In light of the possibility of a John Edwards sex tape, this post from June ’07 seemed appropriate.
So, one of the more odd things about yours truly is my peculiar interest in and ability to retain information pertaining to pop culture. Perhaps it’s a sad commentary on society in the post-modern era (whatever the fuck that means), but I would feel infinitely more confident entering a pop culture show than I would a history one. It’s not to say I can’t fucks with some Jeopardy!, but it is to say I remember a lot of worthless information.
What’s particularly weird is, though I semi-actively seek to stay hip to the game, unless a pop topic is brought up, I don’t really discuss it with other people. More often than not, it is unlikely I’ll open up a conversation with, “Did you see what so and so was wearing at the Emmy Awards?”, but I’ll absolutely know what so and so was wearing. I just generally keep the information to myself. Is it out of shame? I don’t think so. I suppose it’s just one of those quirks about your boy.
Anyway, I was perusing one of my favorite website, thesuperficial.com, and the most recent post on the site was devoted to pictures of Kim Kardashian living her life. To bring up to speed those of you who have better things to do with your lives than know who she is, Kardashian is the daughter of Robert–one of the lawyers who proved O.J. was innocent, friend to Paris Hilton (though I’m not sure they’re peoples anymore) and the vagina of Ray J’s sex tape. In these pictures on the website, Kardashian’s booty looks other-worldly. Literally, it just looks so good that it’s not to be believed. Now I don’t know how half-Armenians get down, but this was just absurd. I needed a consultation.
Talking to my home girl Ms. Thomas-Littleton, I sent the link to her for her perusal. I tend to believe girls have a better eye for certain things than dudes, mainly because the straight ones don’t want to have sex with what they’re looking at. Upon inspection, MTL thought her ass was a cosmetic fakery, noting that the thigh to butt ratio just didn’t add up.
I’m no one’s doctor, so I can’t really tell you if you can fake a donkey butt. What I do know is happening across these photos piqued my curiosity about her sex tape with Raymond Norwood (which is something of a porny name when you think about it), brother of Brandy. After searching the world wide web for a bit (Sidebar 1: Sometimes, the internet is utterly unhelpful) I discovered the tape in full. Eager to see what the sex tape gods had wrought, I clicked on the link. My date with destiny had begun. Read the rest of this entry »
INT. – NIGHT– THE BEDROOM
Jon is seated on the bed, plugging in his cellular phone. The Feath enters the room, freshly showered. She has a look of mild astonishment on her face as she feels her belly, a belly that contains the ever-growing Franchise.
THE FEATH: Dude, I can’t see my vagina anymore.
Jon ponders this a moment. He beckons The Feath over, smiles and rubs her belly thoughtfully.
JON: Well…it is kind of kind of in a cave now.
Twitterin’ (heeey) sing-le
Oooh, In a 1-0 kind of world
I’m glad I’ve got Twit-ter!
Confession: My Twitter feed is fairly one-note. There’s a spectrum certainly, but even that spectrum falls under the category of “Stuff I’ll tolerate reading 140-characters at a time.” Thus, I don’t have too many people who are, in my opinion, batshit crazy and perpetually insufferable. I once referred to Twitter as the college dining hall for grown-ups and that still applies. The people whom I follow are people who I would sit at a table and shoot the shit with. Read the rest of this entry »
As you may or may not be aware, a new decade will begin on Friday. Since lists are what people do at the end of things because paragraphs with common threads are just entirely too difficult to cobble together, I’ve followed suit with a random hodge-podge of observations, thoughts and things learned over the course of ten years.
2000: We were league champions after going on an improbably post-season run. Knocked off Wheeler, 53-51. In my career, we only beat Wheeler once. Lesson: Only one game counts.
2001: 9/11. Vagina. Lesson: You can learn all things from war and genitals.
2002: High school graduation.Robert Horry hit that shot against the Kings. on my graduation day. Lesson: Robert Horry is the Butterfly Effect.
2003: Yale. The Michelle. Being an idiot regarding several things, mostly The Michelle-related. Lesson: Flattery is the key to infidelity.
2004: The College Dropout (album and real life). Lesson: Being a nightclub bouncer is infinitely more interesting than folding pants at the Gap.
2005: Yale, again. The Justice League. Argentina with The Intercontinental Champ. Lesson: You can always go home again, but it might not be how you left it.
2006: The best and worst day of college happened on the same day. Iberia. Lesson: Sometimes, you have to make trades, especially when you don’t have a choice. Also, sometimes friendship is no friend at all.
2007: Yale graduation. Lesson: Getting in is easier than finishing.
2008: The Spirit Warrior’s Dream. The Feath. The Election. Lesson: It’s usually the one you never saw coming.
2009: Freezing at the Inauguration. Brougham gets married. The Feath begins work on The Franchise. Lesson: It’s about grown man time…
I don’t have any personal investment in Tiger Woods’ personal life. Frankly, with each new trick that takes her lunch break to give US Weekly an exclusive scoop, I find myself feeling terrible for Elin Woods and their children. A wife and children deserve better than this. Still, I have to admit I find the newfound outrage regarding Tiger Woods’ jump-off choice particularly amusing. Many Black folks have wasted little time pointing out that all of Tiger’s jump-offs have been white. Read the rest of this entry »
Some things are beyond my ability to understand. Like, I get them…but I don’t.
1. I don’t get how the Church is holding the government hostage on abortion. If Church and State are supposed to be separated, how is the State getting its ass handed to it? Reform hangs in the balance because the Church doesn’t like something? Why is the discussion even going there? It’s not like the State would ever even consider telling the Church what to do with regard to church business.
1A. Since we’re supposed to be a secular nation and our laws are set up as such but we don’t really make a point of conducting ourselves like a secular nation, why don’t we just drop the charade and say that we’re a Christian nation and get it over with?
2. Some guys can pump and pump and pump and pump and not come. I’m sure there’s an explanation, but I don’t get it.
3. People get really mad at politicians for not doing the right thing–which is reasonable–but neglect to remember that politicians are people with power just trying to keep their jobs.*
4. Why people cry in court after being caught committing a crime. I’m especially puzzled by the gun-toting knuckleheads who swore they were nice before they got the cuffs slapped on them.
5. I don’t get how you could rape a five-year-old girl. Believe me, I’m not an advocate of raping any-year-old anybody, but a five year old girl, dude? Like, who are the people that are going to sit across from you and think, “You know what? I totally get it”?
6. I don’t get Beyonce’s life, namely, the way she inexplicably makes the same song and video with impunity for mysterious reasons. Jagged Edge never got such breaks. She’s super duper made it, why can’t she venture out just a little bit?
7. Women in R&B seem to all have traded pants for thigh-high boots. Maybe pants aren’t edgy?
*This probably answers #1 rather nicely.
INT. – NIGHT
Jon and The Feath are sitting in bed. A heated discussion over positive thinking is in progress. Jon shrugs off such things in a fit of melancholy. The Feath has heard enough.
THE FEATH: I can’t! Jon…you could be great at so many things. I just…sometimes, I wanna punch you in the face, knock you on your butt and say “Hurts don’t it?” then pick you up and dust you off and go on with our life.*
JON considers this and thinks about a saucy retort. Then actually listens. Then laughs hysterically. The saucy dame had something of a point.
FADE TO BLACK
*”Hurts don’t it?” is from the Kurt Russell tour de force Tombstone, a favorite quoted multiple times a week since we’ve met.
As I consider the issue of gay marriage, I find myself mulling over the definition of “law.” I understand that doing such a thing is nearly a study in psychopathy considering the fact that laws are defined by dominant culture, customs, beliefs, hope, fear, etc. Still, I mull.
In the case of gay marriage, I puzzle over why this matter is up for a vote at all.
Legally, marriage is a contract with the State–a State which allegedly separates itself from church matters. While the existence of God can be argued forever, what can’t be argued is that, in America, you have to get a license to get hitched. Just like you need one to drive a car.
Now, in order to get a drivers’ license–a State contract–you need to pass certain tests–providing a birth certificate, social security card, knowing the laws of the road, an eye exam. If you screw up, you can get your license revoked.
All of these measure are taken in the interest of public safety, which is reasonable. Improper use of a car can kill people. If someone wanted the necessity of drivers’ license placed on a ballot, they’d be laughed out of town.
So what of marriage? Do two men or two women getting married pose a threat? Is there a fear that they’ll take their marriage careening into a flea market while not producing children? Read the rest of this entry »