As the discord between the Writer’s Guild and the studios seems to surmount ever-more, I hear and read of a great many television watchers who feel cheated of the terrific programming they formerly enjoyed. But as readily as reality shows are placed in the spotlight of blame for their supplementary appeal in lieu of more “written” material, it is - to me - truly no wonder they have buttressed the strike so well: they got all the Flava, boyeeee!

I’ve been on 5 reality shows, two of which starred myself, one of which was a hit in Europe, one of which lasted three full seasons and had two successful spin-off series. Shit, one could argue I single-handedly reinvented VH1! I could.

Associated Press

I have to imagine that even the most unwavering of Montel Williams fans were troubled with the dude’s recent encounter with a high school newspaper intern. As I understand it, this is what he said to the teenage girl:

Don’t look at me like that. Do you know who I am? I’m a big star, and I can look you up, find where you live and blow you up.

Now, I wouldn’t call myself a publicist per se, but I see areas within this statement that might have benefited from a smidge of reconsideration. Specifically, I’m thinking about the word “star.” Here’s an impromptu revision; note how a minor substitution can considerably improve an argument’s cohesiveness!

Auspicious news! The meow-down turned catfight that occurred between Saaphyri and H-Town on Flavor of Love has been nominated by the Fox Reality Awards for the category of “Favorite Fight.” This is a highly regarded accolade, indeed; last year’s winner was the legendary Pumpkin vs. New York battle, which also happened to be on Flavor of Love.

As a side note, I found it interesting that rather than extend her congratulations, the columnist who penned the article attempted to defile the good news by interjecting her own pedantic chauvinism:

Clearly, Flavor Flav has built a veritable dynasty of memorably trashy reality moments.

Fair enough, columnist, but what matters most here is that I’ve built a fucking dynasty. People who build dynasties are remembered throughout the ages, if I’m not mistaken. Perhaps there are those who find mine to be a trashy dynasty, but while time will obscure those little details, my celebrity will live on.

I would be interested to see what would happen should we ever decide to stop giving that dude from U2 so much damn attention. Would the tiresome save-the-world routine endure sans spotlight?

In some ways, Bono reminds me of Cadillac, the golden retriever we owned when I was just a kid kickin’ up dust. As a puppy, Cadillac was a perfectly adequate pet – with the possible exception of the combination lazy eye and the black patch under his nose that I always felt made him a candidate for a lost Marx brother. (Mother, overhearing me make this observation one day, began referring to Cadillac as “Karl Barx,” simultaneously exposing her predilection for trite puns as well as her inexcusable confusion in the realms of culture and history.)

By middle age, Cadillac had become better than adequate; he was good. He made habit of alerting authority figures to potential hazards and mischief. Innumerable calamities down by the creek were averted. He soon became the subject of features in the local newspaper and on the nightly news, and in turn, his altruistic behavior began increasing in scope and frequency. Before we knew it, Cadillac was preventing armed robberies, unraveling international terrorist plots, and donating incredible sums of money to fight poverty and AIDS in Africa. Meanwhile, we was buggin’. His didacticism was beyond obnoxious, and even Mother grew nauseous at his flagrant and incessant self-righteousness.

Dear homeboys of India,

I understand – nay I empathize — with your desire to be successful with the females. I truly do. I cannot, however, endorse your most recent bird-dogging methodology involving this skin-whitening product.

Reader(s), your advice for once would be appreciated. I’m considering making a donation to the J6LDF (Jena 6 Legal Defense Fund.) My accountant informs me I may not be in a position financially in which I should be expending cheese on charities – he continues to mention my kids for some reason – but this is a case I feel strongly about. Racial equality is at stake! And the integrity of our nation’s justice system! And lil’ Jena… she only six years old!

Okay maybe I haven’t really been following the details of this case, but regardless, I feel obliged to make a donation. Why? David Bowie. If Bowie donates, don’t I have to?

Associated Press

According to a web publication called “Dateline Hollywood,” the Center for Disease Control has just named a recently discovered STD after me. Honestly, this would be fine with me – I’ll take my publicity where I can get it – but there’s something about this article I found surprising. I’m quoted in it.

Check it: