This tranny is black, whack, and loves it in the back.  It was raised on a farm in Idaho and now lives in Ryan Seacrest’s spacious closet.  It has three daughters from three different nights of lesbian debauchery.  Their names are “L’Oreal”, “Neutrogena”, and “CVS Aisle Four”.

I'm not a tranny, but I do like it in the fanny.

Oprah has a sister… and she just met it, which means three things:

(1) She didn’t come alone….

there are more of them out there…;

(2) Theories that she ate her sibling while in the womb, thereby deriving her power, are now obsolete;

and

(3) A shit-ton of people are going to watch her televised reunion, which will increase her power tremendously

No, that is not Oprah's secret sister. I think it's some sort of space lesbian from the 60's.

An untamed tranny running loose in the wild is bad news bears, especially from a public safety perspective.  Everybody knows that.

That’s why it is extremely important that a tranny is tamed prior to setting it loose in the wild to reunite with its tranny herd to breed.

It all starts with breakin’ a bitch, i.e., show the tranny who’s boss, put it in its place.

Taming a tranny can be extremely dangerous, and potentially messy work, but not if not done properly.  And remember, a tranny tamed is a friend earned.  Even if you’re not very fond of the tranny you’ve tamed, or if you simply do not wish to have tranny friends because you care about what other people think about you, do not fret.  You will gain a friend in every sensible member of society for each tranny you successfully tame.  So you will actually gain many friends.  And you will receive a certificate, via facebook, legitimizing these new friendships.

Gear & Equipment

Before you start, make sure you have a helmet, a reliable switch blade, a compass, and a tin of bear repellant handy.  Like a bear, a tranny will retreat if you spray it in its tranny face with bear repellant.

Like orienteering, tranny taming is an activity which requires a compass.  Several bottles of Purell are highly recommended, but not required.  As a side note, Alpaca Farmers historically tend to excel at tranny taming because an Alpaca is basically a tranny with a better weave.

To Be Continued…

I wanted to take a ride on your Hockey Stick, but that desire has subsided because I don’t take rides from strangers or, in your case, losers (of the Stanley Cup).  I really wanted you guys to win because you clearly had the hotter team… At least in HD.

Did you ever consider changing your team colors?  You look like Halloween for crying out loud!  When your team uniforms resemble comic book villains or the Halloween Adventure store, you should expect to lose, even in your hometown.  Just sayin’.  Orange and black is whack.  It suggests supernatural things.  Such as Snooki and Whoopi.  And those radioactive looking Oreo cookie remixes they sell for Halloween.

Love,

Tokyo

JonBenét Patricia Ramsey… A little white diva whose name wasn’t chosen by Matthew Knowles (Beyonce’s father).  JonBenét is an inspiration to both small children and promiscuous senior citizens.  If she were here today, she would have been Chuck Norris’ only worthy opponent… and Miley Cyrus would be irrelevant.

"Tee hee (covering mouth as shown above)... It's considered improper for you to see my open mouth while I'm laughing... But don't worry, you can totally see it later... while I'm deep-throating it."

1.)  Cover Your Mouth When Laughing!!

The first cardinal rule of proper geisha laughing is to cover your mouth when the urge to laugh, however slight, arises.  Ideally, you should use a fan to cover your mouth.  However, this is not mandatory.  If you are unable to locate a fan in a timely manner, it is also acceptable to use your hands.

The most important take home message is cover your mouth.

The Mouth Covering Rule applies ANYTIME you laugh, even if you're on a cell phone.

Tokyo’s Tip: Buy a fan to keep in your purse at all times.  Practice whipping it out in front of a mirror, experimenting with it’s strategic placement in your purse.  Do this until you can convincingly pass as a small, graceful Asian girl with ninja-like fan handling skills.  If this fails, but you have access to and full use of both of your hands (the complete set), get regular manicures and just use your hands instead.  Just like Snooki.

Rule applies at all times, even in New Jersey.

If you are without hands, or a prosthetic to which a fan may be attached, sorry.  You are shit out of luck and have no hope of being regarded as a classy girl in Japan.

"I'm laughing because even though I don't understand English, I love doodie jokes. I have a Japanese sense of humor."

2.)  Mastering the Geisha Hand-Covering-Mouth Maneuver Facial Expression

With your eyes (and only your eyes) carefully practice making an expression similar to that of an obese person in a Burger King (let’s call him “Fatty with a Secret”) at a table for one, who after enjoying his Whopper meal farts mournfully, three distinct notes.

She farted mournfully, three distinct notes.

Fatty With A Secret’s face reflects an air of satisfaction but with slightly shameful undertones, because midway through blasting ass, he becomes aware of a nearby table of busty Philadelphia Parking Authority Meter Maids sharing an order of Onion Rings with BK’s zesty horseradish dipping sauce while discussing the contents of the clearance bin at the Walmart on Columbus Boulevard.  He has been caught in the act and he knows it but he’s still trying to play it off like he doesn’t know.

Once you have mastered “the Fatty With A Secret look”, try toning it down a bit.  The goal is to simultaneously convey a mood of innocence and joy, as if you’ve just located a portal to Narnia in your changing area at the Wishy Washy and can finally escape the totalitarian Communist regime that forced you into the human sex trafficking industry at the tender age of 16.

"It wasn't me... It was my... shoe."

In the case of non-sex slaves living in China or any American Chinatown, the portal to Narnia would be in your kitchen area, where a dishwasher would ordinarily be in a proper American residence.

With practice, you will ideally master the sought-after look.  A sort of hybrid of the “Fatty With A Secret” and the “Wow, I’ve located a portal to Narnia and my days of indentured servitude are over!” looks.

Alternative: With swine flu still en vogue, if you pick up a chic swine flu mask, your mouth is already covered for you.

You can still look hip and laugh like a classy geisha without compromising your immune system!

Even haute couture is cashing in on the swine flu craze.

Another excuse to purchase a cute designer accessory…  And it’s guilt-free, because it actually has practical use!

Why Cover Mouth?

In Japan, a woman’s open mouth in public is considered offensive and vulgar.  There are also some traditions about evil spirits entering a woman’s soul through her open mouth.  In Japan, such evil spirits include “Yokai.”  Literally, “bewitching apparition.”  ”Yokai” encompasses a wide spectrum of frightening, bizarre and even amusing ghouls, goblins and monsters that usually appear at dawn or dusk.

Personally, I’d be more concerned about syphilis entering a geisha’s soul through the assorted man dicks inserted into her open mouth on a daily basis.

Apparently syphilis is not considered to be as dangerous as a Japanese mountain goblin or a mischievous little demon who enjoys cucumbers and sumo wrestling.

If I ever find out, I’ll keep you posted.

"I'm laughing on the inside... but I covered my mouth anyway, probably out of habit."

For more information on strange Japanese demons, ghosts and evil spirits that have been known to enter a woman’s laughing, open mouth, visit the following url:

Japanese Ghosts

…And it really got me to thinking about fisting, and how it could possibly better society.

Fisting is gross.  I can’t even believe that it’s a sexual activity.  I personally think that it should be a government-mandated torture strategy.  Probably hurts way more than water-boarding.

Penis Cheney

Why can’t we all just be civil human beings and fingerbang instead?  As a general rule, if you find yourself forced to choose, fingers are preferable to fists, even if the fingers are pointing at you.  People don’t eat chicken fists.  They eat chicken fingers (…and nuggets, which I actually love more).

When I become elected president, I’m gonna give Gitmo an extreme home makeover and fisting is gonna be all the rage among the government-mandated torture activists.  The man charged with administering the torture using his furious man fists shall be called “The Fist Punisher”.

Do you not like the term “Fist Punisher”?  I don’t care.  As if “Enemy Combatant” is any better and doesn’t also sound like a bad guy from “GI Joe”?

Possible Problems with Fisting as a government-mandated torture strategy similar to “water-boarding”:

• Screening the prisoners for fisting fetishes

You wouldn’t want them to enjoy it.  It wouldn’t be torture.  It’d be just like an ordinary Friday night fisting session back in Baghdad… ‘cept better… ‘cause it’s in Gitmo!

• Concealing Fist Punisher’s identity

So his friends won’t find out and make fun of him.  So his parents won’t kick him out of the house.  So that, if he chooses to pursue a career in hand modeling, the option remains open.

• Determining Fist Punisher ‘s salary & benefits,

Including due diligence disability analysis

• “How Far Is Too Far?”, A Study Under the Stimulus Package Regarding the Potential Health Risks of Project Fist Punisher.

Obtain government grant. Use tax dollars to conduct a study on the durability and elasticity of the average Muslim’s colon wall, using fists and forearms of varying dimensions and girth[1].  Use Muslims who are being detained for reasons we made up but mostly because they looked suspicious meaning they wore a turban or a birka or had a long dirty beard (even though they were probably just foreign and didn’t understand the orders we were barking at them in English with a Southern drawl, or they were Santa Claus) as test subjects in exchange for their early release.  After study but prior to their release, administer extremely high levels of hallucinogens and hypnotize them to believe that they were abducted by aliens.  This will require hiring a highly skilled, government-trained, expert hypnotist, and a Smack dealer.  Oh, and hire large eastern European women with respect to [1].

Right-wing Christian fanatics are just ridiculous.  I came across this article entitled “Do Retardeds Go To Heaven” in which a young boy named Benjamin (age 9) allegedly wrote to the Landover Baptist Church asking them whether his mentally retarded sister would be allowed into heaven.  Both the letter and Pastor Deacon Fred’s response are just plain ridiculous…  and for some unknown reason, there is a picture of Rosie O’donnell wearing a hat.

This is what the little boy’s letter said:

Dear Pastor,

My older sister, Becky, is a retarded. She is 12-years old and she has been hooked up to a mashine in her bedroom since she was too years old. She can’t talk none except for moans and grunts and she’s blind and her face is squished up like a pancake. My dad says she’s a moongloid, and that I shouldn’t call her a retarded. But all my friends who I charge 25 cents to  peek in her window say she is definitely a retarded. My parents read the Bible to her while they feed her with a tube. Sometimes she spits up stuff onto my mom and dad, and me – and once she threw up on the Bible. My dad says she has a demon in her that makes her that way, but the doctor said it is because my mom was 53-years old when she had her, and God don’t like for old hags to have no sex. Do retardeds like my sister, Becky, go to heaven?

The Pastor responded:

Dear Benny,

The Bible is pretty clear about who gets to spend eternity with Jesus in Heaven, and who gets to roast eternally with Satan in Hell. I’m afraid I can only speculate that since God tells us in the book of Jeremiah 1:5 that He knows us before He even forms us in the womb, that your sister, Becky, must have really done something to tick off the Lord before she was born. As I always say, it is not for us to question how the Lord gets his kicks, but basically, unless your retarded, deaf, dumb and blind sister finds some way of understanding that Jesus died for her sins, and she miraculously finds the cognitive ability to accept Him as her personal savior, she is going to roast in Hell along with all the Catholics, child molesters, fornicators and mass murderers, not to mention the aborted and miscarried fetuses, who were also never able to comprehend Jesus and must therefore be tortured for eternity.

I’m very sorry, Benny, but its the Lord’s will. If it makes you feel any better, your sister isn’t alone. Just read Brother Harry’s sermon, “Chances Are, You and your Family Will Wind up in Hell,” if you need some comfort.

-Pastor Deacon Fred

You simply must check this out, I’m not even making this up!

Here is the link:

Do “Retardeds” Go To Heaven?

Precious: Based on the Novel “Push” By Sapphire (Directed by Lee Daniels, 2009)

LONDON, YESTERDAY.

This bitch called Tokyo Hilton saw the movie “Precious”, and she still hasn’t fully recovered from the psychological damage it caused her.  With the Oscars just around the corner, Tokyo Hilton feels obliged to share her sentiments regarding this film, which she found to be a highly offensive, obscene, and downright rude snuff film for all intents and purposes.

Additionally, she believes that the title “Precious” is somewhat misleading.  She has proposed “Sick Shit” as a “reasonable alternative.”

This is what This Bitch Called Tokyo Hilton has to say about “Precious”…

*SPOILER ALERT*

In case you were wondering, “Precious” is nothing at all like “Madea Goes To Jail”, despite the involvement of part-time granny tranny “Tyler Perry” in both films.

“Precious” is most definitely not a comedy…  At least not on purpose.

Although nearly everything about the movie offends and/or repulses me, It does have at least one redeeming quality; it’s (somewhat) educational value, much like it’s sister film “Gorillas in the Mist” starring Sigourney Weaver.

Gabourey Sidibe, nominated for an Oscar for best actress for her role in "Precious."

I’m sure I learned at least one (maybe two), valuable lesson(s).

For example I learned that pig’s feet should never be served without collared greens.  (At least in Harlem circa 1987) It’s considered rude, apparently… and it’ll get yo’ ass beat.

Mo'Nique, demonstrating that she is classy, she just played a monster in "Precious".

Other than it’s valuable lessons, and the overall quality of the acting, “Precious” is basically an “alternative” porn, for people with a sick ghetto-incest fetish… not unlike any novel by Maya Angelou or Toni Morrison.  In fact, the title “Precious” is somewhat reminiscent of “Beloved”, a novel by Toni Morrison that, come to think of it, also involves a rapacious father.

So… it should come as no surprise that Oprah had something to do with this.

Oprah… ’nuff said.

Oprah and Tyler Perry masquerading as "important black people" showing their enthusiasm for their collaborative work on the movie "Precious".

Before I continue, I gotta give mad props to Mo’Nique and Gabourey Sidebe (who’s name I had to Google like 400 times, so she will be hereinafter referred to as “Gabe”) for their acting.  Even though I make fun of both of them, “Precious” showed us that they are extremely talented actresses, and even This Bitch recognizes that.  In fact, I guess I am happy for both of them in terms of what it will do for their careers.

Besides, whenever I “make fun of”, “insult”, “criticize” or otherwise denigrate anyone, I do it with good intentions. a kind heart, and love (this applies to Mariah et al. as well).  Besides, I rarely mean anything I say.  Not to mention, I don’t really know any of these people I’m talking about.  So calm down, haters who think I’m some sort of half-Japanese Dick Cheney.  I don’t live in your world.  I’m here to educate you about mine.

Anyway, in a way I feel sorry for Mo’Nique and Gabe.  They were powerless, really.  And they probably didn’t realize what they were dealing with until it was too late.  For the power of Almighty Oprah is vast and great, and the grip of her influence is ferocious and inescapable.  Even Scientology couldn’t stop Tom Cruise from showing his true colors (as an alien) in her presence… in front of a televised, live studio audience.

Though undoubtedly both are strong black women in their own rights, even the combined forces of Mo’Nique and Gabe pale in comparison to Oprah, whose wrath and fury is insurmountable, even for those of us who wield magic and attend graduate school.  She may in fact be the Antichrist.  As far as I’m concerned the jury’s still out on that… A theory worth investigating, perhaps?

Nonetheless, even though the mere act of watching this movie probably gave me H1N1, I feel as if I’ve earned at least SOME degree of street cred for not walking out.

In retrospect, I’m not sure that I was physically able to walk out, given the fragile state of quasi-shock I was in resulting from the mere act of watching the film.  Picture being strapped to a chair and forced to watch a series of bloody gladiator death matches involving your immediate family.  That is, assuming you care about your immediate family on some level and do not wish to see them brutally slain by each other in an Ancient Roman, open-air, public arena while a crowd of pantheistic common folk cheers, it’s most astute constituents wagering their bets against your mentally disabled younger brother.

Hungry yet? Keep reading...

Before watching “Precious”, I made the mistake of allowing myself to purchase, for an extra 50¢, a large bucket of popcorn with scenes from “Alice In Wonderland” painted on the sides of it.  Halfway through the movie, the still full, perfectly buttered and salted bucket of popcorn was on the floor between my feet… As far away as possible from my nose’s range of smell, as if it were a vagina with gonorrhea and a yeast infection beckoning me to sample its wares or participate in a pussy taste test study in which it would be a featured item.

My facial expression and body language no doubt resembled a Gitmo detainee who had just been water-boarded.  I basically looked like a post rigor mortis David Carradine carrying a special edition custom Hello! Kitty Louis Vuitton bag.

Hot bag, right? Soo glad I didn't throw up in it...

Needless to say, I didn’t eat any of my popcorn.

This puppy stays at home, something I wish assholes would do on the weekends...

The Infantry Generally Frowns Upon The Use Infants as Artillery

At one point in the film, Mo’nique throws a baby on the floor.  Who throws a baby?

Even though she played a despicable human being in "Precious", you have to admit, she is pretty damn adorable!

With the exception of China, I think we can all agree that the whole idea of using babies as projectile objects is, as it should be, universally frowned upon in a major way.  But even the most evil, aggressive Chinese baby-eating enthusiasts would probably take pause at Mo’Nique’s baby spiking scene in “Precious.”

In “Precious” the temporarily airborne tot was a male.  In China, male babies are generally treated better than other flavors of baby, and are much less likely to fall victim to infanticide at the hands of the Chinese Baby Gestapo (a population control measure sanctioned by the God-less Communist Chinese government).  Unless, of course, they are baby dogs (which are even more delicious than older dogs, especially with Nutella), or white babies (which are gross, even with Nutella, except to the Chinese).

Chinese-to-English Translation (edited): "N*gga Plz"

Believe it or not, Mo’Nique’s baby touchdown maneuver wasn’t even the most appalling aspect of the film.  There still remains much, much more to be discussed.

The Bucket of Fried Chicken Incident

At one point in the film, Precious steals a bucket of fried chicken on her way to school one morning.  While fleeing the scene of the crime, she proceeds to devour her booty like a lioness in the wild protecting her freshly slaughtered wildebeest carcass from the other greedy cats in her pride.

P manages to consume the whole bucket, polishing off the last bits of deep fried Type-II Diabetes nuggets during her elevator ride to class.

In her defense, she was pregnant with her father’s second rape baby, so she was eating for two bastards.  Also, Precious had minimal (if any) exposure to proper etiquette or even common decency as a result of her hood-rat upbringing.  So she probably did not view her act as constituting theft in most jurisdictions and instead saw it as necessary for her survival.  Again, much like a lioness in the wild.  So it comes as no surprise that some critics have compared “Precious” to Disney’s “The Lion King.”

Fried Chicken: ... Keeping the Hood's Population in Check Since The Emancipation Proclamation

Regardless, I couldn’t help but forgive Precious for her minor peccadillo, even though technically “theft”, a criminal act.  Why?  Because, quite frankly… ‘bitch needed the exercise!

Upon exiting the elevator, licking her fingers and clutching the remains of her early morning feast, Precious jettisons the evidence and takes a seat in the hallway where she waits to speak to her guidance counselor.  This was the point at which it became apparent to me that this girl probably wouldn’t enjoy French cuisine, and may quite possibly simply despise it.  If she can house a bucket of fried chicken like a container of Tic Tacs, she probably wouldn’t appreciate amuse-bouche… And it probably isn’t necessary to educate her on the proper use of escargot tongs.  French fries and baked brie are probably safe “go-to”s though, if you ever have her over as a dinner guest but find yourself ill-stocked to prepare anything other than French food. .

Anyway, she throws away the soiled bucket of meatless chicken bones, takes her seat, and then projectile vomits into a trash can.  Twice.  And the film shows it all.

Every last greenish-brown-slash-“fluorescent-beige” chunk.

SIDE NOTE: “Fluorescent beige” is a reference to a line in the movie, one of the minor characters names it as her favorite color… I think the color may be licensed to FUBU as a signature exclusive, much like “Valentino Red”.

So, clearly, the movie was disgusting.

Another item regarding the Bucket of Fried Chicken Incident:

It is pretty much the only physical activity that Precious is shown actively participating in throughout the duration of the film.

Let me rephrase that, “the only voluntary, consensual physical activity” that we see big P engaged in.

No wonder why they needed a big girl for the role, because bitch gets beat-da-f*#k up in this film.  And if we learned anything from Fergie, it’s that “big girls don’t cry.”  Why?  Because big girls know how to take a punch.

It’s elementary science, really.

The massive creature’s spherical shape and substantial girth combine to effectively absorb the force of the impact and evenly distribute it throughout the circumference of it’s massive frame, thereby minimizing the intensity of overall pain felt by the mighty girl, much like a shock absorber.

Big Girls Don’t Cry… They Get EVEN.

The Credits

The opening and closing credits in the movie “Precious” required subtitles, because they were written in Ebonics.

Pigs Feet & Collared Greens Give You Wings!! (... And colitis).

Was this really necessary, Lee Daniels?  Does it really make sense to translate “Production Assistant” into Ebonics?

And they actually did have subtitles, by the way. (for those of you who haven’t seen the movie yet).

This is the part where I write in Ebonics (because I do what I want).

We talkin’ bout my bitch Precious, big P, Panda Party.  In da movie she be catchin’ a beatin’ like Mo’Nique be breakin’ a bitch.  Fallin’ down da stayers while she wuz holdin’ huh baby cuz her moms be so crazy like slim shady with rabies.  Hey rabbis, you was so cool in da eighties, by tha way, doris day, who controls the euphrates?

(For the proper English translation, consult Lil’ Wayne et al.).

Back to Proper English (“proper” in comparison to Ebonics)

Anytime I try to write in Ebonics, it always degenerates into a nonsensical rap.  I guess I get lost in the funky fresh rhythm of the flow and disregard the meanings of the individual words.

Calm down, it's a satirical illustration

In any case, “Precious”.  In the scenes where her father rapes her, Precious exerts no physical effort to resist.  She simply lies there and submits, and seems to enter a trance-like state.

And then, of course, she pretends she’s in a music video.

Here she is pretending to be Rihanna...

Oh yeah… anytime P was being raped by her father or sexually abused by her demented mother, she would pretend she was in a music video.  All the happy footage showing Precious all glamoured up and dancing on a stage (i.e., the scenes that they show you in the previews) doesn’t actually happen.  It’s all make-believe.  They don’t show what she’s actually doing at the time.  Namely, getting raped by her father.  So you go into the movie deceived, thinking that there is going to be a happy ending.  But there’s not.  At all.

Rihanna pretending to be a sexy demon.

The opening paragraph of this subsection is intentionally highly disturbing, because it is the only way you can possibly begin to grasp the intense emotions this movie evokes from me.

Offensive & Rude

“Precious” was just offensive and rude.  ”Precious” = Kettle.  Tokyo Hilton = Pot.  This is an excellent example of when the Pot is justified in calling the Kettle “black”… on so many levels!

To illustrate how offensive and rude this film was, consider the following…  For example, they named Precious’ first-born rape baby, a daughter born with brain damage, “Mongo”.  We later learn that “Mongo” is a nickname for “Mongoloid”.

Are you f*c*ing kidding me??!!

That’s like if Seal’s parents named him “Sickle Cell.”

I can’t help but think of that “urban legend” about a partially illiterate black mother who regarded the plain text of her newborn daughter’s birth certificate as a suggested list of baby names, and named her daughter “Female”, believing the phonetic pronunciation to be (three syllables) “Fee-Mah-Lay”.  I’m sure most of you have heard similar stories involving the naming of welfare babies after the various words and phrases appearing on their birth certificates.

To further illustrate the connection to this urban legend in “Precious”, “Mongo’s” legal guardian (presumably Mary (Mo’Nique) at the time of birth, as Precious was not yet of legal age) found the term “Mongoloid” to be aesthetically pleasing when she attempted to read it on paper and consequently, deemed it an appropriate name for a mentally challenged baby.  Alternatively, maybe she just fell in love with the nickname “Mongo” and thought it was worth the humiliation of a name like “Mongoloid”, which would be minimal because everyone would just call her “Mongo” anyway. Much like white people who name their children “Bartholomew”.

Anyway, after seeing “Precious”, I’m beginning to think: “Holy shit, Fee-Mah-Lay might not be an urban legend, it may actually be true… which also means that my friend Dave the gay social worker wasn’t lying.”  (Don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about.. we’ve all had a friend or friend-of-a-friend who is or claims to know a social worker with the “Fee-Mah-Lay” story or some variation thereof).

Mo’Nique

Caution: something's about to pop open like a can of biscuits

First of all, “Mo’Nique”… are you kidding me?  Where is her last name?  She’s not Cher.  And why is there an apostrophe in her name?

Mo’Nique plays Precious’ dysfunctional mother “Mary” in the film.  Her character in the movie is downright despicable and disgusting without one redeeming quality about her.

In one scene, Mo’Nique’s character tells Precious that her former lover, who was also Precious’ father, has died of AIDS.  As a result, she suggests that P obtain an AIDS test.  When Precious warns Mo’Nique that she too should obtain an AIDS test, Mo’Nique’s character retorts: “I ain’t got the AIDS. I ain’t neva let yo daddy fuck me in tha ass.”

So clearly, Mo’Nique’s character in the film has a mind for science, which only makes her actions more deplorable, as it suggests that she is not completely uneducated.  I adore sarcasm.

... Nah, too easy

Is this seriously the same Mo’Nique from “Phat Girlz”?? A film which features the plus-sized debutante in a romantic montage with an all-you-can-eat hotel buffet, in which she becomes sexually aroused by a ham and a chocolate cream pie?

A film that was funny in a “it-was-meant-to-be-and-even-if-it’s-not-that-funny-laughing-at-fat-people-is” kind of way?

Really? Are you sure this is an accurate example of 'Fat-with-a-"P"-"H"'?

…As opposed to “Precious”, which was funny in a “this-is-so-fucked-up-that-I-feel-obligated-to-laugh-because-it-is-the-most-vile-disturbing-thing-I’ve-ever-seen-and-it-makes-me-feel-uncomfortable” kind of way.

She IS a Golden Globe

Mariah Carey

Mariah Carey… Oh my.

I can’t believe that “Glitter” drove her to a near nervous breakdown but her mental faculties somehow managed to remain intact after “Precious.”

First of all, in the movie, she looks like a hot mess.  If you can believe it, Mariah looked even worse in the film than she did at the various awards shows where she invariably stuffed her Dress Barn body into some unflattering “couture” sausage casing and paraded around, interlocking arms with her little pet/lover Nick Cannon.

Maybe a size bigger? No? Guess little Nicky will have to be very patient later, it's gonna take you a while to peel that thing off...

At the Golden Globes, Nick and Mariah looked like they had just escaped from a mother-son outing in Camden, New Jersey.

Seriously, though.  What happened to her face?  Did they sting her with bees each day of shooting?  She looked like someone kicked her in the face and then beat her repeatedly in the face with a hammer before peeing on her.  Picture Pauly Shore with a dash of Andy Dick, a hint of “Two-Girls-One-Cup”, and a unibrow.

She kind of looks like Bjork after a rough night in Eastern Europe

Mariah “Scary.”

Dear Lee Daniels:  Thank You For The Close-Up of Precious’ Massive Lactating Titty

Did they really have to show Clarice “Precious” Jones whip out a giant titty and breast feed her second in-bred newborn rape baby?

Her massive lactating mocha tit really could have been spared it’s own exclusive screen shot, if only as a courtesy to those of us who saw “Precious” on the big screen.

This part even made one of the black guys sitting behind me jump up out of his seat and proclaim:

“Deeeeaaaaammmnnn, Nasty… That’s Gangsta!!”

And I thought black guys were supposed to like fat chicks… Is the stereotype exclusive only to white fat chicks?  (Please provide any insight you may have on this topic, as I am curious to know).

Conclusion: Mos Def Not The “Feel Good Movie of the Year”

Throughout the movie, Precious is repeatedly raped by her father and beaten senseless by both parents, sometimes by whatever nearby solid object that’s haphazardly strewn about their government subsidized, low-income Harlem residence, that hasn’t already been broken.

We learn that Precious has endured terrible, gut-wrenching physical, mental and sexual abuse since age three.  After becoming pregnant by her father twice, and giving birth to two children by him (including “Mongoloid”) we find out that the dirty bastard gave her AIDS.  As if that isn’t sickening in and of itself, her father was her only sexual partner.  So it is unlikely that she will ever be able to have a loving, consensual relationship with a non-relative, and instead faces a future of living with AIDS and caring for her two children, one of whom has special needs.  Just when you think the poor girl’s life can’t possibly get any worse, it does.

You know what really gets my goat about “Precious”?  It’ll probably win a bunch of awards.  After all, it is like a Maya Angelou novel come to life.  And it is vaguely reminiscent of “Amistad”.

If you don’t share my views or opinions, I feel sorry for you.  But for me, a “good movie” should not be something that you later wish could be erased from your memory.  Nor should a “good movie” incite vomiting, weeping, and/or violence against Oprah by an angry mob of torch-bearing townsfolk, in my opinion.

What a f*#ked up, disgusting movie.  Definitely NOT the “feel-good film” of the year.

Though, I must confess.  I do feel a lot better now… after venting and talking about it… which I hear does in fact help tremendously with PTSD. So, thanks for being my sounding board, you guys!

Tokyo out.  Bitches.

... True, except I like my dicks without condiments.