Flavor Flav: "Under One Roof" trailer

I may have finally grown disenchanted enough with the "Flavor of Love" franchise to abstain from watching it even for the sake of recapping it. But lightning strike my black ass if I ain't interested than a motherfucker in this: Always great when we get a reminder that MY9 still got some UPN in 'em. The network has long since lost me in the sea of supernatural privileged white bitches with problems. Actually, they lost me at "Homeboys in Outer Space." But respect to the network staying loyal to Flex and finally breaking him off with "One on One." I'll bet that kid likes "Snakes on a Plane." He looks like Kel's hopelessly gay little brother they never talk about. On the subject of siblings ne'er spoken of and network loyalty to Flex, pay special attention when homie says "the show went a different direction." Translation: Flex caught the Judy Winslow, son. Sorry. "One on One's" the best segue I got to "Under One Roof" straight-man, Kelly Perrine. Okay, I'm kidding. It's the only segue I got to Kelly Perrine. Sadly enough, this time around Kelly sounds like he's warning unsuspecting white people of imminent danger instead of pitching an exciting new sitcom. Whoever wrote/developed/pitched this shit has to feel what Damon Wayans was feeling halfway through "Bamboozled." Kadeem Hardison don't feel shit but happy as hell that he came up on some work. "I can't believe we got Kadeem Hardison!" Crackheads tend to overvalue shit (i.e.: the PS3 you bought from one for $20). I guess Flavor can't tell, but Kadeem lookin hurt. Never more than now has it been so painfully obvious how badly this nigga fucked up lettin Chante Moore go to that light-skinned nigga Kenny Lattimore. I guess if they worked with light-skinned Ron from "A Different World," Dwayne Wayne's number is in that Rolodex somewhere. So UPN/my9 somehow couldn't find a way to squeese Marques Houston into this? Shit. That preemptively murders my hope to find Chris Brown toe-wopping about in an episode somewhere along the line. Pierre Lecroix be damned. Let me get this straight. We've got Flavor Flav as an ex-con. Dig it. Kelly Perinne is the tight-ass, smarty-art nigga. Dig it. What the fuck is Dwaaaaaayne supposed to be? The past-his-prime intramural athlete? The loveable and witty strip mall pimp? Michael Bivins? I know I ain't missin the first episode of this shit. I don't know about anything past that. However, I do know that success or not, the network's gonna suck the life out of Flavor Flav and leave him in the gutter like a spent condom the same way they did Flex.

I Love New York 2: The Stooch In Review - "The Final Four"

It's only fair that we give proper shine to the four finalists of "I Love Flavor Flav's Leftovers 2." (In order of departure) The Entertainer: Frankie the Entertainer really showed his garlic knots before his time was up. He held the Guido back for as long as he could but the arrival of his parents was the marinara on the fettuccine. His pops was cool; far cooler than I'd expect from, you know... Eye-talian guys. I saw "A Bronx Tale." I could only imagine what kind of parmagiana Tony Ravioli would make out of his talking eggplant queen. ManBearPig may have been right on her assessment of Frankie as unstable, volatile and threatening, but she had no reason to foul on his parents the way she did. Susta Patterson ultimately said "Fuck you, Frankie and the Olive Garden you came from." What ultimately did him in was that he worked for fucking UPS and lived with his parents. There wasn't any amount of toe-sucking that was gonna make up for the fact that he was some kind of triclops gnocchi monster trapped in the basement. With that said, New York and her mother set black women back farther than the "Tip Drill" video by lambasting The Entertainer's parents with a unified front of indiscriminately disrespectful behavior. They were one head short of Ugly Bitch Cerberus. Throw Dionne Warwick up there and you got three heads. I'm sorry. New York is gonna look like Danny Glover when she's her mother's age. I don't know if there was some Reparations sentiment behind that shit or what. Them bitches acted like they found the family that used to own them back in the 1700s. I thought it was pretty cold to make the parents stick around for the elimination to hear those terrible things from that delusional, battered stripper. I never noticed his third eye until the clip show. Then I became more frightened than Sammy Davis, jr. walking through his neighborhood without Sinatra and Dean-o. Ron Mexico enters your establishment through the fucking front door, you hear me? Punk: I guess Punk leaving second-to-last afforded him the ability to do what he really wanted to do with his lawyerin' degree and frosted-tip S-Curl. But really, Punk. What the fuck, holmes? What, you on SMACK DVD as a manwhore for hire, David Otunga? Whose dick did you plan to suck in that limo? "Look at me! I'm taking Moet to the head! I just bagged Buckeey. That wasn't hard at all." I wonder who everyone at Ciara's party thought this man was. This party wasn't long after the show first aired, right? Eh, I'm sure no one could tell. Punk probably ended his night doing a line off Ne-Yo's dick. I ain't never seen so many shots of a nigga dancing by himself with a bottle of Mo'. Before we all found out he was a party boy, Punk seemed like the safest, most responsible option of all of the guys when he wasn't a greasy cocaine gorilla. Unfortunately, Tiffany doesn't want anything to do with anything rational, responsible or safe. She bought the Spalding Never-Flat titties. Her nipples twist out to little silicone pumps. It's truly horrific. Speaking of nipple twisting... --So his mother's an old Jewish lady? I'm not seeing the resemblance. I see it between the mother and his sister because they look like the same type of touchdown. That would mean that she did, in fact, climb that gefilte fish up onto the African soupbone at some point... which is hysterical. His name is Otunga. That sounds pretty African. He's light-skinned enough to have come from a white woman via natural birth, though. I'm guessing he's the type of privileged African halfzie that could go to a good enough school to do the lawyer thing. ...or they're just adopted. P.S.: You should have let that giant deadly dodo bird rip New York's intestines out. Buddha: Buddha's dad was pretty much exactly what I expected. He's an Uncle Ben-ass, preachy-ass, self-righteous Farrakhan style motherfucker. I guess the bean pie doesn't fall too far from the mosque. Strangely enough, the G-Unit wifebeater model's game wasn't apparent to our veteran judge of character. Miss New York ate up every monosyllabic word he threw at her as long as it came with that chocolaty velvet fog of his. He almost fingerbanged her at the dinner table in front of Punk and Taylor Dane. Luckily for New York, she denied his appendage entry as it probably just came out of the cank stooch of Miss Vietnamese. You don't want too much going on in the petri dish. You don't wanna end up with a Princess Clara. I don't know why Punk and them thought he was flirting. That little Asian girl is part of the room package. Buddha's analysis of New York's preferred erotic stimulus was pretty damn accurate. Homegirl gets off on drama, not penis. With that understanding, one would have thought Buddha had the competition in the bag as he provided more than one man's share. Unfortunately we're dealing with a capricious, ignorant pill-popping cum muppet and the producers that control her every move. Say hello to Mark Cronin and Cris Abrego, everyone! We might as well. They've kept me in business for over 2 years now. Tailor Made: We'll give Miami's big winner and Jamaica's big loser the due he deserves when we put the touches on this series later today.

I Love New York 2: The Stooch In Review - "Actors Need Love Too, Baby!"

Before we explore how many derivatives of female genitalia these freaks saw in their ink blots, let's get these out of the way. Buddha, you on "Hell Date!" ...and you're gay! While the gentlemen were given over for psychoanalysis, the show behind the show was our forceful re-introduction to Miss New York as the undisputed queen of synthetic drama. Yes, synthetic drama differs from organic drama. After finding out Buddha had previously been a contestant on *GASP* reality television programs, CB4 goes ballistic on our boy, Ezra. The funny part is how he tried to differentiate the firmaments of garbage that "Hell Date" and "I Love New York 2" reside within. "Come on baby, that was just some old BET bullshit." That's low of VH1 to even go there. Like I Love New York is fucking Dateline. I Love New York ain't even To Catch A Predator. Then, where does "reality star" Tiffany "Janice" Pollard get off shitting on Buddha Man for working the same circuit as she? Fuck you, sexpot muppet! She'd be a spectacle regardless of Flavor Flav. If she didn't make the cut for "Flavor of Love" she'd be getting paid to fuck on stage in a Russian bar. Gorilla suit optional. On the side of virtue and giving these sociopaths the benefit of the doubt, “Actors need love too.” Unfortunately for Punk, no matter how much S-Curl, coke and steroids he brings to the table, New York isn't really down for his sweet ass. He should have ran behind his lover, Pretty. As we get down to the real business of the program, that being finding someone to diss New York in time for the reunion special in 3 weeks, Mr. Wise obviously had to go. His Charlie Chaplin of the Ghetto routine having run its course, homie can leave this program as the greatest anomaly in Abrego/Cronin history. At least Mr. Boston was interesting, you know? [More catch-up to come]

The Salt & Pepa Show: Don't Push It!

Salt & Pepa's here... --But ain't shit in effect for these girls anymore. As expected on VH1, home of Celebreoverty, the dynamic duo hasn't been excited enough to "Shoop" since they were blurring the Hilfiger logos out of rap videos. The premiere of "The Salt & Pepa Show" did a fine job of explaining the premise of the estrogen war that the series is based upon. Cheryl "Salt" Ward done put down the chocolate magic sticks of the male video hoes (yes, a man can be a video ho) and got saved while her counterpart, Sandy "Pepa" Denton is still trying to live with Treach aftershock. Y'all saw "Love With A Bullet." That man left a paper towel tube-sized cavern where her coochie used to be. My partners and I had a pool going for when the obligatory waterfall of tears would begin. I thought they were gonna break in 5 minutes. They held out for an astonishing 6. Upon hearing of the opportunity to rock a Shaq party Pepa had that look on her face that said "Break out the 8-Ball jackets, bitch!" However, Salt is less than thrilled at the notion of being surrounded by the likes of Stephon Marbury and other nefarious, sexual deviant types. Their manager looked like Lieutenant Daniels watching Herc and Carver argue over where to get the best catfish sandwich in West Baltimore. The two debrief in very different ways. While Pep chooses to cackle it up with the cast of "Living Single" at Applebee's, Salt takes the issue up before her prayer group. Saltine's little vanilla prayer group buddy was like "Get your ass out there and bring those tithes to the congregation!" Damn. Salty dangles the threat of leaving like she's fucking A-Rod. This is why you gotta have solo shit going on. I don't understand. Treach could write for Latifah, but he couldn't help Pep get an LP off? I refuse to believe Latifah had better head game. Flavor Flav couldn’t hold PE back, right? Case in point, Pepa really suggested changing the first line of her "Whatta Man" verse to "a body like Obama." That nigga got a body like Skeletor with a Somalian face. She really couldn't come up with something better? Even Salt's 9-year-old high-yellow altar boy is like "Mom, that shit is lame." At rehearsal we get a little lesson in Pep-ology 102. Apparently "interact" is Pep for “freak off.” The band was having trouble playing with that "Black Chicks Loving Dick" routine going off. She couldn't defend that one. She gave the nigga sim-dome. Upon finding out that Shaq reconsidered having old, pregnant bitches running around in his function, Salt thought it a good idea to have Pepa, who only has strip-club training, rock the church bells. I could only think to myself "Oh, please freak off at church!" That's exactly the degree of jackassery that VH1 is hoping for out of you. Pep fronted on the idea at first but saw the big ass stage and was cool with it. I'm a little upset that they left out Salt's warning though. "We at church, so please don’t deep throat the mic in front of Pastor Bernard." I thought the idea was pretty cool though, mane. Church members deserve a show like that from time to time. Shit. If I pay 10% of my income to some sweaty, neckbone-eatin nigga yelling at me every Sunday, I wanna see a high-quality show from time to time. I can tell from the retard squad they had dancing in the background that these people must have been long overdue for something like this. Pep did do her little freak dip, but cupping her ass only brought more attention to the situation. I didn't have my 3/4 boner until Salt offered that sisterly support I always fantasized about. I can't wait for the rest of the misadventures we must be in for this season of "How Thelma and Louise Got Their Groove Back." There are some serious philosophical differences between these two broads. Something's gotta give, right?