Somebody help that baby.

"Very tired."

I hear you, kid.

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"Here go hell come."

"Explosion, and then darkness."

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"Why do you continue to mock our show?"

"Have you seen your show?"

That's Joel McHale, bringing the funny. :)

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"Call Morgan Freeman. Or maybe Danny Glover."

I will do that, Roy Wood, Jr. I do have some questions for them.

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On the nose, for the children.

Poor teachers.

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"This was the best season of The Bachelor ever."

"Best = most recent"

Either way, I don't watch the show. But the clips on The Dish and on The Soup = hilarity.

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"A freaking lesbian mintrel show."

That accurately describes this week's episode of Law & Order: SVU featuring Kathy Griffin as lesbian-turned-bisexual activist. I had been looking forward to seeing Kathy Griffin in something, to hold me over until My Life on the D-List returns to Bravo this summer. However, this was a hilarious disappointment. "P.C." was full of stereotypes, and portrayed lesbians as angry, loud, violent women, who hate bisexuals and can be turned by the love of a good man brandishing a tire iron.

For further discussion please see "Law & Order: SVU" mini-cap: "P.C.", by Hornito on AfterEllen.com.

This episode was almost as bad as Wentworth Miller's appearance in the SVU season premiere last September:





Ha ha ha! "I am trying to help you here!" Oh, Wentworth.

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"I think the world would be better off if I stopped doing interviews."

WARNING: Graphic words ahead. May not be suitable for children or for sensitive readers (like me).

There are times when I think to myself, "Am I being the best Bianca I can be? If I just work a little harder, maybe people would see how great I am, and things will turn out okay."

Then comes the John Mayer interview, and I no longer feel there would be a payoff from my working any harder at all.

When I first read about John's apology, which was featured on Yahoo's front page, I was confused. I don't keep up with the regular day-to-day nonsense of John Mayer, from his mockings of paparazzi to his incessant tweets. I'm not even sure when his last album came out, or if anyone would care about him if he hadn't done two famous blond ladies. So I had no idea what John was apologizing for, or why it was headline news.

Tonight while I was watching The Soup, I read John Mayer's entire March 2010 Playboy article. None of it is flattering to John, but here is the excerpt that made my skin crawl:

MAYER: I grew up in my own head. As soon as I lose that control, once I have to deal with someone else’s desires, I cut and run. I’m pretty culpable about being hard to live with. I have had a good run of imagining things into reality. I’ve got a huge streak of successes based on my own inventions. If you tell me I’m wrong or that I’m overthinking something, well, overthinking has given me everything in my career. I have a hard time not looking at anxiety disorder as being like an ATM. I can invent things really well. I mean, I have unbelievable orgasms alone. They’re always the best. They always end the way I want them to end. And I have such an ability to make believe, I can almost project something onto my wall, watch it and get off to it: sexually, musically, it doesn’t matter. When I meet somebody, I’m in a situation in which I can’t run it because another person is involved. That means letting someone else talk, not waiting for them to remind you of something interesting you had in mind.

PLAYBOY: Masturbation for you is as good as sex?

MAYER: Absolutely, because during sex, I’m just going to run a filmstrip. I’m still masturbating. That’s what you do when you’re 30, 31, 32. This is my problem now: Rather than meet somebody new, I would rather go home and replay the amazing experiences I’ve already had.

PLAYBOY: You’d rather jerk off to an ex-girlfriend than meet someone new?

MAYER: Yeah. What that explains is that I’m more comfortable in my imagination than I am in actual human discovery. The best days of my life are when I’ve dreamed about a sexual encounter with someone I’ve already been with. When that happens, I cannot lay off myself.

Okay, so that wasn't the statement he apologized for. It was still creepy, though. Dude has is-sues!

Here comes the super skin-crawly part:

PLAYBOY: If you didn’t know you, would you think you’re a douche bag?

MAYER: It depends on what I picked up. My two biggest hits are “Your Body Is a Wonderland” and “Daughters.” If you think those songs are pandering, then you’ll think I’m a douche bag. It’s like I come on very strong. I am a very…I’m just very. V-E-R-Y. And if you can’t handle very, then I’m a douche bag. But I think the world needs a little very. That’s why black people love me.

Oh, really? Am I the only one who missed the throngs of black John Mayer fans? He's not freaking Justin Timberlake. By looking at his fans, sadly John is more akin to Hootie.

The oversharing continues:

PLAYBOY: Because you’re very?

MAYER: Someone asked me the other day, “What does it feel like now to have a hood pass?” And by the way, it’s sort of a contradiction in terms, because if you really had a hood pass, you could call it a nigger pass. Why are you pulling a punch and calling it a hood pass if you really have a hood pass? But I said, “I can’t really have a hood pass. I’ve never walked into a restaurant, asked for a table and been told, ‘We’re full.’"

PLAYBOY: It is true; a lot of rappers love you. You recorded with Common and Kanye West, played live with Jay-Z.

MAYER: What is being black? It’s making the most of your life, not taking a single moment for granted. Taking something that’s seen as a struggle and making it work for you, or you’ll die inside. Not to say that my struggle is like the collective struggle of black America. But maybe my struggle is similar to one black dude’s.

And which black dude's struggle would that be? Malcolm X's? Medgar Evers's? Michael Vick's?

The best is yet to come:

PLAYBOY: Do black women throw themselves at you?

MAYER: I don’t think I open myself to it. My dick is sort of like a white supremacist. I’ve got a Benetton heart and a fuckin’ David Duke cock. I’m going to start dating separately from my dick.

PLAYBOY: Let’s put some names out there. Let’s get specific.

MAYER: I always thought Holly Robinson Peete was gorgeous. Every white dude loved Hilary from The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. And Kerry Washington. She’s superhot, and she’s also white-girl crazy. Kerry Washington would break your heart like a white girl. Just all of a sudden she’d be like, “Yeah, I sucked his dick. Whatever.” And you’d be like, “What? We weren’t talking about that.” That’s what “Heartbreak Warfare” is all about, when a girl uses jealousy as a tactic.

Yeesh.

For the record, I have never thrown myself at John Mayer. I have never loved John Mayer. I don't love John Mayer now. And unless he saves some babies from a burning ship, I doubt I will ever love John Mayer in the future.

The twisted, yet honorable, part of the whole debacle is that he was telling the truth. And I know from personal experience that he is not the only guy--regardless of color or fame or nationality--who feels that way. Hence, the skin crawling, the resentment, and the heartache. But mostly, this reinforces the persistent sick feeling in my stomach when I encounter people who deny the privilege that they have, simply by being born into the right demographic.

Finally, a quote from a commenter on the thread following the article, "When Racefail Meets Playboy: The John Mayer Interview," by AJ Plaid, Racialicious:

"The bitch of it is Mayer’s comment is–yet again–another pop-culture 'confirmation' that Black women are undateable, which translates to utterly undesireable and unfuckable."

And the world goes to great pains to make sure black women never ever forget it.

Happy Black History Month!

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"You really think I've never kissed a guy before?"

"The characters on the show are the only people who pretend I'm not gay. It's like the season that Clay Aiken was on American Idol."

Oh, Joel. Keep entertaining me on Community, too!

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Black history is Everyone's history.

Thank you, VH1. And thank you, Ray J:

He's a multi-platinum singer/songwriter? Really?

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"Is this too close?" "Is that inappropriate?"

Yes. And yes. Those two need to meet Chet from The Real World: Brooklyn:

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Speaking of Edward Cullen . . .

Let the comparisons continue.

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"You can't spell 'Gentleman' without the 'G'."

This show is growing on me. I don't like the Anglophilia and Eurocentrism permeating the lessons in sophistication. For instance, I don't think that cricket is "the most sophisticated sport" in the world just because it's British and requires players to wear sweater vests. I don't think that blackballing your peers to remove them from your exclusive club shows good sportsmanship or gentlemanly qualities. I think it's cowardly and duplicitous. Just because something is associated with the UK doesn't automatically make it sophisticated or proper. Have you seen Colin Farrell? But what can we expect from a man whose outfits look like something Ralph Lauren (née Ralph Lifshitz) and the Brooks Brothers vomited up.

Also, one would think that a competition obsessed with faux English culture would get the grammar in the title correct. The program--executive produced by Jamie Foxx, who has not yet made an appearance--should be called From Gs to Gents not From G's to Gents. "G's" is a possessive adjective. I don't even own a diamond patterned ascot.

Furthermore, as Linda Ellerbee once said, "If men can run the world, why can't they stop wearing neckties? How intelligent is it to start the day by tying a little noose around your neck?"

However, I do like that some of the contestants are trying to make their lives better. That's a good thing.

Here's what Joel McHale has to say:

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A reason to vote for Ralph Nader

But for reals, y'all. Don't vote for Ralph Nader. No one needs John McCain in the White House. Eight years of this crazy is bad enough.

To all the guys (and the ladies) in blue shirts reading this, welcome! Feel free to leave a comment. I'm sorry I couldn't be there today. I'm sick. :( My nose is stuffed uppa to here. Fight on!

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On an all new SVU . . .

I was laughing for a full minute. Joel McHale's writers are so wrong.

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If you see one movie this year,

make it this one: