While writing this listing for the indie horror flick The Signal on Metroactive’s movie reviews index page, I snuck in a jab at VH1:
This horror flick is about strange broadcasts that drive viewers insane. Yeah, too many VH1 marathons of ‘I Love New York’ and ‘Flavor of Love’ will do that to you. Oh and by the way, VH1, you’re really helping your Black History Month promo campaign by continuing to produce modern-day minstrel shows like ‘I Glove New York’ and ‘Flavor of Lube.’
You can’t have it both ways, Veeaytch. You can’t celebrate Black History Month and be responsible for the Labia of Love franchise at the same time.
I’m not black, but I grew up listening to Public Enemy‘s earlier albums. I’m a bit bothered by Flavor “No sellout” Flav‘s shuckin’ and jivin’ in the clips from his show that I see each week on The Soup because his reality TV career pisses on everything P.E. has stood for. To borrow a Riley line from the Boondocks animated series, watching these clips is like going to heaven and finding God smoking crack.
Speaking of black history, film blogger Odienator is writing a “Black History Mumf” series of posts as an alternative to more reverent approaches to Black History Month. He considers Black History Month “to be a major joke, like some time-oriented table scraps thrown to us by a majority that didn’t fancy that part of the pig—calendar chitlin’s.”
Instead of posting about the achievements of the likes of Oscar Micheaux or Sidney Poitier (who turns 81 years old today!), Odienator is focusing his attention on unlikely subjects like the first and best House Party flick, my favorite Eddie Murphy movie, Coming to America, the kids’ games during Crooklyn‘s cool opening credits sequence and the oeuvre of director Michael Schultz, who was responsible for both one of the most beloved cult movies amongst black audiences (Cooley High) and one of the worst movies ever made (Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band). The “Black History Mumf” posts are a fun and informative read.
“Sexual Chocolate! Sexual Chocolate!”
Reverend Brown… asks us to put our hands together for Randy Watson. The crowd is less than enthusiastic, and soon it is clear why. Watson, backed by his band Sexual Chocolate, sings the worst rendition of The Greatest Love Of All, a song numerous people have done on Amateur Night at the Apollo.