I'm not really one to go in on dudes[||], unless I see them as a walking ass load of jokes (pause?), or a pathetic douche nozzle who's adamantly asking for it. But occasionally, some cats are targets for all the wrong reasons. Today is Bow Wow's turn. Plus, fuck it, he could use the publicity. I guess he knows it, too, & has aligned his "star power" with Chris Brown's. Bow Wow's effervescent mom should've told him that straddling the domestic violence poster boy would help his career about as much as naming his last album after a movie where the highlight was a hot, young Christopher Williams ([||]x1,000) getting stabbed through the hand for being light skinned (I took that as a personal slight, BTW). Oh shit, I forgot Chris Rock smoked crack in that piece! Okay, a movie where the highlight was Chris Rock smoking a rock, word to Alanis Morrissette.
Anyway...I won't say that Bow Weezy is a failure. Hell, I'm almost positive he has a watch, cuff link, or toothbrush that costs more money than I can make in a year. & that includes being a sperm donor and selling my piss to people who know I don't smoke weed anymore. But, as the big homie Ron Mexico says, money does not equate intelligence. Even when your mother's in charge of both. FTR, I liked 'Like Mike', but for the life of me, I can't name one Bow Wow song right now. I can sing Da Brat's 'Funkdafied' word for word, though. Just saying.
For some strange reason, despite missteps, bad fortune, &/or an obvious lack of any "grown folk" life direction, Big Bow Wow is still in the public eye. Blame Twitter if you must, although Myspace & FaceBook couldn't have hurt none. Probably the one aspect of Twitter that I truly can stomach is that it gives niggas something to read, & a reason to write, even if 90% of the contents are so grossly mispelled that it doesn't qualify as 'shorthand'. & judging by the majority of dogs & cats that swear by it, reading & writing really is for dumb people. Get it? & to think, I had no idea that I can see the future, like Nostradamus.
On New Year's Eve, in what I take to be an oddly humorous attempt to garner some fresh-out-the-box, 2010 publicity, Bow Wow used the reliable self-snitch machine, a/k/a Twitter, to let the world know that he's light years beyond the stupidity we came to know & love him for:
"Face numb. im whippin the lambo. Tispy as fuck. Just left @livmiami."
"I'm fucked up!!! Ohhhh damn. Y i drive the lambo. Chris might have to drive after next spot."
Apparently, young 'Shad was tweeting while drunk driving in a Lamborgini, a move that can only be pulled off by the most skilled douche nozzles. Think tying a cherry stem in a knot with your tongue, on a trampoline, while getting your sister's best friend pregnant. Yeah, like that.
&, he spelled "tipsy" wrong.
I'm at a loss for what was more saddening; the fact that he felt he had to advise all 300 of his followers that he's driving the same type of car that Rihanna's face beat up Chris Brown's fists (& career) in, or that he thought somebody actually cared. That's just a sign as to his thought process lacking the maturity needed to be the man he claims to be. Although, I guess hanging out with Omarion would make any dude feel a bit more masculine than they really are. Femininity aside though, as an adored public scapegoat, Shad should've known better. God forbid a drunken, pissed off Chris Brown had've been in the Lambo with him. A couple of flashbacks on Brown's part, & them niggas might have been tweeting between open-handed slaps to each other's mouths.
There's a pretty good chance that the majority of Bow Wow's followers are sexually confused teenage girls & impressionable young men who've been looking for father figures since their father figured it was time to blow town.
[tony's note:^^swish!! 2 points!]
Now matter how you slice it, that shit is just irresponsible. Even though he eventually apologized & deleted the original message, any possible damage was done.
"Apologize for that tweet. it was stupid and immature. not a way i want to kick my #2010 year off. i got too much good stuff lined up. my bad."
"Good stuff lined up..." Yeah, Shawty Redd had good stuff lined up too, if you smell my cologne. Even though it's hard for us adults to fathom, a lot of kids love this clown, despite the fact that he looks like the son that Lil Mama & Raja Rondo never had. Really though, Jermaine Dupri needs to step off that Black, male version of 'The View', & go back to mentoring young, misguided entertainment niggas, like he used to. Although, the last time I heard somebody say the phrase "so, so def" was on a television special about the life of Helen Keller. Actually, I would like to think he's old enough to facilitate his own post-teeny bopper career, especially if he's old enough to drive small fortunates while intoxicated. To let a virtual community know you're commiting a felony in real-time takes balls the size of dinner plates, or the same amount of stupidity that Tiger Woods had as he left his name on jump-off message centers. Either way, if it was attention he wanted, now he's got it.
Maybe he has a song coming out. Yeah, & it doesn't take a rocket scientist to guess who'll be doing the hook. No pun intended. Chris Brown & Bow Wow are easily the OJ Simpson & Al Cowlins of the Hip Pop universe. Damn, so many parallels to illustrate there that I'd rather just leave it up to you.
Consider it homework.
Showing posts with label twitter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label twitter. Show all posts
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Friday, September 25, 2009
Twitter Gonna Kill Somebody!
This whole insta-communication thing has always been kind of suspect to me. Gone are the days of not answering your phone or ignoring contact with people, regardless how irritating they may be. Case in point, there's at least 5 ways to get in touch with me, if anyone really wanted to reach me. Oddly enough, I don't even have a house phone & know very few people under the age of 40 that do. My little brother hipped me to that "on-the-go" way of life some years back. I thought it was the dumbest idea ever. The only people who shouldn't have house phones are those without houses. Eventually though, my wife & I succumbed, & realized we eliminated a bill. But the trade-off for one less bill isn't necessarily worth being available for comment at all times of the day.
Which leads my to my next point. Say, you did something to me that warranted some immediate attention paying. First, I'll call you. If that doesn't take, I'll text you. Still no dice? I'll send a polite email, & include the fact that I've tried reaching you to no avail. If need be the big guns come out, per se. I'm hitting myspace & FaceBook with an ass load of things to say, knowing damn well that you won't be the only one to read them. This would be the social networking equivalent of DEFCON 3. Privacy is no more an option at this point, seeing as though I've decided to take it to the "streets". My last, & most audacious resort would be to hit you on the Twitter, for the world to see. Now, we're at DEFCON 4, & with a limited amount of shoving, I could make you a trend. Yeah, a trend. Thats when the users make fun of a person/place/thing even if they have no idea why, it just becomes fun & cool to the popular & anonymous alike. Papoose, Bow Wow & Ace Hood have all allen victims of said trending, & it wasn't pretty.
[tony's note: seem as if rapper fabolous has become the spokesperson for dissing other rappers on twitter. i called it a couple weeks back on "what happens in las vegas, goes on twitter". just want my credit....]
There's an incident right now involving blogger Combat Jack (www.daily-math.com) & radio personality Peter Rosenberg of Hot 97fm (the place where Hip Hop lives). Jack took sourly to some thing's Rosenberg said during the morning talk show, & decided to give him a piece of his mind via Twitter. & to think, 10 years ago, you'd have to wait until you caught a nigga slipping at the grocery store. Whatever Jack said was far from insulting, or even insinuating, he merely wanted to make a point in regards to Quadaffi's speech at the UN meeting. Rosenberg, obviously a man of many words, hence his profession, tweeted back to Combat Jack:
"Ill slap the shit out of you in front of ur kids..."
Now, any other interaction between the two is irrelevant. At this juncture, Rosenberg had crossed the sand line Combat drew in the proverbial sand. [tony's note: proverbial is like my most favorite word ever.] Not only did this whole episode not begin with any threatening language or chance for violence, but you don't wave threats in front of a (Black) man, AND involve his children without expecting quite the backlash. Keep in mind, a Black man who does raise his kids is naturally going to be extra territorial over them. & the fact that it was on Twitter, where possibly thousands witnessed the occurrence, only fuels the fires.
Under normal circumstances, Jack, a New Yorker, would have driven to Rosenberg's place of business, also in New York, & the two could've swiftly gotten to the bottom of such blatant douche nozzleness. What made this not "normal", was the fact that Combat Jack is a lawyer, & Rosenberg knows that. Had Jack been in a different place in life, God only knows what may have happened. Well, I have an idea & it would've most likely involved jail time for one, hospital time for the other.
These days, cats like Fabolous go around teasing lesser familiar rappers, breathing new life into the phrase "cyber-bully". Who's to say that one of these not-as-successful rappers decides to make a name for themselves? Back in the days, if the beef were that insistent, one would go to the nearest venue the other was performing at, wait around until the show was over & confront them. No emotional outburst distributed throughout a social network. If "fuck you" is what you wanted to say, you'd first have to possess the balls to say it to someone's face. I'll admit that, as a whole, we've become more aggressive & less confrontational, society-wise. All you need is an ISP address & you can go around spewing as much distaste as your hateful heart desires.
Remember that girl that everyone teased & bullied & humiliated online, who eventually brokedown & committed suicide? Yeah, something like that, but only murder.
Eventually, all that will change though because, & quote me, Twitter's gonna get somebody killed.
**Take a moment & pray for my big homie Dallas Penn. & yourselves, while you're at it.**
Which leads my to my next point. Say, you did something to me that warranted some immediate attention paying. First, I'll call you. If that doesn't take, I'll text you. Still no dice? I'll send a polite email, & include the fact that I've tried reaching you to no avail. If need be the big guns come out, per se. I'm hitting myspace & FaceBook with an ass load of things to say, knowing damn well that you won't be the only one to read them. This would be the social networking equivalent of DEFCON 3. Privacy is no more an option at this point, seeing as though I've decided to take it to the "streets". My last, & most audacious resort would be to hit you on the Twitter, for the world to see. Now, we're at DEFCON 4, & with a limited amount of shoving, I could make you a trend. Yeah, a trend. Thats when the users make fun of a person/place/thing even if they have no idea why, it just becomes fun & cool to the popular & anonymous alike. Papoose, Bow Wow & Ace Hood have all allen victims of said trending, & it wasn't pretty.
[tony's note: seem as if rapper fabolous has become the spokesperson for dissing other rappers on twitter. i called it a couple weeks back on "what happens in las vegas, goes on twitter". just want my credit....]
There's an incident right now involving blogger Combat Jack (www.daily-math.com) & radio personality Peter Rosenberg of Hot 97fm (the place where Hip Hop lives). Jack took sourly to some thing's Rosenberg said during the morning talk show, & decided to give him a piece of his mind via Twitter. & to think, 10 years ago, you'd have to wait until you caught a nigga slipping at the grocery store. Whatever Jack said was far from insulting, or even insinuating, he merely wanted to make a point in regards to Quadaffi's speech at the UN meeting. Rosenberg, obviously a man of many words, hence his profession, tweeted back to Combat Jack:
"Ill slap the shit out of you in front of ur kids..."
Now, any other interaction between the two is irrelevant. At this juncture, Rosenberg had crossed the sand line Combat drew in the proverbial sand. [tony's note: proverbial is like my most favorite word ever.] Not only did this whole episode not begin with any threatening language or chance for violence, but you don't wave threats in front of a (Black) man, AND involve his children without expecting quite the backlash. Keep in mind, a Black man who does raise his kids is naturally going to be extra territorial over them. & the fact that it was on Twitter, where possibly thousands witnessed the occurrence, only fuels the fires.
Under normal circumstances, Jack, a New Yorker, would have driven to Rosenberg's place of business, also in New York, & the two could've swiftly gotten to the bottom of such blatant douche nozzleness. What made this not "normal", was the fact that Combat Jack is a lawyer, & Rosenberg knows that. Had Jack been in a different place in life, God only knows what may have happened. Well, I have an idea & it would've most likely involved jail time for one, hospital time for the other.
These days, cats like Fabolous go around teasing lesser familiar rappers, breathing new life into the phrase "cyber-bully". Who's to say that one of these not-as-successful rappers decides to make a name for themselves? Back in the days, if the beef were that insistent, one would go to the nearest venue the other was performing at, wait around until the show was over & confront them. No emotional outburst distributed throughout a social network. If "fuck you" is what you wanted to say, you'd first have to possess the balls to say it to someone's face. I'll admit that, as a whole, we've become more aggressive & less confrontational, society-wise. All you need is an ISP address & you can go around spewing as much distaste as your hateful heart desires.
Remember that girl that everyone teased & bullied & humiliated online, who eventually brokedown & committed suicide? Yeah, something like that, but only murder.
Eventually, all that will change though because, & quote me, Twitter's gonna get somebody killed.
**Take a moment & pray for my big homie Dallas Penn. & yourselves, while you're at it.**
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
What Happens In Las Vegas, Goes On Twitter.
“Yo I'm at [club] Rehab in Vegas.. T-Pain is DJ'ing. Sayin Fuck Jay Z, he old, blah blah.. guess its backlash from D.O.A..”-Fabolous via Twitter, 9/05
Damn. Fabolous is in this club last Saturday, undoubtedly surrounded by all types of females, even a choice selection of guys if he likes sausage with his eggs, & THIS is what he chooses to lay on his followers? I'm not the most "out-there" dude, & I'm not all in the streets with mine, but if I were, I don't think I'd be reporting on the movements &/or goings-on of another guy with my transmitter. I'd probably be sneaking up-skit pictures & posting them on Myspace & Facebook. Like a real man.
This smells like Perez Hilton to me. Not shis perfume, but shis feminine antics that always land shim in the middle of pointless bullshit, just to stay in people's mouths (no pun intended)(okay, maybe a little bit).
Anybody who hasn't been under a rock for the last 3 or so years knows about Twitter. If you have been sleeping beneath a boulder, It's like a global text message. However pointless, it's extremely popular among folks who swear that they are so important that their every thought is worth yelling off of the proverbial mountain top. It's also a great way to notify strangers of your whereabouts, but that's for another day.
“Yo the DJ is doin a Jay-Z set.. D.O.A., kingdom come, run this town, heart of the city, h to the izzo, amillie free..T-Pain somewhere in here,”-Fabolous via Twitter, 9/05
Was Fabolous purposely twitter-telling on T-Pain? I would say no, because this wasn't a formal, one-on-one cell phone call to Jay-Z's private steam room. This was more like the equivalent of one running to a group of people during breaktime & saying "Owwwwww, guess what y'all? Nevermind, don't guess, I'll tell you!". So, in essence, what he did do was dry-snitch the situation, like any good gossiper could. Except, unlike the handful of morons that would normally be gathered around a water cooler or lunch table, he digitally broadcasted it to the hundreds of people who consider Fab a celebrity. Who, in turn, will pass it on to the thousands of people who consider Jay-Z a god.
At the most, Jay-Z will dismiss T-Pain's remarks as jealous flails & shots at his upcoming album for publicity's sake. But, if Jay's not even responding to The Game, who's been calling him an "old faggot" on 3 different continents so far, then I highly doubt he'll go in on Robot Man. Honestly, I wouldn't mind seeing Jigga slap that porch-monkey ass top hat off of those dingy dreadlocks, but for the record, T-Pain looks like he would beat Jay up. Tae-bo or none. & at the least, Fabolous was attempting to get a few more record sales before the public forgets his last record ever came out. Personally, I would've gone a more masculine route (like jumping on stage & yelling "Fuck you T-Punk, nigga this Brooklyn!!), as opposed to spreading rumors, but Loso stopped being "gangsta" in 2003. &, sometimes I forget that this is the era of the emo-thug; bad attitudes & testosterone have been replaced with denim leatards & livestreamed slap-boxing matches. If I'm not mistaken, Fab was wearing skinny jeans way before your favorite rapper was. He's trendy like that.
I can't see the future, but I expect very soon that entertainers will begin moonlighting as celebrity gossip bloggers. How much more up-close & personal can one get to Mariah Carey than in the bathroom stall next to her? & there's literally hundreds of people who would love to know how stank Kristoff St. John's farts are. I don't know any personally, but I'm not a people person to begin with, so that's not saying much. TMZ created a whole other culture with their kamikazee paparazzi, so it's only right that it's now taken to the next level. Twitter is Pandora's Box, folks. If you don't get that, read a book.
Celebrity-on-celebrity twitter-telling is on the move, y'all. Famous people officially have no one left to trust.
Damn. Fabolous is in this club last Saturday, undoubtedly surrounded by all types of females, even a choice selection of guys if he likes sausage with his eggs, & THIS is what he chooses to lay on his followers? I'm not the most "out-there" dude, & I'm not all in the streets with mine, but if I were, I don't think I'd be reporting on the movements &/or goings-on of another guy with my transmitter. I'd probably be sneaking up-skit pictures & posting them on Myspace & Facebook. Like a real man.
This smells like Perez Hilton to me. Not shis perfume, but shis feminine antics that always land shim in the middle of pointless bullshit, just to stay in people's mouths (no pun intended)(okay, maybe a little bit).
Anybody who hasn't been under a rock for the last 3 or so years knows about Twitter. If you have been sleeping beneath a boulder, It's like a global text message. However pointless, it's extremely popular among folks who swear that they are so important that their every thought is worth yelling off of the proverbial mountain top. It's also a great way to notify strangers of your whereabouts, but that's for another day.
“Yo the DJ is doin a Jay-Z set.. D.O.A., kingdom come, run this town, heart of the city, h to the izzo, amillie free..T-Pain somewhere in here,”-Fabolous via Twitter, 9/05
Was Fabolous purposely twitter-telling on T-Pain? I would say no, because this wasn't a formal, one-on-one cell phone call to Jay-Z's private steam room. This was more like the equivalent of one running to a group of people during breaktime & saying "Owwwwww, guess what y'all? Nevermind, don't guess, I'll tell you!". So, in essence, what he did do was dry-snitch the situation, like any good gossiper could. Except, unlike the handful of morons that would normally be gathered around a water cooler or lunch table, he digitally broadcasted it to the hundreds of people who consider Fab a celebrity. Who, in turn, will pass it on to the thousands of people who consider Jay-Z a god.
At the most, Jay-Z will dismiss T-Pain's remarks as jealous flails & shots at his upcoming album for publicity's sake. But, if Jay's not even responding to The Game, who's been calling him an "old faggot" on 3 different continents so far, then I highly doubt he'll go in on Robot Man. Honestly, I wouldn't mind seeing Jigga slap that porch-monkey ass top hat off of those dingy dreadlocks, but for the record, T-Pain looks like he would beat Jay up. Tae-bo or none. & at the least, Fabolous was attempting to get a few more record sales before the public forgets his last record ever came out. Personally, I would've gone a more masculine route (like jumping on stage & yelling "Fuck you T-Punk, nigga this Brooklyn!!), as opposed to spreading rumors, but Loso stopped being "gangsta" in 2003. &, sometimes I forget that this is the era of the emo-thug; bad attitudes & testosterone have been replaced with denim leatards & livestreamed slap-boxing matches. If I'm not mistaken, Fab was wearing skinny jeans way before your favorite rapper was. He's trendy like that.
I can't see the future, but I expect very soon that entertainers will begin moonlighting as celebrity gossip bloggers. How much more up-close & personal can one get to Mariah Carey than in the bathroom stall next to her? & there's literally hundreds of people who would love to know how stank Kristoff St. John's farts are. I don't know any personally, but I'm not a people person to begin with, so that's not saying much. TMZ created a whole other culture with their kamikazee paparazzi, so it's only right that it's now taken to the next level. Twitter is Pandora's Box, folks. If you don't get that, read a book.
Celebrity-on-celebrity twitter-telling is on the move, y'all. Famous people officially have no one left to trust.
Monday, June 1, 2009
HATE!: The American Pastime
I dislike Sean John Combs as much as the next guy.
Maybe a little less than Shyne, & a little more than Andre Harrell, nevertheless, mine runs pretty deep.
Would I go as far as to say I "hate" him? Not at all. I've never met him, & outside of wasting some precious life moments of mine with his horrid lyrics, he's never done anything to me personally.
But, from what I gathered, quite a few people Hate Diddy. I'm not sure why, because in order for me to prescribe someone such a strong emotion, I'd have to love them first. He's by no means my favorite artist, or fashion designer, & for that matter, his cologne isn't even all that good, & I regard him as one of the greatest Douche Nozzles of my generation, but hate isn't a word I'd associate him with.
However, his twitter phenomena has become an "I Hate Diddy" campaign. What he once modestly viewed as adoring fans & followers, have become cyber-stalkers, eThugs & mad rappers, hell bent on hurting the man's million-dollar feelings. Puh-lease. We're talking about the one-time spokesperson for Proactive. He let the world see razor bumps, & bad skin from Cassie's P.O.V. We're talking about a guy who publicly admitted he doesn't "write rhymes, [he] writes checks". We're talking about a guy who has dozens of songs aimed at his humility, & even a couple of books. I'm positive this isn't his first experience with "no love", but this one's gotten him riled up something fierce. So much so that he launched his own anti-movement, entitled "Give A Hater A Hug", as if he's the bigger man. Which, I guess is a good idea, although I doubt that physical contact will persuade any detractors to think otherwise. Maybe if he called it "Give A Hater $100", then folks would have a reason to stall him out. Spread the love around, per se.
Now, only followers that signed on as friends (or however twitting works) can have mutual correspondence with Puff. As if.Here's a little tip [||]; sign on as a friend/follower, then you can get back to the ridicule session. But, don't tell anybody. It's our secret.
A logical mind has to wonder, sometimes at least, what makes a "hater" tick? Any of us who frequent cyberspace knows of the abundance of such a creature. They're in every chat room, on all the message boards, littering the pages with endless insults, unnecessary comments & pointless banter in reference to their target's personal lives. Is it because, deep down, they admire the obvious success? If the "hater" could trade places with the "hatee", he would do so in a second. Yet, he tears down their God-given talent at every chance, & the more their target is defended by the "public", the more the jealously engulfs them. It's funny. I'm a fan of some artist's now just because it ruins the Hater's Day parade(s) for other people. Pissing in their cereal, if you will.
To not like an artist for their skill, or lack there of, is completely understandable, but to start playing the dozens with a guy who's way too busy to respond to you is idiotic. Almost like arguing with an imaginary friend for the whole world to see (or in this case, read). Maybe it makes them feel like they're part of the celebrity's lives, like one of their anonymous darts will bother said artist enough that they'll get a shout out on the album. Yeah, I bet Puffy's itching to tell "MochaMacMan666" why he chooses to rap about money, cars & gratuitous sex.
My wife & I went out last weekend with a few of her friends. They all got dolled up to go to this party, but my wife was the only one with an escort. She looked pretty good, & the other girls looked nice as well, but her & I were matching & we dressed like there was a point to be proved. That following Monday, on their way to work, one of the girls who were with us made it a point to mention, out of the clear blue, that she didn't like my wife's dress that she wore. No Dice. My wife was the best dressed (no favoritism) lady in the room. This chick, on the other hand, was rocking one of those Saturday night club/Sunday morning church joints. "Hope I get some tonight"-wear. My wife just shrugged it off & went on about her day. I knew the broad was mad that, not only was she alone before we went, but she danced alone (numerous times), & ended up buying herself a drink before going home. Alone. That's hate.
So, be warned peeps. They're even out to get us "normal" folks. Haterade was a popular drink, & it still is.
Maybe a little less than Shyne, & a little more than Andre Harrell, nevertheless, mine runs pretty deep.
Would I go as far as to say I "hate" him? Not at all. I've never met him, & outside of wasting some precious life moments of mine with his horrid lyrics, he's never done anything to me personally.
But, from what I gathered, quite a few people Hate Diddy. I'm not sure why, because in order for me to prescribe someone such a strong emotion, I'd have to love them first. He's by no means my favorite artist, or fashion designer, & for that matter, his cologne isn't even all that good, & I regard him as one of the greatest Douche Nozzles of my generation, but hate isn't a word I'd associate him with.
However, his twitter phenomena has become an "I Hate Diddy" campaign. What he once modestly viewed as adoring fans & followers, have become cyber-stalkers, eThugs & mad rappers, hell bent on hurting the man's million-dollar feelings. Puh-lease. We're talking about the one-time spokesperson for Proactive. He let the world see razor bumps, & bad skin from Cassie's P.O.V. We're talking about a guy who publicly admitted he doesn't "write rhymes, [he] writes checks". We're talking about a guy who has dozens of songs aimed at his humility, & even a couple of books. I'm positive this isn't his first experience with "no love", but this one's gotten him riled up something fierce. So much so that he launched his own anti-movement, entitled "Give A Hater A Hug", as if he's the bigger man. Which, I guess is a good idea, although I doubt that physical contact will persuade any detractors to think otherwise. Maybe if he called it "Give A Hater $100", then folks would have a reason to stall him out. Spread the love around, per se.
Now, only followers that signed on as friends (or however twitting works) can have mutual correspondence with Puff. As if.Here's a little tip [||]; sign on as a friend/follower, then you can get back to the ridicule session. But, don't tell anybody. It's our secret.
A logical mind has to wonder, sometimes at least, what makes a "hater" tick? Any of us who frequent cyberspace knows of the abundance of such a creature. They're in every chat room, on all the message boards, littering the pages with endless insults, unnecessary comments & pointless banter in reference to their target's personal lives. Is it because, deep down, they admire the obvious success? If the "hater" could trade places with the "hatee", he would do so in a second. Yet, he tears down their God-given talent at every chance, & the more their target is defended by the "public", the more the jealously engulfs them. It's funny. I'm a fan of some artist's now just because it ruins the Hater's Day parade(s) for other people. Pissing in their cereal, if you will.
To not like an artist for their skill, or lack there of, is completely understandable, but to start playing the dozens with a guy who's way too busy to respond to you is idiotic. Almost like arguing with an imaginary friend for the whole world to see (or in this case, read). Maybe it makes them feel like they're part of the celebrity's lives, like one of their anonymous darts will bother said artist enough that they'll get a shout out on the album. Yeah, I bet Puffy's itching to tell "MochaMacMan666" why he chooses to rap about money, cars & gratuitous sex.
My wife & I went out last weekend with a few of her friends. They all got dolled up to go to this party, but my wife was the only one with an escort. She looked pretty good, & the other girls looked nice as well, but her & I were matching & we dressed like there was a point to be proved. That following Monday, on their way to work, one of the girls who were with us made it a point to mention, out of the clear blue, that she didn't like my wife's dress that she wore. No Dice. My wife was the best dressed (no favoritism) lady in the room. This chick, on the other hand, was rocking one of those Saturday night club/Sunday morning church joints. "Hope I get some tonight"-wear. My wife just shrugged it off & went on about her day. I knew the broad was mad that, not only was she alone before we went, but she danced alone (numerous times), & ended up buying herself a drink before going home. Alone. That's hate.
So, be warned peeps. They're even out to get us "normal" folks. Haterade was a popular drink, & it still is.
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