October 2017

My outrage couldn’t let me just repost my original piece, as was my first inclination.  I had to update this, cuz this ape faced muthafucka wants an additional THIRTY FIVE THOUSAND DOLLARS PER MONTH from our Queen.  This trash heap originally requested $129,319, but only – ONLY – got $30k, after destroying his marriage by fucking a woman he brought into his wife’s professional and personal life, but what’s a little betrayal when you have bananas to buy? This nigger, cuz ignorant, claims that she has $275,476 a month just laying around that she can pay him in the form of spousal support.  Why does he think he is entitled to more of her money? Because this cancer, the disease, not the sign, claims he cannot find work since Mary has slandered him in interviews and her music, which is usually happy, but is only sad because she is getting divorced.  His claim is not totally without merit.  In a September interview Mary had said: “I thought someone loved me, right? Turns out, he was a con artist and he didn’t, and now he’s coming after me for all my money,” she said while promoting her film Mudbound. “When you come out of something like that, you realize you were never the one. There was someone else that was his queen. I got played. I got suckered. I have to keep smiling and keep my spirits up because this is designed to kill me.” WHERE IS THE LIE? Raise your hand if you heard of Kendu Isaacs prior to him marrying her.  Raise your hand if you knew what J-O-B  Kendu had prior to her.  Raise your hand if you know that on his watch Mary did an ill advised Burger King commercial or that she sang an awkward hymn in front of Hillary Rodham Clinton that embarassed all the saints and ancestors.  Perhaps THOSE are among the reasons that you cannot find work, you diseased rhinoceras pizzle.  Im sitting up here wondering why he can’t make no money offa his slutheffa Starshell aka WE WILL NEVER BUY YOUR MUSIC CUZ YOU CAME FOR THE QUEEN.  Probably because he knows we will never buy her music cuz she came for the queen.  It takes a special kind of low life human form of herpes to ingratiate your hoe to your wife.  And it takes a special kind of fucking moron to mess up your meal ticket when you aint got shit else. I wasn’t there and I don’t know what happened.  I don’t know if she started tooting blows again.  I don’t know if he got some Superhead.  I don’t know if her and KC had a later dinner and word got back.  I don’t know if he found out that Caesar from Planet of the Apes is his real dad and she wasn’t into beastiality. But I do know, that he signed a pre-nup, which should be a non-contestable, iron-clad, document regardless of what genitalia the signers possess. And another thing I know, is that there are many, some may even say, myriad things that I would do #BeforeIGaveKendu, one thin dime of money outside of what we agreed to prior to marrying – here those things are, in no particular order. His Initial Requests:     Sarah Huckabee Sanders would get all my money for a makeover #BeforeIGaveKendu $5.732k for groceries. Every bookstore/website in #murrica would get all my money for every existing and pre-order copy of every book Bill O’Reilly ever wrote #BeforeIGaveKendu $8k for a private chef. KellyAnne Conway would get all my money to teach a seminar on honesty in media #BeforeIGaveKendu $1k for clothes to cover his ashy ass. RKelly would get all my money to watch my 14 year old niece for the summer #BeforeIGaveKendu $5k to continue paying his parents each month. The Kardashian’s would get all my money to found The Institute to Preserve Black Men #BeforeIGaveKendu $71k for his rental properties. Newscorp would get all my money to help settle the myriad sexual harassment lawsuits levvied against them #BeforeIGaveKendu $5k to support HIS two youngest children.  Mona Scott Young would get all my money to start her own network #BeforeIGaveKendu $2.5k for auto expenses and transportation.  I’d pay 21 Savage to fuck me #BeforeIGaveKendu $5.708k for maintenance and repair on his properties. Charlie Sheen would get all my money in exchange for some unprotected Tiger Blood lovin #BeforeIGaveKendu $21.677k for charitable donations. By no means is this list exhaustive, just a reference point for how a man, who had a career – allegedly- before we met, I went on to hire, kept on after we married, and showed his gratitude by letting his hoe lay up in his wife’s house, wouldn’t get one dime over what we agreed to prior to marrying. Dick up, Loser. What would you give all your money to before his fugly ass?  Hit them comments!  

NOTE:  If you are a huge Queen Sugar fan, you are going to want to watch the video at the end.  And I don’t mean huge like “I watch every week.”  I mean HUGE.  That’s all I can say….. Hey Y’all Hey! This is not a recap – so don’t look for any insight or deep thoughts. All you can expect from my Sweet Nothings franchise is the bullshit that runs through my head during the show.  So I don’t wanna hear NO SHIT bout what I didn’t cover, nor address.  #letsgo  Aunt Vi ol’ sage ass.  Staying out of RA and Darla’s wedding.  #loveshe “Not if we ain’t playing out the same playbook!” SAY THAT SHIT NOVA. Whose zoomin who, Davis? Wanting that ol thing back face fool. “Father Neglect” done hit up the Brown Sugar Fest, y’all. Scrabble Date Bitches! <3 Robert Foreman is fine as fuck. Micah!  Boy you better text me when you finna walk thru my gotdamn door with your punk ass daddy! Speaking of punk ass daddies, Davis could you leave? Okay, thanks for the tips Davis, now again, could you leave? Um, no thanks but Imma kid, so Imma call you Mr. West.  Who raised you Davis? Landry done shut down the damn roads.  Do he have Jesus on the Mainline? Cuz he made it rain that day too. oh RA, men be ready to do anything until they hear what anything entails. Ra? Nova?  Y’all know damn well how Davis hoe ass knows Tamar Judith. Speaking of which, Charlie aint like that shit.  Sitting in the corner, watching her sing over her glasses, eating her banana? Nah, she didnt like that shit at all. I wanna see great things for Darla. TAKE DAT KISS DAVIS!  IN YO FACE! Come thru Ms. Kiki Raymond Shepard! Nova better get with Robert and get their Mary Matalin and James Carville on. Oh wait…James accepts Mary just as she is, unlike Robert…never mind. “I shouldn’t have to disappear into you to make it work” – strumming my pain with his fingers “You’re a good man, but you’re no good for me.” – singing my life with his words “I don’t need you to dream for me.” – killing me softly with his song Tamar may not be a big deal, but Robert Foreman is, Davis.  IN YOU FACE TWO TIMES. Dis nigga sorry. #foh PREVIEW: Oh Lordt, is these people not finna make it to the altar?  Prolly not huh? AND NOW THE MOMENT YOU HAVE  BEEN WAITING FOR!  

I am a daughter , a niece, a sister, an aunt – to men.  So what you are about to read will not be a full scale indictment on men, but it’s definitely about them, because they are from whom my experiences hail.  Harvey Weinstein, not unlike Bill Cosby, Woody Allen, Bill O’Reilly, and Roger Ailes, and his many many alleged – and you know why I typed alleged – assaults have brought sexual misconduct to the forefront of the cultural zeitgeist.  Whenever something like this happens, we all sit and wonder; some of us, why it wasn’t reported earlier, later, sooner, quicker to the police, their spouses, their human resources department or their friends; and some of us wonder how the rest of us are sitting questioning something they have obviously never been through; cuz honestly, if you knew better, you would do, think and say better. This morning I joined the #metoo movement, where women from all walks of life, aged sixteen to sixty and poverty stricken to posh ladies who lunch, have recounted their harassment or maybe even rape at the hands of our number enemy, a predatory man.  Waking up to all those hashtagged posts made me recount, not so much my own situation, but the REACTION to my situation. Earlier this year I was a weekly contributor to a morning radio show here in Chicago.  During one of my earliest segments, which I believe was about Dr. Cosby, I recounted my story.  It involved a co-worker I’d known at that point over 10 years, a beloved one. If I had to guess, I’d say this person was pretty beloved throughout Chicago.  It’d been some time since I’d seen him, so when he invited me to lunch, I happily accepted.  He told me to sit tight, that he was going to get his car and to meet him outside.  About 10 minutes later or so, he pulled up and I jumped in the passenger seat.  We engaged in some light banter and shit talkin – the kind only old pals can have.  Now, we worked in a pretty populated area, with restaurants as far as the eye can see, so when we began to make our descent on to Lower Wacker, I was confused, but not worried.  In fact, I wasn’t even worried when he mentioned that we were driving under a co-worker’s building, to which I replied: “I did not know that.” To which he replied: “Here’s what I know…I need you to kiss me right now.” What followed wasn’t physical, but it was extremely uncomfortable.  He began to explain how much he wanted me and how much he’d always wanted me.  How his wife was out of town and probably wouldn’t mind anyway. How hot I was.  How many times he had to calm himself down when he saw me.  I was having zero parts of that fuckshit and demanded he drive me back up stairs.  He finally did, after attempting to plead his case.  Once I was back safely in the view of folks, as if a woman can ever be truly safe in public, he meekly apologized and I boldly told him to fuck the fuck off and don’t ever… So imagine my horror at the reactions to this story, told in an effort to explain, educate, or edify how assault doesn’t have to always be reported and can come from the disheveled man following a woman home from the bus stop or the jock that just wants you to have one more beer before heading to his dorm, a woman can be hurt, and sometimes likely so, by someone she knows and trusts.  BAyBAAAY, believe me when I tell you, them no good ass niggas listening to that show wasn’t having NO parts of it. A sampling of responses: “I don’t believe the hoes.” – Jacob “Not sure about Mya’s thinking.” – Kathy “She’s an example of an angry black women [sic] let me see if I can find Jesus for her.” – Kenneth “Mya, just answer the question, who goes to the Playboy Mansion for a job interview.” – Shapearl “Not one woman told a friend, a parent, a family member? They all kept quiet?” – Maurice “Yes, it’s very confusing…don’t dress suggestively and don’t think no one isn’t going to say something…once he put his hands in [sic] your or take it to another level then there’s a problem.” – Henry (yeah, he wants to put his hands IN you if you dare wear something that tempts his ability to keep his hands OUTSIDE of you) and then came this, the following week, when I hadn’t insulted their Hero Bill, wasn’t talkin nothing close to nothing about that man when this brain surgeon left this comment.  Yes Ladies and Gentlemen, from Mr. I Dont Believe the Hoes, himself, Jacob…   Why, yes Professor Jacob, that was me talking about getting “took” under “walker.”  I’m not sure why I should stop though.  Does getting in the car with someone I trust mean that I am not qualified as a thinking person with ideas and issues to discuss?  Did I deserve for a friend to come at me so aggressively out of absolutely no where because I accepted his lunch date?  Probably should have fleshed that whole “date” part of “lunch date” more carefully.  Huh?  Dumb me.  Unlike Rex Tillerson and his boss, I am 100% unafraid, unencumbered, unapologetic and unable to NOT call you exactly what you are…a fucking moron. See Myalogists, this is just a bit of the feedback and the majority of the problem.  Not one caller that day questioned the actions of the man.  No one wondered why he would do that to someone who trusted him, someone that considered him a friend.  But they had all the time and keyboard fingers in the world for me.  And those answers and responses are why friends, co-workers, priests, fathers, athletes, black entertainment icons and powerful Hollywood executives