all score a blue collar man to come save us from our successes and sadness. Plus, Madea! It will be the first romantic-dramedy-suspense-Gospel panel in the history of television.
3. Clarence Thomas, Michael Steele, Soulja Boy Tell’em and Bryan “Baby” Williams talk “Black Masculinity in the Age of Obama”: Nightline, y’all know y’all just want to make Black people look completely insane anyway. Here’s a freebie. Have at it.
4. Sarah Palin, Ann Coulter, Donnie McClurkin and Rush Limbaugh on “The Demise of the American Family”: Do you know how epic this could be?  Sister Donnie would have that wrist flying all across the stage talking about gay vampires. The conservative Betty and Veronica would be placed at odds over that whole “single mothers are ruining the world” meme Coulter subscribes to, given that Palin’s fast-tailed daughter popped one or two out before finishing high school. The whole thing might be so exciting for Limbaugh that he has a heart attack…but will he even GO to a hospital with all the Obama Care everywhere? Please let this happen. Please.
5. Solar faces off with Hip Hop journalists to explain his contribution to Guru’s legacy: Okay, so most of Nightline’s audience probably doesn’t know who Guru was in the first place, but ABC isn’t above a running with a salacious story. This could give Guru’s partner an opportunity to inform us what exactly it is that he has ever done musically that makes him the true gatekeeper of Keith Elam’s musical legacy and why DJ Premier should somehow be prohibited from tributes to the work he himself did with Gang Starr. Inquiring minds want to know. Me thinks Hip-Hop heads should brace themselves for a teachable moment they aren’t quite ready to handle. Now that I think about it, this story makes too much sense to end up on Nightline.

Speaking of, the loss of Guru was certainly a devastating one to heads everywhere this week. I still can’t really believe that he’s gone. I’ll always appreciate Guru  not simply for his talent and the work he did with Gang Starr, but for the number of Jazz musicians I was introduced to through his Jazzmatazz records AND for constantly featuring one of my favorite female vocalists of all time, N’Dea Davenport. His brother penned a very loving tribute to him for Boston.com, which you can read here. On that note, I’ll leave you with two of my favorite tunes from the legendary Gifted Unlimited Rhymes Universal:

“Trust Me” f/N’Dea Davenport, from Jazzmatazz Vol. 1

“Above The Clouds” f/Inspectah Deck, from Moment Of Truth

Pssst- have you checked out My Name Ain’t Yo yet? DO IT!

It seems like everyone and their mother (literally) is popping up with a reality show, from the famous, to the used to be famous and even the “why in the HELL are they famous“. It’s been almost 10 years since reality programing totally took off and given the cost effectiveness of it, don’t expect to see the genre waning any time soon.

That said, if you gonna do it…do it! This weeks Five For Friday- my suggestions for televisions next reality stars.

1) The DeBarges

Fame, family, tragedy, drug abuse…El, Chico  and ‘nem have one hell of a story. The fall of the house of DeBarge is one of the saddest head-scratchers of musical history. Perhaps a reality show could do them some good and get them the sort of recognition they deserve from a new audience. I’d also be interested in some anecdotes about how Chico faired in prison when he went in looking like this:

.

He must ain’t do too bad, because he came out looking like:

2) Eddie Murphy and Kin

Not a single celebrity EVER has a more interesting story than Eddie Murphy: he is the baby father of Scary Spice; his ex wife dates Michael Strahan; his daughter dates Pleasure P from Pretty Ricky;  he was married to Tracey Edmonds, ex-wife of Babyface, for two weeks…and speaking of R&B singers, he’s BFF’s with Johnny Gill. And then there’s the transvesite thing. And “Party All The Time“. And this:

Plus, Charlie Murphy would end up on the show at some point, for the hilarity WIN. This show needs to happen yesterday.

3) New Edition

SPEAKING of Johnny, picture this-”The true story of six R&B singers asked to live in a house, confront their past beefs and record a comeback album that negates the existence of the embarrassing embarrassingly dreadful One Love“…  Bobby has done at least three reality shows, he’d do it. Johnny would probably do it in hopes of clearing up those pesky rumors and be all closet queen everything and fight with Bobby over lead vocals. Ralph could make the faces he makes in the above video when Bobby talks (btw, is he physically morphing into Rakim?). Mike and Ronnie could come to the terms with the fact that they can sing, but they damn sure can’t rap.  Ricky can explain how this video got made. I would love it and so would you.

4) Erykah Badu

I know Miss Badu would never do a reality show and she really doesn’t need to do one. But just imagine how entertaining it would be. She’s pretty damn funny, smart as a whip and a touch insane. Folks would see that her family life with her kids is probably a lot more normal than they’d like to believe. She’d say some occasional WTF stuff and we could see the creative process behind her music. Unfortunately for us, I think Erykah has a bit too much class and dignity to do a reality program.

5) Sister Toldja

…but I don’t! My life is pure shenanigans, you should see it! Actually, it’s more like occasional shenanigans. But it’s pretty entertaining. My friends are crazy. My family is craaaaaaazy. And I am the perfectly normal piece of connective tissue that makes them all work. Yup. And I fall down a lot, which would make for some heartwarming “very special” episodes, live from the ratchet ER of Interfaith Hospital. Vote for me, dangit!

A big shout out to Sir Fabulous Himself, SisterHotChocolateChiBK, Sister Detroit Red and Sister Head Mistress, who are participating in the Brooklyn Biathalon this Sunday. I woulda did it too, but I can’t ride a bike…see, yet another reason I need a show!

Finally, I ask again that you keep the families and friends of Mike and Nia in your prayers. Please go to www.lovemikenia.com and find out ways to be of assistance during this unfortunate time.

Have a safe weekend!

This week, Tyler Perry announced the cast of his film version of For Colored Girls Who’ve Considered Suicide When The Rainbow Is Enuf. It’s an impressive list of actresses and I was relieved to the absence of Beyonce, who was part of his original dream cast. Is anyone who considers Beyonce to be part of their dream cast for anything other than a concert fit to write and direct FCG? I say hell no, but people don’t listen to me.  For all my concerns about Perry’s ability to make this movie, there really isn’t much else I can say about it until it comes out. I hope he surprises us all by hiring some real writers and a director to do it for him.

I have been inspired by Perry’s choice to step out of his box and take on such an important piece of Black female literature. If he can do that, then perhaps I need to leave my own comfort zone and enter his world. For years, I have toyed with the idea of writing a chitlin show of my own. Perry’s fearlessness and willingness to turn an Ntozake Shange play in to a film, without ever displaying any evidence that he is capable of READING Shange and understanding her…that’s bravery. And I, too, wish to be brave.

That said, here is the first peek at my upcoming theatrical stageplay “Boo Ate All The Biscuits, What Is We Gon’ Do“.

I have my Boo in mind already.

Act 1, Scene 1

(Int. BIG MAMA’s DINING ROOM. The family is seated at the table eating dinner.)

Big Mama: (yelling to Boo offstage) Boo, while you in the kitchen, brang me some Kool-Aid and get them biscuits out the oven!

Boo: Yes, Big Mama!

Lil’ Jo: Whooooo WEE, Big Mama! You done put yo’ FOOT in ‘dis heah frieeeeed chicken!

(Pause for audience laughter)

ShaLaTaRaManda: You know I can’t be eating all this chicken, I’m trying to get in shape, I’m trying to be in that new Gucci video as soon as gets out of jail! I gots to be looking tight! (Stands up and runs her hands up and down her size 22-frame.)

Big Jo’: Them pants is looking tight on yo’ big ass belly, I know that!

(Pause for audience laughter)

ShaLaTaRaManda: Big Jo, I know you not talking ’bout NOBODY! Everybody know you messing with that fo’ hunnid pound girl who work at the Social Security, so how you crackin’ jokes on me?

Big Jo’: You damn right I am! And with her big check, she by her some big clothes that fit her big ass!  Meanwhile, you got lost on the way to Lane Bryant and musta found The Children’s Place!

(Pause for audience laughter)

Uncle Roscoe: Will y’all just stop talking so bad about each other? Big Jo’, that’s yo’ sister. Just because she got grown woman titties in a baby tee don’t mean you can make her feel bad. Now, stop fo’ she be done stabbed you again.

(Pause for audience laughter)

ShaLaTaRaManda: And you know I will! (Pulls out straight razor and does ‘The Humpty Dance’)

(Pause for audience laughter)

LaToya: I would like to say, as a successful and unhappy middle class lawyer with my own BMW, I am just so tired of coming over here and watching you all act so ghetto.

ShaLaTaRaManda: Here you go wit’ alla that junk! All yo’ money you got and all yo’ book learning, why you don’t got a man? If you so successful, why you always got time to come over here and look down on us?

LaToya: Because you are still my family and a family is supposed to be a fist and…well, Big Mama CAN fry her some chicken!

(Pause for audience laughter)

Big Mama: I swear fo’ Jesus, y’all gon raise my pressure today! Now, somebody pass me the salt.

Lil’ Jo: Here you go, Big Mama. Hey, Big Mama, where’s Boo?

Big Mama: I ain’t seen him since I asked him to go get me the biscuits and Kool-Aid. Boo? What’s taking you so long?

Boo: Um…ain’t no biscuits in here, Big Mama.

(The entire table stops eating and gets silent)

ShaLaTaRaManda: What you MEAN ain’t no biscuits? I put them in the oven myself!

Big Mama: Lawd, I can’t do this today! Please give me strength! Big Jo’, go in there and see what Boo is talking about.

(Big Jo’ walks offstage and returns quickly, dragging with him Boo, who is carrying an empty plate. He has jelly smeared across his face.)

Big Jo’: Big Mama! Big Mama! Do you see this? Boo done ate all the biscuits!

(Pause for audience gasp)

Big Mama: (Clutches chest) All of ‘em? He ate all of em?

ShaLaTaRaManda: Boo, tell them you ain’t do it! Where they at, Boo? Tell us who did this! I know you ain’t eat all them, I just know you aint!

Lil’ Jo: (Gets out of seat, walks up to Boo) He got biscuits on his breath, jelly on his face and crumbs on his plate. I ain’t never been to the CSI, but I think Boo ate all them biscuits.

Big Mama: This can’t be life! This can’t be my family! Lawd! Boo don ate all the biscuits! WHAT IS WE GON’ DO?

Please be gentle in the comments. I’m an artist and I’m sensitive about my stuff.

Friday. Weekend. Thankful. Almost didn’t make it.

This week’s FFF= Things other folks seem to enjoy, but I am either confused or turned off by. Rock onward.

1) Get Lost? I Don’t.

How long has this show been on? I’ve never seen it. But I feel like it’s been on for a real long time and I can tell from what I have heard that these people are still “lost”. This begs the question ‘how long are you lost before you simply don’t live where you used to live anymore?’ I left home in 2002, but I wouldn’t do a show about myself today and called it “Left Home”.  Lost needs to be called “This Where We Live Now”.

2) Lacefrontin’

Mary, Mary. QUITE contrary.

For all the jokes on the interwebs about lacefronts, CLEARLY your cousins don’t see a problem with them. I see more than I can count on two hands on a daily basis and it makes me sad. I’m not saying every single lacefront is bad, but it seems that the vast majority of them are obscene. Beyonce, Tyra and Mary have all been caught in some hella bogus ones…and they can afford the BEST wigs out there. So how Shay Shay ‘nem think a $19.99 quick lace kit is gonna look Kosher, I don’t quite comprehend. There are so many good wig and weave options out there, I just find it troubling that so many sisters would say that wearing any piece of plastic foolishness > their own hair.

3) Free WHAT?

This person is Rev. Run’s son. And while I, as a rule, demand extreme greatness from the children of rich entertainers who choose to take on the family biz (you shouldn’t be marginal with every advantage handed to you, sorry), I do want to pinch his widdle cheeks. He’s adorable! Not cool with him saying “nigga” considering his relative youth and the fact that he invariably has a very diverse audience, but he’s totes adorbs. It was time for a little Black boy teen heartthrob crush material for the little sisters. BUT, um…this isn’t a freestyle. You and I both know, this is not a freestyle. And the fact that he calls it a freestyle makes me upset. Rev. Run will not be pitted line for line with Rakim at any point, but I think he and the folks he came up with shoulda exposed lil’ homie to enough to prevent such a grievous jack fake. Just call it what it is, Diggy: a remake. If he brings down some Jonas Brothers posters in the hood, I guess I can deal with it nonetheless.

4)The Farmer in the Hell

I’ve never seen the actually Farmville Facebook application (game?), but I see that seemingly sane people are logging on to their computers and virtually throwing sheep at unsuspecting cool kids such as myself. I’m so confused. Please don’t do this to me. I would know throw things at you in real life. Please don’t do it to me in play life, okay? No more requests for Texas Hold ‘Em Poker or virtual anything else. Twitter is my black tar heroin of choice, kids. I’m lamed out.

And finally…

5) Y’all Ears Broke?

Disclaimer: I am often on the wrong side of what’s popular when it comes to music. I think Usher’s “Yeah” is one of the worst ever songs to exist in the history of songs, worst and ever. As much as I think it’s cool that Mariah came back from her mini fall from grace, I hate everything she’s had on the radio post 1997 (except for that inspirational song from the last record, that joint goes hard!). It’s not me being a music snob at ALL- I think my love of all things New Jack Swing defies that idea. I just like what I like and that’s not most of what I hear by far. For the LIFE of me, I can’t figure this one out:

WHAT IN THE WORLD IS THIS AND WHY DO GROWNUPS LIKE IT? It sounds like soundtrack to a kiddie porn. It sounds like Kidz Bop. It sounds like losing your virginity in the ballpit at Chuck-E-Cheese. And I expect children to like it because they have awful taste in music and have been exposed to little else anyway (I was cool as a kid, I liked Wu-Tang and Frankie Beverly. Just saying.) But you so called grownups rocking to this? Y’all need to be shamed, for real. I shouldn’t judge your taste, but I am. I’m judging HARD.

Well, that’s all for me. Have a fun, super fun weekend and I’ll see you on the other side!

Yay! It’s Friday. And FINALLY, we are straight East Coastin’ with no snow. I hate snow.  I hate it a lot. Snow probably killed me in a past lifetime. Though we seem to be having a better couple of days, I can’t get past how bad it’s been these past few weeks. This may be the worst winter of all times, ALL TIMES.

Am I the only one who cannot say "of all time" without recalling this?

Well…maybe not of all time, but certainly since I fled the snowy gates of snow hell known as Chicago some eight years ago. Global warming, melting polar ice caps, El Nino…I’m not even going to pretend I have a clue why it’s happening. I just want it to be over. I’ve spent the past 4 or 5 weeks fantazizing about what I am gonna do as soon as the pretty weather hits. Come with me on a little trip to fantasy island, as I plan out summer 2010.

Say what, new reader? You thought it was all Race E. McGender-Talk on here? Please, I’d probably be under the jail by now if I didn’t take some time off from thinking about that stuff. Today, all silly everything- like most of my posts were in 2007. Oh, how I long for the good old days.

Five For Friday: Soon As I Get Warm

1) From The Rind To The…Um, Other Rind

I'm actually flush with excitement just looking at this.

I love watermelon. Truly, madly, deeply. I always have and I always will.  When I was in high school, I went through a brief period when I didn’t like buying it in front of White people. Of all the fruits in the store, why would I have to pick the one with the stereotypical baggage? So I’d grab my little kiwis and strawberries and try to go unnoticed by some people who probably weren’t paying me any attention in the first place. Adult Toldja don’t give a what! Watermelon is my favorite fruit. I would like to dive inside of one and eat my way out, I kid you not. The second they come back in season domestically, I’m going IN.

2) Folks Get Brown In The Sunshine

My sister and I last summer. All caramel everything!

My desire to brown up for the summer isn’t some bemoaning of light skin or a quest for “authetic” Blackness; I’m Black as Dead Mike on even the darkest day of the year, holla. But something about that extra rush of color in the summer is just so wonderful. I can’t wait to layout on a beautiful beach somewhere far away and get brown! And by “far away” I mean that beach we went to in Queens that one time and it is far away, cause I never go past Broadway Junction on the C. It was at least 5 stops after Broadway Junction.

Locals recognize the YELLOW SIGN OF FAIL.

Speaking of the train, I live in New York and thus, I am reliant upon the MTA to get around. I do not know what MTA stands for, but I’d assume it means “Might Take All day” or “Meeting Time Abolished” or “My Train’s Awful”. Since I tend to handle most of my business in Central Brooklyn, I use warm weather as an excuse to walk everywhere and leave the Mighty Terrible Antics of the local trains and buses alone. I walk faster than the G train runs anyway.

4) Shake, Not Bake

I love fact that summer makes it harder for me to overindulge in comfort food and fall off from my workouts.  When there’s two feet of snow on the ground, who wants to trudge to the gym when you can curl up with some chocolate chip cookies and watch Wyatt Cenac on The Daily Show? I’ve been dragging myself to my workouts lately, but I look forward to the days when that no longer means waiting on a bus stop with frostbitten fingers afterward.  And when you don’t workout in the summer, there’s still plenty of moving and walking and living keeping you active.

Awkward time to mention this, but my SweetHoney Desserts are available all year round (with warm weather friendly treats like lemon bars to roll out this summer). You should never say no to them. Order them with reckless abadnon, you only live once.

5)  Dress Free

As my friends can tell you, I am the patron saint of skirts and dresses. I do not own any pants aside from sweats for working out and bad weather errand running and leggings. The “leggings even pants” debate, we can have another time. I’ll say that this style of dress is pretty darn hard to keep up during the winter months.  I sometimes have on two pairs of leggings and/or two pairs of tights under my clothes. It’s not fun at all. Then you have your coat, gloves, scarves…all that rubbish drives me up a wall. Fall layers are fun. Winter layers remind me of that episode of the Cosby Show when Rudy had on that snow suit.

I know this isn't from that episode but just...awww!

You kids have a safe weekend and don’t forget- next Wednesday is Happy Black Girl Day the Second. Drop me a line via the contact form if you want to get the reminder email and/or if you plan to participate via your own blog/Twitter page.

My brain is just clogged with Black girl pain and police brutality and the absurdity of an increasingly racist “Post-Racial America”. I’m on a little bit of a mental vacation, I hope you don’t mind indulging me a little bit until my mind resumes sharpness.

Last night, I had a strange dream. I, along with Oprah and another woman who I cannot recall, were proposed to by our boyfriends. We were to have a triple wedding and we only had two weeks to prepare, per Oprah’s request. There was no mention of her fortune or her paying for the wedding; she was still famous, but she was just a lady that I happened to be friends with.

I think her and Gayle do need a third Musketeeer. Pick ME, O!

My boyfriend was a guy that I was only casually seeing and he looked like my latest crush, the talented and handsome Wyatt Cenac. *swoon*

I will be his Medicine For Melancholy anytime, any place.

The fella and I were only casually dating and I wasn’t head over heels. But I thought he was a really good person. I weighted the proposal and decided to accept on the grounds that I worried that I wouldn’t receive any more proposals and this could be my only chance to be married. I was super excited about using the word “fiancee” and said it about ten times. I walk away from my beau and headed to run some errands. I looked at my barren hand and ran back to my fiancee (I liked typing that…le sigh) and said “Hey, I don’t have a ring or a dress…not that I want you to think I’m materialistic. I just always wanted those two things. We’ll work it out somehow.” Then I woke up.

Does anyone have ANY clue what this all may mean? I did recently reflect on the words of my late grandmother, Anne Osborne-Brice-Bismyer-Bozza, who told me not to accept the first proposal I received (she claimed to have had about 12 total, and I believe it). I can’t say I’d reject a proposal because it was the first one I got if I was really in love with the guy. Grandmother didn’t know anything about “single Black educated tragic lonely” life, but I do think her words would be wise to heed were I only weighing marriage because I was afraid of not being asked again. There was happiness in the dream, but there was so much fear (i.e. not feeling confident about asking for a ring or a dress). I think I’m pretty optimisitic in real life, so what is my subconcious telling me?

What say you?

I don’t eat chicken.*Pauses to allow whomever may have fallen out of their chair to get seated again* Now, I’m no PETA member (being vegan is cool, but please find a saner organization to align yourself with, veggie people). I don’t abstain from meat to “save the dang chipmunk“, but rather, myself.

You see, I know that I’m not capable of a poultry diet that is limited to baked chicken or lean cuts of turkey. Oh no. I’d be the one scouring the city for buffalo wing happy hours every pay day. I can’t withstand that temptation. I can do certain things in moderation, but other things, I have to just go without. I will eat chicken wings or turkey burgers once a year though. I joke a lot about my hatred for pork, which will NEVER touch mine lips again. And I will continue to rib (HUZZAH) those who sully their selves with swine. What can I say, we had a recitation about this when I was a kid: “Swine on your mind. Pork on your fork. Pig makes you big.”

That said, while I respect and understand that plenty of people can enjoy the occasional fried chicken box and live a healthy life, I see a lot of evidence of fried chicken abuse and I am calling shenanigans. Every time I walk by my local Popeyes’ (yes, plural), there is some fooltastic sale going on. “12 Pieces for $6!”, “2 Wings for $1!”, “You ain’t got no money? Well, just come in and we’ll figure something out!”

Can’t truss it.

I watched Popeye, the cartoon, when I was a child. He ate spinach. Lots and lots of Spinach. That’s how he got strong and saved his gal from Brutus. In fact, his girlfriend’s name was Olive Oyl! Olive Oil is good for you! It provides good cholesterol and helps prevent heart disease. Spinach and olive oil! This is good stuff! Popeyes’ don’t sell neither of those things. The only “vegetable” sides they have are corn on the cob (which is NOT a veggie, but a starch any way) and green beans, both that are quite high in sodium.

The REAL Popeye was for the children, like Wu-Tang.
So how did a fast food restaurant come in and destroy Popeye’s good name? It’s a conspiracy. What kind of conspiracy, that, I do not know. But I have a name for it: The Chickenilluminati. Because you cannot have a good conspiracy theory without a name. Well, it’s not a theory…yet. But I have a name, and that’s half the battle. DO you know how I was able to come up with such a clever name? Because I haven’t been eating Popeyes chicken. My mind is sharp and my keyboard is dry, not greasy with chicken oil and Louisiana spices.

This is not the first time I suspected Popeyes of predatory behavior. Last year, I accused them of creating these absurd chicken sales to embarrass Black people in order to negate the power of our Black President. I think the Chickenilluminati is bigger, deeper than that. Just like Rick Ross is deeper than rap. Well, he’s not deeper then rap. But he’s bigger. Bigger physically. His breasts are each the size of preemie.

Chickenilluinati all through his body.

That’s probably because of Popeyes chicken. And that’s not a bad thing, as his ability to survive to old age is not something I’m vested in. But, what about the people who DO like him? Well, they can just blame the Chickenilluminati for his inevitable untimely (in the eye of the beholder) demise.

Y’all think Shitty Ricky keeps saying “Rawse” or “Bawse”. But he’s actually saying “Sauce?”, because he would like to have some more honey mustard for his Popeye’s. They stingy as hell with that good spicy honey mustard they got. That’s the trickiest part of the Chickenilluminati. If they gave them condiments up all willy nilly, you’d probably suspect something. That’s why they hold back.

I’d love to talk more, but all this speak of Popeyes’ has me craving syrup and biscuits, so I need to go eat low sugar oatmeal and cry about it. Presented without any further commentary- your proud cousins in Rochester, NY reacting to the Popeyes’ chicken famine of 2009: