Everything on my precious Internet today was either about middle-aged men and their sloppy bodies fornicating, or middle-aged rappers disgracing themselves. Thus, the trouble: my craving for information often yields upsetting and useless rubbish that I must wade through in order to catch the most valuable of music nerdery, breaks, what's new in the world of bikins, and tomboyish news items. Stay tuned at the end of the post for a shocking twist, however (YouTube is involved, as usual):
1. Russell Simmons uses condoms. With ladies. Big condoms. Because he has a large penis, very large, oh and also he's NOT GAY. This lame story about a "witness" seeing him drop a Trojan Magnum condom outside some lame party that no self-respecting Buddhist would attend is so clearly planted by his lame and lazy PR team with nothing better to do that I resent the implication that I'm an idiot and would fall for such a fabricated tale. Also, I do not appreciate the inevitable visual imagery accompanying this story. A bald yoga enthusiast with a prophylactic on is the opposite of what I want to make love to, even if he is friends with the Dalai Lama. Therefore, not taking into account the Def Jam years, I shall simply say: Russell, EW.
2. Mickey Rourke also does it with ladies--one time, he says, it was 14 ladies in a night, and this piece of news somehow ended up in a major periodical despite the fact that nobody has ever questioned his heterosexuality or his ability to act like an insecure frat boy. So unless it's Rumble-Fish era, young beautiful cigarette-and-novel wielding Mickey Rourke, nerdy and hip-blessed young ladies with blogs in the city of Los Angeles would prefer this information be kept secret. Ew.
3. Rae is giving away his beautiful vocal gifts to his dude Fred Durst, thereby decreasing his market value somewhat. EW. Specifically: Wu ew. However, so that I can sleep at night, I have chosen to believe that this is a well-planned scheme by Rae to decrease our expectations of his lyrical prowess only to have Wu-Massacre released and remind us all of his lyrical prowess later on (while wearing something made of fleece with a Champion logo on it). Like what Tarantino did with Travolta! (minus the Champion gear).
4. D'Angelo likes the ladies, and he likes 'em professional. He likes about $40 worth of professionalism, in fact, which he believes is a fair price for a lady giving him some mouth pleasure followed by tight-lipped (teehee) secrecy on the part of said lady. Cash for oral; nothing wrong with that. I live in a hypocritical/Puritanical/hyper-sexualized country that shames men for paying for professional services like mouth pleasure when, really, the shame is baseless and antiquated and results in a dirty and dangerous underworld that is especially dirty and dangerous for female sex workers. Unfortunately, my ability to contextualize the act does nothing to decrease my Ew response.
Alas,
the power of YouTube is undeniable and redemptive. Upon seeing this, the trailer for every Oscar-winning movie ever, Presented by Semi-Independent Studios, in association with Major Studio Conglomerate Subsidiary, I'm reminded that sometimes we fight but goddammit if I'm not deeply in love with the Internet and don't come back to it at the end of the day.
(“Interest in your bold rejection of social norms as evidenced by your dyed hair” is especially enjoyable. Also, don’t miss the Friendly Black Optimistic Advice.)
via Jezebel.
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