<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/plusone.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID\x3d13627209\x26blogName\x3dThe+Cynical+Ones\x26publishMode\x3dPUBLISH_MODE_BLOGSPOT\x26navbarType\x3dBLUE\x26layoutType\x3dCLASSIC\x26searchRoot\x3dhttp://thecynicalones.blogspot.com/search\x26blogLocale\x3den_US\x26v\x3d2\x26homepageUrl\x3dhttp://thecynicalones.blogspot.com/\x26vt\x3d-4590904552691322950', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script>
About Me

Writer. Music head. Political junkie. Pop culture whore. Funny black boy. Looking to have a voice in the world -- with a few good sponsors.

View My Complete Profile


Find Me Here:

The Recession Diaries

The Spin

Stay Tuned

Twitter


The Roll

1016

Aliya King

All That I Am: A Diary of My Randymethoughts Pt. II

Amerika's Muse

Bark + Bite

Basement Elevation

Bomani Jones

Bossip

Brooklyn Sista

Clay Cane

Concrete Loop

crunk and disorderly

Dope Penmanship

Fly Cliches

Four Four

GangStarrGirl

Got Sole?

Hot 2 Def Inc.

Incommunicado

Just Another Girl on the IRT

Me, Myself An Eye

Middlechild Promotions

Mz. Virgo

Necole Bitchie

Negrita Linda

One Boy Revolution

Oo Itz Santo

Queen of the Non Sequiturs

Queen To Be

Rhymes With Snitch

Soulbounce

Straight From The A

Thank God I'm Famous

That Grape Juice

The Fury

The Real 7

The search for RELLevance

Think2wice

Toya's World



Previous Posts

C'mon, Election
Do I Need A Raincoat?
Rachel Ray Is Not A Terrorist...Or Is She?
Another Day, A New Rapper
Who Likes Champagne & Ribs?
Originality Is So 90s
Chris Pokes Idol
We Must Be In A Recession
On The Right To Be Miserable
Here I Stand (With Tameka's Permission)

archives

May 2005
June 2005
July 2005
August 2005
September 2005
October 2005
November 2005
December 2005
January 2006
February 2006
March 2006
April 2006
May 2006
June 2006
July 2006
August 2006
September 2006
October 2006
November 2006
December 2006
January 2007
February 2007
March 2007
April 2007
May 2007
June 2007
July 2007
August 2007
September 2007
October 2007
November 2007
December 2007
January 2008
February 2008
March 2008
April 2008
May 2008
June 2008
July 2008
August 2008
September 2008
October 2008
November 2008
December 2008
January 2009
February 2009
March 2009
April 2009
May 2009
June 2009
July 2009
August 2009
September 2009
October 2009


Add to Technorati Favorites

Site Meter

free page hit
counter

Monday, June 02, 2008
12:00 AM


Help Me: Usher

 

Dear Michael,

It’s you boy, Usher (Ush-sha, Ush-aaah)!

Yeah, man!

I wanted to shock the world with my latest project, and show the world that I am a man now. This album is a journey that captures the moment in my life when I realized one very important thing: My mother is getting old, and I’ve got to find some other old lady to take care of me.

Who’s gonna love me when I’m down, ya dig? Who’s gonna be there for me when my star fades (like that’ll ever happen, but let’s pretend)? Who’s gonna burp me?

And so I found Tameka…A BEAUTIFUL, STRONG BLACK WOMAN.

Look at her! Yeah, man!

And you would think people would be happy by the fact that I found a woman who would both take care of me and cut up my carrots! Not to mention help me make my future masterpieces: Usher V, Usher, VI, and Usher VII.

Yeah, man!

But instead of people being happy about that, people keep starting rumors. Talking about my wife changed all the locks at my house, my wife tried to put my mother in a home, my wife tried to have Chilli sent back to 1992.

No, man!

And I can’t even focus on my masterpiece (well, second masterpiece, you do know Confessions is the new Thriller – YEAH MAN!), because of all this shade.

I love her to death and I'm a strong Black man in America standing up for my people. I coulda been like any other man who has a child and live with that woman and continue to mess around and make another Confessions album. Instead I’m doing it the right way – for my wife, my son, and my family. This is how you’re supposed to do it. I’m giving the fellas knowledge.

Yeah, man!

Knowledge like my wife is not 40 years old.

Stop that!

So I’m tired of ya’ll talking about me and my wife. What do I have to do to convince people of our STRONG BLACK (super duper BLACK) LOVE?!

I'm so happy, man.

Happy. Happy. Happy.

---

Dear Usher,

First off, if you’re happy, that’s wonderful. Having said that…

That’s a sippy cup full of “shut the fuck up” juice. Take it to the head.

You try to portray yourself as so much more mature than you used to be, but so far you’ve been acting the same way only now you found someone willing to be legally bound to your bitch fits.

Whenever you drop an album, you typically irk me with your delusions of grandeur, but I normally dismiss it because I like your music enough to ignore it. But since your album sucks, here we are.

What does you marrying a woman 40 almost 40 have to do with standing up for Black people? Is your being married a gesture to Black folk? Why do some people demand praise endlessly for something they're supposed to be doing anyway?

And if I'm not mistaken, you were cheating on Chilli with her while she was still legally married. Yeah, that's how you do it, fellas. I might be dead wrong about that, but that’s part of my point: You won’t shut up about this stuff, thus leaving it up for debate in the public.

I respect your right to defend your wife, but you bring your personal life into the public, so why do you act surprised when people comment on it? Better question: Why do you care?

Let me give you an example: You’re a Big Ben Vereen looking sum bitch. Now you could come at me, call me a fake ass Debarge or clown my teeth and toss a carrot at me. Or you could remind yourself that you’ve largely been considered a sex symbol, so who cares what I think about your looks. That makes sense, right? Why not apply that logic to criticism about you marrying your Auntie?

You feeling compelled to reiterate again and again (and again) that you and Tameka are so happy makes you look insecure. Do you think Beyonce cares that some people are worried that her first born might come out looking like a KOOL cigarette ad, or that Jay pays any mind to talk that his daughter’s first word will be lacefront?

They haven’t even confirmed or denied whether or not they're married. When it comes to answering questions about their relationship, they drop subtle hints then release a single together the second people stop looking at them. That works for them. Go find your own way, because this whining every other day shtick is not the business, pimpin’. Stop worrying about people comments on your happiness.

Rambling on about Tameka when you ought to be apologizing for that album. Here I Stand? Man, I should trip your ass.

Now go finish giving Tameka her pedicure. She ain’t got all day.

Michael

Labels:


The Cynical Ones.
posted by Michael at