Felice Belle is a poet, playwright and the former curator and host of the Friday Night Slam series at the Nuyorican Poets Cafe in New York City. Recently, she created original poetry for the play History of the Word produced by the Vineyard Theatre. She writes the Stakes is High, column which appears on Sundays.
As a black woman with a blog column, I somehow felt obligated to address the whole Don Imus situation, when all I really want to do this week is write about poetry.
Thankfully, Snoop Dogg stepped up and made an official statement, Oprah held a two-day Town Hall meeting and Don Imus was fired, so technically I’m off the hook.
Let’s talk about poems.
With 3.3.million viewers, Flavor of Love 2 was the highest rated series debut on VH1 until it was bested by its spin-off I Love New York, which netted 4.43 million viewers.
Clearly VH1 hopes to strike ratings gold with the newest addition to the franchise — Flavor of Love Girls: Charm School.
Charm School will follow thirteen of the “breakout stars” from Flavor of Love, seasons one and two, as they compete in self improvement and etiquette-based challenges. The last woman standing will win $50,000 to help her achieve her life’s dream.
According to the video blogs on the VH1 website, Serious (not her real name) hopes to start a non-profit called Be A Role Model, while Smiley (also a fake name) aspires to “teach all of America […] to be their sexy selves” through the art of pole dancing.
On Monday, March 26, 2007 Britney Spears had a toothache and went to the dentist.
On Tuesday March 27, 2007 a truck bomb exploded in Iraq, killing 152 people and wounding 347.
You might dismiss this as apples to oranges, but last week both of these events qualified as news.
Surprisingly, I only heard about one of them.
“She’s like so whatever.”
– Avril Lavigne, from the single Girlfriend.
Never before has a song lyric been used to communicate so little.
p.s. Full disclosure: Two days after posting this, I made Girlfriend the song on my myspace page. Damn you and your catchy pop music, Avril.
We are a nation built on myth and legend. From Christopher Columbus’ discovery of already existing land to George Washington’s alleged inability to lie, the stories we tell ourselves become the foundation for the reality we create.
So it should come as no surprise that Hollywood continues to sell us fairytales. Nearly every romantic comedy created follows the once upon a time formula. Girl and boy meet, obstacles are overcome and in the end, an enchanted love prevails.
During my lunch period, I go to the local bodega to get honey turkey on roll with jack cheese and mayonnaise. No lettuce. No tomato.
Waiting by the register I notice Aunt Jemima pancakes in the frozen food case. I am outraged.
When I get back to school, I immediately email my friend Robb, “Why is Aunt Jemima still a brand?”
Robb responds, “Don’t even get me started on Uncle Ben.”
I graduated from high school the same year as Brenda, Brandon and the whole gang from West Beverly Hills High. I rooted for Kelly when she hooked up with Dylan, while Sophie B. Hawkins’ Damn I Wish I Was Your Lover underscored their oceanside infidelity. I shouted “Donna Martin graduates” at my television when the principal threatened to keep Tori Spelling from getting her diploma because of her drunken prom night antics. I have even, on occasion, shed a tear during particularly poignant episodes of Dawson’s Creek. (Laugh if you must, but the writing on that show was exquisite, especially during the first two seasons when Kevin Williamson was still the Executive Producer). I just want to make it clear that I love a teen melodrama in all its glory. Yet and still, I cannot understand why people I know and love and respect are watching The Hills.
