Spewing Black Venom

This is me jiggin’ to the sounds of passionate black power chants of the 1960s on audio. Well, no, not really but let certain folks tell it this is what we do late at night whenever we gather around. I’m pretty sure Clifford H. Bell Jr. thinks this judging from the email he sent me this morning.

It read:

Play your race card you idiot!!! Spewing your (black) venom is what keeps you black people down, when are you black people going to understand that??

Whew, I feel the rage and it’s troubling my soul. Or something. When I saw this I instantly thought, “Hmm, that AOL piece I did must be up.”

Actually, it went up yesterday and I’m surprised that I only got one hateful email versus a dozen the way I do any other time I write about issues that deal with race. I always find it interesting when people get riled up about the things I say when I often have to state them in the mildest of terms. For professional sites, that is. Sometimes I have free reign to just be, but more times than not editors like the PG-13 version of me. Or G. I get it, but you know.

People get very very offended very very easily. Please read that sentence in your best Elmer Fudd voice if you can.

Anyhow, in this piece’s particular case I target black people than white. I didn’t say anything about white people per se, but I suppose when you reference systematic factors that have paved the way for the problems minorities face today some will feel a certain type of way no matter how you word it.

The topic may be a bit stale to some now, but it’s not to those currently suffering and those who sure would love to capitalize off of it.

So, if you have a moment, check me out over on AOL News by clicking here.

Then join me in singing this:

You know what? Would I be wrong if I emailed this video back to him along with the message, “Thank you, Sandra Bullock. I’m most grateful for you helping me see the error of my ways?” He sounds angry and in need of a morning jig.

I swear you would’ve thought I wrote in the article that black people need to free themselves from the man and start throwing buckets of fried chicken at them on site.

Oh, post racial America. How I love thee.

Again: Click here to read it.

The Revolution Will Not Be Animated

When I initially heard about Freaknik: The Musical, my level of excitement rivaled my appetite for a toe nail and tuna sandwich.

So many questions lingered in my head. Why would anyone give T-Pain a cartoon? Why would you theme a cartoon on Freaknik? At 24 how would T-Pain remember Freaknik anyway?

I don’t know why I went against my better judgment and watched this. It literally took only two minutes of viewing to ask the most important question of them all: Why hasn’t anyone handed Jay-Z a glock so he could really kill auto-tune?

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On The Oscars, Suga

I don’t think Mo’Nique ever had a problem with being honored by the Academy. It seemed to be more of an issue of whether or not she would bend over backwards to be honored for something she felt should be solely based on merit. She chose not to and based on her comments in recent and not so recent interviews, she’s admittedly about the bottom line. To some people you have to give a little to get more in the long run. To others they want all that you can give them from the jump.

As I contemplate driving up the block, turning on “Toss It Up,” and pop-pop-pop that thang for student loan cash, I can’t be mad at those who select the latter in hindsight.

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You Sent It: “Pretty Boy Swag”

I only interpret Soulja Boy’s music in two extremes. Sometimes I’ll say listening to Soulja Boy is like being slapped in the head with a watermelon. And then there are times where I’ll think to myself, “Well, who doesn’t love watermelon margaritas?”

He may talk like a Hooked on Phonics failure, but if the beat goes and the alcohol flows chances are I might be indulge him in his web of foolery. I’d be lying if I denied supermanning you heauxs the very second after I found the instructional video a few years back. In fact, if I could actually remember how the dance went I’d still probably be down to do it if there’s a Flip Cam in my presence.

And then there’s “She Gotta Donk,” which I won’t dance to in public but will appreciate all those around me that choose to.

But this - this shit right here – has left some seeds in my teeth.

The main reason is the obvious: Soulja Boy raps about as good as corn chip flavored feet taste.

Granted, he’s always been the male equivalent of Trina but he’s always been clever enough to guise that with a catchy beat. The beat for this song is not bad at all, but it unfortunately doesn’t do a good enough job of distracting us from Soulja Boy and his awful lyrical content.

Let’s start with:

This right here is my swag/The girls are on me…damn/Everybody pay attention/This right here is my pretty boy swag

And then there are gems like:

I’m pretty boy swagging in the club feeling sexy…no homo.

A guy dancing around a bunch of self-professed “pretty boys” suddenly feels compelled to declare his heterosexuality after saying he feels sexy in the club? Isn’t that kind of like telling folks about your pretty boy swag? If one is OK why not the other?

Heavens to murgatroyd. I’m trying to make sense of Soulja Boy lyrics. Nevermind. To that line I say:

I demand that everyone reading this makes that same face this instant. Don’t let your judgmental co-worker sway you from doing so either.

As for the video itself, I would get on it looks like a high school project, but it’s a recession so I completely understand.

I will point out one last thing, though: This video reminds me of why I sometimes shift my lids to the side when I think about some Atlanta rappers.

In Atlanta you can have ridiculously creative acts like Outkast and Goodie Mob who combine sounds and imagery uniquely their own or you can have people like Soulja Boy who is obviously ripping off another region’s sound.

When D4L and Dem Franchize Boys took off I was instantly annoyed (but I still danced, I’m not crazy) because I knew they were ripping a Dallas sound that had been around years prior and got all the credit for it.

And Yung Joc’s debut album sounded like it was recorded down the street from Frenchy’s Chicken. Houston natives will catch that reference.

In sum, Soulja Boy needs to give Silkk The Shocker his flow back and let Dallas handle the sound if he’s unable to. This dude could’ve at least given me a new stupid dance to love for five minutes. Damn, homie, are you getting lazier on us?

Or to put things more eloquently, allow me to quote YouTube user, xXSeasameSkreetXx:

Dhis sonq is sooo MuahFxckin’ Wack. Well de’ beat is tiqht as fuhh doe. Somebodii needs ta make remix wihd it forrea.

Lyk3 r3a!!y.

Rihanna’s Trying

Rihanna has a history of performing at the same energy level as a sedated Britney Spears. But, to her credit I think she’s trying to do better as evidenced by this performance at the Echo Awards. Has she completely succeeded yet? No, not really, but in this instance I think we should give her an A for effort. If an A is too much, just don’t give her a D for deportation.

Before your eyes shift sideways, let me make my case.

Look at how she opens the performance. She’s actually moving, ya’ll. Like, not just her lips but her actual body. Granted, she’s bending over and busting it open for a Transformer, but I’m sure Jimmy Neutron is somewhere smiling because of it. She gave robot boy hope and potentially a hard on, folks. Does that count for something?

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Too Soon

A 13-year-old girl lost her life yesterday because a man with the temperament of a rabies-inflicted dog lost his cool over his own stupid mistake.

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Stop Rapping To Me

Yesterday Farouk Shami lost his bid to be the Democratic gubernatorial candidate after getting that ass handed to him by former Houston mayor Bill White.

With Shami knowing he was a heavy underdog in the race he made a last-minute decision to release this campaign song in the form of an ad.

In my head I picture some poor misguided soul telling Shami:

1. Rap

+

2. Ad

=

3. Youth (or probably just black) votes.

Whoever the mastermind of this advertisement is, I hope they enjoy their new life pushing KFC’s new boneless chicken filets.

I never thought Jay-Z killed auto-tune, but I definitely think Farouk just put another bullet in its already fledging appeal.

I’m not mad at the artist J. Xavier because a check is a check, but I hope he uses said check to pay for tuition because a successful career in rap seems about as likely as RuPaul posing in Playboy now.

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You Sent It: “Patron & Brugal”

I suddenly have a greater appreciation for “Walk The Plank.”

I was sent “Patron & Brugal” over the weekend. My mouth instantly craved for Ciroc and Simply Lemonade after reading the title. But to be fair to the artist, William Haze, it might not be all his fault.

The only thing I know about Brugal is that a friend – who at the time I wanted to be more than a friend – had a Dominican boyfriend who left a bottle over that I’m assuming they shared. And before you ask no I wasn’t offered any. I’ll let you rate that on your personal shadeometer on your own time. But, basically I’m already left with a bad taste in my mouth without actually ever trying this brand of rum.

Wait, who am I kidding. Satan could piss Hennessy on me and I’ll be damned if I let that ruin that brown for me. I suppose the same can be said about any potentially good alcoholic beverage. Still, given that I’ve already had a bad introduction to Brugal I need a reason to give it another chance.

This song ain’t it, pimpin’.

I wish I could blame not knowing what in the hell William Haze is saying, but that’s not it. Half the time I never know what Gucci is talking about but I jig, get it big anyhow.

But the beat for this song is irritating as hell. It sounds like something they’ll play to death on LA radio. If you didn’t know already, most LA radio stations stick to Top 40 which means pop-heavy “rap” tracks like this nonsense will be played to death. Boom boom boom my ass.

Of all people to call Haze tapped MIMs? Anything with him on it tends to sober me up at the club. Do you all remember how much they played “This Is Why I’m Hot?” I wished frostbite on many a DJ. I don’t want to knock Fred Flintstone head’s hustle, so I’ll just say I hope he was compensated quite nicely for this track.

I’m going to guess that with the inclusion of MIMS on the track Haze intended to bring black and brown together under the love of various forms of Latino liquor. The “Ebony and Ivory” of club music, if you will. Unfortunately, this is the type of song that could start a race war.

Tensions are already high in certain regions of the country. Wack songs won’t do anything but further aggression. Maybe they should’ve called Pitbull and Plies for a track called “Dick and Doritos.” I’m sure that would’ve been better than this.

Maybe I’m going to have to find a Dominican to put me on game, but as of now the combination of a strong rum and tequila sounds like a battle royale in the belly. And this song, well, it seems like it’s only prepping you for the hangover sponsored headache that’s to come.

As much as I hate this song, I can already tell it will be blasted to death out in Cali and other parts of the country with similar demographics. Shame on everyone in advance.

I Need Answers

1. Was this performance a skit or did J.Lo mean to sound like a cat with throat cancer on purpose?

2. Although Wacka Flocka Flame might be telling the truth when he says he’s always reading, is it wrong to still think he talks like someone who only reads coloring books?

3. Why are people still denying Beyonce’s vocal ability in 2010?

4. Who else can’t wait until Alicia Keys goes back to soul light music?

5. As technologically breathtaking as it was did anyone else find themselves laughing while watching Avatar?

6. Toni Braxton still seems to be stuck on the sex kitten bit. Is she trying to be the Blanche Devereaux of R&B?

7. How much longer do we have to keep entertaining the Tea Party Movement?

8. Considering he’s about as hard as RuPaul with Melyssa Ford in his lap, isn’t it funny to see Omarion play a thug?

9. Is it safe to talk about how awful Wyclef has been sounding lately or do we still have to be polite and play deaf?

10. My mama has finally found me on Facebook. Has yours?

11. How did “How you doin’?” morph from a stereotypically way to call out gay men into daytime TV’s sweetest catch phrase?

12. Can the ground please stop moving?

13. Can the same be said of Quentin Tarantino’s tongue whenever he decides to start speaking in his “blaccent?”

14. Why won’t the mainstream press give black women a break?

15. Be honest: Have you been working on perfecting your Nicki Minaj impersonation, too?

16. How afraid should we all be about fast food restaurants now gleefully put huge posters that read “We accept EBT?”

17. Fellow Toyota customers, are you making this face, too?

18. Who else is over the cell phone pictures of celebrity crotches leaking to the Web fad?

19. When is the last time you’ve hit someone with the flex?

20. Are you happy that I’ve finally posted video evidence of me jiggin’?

Bonus: How did you discover The Cynical Ones? Just curious. =)

A Different Kind of Black-on-Black Crime

I know some of you have recently shown me a full eclipse in light of the infrequent updates over the past few weeks. To that I say: Thank you for pushing me to blog regularly, but until I turn a profit from this thing some days won’t see any updates. Ya’ll trying to have me sell pills and parts.

And since [the man] took away my health insurance, I have to save. I’m driving a Camry, folks. I could be riding dirty so unless I take my brother’s advice and fake an accent in an emergency room, chances are I might need to worry about a potential bill.

That said, if you’re wondering what I’m doing in the meantime I’m still writing.

My most recent piece for AOL News deals with homophobia in Africa. A lot of our fellow black people are out there being persecuted among several nations. If they’re not being jailed for simply being who they are, they’re being slaughtered for it.

And indirectly, many Americans are helping facilitating this criminalization of homosexuality.

If you know you can’t stand gay people and don’t want to read this, no worries, I’ll be back to scolding Wacka Flocka’s English teacher in no time.

However, if you’re open to hearing a different perspective on the matter I invite you to read this piece. Then retweet, Facebook, and email it.

Click here to read it.

Thank you as always.

P.S. It’s OK to drop some coins in that donate button. Treat it like the tip jar at Magic City, please.

And I do have archives, which you should all read. You can tell how far I’ve come along as a writer. Uh, or not. Your call.

Now let me go back to scouting potential corners.