Beyonce & Jay-Z Richest Couple in Hollywood


The Baddest Couple in the entertainment industry will always go to Bey & Jay. Not only are they a dynamic power couple but they are an iconic multi-million dollar brand. According to reports from Forbes magazine earlier this year, the couple are worth over a billion dollars. 

Beyonce has a net worth this year of $350 million and Jay-Z at $810 million respectfully. 

The couple even bought a $26 million dollar home in The Hamptons with over 7 bedrooms and 7 and a half bathrooms. As well as a seperate guest house with two bedrooms. Wow! Can I borrow $500! 

Tyrese Breaks Down on Camera

Singer and Actor Tyrese Gibson filmed and uploaded a rather heart wrenching video about missing his daughter Shayla. He states how he is up to possibly $13K a month for child support. Also how the judge won’t allow him to see her and it’s been two months. Now I don’t know if it’s a cry for help or attention as Tyrese has been in the news lately but for nothing positive. 

I do feel for brothers who over paying in child support and still the state or a judge wont allow them custody or visitations of there children.  If this is the case then I most certainly feel for this brother. 

But Tyrese has stated some prettt nasty things about his sisters lately and not to mention his rant about The Rock getting a spin off film over him. So maybe this is a way to keep his name buzzing in the media. 

Take a look yourselves and see what’s going on with him. 

Boy Buh-Bye to Love & Hip Hop Hollywood


Well, well, what can I say…If you’ve watched part 2 of Love and Hip Hop Hollywood, you’ve seen the messiness and the tea. If not, well let me spill it for you. 

We open with a few of the cast on the couch. The host ask if Mr. Ray could be cordial with Zell. (This is Love and Hip hop no one is just cordial). Well, Mr. Ray said, “I don’t want to be cordial with him.” Well that must have sparked something off in Zell because instead of giving Mr. Ray a hug like he looked like he was attempting to do, he sneaks a couple punches in and is escorted off the set and into a car. He doesn’t return to the set. 

Meanwhile, Mr. Ray is backstage crying and trying to understand why he was punched; why he’s bleeding. A1 tries to sympathize with him and once Mr. Ray comes back on stage all of the case has pretty much taken up for Mr. Ray and said Zell was wrong for hitting him the way he did. Although, they themselves have been doing the same thing all damn season.

Alexis was caught laughing at Mr. Ray although she denies it. 

Later, Ms. Nikki Baby and Masika get into it for some comments she made that weren’t even directed towards Masika. But Nikki this time wins as the clap back queen when she said to Masika, “You live like you’re in a struggle and you look like one too.,”,and “My heels are higher than your whole self esteem.”

A none bothered Masika lies on the floor, taunting Nikki to come swing at her. Of course nothing happens, they break for commercial and all is well with the cast. 

Keyshia Cole was the perfect example of unbothered. We finally get to the love triangle of Brooke, Bridget and Booby. Keyshia not here for the drama gets off the couch and joins the rest of the cast near the audience. Clearly, Brooke never really wanted Booby and was clearly using him to make Marcus jealous. Booby, on the other hand may have been feeling her but not so much he brought Bridget on the trip to Catalina island with him. Bridget was left looking like a used up rag as usual. Her ex stating that he felt he dodged a bullet. But when Keyshia performed, her latest song, Incapable, you could see the love or perhaps some form of feelings or expression there for Keyshia. Perhaps, he’s still in love?!?

Later, we get to see Tearia discuss her alcoholism and the intervention that took place and lead her to rehab. Tearia calls out Cisco for playing her and of course he denies it but later apologizes for it. 

Lyrica, the orange hair queen who’s been dipping her nose in everyone’s business all season discusses why she was so upset her husband A1 would even consider working with other female artists that aren’t her because she’s so talented and the women aren’t even on her level.  Later, A1 says he does it all so there’s no need for his wife to work with other producers. Um, there was no point of y’all being on the show but yeah ok.

We close the show out by watching Safaree get emotional because he’s leaving Cali and going back home to New York. Hmm, just in time for the New York season to start. Chasing a paycheck suppose? This wouldn’t be the first time a Love and Hip Hop cast mate has jumped ship to another state for the show. 


Well anyway, another season is dead and gone so let us get ready for Yandy, Remy Ma, MariahLynn, and joining the cast is Superwoman, Lil Mo’ for season 8 of Love and Hip Hop New York. Get ready for more ratchetness to begin next Monday, same place, same time. Vh1 at 8pm. Get your popcorn ready!

Last In Line: A Slide From Obama to Trump

  Read Last In Line, a thought provoking novel that tells of a young man’s accounts during President Barack Obama’s Inauguration. 

From “Preface”

 

An Inaugural Air: The Slide from Obama to Trump

 

 

Jamal Mtshali’s Last in Line: An American Destiny Deferred (African American Images, 2016) examines U.S. public policy’s role in reproducing racial inequality in America’s justice, education, health care, and economic systems. With Donald Trump’s inauguration, these structures are certain to be reinforced. Although anchored in data and research, Last in Line also seizes narrative to underscore the magnitude of racial disparity in America and the prevalence of the biases which drive it. This excerpt details then-18-year-old Mtshali’s attendance at Barack Obama’s first inauguration and his pensive reflection on the implications of that moment. It contrasts starkly with the ominous air surrounding Trump’s inauguration, an unequivocal confirmation of the doubt which compelled his writing of Last in Line.

 

I exited a cozy station and made my way through joint-stiffening, glacial treatment uncharacteristic of Maryland’s temperance. I marched Washington’s streets in throngs reminiscent of Roman legions, warming my hands with circles of merriment, singing and dancing an unprecedented episode of American communion. Ours was a 21st century Great March, not comprised of Americans calling for freedom but Americans heralding the freedom’s arrival.

 

As I walked the streets and lawns of Capitol Hill, I thought of my ancestors and their bondage beneath Old Glory. President Lincoln’s first inauguration was their auspice, the sign of a future in which their chains would be cast off and melted into material with which a new, free America would be cast. Paralyzing chills came not from January’s pricks and pierces, but the vision that my ancestors may have regarded Abraham Lincoln the way I on this day regarded Barack Obama.

 

A silhouette rose from the east; rays shone amid the multitudes along the Western front. “Not in my lifetime.” I couldn’t help recalling the words I, born a score and seven years following Freedom Summer, often spoke with a tone of practical resignation. My ancestors’ words came into my hands a truism and dissipated in inaugural air a platitude. A hurried gust brushed my 18-year-old face, bypassing it to seize and escort the falsehood elsewhere. It was persona non grata in presence of the revered utterance, “God bless the United States of America.”

 

A chuckle froze. It turned me. “Man—racism is finished. It is dead.” He gazed for seconds, a heavy grin complementing eyes radiating limitless optimism. He turned toward the projector in injected stiffness, freeze frame belying motion picture. I tried to mirror his effervescent smirk, but found paralysis—a pensive discomfort unbefitting, perhaps even insulting of, this moment.

 

For the rest of the afternoon as the world celebrated Barack Obama’s ascent to the Oval Office, I mulled that stranger’s words. Friends and family, some who witnessed the height of the Civil Rights Movement, marveled at images of the president and first lady greeting the nation. I could not marvel, for I could not help chewing that late twentysomething’s verse. It seemed to fly in the face of the dispiriting elements of American scripture I had known. Like the Book of James Byrd. Its ink dried when I was seven years old. What was that—solitary confinement? An outlying emblem of hatred long since banished from America’s heart? Given the experiences of my family members, my friends—even myself—I was reluctant to accept his prophecy. It seemed unfulfilled—his belief that race was anywhere near the finish line. I heard praises of victory but no buzzer flatlining us from scorched Earth to Eden’s divinity.

 

I entertained that he was perhaps right. Perhaps I’d glorified myself in some malcontent archetype, covering my eyes and ears as strange, partisan fruit of petulance. This was not James Byrd’s day—this was Barack Obama’s day. Reformation was upon us. This was America’s dawn, the day which would heal the sufferings of the multitudes—every James Byrd. America rejoiced in a new Pontifex Maximus—a man with whom I shared not only blackness but first-generation African descent—yet all I could do was groan. America saluted a black president hoisted by a variegated will, entertaining an era free of the sit-ins, bus boycotts, and freedom rides that convened about an operating table excising cancers threatening our Constitution with a threadbare fate. Many died for our sins, nailed to fiery crosses, mocked by unholy masses, blood-sacrificed unto Sodom’s devils. They rose from the dead in schools, neighborhoods, and colleges convoked in Christ’s name. The day of reckoning portended in the prophecy of resurrection dawned. I blasphemed. My wanton thoughts were libel, spilling blood upon consecrated soil.

 

As I walked Washington’s streets on inauguration day, disparity accosted me. Its profile was black—and in the neighborhood of a palace where, because of the discriminate acquiescence of mortgage lenders, a black man and his family would soon reside. Middle-aged black men idling on porches, frozen by January, arrested me. Children held me captive; I recoiled at clones made in my image a foot, one hundred pounds, and ten years prior taking baby steps that, with socks, shoes, and bootstraps, would be giant leaps. Young men bearing resemblance to the then-me mean-mugged—their cruel contortions perhaps originating from some intoxicant peddled by a kingpin on a far-away planet. Perhaps not so far.

 

Truth frisked; I had no right to resist. “These people”—my people— were not stuff of inanimate will, feral sentiment, and Petri dishes. Laziness, violence, pathology—measurements of the dark visage America struck and neglected—stared not with concrete savagery, but a graveled, dispossessed affect. Where men of titles and tailors saw feral children, I saw human sorrow. That sorrow harked to a familiar face—one of hard work, humility, and hope. I looked into those eyes, dark as my own, and saw the sorrow I, as a child, once saw slip from the eyes of my grandfather, a man born and reared in rural Georgia. It was a sorrow somewhat assuaged by his migration to Buffalo, New York, an exodus affording him, his family, and many black Southerners of the Great Migration some semblance of spirit. But no dam could contain such falls. I wondered if, on this day, the souls of black folk would at last be free.

 

On this day, Americans autopsied sorrow. We tested its vital signs. We placed our frozen fingers over its face, feeling no fumes. We grasped steel; its caged, rocking ribbing ceased. We declared it deceased. On the day of this great coronation, we designated ourselves licensed coroners; our degree of qualification became apparent as we declared racism’s death after determining its proper resting place. We dared to dream. Dream we can. But the dream is cruel fantasy. In this dream, there is no justice ruling against minorities and on behalf of injustice. In this dream, there is no euthanasia failing black organs, harvested both from poverty’s casualties and Jack and Jill card-carriers. In this dream, there is no birthing room denying admission to two black infants for every one white failing to thrive. In this dream, there is no executive shredding African American opportunity, shouting black credentials to double doors ex officio. In this dream, none of these figments permeate into present. Wrapping embalms King’s body from substance seeping to spoil the slumber deferring America’s awakening.

I entered a cozy station. Frostbite yielded to a sweltering wave fostering equilibrium. Its sheltering did not consummate with bodily homeostasis, but with consumption of the sacrament it bore. Spirit’s nourishment conceived Last in Line; it is sacrament for a greater body. I believed then and believe now, at the end of his presidency, what all Americans knew on that day—that President Obama’s election is both a symbol of change and a representation of our country’s potential for greatness. Where I, along with many Americans, diverge is in the belief that his election is far from a sign that America has salvaged its damaged soul, crediting its constitutional “master promissory note.” American masses have certified Barack Obama’s election a sign of long-awaited heaven on Earth. In doing so, these denominations perpetuate the strangely pernicious idea that racism is no more—and that to speak otherwise is to assume the dark mantle of the victim. On January 20, 2009, while American congregations, young and old, black and white, rejoiced in a dream, spirit commanded me to desert.

 

  Adapted from Jamal Mtshali’s Last in Line: An American Destiny Deferred, published by African American Images and available on Amazon. For more on the author, visit http://www.JamalMtshali.com. Follow Jamal on Twitter at @jtmtshali.

Why Aren’t You Happy For Me? 

By CoKane

Why aren’t you happy for me?
  

 When someone accomplishes a goal or task that they’ve planned and put into action for quite some time, it should make everyone who knows this person personally extremely happy and excited. We all know how hard it is to achieve any goal. We all know how many late nights, early mornings, tears, upsets, and ‘NO’ one must endure before the big bow breaks. So why do some folks seem jealous when someone else makes it out? It’s the total opposite of the happy emotion that the achiever would expect once he divulges that a goal or task has been successfully completed.

 It’s the learned ‘crabs in a bucket’ phenomenon, and I’ve seen it so many times from family to those who I thought was a friend to those who I’ve only met through social media. Being a self-published author who isn’t signed or affiliated with any of the e-book publisher brands, I’ve always found it hard to be respected by my author peers who started at the bottom with me as well as make readers believe in my pen game enough to support my work. It weighed down so heavy on me until I almost decided to walk away from this industry and career altogether. It took several moments of reflection to regroup and realize that people don’t support when they feel threatened. I just couldn’t understand why the need to be threatened by anything that I create or stand behind. I settled with those fake smiles to come from those who hate me for whatever I’m doing that they’ve not been able to accomplish. According to the Urban Dictionary, a “hater” can be defined by:

• A person who feels anger and/or jealousy for someone who has succeeded in something they have worked hard for.

• A being that speaks badly, and/or takes negative actions in attempt to create problems for a successful person.

But why the need for hate when it’s easier to congratulate and support? Unfortunately, for some, hate is all they know. Being raised in environments that showcased no cohesion amongst the family is where a lot of this disconnect stems from. The black family isn’t bonded enough to be proud of their family member’s own successes, hence the quote “Your biggest support will come from people who you don’t know”. Nathalie Thompson asked “why would your family – the people whom, you’d think, should be the ones most likely to be in your corner, be so quick to shoot your dreams down?” It’s simple: it comes down to the fact that they stopped living for their dreams and seek “to prevent you from reaching your own dreams”.

For example, when LHHATL reality star, Bambi, started a hair line, LHHATL fans flocked to buy the same grade of hair from her yet when a cousin or best friend opened up an online hair boutique, these same ‘fans’ asked and begged for discounts or free items, often times not ever buying one item at full price. Or when I dropped my books and provided gifts to readers to provoke reviews, my efforts weren’t appreciated by the receivers of the gift, and reviews weren’t left nor were my books shared for others to read. The fear of rejection and the pain of seeing someone else close (friend or family) doing or achieving something when they had to give their own dreams up is causing people to hate your success from a distance yet smile in your face as if they’re happier than you are. It’s a very common form of hate, and in order to annihilate it, we’d have to reshape the minds of those who refuse to see your worth and congratulate your success.

The Huffington Post believes that “if you master generating genuine happiness for other people, not only will you find a cure for the envy, which can sabotage your success, but there are additional benefits as well. Those benefits include:

• Freedom from frustration and worry. When you see another person’s win as a loss for you, you pave the way for discouragement and resentment to set in. Instead allow other people’s success to ignite hope for the success coming in your time of harvest.

• More opportunities to be happy! Rejoicing with others creates an opportunity to multiply the good times you get to celebrate. By seizing every chance to sincerely congratulate others on their success, you are creating an atmosphere for others to be willing to celebrate your successes.

• Improved relationships with others. Healthy relationships involve sharing both ups and downs. People are more likely to respond positively to you if they sense that you’re truly happy for them.

• Good karma. You reap what you sow. Giving unselfishly creates a win for everybody.

 Now we know the benefits of being genuinely happy when someone other than yourself wins, but until you accept that you cannot win EVERY TIME and others will win every now and again, you’ll be stuck in your miserable state of mind, wishing for someone else’s downfall yet causing your own. Smile! If your best friend, cousin, sister, uncle, mother or father made it before you, trust that they’ll bring all of those who were genuinely happy with them in due time.

How Bad Do You Want it? 

dreambigEveryone talks about what they plan to do. Everyone makes new year’s resolutions during the brink of a new upcoming year. But how many of us stay loyal to our vision long after we’ve said it. 

Whether you want to start a business , write a book or even learn a new language you have to STAY the course. It’s quite easy to get distracted or blindsided by events in life. 

So I ask how bad do you want it? Remember, if you treat your gift, your craft like a hobby that’s exactly what it will be. Keep working! 

Sometimes, being disciplined means staying home on a Friday or Saturday night. Losing out on hours of sleep because while others are sleeping you’re too busy grinding. 

Another thing , that kills dreams beyond lack of ambitious is doubt and fear. Just because you don’t see an increase in your plans. Doesn’t mean you haven’t made progress. 

Keep working hard. The grind will pay off and don’t wait on opportunity to come your way. Because in this world you’ll have more people fighting against you versus fighting with you. 

Be confident and kill your goals! Applaud for yourself and KEEP WORKING to get even further. 

Don’t worry about where other people are with their lives. Their path is theirs alone and not meant for you. A path for you is already there waiting on you to realize all of your amazing greatness. 

Be a Go Gettah!  

A Deep Mind Battle 

A Deep Mind Battle by Co Kane  

 Fear.

Rejection.

Everybody keeps insisting this is a lesson

I’d much rather the Universe lessen

All these loads so I’m not stressing

My life.

So much recollection

Yes I need some reflection

Or probably a decent distraction

One that wears a Magnum

Something sexy with much attraction

Lights.

Camera.  

I need some action.

This is a phase.

My thoughts are all over the place  

Let me pick up my scattered thoughts just in case

I’m not trying to keep running away

Yet I can’t stay.

I feel so afraid.  

I go to my Higher Power but i don’t know what to say.  

Everyday I declare I’ll be okay

I look in the mirror and don’t recognize my face

My smile seems misplaced.

Dark, slanted eyes.

Reveals a soul that cries.

Unveils a spirit that died.

Now there’s a race against time

To reconnect my soul with my mind

It’ll take time.  

I got plenty to use to unwind

Un-blur my vision, I can no longer be blind

No one has ever been kind

My fire is dim, it used to shine

No motivation.  

Full of frustration.

Please hold the conversation.

Yes that’s Fear of Rejection; by default there remains a disconnection. I’ve grasped whatever valuable lesson all these hard times were teaching and stressing, and until I find peace, I’ll carry my heart on my sleeve.

 

We Are More Than Hashtags: Death of Sterling and Castile 

  Black men are dying. Black men are dying at such an alarming rate it’s downright scary. They were our brothers, uncles, fathers and husbands. Now they are reduced to nothing but a mere hashtag. 

What has our country become when black men can’t even live without being in constant fear of their lives. Wives, mothers and sisters living in fear if they will return home at the end of the day. 

 

 
Simply selling CDs or exercising your right to bare arms is reason enough to kill?!? (Alton Sterling)

I think not! 

No one bats an eye until the murder of police officers are in question. Although the lives of innocent people is a devastation in an of itself. But just like police officers lives matters so does black lives. 

We are not saying other lives don’t matter but we need to get the same amount of sympathy for our slain black men just like those slain officers. 

Something needs to be done. But destroying innocent civilians isn’t the answer. We need love not hate. 

We need to come together and fight injustices. But until the ones with all the power and wealth change the way they think nothing will ever change in this crazy world. 

The girlfriend of Philando Castile live streams her boyfriend’s murder. Please be careful everyone you are worth more.  Don’t become the next hashtag. 

Heartbreak Hotel…smh

By Tiffany Jenkins 

  I am sure you have heard by now but I just had to cover this because I was kinda sad about it. Sunday, June 19th Iggy Azalea and NBA star Nick Young announced their split. After being engaged for a year, the two have gone their separate ways. 

Iggy broke the news on social media stating that after trying to rebuild her trust for Nick, she just “couldn’t do it anymore”. (I’m paraphrasing). 

Nick also took to social media stating just one word…”Single”. In case you forgot, a few months ago, Nick was recorded telling one of his teammates that he had cheated on Iggy with a 19 year old (Nick is 30…yeah, exactly!) 

When asked about it (because it was mysteriously leaked to the public) Nick said that it was just a joke. Iggy went on air stating that it better had been a joke otherwise she was going to channel her inner Lorraine Bobbit…(please Google her if you don’t get the reference but I guarantee EVERY MAN knows about LB..). 

Even though Iggy stood by her man, it seems that something must have been revealed because now…the wedding is off!! Ok, here’s my soapbox moment people. 

This is a PSA! If you have NOT gotten the playa status, savage chick, I might be missing something, unruly, disrespectful.I still haven’t healed from my ex so I don’t trust anyone. 

 I don’t just wanna be with somebody just to be with somebody, selfish, under or just plain un-committed foolishness out of your system, PLEASE STAY SINGLE!!!!!! How unfair and cruel to invite somebody into your life when you know good and well that you aren’t ready for a relationship. Get your mind right and your emotions in check. You are playing with people’s lives, hearts and emotions. 

Just be honest and let that person decide if they still want to take a chance on you or not. And if you are so blessed to find true love, please appreciate that person, love them, protect them and treat them like gold. The grass ain’t always greener boo boo. I feel bad for Iggy, she went and planned this whole wedding, thinking she was about to embark on this fairy tale journey with the man she thought was the love of her life. How heartbreaking. 

Iggy, you kept it classy and while it may hurt for a minute, pick your head up girl, he just wasn’t the one. Your Prince Charming is still out there waiting for you…I’m on your “TEAM”.

Get ready!!

Ok people!!! It’s here again. The 2016 Billboard Awards are airing this weekend!!! Leading the pack are The Weekend with 19 nominations, Justin Bieber with 16,  Fetty Wap and Drake tie with 11 nominations and Adele and Taylor Swift with 8. I’m rooting for my girl Adele!! HELLO FROM THE OTHER SIIIIDDDDEEEE!!!! Yasssss! And of course my future husband Drake, duh lol…performances by the Biebs, Rihanna, DNCE, Nick Jonas and so much more. You know that imma have ALL the details for you tomorrow night!