If you have a sibling and can recall a time in which your mammy or pappy called you, your brother and sister, and maybe a cousin for a circular butt whooping, you know how this edition of The Weekly Read is going to go. I’m not going to cut a real switch, but there are numerous people who have tried it this week and need to stop it post haste.
So, in my best Mystikal voice, here I go, here I go…
Toni, I love you the way you love a high slit, but what in the hell were you talking about when you told Bethenny Frankel about your divorce, “Yes, I am in LA and my ex-husband is there but we get along great. We are very Caucasian, very white about it?”
In your mind, a Black divorce is, “I hate you Jody, I hate you Jody. That’s what it means to Black people.” To make it worse, you added, “Black people will kind of look and say why is that? Why don’t they hate each other?”
First of all, the Baby Boy couple wasn’t even married, so that reference doesn’t make sense. Now I don’t know what planet you’re on, Shug Avery of R&B (all hail Fresh for that reference), but in the rest of our worlds white people have just as tumultuous divorces as everyone else. See Mia Farrow and Woody Allen or any of Charlie Sheen’s ex-wives. And hell, take a stroll through one of these gentrified streets of Brooklyn or Harlem.
It is Black History Month, madam, so you needn’t be embarrassing us like that in front of company. I love your new album, though. I even bought it. Don’t make me regret it.
The Other Braxtons
I’ve been such a big fan of Braxton Family Values because its scope has largely been, “What if Cinderella got along with her wicked stepsisters?” However, after a couple of seasons and far too much hostility in a short amount of time, I increasingly feel weird about watching this. Like, it’s giving me flashbacks to the period of my life in which I wouldn’t invite friends over due to fears that an impromptu curse out might break out at any second. Though I’m used to seeing our people fight like high school girls on TV, it’s not as entertaining (forgive me for enjoying conflict conflated with alcohol and forced situations) when you realize the people fighting are kinfolk.
In recent interviews, the sourest apple of the bunch, Towanda Braxton, has gone out of her way to claim that media and people surfboarding through social media are making a big deal out of nothing. “Nothing” being the obvious jealousy she harbors towards her sister, Tamar Braxton. I’m used to celebrities blaming the media for the problems they created for themselves, but that’s something especially annoying about Towanda blaming audiences for daring to use their senses to detect her unnecessary shade.
Sorry, Towanda, you Yolanda Adams clone, you. But it’s not the media comparing your baby sister achieving a lifelong dream to passing gas or discounting her first award by declaring, “It’s not like it’s an Oscar.” It may not be an Oscar, but it’s more than what you ever won. As for you airing on Tamar’s husband’s tax debt on Twitter: If not for that man, Tamar and Toni’s involvement in the reality show, the only headlines you’d have on the Google would be for writing bad checks. Yes, I remember that. As should you.
If this family is going to treat each other the way Jermaine Jackson treated Michael on that infamous dis track “Word To The Badd,” y’all gotta get off reality TV and report directly to family therapy.
Katy, you are pretty much a year-long exercise in White people dressing the wrong way for Halloween. Every damn outfit. I know you are Rihanna’s celebrity BFF, but I imagine Rihanna is the kind of friend who won’t say, “Girl, eh’stop’dat.” Instead, she’ll probably just pass around the photos of you looking a White fool to Melissa and the crew captioned with “Poor dat.”
I want to be your friend and tell you to cut it out. No more dressing like a Geisha. No more Egyptian-themed videos. Don’t ever think about hiring a Mariachi band. Just be pretty, White, and sing. That’s it. Before you even ask, yes, you can keep making songs with Juicy J. “Dark Horse” is that knock. But not too much, sis.
So you’re the victim in the shooting death of Jordan Davis? Really? Drop dead. Twice.
The library will resume normal business hours next week. Smile.
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