Good News

Not that I ever believed her, but for several years now, Beyonce has been talking about wanting to retire at the age of 30 so she can settle down and have some big head babies. I tend to never believe artists when they talk about retiring, though for a second there I worried she might scale back after marrying Jigga. One kid alone could spread those hips wider than the Mississippi — and we all know our girl loves her some Popeyes. He done a put a ring on it, so the fear that after a two piece of chicken and kids she might up and decide at 29 1/2, “Let Rihanna have it” started to feel real.

Thankfully, Beyonce has come to realize retirement is for quitters.

She told Ebony: “I’ve worked so hard on my craft, and I will never stop. I will never retire. I love it way too much.”

That’s right. Don’t you ever leave me, Beyonce. I don’t know what it’s like to live in a world without Beyonce p-poppin’ all over it, but that is not a world I want to ever come to learn anyway. Not now. Not ever. Especially now that’s she’s back to wearing hair that’s not straight and blond.

The Jig, The Blog, The Tweet (or Twit)

First things first: I have my first lead on The Root today. On a site known for featuring some of the best and brightest in the world of Black intelligentsia, it’s nice to see that even an article on The Stanky Legg can find its way onto the site. Bitch, they’re wired.

Just this morning I started off with prayer and the stanky legg. I may start off my day that way from now on. Can’t go wrong with The Lord and the jig.

Moving on I’m so mad at myself for passing out last night before I could finish updating my blog. If you’ve noticed, I’ve been trying to update more. That’s in part to me realizing I was falling off a bit, and the fact that people have reminded me on several occasions that I ought to post more.

Plus, I’d like to avoid emails such as these:

Hey How r u?

cool i hope, im a big fan of ur blog its refreshing to see a different spin on things and not the same nonsense on pretty much every other black blogs.

i do have one thing to say though, u must be one of the laziest blog masters lol

why do u not update more often, i appreciatte you have a life but i think u can enlighten us more often,ok thanks

Lulu

ps:im sure the way i constructed my letter will drive u crazy.

By now Lulu must think I’m also a lazy ass emailer because I never got around to replying to her. I’m actually pretty good with returning emails, but I didn’t know what to say given people seem to forget one thing: This is free.

Now, I’d love to be making money off my blog like the others, but I’m not there yet. I probably would get there if I updated more, though, so point taken, Lulu. Thanks for the email. At least you care.

Just so everyone knows I appreciate all of you that have been reading this blog for a while now. And those of you just now finding me. Help me find more people!

Oh yeah, FYI, in the next few months hopefully I’ll switch over to WordPress and get a dotcom. I’m also mulling the idea of video blogging, but I don’t know how I want to go about it yet.

But for the real reason I wrote this post: I’ve joined Twitter.

Yeah, I was initially confused as hell about it, but I’ve gotten the hang of it. Will I be twittering from the dentist office? Probably not, but hey, I’m on there now. People have been asking me all week why am I not on there.

Well I am. Follow me, add me, all that here.

Don’t Worry, Son, It’ll Grow Back

That’s what my mom told me as she laughed at my now infamous idiotic decision to let a non-English speaking Korean line my hair up. As every reader now knows, I’ve made some bad decisions recently. The other day one of my friends told me that I should have said to the guy, “Barack Obama” and that maybe I would’ve gotten a better line up. I don’t know if that’s true, but I certainly wasn’t trying to walk out of that place looking like Sherman Hemsley.

That picture above is from my most recent hair cut. Yes, I went and got another haircut, but no, not from the same person. Hell nawl. Even I am not that much of a glutton for punishment. I got referred to a new place, and don’t worry, the place was Black. In fact, when I walked in the barber who cut my hair was eating a fish plate in a big sytrafoam box. The minute I saw that I knew I would be alright. The fish place was across the street and get this, they take food stamps. Catfish is on the government, everyone!

Anyhow, when I sat down before he started cutting I immediately said, “OK, so I let someone mess me up a week ago, right.” Before I could even finish he said, “Oh no…I can tell. It’s way too high up.” Damn, that means it was as bad as I thought it was. I knew people were lying to me. However, I was told that it will grow back, which I was confident about. Unfortunately, I’ve been screwed up many times before. Damn cow lick.

I cut my hair really short and made sure that the line was brought back down so as my hair grows, everything will fall back into place. Naturally, now more people are going to walk up to me speaking Spanish, but the minute my accent comes out, they’re quick to whisper, “Ooooh. Soy Negro.” Or however you say damn, that’s a just a colored with a Caesar.

This will be the last update about this. I am not turning The Cynical Ones into a damn online hair journal. I’m only updating ya’ll before people start emailing my information about Just For Men and Lace Fronts. I appreciate the thought, but while I may be named after Michael Jackson, I’m not trying to use his glue.

Rest assured I will never ever let someone that doesn’t know Black hair or the English language cut my hair again. I can’t risk such a thing. Now, my feet, well, that’s another story.

’09 on CP Time

Last year was full of disappointments on the entertainment front. The Wire ended and still wasn’t recognized properly despite being one of the best written shows in television history.

Speaking of history, Janet threw out a disturbingly wack album that made her just that, followed by Mariah reeling us in with the catchy “Touch My Body” only to give us some subpar album then go off and marry the Black Screech Powers. And Usher, well, let’s just say, he better be glad Chris Brown needs anger management after releasing Here I Stand.

And though I hate to admit it, I hated hearing I Am…Sasha Fierce. There’s a reason why people with multi-personality disorder are given prescriptions, Bey. By the way, I don’t care what anyone says: Solange’s album was better in theory than in practice. I will say this: Thank you Solange for that temper tantrum you threw on the air. If not for that, I wouldn’t have thought to take your album back and use that money to go to Chick-Fil-A.

I deciiiiiided, that that was the meal for me.

Even the rookies let me down. I had been waiting for Jazmine Sullivan’s debut since I heard her rendition of “Resentment.” Then I actually heard it. Better luck next time.

I did enjoy Erykah Badu’s album. Eh. I got nothing else. Anyhow, while ’08 left me underwhelmed, I’m still optimistic about what this year will bring.

I suppose it would have been a good idea to put up an entry like this at the start of the year, but like my friend told their bill collectors, better late than never at all (followed by “quit calling me, bitch). Who cares if March is ‘right around the corner? It’s still early in ’09.

Now on to what I’m looking forward to:

The Tour

She and the friend in her head may be a little too scatter brain in the studio, but Beyawnsay never disappoints on stage. The last time she went on tour I decided not to go. At the time, I had just graduated from college, was traveling in search of a job so I felt it would be best to be responsible and save my money. What a stupid idea that was. I’ll never do some stupid stuff like that again.

I’m not going to see her, but I’m curious to see how this turns out. She looks and dresses the part again, but if you caught her performances back in December, you know Britney’s still not totally into the idea of being a pop star again. Hopefully she finds the skeet taste of rhythm and oomph that made her worth noticing to begin with. If not, that means this train wreck has been going on far longer than it needed to. She blows this and it’s officially time to derail her crazy ass.

The Comeback

Technically he never left, but Jay-Z wants to matter in rap, and yes, I’m a fan, but really, it’s Wayne’s World. I liked American Gangster the first time I heard it, but then about a month later I forgot all about it. It’s akin to seeing a sequel, enjoying it for what it was, then going back to original that’s far superior. Jay-Z talking about drugs is as up to date as Aretha Franklin announcing to the world she likes to eat.

Detox: Let’s just pretend it may actually come out. I’m more interested in the possibility of this album than I am hearing more Curtis or Marshall.

The Effort

The more music I hear from Ciara’s Fantasy Ride, the more it comes across like a jam packed bus in LA during rush hour. Note the bus smells like ass and failure. Even though she’s suffered push back after push back she keeps on trying. She wants us all to like her so bad. Too bad none of us know who she really is anymore.

I have to give it to Eve: It’s been seven years since she dropped an album and not many people cared then, yet here she is still trying. Bless her heart.

I like LeToya Luckett and while I forgot about her debut outside of “Torn” and “She Don’t” I’m really hoping she does well the second time around. Yeah, that’s all I got. I try not to go hard on people from my hood.

Shad doesn’t know if he wants to be Lil’ Wayne, T.I., or LL Cool J — but he does want you to pretend he’s still a relevant rapper. Sampling TLC and singing love songs to your mentor can only go so far. When will he learn he’s best served trying to be the next Will Smith or Queen Latifah?

The New

He sings like Trey Songz and rhymes somewhat like a hybrid of Kanye West and Lil’ Wayne. Yet, Drake still sounds like a man all his own. If you’re not up on Drake, please download his mixtape. Then get the others. I love most of So Far Gone, but what I’m most impressed about is a dude from Toronto was able to perfectly capture the southside flow. If you don’t know what that means, you’re not from Houston. Turn on “November 18th” and learn. Drake is the man alone for releasing a screwed version of his mixtape.

I’m also curious about Kid Cudi, if only because one of my friends is trying to get me to like him.

Precious: I’ve finally started reading Sapphire’s book Push today and I’m pretty sure that I’ll likely be done with it by tomorrow. It essentially being written in dialect doesn’t make it a hard read; the actual torment the main character, Precious, endures at the hands of her parents is. I cannot wait to see this movie. If it’s anywhere near as good as this book has been thus far it deserves the Slumdog treatment next year.

The Random

I want to know whether or not Chris Brown will be doing the booty do in jail. I’m guessing not, but he better at least teach a charity dance class or something. Or submit himself to a week long session with Tyra Banks.

Learn if Shyne gets out on parole.

If it finally dawns on Christina Milian that huge success in music isn’t in the cards.

If anyone will help Janet buy a clue about what went wrong with her music career.

Whether Whitney Houston will really bother releasing a new album or keep stringing us along every other BET awards show.

Watch one of the Housewives of Atlanta try to use an EBT card at the mall.

Find out if D’Angelo and Maxwell are really coming back.

Doing every new dumb ass dance in the club.

See someone tell Pamela Anderson that the world scheduled a conference call and decided it wants you to wear clothes now.

Keith told me he’s dressed like a gay prostitute from the 80s in this pic. Any day now I’m waiting for someone to tell Kanye West though he may not be gay sometimes his clothes are.

Speaking of gay people, can’t wait to add to the list of homophobic homosexual Republicans. Watch out when you enter those stalls, ya’ll.

Alright, I’ve shared my hopes for ’09. Tell me yours!

Fatty

There’s a reason why a sizable portion of the American male population needs to start shopping at Lane Bryant for chest support, and why a number of asses make Hyundais look like toy cars. We are a greedy nation, and it’s about time that gluttony has been captured correctly online.

Meet one of my new favorite websites, This Is Why You’re Fat. Two bonus points for using you’re correctly.

There you will find heart-attack inducing creations like:

Chicken fried bacon with gravy.

Egg ‘n ham sammich.

Some half pound rib eye, hot link, bacon concoction. Let’s just call it Bypass Burger.

Fried cupcake.

Some crap with pudding, six sausage patties, burger patties, cheese, and God knows what else. They call it the Sandwich of Knowledge. I call it the Sandwich of Death. Go with my name. It’s a lot more clever.

There’s also a bacon wrapped meat loaf sandwich covered in mac ‘n cheese, a deep fried tootsie roll, and a bunch of other treats that will have you needing insulin faster than you can say, “Oh my God, give me an Advil…I think I’m having a heart attack” half-way through that Bypass Burger.

I would post more, but I think my heart rate has been through enough.

Before anyone – well you in particular – says it, I have to admit I used to be a terrible eater. If you’re familiar with Jack and the Box, you may know about the Extreme Sausage Sandwich: a double sausage patty with egg and cheese breakfast treat. I, however, never ate it with the egg. I showed restraint.

However, not enough, because I ate this every morning when I could, and would eat chicken strips with french fries for lunch, and then proceed to eat an Ultimate Cheeseburger with jumbo sized fries and a strawberry soda. For desert, I’d also order two tacos — dipped in grease.

That’s exactly why my ass was getting fat again, which is definitely why I no longer eat that crap.

Now if you’re looking at any of these pictures and thinking, “Mmm…sammich,” your ass is nasty. I know, I know: Judging you on your meal choices is wrong. Well, whatever, I’m not trying to sit next to your Hungry Hungry Hippo ass on the plane.

Eat a grilled turkey burger and some tortilla chips (multi-grain, preferably) and stop killing yourself.

Curiosity Killed The Hairline

I don’t always make the best decisions. In fact, there’s a ditzy quality to me. I sometimes decide to do things on a whim solely based on natural curiosity. Say, “Oh, I wonder what happens if I put this in reverse,” or “Hmm, she just said I can make that spot, can I?” Then there’s “Ooh, I’m allergic, but maybe this one time will be different.”

That frame of thinking usually results in a boom and a crash…face first into the toilet. I thought I had put such dense logic behind me, but as of last week, I’m reminded that indeed old habits die hard. Without going into too much details (‘cuz I’on know ya’ll like that, pimpin’) I’ve made a change, and when one goes on a leap of faith (See: I’m not always cynical) you have to rough it just a little bit.

My hair is very important to me. There was a period in my senior year in high school where I just let it look a big curly mess until I had to cut for Homecoming (I was on the royal court – quit laughing) but other than that I keeps me a fresh line up, ya dig?

In college I may have walked around on campus in sweats and a t-shirt as if I had just woken up (usually such scenario was the case) but my hair was right. Besides, I tend to think if you can look good dressed as plain as possible then you’re on it no matter what. And I’m on.

So how does my little vanity-approved rant factor into my story? Well, changes breed unfamiliarity, so while I always know to holla at Jason for a good cut, I don’t know shit about shit now. A friend referred to one barber, and he’s cool, but yo, does he not realize we’re in a recession? I like to tip, too (they tend not to fuck you up when you do) – or did until I met him. I still did, but yikes, ya’ll. A fresh line up won’t help me in the line for food stamps.

Recently I found myself somewhere between South Korea and El Salvador. Now as much as people like to pretend my name is Miguel Santiago Chan Lee, I’m colored and my hair knows this. But while walking back from the drug store, I though, “Hmm…I wonder what would happen if I let a Hispanic line me up.”

Problem #1: I was dumb enough to even ask a question. Not because he was Hispanic, but because I know plenty of Black barbers that have jacked up my line up something terrible.

My hairline is, was, and forever shall be weird. I have what you call a ‘cow lick’ (someone informed me of the term a few years ago) and then on the other side is…hell, I don’t know. I’ve had many a barber tell me, “Man, it took me longer to line you up than anything else.”

And I’ve plenty of barbers that have spurred thoughts of doing random acts of violence in retaliation for their work.

There was a period in college where I walked around looking like Huey Freeman. That’s due to some barber cutting against the grain of my hair. I grew my hair out hoping it would undo some of the damage.

Knowing this, I should have known damn well not to go to someone not used to cutting Black hair.

Turns out a Hispanic didn’t get to cut my hair. He looked at me and pointed to the dude next to him. He turned around and he was a Korean who seemed to know only two words in English.

Problem #2: I saw that he was a Korean who didn’t speak English yet I sat in the chair anyway.

What is wrong with me? At the time I thought that either way, I’ll learn a valuable lesson. I was acting like one of those kids whose parents have to child proof their home until they are 19.

As I sat in the chair, I became all the more petrified. He was like, “Cut, cut.” I said, “No” then proceeded to yell line up seven times.

What was the end result? First, let me give you some perspective.

Here’s how my hair looks when it’s cut correctly:

How did I look leaving his chair?

…or at least not too far from this.

Notice how my man just cut a straight line on this side of my head. It’s like he put a ruler on the side of my head and decided to cut along that. Negative.

And how can I forget that went far back as slavery with my line up. On the right side of my head, you would think he thought he was going up a hill on my head. How do you say, “I ought to beat your ass in Korean?”

I was told it wasn’t that bad, and technically, they’re right. But I tell you one thing: I’ll be calling the expensive dude until I find a new barber. Funny enough, that dude is Hispanic, though under the age of 50. I’m sure that made the difference. I am going to learn one day. I just know it.

Stop It

Oh joy, someone has combined two of my favorite people: God and Beyonce! This is some chuuch I can jig to. I don’t know if this is preacher strategy to let the Saturday night crowd know they’re still welcomed to afternoon services after they eat breakfast at 1:45 p.m. or what, but I think I love it.

Yes, if you read this entry earlier you notice that I’ve completely changed my tune. Let me keep it real: I was frontin’. I love this remix, but I worry if I’m on thin ice with the Lord. Last week I went to church for the first time in forever and I didn’t burst into flames. I didn’t want to get up and jig to this and have a piece of concrete fall on my head. That Old Testament wrath is vicious.

But after the homie S.Lake told me she liked it, I realized that it was OK to enjoy this. And another friend reminded me how this is the same church one of his co-workers attend. He sent me a great remix they did to Jazmine Sullivan’ts “I Need You Bad.”

Next thing you know I’m going to start seeing videos with a pastor leading the the choir into, “Imma believa, Imma, Imma believa.” Then that will be officially too much, but until then, uh uh oh, oh oh oh.

Chimp Chat

I have to say, while I do think this cartoon is sophomoric, I’m not really in an uproar about it. Yes, I understand why people find it offensive, but it came from the New York Post. This type of commentary shouldn’t be all that surprising given the tone of the Post and other News Corp. owned entities.

Some question whether or not anyone of a certain age can really be that oblivious as to why some people would infer that the Post was employing an age old racial stereotype to insult Barack Obama. I can believe it, namely because there are many people young and old, white and Black, completely oblivious to a lot of things. Granted, in this scenario, this points more so to whites being oblivious and using their privilege to excuse their own ignorance, yet and still I can see why some wouldn’t get it. They don’t have to; it’s not their problem, it’s ours. It’s selfish and irritating as hell, but it’s all of our reality.

Let’s take this paper at its word as questionable as many find it to be. Barack Obama did not write the bill so the Post claims if the monkey represented anyone, it would be Nancy Pelosi. Even if that’s true, they are still dead wrong for advocating violence against a public figure. We live in a time where a number of sanity-deprived people can buy a boat load of guns at chain stores, which means those in control of the images we see need to be more responsible when trying to be “funny.”

If they were being racist, they’re ignorant as hell. If they weren’t, they’re still ignorant as hell. That’s my stance and I’m sticking to it.

I will say no matter what, I’m mad they created a situation in which the self-appointed Pope of Black Folk, Al Sharpton, got another opportunity to go on all of the major networks and show off his fresh perm. It’s nothing against Al personally – I’m just annoyed people seem to think Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson are the only two people allowed to represent the community.

What I am happy about is that this entire situation has sent a reality check to all of those under the impression that racism died on November 4, 2007. Whenever I hear someone hint if not flat out declare that we came as slaves, Martin Luther The Kang had a dream, and Barack Obama woke up America and now we’re all one big country full of Mariah Carey’s I frown incessantly.

Likewise, I’m equally as annoyed when I hear people claim that because Barack Obama has become President, Black people have no reason to “complain” anymore.

Here’s a reality check: Yes, his mother raised him without the aid of his father, but he also went to the best private school in Hawaii, which instilled in him the type of education needed to attain real social mobility. Yes Barack did, but let’s stop pretending every little poor Black child goes to top private schools in their respective states.

Moreover let’s stop acting like up until a couple of years ago he was paying more in student loans than he was on his mortgage. As brilliant and talented as he is, and as admirable as I find him to be, he essentially personifies why great timing and dumb luck can get a man far.

George W. Bush being a stubborn moron did more for race relations in this country than anything else done in recent memory.

Maybe that’s steering a bit off topic, but it’s been bugging for the longest now.

Regardless of whether I’m on point or not, here we are, only a month into office debating whether or not a conservative newspaper branded the first Black President a chimp.

On this entire drama, Rosie Perez captures my sentiments beautifully:

Racism still exists and it’s still ugly. Barack Obama did not change it over night. I heard someone on “Oprah” say, “When Barack Obama got elected to be President you could never complain for being a Black person.” I was like, “Shut the f*ck up! Sit the f*ck down!” I was so angry when I was watching that. If they still act in a racist way you’re saying we don’t have a right to complain because Barack Obama is President? When there are racist obstacles in front of us? I see it in my arts education charity, which is in 50 schools, you see it. You see how teachers treat kids of color different. You see how teachers treat kids of color who are of lower class differently. It’s still here, despite the fact that he’s become President. But, saying that it has changed, it definitely has changed… somewhat. But it hasn’t changed completely. I still think we have a long way to go.

And there it is. Let me just add, even if they did compare him to a chimp, I could care less. He’s still the President, so if Al and folks want to protest somewhere in New York, head down to Wall Street and cause a ruckus. Invite people Black, white, and purple who are all pissed off at real injustice.

Don’t It Always Seem To Go

Forgive me if this is old news, but as I write about entertainment stories for lunch money, I decided to multi-task (or procrastinate, I suppose) and try and catch up with Making the Band on DVR. Trust me, it wasn’t me who set the timer for this. I forgot this show even still came on. Though I enjoyed watching when Danity Kane was on it, last time I checked, that group was a wrap and thus my interest in the show followed suit.

But as I conclude the season premiere I’m noticing one thing: Danity Kane is all these jackasses talk about. And by jackasses, I mean people who really have nothing to do with the situation. I’m looking at you in particular, Que. Que is someone I want to embrace due to our shared weight class and teeth size, but if Chris Brown has taught me anything it’s that all big rabbit teeth people are not created equal.

Why is Que so damn obsessed with Aubrey? Does she owe him money? Did she give him the burn? Haha, wait, Que doesn’t really want any of that. I don’t care how many times he kisses up on Dawn.

Seriously, though, why is he so pressed? If you could summarize him in one word based on the premiere it would be “Aubrey.” Aubrey did this, Aubrey did that. Aubrey ruined Danity Kane, Aubrey has such an ego. Blah, blah, blah. Dude, get off. I seriously doubt Aubrey is thinking about him.

I caught the comment he made about Aubrey posing nude — insinuating that antics like that tarnished Danity Kane’s image. Yeah, because the roster over at Bad Boy has always been a bastion of morality. It’s funny he takes swipes at her for doing that, yet she made $500,000 for that ego booster. That’s money I’m almost certain none of the members of Day 26 will ever see. It’s likely more than Danity Kane would have ever seen had they stayed together. A platinum album split five ways on a Bad Boy contract sounds like it’s just enough to put you back in line for food stamps.

I laughed when I heard one of them (yeah, I don’t remember their names right now…oh well) say the members of Danity Kane should be millionaires. These guys do realize they’re on Bad Boy, right? If not, I need them to latch off Diddy Puff’s sac for a minute and go holler at Cherri Dennis, Black Rob, G-Dep, the lost girls of Total, and Jerome. Or stop by the 116th station and ask Dylan how those Bad Boy residuals are treating him.

As for the previews of the season, it looks like it will be another season of bitch fits, Puffy applauding himself and using the show to cross promote his products, a couple of boomkats, and Dawn pretending she doesn’t really want to be a solo artist. All while we forget Donnie Klang is still a cast member. Ya’ll let me know how that goes. In the meantime I’ll be waiting for Aubrey’s next reality show. Hopefully she brings along D. Woods. You truly don’t know what you got ’til it’s gone.

Help!

I know, I know: Where are the updates? I’ve been grindin’, jack. The following piece is an example of such. So, to make a long story short, I’m never comfortable talking about this with too many people, but I was presented with an opportunity and I decided that instead of clinging to myto pride, I might as well talk about it publicly — especially if it will get people with similar struggles to share.

I will be writing a new feature on The Root called The Recession Diaries. Essentially, it’s trying to capture the varied experience of Black professionals old and young and how we all deal with these tough economic times. College students, particularly those at HBCUs are already encouraged to write in (though students at any college are needed to contribute).

I wrote about my dilemma with student loans (particularly the private student loan industry) to start things off.

If you know of anyone struggling, or if you yourself are, please pass this post around and invite those to share their tales by emailing therecessiondiaries@gmail.com.

Also, if you could, please go out and read my piece and leave feedback. I would really appreciate if you did. I want this to be a success. I’m really trying to avoid stanky legging in the street for spare change, so help me succeed.

Click me to read.

Thank you!