NEGRO PLEASE: Diddy’s Orange Alert
[Editor’s Note: “Blogger’s Note” has been taken over by Ron Mexico until further notice]
Oh, how I miss Puff Daddy’s affinity for the dramatic. This Cloverfield shit here proudly displays the acting ability that got Diddy bumped from Any Given Sunday in favor of Jamie Foxx.
I’ve never seen someone have so much trouble reading a prompter, especially when they wrote the shit themselves on Microsoft Word.
This is the level of thespian prowess that kept A Raisin In The Sun going on Broadway. I remember being able to hear Paul Robeson jostle in his grave when it was announced that Puffy would be playing Walter Lee Younger.
It sounded like bittersweet Chocolate Rain… on a Showboat.
Puff must have gotten entirely too high watching X-Men or some shit. Maybe it was a zombie movie. Some crazy combination of chronic and Kennedy Fried Chicken got ol’ Dolphin Teeth over here tombout vaccines and infections.
I’m sure when you hit the free clinic for your bitchassness treatment you’ll find Puffy in Dr. Carter’s office with his pants at his ankles… just like Cassie did.
“You gotta get that antidote, girl. Take that. It’ll help your singing voice too. I promise.”
While we’re quoting Diddy scripture, could someone help me with this one?
“I’m always a pillar of confidence when it comes to bitchassness.” –Diddy, Diddy Blog #10
What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Is Puffy supposed to be like a bitchassness consultant? Was that actually written on his screen? Isn’t Microsoft Word supposed to underline something and send a paper clip nigga to come tap you on the shoulder when you write sentences like that?
Way to bring it back to that good-old 97 rhetoric and propaganda. If you can’t excavate Biggie (no matter who plays him in the movie) then try to recapture the glory however you can.
Before setting his camera to record, Puff should just sing “Playa Hater” and “Jealous Guy” to himself in the mirror. I could imagine that being therapeutic and effective enough to quell his urge to make an ass of himself on EweToube.
I never thought people were supposed to be terrified of bitchassness. I know I’ve never been afraid of the shit. What’s the only thing more bitchass than being bitchass? Spending all your time worrying about bitchassness that never really affects thorough niggas.
It’s really easy to point the finger at imaginary, theoretical bitchassness when a culprit is necessary for one’s own shortcomings. Remember that, children.
Damn, the parallel between Puffy and George W. Bush is kinda staggering.
Fuck it. I have no problem asking flat-out. Why did Puff knock down the towers? I know why! It’s much easier to control the masses when they’re thrown into a bitchassness-induced state of chaos.
Instead of the bitchasses he can’t escape in his dreams, Diddy need be worried about April 15th er, umm–28 Days Later or whatever the fuck he named that fake-ass 112 he just put together.
This is all moot if he said “prey” instead of “pray,” which would make all the sense in the world.
Questions? Comments? Requests? Still keep a nightlight because you’re afraid of the Bitchassness Monster? firstname.lastname@example.org
Let us prey. Then let Uncle Ron spit a line that’ll tuck your ass in. No nullus.