How To Be A Pseudo-Celebrity Like A Motherlover


My name is Panama Dontavious Jackson and I’m kind of a f*cking big deal. People stop me in the streets and ask me for directions. Almost every day, somebody looks at me. Sometimes it happens twice in one day. What is it? I don’t know. But I got it. Whose is it? Even Michael wasn’t sure.

MJ gone. Our n-word dead.

The reason my apartment reeks of mahogany and is filled with leather-bound books is because I’m a pseudo-celebrity aka 40 percent of the time people know me all of the time.

What is a pseudo-celebrity you ask? Good question. Pseudo-celebrity is what happens when a few people know who you are and everybody else is like who the f*ck are you when the few people who know who you are say things like, “hey you’re XYZ!”

Or even better. You know how famous people get free things? Not pseudo-celebrities. Sure, pseudos get into places free as long as they either know a manager or a bouncer, but if neither are present at the bar, he’s paying for that drink. Basically, there are no free drinks. Even if somebody wants to get you a free drink, they’re paying for that drink first. You know why?

Because you’re only pseudo famous. If you was famous famous nobody would have to buy you a drink…

…you’d already have one.

This is my life. Now this isn’t a complaint at all. I actually rather enjoy the times when I see people out and they say things like, “hey, its Panama! Oh my gosh, I didn’t expect to see you out and about like that! You’re not nearly as hot as I thought you were in that picture where I can’t see your face but I do see you smoking!”

That’s the funny part about pseudo-celebrity. Some people think you’re famous, others couldn’t care less. I mean it looks cool when you’re out in these streets and people stop you to say they read the site (I think most bloggers with a good readership go through this) or when you’re out of town and folks randomly recognize you and make it seem like you’re a big deal. But you know how real bad boys move in silence? Your highness?

Yeah, pseudo-celebs are total bad boys. Nobody moves out the way when we come thru. In fact, unless you’re a tall person, nobody moves period. I have to push through the crowd like everybody else. Of course that time somebody yelled out Panama and somebody else yelled out Noriega was funny. There’s no story there.

Well, as the pseudo-celebrity motherlover that I am, and seeing as so many of you who venture here are clearly famous in your own right (even if nobody knows your real name, which is like, totes coo, since most folks don’t know my real name either! AS IF!), I know its hard out here for a pimp. So I figured I’d drop a little knowledge. Knowledge my brothers and sisters; use it or lose it.

So you wanna be a gangsta, all that sh*t smoke any motherf*cker don’t even trip and be hard as hell and say whatever you want, punk suckers wanna front…

Or here are some on how to be a pseudo-celebrity like a motherf*cker.

1. Be super f*cking fly

Not a little fly. Leave that tsetse fly sh*t at the door, whoadie. Naw. Big dog it. When you walk into a building, dap people up, especially people you don’t know. This gives you the chance to seem more important than you are. Somebody will say, do you know who that its? Most people will say no, but one person who is totes in the know will say, “hey, that was Panama Jackson and he’s one fly motherf*cker.”

2. Be super f*cking cool while being super f*cking fly

Basically its the same sh*t as 1.

3. Wear sunglasses when it rains

Before you can be out here dapping up people you don’t know, you need to LOOK like somebody that should be dapping up people. You can’t pointdexter the sh*t, my ninja. You have to rock the stunna shades and pop your collar. Don’t pop your collar. But like wear Jordans or something. Pseudo-celebs totally rock Jordans. And really expensive tank tops. In the winter.

4. Always respond to anonymous shoutouts

You ever been out and somebody yells for their friend across the street. Always assume they’re yelling for you. Say you hear a “HEY! HO! HEY! HO!” like you’re a Lumineer my ninja. Well, you bet’ yell back “WHATS UP BRO! STAY SWAGGY!” Then keep on walking I ain’t talking to you anymore.

5. Tell people you’re a promoter

In fact, create a Linkedin account with your sole job as promoter. That way when people google you (you are pseudo-famous remember) they’ll see that you ain’t lying. On paper. Promoters are famous people. You are kind of famous, so you promote happy hours. Especially the one you’re at where you dapped up all the people you didn’t know. HEY HO. HEY HO.

6. Always walk to the VIP line and be surprised when you can’t get in…in the VIP line.

This has never happened to me. I’m not only pseudo-famous, I’m the pseudo-famous president. I got a card. It’s like one of those punch-cards for so many free coach entries and you get a free VIP entry. Totally rocks.

Do dat do dat do do dat dat dat.

You know what, this is how motherf*cking pseudo famous I am….I’m spent.

You do the heavy lifting. How would you advise somebody to get their fake celebrity on. Like Panama Jackson. I’m your client. Help me be famous.

Happy Friday.


18 Questions For Dat Azz On A Friday

Hey, young world. It’s Friday in the land before time and your wife is cheatin’ on us. Thanks to Richard “Dimples” Fields, there is a song called “Your Wife Is Cheatin’ On Us”. And the actual song sounds as ridiculous as the title.To be fair though, it sounds like the kind of song a ninja named “Dimples” would make. Down to the singing.

You’re welcome.

Anyway, after all of that wortwhile and whimsy discussion over the past few days, I figured I’d drop a few things on you all that have been on my mind for a lil while. Janet Jackson suggested that we wait a while, but then she also said anytime, anyplace.

I was going somewhere with that, but forget it. I give up. Let’s get right into some things that have been on my mind for a while. 18 questions, if you will.

And in general, these are all things that keep me up at night and would stand to create at least 2 or 3 hours of solid, actual debate and discussion amongst me and my friends. Welcome to my world. Whose house? P’s house.

1. Just when in the hell did bacon become so popular? Seriously, bacon has had like the best two years ever. It’s always been good, but when did it get a PR team and become the hottest thing since The Beatles?

And then there's that.

And then there’s that.

2. Am I wrong or was DeVoe the least talented member of New Edition? I got into an argument with my boy about this the other day. He steadfastly defends that Biv was the least talented as he claims DeVoe was the best dancer in the group. I think this is wrong since Bobby was clearly the best dancer. Here’s my hierarchy of New Edition, talentwise: Ralph, Bobby, Johnny, Ricky, Biv, DeVoe.

3. When was the last “neighborhood” ass whippin that didn’t result in somebody’s parents calling the police? Back in the day you could get beat by all your neighbors before you got home for doing something stupid. Now? Your own parents are afraid to beat you. When did this happen?

4. Here’s a good questions that is probably not really a good question at all: when you start dating somebody, are you responsible for their self-esteem? Like should you make it a point to do your best to ensure that they have the highest sense of self? Or should you just make sure you’re not doing anything to destroy their esteem. Seems like a stupid question, but think about it.

5. If you put 2 bloggers in a room, and take away their blogs….are they still bloggers?

6. Let’s settle this once and for all, Michelle Obama…hot or hot because she gives Obama street cred?

7. Why are elected officials whose sole job is to come up with new and innovative ways to fix problems ONLY able to come up with solutions that either haven’t worked in the past or are too stupid to possibly work in the future? How can a nation full of innovators manage to assume that if you put daddy in the house all problems will be fixed? I was raised by my daddy and it’s amazing I’m not doing federal prison time right now. Real spit.

8. Which was a more significant non-reality Black death, Ricky or Stringer? And if either of those names constitutes a spoiler alert for you, then I feel sorry for your mother.

9. Hell, what was the most significant Black death in a movie? I’ve got some theories, but I’m curious.

10. I once heard that profanity is the last resort of a person with limited vocabulary. I’ve always disagreed with this since I’ve definitely dropped perpetuity and lascivious in a convo earlier today. This made me think something, I find that the ability to curse well is an attractive quality in a woman. Not that I need a woman who curses up a storm, but I can appreciate it. I just realized that sounds like I hang with people named Mendeecees.

Speaking of…

11. I said this on Twitter earlier, but I don’t feel like there’s enough conversation around the fact that 1) a man named Mendeecees and a woman named Yandy managed to find each other AND find love; and 2) two people with those names doesn’t even move the needle in 2013.

12. Neither of those last two items were questions? Also, does adding a question mark make something a question? I don’t think so. But you can make an argument.

13. If you answer a rhetorical question, is it truly rhetorical? Philosophy my brother, use it or lose it.

14. Best Janet Jackson album? I’m torn between Rhythm Nation and Janet. I’d take both of those albums out to dinner and pay. I think Janet gets the nod from me. But “Alright” is still my favorite song, like totes ever, by Janet Jackson.

15. Are there natural hair wigs out there? I can’t seem to find any in my Asian owned Black hair care store.

16. Would you love me in the morning without giving you half my dough, and even worse if I was broke would you want me?

17. Does Complex Magazine not have some of THE worst lists ever about music known to mankind? I think so.

18. Won’t you be my neighbor?

I think that’s it for me right now. These are questions that were on my mind. Have thee any burning questions on your mind? It’s freestyle Friday. Drop bombs on them. Ask away and start whatever discussion you want.

And…should you have answers to any of my questions…please share with a brotha.

Posse. Out.


No Social Media, No Thank You.

Believe it or not, I still know people who utilize no forms of social media. Now this “people” is a relatively small group of individuals, but they exist. Now because I’ve known those folks for years and years, I trust them.

But let’s say I’m out in these streets – because I’m usually out in these streets doing things that people out in these streets do – and I meet an individual lacking either a Facebook page, a Linkedin profile, Twitter or Instagram, and well, I’m throwing more shade than Oprah in 1995. Hmm…y’all know how people differentiate between Fat Luther and Skinny Luther as to which version made better music, has anybody ever done such a thing with regards to Oprah? I’m guessing no. But that would be a worthy project for a communications major.

Real talk. No R. Kelly.

Back to the lecture at hand. I’m not sure I’d fully trust anybody who attempted to leave no digital footprint short of their email accounts. It just makes me nervous, like you have something to hide. Now, the irony of this is how often people lie on the Internet. So while I don’t trust anybody who has no footprint, I also cannot trust what I see from the majority of folks who do.

Cognitive dissonance, thy name is Panama Jackson.

You know what else makes no sense, despite the fact that we all make so much information readily available, we still get freaked out when we find out people are taking a look at all of it. I remember many moons ago, a young lady I was seeing made it clear that she’d looked thru my FB page and then went thru all of the pictures of my sisters. While this is all completely legal, it seemed creepy and stalkerish. Now, as it turns out, I was more upset that she informed me that she was a stalker as opposed to her actual stalking. Some things you should keep to yourself, but as many of us know, when women are interested in you, they like to gain as much information as possible and in doing so tend to be extremely inquisitive about your life and everything in it. With that inquisitiveness comes a remarkable ability to remember details…while leaving keys in the refrigerator or a purse in the chimney.

I’m not so sure why men aren’t that way. I think when we like a woman we just like her as is, the details aren’t as important. Sure we like to know you aren’t a murderer but we assume that if we’re interested, the details are just extras. Men? We stupid.

Where was I? Oh yes, so despite all of this information being available, I’m leery of people who make it clear that they avail themselves of all accessible forms of social media. Instagram? They know what date you and time you posted that picture. Twitter, they’re reading that like a hawk. Facebook…well shut the front door.

Conversely more, you know what else I don’t quite understand? People with all of this social media sh*t and it’s all padlocked. Now, I get to some degree why its necessary to privatize your information. And for a vast many people, FB and Twitter is a way to communicate with people they’d not likely communicate with, so I suppose it makes sense to some degree. But it does seem like if you’re going to be apart of the community, just do it with open arms. Sure, I’ve had blog posts stolen and pictures jacked and I’m pretty sure…wait for it…

…Brick killed a guy.

(I haven’t done that in a while.)

But I’ve also met some great and terrible people online that my life wouldn’t be the same without; people I’d never have met if I locked myself off from the world. So if I meet you out and all of your sh*t is private, I’m also giving you the Panama Jackson Epic Side-Eye and assuming you’ve got something to hide. Either that or your tremendously boring. There’s no way somebody who is insanely entertaining is locking their profile. If you tell a joke and nobody is there to hear it, is it funny? Methinks not. So if you were interesting, there’s a good chance that your profile would be public so that others could validate your entertainingness. That’s the first commandment of blogging: Thou shalt be narcissistic.

Y’all think I do this for you? No, I do this for me so when I look in the mirror at night I can say, Pretty Petey, you did that. Not coincidentally…

…that’s what she said.

(Are you still reading and wondering what the hell just happened in the past 754 words? Mr. Me Too.)

The point is, even though you can’t trust anybody via social media, you definitely can’t trust anybody who isn’t up on social media. Unless that person still uses any of the following services that may or may not exist: MySpace, AOL, BlackPlanet anything, etc.

So what say you? How do you feel about folks without a social media presence online? Would you date or actively get to know somebody who informed you that they just don’t get down like that (I realize that’s a dumb question when stated like that…on the list of dealbreakers its an odd one…but would it make you suspicious in 2013?)? If you don’t involve yourself, even in Facebook, why not? What’s the 411, hon? You got it goin’ on? Yeah I got it goin’ on.

Talk to me. Petey.


Say My Name, Say My Name

I had this whole post idea ready to go for today then I realized that I couldn’t come up with a title for it. So I scrapped it.

Yes, you read that right. I scrapped an entire post because I couldn’t come up with the proper way to present it to you, the people, the masses, the folks. Then I remembered an idea and question I had a while back. See, one thing that we love about VSB ’round here (no Memphis Bleek) is that we’ve managed to establish actual repoires with ninjas and non-ninjas who frequent these parts. We’ve done various icebreakers to find out about our community for the purposes of doing awkward demographic data mining so that one day we could sell all of that information to Hennessey or Cognac or one of the other companies hell bent on destroying what’s left of the Black community.

Like St. Ides.

Anyway, one idea that we never really tapped into was probably the most obvious and potentially the most interesting:

How’d you come up with your handle? Or hell even your Twitter handle for all of us who spend as much time on Twitter as we do with our families and pugs. While I know that some folks handles are as simple as a variant of their names, some folks have very interesting ass names. So I figured, what the hell, spill the beans.

I’ll start. In DC, when I’m out and about, I often introduce myself as Panama. For some of you that might sound ridiculous, but the truth is, PJ, is an actual living and working nickname, especially in DC. Most folks dont remember my real name for anything but Panama is a name everybody always remembers. I’ve actually had the nickname WELL before I started writing anywhere.

For starters, I was born in the country. Yep. That is from whence I came. My birth certificate is in Spanish and English. But the way that the name was truly borne was out of a trip I took to Lake Lanier north of Atlanta, for our senior week at Morehouse. Me and my boys were walking to the entrance and for some odd reason – I do a lot of “for some odd reason” things – I decided to start walking through some bushes. They looked inviting. They welcomed me like Gaia was in there massaging feet. Anyway, one of my boys look at me and is like, “who the hell are you supposed to be? Panama Jack?” I was like, “naw, homey, I’m Black. Make that Panama Jackson.” Just that simple.

Later that night when I got home I went on AOL and got me a PanamaDJackson (had to add the D, which stands for Dontavious) screenname. I added the “D” because PanamaJackson was taken. That was in like 2001. So anyway, that’s how I came up with my name for all those that didn’t know. Or couldn’t remember.

So what’s your story?

Happy Friday and Happy Memorial Day!


Also, check out P’s latest post over at Guyspeak, “If You’re Faking It, Should You Ever Tell?” You know what that’s about. Check it out! And Champ’s latest post over at Ebony, “Think Like a…Fact-Checker. Did France Really Ban ‘Think Like A Man?’”

Monday we’re off. But don’t forget if you’re in DC that on Saturday, June 2, 2012, we’ve got another edition of REMINSCE at Liv Nightclub coming up! Except this time, we’re gonna be celebrating my birthday! Please come out and hang with your boy for a little while. I’d really appreciate it. Plus, it’s free before 11pm w/RSVP ( and $10 after. AND there’s an open bar from 930-1030 WITH NO DRESS CODE. You can come in shorts because it gets HOT in there.

Separate, But Equal For The Greater Good!

Emo is also know as Marvin's Room.

Separate, but equal.

Such powerful words. They created the basis for Jim Crow and laundromats. And zoos. Definitely zoos. Well over time I’ve come to learn that with all of the progress we’ve made with integration (whether or not integration was a good thing is rightfully debatable), that while being able to drink from the same drinking fountain f*cking rocks, there are some instances where perhaps, separate, but equal just might be better. In some ways, thats the premise that the Black Panthers were working with. Allow our communities to police ourselves because we couldn’t trust the power structure as it was to justly address the issues of our community.

Then came crack.

Moving on. The point is, all segregation isn’t a bad thing. I hear you looking at me with odd trepidation. I would be too. But trust me, I’ve recently discovered some areas where perhaps segregation might be beneficial to all parties involved. Eli Porter face. I did that.

And thiiiiiiiiis is where this post takes the turn towards, huh? what? Just keep swimming.

While I have you completely baffled about what direction I’m going, here is a list of things where segregation might be best for us all.

1. Hip-hop dance class

To most white people, all Black people have rhythm, can sing and dance, and are great at basketball. And I, for one, am completely okay with that stereotype. We’re the purveyors of cool. I think white and Black people have come to a comfortable understanding and acceptance that we’ve got this entertainment thing on lock. So imagine just how disappointing (and upsetting) it would be if the Black chick in the hip-hop dance class sucked at dancing. Hell, I’d be disappointed and I KNOW all Black people can’t dance. Plus, Black people wouldn’t be subject to being taught “Black culture” by white teachers who call themselves things like DJ Scriggety Scratch who start all classes by saying “peace” forcing us to want to jackslap and mollywop somebody to make penance for the blatant disrespect of our culture. Or something. Point is, segregated hip-hop dance class is a win for everybody. Khaled.

2. Any establishment that serves soul food

As we’ve said plenty of times on this here site, down South, Black and white people pretty much eat the same sh*t. Hell, back in slavery days, we were the ones cooking for massa and ‘nem so it makes sense that on Thanksgiving day in the South, everybody’s eating the same thing (with the exception of the large Hispanic population who are likely NOT eating hogmaws). Do you know how difficult it is for some Black people to eat chicken AND/OR watermelon in front of white people? I know people who refuse to do so as to not be stereotypical. Well, if we mandated segregated soul food eating then we, the Black people, could be free to eat our stereotypical food in peace while they, the white people, could be free to eat the most bland deviled eggs of all time without worrying about anybody trying to put paprika on them. Everybody wins.

3. The movies

Hear me out. This kind of probably happens already anyway depending on the movie. But if there’s one place where stereotypes get reinforced, its the movie theater. Word.Life. Ninjas do hoodrat things with their friends at the movies. And I assume white people do too. We just tend to be a little more auditory. I remember going to see Bamboozled when it came out in Atlanta and much to my surprise there was a very mixed crowd. Well, we talked through the whole damn movie. Amenning it up. Yelling and booing at the screen. I’m fairly positive that the nice white people didn’t hear half the movie because I know that I didn’t hear half the movie. Picture a Tyler Perry movie experience on opening weekend. Well if we separate, but equate that joint then white people can watch in silence and Black folks can ham it up in loudence…THEN wait for the DVD to come out and purchase that joint ENSURING that Black movies continue to get made since the main reason why so many Black movies can’t get the green-light is because the majority of money made on Black movies comes from DVD sales. If we ain’t buying, they ain’t making. Word to big bird. Again, everybody wins. White folks pay upfront and we take it in the rear. Sounds like life, eh?

4. Men’s bathrooms for Drake fans and for non-Drake fans

In one, there are urinals and stalls. In the other, there are only stalls. I’ll let you assign them accordingly.

Those are just a few examples of places that logically might make sense to segregate, if ya know what I mean, for the greater good. Good people of VSB, got anything else???

Talk to me.