Stop Assuming I Like Madea You Racist!

I was totally pumped when I read about TBS canceling Tyler Perry's House of Payne. That show was on for 127 episodes too long. Too bad in the same breath they're letting him have another show, based off yet another group of his characters. "For Better or Worse" is based off his movie "Why Did I Get Married?" and while those movies had no trace of Madea (I was DEVASTATED!) I highly doubt he'll miss a perfect opportunity to remind everyone it's his property by putting himself in it. It's not like we don't know when it's his movie. He put's "Tyler Perry's" in front of everything he does, as if anyone else would produce those stinking piles of shit he creates in his Bible thumping, agenda powered Jesus factory. You're not fucking Shakespeare! Just because you put your name in front of it doesn't make your stuff classics!

If you couldn't tell, I'm might not be the biggest fan of Tyler Perry.

I'm so fucking sick of dumbass ignorant bitches asking me if I fucking love those Tyler Perry movies! No. I have a brain. I refuse to sit through yet another all black film that only retools the same five story lines while getting cheap laughs from stereotypes and expecting to be taken serious by the general public. You're not producing art while running around in drag, acting like a belligerent negro and simply getting laughs from making white people believe this is the way we do and should act. You look like you're in scenes cut from the movie Norbit.

To be fair, I admire him as a business man. He created an entire empire off his plays and continues to make movies and television that gives him so much exposure. I just wish he could do that without sending black people back 50 years.

I could really get behind him if he stopped doing the same tired storyline. Black woman is wronged by her man. Black woman angry. Black woman SMASH! Oh. I'm sorry. It's Madea who comes in and wrecks everything. But it's ok. The Black woman goes to church, finds herself a man, forgives the man that wronged her and lives happily ever after because she found Jesus again... or for the first time. All that matters is Jesus happens!

And people love to talk about Tyler Perry when they hear I want to make movies. Of course I should want to be Tyler Perry. Look at him running down the street wearing sandbags on his chest. Totally something to aspire to be! And don't get me started on thinking outside the box and being creative!

I mean, he had an amazing opportunity to shut critics (and myself) up with "For Colored Girls." Critically acclaimed play NOT written by him that he was translating to film. He even had an amazing cast of actresses for the lead! And what did he do? Fuck it ALL up by infusing Jesus overtones that didn't need to be there.

It's not all about you Tyler. Seriously. Let it go!

And he loves to call out Hollywood for being racist towards him. Let me let you in on a little secret Tyler. Hollywood doesn't hate your movies because they're racist. They hate them because they're shit. If anything, you're racist! You want to give black actors center stage because, I agree, there are not enough good African American vehicles out there. Emphasis on GOOD. Why don't you try it sometime? Putting a whole bunch of black people in a movie isn't doing any of us a favor when all they do is demean us. But you're supposed to be praised because you put us all in your flicks. I'm sorry. If it was a white director, you'd be all up in arms about it. Any other ethnicity couldn't put out the films you do without being considered insensitive, yet you're getting away with the murder of our culture. I can't believe you got second place at the box office this weekend. $25 million? Really? And you can't afford lessons on how to put out a quality film?

And if you want to call out my boy Spike Lee one more time for holding you back, Imma have to find you myself! Spike Lee and John Singleton... now those are black filmmakers I aspire to be. And it's not like they don't have strong voices about the black community, which often exposes stuff we wouldn't like to share with other. But they have artistic integrity. I know you don't know what that mean Tyler. You are in fact making yet ANOTHER Madea movie!

Or Shonda Rhimes! Creator of Grey's Anatomy, Private Private Practice and producer for a multitude of shows. She's amazing and gets no credit. She writes all her characters without any ethnicity and let the best actor get the parts. That's a novel idea! Instead of resting on the schtick of having an all black cast just so that you know we'll all come flock to your movie, why not just write a movie and let the best actors get the rolls. How about resting on your "talent" for a change? I dare you.

Honestly, I've seen "Diary of a Mad Black Woman." It's actually a good movie. Too bad he's redone it seven times already. I will not deny that his stuff is probably really funny and enjoyable. I would probably like his movies like everyone else does. But I can't promote the idea that black cinema can be boiled down to finding Jesus and jokes based purely on stereotypes.

A good friend of mine always asks me when we're going to have a African American movie classic. Where's our "Godfather"? Where's our "Sunset Boulevard"? Where's our "Casablanca"? I feel like some of my greats can't do it, I have to work really hard to make it happen myself. All I know is that the most successful black director/producer and Forbes "6th Highest Paid Man in Hollywood" can't do it. He's too busy driving cars into fast food joints dressed as an old lady. Anyone else see a problem with that?

I mean, how obnoxious are the ads for his latest movie?


I see this shit everywhere in LA! And the eyes...

...They follow you.

This Exactly How I Feel!

I love this Sun Drop commercial! I never see it anymore but everyone should be required to watch it once a day!

Adventures with White People: Part Deux (Duh)!

I should have learned my lesson. I already did my good deed for the century by hanging out with Navaar and company that one brain numbing excuse for a night of fun. I paid my debt to society, lost a couple of brain cells and my faith in humanity. So why would I possibly go back over there? Was it because Emily was having the time of her life overseas and I needed a buddy? Was I so bored that I really chose to risk the last few IQ points I had desperately saved from my last encounter? Or did I want to just laugh at some stupid people?

I really can’t say. Friendships make you do funny things… like trip and fall into an experience I never thought I’d have.

Before I go on, I should tell you that I really love Navaar and Max. That being said, my friends are idiots. If you don’t know who I’m talking about, please see the first post of Adventures with White People.

Navaar invited me to hang out with him and Max at his house. Both his father and brother were gone for the night so the house was all to ourselves. OH JOY! I sat on the couch and watch Max and Navaar take turns sucking at Metal Gear Solid 3 for about an hour before the night really picked up. As Navaar ran upstairs to get his computer, I was faced with a very awkward issue.

My last encounter with the boys introduced me to the wonderful Rory. And while I could see he was just a useless, self-centered juicehead, I found out that I wasn’t the only one not charmed by him. Apparently Max wasn’t TEAM RORY either, but not for the reason I thought. Max had an issue with the way Rory and Navaar talked to each other. They took the bromance idea to a new level. And while Rory and Navaar confessed their undying love for each other while punching each other in the arm yet longingly looking into each other’s eyes, Max sat in the corner trying to not think about his best friend balls deep in Rory. Or vice versa. Rory seems like he’d be a bitchy little bottom…

While I was excited about having someone on my side, I feared that Max didn’t know that I too secretly wished to be balls deep in Rory. Not in a gay way. Though I am gay and that’s the point of it all. I would just like to put the bitch in his place. Awkward Moment.

All night I debated whether or not to do something with the awkward tension in the air. Max had been my friend for years. Did he really believe I would just jump his bones? Didn’t he know I was into Rory?!?! After sitting in silence for awhile, I finally asked him if he knew I was gay. And just like that, things were fine. Of course he knew I was gay! He’s totally fine with it. He just didn’t like the fact that the last time we hung out Navaar and Rory were playing out the beginning scene of every gay porno ever! Totally understandable.

So what does this have to do with my crazy night? Nothing really. Just wanted to avoid explaining what happened next:

It was interesting that the last time we got together, neither one of them could even approach a woman. Yet Navaar was descending the stairs, with computer in hand and the best idea ever: Let’s find a prostitute on Craigslist for him and Max to double team. He was nice enough to offer finding a man for myself, but I knew that there was a special guy waiting for me across the country. That and I'm too damn sexy to have to pay for some adult fun.

What I thought was a joke became going to the ATM for money, discussing how they were going to trick her into a two for one deal and calling the hoe over. That’s not an insult. It’s her career.

Thirty minutes later, I watched as a nickel was actually let into the house (She was definitely not a dime. Discounted price people!). Of course she didn’t fall for their scheme to get to Eiffel Tower her, and because we feared the wrath of her pimp and he put in ten more dollars than Max, it was Navaar was the lucky trick of the night. It’s really weird to sit downstairs as your friend bangs a hooker in his bedroom. What’s worse is when the bathroom downstairs is occupied, and you have to go to the bathroom next to the sexy time room while you try and take a deuce, forced to listen to the soundtrack of their “lovemaking.”

After the standard amount of time (Good Job Navaar!), she left, I went home and the three of us never spoke of it again….

Oh! And if you plan on having sex with a hooker while your friends are in the house, close the fucking door please! It was so unfortunate that I had to see that and then judge.

Official Rating: Ehhhh…


And yes. The sex was more awkward than that!

My Friends are Better than Yours!

No really they are. I know it sounds like something screamed by some bratty, overweight little monster on the playground but it’s true; I have the best friends ever. Actually I should say I have the best, best friends ever. Over nine of them if I were to guess the number. Each one of them close to my heart; each one of them different and unique (except for Jorin and Josh. Damn Evil Twins!). At the same time, each one just as loyal and trustworthy as the next one. Anyone of them would drop whatever they were doing to help me out. I love them. As I get ready to go back to Florida to see most of them, my heart is filled with joy just at the thought of being on the same coast as them.

A baby could have been conceived since I went across the country and robbed them of my glorious presence. As I’m gearing up for yet another cross-country adventure, I’m finally ready to fill everyone in on my journey across the country (For like the third time. I know. I was slacking!). But the only thing bigger than my trip were the people in my life: the people who made it possible for me to make my dream come true, the people who were waiting to help me start the new chapter in my life, and most importantly, the people who made it so hard for me to leave.

But there is one person, my soul mate Emily, who holds a special place in my heart. As I get ready to make another trip to Florida and the subsequent sequel across the country with my “Hell NAH! I’ll never like that Douche bag” best friend Jorin, I can’t help to think of my short white girl doppelganger that I wish to tenderly duct tape and throw in his trunk.

As we drive across the country and forget to feed her, she’ll pray for a weak spot to let the raindrops in to nourish her… but such hope will never come. She’ll have to drink her own tears. And when just enough days go by, and she’s about to die of dehydration, we’ll open the trunk and remember she’s in there. Then we’ll give her a good life in California (I promise).

Wait. I just got WAY off topic. And how come it got so creepy? Anyways…

Emily is down for anything. Anytime. (Not like that dirty!) She’s just a great friend. Calling her a friend is probably an insult at this point. We’ve been through so much since meeting in high school. Friendships and relationships have come and gone, but we’ve always been there for each other. When I was away at college and my mother was diagnosed with cancer, it was Emily I trusted to take care of the most important person in my life. She’s my everything.

Originally, this post was supposed to be about the spontaneous day trip we took to the Keys together. How we made Key West our bitch: roaming the halls of hotels we didn’t stay at, eating ice cream by the sea, and finding our way into back alley gay porn stores, where you leather is on the menu and they have a personalized jizz rag for everyone. I’m supposed to tell you how that was to be our last big outing before she went to Europe for the summer and how I couldn’t see her off at the airport. That when she touched back in the USA, I would have been halfway across the country. Neither of us would get the decent goodbye our friendship deserved.

But all I can think about are all the crazy things going on her life. And how the daily phone calls aren’t a substitute for getting ice cream and discussing our problems until the streetlights come on. All I want to do is hug her. I’ll be seeing her in less than a month but it’s just so bitter sweet.

An alternate title for this blog was “A Love Letter to Emily.” (LAME!)

Love you Emily. See you soon.