I went to see The Butler. I don’t wanna tell you what to do but you should go see it too. For awhile, I was going to see a lotta movies and finally, I got to see a good one when I saw The Butler.
For those who tried to see the video I recently posted, I apologize you didn’t get to see it. I, however, was able to see it at different locations on different computers. I don’t know what’s happening on your end. At one point, I couldn’t see it but I clicked something on YouTube and it popped up fine. Try clicking here to see what happens, if you like.
Anyhow, I didn’t come to talk about mucha nothing. I had myself a birthday. My feet don’t hurt anymore. I wasted grape juice on my carpet in the bedroom today. And I need to cut my grass. If cutting grass is up your alley, pay for yourself a background check and come cut it. I won’t be mad at you or nothing, Oh, I’m gonna get to paint up some real art over the weekend, so there’s my life, folks.
Well, I’m just gonna share a few new pieces of digital art that you weren’t able to see in the video, if you still couldn’t pull it up. I’ve been having fun with this amateur paint program and making these quick pieces.
Have yourself a good life as best you can but not however you can ’cause it may not go so well if you’re doing whatever. You can sum that advice up the best way you know how ’cause I’m not trying to figure out everything for you. Not that you asked but in case you were thinking to, don’t bother. (Wink, wink). Besides, it’s been a long day and I ain’t got time to be messing around on no blog. Whoever thought of this blog thing anyhow? Sure wished it had been me.
Totsy has decided to lay low, while I rise to fame. Get behind thee, Denzel and feel the breeze as I pass through but not too far, Baby. I really don’t mind a slight brush against the rear, okay?
I am loving myself today, people. Love is in the air, somewhere and so is racism. Isn’t that right, Paula? That’s Missus Dean, if you’re nasty and have a fluency in throwing racial epithets. You haven’t disappointed me, as I’ve been watching you closely before these revealing events came to Hollywood light. My southern queen of butter and heart attack food, I hope you’re held to the fire and burn on the witness stand. I hope the mirror that’s being held to you cracks and sends you to settle on your porch swing with knitting needles as you assess yourself. There’s nothing worse than getting caught and put on public blast for being yourself, is there Paula?
As for you, Melissa Etheridge, I want you to take back what you said about Angelina being a coward for undergoing a double mastectomy. No, that’s not the word you used but it boils down to the same thing. What I’d like to know is what does her decision about her body have to do with you? What makes you the queen of decision-making for women who may or not get breast cancer? I need you to take a back seat, put duct tape on it and mind your business. Stop judging Ms. Jolie based on what you decided to do with your body. We have enough of that going on in Washington, okay? Don’t make me get controversial on this blog. I’m here to flaunt my glory and here you are getting me into the neck-rolling business.
And last but not least, Oprah. I’m going to need you to cancel those Tyler Perry shows on your network. Yes, you’ve got serious programming issues, with enough self-help episodes to drive a person to eventually slit their wrist, but I really need you to pull the plug, rug or whatever. I’m just not feeling it…Ooh! Was that you, Denzel?