July 2007 Archives
The lost "HumanityCritic chapter" in Karrine Steffans' "THE VIXEN DIARIES"
A couple of years ago when Karrine Steffans came out with "Confessions of a Video Vixen" I didn't think too much of it. I mean, women with questionable morals have been writing tell-all books about the famous men that have been inside them since the beginning of time. I'm sure that some of the Egyptian Hieroglyphics detail some Pharaoh's sexual inadequacies, and how during those intimate moments he needed a hunting spear rammed up his ass to achieve a proper climax. As Ms. Steffans peddled her wares on a multitude of media outlets, including Oprah, it was hard to contain the childlike chuckling as she played the victim - acting as if her penchant for blowing celebrities was a published cautionary tale for young women everywhere, an educational tool if you will, like the protractor or triple penetration pornography. But despite my skepticism about her being a reformed opportunist chicken-head, leading a feminist revolution where the motto happened to be "One burnt bra at a time!" - a small part of me(not that part asshole) wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt.
Who am I to say that a person can't change? Granted, one of my hands is noticeably more muscular than the other based how many times I've masturbated to her pornographic video as if my testicles had an expiration date on them - maybe she was really trying to deter impressionable young women from having the nuts of lackluster celebrities on their collective chins at some point in the future. I found myself feeling like one of those Barry Bonds detractors, even though a cloud of suspicion follows the slugger around the same way that dirt cloud followed around that "Peanuts" character "Pigpen" - there is no smoking gun as far as Positive drug tests go. Anyone with an I.Q above room temperature who hasn't spawned from inbreeding knew that Ms. Steffans was nothing more than a harlot with a laptop, a sister who figured out that "resident cocksucker" wasn't the kind of thing that you put on a job application - so what better way to turn a buck than pen a tell-all while claiming that she was doing so to empower young women everywhere. But there really wasn't a smoking gun, a steroids-like positive test that proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that Ms. Steffans' journey to save womankind was a watery sack of crap - until now, with her second tell-all book. While her first book detailed her experiences in the Hip Hop world along with her liaison's with celebrities, "The Vixen Diaries" is supposed to be an account of everything that has happened since her first book hit the shelves - continuing to name-drop more celebs who have since attempted to puncture her small intestines mid-coitus.
I have to say, sifting through her website is an absolute joy of immense proportions - if only for the hypocritical factor alone. For one thing, you get gems like this:
"She encourages young women to speak out against abuse, to halt the cycle of it and no longer abuse themselves. Karrine uses her past as an example of what not to do and instated The Karrine Steffans Girls Club to give women of all ages a safe place to go in order to express their anxieties and support each other."
OK, that talking point might have worked with the last book, when she claimed to have stopped fucking sub-par lyricists cold-turkey - but this new book proves that she is up her her old tricks. (pun intended, her head game is strong.. I hear) But her video diary section is where the laughs just keep a'coming, self videotaped segments from her bedroom (mostly) where one day she is divulging information about herself - and the next she is saying that people need to mind their business when she hears something about herself that she doesn't like. You can't have it both ways. (or maybe she can - is there a tape of that available too?) Also in the videos it is suggested that Lil Wayne is new jackass treating her vagina like a pinata, not to mention speculation that Ne-Yo and her once bumped uglies - who knows, based on those facts, maybe Starr Jones and Elizabeth Taylor will invite Karrine to join their exclusive "women who like to fuck gay men" club?
I bet you are asking yourself, where all this venom is coming from? Why I've decided to aim my PC and shoot verbal artillery at such an easy target as Steffans? Well, let me just come clean here - the truth of the matter is that I'm a little pissed at Karrine for not mentioning me in her latest tell-all. I thought the time we spent together was special, special enough to include in her precious "Vixen Diaries"! But I guess that somebody at her publishing company informed her that juicy details about a mid-level blogger just doesn't sell books. So without further ado, here are a few excerpts from the "LOST CHAPTER" about yours truly:
From the Chapter entitled "Beware!! Chubby pre ejaculating blogger!!"
page 122
"Ladies, when a man tells you that he's hung like a pre-pubescent midget and ejaculates faster than the world record 100 meter dash time - believe what he says and keep it moving. At first I thought his shtick was cute, you know, just a healthy dose of self-deprecation that he uses as a device on his blog. But the first time we were together sexually it became abundantly clear that he wasn't bullshitting, one time he mercilessly fucked my belly button while screaming "Damn girl, you are deeper than that well that baby Jessica was stuck in!!" - not the mention the vomit sounds he made while ejaculating, while I was just talking my bra off no less!!
page 124
"I've been fucked inside of portapotties on video sets, I've serviced men on project roof-tops - but the level of disrespect that HumanityCritic showed me during sex made my first book look like a fairytale that Amish parents tell their kids at night. First he would throw out obscure Hip Hop references while fucking me, like the time he was going down on me and said "Jesus Christ, your pubic hair is nappier than the back of the head of the chick that Ghostface was rapping to in that Ice Cream video!!" Or that one time when he was down there handling his business and he momentarily looked up and said, "I got to tell you, your vagina is grainier than the Zapruder film and rougher than that piano sample that Gangstarr used in "All for the Cash!!"
page 125
"HumanityCritic was great when he was drunk, a guy who could make me laugh and then proceed to fuck the shit out of me for three mind-numbing minutes without a worry in the world - but when he was sober it was another thing. Based on my past he'd scrub his hands anytime I even briefly touched his, he'd vigorously scrub the toilet seats and shower after I used them - and he'd put on so many condoms before sex, his penis looked like one of those balloon animals you make for children at weddings. Not to mention any time I'd ask for a sip of his drink, or a bite of his food - even if we were in the most public of places he'd scream out "Oh hell no, you fucked Ja Rule!!!"
Page 127
"Even though Kool G Rap and I had a turbulent relationship that I'd rather not discuss, HumanityCitic was absolutely fascinated by the fact that I used to be with him. It was weird. He'd sporadically grab my crotch and say shit like "One of the members of "The Juice Crew" was there!!! The author of "Road to the Riches" and "On the Run" discovered that land before I did. How cool is that!" But then it got even weirder when, during sex mind you, when I caught him mumbling Kool G Rap's verse in "The Symphony" with a shit eating grin on his face!"
Lets Edit These Jar-Jar Binx's Out of Hip Hop
When it comes to the episodic science fantasy saga that is the Star Wars series, I'm probably what you'd call a mid-level fan. I've seen every movie and know all the major plot points, but I couldn't tell you what planet each character was from or what kind of fuel the Millennium Falcon ran on. True, I've caught peoples punches in mid-air during fights and screamed out "Jedi!," and women who've ever proclaimed their love for me were immediately met with an "I know!" response ala Han Solo in "The Empire Strikes Back." But if you asked me what kind of weapon Boba Fett uses, or how many people an AT-AT walker can hold - a blank stare will encompass my chubby visage as if you just asked me to recite a Lil Wayne lyric. A few chicks that I've dated have been Star War purists as well, a rather touchy bunch let me tell you - completely frowning on me making light saber sounds with each pelvic thrust, while receiving a very spirited "mouth hug" saying "The force is strong with this one," and referring to Lando Calrissian as "that 40oz drinking woman beater." Not to mention that one time I very cavalierly wiped my nether regions on a woman's "Princess Leia" throw pillows post coitus.
But there is one thing that a casual fan like myself and Star Wars purists have in common, a shared hatred for the Jar-Jar Binx character that was first introduced to us in "The Phantom Menace." Even though there was a large segment of the fanbase that loathed Jar-Jar because they felt it was George Lucas' attempt to appeal to children, many felt as I did - that Jar-Jar was nothing more than a sci-fi version of Stepin Fetchit. Not for nothing, but whenever I see a big lipped character speaking in broken English and constantly getting in trouble, I automatically think back to the historical shit-stain that was minstrelsy.(Or Bobby Brown, just playing) Despite the fact that George Lucas let it be known that Jar-Jar was going to be an integral part of "Attack of the Clones", some fans took it upon themselves to fix what they thought was an error on Lucas' part - with "The Phantom Edit", which cut Jar Jar Binks out almost completely, and "The Phantom Re-Edit", which turns the character into a more enjoyable version than the original.
That had me thinking, what if fans banded together and did sort of a mass edit on Hip Hop - erasing people out of the landscape who seem to have no reason being there. I know, based on all the minstrel-show rappers and sub-par wordsmiths with gold encrusted smiles nowadays, everyone from lil Wayne to lil Webbie - editing all of them would fill up my residence with disregarded film stock. That's why I'm starting with the people you've seen in every Hip Hop video for the past couple of years, their very image provoking you to ask: "What purpose do they serve exactly?"
Bishop Magic Juan: This is going to sound very hypocritical coming from a guy who's favorite pastime is shoving wrinkled dollar bills in a stripper's G-string, one who finds myself picking glitter shards out of my penis with a pair of tweezers from sex with said erotic dancer - but the fact that I see this scumbag in every other video sickens me, like seeing lil Kim's pap smear results. Ok, he's supposed to be an "ex pimp" who serves as a spiritual advisor to Snoop and a few others - but I'm saying, anyone who butchers the english language while wearing clown suits and holding gaudy looking cups, couldn't advise me on what the current status of the weather was. This gentleman is the human embodiment of the feeling black folks get when a mass murderer turns out to be a brother, how we feel if we happened to watch the show "Cops" around a bunch of white folks, or that feeling we get when a reporter interviews the most ignorant black person who ever existed as their "eye-witness" - single-handedly turning back the civil rights movement with each mangled sentence. Its about time we made an edit, what do you say?
Travis Barker: Maybe there was a time when having tattooed white boys in Hip Hop video's was the cool thing to do, the artist passive aggressively showing the audience how far his music has crossed racial boundaries by the mere presence of a heavily inked rocker on set - I get it, I really do. But those days are far behind us my friend, black folks' tastes are too sophisticated for such a gesture to even resonate any more - that may work on fans of "Party Like A Rockstar", a song where weak rapping and lame references to "Marilyn Manson" and "The Osbourne's" reign supreme. But for brothers and sisters who grew up on "Bad Brains" and "Fishbone", you have to do better than that. Mr. Barker has been in over 17 Hip Hop videos over the past few years, I couldn't tell you why - it would make sense if the guy wasn't known for being in such a monumentally lame fucking band. His uselessness in a slew of video's only rivals that of Karrine Steffans - but at least she had a pair of perky tits and what I heard was a quite forgiving mouth. Sure, I'm fully aware that he has done a handful of remixes for rappers and singers - but that hardly makes the man Pete Rock, now does it? Sorry dude, I'm going to have to edit you out as well.
Fonzworth Bentley: Maybe I'm alone here, but I don't care if your job was holding umbrella's for Malcolm X and Marcus Garvey - there's something quite "house negro-esque" about a black man holding a fucking umbrella for anyone. I don't know what exactly Mr. Bentley has on Puffy, photos of Diddy being on the business end of homosexual three-way, a grainy camera phone image of Puff engaged in a drunken lip-lock with the guy who played "Doogie Houser" - something has to explain him giving a guy with no discernible talent a chance to enter our collective consciousness. He's another person you see in more Hip Hop videos than regurgitated movie themes, why should I care so much about an asshat who markets umbrellas? I'm fully aware that Mr. Bentley is embarking on a musical career, but what I've heard thus far is complete horseshit - I've heard more ear-pleasing bowel movements in my day. Edit.
Rohan Marley - The New Millennium Yoko Ono
It didn't occur to me until last week when I found myself doing what a million other owners of "The Score" do on a daily basis - fast-forwarding Wyclef's and Pras' verses in order to get to Lauryn Hill's rhymes - that Ms. Hill is the female embodiment of every girl I've ever loved throughout my entire life. First, I'm in awe of their sheer beauty, much like I was with Lauryn in the beginning - at that point not giving a slippery fuck what besides her looks she has to offer, just feeling myself being steadily pulled in her direction as if very visage was akin to an ocean's undertow. Slowly, her other qualities start battling with her beauty. When Lauryn Hill started coming into her own lyrically I admittedly felt like a school-boy with a crush as my heart went all aflutter just thinking about her - like any time I've dated a fine girl with brains behind the beauty, it was evident that she would be promoted past the "Practice Vagina" rank. Then, wouldn't you know it, as soon as she has the deed to my heart, most of my day spent fantasizing about our wedding day and the both of growing old and experimenting with Viagra together - that's when she rips said heart out of my chest. Kicking me out of the apartment that the both of us share, and informing me that she's leaving me for guy who is literally homeless!! (Sorry about that, I'm still bitter) But you get the point, as soon as I envisioned a future where her place as the "Greatest Female MC of all time" would one day transcend opinion - that's when Rohan happened, the new millennium Yoko Ono.
Similar to how historians like to tell us that Yoko Ono had nothing to do with "The Beatles" disbanding, how John Lennon had planned to leave the group anyways, and how every member of the group was going into a different direction musically - I'm not buying it, just like how I'm not buying Lauryn's excuse for her inactivity being creative limitations and the trappings of fame. It was definitely that motherfucker Rohan. That filthy bastard, reportedly already married at the time they got together - serving as a one man wrecking-ball to what could have been the legacy of the greatest female MC to ever clutch a microphone apparatus. (I'm not into conspiracy theories or anything, but someone has to look into whether MC Lyte hooked them up or not- in an effort to save her legacy.) Besides the fact that he turned what I'm sure is Lauryn's lovely genitalia into a virtual clown-car, we all were let in on how big a douchebag the guy was by her emotional performance on that "MTV Unplugged No. 2.0" - a tearful train-wreck that at the end of the day still had flashes of brilliance sprinkled throughout it.
Now that I think about it, maybe it's a slap in the face of Yoko Ono to even compare someone like Rohan Marley to her - no matter what you think of the legitimacy of her work, at least she was an artist who also put out albums. What exactly has Rohan's lazy ass done? I'm sorry, being the son of a legend isn't exactly a job description, buddy - and trying to eat off of your father's accomplishments by having a clothing line named "Tuff Gong" just proves to me that your silly ass is a monumental waste of space.
I know it seems kind of harsh bashing a guy who by all accounts isn't even in Lauryn's life any more, but it's my firm belief that that son of a bitch has got to pay. Pay for me not having a decent album of hers since "The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill", album collaborations with her and DJ Premier going unfulfilled, poignant verses about politics and global affairs never touching my eardrums, and the current state of the female MC - who would have thought that a shiftless layabout would be the culprit when it came to millions of fans being disappointed. All we are left with are weird interviews from the queen herself, a condemnation of the Catholic church at the Vatican (which was kind of gangsta, by the way), and promises of upcoming projects that are beginning to fall on deaf ears.
Of course, it's not too late for Ms. Hill. She could come out with some legendary material this year, for all I know - but if she never reaches that level of excellence we all thought she'd attain, just feel secure in knowing that it was Rohan Marley's fault. We have to be proactive, people. Visit his myspace page and tell that motherfucker what he's done, let him know that I sent you (I'm not hard to find) - even purchase one of his raggedy T-Shirts only to wipe your ass with it in protest at some later date. Years ago, I met Lauryn Hill while she and her band mates were promoting their first album. I wish I had the same fortune telling abilities as the guy in "The Dead Zone" - because when I touched her beautiful hand, I would have said, "In a few years you will meet an unemployed Marley boy. When he approaches you, just tell his ass "Kick rocks motherfucker!!!"
