afrykan

Archive for the ‘Pop Culture’ Category

"And now, Back to you!

In Pop Culture on September 10, 2009 at 11:02 am
“Good evening and welcome to CBS news, This is reporting. On our show today, special guest political correspondents Senators and will interviewon the role she played in her brother’s run for presidency.
In entertainment news, and announced they would executive produce a made for television version of Cannon Ball Run with an all star line up to include ,
, , and . is rumored to have signed on board as a guest writer for the series.
In sports, NFL Quarterback was traded from the Tennessee Titans and boxer announced he would be coming out of retirement and is rumored to be training with former Welterweight champion . In other sports, Our guest analyst sits down NBA power forward & Los Angeles Angels pitcher on the pros and cons of being drafted straight from high school vs. going to college.
In fashion, and discuss the ups and downs of a professional modeling career, then and now.
In music news, legends and are expected to be on hand for the indoctrination of into the Rock & Roll Hall of fame. The After party is scheduled to be hosted by . All that and more but first, a word from our sponsor…”
“HI! THIS IS FOR OXYCLEAN…!

“Girl, He Gay!”

In Humor, Pop Culture on August 15, 2009 at 7:32 pm
Okay ladies, I’ve had just about enough of your crap! Once upon a time, a man could take a shower, iron his clothes, and spray 17 squirts of cK1 (I like the classics) on his neck bone and not be likened to Will & Grace or Perez Hilton (“Will, I am gay!”). If gay is your thing then by all means do you, just don’t try to do me. No offense to anyone homosexual. I am GLADD for you but I am not a member. I am a man whore. I am a straight-lord. I am a lesbian. I love women. Even as I say this, some bimbo-infested floosy just had this thought prance across her mind: “He’s just saying that. I know he gay ‘cause he read books and shit!” Firstly, may your clitorati shrivel up, fall off then out of your dress, eventually knocking the “F” smooth off your fake Fendi bag, in a public setting. Secondly, I have been hearing accusations from the Spandex Inquisition, a.k.a. women, questioning the sexuality of every single, single or married man who crosses her path, then, rejecting every answer unless it is an affirmation of her prior suspicions:

Accusysha: How do I know you’re straight?
Wilt: Because I said so.
Accusysha: What dat mean? You could still be gay.
Wilt: I’m married and I have 2 kids.
Accusysha: What dat mean? You could still be gay.
Wilt: I’ve slept with over 20,000 women.
Accusysha: What dat mean? You could still be gay.
Wilt: I am not attracted to men!!
Accusysha: What dat mean? You could still be gay.
Wilt: I’m out. You are crazy lady!

Cut to: Cosigniqua returning from bathroom as Wilt storms away in anger:

Cosigniqua: What up with him girl? He’s cute.
Accusysha: Girl, he gay!
Cosigniqua: Sheeeeeit. I know that’s right. They all gay!

I miss the good old days where the only 2 questions you would come to expect were “Are you employed?” and “Are you single?” Now, “Are you gay?” is something you should come to expect and somehow not be offended by (I guess). The first couple of times I heard this, I had to thoroughly check the man in the mirror. What the f*ck am I doing wrong? I don’t wear skinny leg jeans, earrings in one or both ears, jewelry, get mani-pedi’s, drive a pink Range Rover, wear lip gloss, and …ok. Now I see what’s going on. The straight guy’s seem to have a little queer stuck in their eye (or stuck in their closet at the very least, no pun intended).

There has been a steady influx of homosexual, metro-sexual, and regulo-sexual men who just happen to over care about their appearance. More and more men are raised and dressed by our single mommas so is it any wonder that men put more emphasis on style? If you grew up in NY, there was no getting away from fashion. As I mentioned several blogs ago, there were gangs dedicated to fashion designers in the eighties and early nineties. That was/is the culture and if you questioned any cashmere knitted, designer framed pretty boy’s sexuality, you had better be combat ready because an ass kicking was surely on deck.

We also saw how you women swooned over Al B. Sure when he hit the stage. We saw all those Word-Up magazine posters of translucent-suited, translucent-skinned, pretty boy R&B groups adorning your bedroom walls. What the hell did you expect to happen to our tastes? We warned you to stop listening to Wendy “How you dooin?” Williams and her gay witch hunts before it was too late. But did you listen? Noooo. Now look at ya? You can’t tell whose who. You guys are more confused than the ones you confuse with being confused.

E. Lynn Harris (RIP), on the “down-low” novels (of which women are the predominant audience I suspect), the Bravo channel, MTV, and a slew of other mass media outlets have contributed tremendously to what I can only describe as an onslaught of effeminate African American figures on television and in print. Seems the only good television Negro, is a gay television Negro.

Oddly enough, one of the most misogynist, sexist, and homophobic genres in all of entertainment plays a greater role than it cares to admit. I am speaking of hip hop music and the images conveyed. Not since the pride parade have there been so many men wearing tight clothes, jewelry and make up, simply because it makes them feel fabulous (that’s F-A-B-U, not F-A-B-O). It was once said that all rappers aspire to be old rich white women and I can literally see why.

Straight men have even had to change their insults toward each other for what was once deemed offensive and emasculating may now be misconstrued as some sort of subconscious invitation (“Yo son, why you always saying suck my d*ck” & kiss my a**? You gay?”)
For your consideration, please try and take into account that not all men wish to smell like 3 day old buffalo ass dipped in a creamy shit sauce. Some of us do like to keep it clean, “jiggy”, “fresh to death”, “fly”, etc… And although some definitely take it too far, do not make the assumption that every man in a pink polo wants to play with your little pony.
Reverse the situation for a minute. Imagine some guy walked up to you and asked, “Excuse me, are you a man?” That is essentially what you are asking a straight man when you accuse, uh I mean, question him. And trust me, if you are on your game, you will find out soon enough whose straight and whose not without having to open your mouth (well, at least not at first- insert Jadakiss laugh here).

So fellas, I guess this is the new norm we will have to accept. There is nothing you can do about it. You can at least take some solace in the fact that it’s not due to any act you are committing, unless you are actually skipping around town holding hands with another dude wearing matching strawberry colored “HIS” and “HIS” scarves, in which case, it’s totally you.

Cut to: later that evening as Wilt and Accusysha lay in bed after 5 minutes of mind blowing intercourse.

Wilt: …but I slept with your cousin, your aunt, you, and Cosigniqua, twice!
Accusysha: “What dat mean …

Sidebar: “You know how I know you’re gay? Because you only have sex with women.” Sidebar complete.

http://www.youtube.com/v/VX0SD_cazhs&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0&color1=0xe1600f&color2=0xfebd01&border=1

I Wanna Text You Up

In Humor, Pop Culture on August 7, 2009 at 2:39 pm

Welcome to Dating 2009! Please enter your username and password to access love. WARNING!! All prior courting rituals have been upgraded to a wireless, hands-free, paperless, blue-toothed, e-fficient process for your mass consumption. The days of pens and errant shards of paper needed to jot down a phone # have long passed (remember being screwed because after doing all that wooing, you couldn’t find a pen?). Also gone are the days when you whipped out your Motorola StarTac 8500 flip phoneto punch in her Smart Beep pager # (1800 BEEP-199),only to send her a numeric “hello” message (01134 viewed upside down). Your only requirement now is a last name, so you can “friend” a potential boo on a social networking website, in the event of course, your cell phone has died, or her cell phone has died, or she can’t “beam” it to your two-way pager, etc… And this is if you even desire human interaction. Otherwise, you can Match.com a Fling.com on eHarmony.com, and with very minimal effort, Period.com!

To update the unsuspecting on today’s digital dating trends, I have comprised some scenarios under which online courting has been known to take place. If you are not familiar, you have probably been a victim.

Probable Internet Mating Practices (P.I.M.P)

1. He sends you a friend request and you have never met him before. “I know you from where? Third grade?”

2. There is nothing instant about your instant message (IM) chat. What started out as a “What’s up?” has turned into Aaliyah’s “Four Page Letter”. If you really wanted to be online this long, you would’ve gone to the DMV (I’ll be here all week).

3. She follows your every online move. She knows you just left Youtube and stopped by Gmail on your way to Twitter. She told me to tweet you that you’ve just been outbid on Ebay, she likes your Flickr pics and said you could’ve borrowed her copy of Fatal Attraction instead of downloading it on Limewire. As you are reading this, she is sending you a message; “Hey, where ya been? It’s been 4 minutes. ”

4. She has filled her space on Mypsace with your face. In what can easily be misconstrued as a shrine, she has more comments, pics, and posts of you than your mother. “How the hell did you get my sonogram?

5. You can do no wrong. He loves everything you have to say. If you changed your facebook status to say, “I hate you Joe, please leave me the hell alone,” Joe would check the “Like” thumbs-up icon and leave the following comment: “I know what you mean beautiful. I can be so annoying sometimes. Can I have your number? Can I have it? Can I? Huh? Can I?”


So have you been attacked by P.I.M.P’s recently?

It is of course all fun and games until someone gets into a relationship. Soon after, technology becomes more of an issue than any prior generation has ever had to deal with. For one, your illicit and secretive transgressions can potentially be uncovered via open email accounts left unattended, undeleted call histories and the camera phones in your friends and family plan:

“Hey girl. I missed you today. I missed you so much that I had my boy follow you. He uploaded a picture and video from his iphone of you in Starbucks three hours from now. I know coffee gives you gas because I had your blood tested while you were sleeping so what the hell was you doin’ with a mocha latte Anna Mae?”

In addition, the idea of being readily available at a moment’s whim is still a new phenomenon and just as your employer has tethered you with the “perk” of a company Blackberry, once you are wired to be wireless, an equally irrational if not more expedient response time is expected from your partner. If you have ever received two texts from your beau simultaneously and they read: “Hey how you doing?” followed immediately by, “What the hell is taking you so long to respond to my text? I know you have at least 3 bars of reception because I used your phone from where you are right now.” 2 missed calls, 3 voicemails and 7 text messages later, there is a knock on the bathroom stall at your job and as you stare at your boo’s shoes from the other side of the potty, you start to wonder, “Is this really the person for me?” The answer is no btw, might I also suggest witness protection?

As always, it boils down to the amount of trust you and your partner have established. With that said, you also have to be aware of their insecurities and somehow apply that to your actions. Is it fair? Of course it’s not fair silly child but you didn’t sign up for fair, you signed up for love.


With that said, there are equally unifying & contradictory roles women (naïve conspirers) and men (jealous man-whores) assume in the dating world. Women seem to have men eating out of the palm of their Blackberries while oblivious to our initial intentions (sorry ladies, we saw your booty before we saw your brain). Meanwhile, men shower women with adoration then expect them to scale that desire for attention 100% back once they are in a relationship. If you are not prepared to replace the love and affection she was receiving from the free world when you met her, including all those FREE drinks you were buying her and that burning desire you had to see her everyday, maybe you should date uglier women. Now there’s a thought . . . Nah! Besides, they want attention too. ABORT. RETRY. FAIL.

Enter both word below, separated by a space.


DaTiNg CoMpLeX!


Are you sure you want to send?


Sidebar: Through further journalist efforts (more lying,) I have uncovered what Online P.I.M.P.’s really mean when they use Internet jargon.

Men
LOL –Laying Out the Labia
ROFL – Rolling on the Floor Lovemaking
SMH- Shaking My Head (and not the one on my shoulders)
SMDH – Same as above, ‘nuff said
LMAO – Lusting My Ass Off

Women
LOL – Living Our Lives together (don’t worry about the “T”. You think it’s easy coming up with this sh*t?)
ROFL – Reliant On Finding Love
SMH – Marry me
SMDH – Marry me now
LMAO – Marry me now some more!


Sidebar Complezete.” Eep OP Orp Ah Ah!”

In Da Club

In Pop Culture, Self Help on October 1, 2008 at 5:55 pm

Who doesn’t love the disco? The driving music, beautiful people littered about, and sweet libations, all vying for your much divided attention. The temptations are everywhere, imploring that you let your hair down, take a load off, and relax (and possibly purchase some of Columbian’s finest if you frequented a Peter Gatien establishment). Night clubs can be enjoyable but they also play host to a cornucopia of illicit transgressions, and like an aging prostitute with low self esteem, it’s way too easy to indulge. Anything that comes easy and feels great (except for me) should probably be avoided at all cost. Today we will examine the contributing factors of what makes the club the club and how partaking in said activities can kill you, or at least have several attempts made on your life (mostly by your significant other).

Alcohol – The club is probably the only venue where aspiring alcoholics are free to congregate without fear of retaliation. And what can be said about alcohol consumption that hasn’t already been said about Chinese Similak? It’ll have your kidneys romancing stones, make you ornery in your medulla oblongata, and if not properly regulated, kill the shit out of you! Alcohol can also get your ass kicked when liquid courage starts to flow through your bloodstream and your perceived invulnerability bubbles to the surface, much like your bottom lip will once the swelling settles in. Can you count the amount of verbal / physical altercations you have witnessed or participated in directly attributed to its usage? Alcohol minimizes inhibitions and allows you to act without filter. It is also a great way to relieve stress (other than maybe making relevant changes in your life to reduce the stress that causes you to drink in the first place). After watching you drunken, belligerent assholes stagger about for the last 15 years however, I can safely say that no one should be allowed to govern without filter. Given the terrible decisions made when inebriated (drunk driving, conceiving ugly children, telling the truth, etc), I wouldn’t mind seeing the return of prohibition (right after I move to Amsterdam).

C.R.E.A.M (Pt. 1) – Have you ever tried to calculate how much money you spend when you hit up the bars and clubs? If you went out 50 times a year and spent only 20 dollars each outing, you would have spent 10,000 dollars over the last 10 years (and you also apparently have a GPS for 2 for 1 drink specials). We all go out more than that and we have all spent waaaay more than that per outing, especially when we get into a “who can buy the most bottles of Moet” competition with our boys. And yes, my cheap ass lost. Anything above 2.5 bottles is beyond my realm of fiscal responsibility. Other plausible disco infused excuses for paying Con Edison late this month are a) after work “networking” affairs b) Becky Sue gives you the eye and you may have a shot . . . tonight c) Becky Sue and her wing women also get drinks because you are definitely calling Becky a cab . . . in the morning d) you just got paid and you can’t let perfectly good money go to waste on food and heat e) any sporting event f) every sporting event g) you get the point.

Fresh to Death (C.R.E.A.M Pt. 2) – Over priced, watered down, rufie infested drinks are but a fraction of the total cost associated with clubbing. There is also fashion. One must show up dressed to impress and that one of a kind, blonde mole hair sweater vest with the leather buttons where the nipples should be is a must have for the next soiree (and it’s a steal for only $450). This probably explains why we play the wall so close instead of actually dancing. Do you realize how hard it is to get Timberland prints out of purple suede shoes (which I actually bought and wore to Speed many many moons ago) I came to the club to be seen and I can’t get sweat or stains on any of my luxury items so a lackluster 2-step will have to suffice. Let me save you all some trouble. Give me half the monies spent on all this crap and I will gladly slur my speech, dress up like a clown, make a fool of myself, and vomit all over your Gordon Gartrell originals. I do it because I care.

The Forbidden Dance – The kids call it dancing these days but when I was growing up, we called it humping. If I got the type of action when I was in fifth grade that I get in the clubs, I would have been the dry humping king of Brooklyn and the envy of my peers. So let me get this straight; I can position my semi erect penis on your backside while gyrating at 56 miles per hour to the smooth sounds of Doo Doo Brown, and not get arrested? Sign me up! Ladies, can you imagine some guy coming from behind you on your way to work and humping the shit out of your back thigh? Pepper spray would most likely be the end result of that encounter. Under normal circumstances, this behavior is considered lewd and indecent, but in the club, it is protocol. Sidebar; Do you know how fucked up it looks when a guy approaches you and starts dancing but when you see his face, clearly, your demeanor changes and you act like you just came to hold your girlfriend’s purse? Then when Fonzie shows up, you gals casually but not so subtly make your way over to his area and dance around him like a cat pissing on a tree until he acknowledges your existence. As men, we learn to embrace and even laugh at rejection but it is crazy that physical attraction is a pre requisite just to dance with someone (it’s not that crazy since this is probably the reason we snuck up on you in the first place). Maybe the type of dancing going on is way too intimate if you need aesthetic clearance and an AIDS test before you can bust a move. Sidebar complete.

Now if you have a significant other and you 2 party separately or together, dancing at the club takes on a whole new light. I have had to “woosa” on several occasions after witnessing some guy’s mangina hovering above a girlfriend’s backside like a mosquito searching for an entry point. Am I the jealous type? Not really. But you are asking for a whole lot if you think men are comfortable with their girlfriend massaging foreign crotches with their ass in dark dwellings after consuming multiple apple martinis. And you ladies should be leery also. I may get my man license temporarily suspended for disclosing information but you gals probably already know this. Men go to the club for 2 reasons essentially; sex immediately and sex in the future. We can drink and listen to music at home if we wanted to so it aint Funkmaster Flex and fuzzy navels we’re after. Men will abandon all logic, obligations, and leave our crippled grandmothers in the street if the opportunity for booty arises (sorry nana). My suggestion; If you aint single, stay out of the club son! It is called a SINGLES club for a reason. And if you absolutely have to go out and dance, how about reigniting the jitterbug or the twist as alternative dance mediums? Instead of doing the Dutty Wine or the Cock Slap or whatever skin-emax inspired dance move you conjured up, why not Krump instead (especially to slow jams)? You may look like an idiot doing it but you will still have a significant other when you get home so take it easy with those pelvic thrusts.

P.S: I want to give a special DJ Clue “Do remember” to Club Speed, Q Club, Krystals, Frying Pan, Nells, The Palladium, The Tunnel, Cheetahs, Biltmore, Bentleys, and all the other venues responsible for my disco experiences. And what’s the name of that spot we all swore we would never go to because it was an indication of old age? You know the one? The place where all the people dressed like they just came from the Player Haters Ball after party? SHADOW!! I am of age now but I still ain’t going!!

PPS: Honorable mention to all the oversized, 6 foot 7, raw meat eating bouncers who graduated from the Bruise Your Nuts Institute of Frisking and Pat Downs!

P.P.P.S: What about the long ass lines just to get in? By the time you make it to the front, the price of admission sky rocketed. Inflation is a bitch! I can still smell the sulfur on you charlatan club promoter’s hoofs (and I should know that smell for I was a card carrying member myself). 20 dollars before 12 am but the door won’t budge until 11:59. In yah face ah!

It Was All Good Just a Week Ago

In Pop Culture on August 6, 2008 at 11:31 am

I was jamming to Lil’ Wayne this morning and 3 weeks into the album, I realized I had already grown weary of his latest offering. In addition to the single being remixed almost a millie times (the Jadakiss version, the Jay-Z version, the Barry Manilow featuring Celine Dion extended remix & of course, the Ronald Reagan featuring Gilbert Godfreid dance mega mix), the constant airplay and never ending mediums from which one is exposed is well beyond my realm of consumption. More concerning than over saturation of pop culture is the alacrity in which it becomes antiquated (shit gets old quick fast and in a hurry). It is almost to the extent that 106 & Park’s throwback song of the day has not yet been released but will be available in few weeks when the album debuts.

These fickle practices are well ingrained in society’s modus operandi. I am almost ashamed to make phone calls in public due to the antiquity of my cell phone. I purchased my phone in 2006 and by today’s standards, that is comparable to the Mesozoic era. The phone may as well have a rotary dial that connects directly to the operator (the nasally voiced, available only in black & white, plug the wire in the switchboard to connect your call, actual human operator, circa 1942). I cannot take 13 megapixel photos nor can I download the cure for herpes via You tube. My phone does have tons of amenities however which is what makes the ridicule from my peers all the more absurd. I can take photos (although the mega pixels are worthy of Enzyte), surf the web, text message, and lastly and least importantly, place & receives calls (but mostly it serves as my Tetris battleground). Sidebar; It’s amazing how society has invested so heavily in technology only to be relegated to passing notes in class, which is essentially what text messages are. People send text messages most often when they should be paying attention to the task at hand. Texting while @ the movies, driving, @ work, or at your ex girlfriend’s house while your current girlfriend is returning your text from her ex boyfriend’s apartment. Sidebar complete. Never mind the fact that the phone falls apart exactly one week before the 2 year contract expires. We have grown to accept dispensable products and I am not sure whether the insatiable desire for change drives the market or the three headed monster that is capitalism governs our perceived needs. What I do know is that by the time I am done writing this, I will need a new computer, my windows software will need to be upgraded, and I will have to print on paperless paper.

Worse in my not so humble opinion is when these disposable practice rears its ugly head in the dating arena. I am a heterosexual man in NY and let’s face it, I have more options than I can shake a stick at. Heaven forbid I am gainfully employed, baby momma free, and half way attractive (I am full way attractive by the way in case you were all wondering). Now with all these choices afforded to me, why should I settle down when I can replace anyone who is slightly not to my liking both physically and mentally? Back in my day, your girlfriend had no breasts and a fat ass and you accepted it and smacked her ass frequently and as voraciously as statutory laws permitted. And you liked it! Today, if her eye lashes are not centered, it’s time you start entertaining other options. What reason is there to settle when one has the pick of the litter at all times? But how then am I to locate the ever elusive life partner when all candidates arrive with flaws and a lifetime warranty?

The caveat to all these available choices is choosing when not to choose. Just because the refrigerator is laden with goodies doesn’t mean you eat everything. Just because you can have meaningless sex with multiple partners (and 3 small monkeys in New Guinea) doesn’t mean you indulge. As always, over consumption leads to gluttony which last I checked, remains 100% self destructive. Far be it from me to point the finger however for I am a cog in the matrix and I do play my part well. So the next time you are driving your SUV while texting your other beau on your new I-phone 4G (coming soon), ask yourself; is the solution to my problem obtaining more or appreciating what I already have? I would love to answer personally but I just got a text on my Motorola Boysenberry XJ9 about the new a millie remix featuring Barack Obama and Paris HIlton. Thanks for your time.