All posts filed under: Pop Culture | Media

You can’t spell Hypocrite without Azealia Banks

I have a question. Why haven’t we canceled Azealia Banks yet?

We have canceled many other celebrities for less and even questioned their mental stability but Bank’s flip-flopping ass seems to be allowed time and time again to be the face of the word “toxic” and “hypocrisy,” yet we just let her slide on through until her next episode.

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Wakanda Forever: To the Big and Little Mad

I’m one of those people who has grown exceedingly tired of black bodies being type-casted in large and minor Hollywood films. I am done with seeing black people (meaning everyone in the African diaspora, not just African-American) in chains, as slaves, as the help, being traumatized, playing the fool for comedic relief, being the token symbol of diversity or being the villain. It was stressing me out. We are not and should not be limited to these films, and so, when Black Panther was announced and the cast was majorly black, I was excited. Not only because it’s one of my favorite comic book series, but because of the representation.

Red Hat PTSD

I know I’m not the only person who can’t look at red baseball caps the same. Every since Pres. 45 campaigned with that damn hat, I give an immediate side-eye to anyone I see with just the color. Online of course, because I never saw anyone with a red hat in real time before…or maybe I never cared before because it was just a damn hat at the time.

Series: Facebook, Fake Care, and Fake People – Pt 2

Another day of me not minding my business. So it’s a crisp Friday afternoon in September. The 15th to be exact. Hurricane No Way Jose just lashed at us with his tail because he ain’t shit and instead of disappearing he decides to sing despacito on the ocean. He is moving SLOWLY. So you know bad weather creates bad decisions. Like…say…hacking your boyfriend’s facebook page and letting us know that he has hella hoes.

Series: Facebook, Fake Care and Fake People – Pt 1

Now this fool over here a few months back in March. I’m on “Le Book,” after 4 days of being blocked due to “copyright infringement.” Apparently, you’re not supposed to share music videos anymore. But you know what MARK maybe, MAYBE if you had removed the video from the person who actually posted it, I wouldn’t have been able to share it. How Bow Dah. Your security team is a flipping farce. Get it together. Back to what I was saying. So I’m scrolling through Facebook and I pass by a post with at least 14 images of screenshots of what appears to be someone’s infidelity. Yall know me already.

Things not to do on Facebook when I die

Yet another day of not minding my business on Facebook and of course we are back to 0 days without VI nonsense. I have to remember to do a series about that for another time. Entiwho, I have very few close friends so I know I don’t have to tell them this (and I’m not popular enough to have to deal with this fart), but this is just a PSA for folks who reach into the common sense jar and come up empty when it comes to handling death online.

Don’t pick sides in toxic relationships

At some point we all realized that the Kardashians, Roberta included, are all about attention and this is more than likely a set up, but hell it’s Wednesday, some of us are on vacation, and we ain’t got shit to do so we were tuned into the bullshit. But let me remind yall, that the ONLY victim in this mess is Dream, who is a product of this entertainment nightmare. Anyways, Rob woke up today on the wrong side of his bed and decided to tell us things we already knew. Blac Chyna was cheating on him and using him. But Rob supposedly didn’t know he was being used so he, being the typical neanderthal, decided to leak her nudes. Now, I’m not here for leaking people’s nudes, but Chyna is literally basking in nude glory on the internet. He basically just released unpaid photos. It’s wrong because obviously you don’t do that. Releasing nudes is prime “fuckboy” bullshit. It’s childish. It’s also illegal yall. But this is Black Chyna sir. How are you hurting …

Open letter to a “pick me.”

Dear Pickmesha Jones, I don’t hope you’re having a blessed today. I hope your bonnet fell off when you were sleeping, and your hair rubbed against some cotton sheets, so your twist out looks like it went through electroshock therapy. If you’re not a fro-popping sister, I hope your wiry strands fall out at each brush stroke. May your edges require the help of baby Jesus, but he doesn’t have time for your shenanigans nor your ashy-peen-itis. You may be wondering why I’m here today. I wonder too as you probably lack the ability to comprehend what this letter is meant to convey. But I’m being childish, and I’ll stop. In short, I’m here to save you from yourself. Sis, your “pick me” ass ways have to stop. This is a cease and desist letter. May you only need one to get it together. “Pick me?” You’re probably wondering what that means. It means that you wake up every day with a thirst for attention from the same misogynist piece of shits who will pass …