The 2014 Oscar’s Real Time Diary

This would be a spoiler if, you know, everybody didn't already know. #LupitaLove

This would be a spoiler if, you know, everybody didn’t already know. #LupitaLove

I’m here blogging all the way live from Huntsville, Alabama since Mother Nature has put her foot all up in the arse of the East Coast this winter. I been stranded, I been stranded. Hopefully I make it back to DC sometime in the near future, but for now, you’re gettin’ some southern fried funk all up in your e-reader. Swag.

Well, because most ninjas I know are watching the Oscars tonight because of 12 Year A Slave’s nominations, I figure I may as well participate in the action with some blogaliciousness. Swag me out.

Also, we’ll see how long I’m able to keep this up. I usually get bored by the Oscars. This year is likely to be no different. Luckily I have my favorite white woman, Ellen, to keep me entertained.

8:30: Annnnnnnnd we’re off. Normally if I see this many tiny white men I assume its a midget KKK rally. Do those even exist? I’m going to keep watching anyway, tho. Luckily these are all tiny see through mannequins. What?

8:32: I f*cks with Ellen the long way. Word that up. I even f*ck with this neck-tie thing she has going on. Thomas Jefferson is like, “I swagged that out first, my Gs”.

8:33: And already Ellen hit our elderly population with the first insensitve joke. I luvs her. See what I did there? Luvs? Diapers? But I’m sleep. Oh…and African jokes. Somali? Sommelier? Bong Bong.

8:35: Can we start a petition to get people like Ellen to host everything? Chris Rock was good a few years back if I remember. Oh…and let’s make sure that LL never hosts anything ever again. Shots at Hollywood’s degree attainment. Though techincally, if somebody was gonna pay me $10milli I’d bounce on college too and buy me a degree online from DeVry. Or ITT Tech.

8:36: Can we please have a moment of silence for the bangin’ ness of Jennifer Lawrence?

8:40: “And now welcome our first white presenter: Anne Hathaway!!”

8:42: First award up, Best Supporting Actor. We’re one award in and we’ve already got more awards presented than the BET Awards from the past 10 years combined. The lesson here? Well there isn’t one. And Jared Leto walks away with it for Dallas Buyer’s Club. Jared Leto is one pretty motherf*cker. He is also fly as THE f*ck up there. Shout outs to mothers stay winnin’ outchea. This ninja talked for quite some time though. I mean, he’s really speeching this up. Wrap it up, b.

Jared Leto is one talkative chap.

8:47: Jim Carrey sighting. Is he the most successful In Living Color alumni? Real question. I asked this real question on Twitter and Twitter quickly said Jamie Foxx. This is debateable, but Jamie might have it.

8:50: Look at Kerry Washington up here introducing another Black person, Pharrell performing “Happy”. Das racist. I mean, it might seem crazy what I’m about to say, but I’m happy so f*ck it. You know, I love this song, but I can really say that I did not see this song taking off like it has. Every day I see somebody post that they are listening to this song to start their day. Which is good, don’t worry, be happy. But some of y’alls is some liars. I know some straight up angry folks posting that song. Must be an example of irony or something. Oh, and Pharrell dancing with Lupita? Racial harmony from the album cover or nah?

8:57: I’m already losing steam but then I heard Samuel Jackson. And I’m like, of course, Samuel Jackson. If he doesn’t yell, I will be disappointed. I feel like Sam Jack needs an honorary Oscar for existing. Shit should be an annual award, “the Samuel L. Jackson Award for Existing”.

9:02: Harrison Ford came out still talking like Branch Rickey from 42. I can’t tell if he normally talks like this and I didn’t know or he’s still acting.

9:05: It’s very easy to get distracted by other things while the Oscar’s are on. For instance…wait…Channing Tatum looks extremely pretty right up there on stage and I’m sure every woman just exhaled. Wait, what was I talking about again? Dammit. Distracted again.

How long is this show? Dammit.

9:11: Ellen outchea giving away LOTTERY TICKETS to people who didn’t win????? That’s so ice cold and hilarious at the same time I don’t even know what to say. I just used like 20 words to say something that I didn’t know what to say.

9:12: Okay, Matthew McConnaghey (sp?) is one fly motherf*cker. Like, for reals. And, listen up America, Botox is not always your friend.

9:15: I saw Frozen and didn’t love it. I thought it was cool, but didn’t love it. However, America seems to have felt differently. That damn movie is EVERYWHERE. So, if Frozen is in a category, Frozen is winning a category.

9:20: I feel inclined to say that at this point, I’m literally fading. I haven’t had a drink (that’s not completely true) but we’re all here for the big awards. They don’t televise stuff like, “Best Singer who Wears Socks”, we could definitely cut the time on this show by only televising the awards most of us watching even realize exist. With that being said, Sally Field.

9:22: I swear I feel like I’ve been watching this show for the past 3 days and its only been an hour. Fuuuuuuuu*ck.

9:25: Some people are singing some song about something. Wow, this is getting REALLY hard to keep up with just from an awake standpoint.

9:36: Bradley Cooper is one cool dude. Even when he’s talking about documentaries, he makes them seem like extra cool documentaries.

9:40: The Oscars just got hit with “His Eye Is On The Sparrow”. We’re all better off for that even if I didn’t see that coming at all.

9:43: Angelina Jolie manages to prove that if there is a fountain of youth out there and you can stay fine as long as you put your mind to it. She is FOCUSED on staying bad as hell.

Here’s whats happened in the last 17 minutes:

Brad Pitt lookin’ like he drinks at the fountain of youth with Angelina every morning. Viola Davis came out and hit the Kenya Moore twirl like “Lupita ain’t the only darkskint woman of note outchea people” and zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz….

10:03: It’s possible I never really pay attention, but there have been a pretty substantial number of Black folks on here thus far. I think. Michael B. Jordan came out with some type of urban wear star tie clip. I’m gonna say that was not a good move. But he’s the man anyway.

10:05: Ellen really was posting the selfies she was taking. That makes me feel like I’m really apart of the process. Awww…thanks Ellen.

10:11: We’re finally getting to the awards that most of us care about. Best Supporting Actress…and the winner is….(I’d totally smang Jennifer Lawrence)….(Lupita is too regal for me to say anything so crass, this feels like a blog post in the making….but ummm…she purty)….HOLY SH*T SHE WON!!!!!!!!!!!!!! LUPITA I MEAN!!!!!!!! And she went up there and gave a good speech. I feel like everybody was happy that she won.

You know how some people just seem like you want good things to happen to them. That’s how I feel about her.

I could probably quit now since this is the ENTIRE reason why I watched this long ass show. But I’ll try to continue to stay awake.

10:22: Ellen really just ordered pizza and handed it out. To the audience. She is LEGIT one of the best hosts for all times.

10:26: Bill Murray is still very funny. I have nothing else to add to that.

10:35: Pink is singing. She can sing. People will stand up and clap for her.

10:37: Pink finished singing. People stood up and clapped for her.

10:42: Ellen with the fairy costume. She has energy. She needs it. This show is still going on.

10:59: I lowkey forgot I was doing this by now. Let’s see what’s happened since we last spoke. I honestly don’t know. They did the dead people tribute and Bette Midler sang a song. She sang “Wind Beneath My Wings”…I used to love this song. Still do. You know, I remember many people’s voices much differently when I was younger. Their voices were…better.

11:11: At this point I’m just waiting for the big awards to happen. Oh…Jamie Foxx just showed up with Jessica Biel. Jessica Biel is all types of win. ALL TYPES.

11:33: We’re at the director’s award…Sidney Poitier is on stage in all his vaingloriousness with Angelina Jolie in her fineness and Gravity took it. I haven’t seen it so I’m hatin’. Not really. From what I hear the movie was amazing.

11:41: And we’re nearing the end of the show. This show needs some rappers. Anyway…the Oscar for Best Actress in a Leading Role….Cate Blanchett. For somebody from Australia, she’s done a good job kickin’ that accent.

11:48: Matty M takes the best actor prize. He did a great job in that movie. Also leads to the conspiracy that we can’t get but too many in one night. Not really a conspiracy though. I’ve been drankin’.

11: 56: Motherf*cker, 12 Years A Slave wins Best Picture.

And I’ve given all I have.

Godpseed and good night.


The Bougie Black Girl’s Mount Rushmore

Does she make the mountain?

Does she make the mountain?

For anyone who still doubts Olivia Pope is the patron saint of Bougie Black Girls, last night’s episode of Scandal is all the evidence you’ll need to change your mind. Watching her is like playing a game of Bougie Black Bingo. Every two minutes you get a new opportunity to check off a new section.

Lives in D.C.? Check!

Is a daddy’s girl? Check!

Has a “team” and speaks about “brands” and “branding” and “brand management” and how “brands will make her dance”? Check!

Gets visibly wet when men say things like “I can’t win without you” to her? Check!

May be a functioning alcoholic? Check!

Basically, although she’s a fictional character, she’s an easy choice for the Bougie Black Girl’s Mount Rushmore. But she’s just one person. A Mt. Rushmore needs four people. Who’d be the other three? Of all the women Bougie Black Girls love, emulate, stalk, and occasionally fantasize about, who’s the most deserving of a spot on the mountain?

Let’s see.

Michelle Obama

An easy choice, FLOTUS flower bomb basically has the Bougie Black Girl’s dream life. Limited power and access. A Gilt-inspired wardrobe. Beautiful daughters named after yoga poses. Brunch dates with Beyonce. A corporate husband with a name Blacker than the Blackest Black barber shop owner.

Lupita Nyong’o

No one in the history of Bougie Blackness has risen faster than the beautiful burgeoning actress. This time last year, no one knew if “Lupita Nyong’o” was the name of an actress or a Korean nail shop with takeout BBQ. But now, after her star-making turn in 12 Years a Slave and stunning appearances on literally everyone’s red carpet (Seriously, I’m considering buying a red carpet from Target tomorrow just to see if she shows up.), she may be the only person in Bougie Black Girl history with an approval rating at 126,000%.



Despite being regular Black, Beyonce is the Bougie Black Girl’s creative and sexual muse, using her music as an excuse to release repressed sexual urges, turning “game nights” into “awkward public twerk contests featuring NSBE board members and certified public accountants.” Also, her insistence on never, ever, ever, ever, ever sitting down is the main reason why Bougie Black Girls never seem to have enough chairs in their apartments.

***Honorable mention: Issa Rae, Ashley Banks, every character Nia Long and Sanaa Lathan have ever played, Melissa Harris-Perry, Shonda Rhimes, Claire Huxtable, Angela Nissel, Angela Bassett, Mae Jemison, post 1998 to pre 2008 Oprah Winfrey, Eve (not Eve the rapper, but Eve from the Bible)***

Did I miss anyone? Or rather, is there anyone else who should be on the mountain?

—Damon Young (aka “The Champ”)

Two Thoughts About The Reactions To Pharrell’s GIRL Album Cover


1. It’s been two years since Trayvon Martin was murdered. A couple weeks since a jury let Jordan Davis’ killer off the hook for murder. Eight months since I watched Fruitvale Station. These and other notable stories about the tenuousness of Black male life have dominated (and will likely continue to dominate) our conversations about what it means to be present in America. Black males are both endangered and dangerous. Threats and targets. Feared and scared. Policed and…privileged.

Yes. Privileged.

This (obviously) does not apply to all Black males. But, for many who’ve, by the grace of God, managed to make it to their 20s, managed to be employable, and managed to stay out of the system, the tides change. People will support and root for you just because you’re a living Black man with a job and a driver’s licence. Someone might even create a job for you. You have social capital. If you brush your teeth, tie your shoes, and can put two sentences together, you’ll likely have romantic options. You will always be included.

This privilege is also tenuous. You’re still a Black man in America, which means it can be lost forever at a traffic light. Or at a movie theater. But it exists. And the mental juxtaposition of possessing this micro-level privilege while existing in a hostile country can be jarring, comforting, and humbling. Sometimes all at the same time. It can also make you a prick.

I thought about this yesterday when reading some of the reactions to Pharrell’s GIRL album cover. More specifically, I thought about how, when I first saw it, I didn’t think anything of it at all. I clicked on a link, said “Oh, I guess Pharrell has a new album” and went about my day. The “Black male artist surrounding himself with racially ambiguous women…again” thing didn’t even register with me.

A small part of this is due to the fact that I don’t pay much attention to Pharrell. I like his music, but I like it the same way I like grapes and pillowcases. The bigger part is due to me just not being as sensitive to the context making that cover upsetting to (many) Black women. I looked at it and saw an artist trying to convey a sexy type of “fun.” Others saw another example of a prominent Black man shunning his sizable Black female fan base and promoting “other” women as some sort of feminine ideal.

Just as I didn’t intentionally overlook how potentially troublesome that image could be, I’m sure Pharrell didn’t consciously want to insult Black women. He’s probably laying in some hyperbaric chamber below a lake right now, shocked at the pushback it’s received. And both my lack of awareness and Pharrell’s lack of consideration is a result of privilege. It didn’t immediately register to me because I’m not as sensitive to those types of images, and I’m not as sensitive to those types of images because I’ve never had to be. Sure, when someone points it out, I recognize it. And, I’ll even join the “yeah..that’s effed up” chorus. But, despite whichever challenges I face as a Black man, having my sexual/physical/aesthetic value and desirability constantly dismissed (or even ignored) — often by the same people I love and support — is something I’ve never really had to deal with.

2. This conversation brings up another point; a point that makes you wonder if a person like Pharrell or Kanye is caught in a perpetual catch-22.

GIRL’s cover features Pharrell and three women in bathrobes. It looks like they’re in a hotel room. Maybe a private home or resort. It’s (somewhat) implied that they’ve either just finished a foursome, or they’re about to go have a foursome. (8:20 am edit: So, according to some comments here and on Facebook, the cover may also suggest they’re just headed to some type of spa. Which doesn’t negate my main point, but does prove I was raised on Cinemax After Dark.) If this is true, they’re his sexual props, and it would qualify as objectification. Maybe it’s not as explicit as “Tip Drill”, but the idea is the same: “I’m a cool motherfucker. So cool that all these beautiful women want to have sex with me.”

With videos like “Tip Drill”, the objectification was the problem. With the GIRL cover, though, the problem seems to be that Black women aren’t considered attractive enough to be objectified. But, sexual objectification is a bad thing. As is using women as sexual props. Right? Or is it only a bad thing when it’s not done tastefully by someone as cool as Pharrell?

I’d try to answer those questions, but I think I just gave myself a nosebleed. Where’s a hyperbaric chamber when you need one?

—Damon Young (aka “The Champ”)

The People I Hate The Most…by Panama Jackson

Dear the following groups of people,

0A276E0C-1F70-4532-90174222A94B06D7I hate you. And don’t misunderestimate my use of the word hate. I don’t mean it in a “just really get annoyed” type of way. Nope, I have real, visceral feelings towards you. I’d like to pull off your toenails and feed them to llamas while I make you recite every line Morgan Freeman has ever uttered in a movie in Samuel Jackson’s voice. I want to blow dandelion pollen into your face and make you drink skim milk from a saucer. Not even a ceramic one either, like a paper saucer.

Who are you people who are part of the following groups of people for which I addressed this letter by myself, Panama Jackson? You people are the following groups of people:

 People who read while walking

Listen up motherf*cker. I understand that the book you’re reading is so stupendous that you can’t put it down. It’s probably some bullsh*t Malcolm Gladwell wrote. I get it. Read like the wind, grasshopper. But look where the f*ck you are going. Seriously. If you’re a woman you already can’t walk in a straight line when you’re paying attention (yeah, I said it. Shots fired.) But now you’re engrossed in some sh*t that has taken your full attention, meanwhile I’m just trying to get to my final destination without bumping into random motherf*ckers I see in the street, but noooooooooooooooo…here you go, zig zagging like you learned something about how not to get shot from watching Ricky get shot in Boyz N The Hood. And that’s great, don’t get shot and sh*t. In fact, again, read like the wind, grasshopper. Just don’t make ME be the one who has to play minefield with your monkey ass because you’re all over the damn sidewalk. THEN have the nerve to look at me like I got in your way. Eat burnt toast. Sucka nword you can stunt all you wanna stunt, I know you won’t buss a gun yeah punk I’m talkin’ to you!

People who refuse to budge and make room on sidewalks

I won’t say exactly who, but if you want to see what rhymes with sprite friveledge in all its glory, just walk on any sidewalk towards a group of sprite people and you will find yourself engulfed in a game of chicken. One of you is going to have to move so that nobody has to walk in the grass, since you know, sidewalk and sh*t. But I’ll bet you all the 40 acres and mules that the sprite people will NOT move one bit and will EXPECT you to step into the grass so as to not disrupt their gait. Granted, this also works in the kingdom of ninjadom too if the roles are reversed, but since there’s no such thing as Black privilege I’m not even sure what to call it. Payback? The Washington Generals winning a game? Me no know. But if there is a group of Black men (in particular) walking and a white man approaching, that white man is getting THE f*ck out of the way. What I need to see is a group of white males and a group of Black males approaching one another on a small sidewalk. I’m guessing that WESSSYDE Story breaks out. F*ck everybody who won’t move to invoke either sprite frivelege or payback.

And speaking of motherf*ckers who won’t move…

Bicyclists who think that having the right of way means everybody should pay attention but them

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, especially in DC, I hate motherf*ckers on bicycles. Mostly because there is this entitlement that just because you’re saving the environment AND exercising AT THE SAME DAMN TIME you are better than me. You’re only not dying at the hands of my fiberglass molding because the law says its illegal. If you don’t pay attention, that’s not my fault. If I’m making a right turn and YOU come flying past me on my right hand side and almost get kilted, IT IS YOUR F*CKING FAULT, NOT MINE. But you wanna get in your feelings because I’m supposed to pay attention to where you are at all times? Get a bell, b*tch. My car is rock and your bike is scissors. I will crush you. The big guy doesn’t have to know where the little guy is ESPECIALLY when he doesn’t even know the little guy exists. But you are on the road. You know there are cars. Just pay attention dilweed. Because if you talk sh*t from your bike its not like a more unbalanced mofo WON’T try to run you down.

People crossing the street while I have the green light bc pedestrians always have the right of way

Speaking of not respecting machinery. If your monkey ass sees that I have a green light AND AM ON THE WAY THROUGH THE LIGHT, do NOT attempt to try to beat me just because you’ve got nothing better to do with your time than a potential assisted suicide. For one, that’s just f*ckign rude. Ask a n*gga, first. For b, The fastest runners in the world clock in around 23/24 MPH, with Usain Bolt getting upwards of 27 MPH. You are no Usain Bolt. But do you know who is? My car. My car whips Usain Bolt’s ass. Look, you have the right of way. I get it. I really do. But do you know why they put the flashing white man and red man on street corners? For order. It reduces chaos. So when I have a green light, a color designated to me by the somebody as my indication to move forward, and I’m moving forward as indicated and allowed, legally, when you attempt to thwart this freedom, I feel all angsty and sh*t. I do not like feeling angsty. F*cking stop it.

You groups of people are the ones I hate the most. I would love it if you would all kick rocks with open toed sandals.






Panama Jackson

Those are the people/groups of people I hate the most? What you got?


Bougie Black Pick-Up Lines

"You've been Black Girl Running in my mind all night long."

“You’ve been Black Girl Running in my mind all night long.”

Today is Valentine’s Day, a day which likely means one of six things to you:

1. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

2. Absolutely nothing.

3. Absolutely nothing, but since you have a girlfriend/wife who’s all !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! about it, you pretend enough for one exclamation point.

4. Subdued happiness. Maybe Valentine’s Day isn’t your favorite day, but it’s cool. And it’s the one day you get to wear red pants without people thinking you’re Dominican.

5. Anxiety. You’re in a new situationship, and what happens today will determine the health and direction of it.

6. Sadness. Long, lonely, lecherous, getting to the McDonald’s drive-thru a minute after they’ve stopped serving Egg McMuffins, type sadness.

If you’re one of the first four, today’s post isn’t for you.

If you’re #5, let me give you some unsolicited advice. You know what day comes after Valentine’s Day? Saturday. Which, like Valentine’s Day, is just another day. Repeat after me: Just another day.

If you’re number #6, listen up. I don’t believe in pep talks. Shit, some days I don’t even believe in talking. I do believe in practical advice, though. And since you’re not currently in a relationship, I’m going to help you find one. Well, maybe you won’t find one.

But (piggybacking off #activistpickuplines), if you happen to be out today, and you see someone you’re interested in, and you suspect this someone is a Bougie Black Person, here are a few things you can say that’ll help your luck.

1. “Let me stamp that passport.”

2. “Did you get those jeans from Target? Cause there’s a bullseye on dat ass.”

3. “Do you like Thai food?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Cause I’m gonna Thai dat ass up.”

4. “Damn, girl. I’d like to Jack your Jill.”

5. “The only Foreign Exchange we’ll need is my ass on your face.”

6. “The gallery crawl in my pants is free all night long.”

7. “You know what NSBE stands for, right?”


“N*ggas Sexin Bitches’ Ears.”

8. “I bet you love leaving big tips, don’t you?”

9. “Eight inches is the only number I’m trying to keep down.”

10. “It’s a Different World from where I come from. And in my bedroom.”

11. “I know you’re natural, girl, but come here and lemme relax you.”

12. “I’m gonna displace those panties. Call me the gentrifier.”

13.”The only gladiator I know is being glad I ate her.”

14. “Why don’t you and your friend come over, and we can have an all-night Groupon.”

15. “Is that a gluten-free lettuce wrap in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”

16. “You remind me of my Naked Juice. Cause I want to substitute you for a meal.”

Did I forget any?

—Damon Young (aka “The Champ”)