S.O.S. for CSS

Do you know what I want for my birthday other than money, more money, some hmm…topped with money?

My dotcom put together. So it’s been a month now and while the basics are there I have ran into a bit of trouble.

Now, I don’t know anything about coding, but someone mentioned the source of my problem being related to an issue with anchor codes. Another said something about spacing codes. All of this is a bunch of jargon I don’t know.

What I do know is the site is looking a little janky if it’s not opened in a full browser and I need to get that fixed asap.

So who knows CSS or knows someone who knows CSS? I’ve contacted people that friends have recommended to me with no response.

I get people are busy, but I need to get busy with moving on. As of now, it’s still going to essentially be the same layout only with a few different tools related to the blogging software, but as I make plans to do more things with the site I need to get this out of the way.

That being said, if you know someone gon’ tell me who. If you don’t know what CSS is either just drop me a prayer that I get it together.

Or you can toss some suggestions in the comments section about things you’d like me to try tackling on this here blog.

The more I think about it, the more I realize I don’t really need to be stripping. That is, not long term anyway. Thus, I have to continue building with what I have.

Help the cause, ya’ll!

She Told Us

More and more I read comments from music artists ranting about haters or people being too negative to their liking. To be fair, many are correct in there being miserable folks out there who are nothing but hostile, embittered, jealous jackasses with nothing better to do than take shots at people out of spite.

However, many more artists incorrectly link any form of criticism to some level of hatred and jealously. I can’t help but think this has more to do with them not liking anyone who doesn’t constantly remind them that their shit doesn’t stink than anything else.

Ciara strikes me as one of those people, hence the visceral previous post about her.

I see she’s aware that people have been talking about her and has decided to respond with:

Q:People are talking about the similarities between Beyonce’s choreography and your choreography. I know what you were going for…

A:Right, I got inspired by the Vegas show, but go ahead. What do you want to know?

Q:How do you even address that? Have you seen the screen grabs?

A: I don’t think there’s really anything to address. I think it’s very, very funny. And you know what my response is to that? For the ones that have something negative to say? They must have really enjoyed it that much to go and nitpick it, because it’s something they pulled up and was like, “Yo!” There were a couple of things in there that I’ve never seen. I think that it’s important for us as artists to be original and to create something new, so it would be really silly of me to go and create something you’ve already seen. So not one time were any of my references another artist. My references were clearly inspired from shows that I’ve actually seen. It goes to show how creative we can be and how close the worlds are. I did my first video with my metal outfit. I was inspired by Thierry Mugler. Now, from my understanding, Beyonce is using Thierry Mugler for her tour. It just is what it is. It’s very petty to me. When people nitpick something and they say negative things, my response to that is they really must have liked it that much. They just said, “This just can’t be! We gotta find something!” That’s also the definition of a person having too much time on their hands to do nothing. That’s how I look at that.

This was prefaced by an intro where the writer sarcastically mocks the legitimate opinions about the “Love Sex Magic” video with the trivial cop out, “It’s just Bey stans ranting.”

Can we please stop acting like this is just an instance of overzealous Beyonce stans launching another form of Beehad?

I don’t recall anyone ever saying “…and on the eighth day God created Beyonce and her lacefront.”

But:

Not only am I not blind, but my lips aren’t permanently attached to Ciara’s ass so I don’t have to pretend to ignore the obvious for a check. There have been plenty of images used to highlight Beyonce’s copycat antics so why not call a spade a spade about Ciara and move on.

Stop enabling these artists.

First Ciara says: “I think that it’s important for us as artists to be original and to create something new, so it would be really silly of me to go and create something you’ve already seen.”

Then she comes with, “My references were clearly inspired from shows that I’ve actually seen.”

Which is it?

It doesn’t even matter because Ciara’s biggest hit to date has a beat that was used twice already. “Goodies” is a generic version of “Freek-A-Leek” which borrows heavily from the beat for “Yeah!”

I like the song, but c’mon.

And isn’t the beginning of “Never Ever” exactly like “That’s The Way Love Goes?”

Hey, if it’s not original, who cares so long as it’s good. But if you know you’re not exactly groundbreaking, why parade yourself as such?

The only thing worse than a pretentious artist is a pretentious artist who hasn’t done nearly as much as they seem to believe they have.

I happen to think she’s a good dancer, but I’ve noticed her routine has been limited to three dance moves lately: Muscle butt shake one, muscle butt shake two, and matrix.

A move that ain’t all that brand new either, by the way.

Thank you, Siyclone, for the image.

I don’t really care if she copies, but if your music isn’t on point and you’re acting like you’re really bringing it, don’t be surprised if people who know better say something about it.

When I write that I think she could be doing more than squatting in sex positions on camera, maybe that’s my way of saying she’s talented enough to where she doesn’t have to try so hard.

Or that if you look looked at her chart history, she may noticed that she didn’t have to lick anyone’s ear to create buzz for her project. I’m all for people embracing their sexuality, but far too many people rely on that to advance.

But no, I’m negative, I’m one of the worst people alive because I align myself with the people who don’t want to toss Ciara any singles.

Her album has been pushed back several times and the only reason she’s managed to get a hit now after so many tries is that she relied on someone’s else celebrity for extra spins on a track that sounds like a leftover from FutureSex/Love Sounds (of Prince).

This is exactly why so many people don’t even bother monetarily supporting artists anymore. They all work with the same stylists, producers, and songwriters all trying to do the exact same thing that’s usually played out already anyway.

And they call get the same result: A cheap hit here, a little stardom there, and then they fizzle away before you know it.

When talented people rely too heavily on gimmicks that work against what spurred their popularity from the jump, they typically end up falling off.

Oh, there I go hating again. I must have too much time on my hands.

Speaking of that, Ciara spent all day shooting a video dedicated to the Beyonce anthology and Magic City. I took twenty minutes to call her out for swagger jacking hoe shit.

Who really needs to work on how to better spend their time?

I’on See It & I Definitely Don’t Hear It

For most of my life I’ve been compared to people I don’t think I look anything like.

As I’ve previously mentioned, when I was a kid with teeth taller than me I got called Bucky O’Hare. Once the baby fat turned just fat, baby, I remember a girl called me Theodore from The Chipmunks in middle school. Fat and mean at the time, I called her something that I’d rather not repeat on here.

Once I thinned out a bit, Tiger Woods’ popularity soared — as did my comparisons to him.

After a while I went from cablanasian to ca-crackhead. More and more people said I looked like a fake ass Debarge. Chico to be exact. In fact, there was a girl who called me Chico throughout college.

I called her skinny ass Trina out of spite.

Then once I graduated, Maxwell decided to wake up from hibernation and find himself a barber. For some reason Maxwell without the hair looked like me everyday of the week to some folks.

As of late, though, all I seem to get is Chris Brown and warnings not to hit on Rihanna. I just got my fourth comparison to Chris Brown on Saturday during a house party.

I was standing next to a light skinned girl with a cut like one of Rihanna’s. The kind that doesn’t remind people of Prince or Michael Jackson circa Bad era.

Most of the time, I brush off those comparisons, but after twice being compared to a certain someone from Making The Band, I’m ready to research elective surgery.

Wait, not really, but I said that to be dramatic. Did it work?

No? Well, wouldn’t you react funny to being compared to Quanell Mosley?

I don’t think we look that much alike. He’s skinny with big teeth. I know that description applies to me, too, but I don’t know, ya’ll. I don’t see it.

On top of that, someone told me I sound like him. My response, “Is that your way of saying I sound like a bitch?”

He told me that’s not the way he meant it, but when I think Que from Making The Band, I don’t think, “Yeah, that’s the dude you want people to compare you to.”

I don’t really too much care for my voice. It’s one reason why I deflected from suggestions that I get into radio and channel my inner Wendy Williams and Star. That and syndication killed the lives of most jocks.

Anyhow, I asked a few people if they found this comparison to be true. My brother said no, arguing that Que’s voice is higher than mine. My friend said hell no then proceeded to look at me stupid for even asking.

My sister said, “Oh no!” at the comparison alone, but then came right back with, “Well, ya’ll do have a similar tone so I hear it.” She then quickly added, “But you don’t bitch out like that.”

A sister knows her brother.

My brother-in-law doesn’t agree with her. I already liked him, but I think I like him even more now for that reason alone. She still says we do indeed sound alike. Meh.

Both disagreed that I look like him.

But that’s what I heard on Friday. Sitting at a restaurant, a friend of a friend started looking at me and said, “You know, you look a lot like Que from Making The Band.”

My friends both laughed as they could guess my quick reaction.

Word.

Take a look at my pics and judge for yourself.

Even though I don’t think I look or sound all that much like him, maybe I would be more inclined to brush off comparisons to dude if he didn’t seem so damn crazy on the show.

I’ve read his Twitter. He blames it on editing. Yeah, whatever. The thing about editing is that while story editors and producers do very much twist events around and piece things together that likely didn’t happen on screen as it did in real time, they’re still going by footage you gave them.

So if you’re in front of the cameras acting like your ass needs a hug and a prescription, what do you expect producers of a TV show to do? Talk about you in dance class?

I had to pause the TV so many times because he was getting on my damn nerves. I don’t normally get worked out over a show, but damn, did anyone else want to reach through the screen and knock the hell out of him?

He seems like a nice person at the core, but a tad bit touched. If he keeps getting out of pocket maybe Day 26 should replace him with Babs Bunny.

I prefer being called a fake ass Chico Debarge. He may be out of his mind and strung out, too, but at least the cameras aren’t on him.

Stop The Top

The homie, the lovely and talented Maiya over at Blind I, sent me an image over the weekend that I couldn’t go without posting about.

The lady who looks like a gentleman in the picture was in Mai’s hair salon getting a flat top. I understand that people have been trying to bring this hairstyle back for a while now. I even spotted a guy with a flat top at a club last fall.

He looked like a stretched out version of first grade.

Is this a hairstyle we really want to come back, folks? There were so many good things about 1990 that could all come back.

Will Smith could come back to TV. Julia Roberts could give us another good movie like Pretty Woman. Madonna could return to a face that didn’t need Adobe Photoshop so much. My sister used to bump Kool G. Rap. I’ll take that. Public Enemy’s Fear of a Black Planet, too.

Hell, I’ll even take back Hammertime.

For all of the good things that came out in the early 90s, there were plenty of bad fads. The fanny pack is a good example. Unfortunately, I spotted people rocking those things last year, too.

And now this. When will it end? The recession? We had one of those in the early 90s, too. And the early 80s, which is the fashion trend that’s still fighting to stick around. Are ya’ll not noticing a pattern here?

Dress like 1998 when America had some money.

Now I had a flat top in the 90s myself.

So I understand the appeal. I liked my lil’ flat top…back then. But you won’t find me with one now. Why? Because in hindsight no one should willingly walk around trying to look like an eraser.

I realize I’m entering that stage of my life where I can recognize previous trends that people barely alive think are brand new and thus want to try on themselves. Yet part about growing older besides the cheaper car insurance is that you get to forget some things.

I’d like to forget the flat top. But with my luck in three weeks I’ll see a bunch of dudes in skinny jeans with flat tops wearing fanny packs.

The Coon Man

As you’ve noticed by now, I’ve become more comfortable with solicitation on The Cynical Ones. So comfortable I’m doing it right now.

While I appreciate those of you who have hit me up to say you enjoy my other blog on The Root, “The Recession Diaries,” I need more people to start contributing letters. I’ve hit up friends and gotten great material, and when MSN picked up my piece about my plight with student loans, I got a lot of emails from people wanting to share their own experiences.

However, things have started to dry up so which leads me to this post.

If you know would to like to discuss your experiences with the current economic crisis, please email me your story at therecessiondiaries@gmail.com. If you know of anyone else who might be interested in submitting a letter, please forward them this post.

I’m trying my best to get as many different experiences as possible. Some of been downright depressing while others have been incredibly motivating. In short, I’d like both and all that fit in between.

I want to continue putting my best foot forward, and I can only do so by getting as much feedback as possible. I’ve been getting from people who tell me I never mention any of my other writing gigs with them. Eh, very guilty of that, but hey, I’m telling you now…at least about this one anyway.

So if you could be so kind, help the cause.

Oh and if you’re wondering what the hell that is in the picture, it’s a dead raccoon. I stumbled along the story via a post by Fresh @ C+D and after reading the article in full and watching the video, I had to post about this on The Recession Diaries.

How can you not write about someone who calls himself “The Coon Man” and argues folks aren’t ready for the tough times because they’re not out in their backyard hunting for supper.

If you want to check it out, click me.

Clap For Nya

Will this week end already? Yeah, two posts are coming (or at least should be), but until then let the baby serenade you. I swear I’m about ready to murk half the world, but then I step back into my room, check my twitter, and see a video of this cute lil’ kid and her off beat pops (at the end).

Enjoy until I’m back.

I Can’t

Dallas, I’m grateful for the buffoonery and jigs you have provided me over the last year and a half, but ya’ll have officially lost me — that is, until you come up with another dance in about six hours.

When someone told me via Twitter (shameless plug time: follow me) that there was a dance named after Keyshia Cole’s mama I anticipated something ignorant yet danceable. Unfortunately, this dance comes a little too close to how a crack head would operate.

Wait, no saying that is disrespectful to all of the crackheads I used to see get it on Georgia Avenue.

Ya’ll don’t understand: I really wanted to like it despite no longer being all that great a fan of Franky (I thought it was spelled “Frankie,” which sounds better to me, but whatever) herself. But this looks really ridiculous. For a second I wasn’t even sure if this dance was really a homage to Franky whatever her last name is.

This is me after viewing dude in the front and the rest of the members of Day 26 show off the Franky:

That is not how I normally react to ign’t southern dances. What’s going on, Dallas? Are kids out there reading all of a sudden and now find themselves too busy to dance?

Like Kiki77868, I thought:

i am liking dis song but who da hell is franky

is they talking bout keyshia cole mama, frankie lymons, somebody from they crew…i just need to know who da hell is franky

Because clearly drop it the flo’, pick it back up, vibrate ya hips make a n—- wanna… would not dance to this. Not even after her eleventh glass of Hennessy. To tell you the truth, I don’t like the song that much either.

Thankfully, Fresh shared a new video that’s officially my song for April:

Now isn’t that much better? This is exactly why Crunk + Disorderly is my very own Huffington Post.

I know some of you will never understand my love for bird calls and hoodrat anthems, but mark my words: They’re not dying.

Proof is below:

Even Halle Berry is doing the Halle Berry. See why I blog about this stuff now?

C’mon Dallas, I usually talk slick (I’m from Houston, you understand), but lately the Dallas boogie has been on it. Do better.

Sidenote: Ellen is one of my favorite people in the world. Who knew she keeps up with the hood dances?

R.I.P. Blender

You’re unlikely to find me often mention any place I’ve worked at on this blog as I am no fool. However, since the magazine is folding anyway, what the hell? Three and a half years ago I had two summer internships in New York. One was at Blender magazine.

I distinctively remember writing a cover letter that kicked off with references to Paula Abdul and MC Skat Kat. I wanted them to know that I was not only a fan of the magazine, but could easily follow the same snarky tone and wit that made them popular at the time.

Already scoring one internship for the summer, I had every intention to do just the one and work part-time to live in NY and not starve to death. Then sometime in March I got a call from a 212 number while in class and I immediately bolted out of the room to answer. I was called in for an interview with Blender and I was hella geeked. I really wanted to intern at a magazine and Blender was one of my top choices (if not the top choice at the time).

So, a few weeks later I was on the train headed to New York in my pank shirt and tie. Actually, I think it was a variation of pink. Like a hot pink, but not ugly — if that makes any sense. I don’t normally say this, but I looked nice, dammit. I wanted to look professional but not stiff, hence the bold color.

The train got stuck – on two occasions – for several minutes at a time. I believe we were stuck in between the NJ Transit stop and my final destination at Penn Station. I got so petrified while waiting. Fortunately, though I was almost an hour late, they understood as I called while on the train.

The interview went well and soon after I found out that I had been offered the internship.

When I got there, it wasn’t exactly what I thought it would be, but I certainly learned a lot. I think my fondest memory about my time with them was when I had the opportunity to assist at a photo shoot with Teairra Mari. This was the only time I did anything that would be considered the stereotypical intern duties.

I didn’t get coffee, but I was sent to fetch a dog collar for the killers on a leash Teairra was to hold as a part of her shoot. Oh, and I had to hand Teairra a Sprite — or something like that. Whatever, pet store and 7/11. There you go.

Before she got there, they needed someone to step in for the lightning. I was the only colored around, so guess who tested that out for Teairra? I wish I had the picture of me holding those dogs of death on me. It would’ve gone perfectly with this post. Yeah: My bad, yall.

I guess what I remembered most about it was how young Teairra was and how grown they were molding her. I had a to remind myself this girl was 17 when they had her vamped at as Vanity. And at the time, I noticed I had seen many of her handlers on TV or in some magazine — particularly Tracy Waples.

There they were these grown women with this young girl trying their hardest to make her some hood Lolita.

And then, a little bit before I left, I heard “No Daddy.” When her pimp stylist told me that was her second single in my head I was thinking, “Oh, it’s her last one, too.”

There was no way in hell that song was going to fly with the general public, but who was I, some lowly intern, to say anything to them.

My only other memories I have at Blender include my boss being annoyed that Michael Jackson was acquitted of child molestation charges, a senior editor calling me a Lamb (Mariah fans, you know), and that I briefly came across someone who would ultimately become the homie — Clover.

I don’t even have the specific issue on me, but I also wrote a tiny little blurb in Blender. Tiny yet meaningful.

I honestly haven’t picked up the magazine in years, but I’m a little sorry to hear that even more people are losing their jobs and that the publishing world is losing yet another major player. Who knows who’s next.

Strip The Debt Away?

What is the deal with YouTube? I can never find the right clip to capture the tone of my posts anymore.

My idea was to plug in a good scene from The Player’s Club then segue into the point of the entry, but since someone’s blocking over on the site, you’ll just have to play a good scene in your head and roll with it.

In these troubling times many people have thought, “Why not sell ass?” I hear it from my friends, spot in people’s Twitter statues (wait, is that the right term — whatever), and judging from MySpace, people seem to have been up on game.

I’ve been reading a lot of articles over the past couple of days and it seems strip clubs all across the country (even the corny states) are seeing a sea of potential p-poppers express interest in flashing ass for cash (thank you, 410).

To that end, I find myself thinking, “Times are hard and you need cash. Would it really be so bad if you showed some….”

Do me the huge favor of reading and commenting (that is, on the site of the page that is) on my most recent entry for my blog, “The Recession Diaries.”

Read it, love it (or not — that’s OK, too…kinda), tweet it, Facebook it, do all that and help the cause (keeping me from strolling the corner in Air Max’s).

The link to the entry in question can be accessed here. Thanks and such.

P.S. Thanks to everyone who left those nice comments in the previous post. I really appreciate it. Particularly at this very second as I sit in my computer trying to figure out if I can send a root through email.

So I’ve Noticed

I’m not going to lie: I love the fact that my blog is getting more clicks even if it is from an entry on Ciara channeling her hole-in-the-wall stripper for attention.

I don’t even mind the hate mail. I usually respond to those messages with, “I hope you feel better now that you’ve released that.” and go about my day.

The only thing that sort of gets me is that people essentially sum up what I had to say with, “It’s a Beyonce stan ranting.” Eh, maybe next time I’ll bold the important parts.

I’ve noticed the recurring sentiment that Beyonce fans are idiots being expressed. These are primarily from people who act as if subject-verb agreements ought to be treated like the relationship between Rick Ross and 50 Cent. Not to mention many can’t read. Go figure.

Then there’s the whole “Beyonce steals, too.” Yeah, no shit. I’ve mentioned that quite a few times on here. Beyonce has contributed to the concept of originality about as much as a copy machine has. I’ve noticed. In fact, I wrote that in the post about Ciara, didn’t I?

Ciara’s copy cat bit was so blatant I couldn’t help but note it. That’s not my biggest gripe, though. I’m more so intrigued by how low she’s willing to stoop to succeed. I don’t care when people sell sex so long as they own it. I don’t believe Ciara and it seems desperate, and thus, irritating.

Before it got snatched down, I heard the clip of her song, “Feelin’ On My A!”

“Boy you better stop, while you feelin’ on my A!, feelin’ on my A!, feelin’ on my A!”

Really? If she decided to bend over backwards and show us her brazillian while she was still hot, I’d be more inclined to believe that the idea to be more overtly sexual was organic versus a contrived attempt to regain her spot. Yet she’s not so I don’t.

I bought her first album. One of the first reviews I ever wrote (on the collegiate level) was on Goodies. I enjoyed it. The second not so much. Now, I can’t tell who she is or what she’s trying to be.

It’s easier for people to focus on the notion of another stan war as it gives people the option to evade a legitimate argument: Every R&B singer is on a damn pole and soon they’ll all be on all fours.

Some people are a little upset that Justin Timberlake gets a constant pass in objectifying Black women. I saw the clip of Ciara calling Justin Timberlake her boytoy in the video, but I didn’t get that from the video. One of my female friends described it best: She looks like a video hoe in her own video. To that end, when it comes to the issue of Justin objectifying Black women, be more upset at the women who allowed themselves to be objectified.

Oh, and if you’re a newbie, welcome to The Cynical Ones. Spread the link as wide as Ciara spread her legs in the video. And do follow me on Twitter.

Smile!