Video Inside: Love and Hip Hop Preview (It's raining fugnuggets and honey...)

Jim. Jones. Mama.

Now that I have your attention, ready yourself as you may - though nothing in this lifetime could prepare you for the glorious dewdrops of fugnuggets preparing to burst forth unto your screen.

Imbibe:

Get More: Love And Hip Hop

Is it me or does Jim Jones' mom sound like an old pipe organ? She speaks=me turning to page 147 of my hymnal and singing Standing On the Promises.


Study Notes:

10) Is there anyone, ANYONE, who believes that Miss Chi-Cheekela La Boom, or "Kimbella" as she's currently known on Spring Street, is an XX? Girl hush. Night night, keep your tucks tight!

This now? Primetime Deion Sanders is ... hanging on (Girl, it's a paycheck!)

No words. Just thoughts. And what I'm thinking is:

SO THIS IS WHAT WE'RE DOING NOW DEION SANDERS???

Yeah, this is what we're doing now.





Bless Neon Deion Sanders heart.

Today's Sadness Sammich...

Christopher "Kid" Reid Arrested, Video Link (and sadness sammich) Inside

FREE THE IRRIDESCENT ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!


Jaysus be a cozy tanning bed and a gang of Banana Boat extra bronze, sun-baked goodness tanning oil.

Apparently Powder / The Ghost of Rap Careers Past / Batman villain "Hyperwhite" /Christopher "Kid" Reid, of Kid-n-Play fame (involuntary bowel movement - pardon me) has gone the route so well beaten by the likes of Tupac, Ja Rule, DMX, Gucci Mane (and lips), T.I. etc. -- HE'S ALL UP IN THE JAILY JAIL!!!

American Hoodery Exported: Nigerian Music, "Crank that Naija Boy" Makes The Rounds

Disclaimer:

*No Zamundans were harmed in the filming of these videos!*


You know it has to be serious if I risked my life gnawing through twine and busting out of the the cage in which Chris Brown has held me for the past three weeks (custom constructed from Rihanna’s hair and bones, respectively) to bring you this post.

But this, dear readers, is serious. I am a soldier in the war against ratchetery and I will go down fighting before I allow the forces of banjiness to destroy this beautiful planet!

From weave to shining weave!!!

With that, I bring you this - some type of Africanized Soulja Boy hybrid that features congos, Muslim robes and a heavy dose of Jaysus tears.


Naija Boy up in this hoe ... watch me shake my ass like so.”


You know, YouTube has been a repeat offender and corporal in the Elite Coonery Squadron for at least four years but this ... wait, I hear my cell phone. Hello.

Who is this? It’s who? The ancestors calling from the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean? What are you saying - wait calm down, calm down stop yelling!! Ok, got it.

Kunta and them said they did NOT endure the Middle Passage for you and Matumbe to be posted up on an ‘88 Honda talm’ ‘bout Zulu-mannin’ that hoe while your cousin breakbacks it to congos in the background!



Shaka is going to fug. you. up.


So for those of you who aren’t aware, apparently Naija is a cutesy term for Nigerian which is a cutesy term for ratchet charlatan who will try to get you to wire them $5,000 to help them secure the future of their kingdom.

Yup, I’m that batch. Bring it on Naija Boyz!

In addition to cooking up some of the most HEELARIOUS direct-to-DVD Nigerian movies you could ever hope to see (don’t act like you haven’t scanned the back cover of “Ajila’s Choice” while gnawing on a goat nugget at the African swap meet...) apparently Naijas also enjoy remaking videos of the American hood variety.

I could go on about the trials and tribulations of Nigerian music, but the power of grayskull won’t let me. So I’ll just post the videos and let you sift through your emotions.

Tissues are in the drawer.

*Warning: These Naija videos include several disturbing images of Motherland hoodery.



Naija Girls (Proof that the horrors of $50 sew ins have indeed hit the Motherland)





I'm not going to sit here and lie to you: I've been fascinated by the banginess of African pop culture for at least a century. More than once The African Channel's soap operas have left me posted up on a couch for hours on end, determined to figure out if Mnuembe really DID get it on with Onyeka after the Naija Boyz concert in Lagos!

If you've got a hankering for more ratchetry, and let's face it, you're ignorant so you definitely do, check out NaijaTube and prepare for uncontrollable weeping and kee kees. In that order.

For real tho? Lil Wayne/Jennifer Lopez Team for New Video

Gas is high. Osama bin Laden is dead. Jennifer Lopez music videos are back on and poppin'. Tell me this ain't end times - I dare you!

I can't speak for you, but I've been eagerly waiting for the Grand Emperor of the Troll People (Lil Wayne's official title - The More You Know!) to tap the eff out - if not from having 40 children a quarter, then at least from spitting a random "Carter" on the track of anybody willing to pay him in Rap Snax and QPs. Nivea and Lil Wayne need to hook back up so he'll be distracted...

And that's my colorful way of saying this shit right here is tragic.

Have. A. SEAT.

We won't address the brand placement - after all, you didn't think Jennifer Lopez could afford the dancers from the Coming To America bridal intro scene (I see your "She's your queeeeeen to beeeeeeee" steez about three minutes in...) on her not so lucrative salary as a washed up red carpet barnacle did you? Or did you think J Lo perfume sales were making it happen? *snort laugh*

For the record, I have always thought JLo was fabulously cunt and sick on the dance floor. Especially back in 1994 when she was most relevant as a Fly Girl on assorted In Living Color episodes. Yep, back before I had a period, she was the shizz. Mmmhmmm. Back before the Interweb.

In other words: THE GOOD SHIP RELEVANCE HAS SAILED AND YOU ARE NOT ON IT.

Your time has come. And gone. What are Jennifer Lopez babies doing right now? Oh yes - WEEPING PROFUSELY.

When I witness shenanigans such as JLo and her continued career, I feel like tearing my degree in half - why mama, why didn't you tell me to focus on ass injections and perfecting my cha cha slide?

I too could have stacked my chips and saved up to rent the old set of Janet Jackson's "Love Will Never Do Without You" - covered myself in bottle caps and writhed my way to musical sexcellence.

Because that's REALLY all that's going on here.

And now, for no reason other than the fact that I get pure and unadulterated life from watching that one dancer undulate in control top tights, I leave you with the Zamunda breakdown:




When I think about the adhesives that protected my 8-year-old eyes from random flashes of peen and vajay lips I say a prayer for 3M...

Doing Too Much Warning: Mashonda remakes Juicy Fruit

This right here is the type of shit that makes a batch wanna take to the streets with a sock full of billiard balls straight swingin’ at hoes. I mean seriously – you just gonna remake Juicy Fruit?

I mean – didn’t change a lyric. Didn’t add an additional "ooooo baby." Didn’t put Gucci on there. No. You just Google’d “Song I Was Conceived To,” printed out the lyrics to "Juicy Fruit" at Staples and headed down to the Ark Music Company for your debut? Nevermind that it’s anybody’s guess why you are taking us back to the era when Rick James wasn’t full-figured – you couldn’t AT LEAST use the robot voice or something, just to mix it up??


Mtume says this ain’t over AT ALL Mashonda. PS: Pedro looks like he will snatch a bitch weave out and throw it in the fireplace with the QUICKNESS. Be concerned!


I'm issuing a Code Booger Green “You’re doin’ way too much boo boo” alert for Mashonda, in light of her recent antics.

* dims light, screen drops down, grabs laser pointer *

My data shows that Mashonda has been involved in an upswing of foolywang incidents – a veritable blitzreig of fuggery – over the past two quarters. You'll find in your information packets a pie chart documenting the ratio of fuggery to non-fuggery as well as details of recent incidents. These include:

Exhibit A: The High Top Crotch Shot


(Note to Mashonda: That dude from Cameo – you know, the one with the shiny thang holder – called and he sounded REAL cranky…)
Exhibit B:

Love & Hip Hop |Olivia Longott |Somaya Reece |Mashonda Tifrere

The Love and Hip Hop shenanigan unfolding each and every weekend as part of VH1’s all-new “evening with a coon” lineup.

(Watch out BET – VH1 is changing the negro hijinx game. Hummin’ comin’ atcha!)

And finally,

Exhibit C: The launch of “Mashondaloyal.com” (subtle, boo) which includes excerpts from her new hardcover (!) book originally titled “Bitter: Party of One!” but subsequently changed to “Death of a Mermaid: Rebirth of a Goddess” – because that makes the most sense, clearly.

I’m personally saving up my coins for the much anticipated Blu Cantrell memoire “Tales of a Light Skint Nothin’” but that hasn’t stopped me from checking out excerpts from Mermaid (!):

One day, I skipped school and as I was walking through Greenwich Village someone walked up to me and said he liked my look. He also wanted to know if I sang and I responded, "hell, yes!" I was immediately invited to join a girl group and although the group didn't work out, that introduction led entrée into the music industry. Within months, I was co-writing and singing with the members of Full Force, who were sizzling hot from their work with Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera and N Sync.

My co-writing with Full Force led to a deal on Warner/Chapell Music as a songwriter. I was
20-years old and scored a $50,000 writing contract.

(Fact check: Her bio says she was born in 1981, which would make it 2002 when she would have been singing with Full Force – an eyebrow raiser unless she was singing with Full Force while composing Jr. Bacon Cheeseburgers at Wendy’s on the swing shift…)

But back to the matter at hand.

I have sympathy for Mashonda and all.
I mean, for one, bearing a name that’s clearly the result of a moms who was a Civic drivin’ potato enthusiast can’t be easy. Nor can watching your hawk-faced Arab schlong dealer husband frolicking in the province of Fierce with a beweaved mulatress be an easy pill to swallow.

It’s all so trifling and confusing and I understand that.

But these stunts and antics she’s been rollin’ out lately are just not the question, the answer OR the aftermath.

If she continues with this, I’ll be forced to issue an official Ho Sit Down decree.

After that, I catch the Bolt bus up to Harlem and straighten a batch out face to face. You don’t want that to happen. Ask Foxy.

Ginuwine compares Aaliyah to Beyonce (A THN "Ninja Please" moment)

Awww damn, Ginuwine is flaring up again. I keep telling you, no matter how long it's gone, and no matter how smooth the skin looks, you got to keep taking the pills and using the cream-gel, or else your Ginuwine is gonna come back.

You would think they would have a cure for this by now.

He tells AOL's Boombox

"Aaliyah was in a class by herself," Ginuwine tells The BoomBox. "If you're talking triple threat of a writer, singer and actress, that would probably be Beyoncé. If Aaliyah were still here, she and Beyoncé would be neck and neck."

Oh Elgin. Why you still bringing up old shit?


Aaliyah is dead.
Lauryn Hill has gone bananas.
Sighted women are having sex with Gucci Mane.
And Rihanna is strangely a star for something that doesn’t involve a pole or the words “clap clap.”

Life sometimes can be confusing. You may find yourself frightened in a world that seems strange and disorienting, much like Chris Brown’s new blond hair. But we got to just move on with our lives boo!

And with that in mind, I urge you to duck back down into your mole hole Elgin – because it has NOT gone unnoticed that you are still trying to séance your career back to life (you didn’t think this whole post was about Aaliyah? Girl bye, she’s in another dimension drinking Lokos and plucking her nose hairs right now – wholly unbothered).

No, this post is actually about the sudden Ginuwine outbreak. Don’t get THN wrong – back in the “In Those Jeans” days, Elgin was ridin’ high. That video was DOOOOOPE. But lest we forget from whence my shade floweth, let me just remind you of THIS little incident the other month:



Many doves cried over that one.

Until Mr. ‘wine decides to make reasonable music befitting a man of his advanced age, I will continue to remind him of his Code Lavendar irrelevance status and warn him not to leave his home again. You are a ghost. And ghosts have to stay in Phantasmagora.

As you were.

Mashonda (and her crotch) cover King Magazine

I said in my heart that I wasn’t going to go there with this.

That I was just going to keep seeing the Twizzler-themed Wonder Woman redux picture splashed across the Interweb and avert my eyes. That I was going to ignore Mashonda’s obvious grab for dominance of the superhero couture fashion world and have a glass of milk and a prayer instead.
But I. Just. Can’t.

Someone, anyone, explain to me what in the 15-inch crotch, tape-tuck HAYLE is going on in this picture? Is Mashonda coming out as intersexed or something? Because that tuck is implying that there’s a little something going on in the belfry, if ya know what I mean. (Eh? Eh? Am I right! Ahhh whatever.) And why are her thighs squoze together this way? Does she need to pee?

Does she have a baby crowning? Don’t just sit there snappin’ booty shots – get this woman to an ob/gyn!

I like thickness. Everyone likes thickness. When have you heard someone say something like “Send this milkshake back, it’s too damned thick!” or “Could you please thin my hair out stylist, it’s too thick!” or “I would love Steve Harvey, but his moustache/lips/nose/accent/fade is too thick!” (shade fever)

Anyways, I say that to say, this is not a question of thickness, so no shade is being thrown at her honeybaked thighs. The laser precision side eye is being directed toward the obvious disrespect that King Magazine has for my status as an esteemed graduate of kindergarten. How you have a 44Z cup, Lane Bryant thighs and a Tweety Bird waist boo? Yeah, that doesn’t really happen.

Angel Lola Luv you say? Buffy the Body you say? Nicki Minaj you saaaaay?

Again I repeat – that shat does NOT really happen. Now sheisty queens swindling unwitting broads out of their coins and into a lifetime of latex poisoning care of dirty needles and Avon-style bootie “enhancement” parties? ? Now THAT happens ALL THE TIME.

Meanwhile, am I the only person who recalls THIS Mashonda over the past 32 summers:


(and don't think for a SECOND the ash on that knee has escaped my sight...)


I will overlook you going from Hershey to Original Recipe in the skin tone department. But the Blood of the Lamb won’t let me ignore that your girls look a lot less “vavavavoooom” and much more “napping quietly after a hot toddy.”

I would hum swing low sweet chariot, but that would just be tired.

Photoshop won’t let my ocular nerves be great. At. All.

*shrug* I just thought somebody should know.

(PS: Bitch if you only KNEW the glamosity of the leotard I have on under this suit you would understand how foolish it is for Mashonda to ever think she could mean ANYTHING to the high fashion superhero game. *swirls cape and stomps off in silver knee-high boots*)

THN hits 100! (And while you were sleeping ...)

This. Happened. In. America.


Why won't Chapstick sponsor this man? It's just the right thing to do.

What better way to mark the 100th post of THN (milestones people, milestones) than with the delicately understated, classical beauty of Gucci Mane.

In the immortal words of W.E.B. DuBois: Killin' 'em with those lips, better yet those golds.

Gucci Mane, we salute thee.

Jermaine Jackson penning Michael Jackson book - and other shameless efforts to make money off the dead

I take a few days off to have my lady bits serviced and take my cat to the psychic, come back and find Nate Dogg done died, Japan exploded and Jermaine Jackson (henceforth refered to as JermJack) and his Bart-Simpson-Gumbie hybrid hair are back on the scene.

I thought I told Dr. Mephisto to lock the lab UP afterward?!

From AP:

Touchstone announced Wednesday that Jermaine Jackson's "You Are Not Alone: Michael: Through a Brother's Eye" will be released this fall. Touchstone, an imprint of Simon & Schuster, promises a "faithful and loving portrait," but one with "no subject off limits."
Jackson spoke in 2003 of wanting to write a memoir and reports surfaced again after Michael's death, in 2009.
Sisters Janet Jackson and La Toya Jackson also have books out this year.

At the risk of exposing myself for the cynical, bitter, rude bastard I am, I’m going to go ahead and ask: Am I the only person who really doesn’t think there’s much more to learn about Michael Jackson that we don’t already know? I mean, this book could reveal that he was intersexed, bipolar, had a Maury Povich-style-hiding-behind-the-dresser clown phobia and married his pet mouse Ben in a ceremony at the Mormon Temple in Bethesda overseen by the Rev. Run and featuring Bubbles as his best man and I would be like



Nucca was on another level that is as of yet discovered by most humans. I think that much is clear.

The real question is why the Jackson family refuses to give us what we REALLY want, indeed, what generations of NASA scientists the world over have been clamoring for: A clear, concise, scientifically sound and decisive explanation of what comprises Jermaine Jackson’s hair. Sure we have our theories – Let’s Jam hair gel mixed with shoe polish. Magic Marker. An industrial grade polymer-clay-gel mixture trademarked as Plasticine. But why can’t we get a true answer?

Instead we get denials that there’s been, ahem, a “transition.” Review:

Exhibit A:

Normal negritude. Nose prevalent yet not offensive. Hair of moderate napp-tencity. (Imma just leave Mike’s camisole with the bow on it right where it is…)

Exhibit B:


Transitional negritude. Still identifiable as a human, though gender specification increasingly unclear. Though showing signs of early shellacking, head covering still identifiable as "hair."

And finally *snatches off sheet*

Exhibit C:


Negritude still apparent; nose has taken on three-pronged scrotal appearance. Skin-like substance apparent; evidence of extensive sand blasting. Industrial-strength shellack apparent along sides of heaed with high-performance gel and or Japanese hand-pressing technique employed.


Now you tell me we don't deserve some answers!

The only Jackson book I’m paying for will be penned buy JermJack’s hair or Joe Jackson’s (henceforth refered to as Blow Joe) Lucifer-lookin’ eyebrows.

Otherwise, I can’t be bothered to set aside my sandwich.

I hate you so much right now: Waka Flaka Flame appears naked in PETA campaign

WARNING: Not safe for life.



From BallerStatus.com
GET ME MY SMELLING SALTS RIGHT NOW - I can see it's gonna be a looooong year.


To quote our prolific Lady of One Million Facial Ticks, Nicki Minaj, I doth say: Ew.
I mean, bless his heart, but Waka Flocka isn't exactly a Ford Model. And I say that to say that his situation from the neck up was already tenuous at best. Between the hair and the lips and the brow and the whole being as tall as a cell phone tower thing, he has a LOT going on.

But ninjas just HAD to throw in the Spongebob Squarepants hips. Nevermind that I'm simultaneously cramming to understand how that little corner of bling is protecting my eyes from a far more aggregious assault - yet singing "Can you feel it, brand new day!" inside that they are indeed protecting my eyes from said assault.

Meanwhile, am I the only one who feels like this could be an LA Fitness ad? Waka got a body like a tube of toothpaste. How you just not have ANY muscles - even the ones required to walk? Put a coat on!




Think about how many groupies came home, dropped their draws and waited patiently in the bed for THIS to round the corner.

DO NOT WANT.

I suppose I could support this young negro scribe for taking a stance against animal abuse – but I make a point not to get mixed up in too much ball queen drama, so instead I’ll just sit in the corner quietly sipping my Shirley Temple and wait for Michael Vick to bust through the door and CAT this ninja for the open shade.

Ink not Mink eh? Expect Gucci to pass on the sentiment AND the campaign.

And the world breaths a collective sigh of relief.

Da Brat is out and her milkshake is intact (Macarena celebration jam Saturday!)

(Does anyone else get a "not without my Herpecin!" vibe from this pic? I'm just sayin. Valtrex is an option.)

Let me start by stating the obvious: Until all of my sisters are free from the horror of cheap wigs, none of us has truly overcome.

Anywho, while I was in the bathroom "reducing," the gays sneaked this on me. Mmmhmm Da Brat (yes, the 36-year-old yesterapper who is clinging to 1993 like the last scoop of chitlins in the bowl)is out. Awwwwww snap - Cleveland pride is gonna be CRUNK this year!!!!

Meanwhile, where was CNN to cover this???? FUCKIN. UP.

From Boombox:

Fresh off her release from prison, Da Brat is excited to get back into the swing of things. The female rapper is prepping tons of new projects including new music, a book, and getting up to speed on Twitter. Earlier this week, the 36-year-old completed a three-year bid for assaulting a waitress with an alcohol bottle back in 2007, and her new found freedom has changed her outlook on just about everything.

Insert booming Wizard of Oz laughter. Am I truly an evil to the core bitch for keekeeing my shoes clean off my feet at every third word in this paragraph? PS: 10 packs of cigarettes says the book title involves the words "relevance" "struggle" and "pork chop."

Speaking of which, I could've sworn I had ordered a pork chop drop for her release.

Exactly three years to the day Monday, sweet, sticky slabs of meat were supposed to rain down over the prison exit millionth-customer style; I knew Shawntae would look to the heavens, open her mouth and thank me for the show of solidarity. *Cue SWV Rain video*

Whatevs. More please:

Da Brat spoke with xxlmag.com about her newfound freedom after being released from prison on Monday, Feb. 28. Now the rapper is discussing what life was like behind bars and how she was the top dog on every cell block.

Uh oh. This is veering. The wheel is turning. Slowly. Slowly. Yes - IT HAS OFFICIALLY GONE TO THE LEFT OF SANITY.

Man, they kept me on lockdown there because they all would be singing my song. They would be in a line and I’d walk through that joint and they would be like ‘what do you like.’ And,the officers would be like ‘yo, yo fall in line,' but they wouldn’t listen,” said Brat. “... They shipped me outta there in a week.”

Ehh hemmm. I see. Yes. Shipped you out. Pandemonium you say?

It was crazy! I mean all the officers and counselors told me that the girls never bought so much makeup and got in trouble for tight pants,” explained Brat. “It was so funny. I was rollin’ off that s---. Everybody was trying to be homies and friends. Wash my clothes, do my hair, and just everything. I was a boss b---- in that m-----------.

Judge not lest ye be judged - Da Brat just wants you to know her milkshake still brings all the girls to the yard! Mmmmmk. Something tells me the only thing she got in trouble for was hoarding Cup O'Noodles, galavanting around in Lil Bow Wow braids and just generally refusing to leave the Clinton era and enter the Obama years.

But you didn't hear that from me.

If she starts coming for Nikki Minaj (Booty Mirage) talm bout her stolen "shine" Japanese ritual suicide won't be far behind for me.

Bury me a G.

Today in irrelevance: Nelly and Kelly video remake is officially happening! (because if you're like me, you couldn't wait any longer)

I'm thinking there's gonna be some consequences and repurcussions when YMCA figures out what was goin' down in the senior pool.

From Necole Bitchie

Kelly and Nelly recently turned up the heat just a bit on the set of their new video for “Gone”, the sequel to “Dilemma”. According to Nelly, the video is an extension of the first video that was shot back in 2001 and will premiere early March.

The operative words here are "back in" and "2001". Time out: Wasn't this shat out when the Trade Centers were still up? New rule: No remaking of songs the terrorists might have had on their iPods!

But seriously, it's like somebody read my mind. For so many years I've struggled with this bizarre sense of emptiness. A hollow in my soul, the cause of which I couldn't quite place. I tried to fill it with the usual stuff - drugs, alcohol, 10 babies. And yet, nothing seemed to make it better.

Until now. There is truly a ribbon in the sky on this blessed Thursday. Now excuse me while I do The Worm to "Oh Happy Day."