I’d Love Hate F*cking You

***Before we begin today, I wanted to give some love to VSB vet and neuroscientist—yes, she’s a motherf*cking brain scientist—Ivy St., who, after successfully defending last week, is now Ivy St., Ph.D. She is the shit and shit, and I’m proud of and happy for her.***

Yea, I don’t care either

I first fell in love with Stacey Dash before I was old enough to realize why exactly I had fallen in love with her. As Richard Pryor’s teenage daughter in the much worse than it could have been but much better than you probably remember it being “Moving,” Dash was impossibly, almost intentionally cute. It was almost as if the purpose of each of her personal characteristics was to somehow enhance her overall aesthetic. The only reason she had elbows or a sense of smell was to somehow make her cuter. She was cute because she was Cute. She wasn’t just the definition of cute, she was the actual word, like how God is Love and Aretha is Titties.

As the years passed, Dash unfathomably continued to get better looking, culminating in her and her nipples starring in Kanye’s “All Falls Down” video, also known as “the best 4:05 of my life.”

That Dash has recently done a 180 in my mind would be an understatement. It would also be a lie. To do a 180, one has to be the complete opposite of how you felt about them before. And, to be perfectly honest, until her bizarre pro-Republican rants before the election, I had no opinion of Stacey Dash other than “Stacey Dash looks like she was somehow bred by a basket full of mangos.” But, between her obsession with Paul Ryan and the fact that she seems to be the single worst actress to work with in Hollywood, Dash—while still bathwater-level beautiful (“bathwater-level beautiful” = ummm, nevermind. That’s a bit too gross to print)—does not seem to be someone people would actually like if she wasn’t bathwater-level beautiful

(And, if calling her the worst seems harsh, think about this. Actors and actresses talk shit about each other all the time, but it’s usually off the record or dismissed as a rumor. In Dash’s case, though, people are excited, gleeful and shit, to go on the record with their names, addresses, and social security numbers to let everyone know how much of a dick she apparently is to work with. Like, when they’re done talking about her, you can almost feel them wanting to say “…and you can tell that bitch I said it!!!”)

Yet, despite all of this—her apparent vapidness, her tone-deafness, her inability to get coworkers to like her, and, since she hasn’t aged in 22 years, her apparent deal with the Devil—I still wouldnt kick her out of bed. Actually, let me stop playing. I would drink her bathwater…after a Zumba class…and a marathon…while she was on her (Yes, I’m about to say what you think I was about to say. If you don’t want to read this next word, just scroll down to the next paragraph) period¹.

If anyone needs any proof of God’s sense of humor, look no further than the fact that He made it so that we could be very, very, very sexually attracted to someone who we don’t actually like—people we’d love to hate f*ck.

You already read about mine. People of VSB.com, can you name anyone who you kind of sort of hate but would still give them the business like it’s 1999?

¹Told you it was gross

—Damon Young (aka “The Champ”)

all falls down


last week, it was reported that urban lifestyle jerk mag king would be going under after six years of providing prisoners the masses with monthly feature pictorials of scantily clad g-list black celebs, strippers urban models, and whores reality show contestants.

while news of a black-themed, print-based company folding isn’t necessarily a shock in the TET (hostess, 2009), the king’s demise reverberated throughout the web, as many see this as a small defeat for team misogyny.

While the women photographed in the pages of the tawdry rag were all full-grown adults who are to be held accountable for their own exploitation, there is still a debt of shame to be paid by the publishers, writers, advertisers and consumers of the stank rag. (sister t)

So perk up ladies, what activism, engagement, and a desire to confront foolishness couldn’t do, the economy handled for you. Exhibit number 567 that is you cut off the money, the foolishness goes away. (whataboutourdaughters)

i’m neither equipped nor motivated to attempt to fully discuss and dissect the ignominious relationship between american black women and sexual objectification.  i know that history hasn’t been too kind to our sistas in this regard, and i know that much of the blame can be pointed towards jim jones.

still, lost in the hyper-sensitive shuffle is the fact that, across all demographic lines, black women remain the single most fascinating object to view on the planet. admittedly, the basis of this fascination varies from homage to hottentot, but where’s the line? where does admiration end and objectification begin? am i helping or hurting the cause by using an pictorial of bria myles’s air-brushed booty as partial evidence of my assertion that black woman are the bangingest? if a black blogger bones a silcone angel in the woods, would a hoodrat hear the sound?

i dont know.

all i know is if appreciating the freeze-framed image of stacey dash and stacey dash’s n*pples running through the airport in kanye’s “all falls down” constitutes misogyny, well, if misogyny is wrong, i dont wanna be right.

—the champ

vsb crimestoppers: eight things women don’t know about men

“wait…men cant stop their pee???”

a female friend asked the college-aged champ this question, a response to a bewildered champ trying to confirm what he recently, ummm, found out: that all women can easily stop their flow midstream

to answer: no.

wait, that’s a lie. technically we can, but it’s very, very awkward for us to do, and should only be attempted in extreme “damn, here comes the mother-in-law. I sure picked a horrible time to “water” her flowers” types of situations.

as I remembered this, I thought of a few other tidbits about us that most women are probably completely unaware of, and i thought it would be rather altruistic of me to share eight more.

on the surface it may seem as if I’m doing a disservice to my brethren by revealing these, but knowing more about us means happier women. “happy woman” usually means “happy man”, and “happy men” means “less crime”. enjoy and sh*t.

1. if we’re serious about you, our anxiety about meeting your mom has nothing to do with “will i get along with her” and everything to do with “so that’s what she’s probably gonna look like in 25 years”.

2. we already know whether or not you came. we just ask because its makes us all warm and fuzzy inside when you say it.

3. we think its funny that its cool for you all to desire and date older and more established men despite the fact that you think its lame if men your age state a preference for dating much younger and less established women. btw, by “funny” we mean “more proof that you’re nucking futs”.

4. no, those weren’t tears in our eyes at the end of “the notebook”. we just have, ummm, allergies and sh*t sometimes. we also caught allergies at the end of “akeelah and the bee”, and while watching the roots “you got me” video, and this is all purely coincidental

5. us being “excited” when you’re wearing sexy lingere has less to do with how you look in it than the fact that we know we’re about to get some.  we appreciate the effort though.

6. your relationship history matters to us. to expound, if we find out that you have a tendency to be attracted to and date lame assh*les, then we’ll slowly start to consider you to be a lame assh*le as well. my advice? lie

7. we usually wont let you see us flaccid unless we’re convinced that you’re sprung. interpret this whichever way you see fit

8. lastly, if you swallow all we really want do to is make you happy…but we need your help to do so. i mean, think about it: with all the admittedly horomonally chaotic sh*t you all have going on in there, do you even really want us to be able to read your minds?

fellas, did i miss anything?

—the champ