You might not know anything about combat sports, but you’re a proper adult. It would be like fighting a child, no?

It’s the kind of thing Drake will have to think about now that it’s been announced that his baby’s mother, who was in adult films, has married some MMA fighter no one ever heard of.

There’s a photo of the guy in the one article I skimmed on this for research purposes. He’s reasonably tough-looking, and he might be in the 99th percentile in both height and weight in the Philippines, or wherever he’s from, but he’s not particularly impressive in absolute terms.

You’d think that Drake’s baby’s mother could marry a more prominent MMA fighter, possibly someone who’s been interviewed on Joe Rogan’s podcast, except that she’s getting on in years and she’s been known to do something strange for some change. Even if she’s somehow managed to avoid contracting VD, her vagine is probably beat to shit, as they say in the auto industry. Her new husband could probably climb all the way inside it, if he had to.

On the other hand, it’s a known fact that Drake can easily be taken out at the knees. He’s injured himself just trying to walk across a stage, as if he were graduating from a white high school. He wasn’t dancing or anything. It was a sobering reminder that he’s only half black, and he seems to have picked up more of the parenting genes than the athletic ones.

His baby’s mother got married to another guy on Father’s Day, which is highly inconsiderate. There’s nothing about her line of work that would have prevented her from getting married on, say, a Tuesday, when people whose jobs encourage, nay, require them to keep their pants on are busy.

It may have even cost them less to get married on a weekday, which raises the question of who exactly was paying for this wedding. Did they spare no expense because Drake was forced to pay for his baby’s mother to marry another guy? That doesn’t even seem like it should be legal. This is not like some hoodrat using a child support payment to purchase a pair of 5411 Reeboks, which can easily fly under the radar on an itemized receipt submitted in family court.

I can’t imagine that the guy paid, because I’ve never heard of him. He’s only had one fight, and it may have been against a “tomato can” intended to bolster his record, like Glass Joe, or whatever his name was, in Mike Tyson’s Punch Out. He’s only 26 years old, raising the question of what he could possibly want with someone who might be nearly as old as I am. Eww! He might need immigration papers to live in Canada. They changed the laws here in the US to get rid of all the asylum seekers. They’re rounding up all the Haitians as we speak.

Drake might need to see about getting full custody of his son, if only to avoid having to fund some other guy’s lifestyle (he’s already gotta fund Sauce Walka’s lifestyle), but also because MMA fighters can’t be trusted. Those guys get kicked in the head and get CTE, one side effect of which is that it makes you commit domestic violence. There was a segment on it on Real Sports with Bryant Gumbel years ago. Former NFL players beat the crap out of their wives. They usually don’t have much money left either, but what are their wives going to do? They’re on the wrong side of 30 and they’ve got a black eye.

It would be tragic to go to Canada to visit your son, maybe on Father’s Day, if he’s available, only to find out that his new father pulled a Chris Benoit on the entire family. Benoit was French Canadian, right? If I were Drake, I’d definitely have my lawyer point that out. But I’m sure he’s already on it. He has the means to secure adequate legal representation. He might even be related to someone.

In fact, I’m not even sure if that’s a thing, like choking yourself with a belt wrapped around a door knob while rubbing one out, to climax especially hard. (Supposedly, that’s how David Carradine went out.) I’d try doing whippits while, erm, pleasuring myself, for the sake of music journalism, but I don’t want to run the risk of dying.

Are there bad whipped cream canisters going around?

I seem to recall, from my misspent youth, that people who are really into doing whippits get canisters that aren’t even used for whipped cream. Or at least not anything you can get at an Aldi’s. Not even in the Aldi Finds aisle. They might be industrial grade, purchased from a restaurant supply store along with those to-go soup containers they drink from on “The Bear.”

You’d think, based on his physique, that Tay Keith would prefer cans of Reddi Wip, provided you’re killing just as many brain cells as the canisters of just the propellant gas, that you might use to clean dust, dead skin particles and wheat-bread crumbs from between the keys on your laptop. Why not get a little free dessert along with it?

His love of whipped cream, which I know you can also get in a coconut flavor, may have contributed to the addiction that ultimately killed him. It would be one thing if it didn’t taste good, but who can say no to a drug that’s also a dessert? Not even Nancy Reagan. Similarly, people who attend the separate AA for people who eat too much (like Lizzo) will sometimes point out that, unlike cocaine, you can’t just stop eating food.

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He’s already, for example, done the thing where he rambles a cappella, ad nauseum, about things Dame Dash said about him on the Temu version of VladTV. What’s he going to do, spit another angry freestyle?

I suggested that he could bring his son out and prove conclusively, once and for all, that the child doesn’t have special needs, to put it euphemistically, thus preventing him from having to stab Kanye West for having the sheer balls to continue to claim that he does, as promised during the aforementioned Roots Picnic freestyle.

How he would go about doing this I’m not sure. He could bring the child on stage, put him at a little table with a bottle of Elmer’s glue and see if he eats it. But the prospect would be entirely too tempting. Imagine the embarrassment, if Sire just couldn’t help himself.

If worse comes to worst, Elmer’s glue is non-toxic. It says so right there on the bottle. Generations of children have put it in their mouths and didn’t die or anything. They may have gone on to a life of crime, but the fact that they chose to eat glue suggests that they would have anyway.

Similarly, I’m not sure what Michelle Obama is going to do about pesky, ongoing rumors that she’s a guy. Obviously, a staged paparazzi upskirt photo while exiting a limousine would be out of the question. It just wouldn't be presidential. Plus, it could lead to further controversy, if it turns out she has an especially large clit. She might be built similar to Diddy.

Just when we thought we were done with such rumors, some MMA fighter no one ever heard of had to bring it up, after prevailing over a black competitor at the UFC event held on the White House lawn the other day to celebrate Trump’s 80th birthday.

I’d suggest that this was the fault of the guy who lost, but that whole thing may have been rigged. Word on the street is that Don Jr and Barron are making a lot of money doing insider trading on Kalshi. That might be why Trump keeps groveling to Iran to get them to open up the Strait of Hormuz and then bombing the shit out of them so that they close it right back up. They might have money riding on this.

Then there’s the fact that Jay-Z has partnered with Target to release an exclusive 30th anniversary vinyl edition of Reasonable Doubt. This is especially bothersome to me, because I might need to cop, depending on what it comes with. Are there any bonus tracks or remixes? Is is a double-gatefold edition with a picture of Foxy Brown’s circa ‘96 cans on the inside? Asking for a friend.

Target came under fire for slashing its DEI initiatives after Trump was reelected in 2024, raising the question of what these initiatives even were. If it was just a matter of no longer getting fried chicken catered on Juneteenth, I can see why people would be upset—especially if Juneteenth happens to fall on a Friday, as it does this year. And it’s warm out? Arguably, it’s racist to even expect black people to show up to work today. The least they could do is feed people.

I wouldn’t attend one of Jay-Z’s Yankee Stadium shows even if I had the means, but more so because it’s a rap concert. Still, it’s disappointing that he would stoop so low as to partner with Target. The NFL thing I could see, because they must have paid him money out the ass, but I don’t even think Target has money like that. They’ve been under boycott for the past couple of years.

It makes you wonder if there’s some other reason he was so willing to come to the table, so to speak. Could there be some truth to the rumor that he was on Epstein’s island in 1996, and that he tag-teamed a girl with Harvey Weinstein? If there is, and if, God forbid, there’s video, we can only hope that he was captured from a flattering angle. I’d hate to see him go out like Diddy.

I feel like you’re less likely to have to part with one of your toes, which I imagine would throw off your balance, subsisting on a steady diet of fried chicken. The chicken itself isn’t bad for you and in fact is often part of diets recommended by people trying to lose weight or become a bodybuilder. Like most of the things currently available in the Aldi Finds aisle, including the candy, it’s got protein in it.

The skin, which is the best part of fried chicken, is no good for you, but you can peel that off, if your body is currently in an unacceptable state. Big Pun was buying KFC by the bucket, peeling the skin off and just eating the meat (nullus), except in the occasional moment of weakness, when he’d also eat the skin, and it was working—until he dropped dead at 28. On that song “It’s So Hard” (ahem), when he reveals that he just lot 100 pounds, that was from eating from fried chicken with the skin removed. It’s a much more effective weight loss strategy than ordering your salad with the dressing on the side (and then, inevitably, asking for another cup of dressing).

Granted, when you weigh 700 lbs, you can lose 100 lbs by using the restroom, especially if you’ve been backed up for a few days—like, if you’ve been traveling.

But I digress.

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At any rate, they’re definitely not 15-year-old boys.

News agencies might be instructing their reporters to refer to black criminals as teens, under the probably correct assumption that white viewers won’t be able to tell the difference in age, so it doesn’t seem like they’re running so many articles about black people committing crime, as if they were Breitbart.

They have to run at least some articles about black people committing crime, because we’re sometimes left with no choice but to break the law, due to systemic racism. Case in point, the unfortunate incident at a high school track meet down in Texas this past spring. But that’s not what we’re here to discuss. As Dr. Umar would say, we must stay focused.

Members of Gen Z are sometimes accused of lying in bed all day playing with their phones, but like the stereotype about black people only committing crime (we have other hobbies), that’s not true. Zoomers are leaving the house, and not just to fetch tendies and see the latest Sonic the Hedgehog movie.

It could be that they’ve somehow managed to reach the end of the TikTok algorithm, which, from what I understand, is something that could happen. You could see all the cans. You’d think that wouldn’t be possible, given the size of China’s population and their world-renown math skills, but here we are.

Here in the STL, teenagers, i.e. actual children, are showing up to places that don’t have enough police officers to arrest everyone and acting a damn fool: getting into fights; firing jerry-rigged automatic weapons into the air; listening to that Sexyy Red song about how a woman’s vagine has to be given space to breathe, which, for what it’s worth, is true. If a woman’s shorts aren’t properly ventilated, she could start growing yeast down there. I’m sure it would smell crazy. That might also be leading to some of the mental health issues women are having, diagnosing themselves with all kinds of fake diseases, like Lyme disease, Chronic Fatigue Syndrome and “Long Covid,” based on things they saw on the aforementioned TikTok.

The other day, a number of local youths took it upon themselves to declare a new holiday, 6-7 Day. I read somewhere, a while back, that the 6-7 meme is over, but it’s possible we just didn’t get the memo here in Missouri. Sometimes trends don’t die out here until years later. People are sometimes surprised to see that we still have chain restaurants that everyone assumes went out of business back in the ‘80s.

The incident happened at a place called Sky Zone, which, from what I understand, is somewhere where you can pay by the hour to use a trampoline, if you can’t afford your own trampoline. If they had such a place when I was a child, back in the dark ages, I definitely wasn’t trying to visit. My neighbors had one that I could use for free whenever I wanted to, and I don’t know that I ever set foot on it. (What I did enjoy, was the recurring segment on the “Man Show,” Hot Girls Jumping on Trampolines. You could never do anything like that today. Remember what they took from you.)

6/7 happened to fall on a Sunday this year, but it doesn’t matter, because no one who would celebrate such a holiday has a job. Youth unemployment is through the roof. Black youth unemployment is actually over 100%. We’re pioneering new, heretofore unimaginable degrees of idleness. It’s also unfortunate that 6/7 falls at a time when school is either out for the summer or black people stopped sending their kids to school anyway, because it’s hot out and therefore school should be out. (Similarly, black people traditionally don’t send our kids back to school until after Labor Day, regardless of when the actual first day is, which has led to funding issues here in Missouri.)

This particular Sky Zone is located in a white area (it’s possible they all are), leading some commentators to wonder how these kids, many of whom aren’t old enough to drive, got there from, erm, other parts of town. One 12-year-old girl who, according to the local TV news, was caught with a butcher knife, said she heard about the event online after several fights broke out and took an Uber there because she wanted to be involved. She brought the knife, she said, for protection. As the aforementioned unfortunate incident at a high school track meet down in Texas this past spring taught us, you can never be too safe at a youth sporting event.

After police from several local jurisdictions showed up, the teens took off on foot. Some of them spilled into other nearby businesses, including a Walmart, an Aldi and something called My Place, which I’m assuming is an IRL manifestation of MySpace. Maybe that guy Tom works there. I’ve been friends with him for decades. It would be nice to catch up. But I digress. Some of these other businesses reported disturbances or damages from the rampaging teens fleeing the police. It didn’t say in the article I skimmed, but I wonder if some of them ransacked the Aldi Finds aisle and ate those delicious chocolate wafer cookies. That’s definitely what I would have done.

On the one hand, you’d hate to show up to an Aldi and find out that they’re out of your favorite snacks, because there was “an incident.” But on the other hand, it’s at least nice to see members of Gen Z leaving the house. For so long, all we’ve heard about them is that they refuse to get out of bed, refuse to procreate and even refuse to drink alcohol, which, have they never tasted alcohol? If they’re ever going to accomplish anything in life, they were going to have to start somewhere. It may as well have been Sky Zone.

He doesn’t give off the vibe of someone who would be in the NBA. He’s light-skinted, which I know is no longer a disqualifying factor, now that the league is gone soft, but he doesn’t even look like he plays sports. He can’t be any taller than I am (which, granted, doesn’t necessarily make him short), and he gives off the general vibe of someone who’s especially good at the video game Smash Bros.

He looks like his job would be bringing new cars up from the lot around back at a Kia dealership, which they can’t let most black guys who work there do, because you have to have a valid, current car insurance policy and no warrants or anything. Or bringing them to a car wash, if a bird shits on them.

You can’t just let that bird shit sit on there, because it’ll ruin the paint job. It’s why many Nissan Altimas are multiple shades of gray, not just the factory spec and any primer that was applied after a fender bender and never covered up.

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He didn’t mention ?uestlove’s physique, but that’s something else he might have considered. When you hang around someone who’s not taking good care of himself, it increases the likelihood that you’ll also start to pack on the pounds—which could be devastating for Jay-Z, as he reaches the natural life expectancy for black men in the US, i.e. 59 years old.

I kid ?uestlove. I’m sure he gets a lot more action than I do.

Jay-Z brings up a good point. Why was he performing at the Roots Picnic?

The last time I heard about the Roots Picnic, the field it was on got flooded and either no one performed or they showed up way late. Based on the lineup, probably everyone who attended had on new white tennis shoes that cost like $200, to stunt on other brokies. No refunds or reimbursement for soiled tennis shoes were offered. The guy working the box office probably absconded with the money in a burlap sack. Because ?uestlove’s podcast doesn’t take live calls, there was no way to “hold him accountable” live on air. Nor would it be possible to get backstage at the “Tonight Show” and accost him while he’s gorging himself on fried chicken, I would imagine.

The only viable solution would be to allow the Roots Picnic to go out of business, like any number of festivals here in my native STL. If they tried to do it again in that same field, or if Wale was headlining, I’m sure that would have been the case—even if Wale agreed to reenact the angry phone call in which he went off on the white guys who used to run Complex (I think it’s all AI-generated now) for leaving him off a list of the best rappers of all time. I’ve long felt that concerts should incorporate Internets memes. If, for example, Sharkeisha was a special guest at a rap concert, that would go a long way toward me considering purchasing a ticket. Only thing is, how would you know it’s the real Sharkeisha and not just some ginormous hoodrat in age-inappropriate outerwear? You’d have to have her physically assault someone, and I don’t know if any venue’s insurance would be willing to cover that.

Jay-Z has his own set of concerts coming up, celebrating the 25th and 30th anniversaries of the Blueprint and the far superior Reasonable Doubt here in a few weeks at Yankee Stadium. What’s he going to do there that he didn’t already do at the Roots Picnic, play the godawful Timbaland-produced song from the Blueprint? Put Dame’s teeth falling out of his mouth on the Jumbotron instead of a photo of Prodigy from Mobb Deep dressed as a child Michael Jackson impersonator? It would be kinda cruel to continue to dis Prodigy, because he’s dead now, and because he was a manlet, which is arguably punishment enough, but you gotta have some sort of visual aid during “Takeover” in a baseball stadium. Will he be mentioning the fact that he once made sweet, passionate love to Nas’ baby’s mother? I’d be upset, if I paid money out the ass to attend and he didn’t bring that up.

He doesn’t have to sweat people opting not to purchase a ticket since he already stepped on his one really good bit, i.e. the a capella freestyle in which he spouts off about whatever’s been bothering him since the last time he did one of these. Tickets sold out more or less immediately. He probably already cashed that check and converted it into crypto in case there really is a video of him “nakey” (but hopefully not as inadequate as Diddy, nullus) in a room with Sly Diggler, Thievius Raccoonus, and 50 Cent’s baby’s mother, or perhaps Cassie. If only Diddy had thought to sign up for that crypto course Jay was offering in the basement of the Marcy Projects (not to be confused with Marcy Playground). He brought the blockchain to the block! Scalpers might be screwed, if they were hoping to snatch up those tickets and charge a premium for them. But at least the Knicks are in the NBA finals. Maybe they can at least break even.

Jay-Z’s only hope for providing a show that’s interesting to people who don’t care to listen to old rap music, which, judging by the response to his set at the Roots Picnic on X f/k/a Twitter, is more people than you’d think, is if Kanye calls his bluff re: threatening to stab anyone who suggests that his son Sir is a little bit slow. He could just bring Sir out and have him do math problems on stage, but I suspect that the child is simply not capable. Plus, black people wouldn’t respect him as much, if they thought he could do math. It could ruin his rap career before it even begins. Kanye, meanwhile, has the opportunity to do the funniest thing possible. He could have someone surreptitiously film the child eating a crayon, or pleasuring himself at an inappropriate moment.

Well, maybe not the latter, but you catch my drift. Jay-Z is gonna have to return to the proverbial drawing board, if he expects OVO Mal and the like to be impressed by whatever he does at Yankee Stadium.

You’d be running up and down hotel hallways mad as hell for no apparent reason, in a bath towel that somehow mercifully stays cinched around your waist, teeing off on Cassie, attempting to punt her head to the moon, if only to relieve some of the pain that results from having such inadequate anatomy. Nullus.

Note that I only watched as much of the Diddy freak-off video as was necessary to confirm that it was him. I didn’t watch the entire 39 minute video, and I certainly didn’t save a copy of it to my phone for posterity as if it were the Ray J-Kim Kardashian sex tape.

I don’t even watch legit pr0n that (ostensibly) costs money, if there’s two guys and one girl in it. That’s one schlong too many. Even one schlong is an unfortunate but necessary presence. Without it, how is the girl supposed to be satisfied, and how am I supposed to experience this vicariously? As people who showed up to the movie Black Panther in a costume are wont to point out, representation matters.

Admittedly, I pulled it up on my phone (no Diddy) the moment I read on X f/k/a Twitter that there was a Diddy sex tape floating around featuring him, a teh ghey pr0n actor and 50 Cent’s baby’s mother, after verifying that the volume was muted and there was no one standing over my shoulder. I still accessed it using the company wifi, but I’ve been using it to check X for years, and hardly anything that crosses my TL these days would be deemed appropriate. The adult content might not even be the worst of it.

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Even if he convinces another 10,000 girls to let him smang it, to use Internets parlance of a bygone era, he might not be able to get a rod. Nullus. He’s in very bad physical condition.

The other day, he was hospitalized after losing a celebrity boxing match to someone who’s not even a celebrity, raising the question of why he would even allow himself to be involved in such a spectacle.

Is he not making as much money from his knockoff Airpods as you’d think? Maybe this is more indicative of my media consumption than anything else, but I feel like they’re being advertised in most YouTube videos these days.

It could be that he uses the kind of affiliate marketing where he’s not paying people to promote his products but he also doesn’t get any money unless people actually make sales, and even then he’d have to fork over a percentage of the profits to some guy who lives in his mom’s basement, who can’t run ads for anything else due to his views on the Covid vaccine.

Not that I would knowingly click on anything like that.

He was in that pr0n film with the mother of Kanye’s children, but I don’t think he gets a royalty payment every time you pull up your old copy to have another look, for nostalgia purposes, especially if it’s the version you could download for free on World Star.

If only there were an app like Spotify where adult content creators could get paid a fraction of a penny each time you watch one of their videos. It would still add up, at least for the most powerfully built creators, because you’d spend so much time watching it.

You’d think people would only watch for as long as it takes to reach the objective, so to speak, and then go do something productive, but some guys on Reddit have pioneered a lifestyle that involves just leaving it on all the time. They build elaborate setups with multiple monitors all running different videos at the same time, like air traffic controllers.

Obviously, that would be difficult to pull off (ahem), if you live with other people. You’d have to establish firm ground rules with your mom about when she’s allowed to enter your lair, known as a goon cave, to tidy up the space or bring you tendies.

She might not like the idea, but if you take over the mortgage, and pay off the massive credit card debt she built up via online shopping, with money you made trading meme stocks on the Robinhood app, she might not have a choice in the matter.

It could be worse. She could be forced to produce her own content, which, given the amount of content the son consumes, could accidentally work its way into his feed. Yikes!

But I digress.

Ray J’s celebrity boxing match was short enough that I was able to watch the whole thing via some podcast, possibly Joe Rogan. It was like one of those Tyson fights back in the late ‘80s that lasted all of about 19 seconds, except neither of the fighters was in very good shape or seemed to know what they were doing.

Was there at least a lengthy list of undercard bouts, possibly featuring female competitors? I feel like this could be a good career path for Sharkeisha, and I wonder what she’s up to these days. Hopefully, she’s not in prison for beating other girls to a bloody pulp. Only problem is, she might have to fight guys, if they can’t talk Remy Ma or someone into fighting (not shooting) her. And a lot of guys might not want to run the risk of getting beat up by a girl and having it captured on film for posterity.

Arguably, that would be even worse than what happened to Ray J. Though what happened to Ray J was pretty bad. Not only did he get the shit kicked out of him, but he looked like crap. I wasn’t sure if I believed that he was in a hospital near death, a while back, with only a mere matter of months left to live, but now I do. Ray J could die at any moment. He looks old and decrepit, even for a guy my age.

It raises the question of what kind of woman would allow him to hit that. A theory: He used to be able to score for free based on his looks and the utter magnitude of his unit, as extolled by T-Pain on the Breakfast Club back in the dark ages, but now he has to pay. He’s spent up all the money he made from his knockoff Airpods and the pr0n film he made with the mother of Kanye’s children, and that’s why he had to do that celebrity boxing match.

He’s gonna have to get in better shape, if only because I don’t think he’s gonna be able to get anyone to pay him for another one of these fights. I know Ozempic is not free, and he must be low on funds, if he’d subject himself to this level of embarrassment, but hopefully they at least paid him enough to get a prescription. He’s already at the hospital. He might need to have a talk with his doctor.

If you’re in your late 40s and you don’t have your own house you can put up, chances are your mom’s house isn’t worth enough to put up the 10%—unless you get busted for fare evasion or some shit. Why waste that phone call?

Also, if you somehow failed to make it to court the day of the trial, through no fault of your own, they might try to take your mother’s house. She’d be forced to do whatever she could in order to be able to sleep indoors, at a time when her only advantage is that she can take out her teeth.

Admittedly, it would be cool if girls of all ages had removable teeth. But let’s not get sidetracked. As Dr. Umar would say, we must stay focused.

You could try to wash that perm out in the toilet, but obviously you’re not going to want to put your head in there. It looks like it could be clean, but only because it’s made of metal and hence doesn’t stain as easily as porcelain. There’s probably all kinds of VD floating around in there.

Your best bet might be to do calisthenics and try to sweat it out. That would have the added benefit of getting you in better physical shape in case you need to fight off an attacker. Of course you’d want to focus on exercises that look masculine. You wouldn’t want to do anything Jane Fonda did in those videos they used to sell back in the ‘80s. That’s just asking to be violated.

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Fortunately for him, his house is big enough that he can take a nice long walk without having to leave the house. The only concern would be if his legs gave out on him while he was too far from his primary living quarters, or a restroom.

If necessary, I’m sure he could have someone come get him, but what if he peed his pants? How embarrassing that would be.

You can’t just pull it out and go on the rug, like that Asian fellow in the Big Lebowski. This is your home. It just wouldn’t be right. Plus, once it dries, you’d never be able to find the spot, to have it cleaned. Maybe a dog could sniff it out.

Having one of your female friends find you in that state is obviously out of the question, even if she relies on you for money. She wouldn’t be able to look at you the same way, and she’d almost certainly blab to the people in her group chat.

There might be randos nearby, squatting in some of the far-flung corners of Ross’ residence. He throws these car shows at his house, I think in part so he can write off his mortgage payments as a business expense (he also keeps farm animals in his yard), and I’ve heard that, weeks later, he’ll find people that just showed up and never left.

In an interview on Fat Joe’s podcast, he claims that as many as 10,000 people attend these events. Like many of the things Fat Joe says, that doesn’t even seem like it would be possible, but what do I know?

If you didn’t catch that episode, I highly recommend it, and not just because they’re apparently not doing the Joe Budden Podcast anymore. Or are they just paywalling all the episodes. I’m not paying $5 a month to listen to a show where they’re not allowed to play the pause game anymore, as a matter of principle, especially when I can hear Cam’ron say all kinds of wild shit for free.

If only OJ Simpson hadn’t up and died shortly after they brought him on as co-host of It Is What It Is. He almost certainly would have merited a spot on Complex’s list of the top media figures in hip-hop, and if he didn’t, he would have cut someone lol jk. You know he didn’t do that shit.

It’s also too bad that Ross’ appearance was apparently filmed before a humorous exchange with the co-hosts of the podcast New Rory & Mal, Mal’s brother Biggs Burke, who was one of the co-founders of Roc-A-Fella Records, and a mysterious figure who must have threatened to kill Ross if he said anything else about Biggs.

I’m assuming Ross’ beef with Rory & Mal is that they’re committed Drake stans, and Ross has beef with Drake for some reason. Mal in particular is the number two Drake stan, behind DJ Akademiks, and he’s coming for that number one spot. He was invited to attend Drake’s album-release party in Canada, and in an hilarious Instagram video that’s been making the rounds, he weirdly erupts in celebratory shouts in Drake’s face as fireworks go off, like the parents of a special needs child who gets a base hit in little league.

Also on Instagram, Ross suggested that Mal, Biggs et al. are bums, and that’s why Biggs had to resort to trying to sell weed, shortly before it was legalized. How tragic, to be the last person caught selling weed. Seemingly within the hour, Ross was back on camera explaining that he’d received a phone call from someone who apparently cares about Biggs quite a bit and asked him not to say anything else about the Roc co-founder. He didn’t say for a fact that his life was threatened, but it was strongly implied.

People are speculating that it was Jay-Z who called (or texted) Ross, but what sense does that make? If I’m worth $2 billion, I’m not calling someone and threatening to kill them. They might be recording. I’d at least have Memphis Bleek do it.

At any rate, this couldn’t have been easy for Ross. It may have been as difficult as that time he had a stroke. I’d be fine with not mentioning Biggs anymore, but I’d hate to have to apologize. I wonder if he at least tried to negotiate that aspect of the agreement. He lives in such a big house, you’d think he’d be a better businessman than that.

Tall enough that, at a glance, you wouldn’t think that they were a child, or a woman, and that they wouldn’t have a problem using things designed to be used by a proper adult.

It could be a real safety issue if, say, a guy who was like 5’4 was somehow allowed to drive a car and ended being beheaded because the top part of the seat belt, that’s designed to go over your shoulder, didn’t fit him properly.

Probably, that issue could be resolved if you sat on one of those old phone books they used to leave on your front porch once a year or so, that you’d use if you needed to have someone who’s obviously on methamphetamine take a look at your A/C.

But what’s the likelihood, really, that someone that height would be willing to sit on a phone book while driving a car? Certainly, they wouldn’t be willing to do that while on a date. A girl would never have sex with him, and who knows what kind of awful things she’d say about him in the group chat she uses to say negative things about men.

Men don’t have such a group chat. If we say things about a woman in a group chat, it’s only positive, not unlike the things we say about women in locker rooms. It might be vulgar, but it’s positive.

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If he tries to claim that they used bots to boost the popularity of “Not Like Us,” to damage his career so that they wouldn’t have to pay as much when it comes time to renew his contract, they can argue that they didn’t: technically, that was a completely different MP3 file, that’s since been deleted.

They probably also reached out to their contacts at Amazon Web Services and/or Palantir to make sure that no cloud versions were retained, including the secret version that they keep regardless of whether or not you pay for hosting, as proven when they turned up a video of Savannah Guthrie’s mother being kidnapped.

It makes you wonder what else they’ve got video of.

It’s irrelevant at this point, provided they don’t have video of Drake and a Stranger Things Season 3-era Millie Bobby Brown, back when it still seemed like she might be hot as an adult (what happened?). And it’s not even clear if that would matter. They’ve already got that video of him making out with an improbably well built high school-age girl that someone seems to post on X f/k/a Twitter whenever his name is brought up. He’d have to pee on her or something.

Otherwise, Drake is back! By the time you’re reading this, Iceman will be available on streaming services, including Tidal (if that’s still a thing), alongside fresh new MP3s of the last few Kendrick albums. I won’t be having a listen today, or at any point in the future, due to time constraints, but I’ll be following the discourse, avidly, via X f/k/a Twitter. Hopefully, I’m not subjected to anything I can’t unsee. I’m still recovering from that time Sexyy Red’s phone was hacked after she endorsed Trump in ‘24.

We know, from a song that was leaked earlier this week, along with information that’s been leaked to Charlamagne and Joe Budden, that Drake intends to resume his beef with Kendrick, as well as Lebron James, who seemed to side with Kendrick and may have attended that Pop Out show where Kendrick performed “Not Like Us” umpteen times. Alas, the song was probably recorded before Lebron and his son were run out of the playoffs on a rail. I imagine that would make for an awkward Father’s Day.

Budden claims to have it on good authority that Drake plans to make fun of him for nearly getting evicted from the building where his podcast is recorded for walking around naked in the hallway. He’s lucky he wasn’t forced to register as a sex offender, though at least he wouldn’t have had to go door-to-door and introduce himself like John Turturro in the Big Lebowski. They already know who he is. They could pick his schlong out of a lineup—and they may have had to.

I’m assuming Budden talked to DJ Akademiks, who was recently declared the top figure in hip-hop media and, by extension, the de facto spokesperson for the black community by Complex, which may have been resurrected precisely for this purpose. Akademiks has a direct line to Drake, as the most committed Drake stan, ahead of Mal from the podcast New Rory and Mal, and may have a red telephone in the room in his mom’s basement from which he livestreams, in case Drake needs him to spread some misinformation, or the police enter his palatial estate in Toronto while he’s in flagrante with a minor.

Charlamagne, meanwhile, may have perused the Drake subreddit. (I might do a cursory image search myself when I get done writing this, just in case.) He doesn’t seem to have any real inside information. Did he side with Kendrick Lamar in the beef? At the very least, he may not have glazed hard enough, in the parlance of our time. He claims that Future will appear on Iceman, which seems like a solid enough bet, given that Future is on most Drake albums. If Charlamagne hadn’t already leaked it, so to speak, I may have put a few dollars on that on one of these prediction markets.

He also claims that Drake is going after DJ Khaled, who’s newly svelte. He must have borrowed some Ozempic from Fat Joe. Hopefully, he doesn’t have a hard time getting on any airplanes. He won’t have to borrow that seat-belt extender anymore, but will they recognize him from the For You tab on Snapchat? They might think he’s with the terrorists, despite his unwillingness to take a stance on Gaza. During the beef, Khaled claimed to have two Drake features on his album, probably songs he had lying around for years, in an attempt to capitalize on the publicity. Drake of course wasn’t about to clear them.

But that was before Drake had his ass handed to him in that beef. It remains to be seen if anyone will give a shit about Iceman. I suspect that it won’t be any good. If there was anything on it along the lines of a “God’s Plan” or a “Hotline Bling,” they would have released it six months ago. The album would already have millions of “equivalent sales” before it was released, due to the way these things are tabulated. At the very least, maybe it’ll result in Kendrick Lamar having a seat for a minute, since apparently there was no way to get rid of him permanently.

Klay Thompson managed to escape the clutches of Megan Thee Stallion without a false accusation or any VD, that I’m aware of.

Stefon Diggs prevailed in court over a personal chef with a BBL who demanded payment for days she didn’t even work, who probably didn’t even know how to cook.

DJ Akademiks has been declared the most important hip-hop journalist by Complex, which is still a thing, 34 slots ahead of Elliott Wilson, whose personal life is in a state of disarray.

Things in general are looking up. And just when it seemed like things couldn’t get any better, they’ve begun removing Kendrick Lamar’s music from streaming services.

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Where are they meeting these girls, outpatient kidney dialysis?

Maybe the harsh light of the courtroom just didn’t do Stefon Diggs’ attempted assailant any favors. She probably shines brightest in the kind of nightclubs, TGI Friday’s locations and what have you frequented by girls who would like nothing more than to meet a professional athlete.

As she appeared on the witness stand, it would have been easy enough for Diggs to explain, Your Honor, I’m a professional athlete. I get paid millions of dollars a year, and even if I didn't, I could probably make sweet, passionate love to attractive women for free, on the basis of my chiseled physique. Nullus. What could I possibly need with this woman?

If only his reputation didn’t proceed him. He’s been linked to Cardi B, whose BBL reportedly smells. And while he was with the “Bodak Yellow” rapper, he was pictured on a boat with several girls who didn’t give the impression of having been on a boat before.

If Diggs’ alleged victim had adequate legal representation (not from any particular background, mind you), they would have had plenty of fodder to cast aspersions on his character and perhaps convince a jury that he didn’t have the sense to not hire a BBL bandit as a personal chef and then go upside her head when she had the utter temerity to demand payment for weeks when she didn’t cook anything.

I’m actually more concerned that there weeks when she did in fact cook. Obviously, that wasn’t the main reason she was hired. Did he feel that that was necessary in order to keep up the charade? The fact that he would eat anything at all by her goes to show how little he values his career. I mean, if he’s willing to put his body at risk like that.

If she was given a budget for groceries, and she could manage to summon the strength of character to not just pocket it, she could probably just get curbside-to-go from the kind of chain restaurants Diggs would likely appreciate. Maybe get him one of those blooming onions from Outback Steakhouse. It seems like it would be good for you, because it’s an onion, but I heard it’s secretly one of the least healthy items on the menu. Regardless, I’m sure he’d appreciate it.

Diggs’ alleged victim is old enough to be able to properly fry some chicken, and to know what kind of cheese (or is it cheeses, plural?) to use in baked macaroni and cheese, but it’s a known fact that only gross Aunt Jemima-looking black women know how to cook. She’s gotta have that unsightly upper arm fat and nevertheless insist on wearing sleeveless shirts.

A theory: Maybe they don’t make shirts with sleeves big enough to accommodate that upper arm fat, due to cultural insensitivity. Little is understood about black women’s bodies, despite them having been studied in order to decode the human genome.

One thing Diggs’ defense might have mentioned, if they didn’t already have that video of his alleged victim doing the Dougie, is black women’s known extreme tolerance of physical pain. If Diggs had in fact gone upside her head, what difference would it have made? It’s not like Diddy teeing off on Cassie, who could have been killed.

Although, maybe said pain tolerance was why she was still able to do the Dougie after being brutally assaulted by an NFL player. Again, this is why it’s important to have adequate legal representation. As it was, it wasn’t clear that Diggs’ alleged victim wasn’t just representing herself, Colin Ferguson style. If it was her lawyer’s idea to attempt to ingratiate herself to the defense by trying to address them by name, she might need to see about having this verdict thrown out. Though presumably, she has only herself to blame for not being able to pronounce the world calculation.

If there’s a lesson to be learned here that’s not grammatical in nature, it’s that you can’t hire just anyone as a personal chef. Year after year, the top NFL prospects are criticized for showing up to draft day with white girls who look like they don’t even know any other black people, but you don’t see those guys in court having to defend themselves from charges like this, now do you, OJ notwithstanding? They’re probably also being forced to eat disgusting food, but what are you gonna do?

It provides them with the opportunity to spend money in places where they don’t live, eat decadent seafood, have degrading sex that doesn’t count towards their “body count” and document the entire process with photographs that can be used to stunt on other women, on social media.

Imagine being the kind of woman who has to keep posting photos of the same vacation, from five years ago, hoping people won’t notice; who’s only ever traveled to cities serviced by Megabus; who doesn’t know the sensation of having sand between your toes, let alone in your snatch.

Are you even a woman, at that point?

Spirit Airlines allowed women who don’t have a lot of money, whose behavior was such that they might never have a lot of money, to travel to places they could only get to by plane, or that would take too long to drive to if, say, they had a court date.

Its name called to mind the Halloween store that sets up shop in places where you used to be able to purchase office supplies, back when a sufficient number of people who live in a certain area worked for a living, but its passengers didn’t seem to mind. It may have even been owned by the same company.

And now it’s gone. Spirit Airlines shut down abruptly this past weekend, like a pizza restaurant run by a drug addict, without so much as flying its flight attendants, or whatever we’re supposed to call them these days, back to their home airports. Hopefully they could afford a JetBlue flight or a Greyhound bus ticket. I shudder to think what they might have to do otherwise.

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It’s getting to the point where it’s too hot to have dinner outdoors with family and friends, let alone put in any effort at work, so the plan was definitely to increase my VladTV consumption. I was about to know so much about various crimes that were committed by rappers no one ever heard of.

I’ve disapproved of much of the food served at black family functions for years now, and the idea that I should have to pay an amount approaching what it would cost to dine at a Chipotle for the privilege, with the consolation that I’m allowed to take as many as six plates with me when I leave, as if I’d want to eat leftovers. Eww!

I was “triggered” when I saw some of the things Megan Thee Stallion was forcing Klay Thompson to eat, and I’m glad he was able to summon the strength from within to extricate himself from that situation, albeit indirectly, by cheating on her with a WNBA player.

Was Klay Thompson really attracted to a WNBA player, or was he just tired of his house smelling vaguely of black hair-care products, fish grease and regret?

It’s the kind of question DJ Vlad could pose to Lil Boosie, if only the latter hadn’t been forced to take his proverbial marbles and go home as the result of a business dispute.

Boosie demanded more money, possibly for upkeep on his vast compound of shoddily-built McMansions and Section 8-looking townhouses for his plentiful offspring. Vlad claims that interest in Boosie’s videos is waning and therefore a pay increase is just not justifiable, what with the state of the economy.

If they can’t get this fertilizer through the Strait of Hormuz soon, imagine what it might cost to eat at Chipotle. You’d have to put it on Klarna and then maybe figure out a way to put the Klarna payment itself on Klarna, Inception style. Guacamole would be out of question for all but the most fortunate amongst us. Barron Trump could have as much as he’d like, but I’m not sure if he’d be interested. No Diddy.

Boosie’s numerous children might not be as intelligent, or as resourceful as he is, Hence having to live in his backyard. So it’s quite possible that there’s already a significant amount of deferred maintenance on those townhouses. Once the kitchen sink starts to back up, due to the aforementioned fish grease, a hoodrat will just stop doing dishes, and that’s when the real fun starts.

Otherwise, why would Lil Boosie stoop so low as to beg DJ Vlad for more money as if he were Mo’Nique down at “the welfare” in the movie Precious, desperately trying to keep her daughter in plus-size leather jackets and fried chicken, pleading her case to a nearly unrecognizable Mariah Carey? This is, after all, the guy who once wrote “Wipe Me Down.”

We can only hope that Boosie figures out a way to build his own sort of ersatz Vlad TV, ideally something I could watch for free in exchange for being subjected to advertising and having my personal information sold off to the highest bidder. Maybe he can take a course offered by the same people who were teaching Marcy project residents to invest in cryptocurrency. He knows a lot of people who commit crime, from his years spent in prison, and would probably be willing to tell on themselves, or could be duped into doing so. It would just be a matter of figuring out the technical aspect of it.

And I’m sure he has other stories along the lines of the one where he went into a prison shower with a Coke sitting near the entrance, not realizing that meant there were two guys in there bufuing. As was the case with that unfortunate incident, I’m sure leaving VladTV will be difficult, if not traumatizing, but it may prove to be a valuable learning experience in the long run.

He spent what seemed like years being led around by his collar by Megan Thee Stallion, allowing her to post him on social media like he was her pet, pretending to like the gross food she cooked for him, buying expensive things for her knowing good and well she had money of her own, until he finally found it within himself to step out on her, albeit with a WNBA player.

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It reportedly ends abruptly in the late ‘80s with Jackson at or near the absolute height of his fame and power. His face was only kinda weird-looking, at that point, and he’d yet to befriend any young boys, that anyone was aware of—if you don’t count that time he showed up to the Grammys with Emmanuel Lewis, which, arguably, you shouldn't.

I’m basing this on what little I can recall from the mid ‘80s, when I was a young child, but “Webster” might be the best TV show of all time, up there with the Sopranos. I tried not to miss an episode. Who wouldn’t want to meet its star? Also, Lewis wasn’t really a baby. He had some sort of disease. Which I’m sure Michael Jackson would have been more than happy to explain in a courtroom, if necessary.

Remember that time he preempted MTV to explain that Feds ran up in his crib, as if he were NBA Young Boy, and took photos of his unit to see if it matched a description given by one of his alleged victims? Jackson settled with the kid’s parents, who were known grifters, for over $20 million in 1993 money (so like a billion dollars). One of the conditions of the settlement is that Jackson’s estate is not allowed to mention the case in a biopic. How forward-thinking of them to include that.

Per an article in the New Yorker the other day, Director Antoine Fuqua, the same guy who did Training Day, shot a dramatic reenactment of the raid that had to be excised when they got rid of the entire second half of the movie and compensated by making some of the performance sequences longer. It’s not stated whether, during the invasive search and photographing of Jackson’s body, they had his nephew, who doesn’t look anything like him, drop trou and declare that King Kong ain’t got shit on him.

It would have been a nice touch, and it would have gone over well with the audience—which I’m assuming is the primary focus at this point, given that critics apparently weren’t impressed. As of the other day, Michael had a Rotten Tomatoes score of 27%, which has gotta put it up there with that Melania Trump movie on Amazon. I’ve since seen reports that it has a Cinema Score (whatever that is) of A-. But they might be basing that on a John Travolta movie from the mid ‘90s with the same name, possibly one where he was playing a developmentally disabled person in an attempt to win an Academy Award.

Presumably, the Cinema Score is based on the opinion of the audience, not the critics. But how many people could have voted, if the movie was only released today? Hmm… It’ll be interesting to see how well this does. Will the black community be out in force to show support for arguably our best musician and, by extension, our approval of his actions? When the film was announced, years ago, there was talk of people attending in full MJ regalia—Jheri curls, sequined gloves and what have you—not unlike when Black Panther came out.

I’d suggest they stage a reenactment of the viral video in which black schoolchildren (and a random white kid) celebrated being given free passes to see Black Panther by climbing up on a table and doing Bobby Shmurda-style sambo dances, but it might still be too soon, even though Michael Jackson has been dead for upwards of 20 years.

D4vd’s ex-girlfriend, Celeste Rivas, wasn’t black per se, but she was in a relationship with a black guy, allegedly, which many would argue made her an honorary black woman.

I’m willing to bestow that status upon anyone from outside the community who’s willing to enter into a relationship with me. But that’s beside the point. Let’s stay focused.

Non-black women who date—and often provide transportation for—black men sometimes take on the characteristics of black women, and, sadly, that may have contributed to Rivas’ demise. (That’s not in any of the reports I skimmed. I'm just speculating.)

It’s alleged that she threatened to serve as a witness in a case against him for engaging in inappropriate, frankly gross, relationships with middle school-age girls. Was she trying to get some money to go see the new K-Pop Demon Hunters?

There may have also been a financial dispute in the death of heretofore obscure influencer Ashlee Jenae, who turned up dead on a trip to Zanzibar with a white guy she was about to get married to.

They’re claiming it was suicide, which is highly suspicious, because black women don’t even commit suicide. They would never want to give society the satisfaction. If they drive into something in a Nissan Altima, it’s because they can’t drive well.

The white guy in question fits right into the age range where he may have gotten the idea to travel to Zanzibar from the song “Fuck Her Gently” by Tenacious D. The FBI definitely needs to check his Spotify, if they didn’t think to do that already.

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