I’ve been mad since 2012 when it was announced that Zoe Saldana was playing you and I saw the pictures of ‘you’ in blackface. Oh miss Nina, I’m so sorry they did that to you.
Those of us who know, who you taught through your life and your music are heartbroken. I have no real opinion of Zoe Saldana, you know how there’s always gong to be someone who doesn’t know. Someone not invested in your community. Not interested in how your art and activism for Black people, who you so loved, was integral to your being. Someone who’s never been called ugly because they were Black or had any barriers placed before them because of how they looked. It wasn’t her story to tell, she should have said no, but she’ll learn…if she’s interested. She’s in a really terrible situation and Hollywood is on some real bullshit right now. The days of reckoning you talked about are upon us. The frequent quote about her is that she “gave her heart and soul” to the performance to which I say, so what? She should have said no. She’s not the artist for this. She hasn’t seen enough, but then again, I don’t know that girl.
But let’s deal with the thing that I love most. Context.
They took you out of context and for that I’m sorry
& they don’t know about Mississippi at all anymore. Goddamn indeed.
I found this today and it cracked me up. The irony is, the only way she calls me back if I don’t pay rent. I’ve changed names to protect myself from some sort of internet business I can’t even conceive of now but will no doubt exist to ruin my life eventually.
March 9, 2003
This is regarding the current status of Blah Blah Blah Avenue Top Floor. In an 8 July 2003 letter I asked for a plumber and an exterminator.
In December I called LANDLADY asking for a plumber. There was a plumbing situation in the kitchen that when “repaired” by a plumber I called exacerbated the situation to include my DOWNSTAIRS NEIGHBOR. DOWNSTAIRS NEIGHBOR was placed in charge of finding someone to repair the situation. In February, after asking LANDLADY to please send someone out, I called several other plumbers myself and the problem was resolved.
Monday March 3, 2003 DOWNSTAIRS NEIGHBOR stated he could hear the water in his ceiling after me taking a bath. Which is ironic, because the water runs so slow out of the bathtub I was beginning to believe it was just evaporating because of the oven being on to blow warm air into the front rooms where it’s so cold I often have to wear a hat inside.
So again I’m requesting a plumber. There are serious plumbing/ pipe issues here requiring more than tenants making calls to “people they know” or cold calling from the phone book to rectify.
I also need an exterminator. I haven’t had one here in years.
I also need a written statement regarding the rent increase. I’m not comfortable paying more rent without having a signed agreement. I appreciate the leniency shown me with my belated payments, but that leniency is a two way street. I understand this is a business arrangement and if I didn’t before, the disregard for my comfort and dignity regarding the kitchen sink and the previous requests for an exterminator have made it abundantly clear that my humanity is not a concern of yours. So you have to do what you have to do as do I. I believed LANDLADY when she said she’d look into sending someone out. I called her begging for a plumber, I only get a call from her regarding the rent. I see now that that’s perhaps the only way to communicate with you. I hope that isn’t the case and I’m mistaken. Please let me know if this is an incorrect assumption.
Look, I’ve been avoiding all this Tiger Woods business until I read a really great blog about it today on the heels of talking about “important” news stories I’d missed the last couple of weeks with my kid sister. While I had to google Adam Lambert (I don’t Idol), I knew that Tiger’d been in a car accident. Megalomaniacal me said “nobody cares when I hurt myself” so I ignored it.
Then I started hearing about affairs, mistresses coming out of the woodwork, the wife chasing him with golf clubs and smashing windows. That’s interesting, but no. I’m going to remain on my moral high ground and continue to ignore. I’ve lived through enough sex scandals to know that unless someone’s been living under the bed in a dog collar, it’s just fodder.
I told The Kid last night that if one of the mistresses was named Darshawnqa with long airbrushed nails and hair sculpture- then I’d be interested. But this morning I read this from one of my favorite blogs and I paused (and laughed at the video). But only long enough to write this post.
In conclusion, he’s 33 years old and been playing professional golf since he was a teen. He hasn’t had a life. Leave him alone. Who cares. Now I’m part of the problem, but enough is enough already. He likes pussy. Let him be. He’s not the first or last professional athlete to cheat. I think the over arching statement of pro athletes should be that they’re going to cheat on their spouses. The ones that don’t- they’re the exceptions. If I went from town to town with women throwing themselves at me- I’d probably be too tired to even play whatever game I’m getting paid for.
Your husband and his people have been sending me emails for months now. I was sure you’d caught on because then you started sending them me too. After the election, well I thought we’d put this all behind us. But unfortunately, I’m still receiving emails and, well, I thought you should know.
You looked so lovely and happy at the inauguration I thought we could put these minor dalliances behind us. But they continue. I need you to be understanding about this, because I NEED you to be with your old man. You’re too important to a battalion of highly educated black girls who have all formerly had (and currently have) perms and have all enjoyed 4 wings with mild sauce from Harold’s, if you know what I mean.
But I would appreciate if you could get them to stop with the emails. I appreciate the updates, but I do read Huffington Post.
P.S. I love you in a clean reverent “leader of my free world” way, that’s all. Make sure you tell Michelle that. I’m just saying, ’cause I don’t want her coming after me. I mean, I do have the weight advantage, but with height and arm length and strength- she’s got me beat. I, also, can’t pull my “I’m from the South Side of Chicago” intimidation routine on her. I know for a fact that if she though I was really trying something, she’d CUT MY FUCKING HEART OUT. So, it’s a platonic love. And it’s a true love.
Dear Nadya Suleman (or Crazy Baby Machine, or Crazy Clown Car Uterus Lady, as I affectionately call you),
While I can sympathize with not having a job and wanting to be on TV, I have to ask if having a litter of babies is the most effective way to do that? I mean, I don’t like kids particularly, I guess I could start there. When I heard you had 8 babies at one time, I was like “Whoa man. That’s a lot of babies!” Then I heard you ALREADY HAD 6 AT HOME, didn’t have a job and lived with your mom. Then I was all “WTF? Is this bitch crazy?”
No, really. What The Fuck? Are you mad? I watched that Ann Curry interview and you sound crazy as cat shit. How are you really going to provide for those kids? Your loving presence does not diapers make. And you don’t have udders despite your litter of kids.
You seem to be a religious woman. You had six miracles despite your bad plumbing. Maybe, as a way of course correction your tubes were blocked for a reason. I know that’s mean, but look what you did when you superseded the natural order of your particular body. You were given a gift.
Monkey’s aren’t pets. Chimpanzee’s aren’t people. You can’t feed it, get it liquored up, have it BRUSH YOUR HAIR and not expect it to go APE SHIT on somebody. That’s where the term APE SHIT came from I think.
And on top of all of that, the thing that really is heartbreaking is that- the chimp had to die. The chimp that was probably a little tipsy and on Xanax. The chimp who has been turned into a surrogate human in a bunch of really messed up ways by this poor disturbed woman, had to get shot (after being stabbed and hit with a shovel).