Flavor Flav and Beyonce: Harbingers of the Apocalypse?

Mental Pestilence

Flavor Flav had a dream.  A dream to remain relevant.  I imagine that when he consulted with others to bring that dream to fruition, he was hazy on the details.  But I imagine that however the conversation began, it ended with, “Oh yeah…and chlamydia, G!  Lots of chlamydia! ”  Hence, “Flavor of Love” was born.  Since it was a success, there were spinoffs, sequels, and copycats galore.  I mean, the shit has gotten so viral that the muhfukkas that were in a spinoff, got their OWN FUCKING SPINOFF?  Another spinoff cat is marrying an Oscar winner.  What part of the game is that?!  (And is the game that rough that Oscar winners are taking the sloppy seconds of someone whose vagina is essentially a living, breathing petri dish?)

It’s really got to stop somewhere.  Seriously.

Emotional War

That damned Beyonce knows how to go to the heart of the bitter woman, doesn’t she?  So first, she had all you chicks telling your men that he shouldn’t think he’s irreplaceable.  Fact check:  Beyonce is rich (and for the record, I’m more than sure that Jay-Z has put her through his own fair share of bullshit).  She has her own shit, so some dude all up in her shit and not breaking bread IS a dime a dozen.   You, my dear, are not Beyonce.  You and money are going half on the bills and the leased Pinto.  Or Nova.  Whatever.  Sit DOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWNNNNNNN.

Now she’s singing “If you liked it, then you should have put a ring on it.”  Now drunken angry bitches the world over are going to be shuffling on the dance floor dedicating this song to some troglodyte that they probably shouldn’t have even brushed up against in a crowded elevator, much less slept with (do people date anymore?), looking a hot ass mess.  Don’t let the smooth taste fool you ladies.  Beyonce doesn’t believe that shit. But she knows (or at least her PEOPLE know) that women are some bitter folks, and love songs ain’t really sellin’.  After she shot that video, she went home…to her man…the one with whom she split from and then returned to.  So before you parade your current temporary fuck in front of your last temporary fuck, you might want to marinate on that.

Thank you,

Mgmt.