Tag Archives: the game

An Open Letter To Anybody Even Remotely Associated With Belly 2: Millionaire Boyz Club

Posted on by
426

[DISCLAIMER: You might be asking yourself why I watched this movie. Two reasons: 1) Belly is a classic movie. Period. Hands down the best music video I've ever scene. 2) I decided to contribute to the Black community by using my Netflix account to support Black cinema. I have ordered, literally, every Black movie that Netflix has to offer. Belly 2 was one of these movies. After watching it, I decided that supporting Black cinema is probably not really that important so I filled my Neflix queue up with every season of Seinfeld, Friends, and All in The Family. Thank you and good night.]

F*ck you.

F*ck you twice.

All of you involved in this project should be taken over a knee and slapped with a sack of rusty nickels and two ho’s with a bottle of rum. That includes the key grips. What the hell is a grip anyway and why did this movie have one?

You people are evil and vile. Dastardly and deviant. You motherf*ckers are responsible for the loss of Michael Jackson’s childhood. He found it. He sure did but then you bastards unleashed this travashamockery of cinematic putrescence onto the masses and then next thing you know (or four year’s later, whichever comes first) the King of Pop is dead. How could you kill Michael Jackson? How could you?

Oh, I know how. For starters you cast The Game as the title role. Now it’s possible that he financed the film (Czar Management is behind this and we all know Jimmy Snitchmen, oh excuse me, Henchman is your manager) so your hands were tied. But you know what kind of a b*tch made dude he is. I’m also sure that you heard him read lines before filming. Did NOBODY say to themselves, “hey fellas, this might not be such a good idea after all. I mean do you hear this guy running lines? He sounds like a gay puma f*cking a piece of sandpaper with some Elmer’s glue behind his ears.”

But no. Then you give us a premise that’s as clichéd as it is stupid. Game, or “G” as he’s casted in this “movie” gets out of jail after an 8-year bid and can’t find work so he returns to crime. Then Shari Headley, a cop who goes undercover as a woman interested in a man who’s in love with a girl who’s in love with a boy who’s in love with his mama, shows up, drugs get involved, everybody dies and Game reads poetry. If I didn’t check the credits I’d think it was a Spike Lee movie.

Why do you all hate love? Why do you hate the Black community? We all know that Game is as big a p*ssy as can be, but you involved others in your plan to ruin a franchise created by Hype Williams. Did he even know that you were creating Belly 2??????? Did he? There was not one single, solitary moment of part 2 that even remotely related to the first movie. It was evil to connect the two to get people like myself with a  healthy affinity for Hype Williams’ crowning achievement to seek out part 2. That was just rude. Mary Kate and Ashley Olson.

I think you should all burn in hell for what you’ve done. Also, why the f*ck was there music literally playing through the entire movie? Did the director forget to come to the editing meetings and somebody who hoped to get on in the world decided that every single scene needed music – bad music at that. Michael K. Williams was totally wasted in this movie but luckily everybody will only remember his as Omar becuase he sucked more than, well, Omar. And back to Shari Headley. Who brought the old b*tch to the party?

I’m sorry that was rude and I don’t really call old women b*tches like that. I’m sorry. But do you see what you did? That terror that you wrought on the community – since ain’t no way in South Hell that any melanin-deficient or even non-Black person will see this – is going to set back the civil rights movement for eons. At least two weeks. And that’s unacceptable. You f*cktards actually created and executed the worst movie of all time.

OF ALL TIME.

You’ve made Tyler Perry’s suites look like Oscar contenders. I hate you and everybody that you know. Yes I think you did it and I hope you burn in hell.

I feel sorry for all of your mothers.

Good night and die.

P.S. F*ck your couch and all of the furniture on your second floor.

Good patrons of VSB, are there any open letters (of less length) that’d you like to write and get off your chest today? Be free. Go tell it on the mountain. Tell them why you are mad. Son.

-VSB P aka THE ARSONIST aka TANGLE JIG P aka VITAMIN P aka 40P aka GIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRL HE A 3

five subtle signs that he aint sh*t

Posted on by
404

tn2_michael_beach_3

although offering sistas suggestions on how to “better their relationship luck” definitely fits in with vsb’s crime-fighting ideals, the advice is useless if they’re unwittingly targeting faulty dudes.

sure, from “he has three baby-mommas, and each of his seeds were born on the exact same day” to “he’s a kappa” there are many easy to see traits of probable relationship bitchassness, but there are also some aint sh*t cats whose aint sh*t-ness is stealth. while these dudes don’t exactly have neon “date me at your own risk” signs patched on their blazers, the tells are there, you just need to know what to look for and why

anyway, as an early christmas gift to our sistas (and brothas who’ll eventually have to date sistas affected by aint sh*t dudes), here’s five subtle signs that he probably aint sh*t Continue reading →

The Player.

Posted on by
163

***admin note:  I’m sure you’ve noticed that I’ve been pretty absent from these parts during the day, and night for that matter.  The powers that be at my job have determined that VSB is not fit for my consumption during the day.  So basically, I need a new job.  We’re working on finding a way to get around this but as of now, we’ve been unsuccessful.  You’ve never seen a brotha do SO MUCH to get himself kicked out of a job…during a recession.  Basically, I love y’all.***

I remember in 1997 when Def Jam’s How To Be A Player was released.  Much like every other young man (though I was 18 at the time) I figured that I could use whatever tips the movie shared and parlay them into beacoup college booty.

Oh the possibilities.  Especially if you consider the fact that Bill Bellamy was the “player”.  I figured if folks would actually believe that Bill Belamy was pimp.tight than Panama Muhf*ckin’ would DEFINITELY be able to snag the snappy.  Who knew that women actually thought he was attractive.

Jinky’s.

Aside: Am I the only person who thinks that Joe made some of the absolute best music of the late 90′s?  “Don’t Want To Be A Player No More” and “(All The) Things Your Man Won’t Do” were some of the bestest songs ever.  Fo’reel.

Anyway, that didn’t work out so well.  I mean I had chicks and all but really, a player I wasn’t.  I couldn’t just walk into a room and book any woman I wanted.  I couldn’t just point to a woman and she’d walk towards me because of my beguiling ways.  Fact is, until about age 23, I was just that dude who had plenty of women friends and had a few breezies spread out across the AUC.  Never at a loss for a woman, but definitely not beating them away with a stick.  The game just wasn’t in me like that.

In essence, I was a regular Joe.  Joe Q. Public.  I just lived and learned.

Seriously, who remembers that song?

Other cats had the game.  They had that Oakland game.  The type of game that only comes from the true players and macks of yesteryear.  To them, I tip my had.  But most men (and women) talk a better game than they play.  And with that in mind, here are a few ways you can tell if somebody’s (or even maybe your own) game ain’t as tight as they (you) think it is:

- you have chicks (or men) but they all look just a little bit better than average but not good enough to have anybody else REALLY interested in taking your woman (or man)

You ain’t a player if you ain’t snaggin’ the object of other people’s desire.  That’s a fact, pimpin.  You especially lose points if all of your tricks are of the strong-faced variety.  And no, that’s not a good thing.  At all.   Word to Whoopi.

- you pay for everything

Women who have the game down get their rent paid.  Men get clothes and prescription drugs (the Health game is mad depressing right now).  If you still pay all of your own bills, you’re not a player, you’re just a citizen who dates.

- there are currently no standing rumors about you permeating your circle

Every true player has somebody spreading lies about them.  It’s part of the allure that drags unsuspecting prey into the fold.  If nobody knows who you are, or even worse, cares,  you are not up to player par.  Hell, think about this, at this point Ray-J (believe or not) is a player.  Strangely, there is a huge sect of women out there who love Ray-J.  And not because of the great music he makes!  That’s a joke, though I do like his last two albums.

Sue me.

And you know you watch his show on vh1.  It’s okay to admit it.

Oh, and you get points if women actually HATE eachother because of you.

Score.

- nobody actually pursues you

That one’s pretty obvious but you’d be amazed at how many “players” aren’t in demand. Or, as my good friend Ray Cash would say, are merely pimps in their own f*cking mind.

- your mama can name every woman you know

If your mama knows them, that means she’s meeting them, which means you ain’t a player.  Players don’t catch feelings.  And only a sucka with feelings would take a woman/man to meet their mama.  Word is bond.

***

So good folks of VSB.com, what are other ways of determining a cat doesn’t have the game he or she claims to have?

-VSB P aka THE ARSONIST aka TANGLE JIG P

By the way, I HATE this Afromance ad.  I absof*ckinlutely hate it.