Dear Ray J:

As proud as you are about your sexual adventures with Kim Kardashian, I think it’s time someone informed you that no sex is worth obsessing over nearly a decade later. I realize most men think of their penises as magical, so you can continue to think your wand can turn random rats into Cinderella’s chauffeurs all you want, but dude, enough already. Do you realize how utterly pathetic and desperate you sound with this terrifically terrible track “I Hit It First”?

For the record, you’re not Kim K's first. Secondly, your penis didn’t make her a star. That celebutante train was already running thanks to Paris Hilton and a booming American obsession with all things celebrity. You were nothing more than a vessel, sir, and if it wasn’t you in that homemade porno, it would’ve likely been some other second tier Black celebrity coaching Kim through what looked like some of the most boring sex in history (more so her fault, though).

If anything, she boosted your profile because you wouldn’t have become Flavor Flav Jr. without that affiliation. It’s not Kim’s fault she’s gone on to create an empire and your career highlight is still that time someone asked if you were Brandy’s brother over a Neptunes beat.

Now if the song weren’t bad enough, you had the nerve to say it wasn’t about her. What was it you said on the radio again? "It’s a song. It’s not about that. It’s about a concept. People going way too deep. It's not a war, it's not a dis song, we're just having fun. Bring it back to the song. That's all I'm on."

You know damn well the single cover is a pixilated image of Kim in a bikini. And you “sing” the line, "I hit it north/ with her ass goin' south/ but now baby chose to go west” as you go on to offer the chance to “make another movie.” If you’re going to be a sexist prick the least you could do is not punk out in owning it.

You have me feeling sorry for Kim Kardashian. What kind of monster would do that?

Bottom line, Kim is about to be someone’s mama, man, so do her and the rest of the world a favor and stop swinging from her bra strap, since there’ll soon be a real baby way more deserving of her boobs. The next time you want to relive Kim Kardashian’s sex tape, do it privately on Internet like other creeps.

And the next time you think to head to the studio to record, call your acting coach and Sinbad instead.

Dear LL Cool J:

I’m not sure if there’s anything I can say to you that won’t be as harsh as what our ancestors will be saying to you in your nightmares from this life into the next seven over “Accidental Racism,” but it’s worth trying.

What would possess you to join Brad Paisley’s attempt to do an Ashanti and Ja Rule inspired duet about rocking the confederate flag on your chest and Chevy truck? I saw your house on Oprah’s Next Chapter, so it can’t be tax troubles. You get that good CBS check, too, so it’s not as if you’re breaking into sweats late at night hoping the next In The House residual check will cover the light bill.

So why this:

"The past is the past, ya feel me? Let bygones be bygones."

“If you don’t judge my du-rag, I won’t judge your red flag.”

"If you don't judge my gold chains, I'll forget the iron chains?"

What in the Black friend hell nonsense is this, Mr. Smith? And Negro, did your Black self shout out Robert E. Lee and thank Abraham Lincoln for “freeing” you? Jesus be context; Allah be a better lesson plan; Beyoncé, save us all.

I excused, "Deepest, bluest, my hat is like a shark's fin." I made sure to forget about that creepy uncle “Ratchet” song you dropped and quickly discarded. But this – this – is unforgivable. This sounds a lullaby made just for Alan Keyes.

The last thing this country needs is another Black man trivializing the history of racism in this country and the role it continues to play in the here and now. If you want to be Brad’s BFF, that’s your choice, but did you have to co-sign his little pleas for white sympathy? Boo hoo, southern whites lost a secessionist war, and as David Weigel at Slate notes, “answered by 15 years of occupation and forced suffrage of blacks, which was superseded by 80 more years of segregation and Jim Crow laws.” Poor them.

By the way, LL, David is white and proof there are much better options when it comes to making white friends.

Michael Arceneaux is the author of the “The Weekly Read,” where on the surface the shade might make the culprit want to curse, but trust, it comes from a place of concern. Tweet him at @youngsinick.