Now that I've conjured Soulja Boy, I must admit that "Speakers Going Hammer" makes me rock out a little bit. I might love that song.
Not as much as I love athletes doing The Dougie, though. It's as if they don't realize how "girlie" the dance is and the homosociality it engenders. Or maybe they do. Either way, carry on, lads, carry on.
No, really, I did not see For Colored Girls and I don't plan to, so stop asking me. By the way, I'm glad fewer of you saw it this week. It's the only way to stop Tyler Perry. Trust me. In the meantime, we need to figure out how to get some viable Perry alternatives some shine.
As a black blogger, it is my obligation to inform you of the following: There's a The Color Purple reunion happening on The Oprah Winfrey Show today!!!! Yes, that's right. The entire cast. Apparently, the reunion is part of Oprah's interview with Whoopi Goldberg. Despite our differences, my Whoopi Goldberg love runs deep. It wasn't until I was much older that I realized how improbable it was to see someone who looked like Goldberg in movies and on television screens. She's an enormously interesting figure to me; someone I'd like to learn more about. I don't expect to be enlightened by watching an Oprah interview, but I'm excited, nonetheless. I've always appreciated the fact that Goldberg seems to say and do what she wants--and somehow remain famous. I'm sad she was in For Colored Girls, though.
Kanye West made George Bush sad. Last week, the former president said that Kanye West calling him a racist in the wake of the Hurricane Katrina disaster was the worst moment of his presidency. Yep. Worse than the actual disaster. Worse than W's actual handling of the disaster. Worse than the lies he told the American people. Worse than the wars he waged while president. The terrorists have won.
Mr. Dinkins, would you please be my may-or? Ever since
I don't normally blog about music, but you should be listening to Coultrain. That is, if you're not already. I'm seriously considering internet stalking this guy. Coultrain's "Mount Zion" is the closest I get to religion these days. Besides, Seymour Liberty is a most awesome sobriquet. Here's a mixtape so you can catch up.
Speaking of Jesus and Chicago, there are several Chick-Fil-A restaurants now open in the Chicagoland area. Not that I'm narcissistic or anything, but I feel like this is God's way of telling me that I haven't been forgotten. Octavia, my trusty little Honda Civic, will be making a trip to the suburbs this coming weekend. I need your orders by Thursday.
I should have started Tom Brady last night. I need Michael Vick to score at least 33 points, or else it's a #fantasyfail for me this week. This does not bode well for the decision-making skills I'd try to tout during my mayoral campaign.
Reading is fundamental. Word on the street is that The Hunger Games trilogy is official. A couple of friends have spoken enthusiastically about Suzanne Collins' trilogy. I've bought the books, but have yet to start them. N and my friend, Maegs seem pretty crunk about them, though. Organ donation notwithstanding, the best gift you can give someone is a book. Speaking of books, I've been contemplating using this space to periodically discuss books. I'm thinking maybe a kind of unofficial Black Youth Project Book Club. If the one person who reads my entries is interested, I'd be willing to do it. Maybe come up with a book list for us to discuss, etc. I'm open to ideas. Holler at me.