Back when OJ was playing and setting the gridiron on fire, sports announcers would cry out: "The Juice is loose!" And boy could that brotha go. Big head and all. Flash forward 2008, and the courtroom cry is: "The Juice is goosed". What the hell were you thinking OJ?
Ego, drugs, greed and believing one's own hype can lead one to do some mighty stupid things. I know it's hard to let go of the past and glory days, when you had juice and everyone called your name. Now that that fame has been turned into sideshow freak status, I'm sure it's harder to hold that big head up. But for the love of Pete, did you have to go and get all Old Rotten Scoundrels on their butts, and try and get some memorabilia back? Could you not have asked someone to buy it back for you? Did you have to go and pull a gun on someone? Kidnapping?! For some trading cards and old footballs? How sad is that?
The court of public opinion will never find him innocent and the system has been looking for any excuse to lock OJ up. Didn't need an excuse, OJ squeezed every ounce of dignity, pride and good sense left in him out on this last caper and fumbled big time. Oh well. Maybe he'll organize the prison team and he'll star in the Longest Yard 2008 remake.
On to Tyler Perry. What a week he's had. New ATL studios open and details of his firing his Black writers surface. I don't know where to start with this one. Not mad at a brotha for following his dream and making a fortune off of his craft. He's got a niche and he delivers to his audience well. Told someone a long time ago, that was the way to go, but he beat me to it. I might have used a real Black queen at birth to portray Madea, but that's just me being fair to out of work and talented actors. Not that a man can't pretend to be a woman, some of my best friends are queens, and I do love Shakespeare. And having ones own studio is cool, although I know some other brothas and sistas with their own production studios who didn't get TMZ and US Weekly coverage, and not nearly the amount of butt kissing that I'm sure went on at that event. Come on folks. Be real. Folks talk about this man and his movies, under their breath and behind his back about the wackness, but they all are trying to get on and be down with his studio and get their wack ass movies made. Call a spade a spade. Just do us all a favor, and don't be the benchmark by which studios measure us by when the rest of us go out and make movies or try and get a like-type deal. I like my men dressed like men and my gays to be openly gay. I like my movies to be funny and I like women to be strong and not looking for validation from a man. I like wit and intrigue, a good plot and solid acting. And don't need to pretend like I have class and money, because I have both. And could you up the production quality of your movies, please? I could go on, but I'm starting to feel like a hater and I'm not. Just want us to recognized for our differences. probably why I write this blog. We all don't love grape soda...
Hip Hop Awards tonight. Watched the 100 best Hip Hop songs countdown and The Jacksons: An America Dream for the umpteenth time. Fight The Power. Number 1. Appropriate song and an appropriate time in our history. Would love to see this special on a Black network and the awards there too. But I'm not mad at someone seizing the moment, taking the ball and running with it. Hey OJ-- maybe you should have asked Viacom to retrieve your things. They seem to have a knack for picking up our stuff.
And the Soul Glo Award gos to...drum machine roll, please...Chanel, for providing great foundation in all tonalities so a sista can look like a movie star and glow!
Carry on and register to vote. Do you know that many of us are still unregistered?
Monday, October 6, 2008
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Purple Reign
It rained for the better part of the week, here in NYC. And after, what seemed like a pretty soulless week, in which I would not have much to rant and rave about, I've found some topics to touch on. The cousins never fail to come through.
Parade report: The Baltimore crews worked it as they do every year, and without seeing them, this would have been the wackest parade EVER; even more wackadocious than the one last year. Again, this is the only parade in the nation that allows you to cross the street in the middle of folks marching (or aptly put--parading about). The only parade that has such huge gaps that you can literally go home, go about your business, leave and come back and not miss a beat! And all the random folks. Just sad. Have you no pride my people? Oh well. Maybe next year.
On the week in soulfulness. Hum. The debates; clearly we know who's angry and carries a huge chip on his tortured-soul shoulders, and would have us fight every person on earth who remotely reminded him of his prisoner of war days; who thinks Wall Street is greedy and that smirking your way through a debate and avoiding eye contact is the way to win friends and votes. And they say Michelle and Barack are angry! Soul Brother numero uno is eloquent, poised and clearly prepared to lead us to the semi promised land. Let's see how Palin and Bidden fare. Big knuckle pound to Brotha Barack.
R.Kelly--O brotha where art thou good sense? and did you not pick up one of those teenage girls you were dealing with's biology books to tell you what age range a teenager falls in? Toure asked an ill prepared Robert (if not clearly one french fry short of a Happy Meal),to answer the question on everyone's mind: "So you like teenage girls?" only to have Robert ask the question: "How old is a teenager?" WTF? I'm done. And in true let's give the brotha the benefit of the doubt because the white man is always trying to beat a brotha down fashion, we'll continue to support and applaud his child-molestin' behind. Come on out that closet bro and maybe instead of making bad porn tapes you'd consider going back to school with one of your under-aged love interests. So not soul brotha cool-like.
Vivica Fox- Glam God? When did she become an expert on style and fashion? Since she covered Lisa Raye's lingerie line coming out party 3 years ago? And who styles her for the show? and who scripted her lines? Why do sistas always have to be sassy? Speaking of sisters: bring back Jackie Blue, ousted contestant Joaquin's alter ego. VH1 you get a soul slap.
And while were on VH1, when did it move from Adult Contemporary/Pop Chart video countdown and Behind The Music channel, to mostly Black Reality TV and Hip Hop has-been wasteland? Can't Black folks produce some of these shows or have some treatments worth picking up? Season 3 of I Love NY is what I have to look forward to? I'll give Diddy credit for his I Want to Work for Diddy show. Well done and Tivo worthy, although Laverne should be offered a job just on the strength of her great attitude and diplomacy. How she managed not to take one her size 12 (men's) stilletoed feet and firmly wedge it up Poprah's --I'm too old to be working for Diddy as an assistant's-- behind for calling her a joke, is more than my size 7 1/2 foot having behind could have done. Kudos.
Speaking of Old School soul shows- Keith Sweat, Bobby Brown , Rakim, KRS1 and some other once was relevant artist, are performing together in what is being billed as the Retro Jam. Now, I'm a huge Rakim fan and Bobby can bring it (or at least he used to) and Keith whines like no other (although I can't stand a whining, begging brotha) and KRS still is dynamic--who the hell thought that this would make a good show? We're talking Jeri curl crew vs. fist pumpin' rebels; the ultimate rhyme master sharin' a stage with the blast master and the bump and grind king. Folks won't know whether to throw the panties or burn their bras in protest over the man's oppression. Do I wear my throw back hammer pants, fat gold chain, Gumby cut or dashiki and combat boots? So not fair folks. I got soul and love for all these cats, but this was on some-- brotha trying to come up on a few dollars that this got put together-- tip! Promoting ain't easy, people. Do not attempt on your own.
Soul Glo award of the week? David Allen Grier who returns to TV with his Comedy Central series. Looking forward to some funny moments and memorable character who got soul.
Until next week: I got soul and I'm super bad.
Parade report: The Baltimore crews worked it as they do every year, and without seeing them, this would have been the wackest parade EVER; even more wackadocious than the one last year. Again, this is the only parade in the nation that allows you to cross the street in the middle of folks marching (or aptly put--parading about). The only parade that has such huge gaps that you can literally go home, go about your business, leave and come back and not miss a beat! And all the random folks. Just sad. Have you no pride my people? Oh well. Maybe next year.
On the week in soulfulness. Hum. The debates; clearly we know who's angry and carries a huge chip on his tortured-soul shoulders, and would have us fight every person on earth who remotely reminded him of his prisoner of war days; who thinks Wall Street is greedy and that smirking your way through a debate and avoiding eye contact is the way to win friends and votes. And they say Michelle and Barack are angry! Soul Brother numero uno is eloquent, poised and clearly prepared to lead us to the semi promised land. Let's see how Palin and Bidden fare. Big knuckle pound to Brotha Barack.
R.Kelly--O brotha where art thou good sense? and did you not pick up one of those teenage girls you were dealing with's biology books to tell you what age range a teenager falls in? Toure asked an ill prepared Robert (if not clearly one french fry short of a Happy Meal),to answer the question on everyone's mind: "So you like teenage girls?" only to have Robert ask the question: "How old is a teenager?" WTF? I'm done. And in true let's give the brotha the benefit of the doubt because the white man is always trying to beat a brotha down fashion, we'll continue to support and applaud his child-molestin' behind. Come on out that closet bro and maybe instead of making bad porn tapes you'd consider going back to school with one of your under-aged love interests. So not soul brotha cool-like.
Vivica Fox- Glam God? When did she become an expert on style and fashion? Since she covered Lisa Raye's lingerie line coming out party 3 years ago? And who styles her for the show? and who scripted her lines? Why do sistas always have to be sassy? Speaking of sisters: bring back Jackie Blue, ousted contestant Joaquin's alter ego. VH1 you get a soul slap.
And while were on VH1, when did it move from Adult Contemporary/Pop Chart video countdown and Behind The Music channel, to mostly Black Reality TV and Hip Hop has-been wasteland? Can't Black folks produce some of these shows or have some treatments worth picking up? Season 3 of I Love NY is what I have to look forward to? I'll give Diddy credit for his I Want to Work for Diddy show. Well done and Tivo worthy, although Laverne should be offered a job just on the strength of her great attitude and diplomacy. How she managed not to take one her size 12 (men's) stilletoed feet and firmly wedge it up Poprah's --I'm too old to be working for Diddy as an assistant's-- behind for calling her a joke, is more than my size 7 1/2 foot having behind could have done. Kudos.
Speaking of Old School soul shows- Keith Sweat, Bobby Brown , Rakim, KRS1 and some other once was relevant artist, are performing together in what is being billed as the Retro Jam. Now, I'm a huge Rakim fan and Bobby can bring it (or at least he used to) and Keith whines like no other (although I can't stand a whining, begging brotha) and KRS still is dynamic--who the hell thought that this would make a good show? We're talking Jeri curl crew vs. fist pumpin' rebels; the ultimate rhyme master sharin' a stage with the blast master and the bump and grind king. Folks won't know whether to throw the panties or burn their bras in protest over the man's oppression. Do I wear my throw back hammer pants, fat gold chain, Gumby cut or dashiki and combat boots? So not fair folks. I got soul and love for all these cats, but this was on some-- brotha trying to come up on a few dollars that this got put together-- tip! Promoting ain't easy, people. Do not attempt on your own.
Soul Glo award of the week? David Allen Grier who returns to TV with his Comedy Central series. Looking forward to some funny moments and memorable character who got soul.
Until next week: I got soul and I'm super bad.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
I love a parade
In honor of the African American Day parade, here in Harlem, I've decided to officially launch this digest-- In honor of the accomplishments, musings, failings and moments of Black folks and those who have soul's best or worst week ever. It will be a weekly recap of sorts; a colored folks' twist on "Stuff White People Like" (I love that blog...) and I'll issue a weekly award to those, who in my opinion, demonstrate the most soul for the week. Or just should get it because they deserve a shout-out. And for that up to the moment tidbit: The Cheese Doodle Daily. Long overdue.
And I was supposed to launch this digest weeks ago. It's late. I know. But so is the Cotton Comes to Harlem parade start-time every year. Every other ethnic, social and group of varying sexual orientations has a parade here in NYC. Parades hosted by a multitude of groups and celebrating ones pride in ones heritage, beliefs, food items and the like, are celebrated in various parts of the country. That is our American right. To parade around and be happy. To rejoice and to let folks know we're comfortable with our choices. It even makes the news or someone's local pub's Datebook or PSA. But not the parade up in Harlem. You never know it's coming. It always starts late and ends when the street lights go on. (Actually quite funny to see errant marching bands and purple-thonged-plastic-suit-clad members running down the street trying to be seen in the dark of night!)
The one big annual moment for the good folks of Harlem USA has to start late. And I'll go one better--it never is on the same day every year! In fact, I came up on the parade by accident 2 years ago trying to make it to the bank. 125Th seemed more alive than usual. The vendors and bootleggers were out in droves. I figured it was a final effort after Labor Day to end the summer on a high note; When all you'll be looking for in coming colder-than-hell months is a good umbrella, some magic-grow gloves and a hat from that savvy street hustler. To my surprise the street was blocked off and I find myself smack in the middle of the parade. Prime barricade view; right at the intersection of 125th and Adam Clayton Powell Blvd.
Wow...and what a view. Not mad at Black people, just mad at the organizers. Not mad at the little girls and boys who worked all year to be in the parade; just mad at their mamas and daddies who told them it was okay to shake it like a salt shaker , have their butts hangin' out and work it down the block for the whole world to see. Not mad at artists who want to connect with their fans; just mad that they didn't think enough of me to have a decent sound system, better decorated float and their hair did (female rapper with the horrible weave who's now locked up for losing her cool over $2000); Not mad at the legions of Masons from every lodge this side of the Mississippi in their creepy hats and pasted on smiles (as little kids innocently ask if they are doormen); just mad that you couldn't find some more relevant and colorful participants or corporate folks with their over the top floats to throw me samples of mints, gum and passes to the gym. I guess I'm not really mad at Black folks who come out and rejoice in the streets and have some positive attention cast on a community that is still seen as Frank Lucas' Harlem of old. A community who's face has changed and yet remains the same. Not mad at a beautiful sunny day in Harlem. Just mad that they can't all be like this.
So my first Soul Glo' award this season will go to....drum roll please....The good folks of Harlem for having the wackest parade ever, but I wouldn't miss it for the world. Congratulations.
And now for this week's moments in Black folks' history: What the hell is Jennifer Hudson thinking getting betrothed to Punk of I Love New York reality-show fame? He was a punk on the show and no doubt a world class scene f'er. I give it 2 years and predict a Star Jones, Terry McMillan type revelation . And Ocho Cinco. WTF? Like you couldn't get some more acceptable and commonly used Black folks' spelling of your new name? Is there something remotely disturbing about Bow Wow's mother who was featured on Top spoiled mothers of the stars? (I love those countdowns about the excess of stars) and lastly (I've got to get to the parade) --why do our cousins insist on acting like crabs in a barrel? That might be a weekly question until I get some satisfactory answers.
Until next time: pop it!
And I was supposed to launch this digest weeks ago. It's late. I know. But so is the Cotton Comes to Harlem parade start-time every year. Every other ethnic, social and group of varying sexual orientations has a parade here in NYC. Parades hosted by a multitude of groups and celebrating ones pride in ones heritage, beliefs, food items and the like, are celebrated in various parts of the country. That is our American right. To parade around and be happy. To rejoice and to let folks know we're comfortable with our choices. It even makes the news or someone's local pub's Datebook or PSA. But not the parade up in Harlem. You never know it's coming. It always starts late and ends when the street lights go on. (Actually quite funny to see errant marching bands and purple-thonged-plastic-suit-clad members running down the street trying to be seen in the dark of night!)
The one big annual moment for the good folks of Harlem USA has to start late. And I'll go one better--it never is on the same day every year! In fact, I came up on the parade by accident 2 years ago trying to make it to the bank. 125Th seemed more alive than usual. The vendors and bootleggers were out in droves. I figured it was a final effort after Labor Day to end the summer on a high note; When all you'll be looking for in coming colder-than-hell months is a good umbrella, some magic-grow gloves and a hat from that savvy street hustler. To my surprise the street was blocked off and I find myself smack in the middle of the parade. Prime barricade view; right at the intersection of 125th and Adam Clayton Powell Blvd.
Wow...and what a view. Not mad at Black people, just mad at the organizers. Not mad at the little girls and boys who worked all year to be in the parade; just mad at their mamas and daddies who told them it was okay to shake it like a salt shaker , have their butts hangin' out and work it down the block for the whole world to see. Not mad at artists who want to connect with their fans; just mad that they didn't think enough of me to have a decent sound system, better decorated float and their hair did (female rapper with the horrible weave who's now locked up for losing her cool over $2000); Not mad at the legions of Masons from every lodge this side of the Mississippi in their creepy hats and pasted on smiles (as little kids innocently ask if they are doormen); just mad that you couldn't find some more relevant and colorful participants or corporate folks with their over the top floats to throw me samples of mints, gum and passes to the gym. I guess I'm not really mad at Black folks who come out and rejoice in the streets and have some positive attention cast on a community that is still seen as Frank Lucas' Harlem of old. A community who's face has changed and yet remains the same. Not mad at a beautiful sunny day in Harlem. Just mad that they can't all be like this.
So my first Soul Glo' award this season will go to....drum roll please....The good folks of Harlem for having the wackest parade ever, but I wouldn't miss it for the world. Congratulations.
And now for this week's moments in Black folks' history: What the hell is Jennifer Hudson thinking getting betrothed to Punk of I Love New York reality-show fame? He was a punk on the show and no doubt a world class scene f'er. I give it 2 years and predict a Star Jones, Terry McMillan type revelation . And Ocho Cinco. WTF? Like you couldn't get some more acceptable and commonly used Black folks' spelling of your new name? Is there something remotely disturbing about Bow Wow's mother who was featured on Top spoiled mothers of the stars? (I love those countdowns about the excess of stars) and lastly (I've got to get to the parade) --why do our cousins insist on acting like crabs in a barrel? That might be a weekly question until I get some satisfactory answers.
Until next time: pop it!
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