Monica Wants To Hear Your Ho Story

Are you a ho? Do you mess around with them? Do you have a ho on the sideline? Are you a sideline ho yourself (nasty ass!)? If so, Monica wants to her your tale. Clearly desperate for attention, Monica is launching what is arguably one of the tackiest campaigns to push a single in recent memory.

What’s the prize for the fan with the best ho story? Why a trip to the Soul Train Awards, of course! What other crowd would be more accepting ? No word on whether the winner also receives a complimentary bottle of Hennessy (they’ve upped her budget) and a three piece dinner from Church’s.

To those of you considering entering this moral-boosting competition, be forewarned: “3. UPLOAD video (We approve all videos – so no R-rated confessions)”

Yes, there will be no naughty confessions on Youtube, you hear! The people at Youtube are feriously hard at work to preserve the sanctity of a song entitled “Sideline Ho.”

Also, make sure you go out and cop Monica’s latest mixtape.

And Jesus wept. Actually, I’m doubting that. He’s probably laughing at Monica’s ass like everyone else.

Spotted @ C & D.

A Part Of Me Just Died Inside

“Janet Jackson has come aboard to star opposite Tyler Perry in his next film, “Why Did I Get Married,” based on the filmmaker’s stage play of the same name.”

Source (of personal torture).

I Want An Oscar, Too!

Spending the entire day to prep for an uber-formal award show to receive the highly-coveted award for Best Actress and what is the first thing you go and do once the show is a wrap? Stuff your face with something actresses decades your junior would only eat if they were in the close proximity of a toilet bowl? Now that is class and if I didn’t like Helen Mirren before, I love her now!

In any event, I’m not doing a full recap of the Oscars. This is the first time I’ve ever watched this show in its entirety. I did not fall asleep. As braggadocios as this may seem, I am incredibly proud of myself for that alone, so I needn’t give anything else.

I keed.

Here are some of my favorite moments from the real show (according to E! anyway): the red carpet.

In accepting her award, Jennifer Hudson told the audience, “Look what God can do.” I’d like to point out what Hanna-Barbara, Oscar de la Renta, and a queen with major fashion faux pas on the brain can do.

I don’t know whether I want to ask Jennifer where’s Elroy Jetson or to heat up my Hotpocket.

I really like Anika Noni Rose. She’s so bubbly, cute, and short. Minus the ones that suffer from Napoleon complex, I love short people. However, I can’t help but notice that Anika looks like she ought to be spending the nite in a club spinning atop the ceiling as Rick James explodes from the speakers. But, she’s short and adorable, so, eh, turn up “Superfreak.”

No, she is not whispering in her ear, “I’ll trade you Kelly for one night with the Oscar.” I don’t know why it’s so hard to believe that Beyonce is genuinely happy for someone else. Of course, she likely is just a tid bit salty that she missed out on a Vogue cover and Academy Award, but I’m inclined to think she’ll still go on to have the better career — and that includes film.

Yeah, I said it.

That’s probably what they’re laughing about, too.

I just wanted to show another picture of Beyonce. I think she looks amazing in that dress. H-Town, Stay Down.

Finally, congrats to Jennifer and Forrest! The industry may not be changing overnight, but baby steps have been made. Don’t believe me? Forrest thanked his wife, Keisha! An Academy Award winning actor has a wife named Keisha! A normal name (well to me anyway)! Now tell me that ain’t progress!

How great was it to see so many black actors nominated for Academy Awards? How great is it to see some actually win?

Memo to Jesse: While I agree with you that there needs to be more black representation in Hollywood, we need to raise our standards. Two Can Play That Came, Norbit, and ATL aren’t going to wow the Academy.

And The Oscar Goes To…

In honor of tonight’s Academy Awards, I would like to send a special shout out to video guls all over the world. I concede that, I, too, have mocked many a “video model” that has popped, twirked, and dropped it to the floor in several rapper’s videos trying to convince us, the general public, that their spirited gyrations serve as nothing more than stepping stones to their true life callings: careers as serious actresses.

Ever cynical, I have often lumped that fodder as nothing more than utter bullshit and a piss poor way of deflecting from the obvious: A video set comprised of exposed ass cheeks, Christal, and barely-literate emcees a successful acting career not make. However, 2:12 into this video I began to question such logic. And then, at 2:57 into the video, I realized that it’s my logic that’s flawed.

That’s right: That is exactly who you think it is. The first black actress to win the coveted Best Actress Oscar and eternal victim herself, Halle “Do Something To Make Me Feel Good” Berry. From the looks of this dramatic scene performed in the video for “Honey Love,” a personal favorite of mine from the 90s, Halle seems to be already practicing for the role she would later tackle more than a decade later that would lead to her winning her Oscar.

So, if you, like me, have chastised these burgeoning actresses for allowing themselves to be defiled for chump change, perhaps you ought to be a little less judgmental, as yesterday’s debasement can lead to tomorrow’s place on the A-List. Don’t be surprised if you one day see Melyssa Ford thanking Jesus and Jay-Z for the opportunities bestowed on her. Halle Berry doesn’t even have rhythm in the video, and look where she is today!

She Dances The Way She Drives

I saw this posted on a message board. I forgot all about this concert. For all of you Brandy fans, sit back and reminisce about a time when Brandy was remembered for more than being a judge on an American Idol knockoff show with a poor driving record. Brandy doesn’t have a braid’s worth of rhythm in her, but before she became the poster child for driver’s education, she was a force to be reckoned with in the 90s. Enjoy it while you can: I’m sure Youtube will have it taken down within 48 hours.

When Daddy’s Little Girls Meet R&B’s Big Pisser

I realize that I may possibly be breaking a cardinal sin with this admission, but it must be said that I am not a fan of Tyler Perry’s films.

Outside of the occasional chuckle, I find them to be largely stereotypical, irrational, and poorly developed. In a nutshell: If you’ve seen one Tyler Perry film, you’ve seen them all.

I do understand why his audience lauds them, though. Fans of his work essentially want a good laugh and a message that follows their own beliefs.

Amen.

I think that’s fine, actually. But for me, there’s just something about yet another black man donning a wig to emasculate himself portraying the same trite stereotype from the brainchild of a white person of an overweight black women we’ve viewed again and again that bothers me. I’ll admit that I have laughed at the Madea character a number of times. I’ve grimaced at the character almost an equal number of times, however.

I, surprisingly, saw this film on Valentine’s Day with the Queen-to-be herself. It was exactly what I expected: The same plays on themes employed in Perry’s previous films and plays that draws hysterical laugher from audiences and visual frowns from me. The usual hokey dialogue that reminds me that there are books and courses centered on screenwriting for a reason. And of course, the same tragic beginning and miraculous ending that’s devoid of reality — which is what the audience seemingly wants.

I knew how this movie would begin and end based on the trailer I saw several months ago. To be fair, albeit minuscule, Tyler Perry has shown growth as a writer and filmmaker. There seems to have been some effort on his part as a director, screenwriter, and cast director to make this film of greater quality than previous offerings.

Idris Elba did well. Gabby played the same character she normally does in films, but to her credit, I enjoyed this portrayal at least 79 times more out of the total 85 she’s done it.

I don’t knock Perry’s hustle. I congratulate him on his success. Despite the minstrel-like quality present, he means well. You realize his good intentions by the myriad of messages Perry incorporates in the dialogue of his films and plays.

That of course, brings me to the point of this entry.

Can someone – and hopefully a Tyler Perry fan – explain to me how a man who fills his movies with messages that hark on uplifting the race, in addition to the Christian overtones dominant in his work can start off his latest film with an R.Kelly song – a pedophile?

Before you say, “It’s alright to separate the man from the music,” I encourage you to research the story of the Pied Piper, and then proceed to look at his discography and really think about the parallels present. Pissy is throwing it our faces that he loves the kids. Most people are just too busy moving their body like a snake to notice.

A movie entitled Daddy’s Little Girls is kicked off with a song performed by a man obviously on a bet to discover the number of different ways he can escape court dates that will tackle his illegal affinity for little girls.

To quote another popular trend that combined faith and commerce, “WWJD?”

Dreamgirls Make Black History

When I first heard the rumor that Jennifer Hudson would be gracing the cover of Vogue, my initial reaction was, “Negro, grow up.” When I saw the March issue of Vogue and saw Jennifer Hudson on the cover, I headed over to Google to find out if Anna Wintour died. I am not a Vogue aficionado, but I do know Anna Wintour hasn’t placed many black women on the cover, let alone anyone of Jennifer Hudson’s size. I remember hearing that even the Goddess of Media herself, Oprah Winfrey, was forced by Wintour to lose a substantial amount of weight before she could appear on the cover. So, although Jennifer Hudson is purposely placed in a position to mask her atypical(to the fashion world anyway…everyone else eats) figure, it’s still quite a feat for all of Hudson to appear on cover. Apparently, Hudson is the first black female in over twenty years to appear on the uber important March issue (I love the internet for explaining why this is such a big deal as I am someone without a clue), and one of only a handful of black women who have been allowed to serve the fashion bible with a well needed dose of melanin.

Hudson has been enjoying a publicity blitz that includes the covers of Essence and Giant magazines, as well as a bevy of praise in the media for what seemingly seems to be an Oscar-winning performance of fallen Dreamgirl, Effie White.

But for Hudson to grace the cover of Vogue is quite the coo. Undoubtedly, it’s something co-star Beyonce Knowles has lobbied to get, but unfortunately, the editor-in-chief is thinking more Heavy, Heavy this go ’round.

Me thinks Beyonce and the original and very much embittered Effie, Jennifer Holliday, are somewhere co-writing a suicide note.

But alas, Beyonce wouldn’t be Beyonce if she didn’t try to find a way to steal some spotlight a way from the next chick. Beyonce is the second black female and the first non-athlete or model to appear on the coveted swimsuit issue of Sports Illustrated. It’s no Vogue, but for the Popeyes-munching beauty, it’s still a worthy of mention accomplishment.

However, once you take a look at this video posted on SI.com, you get the sense that this is nothing more than another opportunity for Beyonce to sell us something else — namely her repackaged B’Day album and her mother’s latest venture in tackying up the world: a House of Dereon swimsuit line. The seas haven’t seen anything this frightening since Jaws.

The 2007 Grammy Awards: In Cynical Form

The 49th annual Grammy Awards were held last night, and there’s no other way to sum up the show than by saying this: It encouraged illegal downloading.

I have been quickly reminded by my friends that the show was much better than last year’s. That’s not saying much, though, since I can’t remember one thing from the 2006 Grammys. Can you?

In any event, some of the lowlights include Beyonce’s underwhelming performance of her anti-“And I Am Telling You” song from Dreamgirls, “Listen.” I have never seen Beyonce that boring. Robot she may be, but the robot is always on come performance time. However, last night, ‘Yonce’s voice sounded flat and exhausted, she appeared stiff, and she was dressed like an extra from The Little Mermaid. Jennifer Hudson must have kidnapped Sasha.

Another performance of poor note is the tribute to R&B which featured three generations of R&B male crooners – including legendary songwriters and vocalists Smokey Robinson and Lionel Richie, along with the representative of the new generation, Usher 2.0 and tallest dancer in the world himself, Chris Brown.

The performance seemed like a visual presentation of the decline of R&B. Smokey The Green Eyed Monster began the tribute by singing his classic song with the Miracles, “The Tracks of My Tears.” Nicole Richie’s pops followed with a performance of his own classic, “Hello.”

And then came Chris.

For a minute, I thought someone slipped in a bootleg copy of Stomp The Yard into my DVD player, because Chris started stepping as if they were at his probate. Chris then proceeded to dance, do various backflips, jump and down, dance some more, and just incase we weren’t convinced that he tall do people do indeed have rhythm, danced again. I believe he was performing his hit, “Run It,” but he didn’t actually sing much of it. Thank God for backing tracks!

Mary was Mary. The Police’s performance was rather short, and with all due respect to my elders, forgettable.

Shakira performed “Hips Don’t Lie” — again. Hips may not lie, but I see they damn sure never shut up.

Justin pretended to be Elton John…again. As for that random close up towards the end of his performance of “What Goes Around,” I never want to see him that close again. Someone please break the camera he has attached to his piano. I was starting to think I was Cameron Diaz.

One of the biggest disappointing performances of the night belonged to a surprisingly subdued Red Hot Chilli Peppers. Sobriety and age have turned them into walking ads for Tylenol PM. Oh yeah, when did Will Ferrell start playing with the Chilli Peppers?

Ok, I know, you’re thinking, “Where’s the positivity on a blog called The Cynical Ones?”

Never fear, it’s coming.

Ten minutes later

Got it! Christina Aguilera! Minus that odd , dying cat-like note towards the end, I think “Miss I Can Sing, I Can Sing, Don’t Look at Britney, Look At Me, I’m Dirrty and I Can Sing” did a good job of covering the inspiration behind Alicia Keys’ first hit song, “Fallin'” (Yeah I’m saying it: Alicia is a biter and a thief!), James Brown’s notorious, “This Is A Man’s World.”

Of course, not everyone seems to agree about Christina’s performance. Granted, she oversang the song as usual, but with so many people undersinging, me thinks we ought to be happy with what we get.

Now, on to the real story of the night:

Ike Turner was awarded his first Grammy in 35 years. On winning his award, Ike said, “I’m scared to death.” Ike was probably afraid he’d get busted after the show by the po-pos, or someone possibly going upside his head for a change. In any event, he’s a pioneer in music, and it’s nice to be reminded when people you haven’t heard from in forever are still alive.

Somewhere Anna Mae Bullock is fuming.

I Can Tell Who Didn’t Go To/Finish College

I think it’s wrong to generalize. It’s not right to lump an entire group into some monolith just because a few of them fall in line with some stereotypical view you hold.

With that being said, a lot of NBA players are fucking idiots.

Since it’s been revealed that former NBC center John Amaechi (yeah, I haven’t a clue as to who he is either) is gay and plans on writing a book about his experiences as a closeted gay man and professional athlete (or bench warmer, take your pick), a lot of people have been commenting on the newest member of the openly gay male professional athletes club.

I’m assuming this club has only about three and a half members. I say half, because I wouldn’t be shocked if one of them is still holding out and claiming to be bisexual.

In any event, of those who have commented on Amaechi’s (yeah, I still don’t know who this guy is) disclosure, most of have been waiting on word from other players in the league.

LeBron James, however, said he didn’t think an openly gay person could survive in the league.

“With teammates you have to be trustworthy, and if you’re gay and you’re not admitting that you are, then you are not trustworthy,” James said. “So that’s like the No. 1 thing as teammates — we all trust each other. You’ve heard of the in-room, locker room code. What happens in the locker room stays in there. It’s a trust factor, honestly. A big trust factor.”

I appreciate LeBron’s honesty. Not everyone that tall reveals how short their length of thinking is. I don’t see the correlation between discussing who you choose to lay down with and who you pass the ball to on the court.

I get the point LeBron is trying to make, but one has to consider the amount of pressure an openly gay male athlete would have to deal with in a locker room setting. People harbor many prejudices and they’re exuded in each asinine comment they make, creating a hostile environment for any man that chooses to make his sexual orientation public.

Injured Philadelphia Sixers forward Shavlik Randolph acknowledged it’s a new situation.

“As long as you don’t bring your gayness on me I’m fine, Randolph said. “As far as business-wise, I’m sure I could play with him. But I think it would create a little awkwardness in the locker room.”

And Sixer center Steven Hunter:

Even so, Hunter said he would be fine with an openly gay teammate.

“As long as he don’t make any advances toward me I’m fine with it,” he said. “As long as he came to play basketball like a man and conducted himself like a good person, I’d be fine with it.”

Asinine comments like these, for example. Count all of the stereotypes. The notion that every gay man wants to “turn out” every heterosexual male in a five mile radius. The idea that every gay man is effeminate. And my personal favorite, the stigma of being a deviant attached to every admitted homosexual.

I can see why someone I’ve never heard of is the first openly gay NBA player.

Could someone please enlighten these millionaires on this missed tidbit of information: You can’t catch the gay!

Not every man (or woman for that matter) wants you, nor does every gay man secretly long to participate in the Vagina Monologues.

As for that “good person” comment, since when is the NBA known for holding high moral standards for its players?

To be fair:

Orlando’s Grant Hill, who said he didn’t know Amaechi when he was with the Magic, also applauded the decision to go public.

“The fact that John has done this, maybe it will give others the comfort or confidence to come out as well, whether they are playing or retiring,” Hill said.

If we had more players in the league like Grant (but not get constantly injured, of course), perhaps more players with names we actually recognize would be open about who they are. Until then, I see the themes of denial and ignorance surrounding this issue.

NBA commissioner David Stern said a player’s sexuality wasn’t important.

“We have a very diverse league. The question at the NBA is always ’Have you got game?’ That’s it, end of inquiry,” he said.

Who actually believes this? If you do, let me grab a marker and scribble 500 on a big rock and sell you a Mercedes.

Ted Haggard: No Homo

Remember Ted Haggard, the former President of the National Association of Evangelicals and the former presiding pastor of the 14,000 member New Life Church in Colorado Springs? He’s the one that got his ass tossed from both positions last year after it was revealed that Pastor Teddy enjoys getting his ass tossed by a male prostitute. That and the good reverend admitted to regularly purchasing crystal meth from his “special friend.”

Word has come out from one of the four pastors “treating him” that he’s “completely heterosexual.”

Rev. Tim Ralph of Larkspur told the Denver Post on Tuesday that, “He is completely heterosexual,” Ralph said. “That is something he discovered. It was the acting-out situations where things took place. It wasn’t a constant thing.”

I see. He was only a little gay. Only a tiny bit, not nearly enough to warrant the complete homosexual label. Ted was just a hom, if nothing else.

On Sunday, Haggard emailed his congregation. You can read the complete email here.

Highlights from the letter include:

Jesus is starting to put me back together. I have spent so much time in repentance, brokenness, hurt and sorrow for the things I’ve done and the negative impact my actions have had on others. That sadness continues as my family and I, along with so many others, go through the painful consequences of my actions. Jesus and his followers, though, have saved my life. As part of New Life’s efforts to help me, they sent Gayle and me to Phoenix for a three-week psychological intensive that gave us three years worth of analysis and treatment. We all wanted to know why I developed such incongruity in my life.

So a man obviously gay turns his life over to his religion thinking that will suppress his natural urges. It turns out it doesn’t, so he then turns to a male prostitute that sells him drugs that help him forget about the pain spawned from the self-hatred he bears. The male prostitute also provides him with the means and the hole to temporarily give into “temptation” i.e. his natural sexual urges. Once it’s discovered what a hole he’s dug himself in, instead of owning up to the truth that he is a gay man, he instead opts for a new method of brainwashing via a stay in an intensive psychiatric center that could probably make a hairy 300-pound man believe he is Beyonce if that lie is drilled into his head long enough.

We haven’t decided where we are moving but so far have been offered two places, one in Iowa and one in Missouri. We are both planning on getting our masters in Psychology so we can work together serving others the rest of our lives.

Instead of truly forgiving you for your deceitful ways, these pseudo-sympathizers instead cast you off to some other state, as you’re a reminder of their own hypocrisies. Never mind the opportunity to serve as a true example of the power of forgiveness, and add credence to your own religious dogma that argues God is forgiving and loves all of his creations. You instead would rather misinterpret Jesus’ notion of turning the other cheek and send him a way, for the sole purpose of maintaining an image that leads people like Ted Haggard to go on crystal meth and have sex with prostitutes to begin with.

And Jesus wept.

But as God and people like you forgive me, the sun is starting to rise in my life. I look forward to communicating with greater ease.

Not to mention masturbating in the privacy of your own home to some man you have a secret relationship with on the internet.

Alls well that ends well.