Quoting Olivia Benson

Hope for women everywhere.

Well, well, well.  Weiner Weiner the "Porn Tweeter" has finally stepped down.

I'm not one to get excited about the falls of the powerful.  On the contrary:  I'm not petty enough to relish the downfall of powerful men people, unless you make it funny, or your name is Eddie Long.  So I was not happy to see how now former Congressman Anthony D. Weiner (NY-09) disgraced his family legacy, his loving wife, and his committed constituents.  It brought me no joy to gawk at his towel-clad body in the Member's Only Gym, both because I do not take pleasure in such things, and he's not really hitting those biceps enough for me to care.

But let's be real: there is some funny ish involved here.  And I think it's my duty to point them out:

1. Don't you love it when people get indignant when they KNOW they're wrong?  

Weiner damn near cussed out a very pregnant Dana Bash and had the nerve to call a CNN producer a "jackass" on television. He engaged in such shenanigans, apparently unwilling to "dignify" these accusations with a response...because he has oh so much dignity left.  See all his dignity below:

Dignified Pose A.

Dignified Pose B.

It takes some huge balls (which Jon Stewart was surprised to find out, Mr. Weiner actually has...) to know fully well that you are lying--to your wife, to the press, to the people--and get tough with folks while denying it.  I expected nothing less from a man whose favorite pastime was once screaming on the House floor.  But at least then he was exhibiting passion about something that actually matters.  Health Care.  Earmarks.  I'd have liked to see a little more passion about those things, and a little less about his less than stellar pectoral muscles.

2.  Apparently, Bill Clinton married the Weiners.

You heard me.  The very essence of infidelity officiated the ceremony between Sir Anthony and his bride, Hilary Clinton top aide Huma Abedin.  This woman is gorgeous.  And smart.  And accomplished.  Which goes to show you that a wayward Weiner can screw anybody over.  (These puns really do write themselves.)

But did anybody think to tell them, before their wedding day, that it might not be the best idea to jinx their marriage like that?  Sure...having a former president officiate your wedding is pretty damn cool.  But I have to believe that someone in the wedding party, bride's family, or even the bride herself would at least have an ominous nightmare detailing, in no uncertain terms, why one of the most unfaithful men in the Western Hemisphere is not the best officiant.  If Bill ever came to my wedding, he'd have to sit in a dunce chair and wear tape over his mouth, cause there will be NO stained blue dresses in my husband's future.  A woman's got to take every precaution possible.  

So in a terribly strange twist of irony, Big Willie may have done Weiner in.  (Yep.  There's another one!  These are getting terrible...)

At least Huma has a shoulder to cry on in her boss.  I'm sure Hilary's advice sounds something like "Lots of pantsuits...make his ass pay...he'll help you run for president."

3.  "'Stand by your man' sounds a lot better when Tammy Wynette sings it."

Ahh--finally the Olivia Benson quote I promised you from jump.  I'm sure she was talking to an abused woman whose husband pimped her and turned her into a crack-addicted prostitute...but the concept still fits, and Mrs. Weiner gets it:

Huma stayed her pretty ass the hell home.  

And good for her.  I'm so sick of these clearly heartbroken women standing next to their husbands like they don't have anything better to do!  Honey--pull an Elin, leave town, and run up that credit card bill!  At the end of the day, you do him no favors by doing him the favor of publicly standing by him.  If you're really going to take responsibility, take it for yourself, BY yourself--simple as that.  Let him get yelled at (did you all hear that "bye by pervert?  Hilarious).  Let him get photographed and ridiculed.  You have no parts in that, and anything else is a cop out.

If there is any mystery about exactly how to publicly respond to your husband's infidelity, here's a cheat sheet:

My Name Ain't Tammy:

A Guide for the Scorned Woman.  

Politics Edition.

1. If your husband cheats on you with another woman and CONFESSES:  
1. Attend no press conferences.
2. Take a 2-week vacation to any Jay and Bey-qualified location (including, but not limited to Bora Bora, St. Tropez, and other exclusive Islands with names I'm not allowed to print.)  If asked, simply respond that you wish to "reconnect with yourself,"  but really, take as many girlfriends and have as much anonymous sex as you desire while there.
3. Make sure he buys one of these.  Money can be no object.  If he is confused, just tell him to tell the jeweler he's in the market for the "Kobe Special."  Whether or not you stay with him after purchase of said ring is irrelevant.  Get yours.
4. Make sure his dumb ass gets tested.  That's just common sense.
2. If your husband cheats on you with another woman and LIES:
1. Attend no press conferences.  
2. Extend the nominal 2-week vacation to one month.  Let him find out where you are via tabloid speculation and TMZ photos.  Take a man.  A gorgeous one--English-speakers optional.
3. Kobe Special.  Times 4. 
4. Make sure his dumb ass gets tested.  Leave him after said test.
5. IF YOU CHOOSE TO STAY:  Pull a Hilary and ensure that he devotes the rest of his life to (a) pull strings to get you elected and/or nominated to important posts, (b) cleans up his image, so as to not tarnish your chances, and (c) stays the hell away from you in public, so as to not tarnish your chances.
3. If your husband cheats on you with another man: 
1. Don't be this dumb broad.  He clearly doesn't like your lady parts.  Pack up and move on.  All in all, "it's Idaho.  There's nowhere to go but up."
4. If your husband is caught sexting:
1. Realize how pathetic a grown man is for needing to send naked pictures of himself to anonymous women.  Get out.  Kobe Special optional before departure.

I Hate This Sad Sack of Single (Part I)

"Raise your glasses ladies.  This sh*t may be awful, but at least we have jobs again..."
~Lisa "You betta call me LisaRaye" Raye

I tweet.


I do so rarely, but I do tweet.  It usually takes something of epic proportions (at least to me) to make me do so.  And do so I did last night, because #SingleLadies, VH1's new "Romantic Comedy" series, was effin terrible.  So bad that I had to use my 140 rarely-used characters to say just how much.


VH1 was plenty clever, airing the 2-hour premiere directly after the now beloved Basketball Wives season premiere, thereby catching a lot of women who like trashy television for the second show.  


That, unfortunately, included me.  And Single Ladies had me.  For about 12 minutes.  By this time, I had discovered a few things to be true:


1. People throw around the term "romantic comedy" far too freely.  


And by people, I mean everyone involved with this show.  There are very few (if any) romantic comedies shot in an hour-long format.  And even fewer comedies of any kind shot in an hour-long, zero-laugh  format.  Seriously--there was nothing comic about this show.  It was a bunch of obvious one-liners, sad sistagurl jokes (delivered, oft time, by the white one, no less), and complete lack of comedic timing.


2.  I'm really pissed off at Queen Latifah.  


In my book, she can do no wrong.  Sure--she makes jazz albums that no one buys, and won't just come out already (Queen: ask Ellen--you can be here, be queer, and still be rich.  Who gives a crap?), but in reality, her singing voice is actually quite soothing and I could care less if she likes to snuggle up to another pair of twins. 


So again, I thought she could do no wrong.  That was, until I watched this show she produced. I just knew that with her name attached to it, it would have some artistic integrity.  After all, she's a Covergirl and a decently bankable star--with 30 Rock cameos and all: 



Fact of the matter seems to be, no matter how many times you star, guest star, or cameo in well made television and film, you can apparently still behave like you graduated from the Ice Cube School of Production when you get behind the lens.

To a friend of mine (shoutout to @Tookstastic), I described the show as "the ultimate combo of pretty people, famous people, and pretty famous people acting pretty poorly."  Her amusing and seemingly feasible retort?  "Should I watch it on mute?"  You'd think that would solve the problem--but even without sound, the hotmess.com that this show is would still be palpable.  


Poor production value has nothing to do with what you hear--you can tell a bad show without ever hearing a single word.  Log into your Netflix Watch Instantly account, choose "African Amerian Comedies" from the genre section, choose any of the "romantic comedies" you see (best to go with one named something like "Three Ways to Find a No-Good Man on the Down Low in the Lord's House.").  


Mute it.


Watch it.


Then, after you get over your shock/surprising happiness at seeing Leon working again, you'll notice exactly what I'm talking about.  It's like cinematography is an unheard of value...the sets are always totally unrealistic...I don't why black filmmakers love the soft-screen effects so much...and let's be honest: you can SEE overacting long before you hear it.  


And, despite Queen's experience in the world of quality film-making,  she falls victim to the same things.


3.  I'm also pissed off at Common.  


You have the chance to be a straight up, legit, mainstream star that hasn't abandoned black folk and black projects.  Scratch that.  WELL-MADE black projects.  (See:  Just Wright--not the perfect movie, but a HUGE step up from Single Ladies.) My beautiful Chi-Town boo, what the hell happened?  I am not pleased, no matter how much your freckles make me coo.


4. No matter how we try, black television may never return to its Cosby-Different World-Fresh Prince heyday.  In reality, those shows were bookended by Family Matters and In the House (poor, poor Maia Campbell...), so it's not as if everything was perfect.


But even with Shonda "Midas Touch" Rhimes on our side these days, it seems that we are stuck in the Meet The Browns-Single Ladies-The Game rut for a while to come.  


Hopefully Kerry Washington will save us.  I'm all for that.  (Note: I also want to be her.)