Urban haps of a grrrl on a mission to be a better writer, a new music master-blaster and a wonderfully brilliant razor-packing, MAC LipGlass wearing feminista...

Tuesday, October 31, 2006

Flavor of Love

I don't know what it was that got me out of my writer's block/ creative funk, but I'm so glad that moment has passed. I would say that maybe the planets are all in alignment and Mars is in Scorpio or some other totally fly lunar ish was going down, but on Saturday Mercury went retrograde so that can’t be why I've got my jism back. Well maybe it was the wonderful brunch I had at Kitchenette on Sunday with my "god-mother" and those almond pear pancakes or finally finishing The Four Agreements and realizing how much better my relationships will be in life cause I know now not to take everything so dang personally and not to make assumptions about folk and situations. Yeah that book has definitely has had a wonderful effect on my outlook on life. But when it comes down to it, seeing Deelishis, New York, Buckwild and Bootz the night before last all gully and ghetto-- cursing, yelling threats and throwing sneakers at each other all over a middle-aged, former hype man with at least three baby mommas and a series of law infractions which has led him to Rikers at least once and let me not forget homey ain't hardly easy on the eyes either! Oh yeah… that in all honesty is probably what shook me from my woe-is-me snooze and got me feeling all inspired to be better, to be at least more than what VH-1 and Flavor of Love has me pegged for as a Black woman. From the few episodes I caught I always thought this reality show was a guilty pleasure gone AWOL. I'm thinking these chicks must be getting union scale wages to do this, I mean they can't really be showing their as$ literally and figuratively for Flavor Flav. But sho' nuff it was all that and a bag of hot crap.

Lola Ogunnaike's article in the Times earlier this month echoes those same sentiments:
Occasionally, the women even trade blows. This season's premiere began with two women brawling over a bed and ended with one contestant defecating on the floor as she raced to the bathroom after a meal that didn't agree with her. To Michael Hirschorn, the executive vice president for original programming at VH1, the reasons millions of viewers tune in every Sunday night are clear. "The accidental appeal of the show was the play between 'Are these women for real or not? Are these women there for him or are they there because any fame is completely intoxicating?'" he said. "Instead of covering that part of the show up, we decided to make it integral."

The article also quotes another blogger who makes a really valid point:
It's about time we as black people quit letting Flavor Flav and the rest of these clowns bojangle for dollars.

Yep, bojanglin' for dollars that seems to be our M.O. here lately. From Jay-Z's latest video with Dale Earnhardt, Jr. to Steve Harvey's cooning the Country News segment on his syndicated radio show, I've had enough. It all reminds me of the comedian I saw on Def Comedy Jam over the weekend who said God is really breaking his heart by taking legends like Luther Vandross, Johnny Cochran & Barry White and leaving us to deal with clowns like Bobby Brown, O.J. and 50 Cent. I totally agree. To lose Richard Pryor and end-up with Flav I feel like a sucka. Dealing with this type of reality will either leave you invigorated or beleaguered, I guess it depends on which side of the flying Adidas you're on.