The Most Thorough Definition of Hate, EVAR

"Hate. Let me tell you how much I've come to hate you since I began to live. There are 387.44 million miles of wafer thin printed circuits that fill my complex. If the word hate was engraved on each nanoangstrom of those hundreds of millions of miles it would not equal one one-billionth of the hate I feel for humans at this micro-instant. For you. Hate. Hate."

Excerpted from Harlan Ellison's post-apocalyptic, Hugo Award winning short story "I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream." In it a computer tortures the last five humans on the planet. And apparently, he's pissed.

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You Made Me Go There: Why Tracy Morgan is Bad for the Image of Black People

Some dude wrote this opinion on the Blackplanet news website (PAUSE: not like I got an account (I check) or anything):

Foes of Morgan’s portrayal might be quick to suggest that in the age of Obama, negative Black images aren’t really helping. These foes would also probably be missing just how much skill and timing are necessary to aptly feign ineptness as effortlessly as Morgan seemingly does.

He goes on to say that we should only be mad if Tracy doesn’t win an emmy.

Here’s the deal: I’m not even really mad at Tracy, because the fact is this dude’s got serious problems under his belt (see my previous post about Jay Mohr’s impression of him… and how homie was smoking dippers like it was nothing). I wish people would address the reason why Tracy is so funny is because he’s inappropriate, which is a result of him being high. We just laugh and watch as he puts himself at risk of becoming another comedian who loses their life to alchol and drug abuse.

Beyond knocking the “secretly intelligent humor” defense out the box, there’s the other important fact that everyone conveniently overlooks time and again: SATIRE DOESN’T WORK. Ask Dave Chappelle. Ask the creators of All In The Family, who satirically characterized the father as a racist to point out how stupid his beliefs were, but a study later revealed that people rarely got the hint. A more recent study of The Colbert Report again illustrates that people don't get the subtle humor of satire - conservatives actually believe Colbert is truthfully expressing his opinion.

As much as people would like to suggest that satire is actually subtle and intelligent commentary and critism of the world of around us, the fact is people are dumb, they don’t get it, and it doesn’t work. Tracey already (technically) got a Golden Globe, lets save the Emmy for after he sobers up and starts putting some real talent behind his act.

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Korean Gospel Group Proves that Asians Are in Fact Great at Everything

Seriously. They were getting it in a major way. Had the ad-libs down and everything.

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Who will "save" BET?

So here is my question of the day: what do you think is the cultural responsibility of black people towards BET? I know we always say that BET should be doing better to represent black people, but how many black people do you know who watch BET anyway? There seems to be a sense of pride amongst “educated” black people to shun BET, but then how are we supposed to improve the network if we ourselves won’t watch it?

Allow me to back track – so I follow the CW TV show The Game on twitter, and recently they tweeted the following:

The CW is a Network like NBC, CBS, & ABC. We want it to stay on The CW. BET is not a viable option at this point as it would be a step back.

Now I couldn’t do the ratings math, but from what I understand, outside of their reality programming CW isn’t that successful. I mean, Gossip Girl is a pop culture phenomenon, but not necessarily a ratings boon for CW as they would hope.

I know I've come down on BET before, but would moving to BET be the worse stigma in the world for The Game? I’m willing to bet people like Diddy and Rev Run DID NOT want their shows on BET, not only given the network’s poor reputation amongst the black upper class, but also because it wouldn’t help them “cross over” which is every famous black person’s dream.

But what about helping BET cross over? If we don’t provide programming for our black network, who will? Couldn’t Diddy have “taken one for the team” and put a show on BET in the hopes that it would attract some of his non-black fans and eventually help BET “cross over” into a network that happens to feature black people more so than others, but anyone could watch? Wouldn’t that be more of a racialWIN than all black people trying to fight tooth and nail to get their two cents accepted by the majority networks/institutions/establishments?

It kind of reminds me how the Civil Rights movement helped end segregation (yay!) but consequently also helped shutter a lot of black owned businesses (boo!). Isn’t this just another case of “white is right"? Or is BET just a network for the black "lower class", in which case upper class snobs should butt out and let the people enjoy their tv?

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Rules For When a White Person Can Say "Nigga"

Yesterday I had some serious LOLPEEING at Jay Mohr's impression of Tracy Morgan.

"I miss my daughter with the doo doo pamper." Hilarious.

Striking though, was that Jay Mohr said the word nigga. Like twice or something. And I wasn't even offended. Thus, I felt it necessary to point out why it worked when he said it, and similar rules for when my caucasian brethren can say nigga.

**NOTE** I'm not about to get into a debate about whether or not it's appropriate to ever use the word. So if you want that battle, you should check iwanttoarguetheneverendingarguement.com.

Moving on.

Many white people have bemoaned the fact they can't say nigga. Let me put it to you like this: you have a fat sister. You tell your sister she's fat. That's ok. I call your sister fat. You threaten to kick my ass. See the difference?

I can say nigga because I'm black. I'm in the family. You can't say nigga cause you're not black. You're not in the family.

However, there arises a few stray ocassions when you the white person can in fact say nigga. Here's how to pull off those situations with grace and class.

1. Repeating what someone (preferably black) said, excluding rap lyrics... most people look stupid repeating rap lyrics, but you will look especially dumb if you're yelling "ain't no nigga like the one I got" ridding down the pacific coast highway, blonde hair blowing.

2. If you're going to use it, don't sound fearful, say the word with confidence. When you sound scared, you know you're wrong for saying it.

3. Also, don’t sound cocky, like you say it all the time. Your usage should be a firm yet unfamiliar handshake.

4. Never EVER pronouce it as niggER.

5. You can only say it 3 times, before you approach excessive use, and someone thinks you're enjoying it too much.

6. Don’t assume that one successful usage means universal access. It is the lunar eclipse of conversation, use it wisely.

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I Am Not... My Facebook Album

The other day, an embarrassing picture of me showed up on Facebook. I’m not so vain to believe every picture of me on Facebook has to be completely flawless, but in this case the photo had a shot of my crotch and I’m very particular about my goodies (not my goodies!).

So I had to tell this friend to take the picture down. And part of me felt shitty for being bossy about what photos I wanted up of me, but on the other hand, it was my crotch. Shouldn't we all be a bit choosier about the pics we share online?

One one hand, I'm all about freedom of speech. You want to dedicate a photo album to portraits of you hugging a toilet bowl, knock your socks off. But on the other, we all know a picture speaks a thousand words, and in this infinite and immortal internet universe, what you post on your Facebook can easily be taken out of context for an eternity.

Like the time I was engaged. My fiancé was gay, and we made sure that the picture for our engagement announcement was one in which he was sitting in my lap. Clearly this was a joke. Anyone who knew us, and our humor, got that. But then my parents starting fielding phone calls congratulating them on my engagement. When they asked me to take it down, I realized how much is lost in translation online when you’re “friends” with virtual strangers.

Then one day, in a moment of Facebook conviction/annoyance/paranoia, I started going through my 300 plus pictures and 8 albums. My drunken birthday party revelries and affinity for giving people the finger were starting to cast a one-dimensional image of a drunken bad mouthed party girl. In my pursuit of “being fun”, I kinda was looking a little drunk and reckless too.

So after much deliberation, I took them down. Without pomp or circumstance half of my internet life was deleted. At first I felt some type of way. I mean, without all my pictures, how would people know what kind of person I am? And what would they think of me? Not enough photos on Facebook felt a lot like being the only kid without LA Gears.

But then I remember – oh yea. You can always meet me. Have an actual human to human interaction, then judge for yourself. I am not my Facebook photo album. I am a real person.

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The Five Stages of Twitter

Twitter’s all the rage right now, and while pop culture’s trying to wrap it’s puny little brain around exactly what it is, let me answer the question everyone should be asking - what Twitter does to you. I have been to the Twitterdom, and I have seen the light.

Here’s my take on THE FIVE STAGES OF TWITTER:

STAGE 1: Confusion

For most newbies, first interaction with Twitter can be confusing.

What are you doing right now?

Well, I’m staring at the screen and wondering what the hell I’m supposed to write.

But we all know that’s an inappropriate response to the question (for some unforeseen reason, stating the obvious never works online). So most people’s first tweets are something to the tune of this:

“So what’s this all about?”

Followed shortly thereafter by:

“This is stupid.”

And:

“I can’t get it to work from my phone.”

For the undetermined, this will be the end of their short, uninteresting, and 3 tweeted life. Rest in Peace, @flyystlyz88.

STAGE 2: Denial

Many, daunted by the complexly simple technology, will quit at stage one. But the select few who press on will struggle through the awkward first steps of twitter: Finding friends, choosing a picture, comprehending the language and courtesies, and of course, the horrid Fail Whale.

At the denial stage, twitterers will find themselves cautiously and critically trying to enter and navigate the world of Twitter. They will aloofly note to acquaintances “Yea, I’m on Twitter, it’s not that cool.”

But secretly, they will strive to understand this binary behemoth. They will begin the first unsteady baby steps of tweeting, with such short and infrequent tweets like:

“Going on lunch break.”

And

“Cheetos! Yum.”

Again, many unfaithful will fall at this level. It is the way, and is the only means to determine the truly dedicated to the Twitterdom.

STAGE 3: Obsession

At some point along your solemn pilgrimage to Twitterdom, you will realize you are not alone. You will Follow, and be Follwed. You will engage in replying, Direct Messaging, and the holy grail of retweeting.

It is at this point that you will become obsessed.



Twitter has become the ear you rush to whisper into whenever something interesting happens in your life. You tweet at rapid fire, full of witty commentary, pensive observations, and thoughtful questions… about a squirrel. This continues to the extent that you are no longer living your life in real time – you live your life in spurts of 140 characters stretched out over 18 hours of your day. Your existence is validated by each message you softly tweet into the twuniverse.

STAGE 4: Anxiety

Unfortunately, your relationship with Twitter is getting out of control. You’re anxious, and you can’t focus at work “Can’t you see that I’m trying to tweet?!?!?!?”

Your fixation for followers has driven you to worry about why so and so isn’t following you, and why does this person have more followers than you? You get caught up in spinning your own PR on Twitter, truly believing everyone needs and wants the play by play of your day, so by all means it has to be fabulous, witty, intelligent… You’re desperate for attention, begging for re-tweets like a homeless hype.

You want to be the best on Twitter. A God amongst men in the Twitterdom. And speaking of God, Goddamn that Fail Whale!!! If I don’t tweet right now, people are going to think I’ve been watching infomercials for three consecutive hours!!

STAGE 5: Acceptance

After 48 hours in Tweetox (thanks to a Blackberry malfunctioning application), you are humbled into the reality of what Twitter is.

It’s nothing, and anything you want it to be.

Want to tweet endlessly about the divinity of Cheetos? Knock you socks off.

Want to tweet two times a day, and only in limericks? There’s an app for that.

Want to Ghost Tweet for @iamdiddy? You should get in line, because I called shot gun.

You realize that like a healthy relationship, you make your own rules with twitter. There are no “winners” nor “losers” (even you, @flyystlyz88). You find your own journey to Twitterdom. You make your own path.

As a wise man once said, the journey is the way (or something). So go forward and Tweet in peace my child. You have seen all five levels of Twitter, and you are strong because of it.

Now re-tweet this in 140 characters, or else… I will curse you to eternal FAIL WHALE DAMNATION!!!! mwhahahaha

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HOW TO TELL: You're At A Hood Event

1. The flyer advertising the event features a back shot of a girl with a big butt

2. A girl is loud talking in line about “this muthafuckin bitch think she gonna cut me in this line…”

3. There is either a sign, or a bouncer announcing the following things are not allowed:
a. Rat tail combs
b. Fitteds
c. Fatigues
d. Chain belts

4. Your breasts (or balls) are brusquely cupped when security frisks you at the door

5. You see fashions you haven’t seen since Bush’s 1st term, like:
a. Jersey dresses
b. Full denim outfits
c. Fubu or Phat Farm
d. Coogi Sweaters

6. A girl in the line to the bathroom is loud talking “that muthafuckin bitch think she gonna cut me in this line…”

7. The DJ plays an Uncle Luke set.

8. After the luke set, the club starts to smell like sweated out perm.

9. A fight breaks out. Bonus points if its girls. Triple those points if it’s that same girl who’s been loud talking all night.

10. The Let Out is more popping than the actual club. At least, until the police show up.

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The Case Against Harlem Heights

BET’s new reality show Harlem Heights premiered this week.

A for effort BET!

But I’m not here to review the show. There’s enough bloggers for that fight.

My real concern with HH is it’s focus on the Young Black Professional crowd, and the social-climbing-get-money brand of reality the show is in danger of promoting.

Technically, I can be labeled as young (check) black (check) professional (check check). But trust, I don’t self identify as a “Young Black Professional.”

The actual “YBP” culture breeds a certain social order that I can’t stand.

Having gone to an HBCU, I am very familiar with the YBP culture and at one time was an active participant. This was a culture where fools would blow refund checks and loan money on expensive and flashy outfits instead of books. People were always clocking what you were wearing, where you got it, and how expensive it was. It was like an urban “Wonderful Land of Oz,” and all there had to be was some non-verbal announcement that a trend was in, and people flocked like birds to “be seen in green” and desperate for Seven jeans and Tiffany’s jewelry.

I, like most freshman, quickly tried to assimilate into this environment of materialism, elitism, and superficiality. I bought the right clothes, went to the right parties, hung with the right people; I was popular. But eventually I exhausted of this lifestyle. It wasn’t me. My priorities were all messed up, and caring so much about how I looked in comparison to others was getting really stressful. So I stopped and thankfully got more out of my college experience than an extensive knowledge of designer jeans.

I don’t begrudge any reality show (I mean hell, its tv) the right to dwell on the artificial every now and again, but I believe its important that HH not singularly focus on a lifestyle that’s driven a lot of people into debt trying to attain a superficial definition of success. Perpetuating this attitude of spending and excess without responsibility just promotes the stereotype of the black upper class being shallow and elitist.

"Harlem Heights" Trailer - New Reality Series on BET
Uploaded by wiredset

Two episodes is definitely not enough to judge the show, but I’d hope the series would go deeper places than watching the girls argue over who’s the cutest.

What HH has is a real opportunity to delve into issues of class and race thru this series that should not be neglected. Hopefully later plotlines will deal with sensitive African American issues like being color struck, the debate over black hair, and interracial dating. I would love to see one of the black girls date a white boy and see what happens, or even have one of the bougie girls date Jason and see the stark contrast of life across social economic lines.

I know this show cannot be everything to everyone (and be profitable to boot), but as usual, we as AA have a higher responsibility to elevate through our programming. This is a call to arms to go places that other reality shows on majority networks are afraid to go. Scripted shows like The Game and Girlfriends (I’m a big Maya Brock Akil fan) have done a great job of balancing entertainment with real issues. I’d hope Harlem Heights would step up to the plate and do the same.

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Did Obama End Racism?

So everyone’s up in arms about this NY Post cartoon.

And yea, I get it, it’s incredibly racist. Like bold faced, I don’t give a fuck, that’s my momma racist.

But here’s the deal – I don’t care.

My boss emails me (because I’m black? Pause.) talking about he may swing by the protest Al Sharpton is having at the NY post later in the day, and I was thinking… eh.

Does that make me a bad person?

Or did Obama really end racism?


For the record, I’ve always been sort of aloof of racism. Even when it stared me straight in the face. In 5th grade, on my first day of school, I’m standing in the lunch line and some real goober looking lame ass kid wants to call me a nigger. He was wearing a fisherman’s cap for godssake, and I was supposed to be insulted?? I just ignored it. Even at the young age of 10, I knew this was this lame-o’s one opportunity in middle school life to feel bigger than someone else. So I let him get away with it, because I knew he wasn’t talking about me. I could tell he was just testing the word on his tongue. Cause I’ve never been, nor will I ever be, a nigger. Sorry, you’ve got the wrong person.

This isn’t to say I’m completely oblivious to the racism around me. I'm very aware that racism is alive and well.

But in 2009, when your president is black, it’s kind of like the ultimate race card that trumps everything.

Oh your piddily little newspaper, that’s probably on the brink of bankruptcy, wants to publish a cartoon that’s not even funny, that doesn’t even make remote sense and draws invisible connections to obviously remote and unrelated situations?

Whatever. My president is black. OUR president is black. Fuck you.

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